Rebirth and Awakenings
Chapter 9
Jean said nothing to Scott about what happened the next day, and showing remarkable tact, neither did Scott. But Jean thought about it a great deal. She was mostly angry at Robert. He was behaving like a teenager, making out with his girlfriend downstairs while "the adults" were upstairs -- it was ridiculous at their age. She couldn't imagine Scott being that stupid.
Then there was Scott. She knew he had a crush on her and at first, she was flattered. Jean wasn't used to that kind of attention. But over the past year, Jean had begun to regard Scott as a true friend -- someone who would listen to her and really care. She found herself forgetting about their age difference and treated him as an adult -- an equal. Scott had been so good to her and was always happy to do anything for her, from back rubs to helping Hank drill her for exams.
But he wasn't her age, and he wasn't an adult. Scott was a minor, living under Professor Xavier's protection. She shouldn't be encouraging his advances. He should be kissing some cheerleader, not a twenty something medical student.
But she couldn't forget how soft his lips were -- and how right it felt.
* * *
That afternoon, Professor Xavier called Scott into his study.
"I have a favor to ask," he said. "If you feel capable of it."
"Sure," Scott said automatically. "What do you need?"
"Cerebro is picking up some anomalies in Connecticut. It could be a mutant whose gifts are beginning to manifest. But the readings are strange. In fact, they are so unusual to be almost incomprehensible. I'd like you to go and retrieve the mutant, and bring him back here."
Scott was startled. While the Professor occasionally used Cerebro to locate mutants this was the first time he was asking someone else to go, other than himself. Scott had no hesitation, though -- he owed the Professor too much. "Fine," he replied. "I can do that."
"I'd rather you didn't go alone, though," Professor Xavier added. "He seems to be reasonably young, but it might be better if there were two of you. Since Ororo's not here, I'd like you to take Jean with you. Her telekinesis might be of assistance."
Scott wasn't sure how he felt about that; it was almost as if the Professor didn't trust him to go and pick someone up on his own. It was only a simple retrieval; how hard could it be?
* * *
Scott found Jean and explained the situation to her. The unusual nature of the request banished any awkward feelings between them. In less than half an hour, they were headed towards Connecticut, where Cerebro said the mutant was.
Scott wasn't entirely sure he trusted this Cerebro thing. He had only been in the room once ("This is a big round room," was his only comment). But the place gave him the heebie-jeebies and he steered clear of it whenever he was in the basement. Scott had become used to the striking difference between the upstairs and the basement areas. Originally excavated and built as a laboratory for Xavier's physicist father, the Professor had expanded and added to the area. The basement was now bigger than the house above it, which was saying something.
* * *
Scott was at the wheel of the van, much to Jean's annoyance. A year ago, Scott was almost timid; now he got in the front seat and took control with an ease that startled her. Jean pointed out all the reasons he shouldn't be driving; he wasn't going to be seventeen for another couple of weeks and he had obtained his drivers license only a few months ago. Scott merely returned that he seldom got lost and Jean was there for backup. Miffed at the unexpected retort, Jean lapsed into a sulky silence.
They found their destination easily. It was an abandoned warehouse in a run down section of town. Scott parked the van and looked around; it was late summer, but he felt a sudden chill.
"Jean," he warned. "I don't like the feel of this. Something's wrong. Stay close."
Ordinarily, Jean would have made a quip about his suddenly bossy tone, but she didn't. She felt it too.
They looked around the street for a moment and picked the large building in front of them as a likely candidate for someone to hide. There was a rickety staircase in front of them and a door to the right. Scott opened the door carefully, keeping Jean well behind him.
Scott took in the locale in an instant. There was a dirty mattress on the floor, a few wood chairs, a folding table -- and a wide-eyed boy.
As far as Scott was concerned, discussion could wait. "You're coming with us," he said as he strode into the room and grabbed the boy's arm.
But the boy wrenched it back. "I don't want to go," he whined.
"Look," Scott began with exasperation. "You may think he cares about you, but -- "
"Well, well, what do we have here?" a voice said behind them. They turned.
The man was in his twenties probably, but he had an older, harder, feel about him. He moved from the doorway and walked to the center of the room. Scott made sure to keep themselves between him and the door.
"Who are you?" Jean asked.
"They call me Jack," he said. "Billy, come here."
The boy pulled away from Scott and moved to Jack's side. "He wouldn't go with you, you know. Not unless I told him."
Scott had the bizarre feeling he was watching cobra. It was almost hypnotizing. Then he realized in horror, it wasn't the boy that was the mutant, it was Jack!
"Jean, don't look at him," Scott warned.
But it was too late. Jean was already under.
"You figured it out," Jack said as he moved closer to Scott. Scott, in turn, backed up, trying to keep a clear line to Jean and the door.
"You're pretty," Jack leered at Scott. "The girl is nice enough, but you're special. You'll do very well for me."
"Go to hell!"
"I don't think so," Jack said smoothly. "I think you'll work for me. And your girlfriend. You will in the end."
Scott made up his mind. There was nothing he could do for the boy, but there was no way he was going to allow Jean to be held in this mutant's thrall. He got hold of Jean and made for the door. She didn't resist. "We're getting out of here."
"Think you're strong enough to oppose me, *pretty boy*?"
They were words that made Scott's blood run cold, but he didn't let it show. "I know I am," Scott replied as he lifted his glasses.
The bolt of energy shot the mutant across the room. Scott grabbed Jean and fled. He didn't look back once.
* * *
Jean regained her senses halfway back to Westchester.
"What was that?" she asked.
"I don't know," Scott answered. "Suggestive power maybe. Maybe something with the eyes. That could be why he didn't control me quickly; the glasses might have caused some interference. Either way, we have to let the Professor know."
