NOTE: This is the main part of the story. I didn't use present tense here because this part is mainly a conversation between Scott and Kurt. I generally tend to use that format only when dealing directly with Phoenix as a sort of reflection of her powers. Somehow, it seems awkward with everyone else and I've found that people get annoyed or confused when it's overdone. So, the prologue and epilogue are in present tense and this main section here isn't.

Sorry, this isn't a Jean/Logan fic, but I hope you like it just the same. This sequel was inspired by ideas and suggestions people sent to me after I wrote The Melody of the Stars and X-Men #109, which I quote from in the story. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

And now, without any further ado, here's part two of Haunted Recollections!

"Hühnerbraten… Wo ist der Hühnerbraten? Ach!"

With a triumphant grin, Kurt Wagner pulled the container of leftover roast chicken from the refrigerator and carried it over to the counter. The indigo blue language teacher only needed three or four hours of sleep a night, and with his high metabolism he often required an after-midnight snack to keep him going until breakfast.

Kurt had just finished enjoying a drumstick and was contemplating a second when his pointed ears picked up the creak of a footstep in the hallway. Quickly wiping his intricately scarred hands on a napkin, the long-tailed mutant slid silently out of the room to investigate.

The lights were off and the shades drawn when Kurt poked his head into the sitting room, but his golden eyes could make out every detail. Scott was sitting in the overstuffed chair with his back to the door. From his slouching, sullen posture, Kurt could tell he most likely wouldn't appreciate any company. He was just about to turn around and leave Scott to his thoughts, when--

"Hi, Nightcrawler." (1)

Kurt blinked in surprise.

"How did you know I was here?" he asked, walking across the room until he was in Scott's line of sight.

"I spotted your shadow on the floor," Scott replied without looking up. "You're the only person at this school with a tail."

Kurt smiled, jumping up to crouch on the chair across from the X-Men's leader. "Ach. You got me. If it's not the eyes, hands, or skin, the tail is always a dead giveaway."

"Hmm."

Kurt's smile faded. It was clear Scott wasn't in a responsive mood. He was an intensely private man even at the best of times, and the two of them had never been close. Whatever was bothering him, he probably didn't want to share it with Kurt Wagner.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said after a long moment of uncomfortable silence. "If I'm intruding I'll go…"

"No," Scott said, rather too quickly. Then he sighed. "You don't have to go, Nightcrawler. If anything, it's me…" He shook his head and started to rise. "I should be getting back to bed. It's too late to be up."

"Scott, wait," Kurt said, holding out a staying hand. Scott paused. "Bitte, mein Freund, it is clear to me that something is bothering you. Perhaps it would help to talk…?"

Scott tightened his lips, but sat back down. "Look, Nightcrawler," he said. "I know you want to help, but this isn't one of your swashbuckling adventures or circus acts. Real life isn't like theater. A deep, emotional scene won't necessarily make everything better. So thanks but no thanks, OK?"

Someone else might have taken offense at having their offer trivialized like that. Someone else might have walked away and left Scott to his brooding. Kurt Wagner just raised an eyebrow, deciding instead to see Scott's attempt to push him away as a challenge. In Kurt's opinion, all this business of respecting Scott's privacy and giving him space had gone on long enough. It was past time he said the words than had been collecting in his heart since he joined the X-Men over two years before.

"First of all," he said, fixing his leader with his golden eyes, "I have a name, Scott. Kurt Wagner, remember?" (2)

Scott turned his head away with a scowl, but Kurt didn't stop there.

"You think I'm all fun-and-games, my friend? Because I play with the children and allow myself to laugh and joke and smile?" He glared. "Perhaps you're right. Aside from that incident with Stryker, I've had a pretty easy life so far, I guess--not at all like you. For example, I never had to worry about optic beams. I've only had blue skin since I was born!"

Scott frowned darkly. "You trying to be funny?"

Kurt sat back in his chair. "Merely making a point," he said. (3) "You've been miserable since I met you. You keep everyone at a distance--like the way you insist on calling me Nightcrawler. In fact, now I think about it, I don't believe you've ever called me by my real name."

