Summary: Scott and Jean take a look at their past as the two find solace in the beauty of a winter wonderland. A pre-Evolution look at their friendship, and hints of future romance. Takes place in the same timeline as Ruby Quartz.
Pairing (s): Scott/Jean
Rating for this Chapter: PG-13
Chapter 5
At the sound of adamentium claws, both Scott and Jean jumped away from each other, startled. Standing some ten feet away from them, in full combat uniform, was Storm and a very pissed off Logan, who looked ready to murder someone. Scott's gonna pay for leadin' Jean down here.
~The kid is gonna die....~
Wolverine tried to control his anger, the rage that was being pumped into his veins relentlessly, by counting to ten. It took all of his control to sheath the knives in his hands before he did something rash, notably mutilating Scott. As far as he was concerned, nobody, besides the four residents of the mansion, was supposed to know about the sub-levels. A tense silence settled over the corridor, with Scott and Jean holding each other on one side and Ororo and Logan standing on the other. The quiet was deafening. Everyone was taken aback when it was finally shattered.
"Scott, what the f*** are ya' doin'?!?" Logan roared. A bolt of psychic pain tore through Jean's mind as the gruff voice amplified her splitting headache to intolerable levels. The young girl never even knew that someone could yell that loud. She looked sideways at Scott, who simply stood up, looking straight into Logan's eyes as the older mutant walked up to them. Despite being a couple inches shorter than Scott, Wolverine still seemed to tower over his lean figure.
"WELL?!?" Logan shouted inches from Scott's face, forcing him to step back a bit. Being too angry to care for anything besides the boy in front of him, Wolverine ignored the calming gestures from Ororo as he continued to viciously condemn Scott. In a chain derogatory phrases that would leave even Jack O'Diamonds blushing, Jean picked up something about a Danger Room and the X-men. Remarkably, Scott managed to retain much of his composure throughout his brutal rebuke.
"'Ro, do me a favour and get Jean to the med lab, would ya?" Logan panted, after venting his anger on Scott. He gestured to Jean, who was still sitting on the floor. "Check her for any internal injuries or signs of cardiac arrest; those tasers were designed to take out a full grown mutant, not a fourteen year old girl."
"I'm sorry," Scott apologized, voice admirably steady. He didn't know why he was taking the blame, but his sense of responsibility was overwhelming. His gaze never wondered from the Canadian in front of him. "It was an accident."
"Yer sorry... Yer freakin' sorry..." Logan repeated, sounding it out himself. "Yeah, I'm sorry too, kid. Fer thinking you were actually ready to become an X-man. Jeannie just bats her pretty eyelashes and you cave like a wet paper towel! Hell, I thought you were better than that!"
Scott's mouth dropped a little, dazed by Logan's accusing words, before his jaw clenched shut, pretending that nothing had affected him. He had always wanted to be an X-man, ever since Storm and Wolverine rescued him from the streets nearly two years ago. He needed a future to believe in, to fight for; thus, when Charles Xavier explained his vision of a peaceful co-existence between mutants and humans, Scott grasped the idea and held onto it for dear life. The X-men were his future.
With her undeveloped telepathy, Jean felt Scott's heart sink, and knew that he blinked behind his ruby-quartz glasses. Although his poker face might've fooled Storm and maybe Logan, his reaction couldn't escape a telepath. Jean's stomach twisted in a tight knot of guilt. This whole ordeal was her fault, not Scott's, and she felt utterly horrible of the brutal admonishment he was receiving on her behalf. She attempted to step in, hoping to salvage the situation.
"Really, it was...." Jean started, but Scott immediately cut her off.
"It won't happen again," he assured with false poise as Storm bent over, helping Jean to her feet. He shot her a look that read Be quiet - Let me handle this.
"Of course not," the Canadian sneered, "cause ya'll be scrubbing the DR with a toothbrush for the next ten years."
"It won't happen again," Scott repeated, softly this time. With that, he quietly brushed past Wolverine and down the hall, leaving the adults and Jean staring at his retreating figure.
***********************************************************************
"Well, you got one nasty shock, that's for sure," Storm chuckled, softly tucking a strand of red hair behind Jean's ear. "How are you feeling?"