Scott gripped the wheel of the van as he drove so Jean couldn't see how much his hands were shaking.
* * *
Scott quickly poured out the story to Professor Xavier the second they got back. The Professor was suitably horrified by what they found.
"I'll make sure the situation is taken care of," he assured Scott. "I know of a mutant that used to be with Interpol; he's living in New York now. I'll warn him of Jack's power. I'm sorry I sent you in unprepared." The Professor hesitated, then continued. "You used your gift against him?"
"It was the only way to get out of there," Scott explained. "So I blasted him."
So calm -- too calm. So unlike the boy who used to be terrified of his gift. If this was a harbinger of things to come, Professor Xavier was not happy. "Is he dead?" he asked Scott.
"With luck."
"Scott," Professor Xavier's voice was firm. "We don't kill." The Professor had no objection to his students using their powers to defend themselves, but lethal force was to be avoided at all costs. If this were a change in Scott's behavior, it needed to be nipped in the bud right now.
"I can," Scott replied. "And I will -- to protect myself and my friends. Don't worry, Professor. I'm not going on a rampage." He took a deep breath. "I'm going to the gym."
He turned and walked away leaving a very concerned Charles Xavier to stare after him.
* * *
Jean went looking for Scott later, finally tracking him down in the gym. She watched Scott from the doorway, beating a punching bag to death with his fists and his feet, using every karate move he had learned, as well as some street moves that would never be taught in a class.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked.
"No," Scott's voice was firm as he continued his assault on the punching bag.
"Sometimes it helps."
"Only in your psych books," he returned.
"I didn't know you had read them," Jean said drily and sat down on the bench. And waited.
She didn't have long to wait. Scott stopped punching the bag and looked at her.
"What's wrong?" Jean asked again.
"We barely got out alive," Scott remarked disgustedly.
"Thanks to you we did."
Scott shook his head. No, in his eyes he had done nothing.
"Come and sit down," Jean urged. Finally he did, but he made sure not to touch her. But she didn't need him to for her to get a sense of his thoughts. The anguish was pouring off of him. But *why*?
"*Please* tell me what's wrong," she begged.
"When the Professor asked me if we could handle making a recovery of a mutant, I thought, 'Sure, I can do this,'" Scott said miserably. "Who was I kidding? I'm not strong enough. I've never been strong enough. People have walked over me my whole life, they've ... they've ..."
"What have they done, Scott? This is more than a recovery gone wrong. Please, tell me. I can't help unless I know."
He shook his head.
Jean put her arm around his shoulder and moved closer. Scott flinched, but didn't try to push her away. "I've seen the scars on your back," she said quietly. He shuddered. "I'm not a fool, Scott; I know you've been abused."
"I never told anyone," he confided in a low voice. "The doctors in Washington knew, but I never told them."
"You can tell me," Jean whispered. "It doesn't matter what it is. You know you can trust me."
'You know you can trust me.' Scott could trust Jean. He had kept silent for *so* long. It was time to tell someone. "The scars are from the psych ward," Scott began. "They tried to make me ... but I wouldn't. So they beat me. They said they'd make me beg. That was the first time anyone tried ... and that's when my powers came. I blew the wall out and escaped."
Horrified, Jean pulled Scott closer to her. She understood exactly what he had said. *The first time.*
"Then what happened?" she asked.
"The blasts didn't last long," he continued quietly. "When I could open my eyes again, I ran. I stole a wallet in the confusion; there was enough money to get me to another city. I stayed in a shelter there as long as I could and then I moved on. I couldn't go back; I *wouldn't* go back. In another city, I got caught stealing and wound up in Juvie. There was an older girl there; she liked to touch ...; but I didn't care. That wasn't the worst."
"Tell me."
He took a deep breath, but he couldn't stop now. "It was two years ago, before I got to Washington. I was hiding in an abandoned building and ... some men found me there. It was my fault, I shouldn't have been there. They grabbed me and held me down and ..." Scott gulped. "There were two of them. I tried to get away, but I couldn't. No powers. Nothing."
Jean held him as he shuddered through the memory.
"When they were finished," he continued. "They threw me ten bucks. Said a pretty boy like me could make his living ... Oh, God, Jean, I took the money! I was so hungry, I hadn't eaten, I took the money."
"Shhhhh," she crooned. "Scott, listen to me. You were a victim. You were fifteen years old. It wasn't your fault."
"Why, Jean?" Scott asked. "Why could I save myself in the psych ward, but not there? Why did blasts come out of my eyes for no reason a dozen time before, but not *then*. There was *nothing*. I couldn't do anything to protect myself. I was helpless. I swore I'd never be helpless again." He snorted with disgust at his own words. "Who am I kidding," he repeated. "Nothing's changed. I'm weak, I'm prey -- I'll get you killed."
"Scott, listen to me," Jean said firmly. "You are *not* weak. Far from it. You're one of the strongest people I've ever met. And you weren't the one who almost got us killed. It was me. I fell under his power; not you. You were the one who stepped in and saved us both."
He shook his head in disagreement.
"No, Scott," she insisted. "You were right. You were right from the beginning. And in a bad situation, there's only one person I would want beside me -- you."
Jean guided his head to her shoulder. Scott didn't mind. His head was throbbing now and her shoulder was comfortable. Spontaneously, he kissed the gentle swell of her breast where his cheek lay.
She knew she should have remonstrated with him for that, but she couldn't bring herself to. Jean turned slightly so she could take him completely in her arms. Scott tensed at first, and then relaxed.
"You're safe with me," Jean whispered. "You'll always be safe with me."
* * *