They held an informal debriefing that night after Jean and Hank returned from San Francisco. Strange, Jean thought, that she felt so tired after two cross-country flights in a normal jet while travel in the Blackbird never bothered her. Now she sat with an oversized mug of coffee to help keep her alert during the meeting.
Scott looked even more tired than she felt, she noticed, but he appeared to be paying full attention to everything Hank said in his summary of their visit to Worthington Laboratories.
When Hank finished, it was her turn. "Jimmy appears to be fine, medically speaking. His parents agreed to let him live at the Alcatraz facility for up to two years and to allow Wortington to map his DNA. Everything appears to be completely legal in that regard."
"No surprise there," Scott said. "My concerns are for the boy's safety when word of this gets out. There are a few million mutants in this country alone, and not all of them are reasonable."
"The security is good," Jean said, "and their chief of security knows his work, or that's my impression." She knew Scott would understand the reference to her scans. "But he doesn't think in terms of securing against someone like us."
"Most people don't," Logan said.
Scott nodded agreement. "Hank, can you arrange a meeting with appropriate people? The X-Men can help with defending against mutant attacks."
"Of course," Hank agreed. "I'll make the calls first thing in the morning."
"And they're announcing this cure tomorrow, as well," Jean said. "They were just waiting on Hank's visit. Are we going to make a counter-announcement?"
"Like what? Being a mutant is all grand, so don't take the cure?"
Jean frowned at Logan's sarcasm. "No, about the control serum. Offer a choice."
"I don't see how you can," Hank said. "Not without exposing yourself to lawsuits right and left. And not without sufficient supplies of the serum to meet the demand."
"Hank's right." Scott's tone was firm, but the look he gave her was full of understanding. "We can't admit that we have it publicly, but maybe we can put some pressure on them privately to come up with alternatives to a permanent cure."
"I can certainly do that," Hank said. "And Jean, and possibly Charles. Letters to Worthington, a few strategic comments on talk shows and news broadcasts..." He fell silent, and Jean had to smile at the hum of his thoughts. Unlike Scott, Hank had to actively think about plans. Scott simply saw them intuitively. The difference in their thought patterns when planning was the difference between putting one foot in front of the other and leaping across a puddle.
"After you schedule the meeting," Scott reminded him, and Hank nodded. "That's it, then. Thanks."
The others rose to leave, and Jean lingered until she and Scott were the only ones left.
"Something on your mind?" he asked. His tone was wary, but not hostile.
"You look like you need someone to talk to. Or walk with," she amended. Scott wasn't the kind to sit and talk. He didn't sit much, period. He preferred to be moving, whether walking, riding his motorcycle, or flying. Or making love. She stopped that thought before it got to her face.
"You're volunteering?"
She didn't like the skeptical tone of his voice, but said only, "I am. Surprise you?"
"Yeah, a little." He must be tired if he'd admit that. "Why?"
Such a simple question. She tried to keep the answer simple, as well. "Because I love you."
The disbelief in his expression told her she wouldn't be able to get away with a simple answer
even before he said, "Really? I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me."
"If I didn't want to have anything to do with you, I'd've left already." She leaned against the table facing him. "I hope we can work things out, because I don't want to throw away everything we've shared without a fight. But tonight's not about working things out. It's about you being exhausted and needing a friend. Walk around the lake?"
For a moment, she thought he'd refuse. Then he nodded, once, and stood. She fought the urge to take his hand once they got out of the mansion and turned toward the lake. A half moon shone in the sky, not enough for someone unfamiliar with the property to navigate by, but plenty for two people who'd spent large chunks of their lives there.
"So what did you do while Hank and I were gone?" she asked.
"I went to see Alex."
He'd gone to see his brother? Oh, no wonder he was exhausted -- emotionally exhausted. "How'd that go?"
"Better than I expected. He didn't hang up on me when I called, and he didn't ambush me with a baseball bat when I got to his office."
"Both are good signs, yes." She wouldn't push for details. She'd learned over the years that Scott would talk or not as he chose. Asking more questions wouldn't necessarily encourage that.
"We'll never be close," he said after a while. "But maybe we can be civil enough that we can both visit our parents at the same time."
"Your parents would like that. Did he have any news about the mutation in your power?"
"He took some readings, and he'll do the testing and analysis when he has time. Between working on his dissertation and scoping out young co-eds."
Jean laughed. "Do they still use that term? Co-ed?"
Scott chuckled. "'They' might not, but I just did."
They finished the circuit around the lake in surprisingly comfortable silence. If the memories of their last encounters weren't so sharp in her memory, Jean could almost convince herself they were still together.
"Why'd you volunteer?" Scott asked as they came within sight of the mansion again. "I mean, why now?"
Jean heard the rest as though he'd spoken it aloud, even though not an echo of a thought leaked from behind his shields. Why now and not before?
She had to choose her answer carefully -- he wouldn't appreciate it if he knew she'd read his mind while he was unconscious. "Because, strange as it sounds, being apart from you has made me more aware of you. I saw that you needed someone, and I offered."
This time he didn't bother to hide his surprise. "Thanks."
She smiled at him. "Any time."
He stopped. "No, I mean it. Thank you."
And then he put his arms around her and held her close. She stiffened in his arms, then slid her own around his waist, trying to relax.
He held her until she relaxed, and then a moment longer, before he loosened his hold and stepped back a little. In the dark, she couldn't read his eyes, and she would not pry into his mind, would not shatter this fragile moment of trust they'd built.
She'd taken a step toward showing him that she cared about him. Would he take a step in opening up to her?
"I miss you," he said quietly. "Every morning, I expect you to be in bed beside me. Every night, I expect to talk about our days -- what you did in the lab, how the students are doing, all the little details of our lives."
