Near-scalding water pounded stiff muscles as Scott rotated his shoulders and did his best to stretch in the small confines of his hospital room's shower. Turning, he rested one hand next to the shower head and leaned heavily on it. His other hand rubbed his face and jaw as water poured into his swollen eyes. He'd spent the remainder of the night after waking from his nightmare mentally "calling" for Emma, but he'd had no response.
It didn't make sense. If she could reach him in his sleep, she should have been able to contact him or locate him while he was awake, especially with him "yelling" as hard as he could with his mind. Xavier and Jean would have been howling for relief if he'd called them as hard as he'd been doing last night. After concentrating so hard for so many hours, Scott was absolutely exhausted.
Today wasn't the day to be lethargic, though. Today was going to take all of the mental faculties Scott could muster. Today, all of his preparations would pay off.
With a metallic clank, Scott shut off the water flow. He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing back bangs too long neglected, and reached for his towel. A long sigh escaped his lips as he shoved the soft fabric into his eyes. After drying, he wrapped the towel around his waist and wiped the condensation from the small mirror. The image staring back at him was as foreign as it was the first time since he'd awoken in this hospital. Brown eyes were framed by the beginnings of crow's feet and wrinkles caused by too many days spent in the sun. His cheeks were still slightly sunken, though he'd gained a considerable amount of mass since first awakening. Still, there was no denying that it was his face. Of that much, he was certain.
He shaved carefully and mused for not-the-first time how much easier it was to shave without wearing sunglasses. Several scars marked mistakes made by others while they were shaving him. They made him wonder how long he actually had been asleep.
Finally, he was ready to get dressed. He opened the drawer under the sink that was supposed to have held the clothes Julia had brought for him. He slid on a pair of plaid boxers and threw on a navy blue t-shirt. Grabbing the last article of clothes, Scott shook his head. Grey sweatpants. I'm definitely going to have to find new clothes, he thought as he pulled them on.
Giving his hair a final thrashing with his towel, he stepped out into his room. As the steam poured into the chilly room, the door opened from the corridor. Julia stepped in with an absolutely monumental smile on her face.
Scott couldn't help but smile in turn. His eyes traced his "wife" up and down. She wore khaki colored dress pants and a tight-fitting red sweater over a white button-up shirt. The large collar of the shirt framed her face, obviously made up with great care, and hair curled and voluminous.
"Wow," Scott said genuinely. "You look amazing."
Julia's smile got brighter. "Thanks," she said. "I couldn't tell you the last time I've worn anything more than foundation and lipstick. I feel like a hooker."
They both laughed. Internally, Scott reminded himself what the day held and the light emotions inside him disappeared, replaced with cold determination. "I hope you brought socks and shoes," Scott said. "I didn't see any in the drawer."
Taking the canvas bag from her shoulder, Julia walked over to Scott. She held it open. The smile didn't leave her face and, as Scott started removing the coat, socks, and shoes she'd brought for him, he felt her fingers running through his damp hair. They traced down the side of his face and rested on his chin, which she gave a slight squeeze.
Scott looked into her eyes. They were teary and filled with emotion. Scott forced his heart into lead, as he'd done so many times before. With a small tug, she lowered his face to hers. Her lips met his, and Scott watched her as she kissed him.
Her hand dropped to his chest, and she patted it softly. "You look amazing," she said. "Not me." She raised her eyes to his again, and a tear fell down her cheek. "I can't believe you're coming home with me, that you're standing on your own. That we're going to be together again." She shook her head and laughed. "I just can't believe it's real!" she exclaimed.
Scott, trying to hide the stiffness in his jaw, smiled. "Me neither," he said.
He finished dressing and the two of them gathered the pictures, cards, and the few belongings they had between them in the hospital room. "Did you bring my wallet like I asked?" Scott said.
"It should be in your jacket pocket," she said.
Scott slid his hand into the pocket and felt the leather. He pulled it out and flipped it open. He ignored the picture of Julia and Rachel and nodded when he saw a couple credit cards and a little cash. With a quick glance behind the picture, he saw his driver's license. He pulled it out, and couldn't help but laugh out loud. In the picture, he was easily fifty pounds heavier than he'd ever been in his entire life.
"It's a big difference, isn't it?" Julia said, turning her head to see the picture. She laughed, too, and Scott couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed, even if the image was a fake. "Well, we've all dropped a few pounds," she said, slapping her own rear-end. "I guess I'd better get started on the paperwork to get you out of here. I'll be right back."
