Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment.
Scylla and Charybdis
Part 2 - Freshman Year: Off Course
Thankfully, Jean left early the next morning. Everyone in the mansion knew that they had broken up -- it was pretty obvious. Scott withdrew into himself, much like he had when he first arrived at the mansion. Ororo and Lorna were the only two that came close to succeeding in drawing him out of his misery. Professor Xavier tried to talk to him, but Scott avoided any personal conversations. While the Professor was happy that Jean had taken his advice, he wished Scott had taken the break up better. It was upsetting to see him so despondent. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Scott returned to college for the beginning of spring semester.
Back at Manhattanville, Scott threw himself into his studies. But it didn't take long for Nancy and Maggie to pick up on his new mood. Being fairly direct young women, they tackled him about it one night as they studied together.
Scott was normally extremely closed mouthed when it came to his emotions, but Nancy was relentless. Before long, he was pouring out the story to them. At the end of it, Maggie and Nancy looked thoughtful. He waited for their verdict.
"The thing is," Maggie said, "Maybe she's right."
Scott stared at her dumbfounded.
Nancy chimed in. "Scott, did you date much in high school?"
"Some," he said defensively. He was stretching the truth quite a bit. It was true that Scott always seemed part of a group in school, but the truth was, it was always groups. Ororo had included him with her friends and by his senior year he had friends of his own. But he had never had a formal date in his life.
"Ah," Maggie said. She obviously didn't believe him. "And exactly how much older is Jean?"
Scott shrugged. "A couple of years."
Maggie was persistent. "How many?"
"Seven," Scott stated resentfully.
"Good lord, she's twenty-five!" Nancy exclaimed. "No wonder she thinks you guys should cool it for a while."
"Whose side are you on, anyway?" Scott asked.
"Believe it or not, yours," Nancy stated. "You want my advice, here it is -- give her space. You don't care about the age difference, but it's easy for you. You're the guy and you're the one who's younger. Think of it from her point of view. Whether you like it or not, people ask questions about a woman of twenty-five having a relationship with an eighteen year old."
"So we break it off for a couple of years -- then what?" Scott complained. "I'm always going to be seven years younger than her."
Nancy leaned forward with a smile. "But you won't always be eighteen. The older you get, the less of a deal it is. When you're twenty-five, she'll be thirty-two and no one will care that much. But right now, they do. So give her some space and use the time to grow up a little -- so she sees the man, not the sixteen year old kid she used to know."
Scott sniffed, but said nothing. Deep down, he knew they were probably right. He had no doubt of the depth of his feeling for Jean, and while he sensed through their link that she really did love him, he was also aware of her other, less defined feelings. She had reservations -- he knew that. He also realized Jean had been taking the brunt of everyone's disapproval. No one said anything to him, but he knew her mother wasn't happy and he was pretty sure the Professor had spoken to her, and probably others.
Jean needed time. For whatever reason, she needed it. If he loved her, Scott reasoned, surely he could give her that much. If their feelings for each other couldn't survive a year or two, then it was best they find out now.
Scott made his way to the computer lab. He began his homework, but he kept thinking about how to approach Jean. He switched over to the email application and started typing.
Jean had spent an exhausting day at the hospital. She was training for Internal Medicine, but she was wondering if she could really take the telepathic pressure of patients all day long. She thought again about switching to Pediatrics -- she had enjoyed that rotation a great deal and the children's minds were a little less complicated.
Back at home, she kicked off her shoes and turned on her computer. She had just enough time to read through her email before going to bed.
She was startled to see a message from Scott waiting for her. She clicked on it.
TO: jg591columbia.edu
FROM: summerssmville.edu
Jean,
Hi! Don't worry -- this isn't a rant. I've thought about what you said a couple of weeks ago. I don't think I need a break from you, but if that's what you want, I guess I'll have to live with that. So, we'll be friends for now and see where we are later. I'd hate it if I couldn't ever talk to you again.
So, we'll start with the regular college litany. This semester, I'm taking Calculus II, Intermediate Spanish II, Physics II, English literature, and Art history. Please don't tell the Professor, but I'm never taking Physics again as long as I live. I'm okay with optics stuff, but the rest -- I can't think of anything worse, except Chemistry. And Biology. Can you tell I'm not good with sciences? Give me numbers and geometry any day.
I don't have to declare a major yet, but I'm thinking about math (no surprises there :-)). The minor is going to be more difficult. We're required to have one. I've thought about English or Spanish -- my advisor's pushing me to think about Education and consider teaching as a career. I don't know about that, though.
And I'm going to take your advice and get more involved here. There's a lot of stuff to do. MC has their own radio station -- that might be fun. Who knows, I might have a profession as a disc jockey. Beats driving a cab.
