Rebirth and Awakenings
Chapter 4
Scott may have felt drawn to Jean, but it would be Hank who would come up with the technology that would change his life.
They had been running tests with different kinds of quartz for over a week and finally had it narrowed down. There was a kind of quartz that didn't crack under his optic beam and seemed to be able to contain it. Ruby quartz Hank called it. They were back in the lab for a final test.
"Now, Scott," Hank said. "I want you to hold this up to your face and open your eyes."
Scott sighed and did what he was told. He opened his eyes and saw he was holding a big, flat slightly rounded stone. The beams weren't going through it; they hit the stone and stopped. For Scott, it was amazing.
"Pull it closer to your face," Hank instructed him.
He did so, pulling it almost to his nose. Hank noted with awe that while the beams pooled out a little, they didn't lick the edge of the stone. This was definitely the right material. Now all they had to do was figure out how to use it.
"Eureka," he breathed.
Scott closed his eyes. "This is good?" he asked.
"This is extraordinarily good." Scott couldn't see it, but Hank was beaming.
* * *
Three days later, Scott was back in the lab chair.
"Now," said Hank, barely controlling the excitement in his voice. "Let's try this."
Scott felt Hank place something heavy on his face. It was heavy and wrapped around his face, tapering back to fit behind his ears like eyeglasses.
"Open your eyes, Scott."
Cautiously, Scott opened his eyes. The room was in a red haze -- but nothing happened. No blasts, no damage, no screams.
He could see.
For a moment Scott was afraid to turn his head. Then slowly, he did. Standing just to his right was a young man in his twenties. He had a kindly face and *huge* hands, completely out of proportion to his body. This was Hank.
Slightly behind him, was an older man in a wheelchair. He smiled encouragingly at Scott. "Professor Xavier, I presume?" Scott joked. Then he bit his lip as it hit him.
He could *see*.
* * *
Everyone was delighted with the results -- even Warren, who didn't even mention that the visor looked a little silly on the teenager, which Scott already knew. Hank was going to experiment with ordinary eyeglass frames, to try to find something more comfortable and lightweight. Even Hank realized the quartz visor was heavy; however much he loved being able to see again, Scott was relieved to exchange it for his blindfold at night.
Although they had found their substance and Scott had a workable visor, Hank and the Professor continued to do testing on both the quartz and Scott's ability to control the force beams. Which resulted in later news, that, if it didn't take away from the joy Scott felt at having his sight returned, did put a damper on his enthusiasm.
* * *
That Saturday, Scott waited nervously for Jean to arrive. He was going to see her, finally. His mouth was dry and he was feeling very sick. 'That's all I need,' he thought glumly. 'To pass out. Then I'll really look like an idiot.'
He heard the hall door slam and Jean's quick footsteps. "Scott?" she called out.
They had told her, of course.
Slowly, he walked into the hall and stood there, dumbstruck.
She was beautiful.
Jean had been described to him, of course, by various people, including Jean. He knew she had red hair and brown eyes. He knew she was very tall; taller than he was. But that didn't prepare him for how everything fit together. She was -- gorgeous. She took his breath away.
She turned and smiled. His heart leapt.
"Hi," he managed to get out.
"Hi, yourself," she responded with a big hug. "You can see okay with those?"
"Fine," he said. Oh, God, she had a beautiful smile. "Hank says my vision is twenty-twenty. I see everything in red, but that's better than nothing at all. Trust me."
Jean laughed.
She had a beautiful laugh, too. But after living in the house for a month, listening for the sound of her voice, Scott already knew that.
* * *
The rest of the day was spent outside. Scott was slowly getting used to having his sight back, as well as the red wash he saw everything in now. In some ways, being able to see again felt stranger than being blind. But he wasn't complaining. Red haze or not, he was independent once more. He didn't need Jean or Ororo to run interference for him. He was back in control of his life and it felt great.
They were playing volleyball after lunch in the back garden. It was a game Scott had always enjoyed. He and Warren played against Jean and Ororo. Although their senior by several years, Jean never balked at joining their games. In many ways, it was easy to forget they were in high school and she was in medical school. Jean often seemed as much Scott's contemporary as Ororo was.
The game had been going well and Warren and Scott were winning. Scott had a natural athleticism as well as a truly competitive spirit. Warren was glad for once to have Scott playing with him. Scott had a unique ability, likely tied to his mutation, of being able to track objects in space. It was almost as if he knew where the ball was going to be, seconds before it got there. It was no wonder they were winning. But Ororo and Jean were not going down without a fight.
Ororo sent the ball back to the net with a hard slam of her fist. Scott jumped to block it. Then it happened. He misjudged the shot and the ball hit Scott in the face, sending his visor askew. A bolt of energy shot out, taking down a tree limb behind them.
Ororo screamed and ducked for cover.
Scott shut his eyes instinctively in terror. He had done it again. Blown something up. Even with the visor, he was a danger to everything and everyone.
