AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hi. Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry, SORRY for the long update time. Suffering from writer's block and overload of homework. Speaking of which, don't expect another update anytime soon. Exams are coming up, and fanfics is pretty low in the priority ladder right now. BTW, this chapter has not been properly proof-read, and I just wrote it yesterday morning after watching the Toad, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
One more thing. There is (some implied) subject matter, i.e. rape, child molesting, that is really more suitable for an older audience. Don't blame this on me! Blame it on the couple of fics posted recently by a very good writer *cough*Raedances*cough* Nothing too overly graphic, though.
Pairing (s): Scott/Jean
Rating for this Chapter: Beyond PG-13 for some swearing and dark situations.
Chapter 9
Scott was just walking to the elevator when he heard Jean running up to him. He slipped on his favorite jacket when, abruptly, her footsteps stopped. The pretty telepath stood as still as a statue, simply staring at him, jade eyes wide and lips slightly parted in shock.
"Scott?" she managed to stammer. The stranger in front of her turned around with raised eyebrows. All the telepath could think of at that moment was... Wow. A deep, dreamy, Wow.
The oversized leather jacket he was wearing hung stylishly over his broad shoulders, giving the illusion that the skinny boy was a lot bigger than he really was. Deadly optic blasts were blocked by a pair of trendy elliptical goggles that the redhead had never seen before, so dark that they were almost black - it matched his outfit well. And don't even get her started on what he was wearing... It didn't hide much.
Oh my God, Jean thought, Scott Summers in black latex? The tight, glossy fabric (that actually wasn't latex) hugged his powerful body well, stressing the deep lines of his hard muscles. To complete the suit, a gold, Kevlar 'X' ran across the width of his body, crossing over in the middle of his chest, with matching gloves and boots that ran up to almost his knees.
"Like what you see, Jean?" Scott teased as she just stood there and....stared. For a long time. Finally snapping out of her trance, the girl managed to cry out, "Scott, what are you wearing?"
"My brand-spanking-new, X-men uniform. What, you don't like it?"
'Don't like' would have been the last term the telepath would use to describe what she thought of his 'uniform' right now. Despite her brain screaming at her to look away, Jean found her eyes had other ideas as they ran happily over his body again. Scott continued, ignoring her gaze, "It's not the whole outfit, though. I still need a visor to contain my eyeblasts. Don't want to hit Logan or Ororo by accident."
However, Jean really wasn't listening, so immersed in her thoughts of Scott Summers in black latex. "Uh-huh," the redhead responded absently, "So...what are you going to do now?"
"What else? Time to test this new baby out."
"Where? In the Danger Room?" Jean asked, wanting to come along. But not to the Danger Room. No way.
"Not this time, Red," he responded smugly. The boy stepped into a small room and pulled out a large snowboard. Time to see how warm and waterproof his suit really is.
Ms. Monroe said he could take Jean if she wanted to come, but he wasn't sure if she did. The boy decided that a little persuasion wouldn't hurt. "The X-men are going to Mt. Aarros. I would invite you...but this is sort of a guy thing..." He set the bait, watching in wry amusement as Jean's eyes narrowed.
"...and I'm not sure if a girl could handle such a difficult assignment," he finished.
"What's that supposed to mean, Summers?" Jean spat, hands clenched tightly into fists.
"You know very well what I meant. I mean, you'll probably be too afraid to - woah!" He started to walk away, but felt himself yanked back by an invisible force. The telepath grabbed his wrist and practically dragged Scott back to her room.
~Hell hath no fury...like an angry Jean~ a little voice in his head laughed. Scott agreed.
"Come on, you guy. I'm going to get dressed, and then we are going to Mt. Aarros."
***
Ororo watched the two teens walking towards her with an arched brow as Scott and Jean stepped out of the elevator. The sight was nearly comical. Whereas the boy (young man, she corrected) was clad in his new X-men uniform, Jean was wearing a beige, wool turtleneck underneath a green ski jacket, along with stylish sports pants. The contrast was stunning.
"Are we ready to go?" the African asked. Both nodded in response. Smiling, she looked at Scott. "Since you have almost completed your training, you will be put in charge of this 'mission.' You can start by flying us there in the X-jet."
Scott's jaw dropped in shock. "Are you kidding me? I've logged only thirty hours of flight time on the bird!"
"But how much time did you spend on the simulator? Almost a thousand?" his instructor countered.
