A/N - Hey all - we actually managed to get some editing done quickly! oops. we have lives outside of this, what can I say? Much love right back to you, Practically An Avenger! HERE. HAVE ANOTHER!

Chapter 122 - Pure Stress

Tony stepped out of the boathouse, half holding his breath from the string of curses he'd just walked away from as Steve took over to try and help James walk … mostly because James wasn't accepting his own body's response to go a little slower as he healed nerve connections when he wanted to push. And no one wanted to argue with him when he was so … aggressive.

"Wow," Tony said, still looking toward the door. "Didn't realize you X-Men were so blue."

"Yeah, this isn't on us," Scott said. "I've never said anything that colorful around the kids."

"If I let myself speak like that, I'd be making a lot more headlines," Tony said. "That … is not like him. But points for creativity, I guess."

"It's still progress. It took him almost a week to speak reliably with little stuff. He's frustrated that he's not healing as fast as he'd like. Then he gets more mad when you tell him how well he's doing."

"Back it up. What he just called Captain America is progress?" Tony nodded to himself. "I'll change Cap's security clearances to that."

"I thought Captain America handled it well," Scott said.

"Handled what well?" Annie asked, meeting the two of them on her way down. She'd been coming to get them to let them know dinner was ready. She was stress baking again - and had been since James had been shot more than two weeks prior. To her, James was blazing through recovery. She'd seen firsthand what happened to regular folks after much smaller brain injuries than this, so she knew that James' progress was unbelievable. Even if he didn't see it that way.

"The directive and the less than patriotic name he just got called for trying to help our young friend," Tony said, then had to cover his mouth to hide the smile when James responded to Tony's commentary from the other side of the door by giving him a directive, too.

Annie smiled when she heard Steve's hearty laughter. "Have you two really never spent time with veterans?" she teased.

"Almost exclusively active duty." Tony was quick to point over his shoulder. "But, that one for sure. All the time. He won't find friends."

Annie smiled wider. "Then why are you surprised at the language? I heard worse growing up from my daddy's friends, especially once I was eighteen."

"For one, it's Captain America. For another, it's not the idea of it," Tony defended. "It's more that we've," he gestured between himself and Scott, "both tried to be careful around the kids."

"Oh, sure," Annie said. "Explains why you're so surprised, doesn't it, sweetheart?" She took Scott's arm. "I'm sure your Air Force dad was censoring around you."

Scott blinked at Annie in disbelief. "Really?"

She smiled back at him sweetly. "Really," she said, then pointed at Tony. "And besides, it's nice to hear him talking again. Even if most of it's swearing."

"I agree. I'm just … surprised to hear that Captain America swears more than a space pirate," Tony said.

Scott burst into a surprised laugh. "I didn't even think about it that way."

"Now you won't be able to not think about it," Tony said. "I know I won't."

"No kidding. That'll fester."

Annie shook her head at the both of them. "Everyone has their vices," she said. "Yours, apparently, is dawdling on the lawn when you know good and well there's not a thing you can do right now to help and there's food on the table for you gossips."

"Hey. That's my kid in there. And I'm backing up Cap," Tony defended.

"Then have fun with your vocabulary lessons," Annie said, pulling Scott along with her - and Scott was still laughing lightly and not about to argue with her.

News reports were flying in from all angles, giving all sorts of reports - Tony was handling the press' questions about James so Scott could focus on helping him recover more effectively. And across the Atlantic, Wanda had been fighting a battle of her own.

As soon as the tribunal had announced the charges they had filed against the Summers family, they'd started the process to extradite them from the United States to Genosha to stand trial. And it was one of the few places that she had little to no sway in stopping them or even slowing them down much. They were set to push…. Or they were until the news broke in Genosha about what had happened to James. It took her several days even with that in consideration to talk them down and convince them that they had to wait. Just a little bit. But … considering that all of her digging had shown that the person responsible for shooting James in the first place was a young acolyte … Scott needed to know what to watch for. If there was one, there would be more.

When Scott answered the video call, Wanda looked worn and tired despite her best efforts to the contrary. It was obvious she hadn't gotten much sleep - but she wasn't resting yet, either. "I won't take up much of your time," Wanda said. "I just wanted to let you know where we all stand. The courts are pushing to extradite - or they were. I convinced them to wait, but they won't stay back forever, and the only reason they are holding back is because it's James and he's the one they can go after for the actual murder. As soon as he's capable of standing trial, they will push - and whatever you do, don't come here for anything right now."

"I'd like to say I was surprised, but Alex already told me it was rough," Scott admitted.

"He's playing it down," Wanda said. "If there's anything you can do to help him along faster …" She sighed heavily.

"Yeah, we'd like to put this behind us, too," Scott said in a somber tone. "Whatever happens, we need to face it."

"I will do everything I can, Scott-"

"I know, Wanda. I know. You've done so much already. I'll make sure you're kept in close contact on all of his progress. We know he'll heal, we just … it's so bad, but it could be so much worse."

