A/N: Was minding my own business (see: procrastinating) in the CBR forums when this idea hit.

An omake to an omake, I suppose, since this scene doesn't fit in Distant World.


Single-Awareness Day:

What Lurks Beneath A Bridge?


It was almost midnight in the pub when the manly chatter between strangers was abruptly interrupted.

"What's that sound?" The inebriated man asked his comrade-in-drink.

Scott Summers sighed as he raised his head from the hardwood of the pub's bar. "That'd be my phone."

"Thought you said you had no one." The man's eyes narrowed and he hiccupped. "What happened to lone wolves?"

Scott opened his mouth, but a guttural belch exited before he could stop it. His companion chuckled in amusement, and the mutant ran his hand through his brown locks sheepishly.

"I don't got none." Scott finally slurred.

"Bull, man. Nobody who's got none gets a call at this hour." He argued with all his years of experience.

Scott shrugged before taking another swig off his drink. "Like I said, I don't got none. This is something else…" The mutant trailed as his mental faculties slowly returned to him. "This is an alarm."

"Is that some kinda code now?" The man asked bitterly.

Finally sober—or at least, as close to sober one could be after twenty pints of hard beer without a healing factor—Scott leveled his ruby-hidden gaze at his drinking companion.

"I'm right, ain't I?" The man continued. "You got a kitty aimin' to scratch the pole, yeah?"

A thought occurred to the former X-Man.

Scott nodded to himself and leaned forward conspiratorially.

"Tell you what…"

-0-0-0-

Like a falling cat, Ororo Munroe descended from the darkened heavens and landed gracefully in the dark, empty alley with full certainty that nobody saw her arrival. She straightened her overcoat and strode towards the street.

:.: Rachel, I have landed. :.: Ororo informed her telepathic observer. :.: Can you confirm that Scott is here? :.:

:.: He is. :.: Came her colleague's reply.

:.: Good. Maintain silence until I have finished. :.:

:.: Ororo… :.:

:.: I will not harm him. :.: Ororo reassured. Feeling it safe, she crossed the street and entered the pub. :.: But I will bring him back one way or another. :.:

It was a standard pub, albeit one that looked better kempt than most. Ororo supposed it had to do with how few patrons there were.

Which was fortunate happenstance. It shouldn't be too hard to spot Scott in this crowd.

The former queen consort walked with deliberate steps, her heels softly thudding against the hardwood flooring. She pointedly ignored the varying looks she drew from the after-midnight drinkers as she sought her once-leader.

Her rhythmic footfalls abruptly stopped when she reached the back, and it took all her willpower not to gape incredulously at what she saw.

As it turned out, it wasn't too difficult to find him.

He was decked out in his full uniform, after all.

"S-…Scott?" She asked, hesitantly, the bizarreness of the situation striking her. She had fully expected Scott would do his best not to stand out.

She was met with Cyclops' hidden gaze. "Ororo, yeah?"

Ororo's brows knitted. "What happened to your voice?"

"Come, come! Have a seat!" Cyclops invited, scooting inward and patting the spot next to him. To her disgust, Cyclops let loose belch, and it was only when he downed another mug of beer when she saw the damage on the table. "And I only had a couple'a glasses, s'don't worry 'bout me, luv."

"I…I see." Ororo steeled herself and swallowed her hesitations. She wasn't certain if stumbling upon a drunk Cyclops was a blessing from her Goddess or otherwise. Still, she wouldn't squander this chance—and she'd seen more disgusting drunks, anyway—so she took up his offer. Well, mostly; she opted for the spot across the table from him.

"Ah, well." Cyclops sighed—and in the process, Ororo could smell all the alcohol and, ugh, halitosis in his breath. "Can't win 'em all, I s'ppose."

Goddess! Just how far had Scott let himself go?

"Grab a drink, luv." Cyclops urged his companion, taking a mug-filled with frothy drink with his other hand and offering it to her with a smile. "Trust. It'll make you feel muuuuch better."

"No thank you." Ororo declined politely. "Why are you in uniform?"

Cyclops looked at himself. "S'that what this is?" He slurred before grinning. "Well, s'like this: when two of us-types get together, you'd best prepare for some kinda reckonin'." He wagged his eyebrows as if punctuating.

Ororo nodded and smiled inwardly. It seemed there still was a part of the Scott Summers she knew lurking in the drunkard before her.

The thought brought her no small amount of relief.

"You're still lookin' a bit tense there, luv." Cyclops commented, chest jumping as he stifled yet another burp. He grinned easily. "Y'know it's bad manners not to take the first drink offered to ya in a pub, right?"

The former queen consort smiled. She supposed this was just an olive branch she would accept. "Very well." She took the mug and tasted the drink. "Oh!" Ororo exclaimed when she felt her vision shake. "That's… that's really good."