"I miss you. Otherwise I wouldn't be trying to show you that I do care." She couldn't help but match his honesty with her own.
"It's -- not easy for me to ask for help. Especially when I really need it." The confident Scott Summers she'd fallen in love with had taken a vacation. This Scott, uncertain and hesitant, was someone she'd never met before.
"We were partners, Scott, even beyond teammates and lovers." Jean knew the hurt had crept into her voice again. But they were being honest, and honesty meant admitting the hurt, not hiding it. "I felt like you didn't trust me to help."
"I never meant --" he broke off, swallowed, and started again. "I trust you. I just couldn't say the words."
She might be hurting, still, but so was he. Instinctively, she reached to take his hand. His fingers closed around hers and held tight.
"I'll do better."
His words had the ring of a vow, though they were barely a murmur in the night. She squeezed his hand, and said, "I hope so."
He flinched as though from a physical blow, and she guessed he'd been expecting something more from her than that. She wouldn't, couldn't take the words back, nor elaborate on them. Instead, she said, "I still have some of that dark cocoa that you like. Want a cup?"
He mock groaned. "All that sugar."
"So run twenty-two miles tomorrow instead of twenty. I'll shave some real chocolate over the whipped cream."
"If you're going to play dirty, I'll lose."
"No, playing dirty would be adding mint or cinnamon in addition to the chocolate."
He laughed and turned her back toward the mansion. "So what did you do in the lab today?"
- - - - -
Scott woke the next morning feeling more rested and refreshed than he had since he'd left Jean. He didn't want to admit that spending quiet time with her the night before might have had something to do with that.
The feeling stayed with him through the morning run -- he managed not to grin at Jean like an idiot -- and a round of phone calls with Hank, his father, and an aeronautical firm in Texas for upgrades to the Blackbirds.
It stayed with him all morning, in fact, until he paused outside the game room to see a double handful of students gathered around the television. Between Kitty's and Jubilee's heads he caught an image of a building with the name Worthington on it, and his good mood evaporated. They were announcing the cure.
He'd known it was coming, had already been preparing for it, but that didn't make Worthington's condescending, pitying tone and explanation any easier to take.
Movement to his right caught his attention, and he turned to see Marie striding toward him. He realized that he still stood in the doorway, and shifted his position to give her room to pass him. Only then did he catch the glint of tears in her eyes.
"Want to talk?" he asked quietly as she passed.
"I think maybe I do." Her answer was even softer than his question, and he rested a hand on her back as he joined her.
He could feel the tension in her body and blurted, "Is Bobby pressuring you?"
"How'd you know?"
It was the one drawback of his tactical gift, having to try to explain how he made the connections he did. This time, though, he had a ready excuse. "He's a guy. I'm a guy. I know how he thinks."
"Before," she gave the word a slight emphasis, "he was patient. But then you got this control serum, and he was more disappointed than I was when you said I couldn't take it until I'm eighteen."
"And...?" Scott prompted.
"And then you got sick."
"And you got -- nervous." He'd almost said scared, but he hated having that word applied to him, so he wouldn't apply it to her.
"Yes."
"I'd be nervous in your shoes, too," Scott told her. They'd reached the kitchen and he crossed to the fridge to pull out a couple of sodas. "It wasn't a fun thing to go through, and at the time nobody had any idea why it was happening."
"You do now?" She took the soda he offered her.
"Jean, Hank and I talked before he left. We're pretty sure what happened to me was because I had brain damage as a kid. Jean thinks that had to be healed before the powers could be controlled."
"And now this cure --" Marie stared into the bottle she held.
"Did he suggest you take it?" Scott would have to beat Bobby to a pulp if he had. Or at least make him re-take senior year physics.
"No, not even hints. But I can't help wondering..."
"What do you want? Not what Bobby wants or what you think the team needs. What does Marie want?" She looked up at him, blinking, and he smiled a little. "It's your life, Marie, not ours. None of us can tell you what you should do."
"I don't know," she said after a while.
"Don't do anything until you do." He put his bottle down and leaned on the counter. "Both our powers are dangers to others, and we want other people, people we love, to be comfortable with us. But that comfort can't come at the cost of being who we are."
Marie drank the rest of her soda, obviously considering what he'd said.
"It's a lot to think about," Scott said. "Take your time."
"But if the team needs me --"
"What you want takes precedence. Remember that." Scott reached over to put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm glad you were there to help with Madrox. But what you want matters more than my being glad. I want you to be happy. Whatever that takes. Okay?"
She smiled. "Okay."
"And don't let anybody pressure you into doing anything. If anyone tries, let me know."
That made her laugh. "I will. Thanks for listening."
"Any time."
- - - - -
"You saw the announcement?"
Magneto had to stop his lip from curling into a snarl. "I did."
"Does it change the plan?"
There were only a few people he would tolerate questions from, and Callisto was one of them. "Only in details. In fact, this might be just the catalyst phase two needs. Can you locate Mystique?"
"She's mobile, in the midwest. Chicago is the closest big city."
"Excellent. I'll call you when I need her location pinpointed."
"Do you need me elsewhere?"
"I think for now it's best that you stay where you are. You may be needed to point them toward me when the time comes."
"Okay." She gave a frustrated sigh. "It's just boring here. They aren't trusting me."
"And they shouldn't," Magneto told her. "But you can offer to attend some of the rallies that will surely happen and report back to them. While you're there, you can recruit for the Brotherhood."
"As long as I don't have to deal with Pyro."
"I'll make certain he attends rallies outside New York." Magneto disconnected the call.
That the research facility was in San Francisco was a stroke of fortune that simplified his plans immensely. Now he simply needed an army to distract the X-Men, and a sufficient lure for Cyclops.