Well, Physics homework is beckoning (did I mention how much I hate Physics?)
Later,
Scott--
Jean smiled as she read the message. She missed him already, but at least they could stay friends. She quickly typed out a response and went to bed, feeling that at least some of the load on her heart had been lifted.
Days later, Scott returned to the dorm after dinner. He had exchanged two emails with Jean, and worked hard to keep the tone no more than friendly. He missed her terribly.
He got to his room and sat on the bed. The migraine hit him without warning and with an intensity that took his breath away. With painful effort, he found his cell phone and hit speed dial.
"Hello?" Hank McCoy answered.
By this time, Scott could barely speak. "Hank ... I can't .... help ...." He dropped the phone.
Hank stared at his phone for a minute before grabbing his coat and car keys. He took the stairs down to the garage two at a time.
Hank made it from Manhattan to the college in record time and parked in the visitor's lot, racing to the dorms. Fortunately, someone had propped the main door open and Hank went straight to Scott's room. He knocked on the door.
"Scott?" He called quietly. He tried the door and it was unlocked. Hank entered the room and saw him lying on his bed, barely conscious. He found the desk light and turned it on, carefully shining the light away from Scott. Scott shuddered slightly.
"It's going to be all right, Scott," Hank assured him in a whisper as opened his medical bag and prepared a hypodermic. He was too far gone for anything but morphine to work. He rolled up the sleeve to Scott's sweater and gave him the injection.
"Who are you?"
Hank jumped slightly at the voice. He turned to see a tall, dark haired young woman standing in the doorway.
"I'm Dr. Henry McCoy, I'm Scott's physician," Hank said. It wasn't really a lie -- for the past two years, Hank had been Scott's medical doctor. "And you are?"
"My name is Maggie, I'm a friend of Scott's. What's wrong with him?"
"He suffers from chronic migraines," Hank explained. There was really no harm in the girl knowing. "The glasses assist with his condition, but they are not always effective."
"Is there anything I can do?" Maggie asked.
"Would you mind taking that wash cloth and making a cold compress?" Hank replied. "It would probably help."
Maggie soon returned with the compress. "Is he going to be all right?" she asked.
"Oh yes," Hank answered. "Sadly, this isn't an unusual circumstance." And one I've been expecting, he thought to himself.
"Do you need someone to stay with him?" asked Maggie.
"Thank you, but I'll be remaining with him for the night. I had to give him a very strong analgesic," Hank replied.
He saw her glance swiftly over to the desk. The vial was clearly labeled "morphine."
"Scott is a very private person," Hank said suddenly. "He wouldn't like the severity of his condition known."
Surprisingly, Maggie smiled. "Don't worry, Dr. McCoy. I know how to keep a secret."
Towards dawn, Scott woke. Instinctively, he checked to see if his eyes were covered. He was still wearing the glasses, which was both a good and bad sign. He opened his eyes experimentally. He had been covered with a blanket and a compress lay on the night stand. His probable nurse sat dozing in the chair nearby.
"Hank?" Scott called softly. Hank woke in a second.
"Ah, you're awake. No ill affects, I trust," Hank said with a smile.
"No," Scott began but he was interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Hank went to answer it. Scott recognized the voice. It was Nancy.
"Would you like some coffee, Dr. McCoy? We have tea, if you prefer?"
"Thank you, no. I have to get back to the city," Hank replied.
"How is he?" Nancy asked.
Hank turned to look at Scott, who nodded his assent.
"You can come in and ask him yourself," Hank said as he stepped aside to let her in.
Nancy smiled as she saw Scott. "Hi," she said quietly. "How are you feeling?"
"Peachy," Scott said. Heavens, his voice sounded like sandpaper. He swallowed and tried again. "I'll be fine." That was a little better.
"Would you like something to eat? We've got some instant oatmeal in the room," she offered.
Hank smiled and picked up his bag. "That sounds like an excellent suggestion, Scott. Food would be a very good idea, but keep it to easily digestible fare. As it appears that you're in exceptional hands with this young lady, I'll be leaving now. Please remember to call later; I want to be kept informed of your progress today."
"I will," Scott assured him. "And Hank -- "
"Yes?"
"Thanks for coming."
Hank smiled. "Any time, Scott. It was very nice meeting you," Hank said to Nancy as he left.
Scott tried to sit up and immediately regretted it.
"Whoa, I wouldn't push your luck," Maggie breezed in with a coffee mug. "You can have that, if you're allowed."
"I'm allowed," Scott said gratefully. He was a little surprised to see Maggie. He didn't think she cared that much. He had no recollection that it had been Maggie who had come to his room when Hank first arrived, making cold compresses and periodically checking on him.
