Author's Note: Thank you to CykePhoenixSummers, Wen1, Nozomi and Hotaru and Subakun-sensei for your reviews.

Disclaimer: All recognisable characters are the property of Marvel Comics and Fox Entertainment. No plagiarism is intended.

Chapter Four;

A quiet knock on the door, three taps.

"Enter."

Scott had been sitting cross-legged on the floor of his room for little over an hour now. Conflicting emotions struggled for footing in his tired mind. Part of him felt guilty. He was grateful to the Professor for taking him in off the street, returning his eyesight, countless other things…. He felt he owed him a debt he could never repay. But he couldn't stand the thought of someone being in his mind like that, not after last time….

Wait. What if he had ruined everything now by shutting the Professor out? He didn't think Xavier was the type, but he had been proven wrong in the past.

"The Professor wants to see you later. What was that all about?" Jean came in and sat beside him. Warren stood leaning against the door frame, shirtless, showing his wings spanning behind him.

"It's not important," Scott drew his knees up to his chest, resting his forehead against them as his arms wrapped tightly. It was easier to deal with people if you couldn't see them, present as little as possible of yourself as possible to target.

"I've never seen the Professor look like that. He was pissed," Warren spoke with an air of amusement. Jean shot him a look, which he answered with a raise of his eyebrow.

"Go away," Scott mumbled quietly, adding "please." One couldn't forget their manners, no matter what they were feeling. Scott needed some more time by himself to crush the feelings inside him, returning to the familiar numbness he knew so well. Emotion bad, can and will be used to suit another's purpose. Did someone tell me that? Or did I make it up? It's not important.

Warren pushed himself off the door frame and left, Jean staying a moment longer, before she too got up. Just before she left the room she paused, eyes half-lidded.

"The Professor wants to see you, now." With that, she left.

Scott remained as he was for a further six minutes before deciding he could deal with the older man.

He had been sitting in front of the Professor for the best part of ten minutes now, and still the other man had not spoken. Scott hated to speak first, so he waited in silence.

"I do not have time to discuss this properly with you now, and I'm sure you have your reasons," despite his words, his tone had a harsh underlying emotion. "I will not contact you telepathically unless there is an emergency, sounds fair?"

"Uh, yes. Listen, Professor, I-"

"I don't want to hear it, Scott. As I said, I don't have time right now. We will delve more fully into this issue at a later date. You are dismissed."

Feeling like he had missed something yet again, Scott left and began to return to his room, before deciding to apologise first to Jean and Warren.

The following day Charles Xavier had disappeared, saying only that he was going away for 'business purposes', and leaving Hank in charge.


A few nights ago Jean had gone down stairs for a drink only to find she was not the only person awake at the ungodly hour. Scott sat at the counter nursing a glass of milk, head bent in such a way that his hair fell in front of his eyes. She found it strange when any attempts at conversation had elicited nothing more than a 'nyeh' from her late night companion. She ended up waiting for the kettle to boil in silence until he seemed to come to a little and looked up at her. He apologised, words slightly slower than usual, and explained he had very low blood pressure, and having just got up from - a brief- sleep, he was virtually incoherent and incognizant. She tried again at conversation with him, and though finding him a little confused at times, he seemed more open, probably not knowing the difference between what he spoke aloud and what was in his head. Though it only lasted as long as it took for them to finish their respective drinks, she had found more about him in those few minutes on a personal level than in the month prior. Namely, he was afraid of the dark and the sound of rain scared him to the point where he couldn't sleep. It would take a long time to find out why.

Jean again came down the stairs to find him up.

"Hey, what's on your mind?" Scott glanced up at her as she spoke.

"Hm? Not much. What are you doing up?" Jean had grown used to Scott side-stepping questions.

"Thirsty. Why are you wearing your shoes?" She was looking at his red converse and the jumper he was wearing,

"It's nice out. I like walking around at night. Used to do it when I lived in the city. Thought I might start doing it here, too."

"Mind if I join you?"

"Won't you be cold?"

"Hold on, I'll get something warmer," with that, she skipped up the stairs (yes, skipped), Scott just staring after her in amusement.

She reappeared a few minutes later wearing a woolly cardigan far too big for her, the sleeves rolled up several times and the hem down to her knees. He thought she looked adorable.

Noticing his gaze, she said by way of explanation: "This is form my grandmother. She gets confused when it comes to sizes." He merely nodded at her.

They walked around the grounds, past the arboretum, following the hedge that surrounded the maze. They were silent as they simply took in the night sounds.

"How do you do it?" His voice was soft, contemplative.

"Do what?"

"See. I-I can't stop looking, seeing things. A flicker movement, a flash of colour. It's easier when watching television because the camera focuses where you look, and never remains stationary long, and the Professor doesn't exactly over decorate the mansion. But out here…. Everything is so alive, it fluctuates, keeps changing, I can't-" His voice broke off. He stopped walking and sat down on the grass.

"You can't what, Scott?" Jean sat beside him, watching him as put his face against his knees slowly, deliberately. The precision of his movements as he folded in on himself seemed to give him comfort.