Now it was Scott's turn to glare, his glasses glowing ever so slightly in the darkness. "Just what are you getting at?" he demanded.

"We are what we are, Scott. All of us. Wishing won't change a blessed thing. Nor will feeling sorry for yourself." (4)

Scott clenched his jaw, but he waited to hear what Kurt would say next.

"I learned very early on that I must either accept what I am, or go mad," Kurt continued. "And though I occasionally act a bit crazy, I am not insane. But," he said, his golden eyes eerily intense as he leaned forward, a shadow among the shadows, "if you keep tearing your guts apart every time you think the world has shafted you, my friend, you'll destroy not only yourself, but those who love you as well." (5)

Scott gave an involuntary shudder and turned away, unsettled by Kurt's penetrating words. He wouldn't have thought the strangely scarred blue man understood him so well…or his feelings about Jean's transformation. It was clear from his expression that was what he was referring to.

"You don't know what it's like," he said, struggling to clamp down on his stirring emotions before they could burst out and betray him. Despite his best efforts, though, his voice came out hoarse, sounding as though the words were being pulled from his throat against this will. "You talk about acceptance, but I can't just throw up my hands and pretend everything's OK. Because it's not! I've tried to look past the changes in her, to act like nothing's different. But I can't deny the truth any longer."

"The truth?" Kurt asked.

"Phoenix is not Jean Grey!" Scott blurted out, speaking much louder than he meant to. "She has Jean's memories, she talks with Jean's voice, but she isn't my Jean!"

Kurt nodded slowly, a barely perceptible movement in the dimness. "You're right," he said.

Scott looked up. "Huh?"

"You're right," Kurt repeated. "She has changed. And so have I. And so have you."

"It's not the same thing," Scott scowled.

"Isn't it?" Kurt asked. "I'm sure that if I were to go home to Germany tomorrow, my family there would not recognize me as the same naïve young man who left them six years ago. My experiences here have forced me to grow up a great deal. I now have a greater understanding of the world and my own responsibilities."

Scott shook his head. "It's only natural that you'd be more mature now at twenty-five than you were at nineteen. That's the whole point of growing up! That's not what I'm talking about."

"What is, then?"

Scott sighed deeply and bent forward, burying his hands in his hair. Kurt waited patiently until he was ready to speak, but his next words took him off guard--especially coming from Scott.

"Kurt," he said, "have you ever heard the song, "My Immortal" by Evanescence?"

Kurt wrinkled his forehead. "I don't know," he said. "How does it go?"

Scott sat back, humming the haunting tune quietly to himself as he tried to recall the words.

" 'I tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone,' " he sang softly, knowing Kurt's sensitive ears would pick it up, " 'but though you're still with me, I've been alone, all alone...' " (6)

He took in a shaky breath through his nose, calming himself before the tears could start as they always did when he listened to that song; the song that seemed to read his heart so well.

"That's what it's been like," he said. "For so long, I fought to convince myself that Jean was dead. She was drowned in that cursed lake and she was never coming back. Then, one day, there she was at the door. And now, even though she's with me--warm and alive and real--it isn't the same. She's Jean, but at the same time she's not Jean. And I don't know what to do. I don't know how to feel! Sometimes…sometimes I almost wish she'd never come back at all."

Even as he said the words, he wanted to bite them back. He shouldn't be telling all this to Nightcrawler--Kurt--whatever. He hadn't even spoken about these feelings to the Professor, and he was like a father to both him and Jean. How could he possibly expect a relative newcomer like Nigh--Kurt to understand what he was going through when he wasn't even sure himself?

He looked over at the shadowy outline that was Kurt, seeing the compassion glowing in his strange, golden eyes, and it made him wish he'd kept his mouth shut even more. Especially when Kurt asked his next question.

"How did you two first meet?"

"It was a long time ago," Scott hedged bluntly.

"I gathered that," Kurt acknowledged. "It was shortly after you first came to the mansion, was it not? When you were a child?"

"Teenager," Scott corrected. "Yeah. Man, we were so messed up. I'd been living on the streets and she…" He shook his head, catching himself before his tongue slipped even further. "Never mind."