With all these thoughts in his mind, and the memory of every explosion he had ever caused, he turned and ran for the house before anyone could stop him. He heard Jean call after him, but he didn't stop.
* * *
Jean, Ororo, and Warren stared at each other, dumbstruck. They had never seen the blasts that came from Scott's eyes before. It was more than impressive, it was downright scarey.
But Jean was more concerned for Scott. She had had accidents herself, in the early days of her mutation. She knew what it was like to feel like you were making headway in controlling your gift, only to have it all fall apart minutes later. She followed Scott into the house and knocked at his bedroom door.
"Go away," he called in a muffled voice.
She ignored him and entered.
The lights were off and the setting sun sent shadows across the room. Scott lay on the bed with his back to door. His visor lay beneath his sprawled hand.
"Go away," he repeated. "I don't want to hurt you."
Jean ignored him and sat on the edge of the bed. "Scott, you're not going to hurt me. It was an accident. We've all had accidents, trust me. There's nothing to be worried about. Everyone's fine; you just took out a tree limb."
"I could have killed someone," he choked. "I know what I can do, Jean. How can the Professor call this a gift? If I can't chance using a visor; I'm going to have to wear a blindfold for the rest of my life."
"Scott, that's not necessarily true ..."
"Yes, it is." He sighed and continued to speak, keeping his eyes squeezed shut and his back to her. "You weren't here. The Professor and Hank talked to me a couple of days ago. They got all the x-rays and everything that was done from all the hospitals I was at as a kid. I have a dead patch in my brain. It's the part that would have allowed me to turn it on or off. There's nothing anyone can do. I'm brain damaged."
The last was said in a whisper. Jean said nothing; what could she say? She moved closer to him stroked his hair gently. At first he flinched at her touch. He was so unused to caresses it broke Jean's heart.
"Okay," she said. "So you won't be able to turn it off. That doesn't mean that learning some control will be out of the question. And the visor does work. We just have to be a little careful, that's all. Put your visor back on, Scott," she coaxed. "Come back outside. I'm not leaving until you come back with me."
Scott sighed and put his visor back on. After a few moments, he rolled onto his back and looked at her. Jean smiled.
"Do you really think I can learn some control?" he asked.
"I think if it's possible," Jean replied honestly. "You'll be able to do it. I have faith in you, Scott."
She had faith in him. That wasn't something Scott was accustomed to hearing. It was something to live up to, at any rate.
* * *
That Sunday night was quiet in the mansion. Jean decided at the last minute to stay the night and return to the city the next morning, instead of driving back that afternoon. Scott was glad she stayed longer and so was Professor Xavier. Scott had been badly shaken by the accident and Jean had been the only one who was able to make him see that there was nothing to be upset about. As a sign that the Professor believed the visor would work and that Scott was not a danger to anyone, Scott's bedroom had been moved upstairs that weekend. There wasn't a lot to move, but the symbolism meant a great deal.
But the late night calm was broken. Scott woke with a start at the sound of a woman screaming. *Jean screaming.* Quickly, he exchanged his blindfold for his visor and went to the door. He saw Ororo coming down the hall, away from Jean's room.
"What was that?" Scott asked.
"It's just Jean," Ororo said, not unkindly. "She has nightmares sometimes. She says she's okay. Goodnight, Scott." Ororo closed the door to her room. No one else was in the hallway. It must be a common experience, if only one other person checked to see how Jean was.
Scott stood for a moment in the doorway. That scream certainly hadn't sounded 'okay' to him. He hesitated for a moment, then went down the hall to Jean's room and knocked at the door.
"Come in," a shaky voice said.
He opened the door and went to Jean's bedside. She was sitting up, hugging her knees. The bedside table lamp was on and cast a soft light over the room.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked.
"I'm fine," she said, but she couldn't keep the sob out of her voice.
He sat on the side of the bed. "You don't sound fine."
"I have nightmares. Bad ones sometimes. This one was -- pretty bad."
Scott took Jean's hand and began stroking it. "I can stay with you for a while," he offered.
"That's okay," she said. "You don't have to. I'll be fine."
Scott sat and thought. There had to be something he could do to help. Regardless of what Jean said, she was not *fine*. Then he remembered something one of his foster parents used to do when he had nightmares and headaches. He moved to sit behind her and began to rub her shoulders.
"God, you're tense. No wonder you have nightmares," Scott commented. "You work too hard."
In spite of herself, Jean laughed. From anyone else, that would be a pickup line, and an old one at that. But Scott said it with nothing more intended than honest concern. It was sweet.
"I'm in medical school, Scott; tense comes with the ter -- oh, that's great," she murmured. Jean had never had a proper massage before. She was stunned by how much better she felt after a few minutes.
"Good," Scott said as he kept massaging her shoulders. He stayed with her until she had relaxed enough where she could fall asleep. Then he went back to his own room, pleased with himself. It felt nice to be able to do something for her, something no one else could do. And deep down, he loved being able to touch her.
He went to bed and slept soundly until he heard the birds singing in the morning.
* * *