Jean was lying on a bed in the Institute infirmary, Miss Monroe and Logan standing nearby. "I'm fine - just a bit dizzy," she smiled back. The truth was, her whole body ached and her head was throbbing painfully, but she didn't tell them that. "Can I see Scott?"
"No way, Red," Logan's gruff voice rumbled through the room, staring thoughtfully at a stack of paper towels. "The kid is in trouble, big time."
Storm rose slowly off her seat on Jean's bed and walked across the room to where the Canadian was standing. Grabbing Wolverine by the arm and hauling him into a dark corner, Ororo said quietly, "I'm sure he meant no harm."
"'Ro, Jeannie isn't even supposed to know that there is a basement," Logan whispered back. "She practically made it into the Danger Room, fer cryin' out loud." Despite their attempts to be discreet, Jean picked up most of their conversation with her telepathy. She really wanted to see Scott. Deciding that it was for the best, the redhead decided to come clean with the truth.
"It wasn't his fault." At the sound of Jean's voice, both adults stopped their discussion and stared at her. "What are ya talking about?"
"We got into a fight," the redheaded girl explained, "I ran into the elevator crying. It took me to wherever I was - the Danger Room, I guess. I must've set something off, because then the guns started shooting. I got hit and was knocked out. When I woke up, Scott was over me, protecting me. The whole thing was my fault, not Scott's."
The two instructors were shocked. This revelation certainly had come as a big surprise. Logan winced and covered half his face with a big hand. "Are you saying that Boy Scout saved you?" he asked, voice full of disbelief.
"Well, I don't know if Scott saved me, but he certainly was there when I woke up. And the gun that tagged me wasn't there anymore."
"Not good," Wolverine muttered. "'Ro, what if the kid gets all prickly quiet again?"
"I told you that you shouldn't have yelled at him," the African instructor groaned, "Go find him, Logan. See if he'll talk to you." With a nod, the stout Canadian left. There was a long silence as Ororo walked over and reclaimed her seat on the edge of Jean's bed. Her ocean blue eyes were staring off into space when Jean's voice brought the older mutant back to reality.
"Miss Monroe, what did Logan mean when he said Scott might get all 'prickly quiet' again?" Jean asked, concerned. As far as she was aware, the boy was already unnaturally quiet.
"Well," Ororo looked unsure on how to proceed, trying to convey her thoughts into words without alarming the young girl. "Scott is very shy and very.... troubled. His whole family was killed a few years ago and the experience was very hard on him. When we enrolled him into the Institute, he barely spoke at all. It took a long time for him to trust us, and now, we're not sure if we destroyed his trust or not."
Jean nodded understandingly. "I know," the redhead said softly. "He showed me."
"What?" the older woman gaped dumbly. If what Jean said was true, Scott had opened up to Jean more in less than a day than he did for them in almost two years. Storm couldn't have been more surprised if Magneto suddenly knocked on the door wearing a 'World Peace' shirt.
"He did?"
"Yes, Scott showed me," Jean repeated. "He let me look into his mind for a while, to explain why he got so mad at me before. I saw fire, some type of red explosion, and some scary guys." She paused, collecting her thoughts. Deep down, though, the little girl saw that all Scott really wanted was someone to look after him, to care. It was all she really wanted too. ~Mutant powers have a strange way of bringing people together~
The older woman broke into a huge smile, unshed tears blurring her vision. Scott and Jean have practically bonded at the hip within the short time the redheaded girl has stayed at the Institute. A friend was what Scott needed afterall.
***
Logan breathed in the crisp, fresh air as his keen sense of smell led him outside. His enhanced eyesight easily saw through the darkness of the night as the Canadian walked down a small dirt trail, heading for the lake. After taking a few moments to get his bearings, he finally found who he was looking for. Scott was leaning with his back to a large tree, arms crossed and eyes drifting sideways over the moonlit water. His crimson shades glowed ever so faintly in the dark.
"There ya are," Logan grunted, "I've been looking fer ya." The younger mutant just rolled his eyes, safely concealed behind crimson walls. Jean must've told them.
"Here to tell me that my punishment's over?" Scott asked, as if he was telepathic. The younger mutant didn't even spare him a glance. He seemed to be mesmerized by the small waves rippling gently over the silver surface of the lake.
"Y.…yeah," the older mutant dragged out slowly, as if unsure of himself. Logan had never apologized to anyone in words before. He wasn't going to start now.