"I can't- You don't know what you and Hank have done for me, giving me back my sight. I have no way to ever truly thank you for that. I just don't remember it being this hard…." He trailed off again, not knowing how to continue. It may have been slight, but he had exposed part of himself to her with out meaning to, and he grew ashamed at his weakness, afraid. He had only been off the streets and out of the system a few weeks and already he was trying to reclaim the trusting six year old boy he had let die in flames. Having lacked a real childhood, he was subconsciously trying to get part of it back, speaking to Jean like he would have his mother before she did that to herself. He was looking for comfort and reassurance, and he hated himself for that, dark thoughts leading him to believe he was using Jean to that end. The used becomes the user.

Jean picked up on some of his thoughts, getting what she felt was the over all meaning. She knew he wasn't using her, that it was only his confused and hurt mind that had convinced him so. She placed a hand on his back, trying to overlook his flinch, as she reassured him.

"You'll get used to it again. Your mind is too aware of everything, rather than what you're really focusing on. It will take time before you can relax and see only what you were looking for."

"I wonder if that's a good or bad thing." He spoke as if to himself, and Jean chose not to comment.

Knowing it was late, and, despite the warm day, quite cold, Scott looked over at Jean, before taking both of the hands she held out to him as he helped her to her feet.

"I'm sorry. I know that's not why you came out here." His hands were deep in his pockets as they walked back to the mansion.

"Don't be. I'm honoured you shared with me."


Scott was reclining on his bed, reading a Tad Williams novel. The bedside lamp lit a small portion of the room, casting the rest in opaque shadows to Scott's occasionally wandering eyes. He had been at Xavier's for little over a month now, and he still hadn't begun to make the room his own. The book shelf had a few books he had dared to buy with Xavier's money, and Jean had insisted on bringing him shopping, dragging Warren along for the ride.

Scott heard a shuffling noise outside his bedroom door and glanced at the clock. It was a little after one in the morning. Placing his book on the bedside table, Scott slowly got up and moved to the door. The noise had stopped temporarily. Just as he turned back to bed he heard a sigh. He opened his door onto Jean's exhausted form. Before she could keel over he reached out and grabbed her arm, supporting her on the way to his bed. Sitting her down he kneeled in front of her.

"Jean, are you okay? Should I get the Professor?"

"No," her voice was shaky, unsure. Realising this, she took a deep breath to calm herself. When she spoke next, it was clearer. "No, I'm fine. Just got a little weak." Scott looked at her disbelievingly.

"Uh-huh. So collapsing outside someone's door is a regular occurrence?" He was kneeling in front of her, effectively blocking an exit. Deciding she may as well be honest - he had an uncanny ability to tell when someone was lying - she looked down at her hands.

"With my - um -with my telepathy I can't always…. Let me try again." He patiently waited for her to continue, feeling this was something she did not particularly want to share. "When my mutation first -manifested, I guess- I couldn't block anyone's thoughts. I-" She seemed about to go further when she paused, not sure if she could share what had happened to her then. She went straight to the point. "Xavier taught me to control my powers, shield other people's thoughts. But sometimes, if I go into a deep sleep, those walls he taught me to erect grow…. Less effective. It's hard to explain." Scott remained silent, understanding better than she knew. "When I dream like that my telekinesis goes into over drive, but it's still quite weak, so it wears me out. Causing my whole bedroom to shake isn't good for my system." She tried to add levity to her voice.

She jumped up from the bed suddenly, Scott rising slowly to his feet.

"What?" Scott grew perplexed at her coloured cheeks and averted gaze. Did I do something?

"Um, I just realised I'm in my pyjamas." She sounded thoroughly embarrassed as he, too, realised he was dressed in a t-shirt and shorts. A moment of shy silence passed between them as they waited for the other to speak. Naturally it was Jean.

"Well, um, sorry if I woke you."

"Uh, no I- I wasn't sleep." He indicated the book on his bed side table. "Do you think you'll be able to sleep?" Jean sighed.

"I generally have some trouble getting back to sleep on nights like these, so I normally just do puzzles or something."

"I see. I'm not tired, so do you - uh- want to play chess or some the like? Take your mind off things?"

"Normally, I'd say yes to chess. I just feel - I don't know- drained tonight." She glanced at him, small smile playing on her lips, "I mean this morning."

"Should I leave you be then?" It took him a moment to realise she was in his room. She thankfully let the comment slide.

"You said you weren't tired, right? Can we play Backgammon?"

"Sure." He watched as the board came floating into his room. He continued to kneel down by his bed as he set the game up. She had taught him how to play, it being a favourite game of hers. Jean made herself comfortable, lying down on his bed with her face near his pillow.

Before the second game was through Jean was out. She had fallen asleep in the time it took for him to take his next turn. Smiling slightly, Scott packed up the game pieces. She was lying on the duvet, so he folded half of it over her, then moved to his desk, picking up his book on the way.

When Jean woke up it was bright inside the room. She looked over to find Scott with his back to her at his desk. Hearing her wake, he came over and sat with his back against the bed, leaning his head on the quilt so that he stared at the ceiling.

"Sorry I fell asleep."

"I'm getting used to it." She swatted his head with the back of her hand.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading. Sorry I'm not much with dialogue.