Kurt lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said. "If this is difficult for you--"

"It's not difficult, OK," Scott snapped. "It's just…I don't know why I'm even telling you all this. I mean, no offense, but I barely know you."

Kurt raised an eyebrow, his tail beating against the back of his chair as he fought to reign in his annoyance. "We have been living in the same house for two years now," he pointed out. "And we are likely to continue under the same roof for many years to come. Yet you still view me as an outsider. A stranger. And you refuse to trust me as a friend."

Scott straightened in his chair. "Don't give me that," he snapped. "I've gone out of my way to make you feel welcome here."

"But you still have not accepted me as you have Doktor McCoy, for example."

"That's different," Scott protested. "He was part of the original team before he went away to school. We grew up together--"

"Exactly." Kurt nodded. "His return to the mansion was a return to familiarity for you. It was his absence that was wrong."

"That's ridiculous," Scott frowned.

Kurt sighed, his expression sad. "I used to think that you kept your distance from me because you resented me. I joined the team so shortly after Jean's loss, after all. I was afraid you viewed me as an unworthy replacement. But now I realize, it wasn't me you resented. It was the change itself."

"What exactly are you trying to say, Kurt?"

"That perhaps it is not Phoenix you should be blaming for your loneliness, Scott. Perhaps the problem rests with you."

"With me?" Scott repeated incredulously. Kurt nodded.

"Jean still loves you, Scott. But because she did not return exactly as you remembered her, you are finding that you cannot return her feelings. Instead, you've built a wall around your heart, a wall not even Doktor Grey can break through."

Scott furrowed his brow. "You've talked with her," he realized, starting to get angry.

"Many times," Kurt said calmly. "She's worried about you, Scott. So is everyone else who knew you before Alkali Lake. They remember a Scott Summers who knew how to smile; a young man with a wise mouth who loved fast cars and dangerous motorcycles and would go out dancing all night before an exam. Logan and I have never met that man. And unless you learn to stop longing for the past and accept the present, my friend, I'm afraid we never will."

Scott flared his nostrils, fighting to keep a check on his swelling anger.

"You still don't get it, do you," he frowned. "You've had a few heart-to-hearts with Phoenix, so you think you know me. But you don't. And neither does she if she thinks I don't live in the present."

"Then what's wrong? Why can't you learn to accept that Jean and Phoenix are one and the same and that she loves you?"

"Because--" Scott started strong, then he seemed to crumple in on himself, averting his eyes from Kurt's as if ashamed of what he had to say. "Because," he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, "because she doesn't need me anymore."

Kurt narrowed his eyes, confused. "What makes you think that?" he asked.

"She has Phoenix now!" Scott snapped. "She doesn't need me."

He sighed deeply, his eyes fierce behind his ruby-quartz glasses as he went on, unable to stop now that he'd begun.

"Jean…" he said, "Jean was never very sure of herself. Not like Phoenix. You don't know this, but when she first came here it was as a patient, not a student. When she was ten years old, her best friend Annie Richardson was hit by a car. Jean ran to her and well, the shock must have somehow awakened her latent telepathy. She 'felt' her friend die as she held her in her arms."

"Mein Gott," Kurt breathed, his eyes deep with horrified sympathy. "That must have been terribly traumatic for such a young child."

"Yeah," Scott nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, it was. Jean couldn't control her telepathy after that. In order to keep the voices she heard from overwhelming her mind, she tried to isolate herself from everyone. She withdrew into her room and refused to come out. After a year of visits from psychiatrists who could only scratch their heads and suggest it was some kind of childhood schizophrenia, her parents finally contacted Professor Xavier. He recognized the problem at once and set up a series of mental shields that effectively left her unable to access her telepathic abilities. He taught her how to control her telekinesis, though, and after a few years he talked her parents into letting her attend his new school.

"Back then, there were only five of us here. I was the first, then there was Warren Worthington, Hank McCoy, Ororo, and finally Jean. She was 'the new girl,' you know? And she was so shy. Warren and Hank were too concerned with themselves to take much notice of her, and Ororo had her own problems learning English and controlling her powers. That left me, as the leader, to make her feel like she was part of the team."

"That must have been hard for you," Kurt commented.

