Title: Leader of Men

Notes: Lookit! My first Scott-centric story! No, "The Ring" doesn't count. This is to prove wrong all those people who've told me I pick on him too much, so nyah. :) Oh, and the name of the story, as with many of mine, is from a song. This one happens to be a song of the same name by Nickelback. Good song. Breathe is better, but hey. I'm not picky.

Disclaimer: Though Marvel should be sued from time to time for their treatment of certain characters, I sincerely hope they can overlook my little adventure in treason here.

Continuance Note: This takes place immediately after the OZT hubbub. Scott's still in bed, recuperating from his surgery, and does what anyone in his bedridden position would do - no, he doesn't get drunk. Silly. He also doesn't watch an old MSTed version of Catalina Capers, which is what I would do. No, for Scott is one of those rare individuals: he thinks.

******

Maybe it makes me look weak, but I like writing. Not stories, of course - Hank is the literary genius of the team, Sam too, if you can believe it, and I couldn't write a story to save my life. Hank told me to do something productive while I'm recovering from the operation, and Cecelia gave strict orders for me to not move around too much. I wouldn't normally take the advice of someone with whom my first meeting is as a patient, but Jean's been hovering over me, both literally and figuratively, and so I don't have many chances to get away.

So now I'm writing in a journal Rogue bought for me, writing down my thoughts like some teenage girl. Okay, I'll be fair. Most teenage girls don't have to worry about the fate of humanity on a daily basis.

Look at me, old stick in the mud Summers trying to develop a sense of humor. I think the professor would be proud.

It's strange, how I called him professor or the professor now, whereas not long ago I called him Charles. Same with Jean. Ever since returning to find the grounds stripped of all signs of life, she's been referring to this place as the mansion rather than home. Not that I can really blame her, naturally. The place doesn't even resemble what we all used to call home.

I miss Charles.

It's true, you know - you never know what you have until it's gone. I knew Xavier and the mansion both meant a lot to me, but I wasn't aware of just how much. I didn't know that, in the absence of both, I would be feeling a little lost about where our next step should be.

I'd like to think the professor has been watching us in some way. I think after the whole Onslaught ordeal, he'd like to see that we're still alive and fighting, though beginning to show more signs of self-destruction. Marrow is here for unknown reasons, seemingly just as psychotic as before, Warren is . . . distraught . . . and Rogue has been varying in mood. She goes from crying to wanting to throw things, and the only thing anyone can get from her is that it has something to do with Gambit.

It's always been frightening being the team's leader. I always second-guess myself, wondering if maybe there's a better alternative to my decisions, always wondering if maybe I'm putting my team in unnecessary danger. The difference is that before, I always had Xavier behind me. If things went bad, I could turn to him for guidance or a smack in the head, whichever suited the occasion.

But now with him gone, the whole team looks to me to make every right choice, and when it comes down to it, the last word is mine.

It's terrifying.

I'm not saying that I used the professor as a scapegoat. Not at all. It's just that when he was here, the majority of my decisions reflected what I thought he wanted. I wasn't a mindless lapdog, as I know Wolverine is going to call me if he ever reads this, but in a self-conscious, childish way, I wanted to make him proud. I guess I thought if I tried to be a younger mirror image that I could accomplish that.

Now I'm torn between what the professor would want and what I want.

Naturally, the professor would want me to give everybody second chances and give them all shots at redemption. I, on the other hand, am not so easily won over. Once I learn to rely on someone, I give them my full respect and support, but they have to earn that trust. I won't turn blind eyes to those who come into this house. Despite the fact I've heard the comments about me being uptight, most of which came from Jubilee, what many fail to realize is that I have a team to lead, and that team is my family. My first priority is to protect them by any means. Maybe that makes me look like I'm being too hard on others, but as long as it keeps my team safe, I'll endure the constant jokes.

Everybody seems to have this tendency to see me as distant and aloof, but they would probably never guess that I'm capable of spotting every emotion they throw at me. Quite a feat for a guy without a hint of empathic powers. That ability comes at a price, though, and at times I think it'll be my sanity.

For example, I think I've had all of them come visit me while I'm awake. Through it all, Jean's been strong - I'd expect nothing less from her - but she's just as unsure as I am. Warren is bitterly angry, Betsy is shaken. Hank is so very tired. Studying Legacy, dealing with whatever went on in Antarctica, and now seeing what Bastion did...It's all growing very old with him. Cecelia is determined not to let this whole mutant business get to her, while Maggott is pretty much indifferent.

Marrow's another story. She doesn't want to be here and she's making sure we know it. Storm is distracted by something, probably for the same reason Rogue's angry and sad. Joseph is confused and also the closest to my own feelings right now. Sam is still cheerful, trying to keep us in good spirits, but he acts like something's really bothering him. He just won't talk about it. Bobby is . . . well, Bobby.

Wolverine is trying to act like nothing's phasing him, but I can tell he's worried for Jubilee, who went through more for this team than I would ever ask of anyone, let alone a child.

She's proven, as I've always suspected, that she's only a child in body.

All these conflicting emotions, all this tension, and still they managed to stay civil long enough to save my life. Not only does it testify to their devotion, which is really quite flattering, but it says wonders for their coping skills. They were thrown straight from one situation into another and pulled through it as a team.

It gives me hope.

I'll never admit this to anyone or anything but this stupid journal, but sometimes, when I see one of my teammates injured or, in extreme cases, dead, I regret ever assuming leadership position. One conscience can only handle so much, and mine has been overflowing with guilt for some time.

I feel guilty at times for keeping their hope alive and taking their normal lives away from them. Not that Xavier's dream isn't a worthwhile one, just that there is so much potential left being unused that the world may never see because their loyalties lie elsewhere. Who knows that Beast could do if he tried? Warren could become a world-class entrepreneur. I don't have a doubt that Bobby would be a stand-up comic. From what I hear, Sam's sister could be a lawyer or doctor or something as equally challenging if she wasn't so determined to become an X-Man.

And then I think about those who have turned completely around since affiliating themselves with the X-Men. I shudder to think there could be people like Wolverine, Gambit, the White Queen, countless others as the enemy. Some of these people - Jubilee and Rogue, for example - really only have the X-Men going for them. I try not to think of where they would be now if not in our ranks.

It's promising for the future.

How it's possible to take such a wide selection of people, give them something to believe in, and turn them into a close-knit, cohesive unit is beyond me. I only know that they trust me to keep them out of harm, or at least guide them out of it.

And you know what? It's a job I wouldn't trade for the world.