"I know, right?" Cyclops agreed. "This place has got the best!"

Ororo saw her chance. With a gentle nod, she prodded, "Do you come here often?"

"Only when I'm down." Cyclops replied and then suddenly turned sullen. "Which seems to be a lot, lately…" He mumbled.

Ororo smiled at him sympathetically, feeling guilty for the position he found himself in. "I can imagine. How have you been holding up since…?"

"With a drink and a smile, 'Ro." And smile, Cyclops did, albeit one whose sadness touched her heart. "Been lost for a while, y'know? But what else is a guy s'pposed to do but keep on hopin', am I right…?"

The guilt grew deeper. Ororo wisely decided to give him this moment while she, herself, stewed.

They had all felt Scott's absence. Loathe as she was to admit, when the troubles began anew, they needed Scott unflappable leadership—his ability to remain calm and, in doing so, put things back to focus to piece together a plan. The role of headmistress and de facto leader of the X-Men was a larger headache than she remembered as nobody seemed to listen to her.

And then, that happened. Months after hearing nothing from Scott—of the expectation that they would inevitably hear from the exiled X-Man, betrayed—that all the stress piled up into one explosive encounter, figuratively and literally.

They had expected him to show up once more—surely, even no matter how he was feeling, Scott would not let the most recent tragedy to mutantkind go, right?

But, once more, their expectation was betrayed as he never appeared. The months-old routine started and they began casting stones at Scott's name. To their utmost shame, it was a student that pointed out how broken a record they were when, even in self-imposed exile, they still continued to blame him.

The comment stung, but it was enough to make Ororo think.

And in Ororo's reminiscence, she realized that they were not the only ones that grieved the late professor's passing: Scott was, too.

It was as if his departure woke them up from a long sleep.

Promptly, they began to search for him and, while much more difficult than they had initially thought, they finally managed to find him earlier this evening. In a stroke of serendipity, Illyana had appeared and they conscripted her help.

Limbo's ruler appeared all-too-happy to teleport one person somewhere close enough to Scott's location.

Ororo took it as a sign from her Goddess, and promptly volunteered to bring Scott back.

And from the way he appeared, it seemed like it would be easy to convince him to return, too…

"So what brings you way out here, 'Ro?" Cyclops asked after he managed to collect himself.

Ororo smiled at him gently. "I'm here to take you home." She told him sincerely, opting to forego more idle chatter.

Cyclops raised an eyebrow. "Izzat so?"

"Yes." She nodded, eyes turning even more kind. "I know our last meeting wasn't on the best of terms…" Cyclops snorted, but Ororo pointedly ignored his drunken mannerism. "But you and I know we were both wrong. All I'm asking is… can we start over again?"

Cyclops sighed before emptying yet another mug. "You must think I'm easy." He accused self-deprecatingly. "I mean, I'm pretty much a slob by this point. Rich, but not where it counts."

"Never." Ororo reassured, leaning forward before taking his free hand in hers to give it a gentle squeeze. "I know I've—we've hurt each other for so long, but I'm here to set things right again."

"S'not going to be so easy. I need… proof." He took her hand in hers, leaning forward as well. "Dem's pretty words but…" He trailed, suddenly looking smaller than she had ever seen, before whispering, "I need something I can believe in."

"Name it." She urged him, feeling his hot breath against her lips—

Her eyes snapped open when Cyclops continued to lean in. She barely managed to shove him back before his lips touched hers.

"What are you doing!" Ororo exclaimed, outraged at his gall.

"Getting our relationship back." Cyclops snapped back; it was clear he was put off by the sudden rejection. "Ain't that why you're here, luv?"

"Yes! No!" Ororo grimaced. "I mean, not like that."

"Oh, I see." Cyclops nodded. He grabbed her hand and pulled her over the table, ignoring the mess he made as all the glasses fell and drinks were spilled, and stabilized her by placing his other hand on her shoulder.

Ororo became flustered when his face was suddenly close to hers once more.

"You're just here for the Dee, right?" Cyclops grinned. "Well, I'm down with that. Let's skip the foreplay and head straight to the forking."

The hand on her shoulder slid down to squeeze her ass.

"You jerk!" Ororo raged and slapped him with all her strength.

Cyclops fell off his seat and onto the floor; her blow strong enough, even that his visor flew true to strike the far wall—

"Oh no!" Ororo gasped in horror at the inevitable. In futility, she shouted, "Scott, don't open your eyes!"

"What the hell, you horny bitch!" Cyclops exclaimed as he glared at her with his…blue eyes?

Ororo stared as the drunken Cyclops(?) picked himself off the floor.