"Maybe at first," Scott admitted. "But not after I got to know her. I was the one who helped her find her confidence. I helped her deal with the nightmares she got after the Professor removed her shields. I saw a strength in her she could never seem to see in herself, and she in turn taught me how to let down my guard enough to relax--something I could never afford to do before."

"Because of your powers?" Kurt hazarded. Scott nodded.

"When my optic beams first manifested, it was explosive to say the least," he said. "I actually took out a crane. It had been carrying this huge metal bar across a city construction site, and when I blew it up, the bar started to fall. I managed to destroy it before it hit anyone, but the crowd thought I'd been trying to kill them."

"Ah yes," Kurt nodded. "Angry mobs I can understand. How did you escape?"

Scott actually smiled at Kurt's interest. "I caught a freight train to another city, where I was taken in by a thief by the name of Jack O'Diamonds. I made my living on the streets for some time after that, until the Professor finally tracked me down--with the help of the F.B.I. of all people! And that's how I became the first of Xavier's X-Men." (7)

Kurt grinned, clearly impressed. "That is an amazing story, mein Freund. But it must have been very difficult, learning to live with such a dangerous power."

Scott snorted. "I'm afraid that's an understatement," he said. "I blew out the Danger Room wall several times before the Professor was able to develop my visor. Until he did, I had to practice very strict control. I didn't want to risk hurting anyone--or anything. An orphaned street-rat like me couldn't afford to upset the smart rich guy who fed him, you know?"

Kurt chuckled. "Ja. You know, we actually have a lot in common don't we. We're both orphans, we're both mutants, we both know what it's like to be chased by a raging mob…"

"And we are both X-Men," Scott added, holding out his fist. Kurt blinked, then beamed as he raised his own three-fingered fist to meet Scott's.

"You got that right, mein Kapitän," he grinned, leaning back in his chair. "So, tell me. How did Jean manage to break through your strictly controlled exterior to find the motorcycle enthusiast within?"

Scott shrugged, starting to get uncomfortable again. "She needed me," he said, as if it were the simplest explanation in the world. "She trusted me. No one had ever relied on me like that before. No one had ever cared about me the way she did. She made me feel like I could be the leader everyone expected me to be. And as I helped her become more confident of her abilities, she helped me become more confident of mine. It's like that song again… 'You cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears. You'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears. I held your hand for all of these years…' " (8)

" 'But you still left on me,' " Kurt finished softly. "Ja, I do remember that song now."

"And she did leave, didn't she," Scott frowned. "And now…" He trailed off, his glasses glowing as he turned his head to face the far wall.

"She still needs you, you know," Kurt said, his tail swaying slowly behind him. But Scott didn't respond.

"I watched her tonight," he spoke up after a moment, his voice strangely distant. "Flying over the grounds. She was so…beautiful. So free. With power like that, there's nothing to be scared of anymore. Nothing can hurt her, not even the freezing vacuum of space. She's just staying with me out of pity now. Out of a memory of love from another lifetime. All that's left of our life together is a collection of haunted recollections, as dusty as the medical journals she hasn't touched since her return."

"You're wrong, Scott," Kurt broke in, his eyes bright. "Jean is afraid. But she doesn't want you to see."

Scott frowned, his brow furrowing above his glasses. "What do you mean?"

"She wants to be the woman you remember," Kurt told him. "It's tearing her up inside to know how much her transformation has hurt you. So she tries to pretend she has everything under control, to pretend the Phoenix Force is just another power, like telepathy or telekinesis. But it isn't. Jean and Phoenix share a precarious balance. So far, Jean has managed to retain dominance. But she is terrified of what might happen if her personality proves too weak to keep the Phoenix's powers in check. And she's even more afraid that her inner struggle will cause her to lose you."

Scott gaped, not sure whether to feel outraged or concerned or angry. He settled for confused and defensive.

"What!" he exclaimed. "But that's ridiculous! Is this the kind of nonsense you guys talk about when I'm not around?"

Kurt shrugged. "Pretty much, ja. But it isn't nonsense, Scott. Lots of times, the more powerful you are, the more you need a hand to hold. The potential of Jean's new powers frighten her deeply, and she needs you to tell her she'll make it through all right."