"What if I happened to enjoy the thrill of a vigorous Danger Room session?" he taunted, saving the older mutant from apologizing. If Logan didn't know better, he could've swore that Scott was smiling.
"Then I'll cya tomorrow mornin' at five-thirty," he paused, a toothy grin etched on his face before continuing. "Chuck's ordering yer uniform. It's gonna take a while - stuff that's bullet-proof, shock-proof, withstand burns, keeps ya warm and feels comfortable is pretty hard to find, and even more expensive to buy."
"Sounds like the Professor put a lot of thought into this," Scott remarked, secretly pleased.
"He has. And that's not even the best part. The doctor who made your glasses, Prescott, is working on a combat visor that'll allow you to fire your optic blasts with greater speed, ease and control." Logan emphasized that last word very carefully, knowing that it was something that the young mutant longed for. "It even comes with a small FLIR camera, so that ya can see better in the dark."
"Thanks," Scott said softly, turning to look at Logan for the first time.
The man just grunted in response. "Don't thank me Boy Scout. Thank the Professor," he turned to walk away. He stopped after a few steps, turning around.
"Now if yer down cryin', someone wants to cya in the med-lab."
***
A faint shuffling of socks brushing over the metal floor aroused Jean Grey from her light sleep. It was dark when she opened her eyes, save for the dim lights radiating beyond the infirmary door. Her drowsiness instantly disappeared when there was a loud crashing from the other side of the room, followed by a string of muffled curses. A muted flash of red flickered in the darkness, immediately betraying the identity of the wincing shadow.
"Hey," she greeted, glad that Scott had came to see her. There was just enough light from the hallway to make out his figure in the dark. She didn't realize how much she wanted to talk to him until now, as the boy limped over and stood a few metres off the foot of her bed.
"Hi," he replied shyly, finding a spot on the floor interesting. "Sorry to wake you up. Logan said you wanted to see me?"
Jean nodded. He pulled out a chair and hauled it over to where she was lying. Dragging it beside her bed, Scott plopped down on the seat, head resting on crossed arms as he sat with the backrest between his legs. Neither said anything for a while.
"So," he started, agitated by the silence, "you feeling any better?"
"Much better," she responded conversationally. "I don't feel as fuzzy anymore and my headache's gone,"
"Do you need anything? Water, maybe an extra blanket?" he asked, not content with just 'better.' Jean shook her head, smiling appreciatively.
"Quite a first day, eh?" she mused lightly, looking at Scott. "It's not everyday you get fried by trigger-happy laser guns."
"No, I suppose not," he shrugged, wearing his usual poker face. The redhead let off an audible groan; Scott acted like it happened everyday.
"You know something, Scott?" Jean was looking at him with a mischievous glint in her emerald eyes. Suddenly, there was a sinking feeling in the boy's stomach. "Someday, I'm going to get you to smile."
There was a snort as Scott looked away dubiously. "Well, sure, I guess. The probability of such a phenomenon occurring, though infinitesimal, is not exactly nil," he retorted dryly.
Jean had to laugh at that. "Would you lighten up?"
"Maybe 'someday,'" Scott promised, repeating her vow. Pretending to give it some thought, he added jokingly, "Think about it: the way I see it, every force needs an opposite to counteract it. My job is to keep all your perkiness and fun in check with my cynicism and apathy." He shrugged, again acting like it was no big deal. Jean just rolled her eyes.
"Whatever," she smiled, smacking him lightly in the arm. Scott just tilted his head, looking at her thoughtfully. At once, the relaxed atmosphere around them seemed to be replaced by an uneasy tension. After a while, the redhead started to become self-conscious under his gaze.
"What is it?" Jean asked softly, afraid that she might've did something wrong. Okay, so maybe her friendship with Scott was comparable to a minefield...
"Nothing," his voice was delicate, mixed with a tinge of dreaminess. "Just wondering what you look like in colour, that's all."
"You mean you're colour blind?" her voice was full of surprise.
"Uhh, yeah," Scott answered, a little embarrassed, "You didn't know?"
"No! You still didn't tell me what your powers are yet." Jean reached out with one hand for his glasses but he caught her wrist, holding it gently.
