Thanks to hippiechick2112, guest, Foreststar of Wind Clan, and HalfSquirrel for reviewing!


There was an aimlessness to vacation days. Scott spent part of the afternoon wandering through the trees with one of his library books tucked into his back pocket. He knew he was sulking. All the same, what a place to sulk! Usually Scott came out here only to run. He appreciated it more at a slower pace.

He did not like to think of himself as someone who put emphasis on things like that. Living here, he had seen how different life was for people who had money. Beds were softer, books were plentiful and in better condition, food tasted better.

It literally tasted better.

Scott continued to eat junk like cookies and chips, but he had a much broader idea of what 'food' was now. It could involve spices beyond salt, or vegetables that were crisp and called things like bok choy and bamboo (which was apparently a vegetable sometimes). Hamburgers in the school cafeteria had been gray, but meat from the same animal could be pink and actually taste like something.

He would miss the comforts, yes, but he would miss people more. He would miss thinking he was loved, which he genuinely had thought. All the same, it had to be nice to have your own forest.

Much as it mattered, he realized, since it wasn't like Professor Xavier was going for walks in the woods.

Scott took out his book and settled against a tree. He didn't want to think about this anymore. Instead he let his mind go quiet, not sure how much time passed before Artie batted his hand.

The cat had settled across his lap and was purring idly when they were once more interrupted.

It was the rustling of leaves that alerted him a few seconds before a gorilla-esque figure dropped to the ground in front of him. "Good evening, Scott and Artie!"

Scott looked up from his book, then looked around, judging the light. So it was evening.

"Hi, Hank."

"What are you reading?"

Scott held out the book.

"Haven't you read this already?"

"Half a dozen times. It's one of my favorites."

Hank handed the book back. "You know he wrote a sequel."

Scott nodded. "Sweet Thursday. I started it, but… Cannery Row is like a Polaroid of a moment. Everything is different in Sweet Thursday and I guess it changes to see that it all just ended. No, that doesn't make sense—"

"It makes sense," Hank interrupted. Then he changed the subject, "You know it's Ororo's birthday."

Scott sighed. He set his bookmark, accepting that he wasn't returning to the book anytime soon. "I know. Hey, you know about cars, right?"

"What do you want to know?"

Scott shifted awkward and Artie mewled in objection. Honestly, what was wrong with him? She had her nice comfy pillow and he kept moving around! Humans! (That Scott was not specifically human was a distinction lost on her.)

"He's gonna get rid of me, you know."

Hank adjusted his glasses. "Scott—"

"He is, and he should. I can't take care of them. I'm trying, but I can't…"

Hank settled next to Scott. "First of all, Charles is not going to get rid of you." He wasn't sure he could hold onto that secret for much longer. He didn't make any decisions around here—and that didn't bother Hank. He didn't want to be in charge. Having no authority unfortunately meant big promises carried little weight.

"Alex hates me. Ororo hates me."

"No one hates you. You and Ororo were in your fort all morning."

"She kicked me out."

"She… what?" There was 'kicking out' with a blanket fort?

Scott shrugged. He didn't know what he had done wrong. Alex said women were confusing (when he wasn't saying "get out" or "leave me alone") and Scott was inclined to agree. He had been at a loss for words, so he talked about the weather. He talked about dust and tornadoes. Normally weather was a safe conversation with Ororo, so he didn't know what he had done wrong.

"Well," Hank said, "we both know you're not going to miss Ororo's birthday dinner. Why don't we head back?"

Scott didn't want to. He wanted to stay outside, sleep here if it would keep distance between himself and too many hard questions. It was pointless, though. He couldn't hide from his thoughts—or from his mom.

"Yeah, okay."

Scott carried Artie as they headed back. Hank deigned to walk on the ground for a while, then swung from the trees instead. Neither of them had much to say.

Somethings, though—sometimes Scott would glance around. It might take a few seconds, but he could always spot Hank.