Julia turned and exited to the hallway, and Scott quickly shoved the cash, credit cards, and license into his jacket pocket, and took the wallet into the bathroom and sat it on the edge of the sink. He collected his toothbrush, razor, and other toiletries and closed the door to the bathroom behind him. Dropping the last of his things into the bag, Scott sat down on the bed to collect his thoughts and conserve his strength. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
It's not real, he told himself. She's the enemy. It has to be done.
In the bag next to him, a picture of Julia and himself, hugging, sitting on beach towels with the ocean behind them. They were both definitely heavier, and there was real happiness in both of their faces.
It's not real, he repeated over and over, waiting for Julia to return, but his eyes never left the picture.
Finally, she came back into the room trailed by nurses and doctors. One of the women was carrying a large bouquet of flowers. She approached Scott, shook his hand, and handed him the flowers. "It's been quite a while, Mr. Summers," she said. When she spoke, Scott remembered the voice immediately.
"Dr. Langley," he said.
It was the first time Scott had seen the woman. Sadly, she wasn't quite as attractive as her voice led him to believe. Her hair was decidedly out of fashion, and it was saying something that Scott would even notice. Dr. Langley was obviously shocked Scott had remembered. "I'm impressed!" she said. "Well, I just wanted to congratulate you for your recovery." Her eyes narrowed. "The hospital felt that a psych evaluation wasn't even necessary, you've had such a turnaround. It's very impressive, indeed."
Scott got the feeling Dr. Langley wasn't completely convinced. Scott smirked. I guess she's as astute as I'd guessed.
She handed him a card. "I want you to keep me in mind, in case you have any troubles dealing with… the way things are."
Now Scott's eyes narrowed. What did she mean by that? he asked himself.
She continued, "I help out here at the hospital, but I have an office of my own." She pointed to the card. "My number is there. Call me anytime."
Scott continued to look at the woman carefully, in the eyes, trying to decide if she knew something or if she was trying to tell him something. Is it her?
"We'll keep you in mind," Julia interrupted.
Snapped from his musings, Scott stuffed the card into the front pocket on his jacket. He smiled politely. "Thank you, Dr. Langley, and thank you all for taking such good care of me. I certainly won't forget your hand in my 'recovery.'"
At long last, the doctors gave them the "okay" to leave. They loaded Scott onto a wheelchair and Julia checked the bags one last time.
"Did you get everything out of the bathroom?" she asked.
"Yeah, I did," Scott said, trying hard to keep his voice even. Julia paused near the door, obviously struggling whether or not to check the room anyway. Scott swallowed. "I cleaned it out while you were signing the papers," he explained.
"Oh, okay," she said.
Taking a silent breath, Scott tried his best not to smile excitedly as he was being wheeled to the elevator, though the thought occurred to him that anybody in his position would have been excited. As the elevator door opened on the ground floor, Scott's heart started pumping feverishly. The moment of truth was coming.
"You didn't bring Rachel, did you?" Scott asked Julia, turning his head slightly to look at her as she pushed him towards the glass doors.
"No, you said you wanted to be alone, didn't you?"
"That's right, I did."
The electric doors slid open and Julia turned Scott towards a silver, older model Toyota Camry. Inside, Scott's heart skipped a beat. He knew he didn't want to go where Julia was going to take him if he got in that car with her. NOW! he told himself.
"Oh my word!" Scott said, suddenly feeling his jacket pockets.
"What?" Julia said, obviously shocked by the outburst. "What's wrong?"
"I think I left my wallet in the room," he said.
"I looked all over before we left," Julia said. "I didn't see it lying anywhere."
"Well I don't have it. I must have left it."
Scott heard the shuffling of Julia's feet. "Goodness," she mumbled. She was decidedly perturbed, but she didn't want to show it. "Alright," she said. "Okay, I'll run up to the room and get it. I hope I get there before somebody else sees it. You just wait here."
"Can I have the keys?" Scott said. "So I can get in the car and get it warmed up?"
It was a big risk. It seemed unlikely that Julia would give him the keys, but if she wanted to keep up her façade until the last moment, then this would be the final test.
"Sure," she said. She reached into her purse and dropped the keys over Scott's shoulder into his lap. "Just don't leave without me," she said, laughing.
The electronic doors opened and closed. Scott stood and looked through the glass and saw Julia walking quickly towards the elevator. With a swift kick, he sent the wheelchair rolling backwards, into the shrubbery near the door, and he rushed to the driver's side of the car. He looked around, hoping nobody was paying attention, turned the key, and sat down behind the steering wheel.
The silence inside was almost deafening, and Scott's heart pounded in his ears and chest. He shot one last glance at the glass doors, turned the key in the ignition, and sped out of the driveway of the hospital.