Scott felt better as he sipped on the coffee and he must have started to look it too. Nancy curled up in the wooden armchair while Maggie took the one by the desk.
"What's your normal drill now?" Maggie asked. "Do you have to stay in bed for the rest of the day?"
"It depends how I feel," he replied. "Usually I can get up, provided I take things slowly ..."
"Morphine's pretty strong," Maggie agreed.
Scott stared at her, aghast. He hated having to take strong drugs for the migraines, but he hated morphine the most. He hated the idea that anyone else knew. He felt it was a weakness, a shameful weakness.
"Don't worry," Nancy added. "Maggie and I are the only ones that know and we're not going to tell anyone. So how about I go get that oatmeal, and we all have breakfast in here?"
He nodded and found himself having an early breakfast with his two friends.
Scott spent the rest of the day moving slowly. He got himself showered and dressed and only skipped his earliest class. Nancy was in that class and she promised him notes. He made it through the rest of the day, with only mild waves of dizziness as the morphine left his system.
That night, the three of them studied together in Nancy's and Maggie's room. True to her word, Nancy had taken excellent notes for Scott to copy.
He felt like he had to say something about the morning.
"I don't have to take them often, you know," Scott said suddenly. "The painkillers. I only get migraines like that two or three times a year. I can sometimes ward them off with no more than aspirin.
Maggie regarded him with unexpected humor. "It really bothers you, doesn't it? That we know something about you that you'd rather keep secret?"
"It's not that ...," he lied.
"Yes, it is. Okay, if you're uncomfortable with us knowing about your condition, we'll let you know a secret." She nodded to Nancy. They had obviously talked about it earlier. "So we'll be even."
"And what would that be?" he asked flippantly.
"We're gay."
Behind his glasses, Scott blinked. He was both surprised -- and not. Several little things he had rarely paid attention to, now came together and made startling sense.
"No one else here knows," Nancy said. "Are you shocked?"
"No," He replied. He wasn't really.
"I don't think much shocks Scott," Maggie stated decisively.
He looked at her carefully. Maggie had a reputation of being cold and aloof in the dorm. To a degree, Scott had shared that opinion. Nancy was always the more outgoing of the two. He realized now that Maggie was far more observant and intuitive than most people gave her credit for.
"I've seen a lot," Scott said guardedly. He hesitated and then added. "I'm not really from Westchester; that's just where I was at school for the last two years."
"Where are you from?" Nancy asked.
"My Dad was in the Air Force," he began. He wasn't sure how much he really wanted to tell them. "I was born in Alaska, and we moved to Florida and finally Nebraska. I lived in Nebraska for almost seven years -- let's say I'm from Nebraska and leave it there."
"And the migraines? Are they like, some congenital condition?" Nancy continued her questioning.
Scott decided to tell them as much of the truth as he dared right now. "No. I was in a plane crash," he said. "My parents were killed and I was badly injured. I've had the migraines ever since." He didn't say "brain-damage." He refused to say that.
"I'm sorry," Nancy said.
He shrugged. "It was a long time ago. So, I know your secret and you know mine. Now what?"
Maggie walked over to the mini-refrigerator and pulled out three sodas. She handed one to Scott.
"To secrets?" she offered with a smile.
Scott smiled and took the bottle. "To discretion," he amended as they clinked bottles.
Hank met Jean for lunch in the cafeteria whenever her schedule allowed it, which meant they saw each other two or three times a week. Jean loved these lunches; she got a chance to reconnect with the Institute and its inhabitants through Hank. She felt so isolated these days and she hated it.
Hank filled Jean in on Scott's latest migraine bout.
"Is he okay?" she asked.
"Oh, he's fine now," Hank replied. "I made him call me that night again, just to be safe. But I think those two girls will keep an eye on him."
Jean was startled. "What girls?"
"Oh," Hank said airily, knowing full well this was news to Jean. "Just two girls that live on the hall. They seem to be close friends with Scott."
Hank watched Jean's expression with interest. He was well aware that she and Scott had broken up over the Christmas break. Alone of all their friends, Hank regretted it. He saw beyond the obvious differences between the two, and realized they were excellent for each other. But he also knew how easily Jean could be swayed by the Professor. In fact, Hank and Professor Xavier had had a bitter disagreement over the latter's tactics.
Hank knew Scott's feelings for Jean were unchanged. He was also fairly sure Jean's feelings had not altered either. Perhaps a little jealousy would be a good motivator for her.
If she was jealous, Jean didn't show it. All she said was, "I suppose they are," and changed the subject. Hank happily followed along the new topic. He had planted the seed. All that remained was to see if it grew.
As for Scott, the rest of the semester flew by. Before he knew it, he was packing up the contents of his dorm room and moving back to the Institute. His first year of college was over.