"Why me?" Scott asked stubbornly. "If you two are such great friends, why don't you tell her?"

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Kurt frowned disapprovingly. "Jean doesn't deserve your resentment. She bonded with the Phoenix Force in a desperate attempt to save all of our lives."

"No," Scott shook his head, his tone bitter. "She'd been in communication with that thing for weeks before the dam burst at Alkali Lake. But she didn't mention it to me even once. She was too busy flirting with Logan."

"That is something you will have to discuss with her," Kurt said. "All I know is that Jean may have been attracted to Logan, but she is in love with you."

Scott sighed, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I know," he said, suddenly sounding very tired. "I'm sorry. I'm just…"

"Angry?" Kurt suggested. Scott looked up.

"Yeah!"

"Then why don't you tell her so? Why keep everything locked away inside?"

Scott shook his head. "I can't just…" He took a deep breath, then let it out. "I have to set an example. For the students, for the team…"

"Some example," Kurt snorted. "Why don't you just have it out with her once and for all? Tell her how furious you are. Tell her how much she hurt you. She's a telepath, Scott. She'll understand."

"But I can't…I don't--" Scott sighed, frustrated. "What if she doesn't, Kurt? What if I end up chasing her away? If she left me again, I don't think I could stand it."

"But don't you see, Scott," Kurt said, "it's your silence that's pushing her away. She could understand your anger. But the truth is with all the tension that's built up between you over these past few months, she's just as scared and confused as you are."

Scott groaned, tearing his fingers through his hair as the truth of Kurt's words began to penetrate. After a moment, he looked up.

"Look, Kurt," he said, "what do you suggest? How do I fix this mess my stubbornness has gotten us into?"

Kurt smiled. "You really want to know?"

"Yeah," Scott said. "I really want to know."

"Talk to her."

"And if it turns out things really can't go back to the way they were?"

"Scott," Kurt said seriously, "if you really want her to stay with you, you're going to have to stop thinking like that right now. Accept her for who and what she is, not what you want her to be. That's my advice, mein Freund. Just love her."

Scott sat back, blinking behind his glasses. Whether he'd meant them to or not, Kurt's words had sparked a memory…the memory of a song…and suddenly, everything Kurt had been telling him became clear. For the first time in months, Scott felt his heart start to lighten--and even become a little playful.

"Simply love her?" he asked, a small smile starting to creep across his face as he wondered if Kurt would pick up on the musical reference. To his satisfaction, Kurt's eyes brightened and he played along.

"Merely love her," Kurt sang the words, smiling himself as Scott joined in for the last few bars. "Love her…love her." (9) As their song trailed off, the two men began to chuckle. But the sky was brightening now beyond the shades, and Kurt found himself stifiling a yawn.

"I'd better be off to bed, mein Freund," he said apologetically. "I can still catch two hours sleep before breakfast."

Scott nodded as his friend rose to his feet. "Thanks Kurt," he said. "Talking about this did actually help."

Kurt shrugged with one of his characteristic smiles. "Is that not what teammates are for?" he asked.

"It's what friends are for," Scott said sincerely. "I really appreciate it."

"Then why are you still sitting there?" Kurt asked. "Go talk to Jean!"

"I will," Scott said. "I promise. You've just given me a lot to think about. Good night, Kurt."

"Good night, Scott. And good luck."

Scott watched as his friend strode into the hallway and disappeared in a flash of black and purple smoke. Then, he stood up and walked across the room to open the shades. Jean was still out there, welcoming the approaching dawn with her gracefully wild dance. Smiling softly to himself, Scott headed outside to join her.

References (1) - (5) are paraphrased from X-Men #109: Home Are the Heroes.

References (6) + (8) are quoted from the song "My Immortal" by Evanescence, which I only ever heard three times on the radio so I'm not sure if they're entirely right.

Reference (7) is for Jean and Scott's histories, which were compiled from a bunch of Internet research mixed with a dash of my own imagination.

Reference (9) refers to the song "How to Handle A Woman" from the Lerner and Loewe musical "Camelot."

The Epilogue is still to come! Stay Tuned!