"But that still isn't enough time." Being the son of an SR-71 pilot, Scott was well versed in the world of piloting. However, 'Ro wasn't listening anymore, and was already punching in the access code to the X-jet hanger. Her confidence in his abilities, and Logan's and Charles', was absolute. Flying was second nature to the young boy, along with leadership. But he wasn't ready for the ladder yet.
The thick, chrome door slid open, granting the three mutants access to the hanger. Jean stepped inside, and found herself up close and personal with a beast. The black figure of the X-jet sat there menacingly on the hard, metal floor, its sinuous curves and sculptural form radiating an almost erotic energy, looking like smooth flawless skin over warm pulsing muscles rather than composite and titanium panels riveted to steel and aluminum ribs.
"Jean, meet the XR-77 Blackbird," Scott introduced the pride and joy of the X-men to her as he climbed inside its titanium hull. "Powered by twin, TV/VTOL Pegasus engines capable of ripping out twenty tons of thrust each. Top speed is Mach 5 at altitude, and..." he went on to ramble for several minutes on the technical specs and details.
"Where did you learn all that?" Jean asked, once he was finished. Crimson goggles dimmed briefly in sadness as his gloved fingers programmed the last of the flight data.
"My dad was a pilot," he replied, killing the subject with a tone of finality before changing it. "Nap of the earth, 'Ro?"
"You bet. The waypoints are already programmed into the computer. Just a walk in the park," she added.
Ten minutes and a lot of screams later, Jean was convinced that she was about to die. There's much to be said about flying at treetop height and one and half times the speed sound as the X-jet lanced through the air, leaving a huge heat wave in its wake.
*******************************************************
She had never skied before. Between spending her time in a mental institute, school, and taming uncontrollable mutant powers, there wasn't much time left for recreational activities. Staring out of a large window as Ororo rented their equipment, Jean caught sight of a shiny black figure carving down a mountain, slaloming his way around obstacles but occasionally flipping and grinding off ramps and metal rails as he saw fit.
~Scott's really good. Maybe he was right...maybe I'm not in his league~ she mused sadly.
Strapping on stiff, plastic boots before walking awkwardly outside, she stumbled with her skis and ski poles. Just as the redhead was trying to figure out how her bindings worked, Scott sped in quickly at a particularly fast speed, before stopping abruptly right in front of her, blanketing the redhead from head to toe in snow.
"You know," Jean sputtered out, coughing out some of the white, powdery substance in a mix of amusement and anger, "when I said you should show your fun side more often, I lied." With surprising agility, she tackled Scott to the ground, pinning his body down with her own weight and telekinesis.
"Hey!" Scott exclaimed, "Watch the uniform! Don't want to scratch it."
"It looks like it's straight out of a movie," she answered dryly. Smacking him lightly across the cheek, Jean got up off of him. "I want one."
Now it was Scott's turn to be surprised. "What? You can't have one unless you want to be an X-man."
"Who said I didn't want to be an X-man? Or, X-girl?" the redhead replied, fastening her boots into the ski bindings.
"But you're just a student! Not to mention the fact that you have no training!" he pointed out.
"So?" she asked, starting to get annoyed. "I'll learn. Besides, who said I haven't received any training?"
Jean looked up and laughed at the expression stamped on his face. It was priceless. "I could probably kick your ass in hand-to-hand combat, Slim. I have high-degree black belts in karate and judo."
Scott looked at her with disbelieving eyes. Not that he thought that Jean wasn't capable of beating him to a bloody pulp, mind you, but the fact that she had the time to train despite her busy schedule. Then he noticed the pained expression in her eyes...and realized that she shouldn't. The fact hit like a ton of bricks.
"There's a reason why you started training, isn't there?" Scott asked softly. Jean's grin fled and she remained silent, avoiding his gaze. The two made their way to the ski lifts and sat on one. "Would you like to tell me it?"
A single tear trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away with her scarf. "One of the people working at the mental asylum I was staying at wasn't exactly decent," she whispered softly.
"What?!?" Scott snarled, enraged. "How far did he go?"
"Just groping and molesting. I was drugged to death most of the time anyway. The Professor came and rescued me before the guy worked up the confidence to do more. If he didn't come, well..." her voice trailed off, leaving the thought hang. She closed her eyes, forcing warm rivers of tears out of the corners of her eyelids.