"You don't want to do that," Scott said in a calm voice. At her questioning look, he elaborated. "My eyes emit powerful force rays that the Professor calls 'concussive optic blasts.' The thing is, I have absolutely no control over them. The only way I can see is if I wear these shades, 24/7." He pointed to his glasses. "Since the blasts and the glasses are red, that's the only colour I am able to see in."
"But I can't control my powers either. That's why we're here, right? Isn't control what we're here to learn?"
Scott's gaze dropped slightly in defeat. "That's the speech," he muttered sadly. "But I can't. Brain damage." Scott emphasized his point by tapping his temple softly.
"Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to...." Jean trailed off, clearly embarrassed. At least she had the decency to look repentant. The redhead slowly extracted her arm from Scott's grasp and laced her fingers through his instead, squeezing it apologetically.
"Its alright," Scott dismissed indifferently, waving it off. However, somehow, Jean felt that it was. Feeling the need to share something with Scott in return, she said, "I told my parents that I hate them." A single tear rolled down her cheek as the painful words escaped her throat.
"It's okay. I'm sure they knew you didn't mean it," Scott comforted, reaching over to the counter for a tissue. He offered it to the redhead, who gratefully accepted it.
"I miss them," she whispered softly, wiping away tears. She did miss them: her dad, her mom, Sarah... Jean wanted to go home.
"I'm sure you do," he comforted. Scott, whose family died when he was eight, missed his parents even now; thus he had no doubt that the redhead would miss hers. Talking about family made him relive moments he'd rather forget, but it was nice to have someone to share his grief with.
"Can I go back upstairs?" Jean suddenly burst out, startling the body beside her. "I feel a lot better, and I really prefer to sleep upstairs where the rest of my stuff is."
"Sure," Scott agreed, nodding understandingly. Her body shivered a bit as she left the warmth of bed. He felt Jean trembling and wrapped a small blanket around her shoulders.
"Thanks," she smiled as Scott walked the redhead out of the med lab, through the sublevels of the Institute and to the elevator. Jean was understandably tense, considering what happened the last time she navigated through these very corridors. Fortunately, they made it to the first floor without incident.
"Watch your step," Scott cautioned as they walked through the dark foyer and up the stairs. Jean held onto his hand as he led her to the girl's wing of the mansion. Finally, they stopped outside the door to her bedroom. Finding it unlocked, he gently ushered Jean inside.
Jean's eyes were suddenly heavy with sleep, and combined with the after-effects of her paralysis, caused her to stumble clumsily as she tried to walk across the room. Scott almost laughed out loud when the redhead nearly walked into her dresser.
"Here Jean, let me help you." Grabbing Jean by the shoulders, he kindly guided the telepath to her bed, on which she immediately collapsed. The day's events had certainly taken its toll on the young girl, and she was eager for some rest.
"Do you need anything?" Scott asked by the doorway.
"Yeah," she muttered, unsuccessfully suppressing a yawn. "Slim."
"Slim?" he asked, confused.
"Yeah, my stuffed tiger."
"Uh-huh," Scott dragged out teasingly, his tone suggesting that there was something seriously wrong with her.
"Don't laugh! Slim's my best friend - I had him since I was four!" Jean shook her head in a futile attempt to fight her drowsiness. "He and I, we look out for each other."
"Sure," Scott replied, "where is he?"
"It's in the suitcase by the door - can you get him for me? Please?" Jean requested through half-lidded eyes, her voice throaty with sleep. Scott felt his throat go dry and his thinking out the window as he stared at the beautiful sight in front of him, before forcing himself to look away. When she asked like that, how could he refuse?
Briefly skimming over her neatly packed clothes and stuff, Scott finally found the furry orange thing. Pulling it out, he could see why Jean named it Slim - it was pretty skinny, considering that it was supposed to impersonate the biggest cat in the animal kingdom. Yet it lacked none of the persona of a tiger. Walking over, Scott tenderly placed 'Slim' in her slender hands, which swiftly snatched the stuffed animal once within reach.
Cuddling it to her chest, Jean hummed happily, snuggling the tiger's head affectionately. Scott felt a pang of envy at the attention the stuffed cat was receiving, before realizing he was jealous of a stuffed animal. Smiling to himself, he walked out of her room with a soft "Goodnight." As he closed the door, a powerful thought streaked brightly through his mind.
//Goodnight to you too, Slim\\
Walking to his room, Scott suddenly realized that the chances of smiling weren't that small afterall.