"Honestly, birdy, I'm getting mixed signals here. Are you or are you not here for my big Dee?"

"I…" Ororo spluttered, her mind struggling to form a coherent thought. "I…you… you're not… Scott?"

"I'm Scott." The man… Scott, said. "Prescott Phoenix. Friends call me 'Scott'. Happy to meet you, luv."

"Prescott?" Ororo repeated disbelievingly.

"I know, I know." He waved and went on to what Ororo felt like was a practiced response. "Silly name, but my 'rents weren't too imaginative. Love 'em, but, well, they're not too-imaginative."

"You're… someone else…" The reality of the situation finally sank. It took all of Ororo's willpower not to lash out—although the other patrons did jump at the sudden clap of thunder outside. "Why are you dressed like that?" She hissed.

Prescott shrugged carelessly; he was fucked, but not in the way he wanted. What else was new? "The other dude said it'd help me get laid."

The admission grabbed Ororo's attention, stalling the storm brewing outside. "The other guy?"

"Your ex." He explained, pulling back the cowl of his costume to reveal curly raven hair. "Good buddy, him. Only met him t'night but the dude's all-sorts of awesome; really good listener, him." He nodded happily in remembrance. "He said nobody looking for him'd be able to tell us apart s'long as I wore the suit."

It offended Ororo that Scott actually thought they didn't know him enough to pick him from an impostor!

Prescott suddenly looked thoughtful. "Come to think, with how you reacted, guess he was tellin' the truth that you weren't his ex."

"The other guy…" Ororo glared, her body trembling with barely suppressed outrage. "Where is he?"

"He left."

That was all Ororo needed.

Storm stormed out the pub in fury, ignoring Prescott's calls and all the other patrons' looks.

:.: Rachel, are you there? :.: Storm thought intensely.

It took a moment, but Rachel finally replied, :.: What is it? :.:

:.: I've been duped. Scott's not here. :.: She harshly informed the telepath. :.: You lied to me. You said Scott was here. :.:

:.: He was. :.: Rachel said. :.: But he disappeared sometime after you entered. :.:

This time, a thunderstorm did brew as Storm's temper blew. :.: And you didn't think to inform me?! :.:

:.: You told me to maintain silence. :.: Rachel sent the impression of a shrug for good measure. :.: Anyway, I managed to catch up with him while you were busy. :.:

:.: Scott is there! :.: Ororo's response was meant to be a question, but it morphed into an accusation through her anger. :.: Why is he there?! :.:

:.: He's not here anymore. :.: Rachel informed. :.: Illyana took him back to… well, they wouldn't tell me. :.:

:.: … :.:

:.: Ororo? You still there? :.:

:.: You and I will exchange words for this, Rachel. :.: Storm finally declared. :.: Soon as I get back. :.:

:.: 'Kay. :.: Rachel replied nonchalantly. :.: I'll see you in six hours. :.:

:.: …I don't suppose you can contact Illyana, can you? :.:

:.: Nope. :.:

Storm sighed before taking off to the skies.

She was really starting to hate the Summers blood.


Omake: The Suit

"You're shitting me." Prescott looked at Scott skeptically. "You want me to wear what?"

"This suit. I'll have you know that it works like a charm." Scott defended.

"It's... it's suggestive s'what it is." The thing looked like a giant blue condom. "You sure this works?"

"I think so." Scott scratched the back of his head. "I mean, it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Huh?"

"Well, I think this is the reason I've got a... a space god, I suppose, stalking me. Among other... people." That was the best way Scott could explain the Phoenix Force to a layman. "Y'know what? Look." Scott pulled out a bunch of photos from somewhere.

"Woah!"

"From a scale of one-to-ten, how would you rate her?"

"Blonde bombshell!"

"And her?"

"Red-hawt."

"And her?"

"Eh? The tattoos look a bit weird but I'd do her."

"Tattoos?" Scott looked at the picture and cringed at who he accidentally pulled out. He pocketed Rachel's picture. "Er, forget her."

"What about the space god?"

"It kinda... body jumps?"

"Woah. That's hot." Prescott praised. "Think it'll possess some space-chick sometime soon? I'd dig me some space-booty at least once in my life. So long as she doesn't got some space-STI 'course."

"It's... a possibility."

"Alright. I'm in."

"For the space-chick?"

Prescott nodded.

"Definitely for the space-chick."


A/N: Beware the troll asking for a toll lurking under a bridge!

I had a couple more scenes planned, but I couldn't fit them in while I was typing. I also said I'd try to post this before the weekend's end, and seems I managed it with two hours to spare :D whoop-whoop!

Capibara, I apologize for this transgression. I'll see if I can come up with a proper ScOroro sometime :'D