Scott slid over, embracing her in a tight hug. Pulling out a pack of Kleenexes, he tenderly wiped away the tears from her beautiful face. "It's okay. Never again, do you hear me? Jean, I won't let something like that happen to you ever again, as long as I live." His goggles flashed crimson brightly for affect.
Jean smiled, burying her face into his chest. "What about you? Did something like that ever happen to you?"
"You really want to know?"
"Yeah." Jean looked up at his face, seeing his brows furrowed in concentration.
"It did," he admitted, a scowl on his face. "The guy did it to others too, and then tried to on me. It was the last thing he ever tried." He tapped the side of his goggles nonchalantly. His words and the utterly emotionless tone in which they were articulated caused Jean to shiver in fear and shock.
"You killed him?" The words burst out before she could stop them. Her best friend was a killer?
"The fucker deserved it. He raped my best friend, and then strangled her after he was done with his business. Jessica was his fourteenth victim," he added sadly. "I should've done something sooner. But by the time I figured out what was happening, it was too late. I swear, I'll never make the same mistake again."
"Is that why you are so protective?" Jean asked, wrapping an arm around his waist.
"It's the main reason. I don't want to see anyone else that I care about getting hurt."
***
Jean was a quick learner, Scott noted as he slalomed after the mass of red hair. In a couple of short hours, his best friend not only mastered the basic skills of skiing but also some of the more intermediate and advanced skills as well, particularly parallel turning and stopping, to the point where she could zip down a black diamond course with relative ease.
With the wind rushing past her face, the feeling of speed and the sound of snow grinding under her skis, the fiery telekinetic was certain that she'd never had so much fun in her entire life. And Scott was with her; lately, that's all that seemed to matter. He had been so patient and understanding, showing her the ropes instead of running off by himself...
//Hey Jean, do you want to head back now for some hot chocolate? We've been going at it for three straight hours straight\\ the boy projected into her head.
//One more run, please?\\ she begged.
//Red, that's what you said the last eight times\\ he counted. Ahead of him, the telepath moaned exasperatedly and turned towards the lodge.
//Fine, you're no fun. But I want to try the big one again when we're done\\
"Whatever you want, Red," Scott said, pulling up beside her.
Ororo was already waiting for them inside the cozy building, and bought the two some hot drinks and food before telling them that they'll have to leave in two hours. The African woman then left the two teens alone, intent on returning to the mountain slopes for a few more adrenaline rushes.
As Jean and Scott settled into a little table in a corner, sipping hot chocolate and chatting amicably, three older girls, about seventeen, walked over and cast their shadows over the two. Both the teens turned to look at the strangers as the apparent leader of the group, a gorgeous dark-haired brunette, cleared her throat to speak.
"Nice 'board," she practically purred, examining Scott with deep blue-green eyes. Jean decided right off the bat that she and this woman were not going to get along. "Where'd you get it?"
Scott shrugged, taking a sip out of his mug. He noticed the slight flush in her cheeks, the way she looked at him, and the knowing smiles on her friends' faces. The stranger was trying to flirt with him.
"Don't know. It was a gift," he answered, in a tone Jean recognized as a leave-me-alone-now-because-you-are-really-annoying-me tone.
The woman didn't get the hint. "We saw you on the half-pipe earlier today. Where'd you learn to board like that?"
"Around," he responded vaguely. Scott had also seen them earlier, and concluded that these girls were, indeed, professionals. The boy also didn't miss the fact that she was now staring very approvingly at his X-men uniform and leather jacket. Jean didn't miss it either, for that matter - with his goggles hanging loosely around his neck, his brown hair spilling adorably off his forehead and signature ruby-quartz glasses shining in the dim light, it was hard not to notice a guy like Scott.
"How bout we go out a little later and run some of the hills together?" she suggested seductively. She absently twirled a lock of reddish-brown hair around an index finger.
Jean's breath caught in her throat. If Scott were to go snowboard with these people, there was no way that the redhead would be able to keep up. She would once again be alone; but she's been there and done that. So why was she so upset this time? Hiding her disappointment as best as she could, Jean quickly finished what she was eating and got up to leave. Her best friend watched her with concern through a wall of ruby-quartz, catching her wrist as the telepath was about to walk off.
"Thanks," he told the strangers, "But we had other plans." Picking up his board and swinging an arm around Jean's shoulder companionably, the two teens strode away from the three women, leaving their mouths hanging open.
As they made their way outside, Jean rested her head dreamily on Scott's shoulder, thinking that, as far as best friends go, she could certainly do worse.