Author: Elizabeth Wilde
Title: "Faded"
Series: Driving Force #11
Distribution: Anyone who has my fic, anyone who asks nicely for it, http://www.geocities.com/aloysiusj/xfic.html
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, unfortunately. I'd really love to own Scott. But for now I'm just borrowing them, so don't sue! I also don't own the song "Broadway" by Goo Goo Dolls.
'Ship: none (mention of Logan/Jean)
Classification: angst
Summary: Scott sits in a New York City bar and contemplates his situation.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none
Feedback: to wilde_moon@yahoo.com please
Broadway is dark tonight
A little bit weaker than you used to be
Broadway is dark tonight
See the young man sitting
In the old man's bar
Waiting for his turn to die.
~Goo Goo Dolls "Broadway"
The constant hazy smoke in the bar had long ago moved Scott's headache up to a migraine. His head pounded with every beat of the tinny-sounding jukebox. A half-finished beer, his first and last of the night, sat on the counter in front of him.
The bartender threw an annoyed glance in the young man's direction and groused, "You gonna drink that or just memorize the label?" Receiving no reply, he mumbled something about Scott being a "cheap bastard" and turned away to attend more serious patrons.
It didn't really matter to Scott whether the bartender hated him or not. //By tomorrow, I'll either be in another bar or another city.// For almost a month, New York City had provided refuge, an easy place to get lost in the crowd. No one gave a second glance to the morose young man with red sunglasses. Scott sighed. He needed to be further away. It was still tempting to return to Westchester.
A skinny woman-almost a girl-with long, stringy bleached-blond hair and too much make-up even in the dim light sat down at the bar next to Scott and offered her best approximation of a sultry smile. "Hey, there. You look like you could use some cheering up."
Scott gave her a sideways glance, then stared resolutely at his beer. "No thanks."
"Aw, c'mon, it won't cost you much."
Her hand moved to his thigh, sliding higher and higher until Scott caught her wrist. "I'm not interested, okay?"
The woman jerked her hand away, obviously angry. "Fuck you, loser," she hissed before stalking over to another man on the other end of the bar.
//Can't even have a civil conversation with a hooker,// he half-joked to himself. His gaze scanned the bar. The people inside were no different than the people he had seen in any other bar, and most of them were there for more or less the same reason he was: to forget, to be forgotten, to get lost in the shadows.
A few odd jobs here and there plus a lifetime of savings kept Scott in cheap food and scuzzy motels with little trouble. //Is this really the way I want to live my life? Do I want to run forever? Of course, even if I don't, I can't go back to the only real home I've ever had.// Returning to the school wasn't an option, and his parents had certainly pushed thoughts of him as far from their minds as possible. He was a freak, an embarrassment, a blight on their flawless social record.
At first after he left, he held some sort of bizarre hope that someone would come after him, beg him to come home. But weeks passed and no one came. He still regretted having had to face Logan before leaving. The lack of reproach in the other man's eyes still weighed on him. //Logan, of all people, is probably the only one who understands. He did the same damn thing. Fuck.//
Unable to take sitting quietly anymore, Scott put his money down on the counter and shuffled quickly out of the bar. The air outside was only marginally cleaner, and his lungs protested the change for the thousandth time. After spending so many years in the clean country atmosphere of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, his body and mind were ill prepared to face city life. //But where else could I be just another person?//
//Not that I need to hide. No one is looking. The professor could find me anytime he wanted. But he hasn't. And he won't.// Scott kicked an empty can into a ditch and watched the dirty sidewalk as he headed back to his motel. //And I can't go back on my own. What does the fearless leader of the X-Men do when challenged with adversity?// Scott thought bitterly. //He runs.//
Title: "Faded"
Series: Driving Force #11
Distribution: Anyone who has my fic, anyone who asks nicely for it, http://www.geocities.com/aloysiusj/xfic.html
Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, unfortunately. I'd really love to own Scott. But for now I'm just borrowing them, so don't sue! I also don't own the song "Broadway" by Goo Goo Dolls.
'Ship: none (mention of Logan/Jean)
Classification: angst
Summary: Scott sits in a New York City bar and contemplates his situation.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: none
Feedback: to wilde_moon@yahoo.com please
Broadway is dark tonight
A little bit weaker than you used to be
Broadway is dark tonight
See the young man sitting
In the old man's bar
Waiting for his turn to die.
~Goo Goo Dolls "Broadway"
The constant hazy smoke in the bar had long ago moved Scott's headache up to a migraine. His head pounded with every beat of the tinny-sounding jukebox. A half-finished beer, his first and last of the night, sat on the counter in front of him.
The bartender threw an annoyed glance in the young man's direction and groused, "You gonna drink that or just memorize the label?" Receiving no reply, he mumbled something about Scott being a "cheap bastard" and turned away to attend more serious patrons.
It didn't really matter to Scott whether the bartender hated him or not. //By tomorrow, I'll either be in another bar or another city.// For almost a month, New York City had provided refuge, an easy place to get lost in the crowd. No one gave a second glance to the morose young man with red sunglasses. Scott sighed. He needed to be further away. It was still tempting to return to Westchester.
A skinny woman-almost a girl-with long, stringy bleached-blond hair and too much make-up even in the dim light sat down at the bar next to Scott and offered her best approximation of a sultry smile. "Hey, there. You look like you could use some cheering up."
Scott gave her a sideways glance, then stared resolutely at his beer. "No thanks."
"Aw, c'mon, it won't cost you much."
Her hand moved to his thigh, sliding higher and higher until Scott caught her wrist. "I'm not interested, okay?"
The woman jerked her hand away, obviously angry. "Fuck you, loser," she hissed before stalking over to another man on the other end of the bar.
//Can't even have a civil conversation with a hooker,// he half-joked to himself. His gaze scanned the bar. The people inside were no different than the people he had seen in any other bar, and most of them were there for more or less the same reason he was: to forget, to be forgotten, to get lost in the shadows.
A few odd jobs here and there plus a lifetime of savings kept Scott in cheap food and scuzzy motels with little trouble. //Is this really the way I want to live my life? Do I want to run forever? Of course, even if I don't, I can't go back to the only real home I've ever had.// Returning to the school wasn't an option, and his parents had certainly pushed thoughts of him as far from their minds as possible. He was a freak, an embarrassment, a blight on their flawless social record.
At first after he left, he held some sort of bizarre hope that someone would come after him, beg him to come home. But weeks passed and no one came. He still regretted having had to face Logan before leaving. The lack of reproach in the other man's eyes still weighed on him. //Logan, of all people, is probably the only one who understands. He did the same damn thing. Fuck.//
Unable to take sitting quietly anymore, Scott put his money down on the counter and shuffled quickly out of the bar. The air outside was only marginally cleaner, and his lungs protested the change for the thousandth time. After spending so many years in the clean country atmosphere of Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, his body and mind were ill prepared to face city life. //But where else could I be just another person?//
//Not that I need to hide. No one is looking. The professor could find me anytime he wanted. But he hasn't. And he won't.// Scott kicked an empty can into a ditch and watched the dirty sidewalk as he headed back to his motel. //And I can't go back on my own. What does the fearless leader of the X-Men do when challenged with adversity?// Scott thought bitterly. //He runs.//