Author's note: I normally have little stars between sections; for some reason, they haven't displayed properly in the last two chapters. I'll work on it.

Standard disclaimer: I don't own them; I'm just borrowing them for our entertainment.

Scylla and Charybdis

Part 3 - Freshman Year: Becalmed

Settling back in at the Institute took a little time. For a start, there were more teenagers in residence. There were now six, aged 14 to 18. Plus Ororo, and occasionally Warren and Hank. The new students were beginning to have to double up. So far, Scott, Ororo, Warren, Hank and Jean kept their own rooms, but Scott didn't doubt the day would come that the Professor would ask to the alumni to start sharing.

Jean was mostly absent, but that wasn't entirely due to their breakup. Now in her second year of residency, she didn't get a summer vacation to speak of. Her short breaks were spent with her family, and no more than a day in Salem. So Scott forced himself to be content with emailed conversations and the occasional visit. When she did come, she looked so exhausted he easily fell back into his old habit of giving her back massages, which she gratefully accepted. Scott wondered if she was pushing herself too hard and said so.

"Gee, I think we've had this conversation before," Jean said as Scott kneaded her neck.

"You know what I mean," he replied. "You need a break. Somehow, I don't think visiting your family gives you one."

Jean stiffened beneath his hands and Scott immediately regretted his words. He had met Jean's family on a couple of occasions over the years. He like her father, but he felt Jean's mother was too overprotective and too inclined to try to run her daughter's life. And Jean's sister Sara didn't help matters much. Three years older than Jean, she had lived the charmed life, popular in school, intelligent, vivacious, everything Jean would have been had her life not been altered by her mutation. Sara had married well and had two adorable twin children, a boy and girl. The twins at least, Scott thought, offered Jean unconditional love and approval. Jean's family accepted her mutation, but it was a grudging acceptance.

"I'm sorry," he said now. "That was uncalled for."

"They love me," Jean said softly. "It's just so hard at the hospital and they don't understand why. I have to keep my shields up all the time. I'm so afraid that one day I'm going to slip ..."

"That's not going to happen," Scott assured her.

Jean closed her eyes and said nothing. She had had so many close calls at the hospital already. She was grateful for these few hours at the Institute, where she could let her guard down and rest.

And speaking of resting, this was getting just a little too comfortable. Jean didn't want Scott to think she had changed her mind.

"Thanks," she said gently, pulling away slightly. "That always helps."

Scott stopped without a moment's hesitation. "Do you have to drive back tonight?"

"I'd better," Jean said. "I've got rounds at 6:30 in the morning. I'd have to get up at 4:00am to make it. I'd better go."

"Look after yourself," Scott called after her.

Scott was one of the few people who truly cared about her, Jean thought as she got in her car that evening to leave. Even after she broke his heart.

And her own.

Professor Xavier took Scott, Warren, and Ororo with him Westchester Airport to check over his new purchase. Warren had finally convinced him to buy his own small plane which could be customized for his needs. The Professor was traveling more now and he admitted there were many inconveniences with chartering a plane or flying commercially when you were in a wheelchair.

The company's sales representative met them at the airport. A model plane had been flown in for the Professor's inspection. Scott was a bit bemused by this method of shopping.

Surprisingly, Scott took a strong interest in the plane. He, Warren and Ororo checked out the interior of the plane while the sales representative went over interior colors and technical specifications with the Professor.

Scott found himself staring at the instrument panel on the flight deck. Warren watched him, smiling.

"Ever thought of learning to fly, Slim?"

Scott shook his head. "Not really. I haven't been in a plane since the Professor brought me here."

Warren regarded him thoughtfully. "Did it bother you?" He knew about the plane crash, of course.

Scott had to think about that for a moment. In fact, he realized, once he got used to the concept of being in a plane again, he wasn't bothered at all. "No," Scott admitted. "I was -- fine."

"Why don't you ask the Professor to take some lessons? You might find you enjoy it. I do." Warren wasn't speaking of his mutation; he had a pilot's license and his own small plane and loved using it every chance he got.

"If he gets to learn, so do I," Ororo stated resolutely.

"Why don't both of you to learn," Warren suggested. "Somebody's got to fly the thing. He could always hire a pilot as needed, but I think he's going to wind up using this for more than just conferences."

They didn't say anything, but all three knew what Warren was referring to. In spite of the fact they were all in separate colleges, they had not forgotten their joint realization that the day would soon come where mutants would have to protect humans from other mutants. They continued training as much as they could, both together at the Institute and separately. Warren still made cracks about a "mutant SWAT team," but deep down, he took it as seriously as any of them.

Scott and Ororo quickly approached Professor Xavier regarding lessons and he readily agreed. As Warren said, it would be far more convenient to have someone he trusted at the controls. Also, he knew as they did, the plane would be a handy way to pick up new mutants as they were discovered.

Flying lessons were wonderful, Scott decided. He and Ororo took lessons together through the summer. Both had a natural aptitude for it, but in different ways. Ororo understood the winds and the air currents; she knew how to guide the plane through elements that were very real to her. Scott loved the mechanics of the plane. He had a comprehension of the machine that was almost uncanny. He often wondered if such things were genetic. After all, his father had been a pilot. More than that, he had been a test pilot. They were the creme de la creme of the Air Force. It pleased Scott to think he might take after him.

By the end of the summer, they had picked up another mutant child and both Scott and Ororo had their pilot's licenses. They agreed to continue with lessons to be rated for instruments and bigger planes. Professor Xavier was pleased. Everything was continuing to work out very well indeed.