"I'm very glad it's not," Wanda said. "I'll see you soon, I'm sure. I want to check in with Billy and I know he's not ready to leave while James is … like he is."

Scott was not expecting to get any visitors in Westchester … outside of his brother, that just never happened. So when Toby showed up, out of the blue in a borrowed car - it was enough to take him off-guard. He only got an early warning about him because Nate saw the car come in when he was with Kate by the barn.

Toby was more than happy to check in on Scott as soon as he saw him. There was the usual greeting, the usual warm tones, and then a friendly, bracing hug. "I can't imagine what you must be going through. The neighborhood is all aflutter," Toby said. "And knowing your aversion to phones, I decided to go ahead and just come to you."

"You didn't have to go to all that trouble, Toby-"

"Actually, I did," Toby said, then gestured toward the car. "The whole neighborhood has been asking me to pass on gifts and well wishes for you and the family. Everyone has been upset that they haven't seen anyone from the family - and with all this talk of murder charges going to court… everyone is worried. So, to keep your secrecy, you're probably doing exactly what you need to. Still." He turned toward the car, leading the way for Scott. "I told them you weren't sitting shiva. Those that believed me decided it was as close to bikur cholim as you'd allow, instead." He shrugged. "You have a following."

Scott couldn't hide his smile as he followed Toby. "Somehow, I'm not surprised," he said softly. "James has that way about him." He paused. "But I wouldn't suggest a visit right now. He's not himself. Traumatic brain injury."

"From the angle they got on the news, I would have been surprised if you told me he was fine," Toby said.

"Yeah, Tony's been handling reporters for the team," Scott said. "He's a pro at telling them off without sounding angry and making them think he answered questions when he didn't."

"He is," Toby said with a smile. "Anyhow, I don't want to press, I just needed to make sure you all knew the neighborhood is in your corner. And that they know enough to go to me instead of to your house."

"Tell them I appreciate it. Really," Scott said, running a hand through his hair. "I… don't really know what to say other than that. This doesn't usually… happen…"

"All the more reason that I had to tell you." Toby smiled warmly. "Let me know if you think of anything you might need - otherwise, I think I'll recruit whoever you have peeking through windows to unload all of this." He leaned toward Scott. "I promised to bring it. From here on out, I will tell them to donate somewhere instead."

"I'm sure if you give Kitty half a minute, she'll tell you where your best bets are," Scott said, still wearing a half-disbelieving smile.

"How are you handling all of this?" Toby asked. "I'm sure the kids are …. Tense."

Scott let out a long, tired sigh. "You could say that," he agreed. "Nate's hardly away from James, even when he's not the designated lookout. You know how much he worships his big brother."

"And now he's worried about getting him back, hmm?"

Scott sighed. "Right now, James can only get around with help. Nate cheats and helps him get places, but… It's hard to watch. James isn't in control of his own body. He's relearning everything. And Nate can hear his frustration even though James can't do much more than swear and snarl. He's re-making language connections too." He gestured vaguely toward the boathouse. "He's progressing, though. He's making more progress every day, taking more steps, saying more words…" He ran a hand through his hair. "But he's beyond frustrated, and he feels trapped in his own body. He knows he knows us, but he doesn't remember everything, either. He's just…" He sighed and let the sentence hang in the air. "It's hard to see him like that."

"I can't imagine," Toby said. "You do expect him to get it back, though - right?"

"Yeah, I do," Scott said. "He's making enough progress that I think he can get it back. Wouldn't be surprised if the memories are the last to come back, though. His parents had the same problem."

Toby nodded thoughtfully. "Then I hope for your sake that the recovery is quick."

"Thanks, Toby." Scott rested a hand on his shoulder. "And, hey, while you're here, make sure to stop through the kitchen. My fiance hasn't stopped baking since this happened, and I don't think anyone can keep up with her."

"The string of broken hearts in our neighborhood just keeps getting longer when anyone hears about her."

Scott laughed. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Not disappointing me," Toby said, holding up both hands. "I'm glad to see you all happy."

"Me too," Scott said. "To hear Jan tell it, the whole wedding is already planned for us, too - they just need a date and a guest list."

"Why don't you give them what they need, Scott?" Toby laughed. "It's a simple matter. Just grab a calendar and pick an open day."

"Oh, little things keep getting in the way," Scott said dryly. But then, he broke into a smile. "Actually, Annie had an idea for an officiant. I hope you're not offended. But she and Wanda have become very good friends the last few weeks. Wanda's been hovering over James almost as much as Nate has, honestly."

"I'm not offended," Toby said. "Billy already said I get to do theirs."

"Well, there you go. Wouldn't be surprised if you got to do my other kids' too, especially the way Nate was thinking when I talked to him around the Fourth of July."

"I'd be honored for anyone who wants me to be a part of their special day, regardless of the capacity."

"Oh, good, because you're absolutely invited to mine," Scott said. "You're a good friend, Toby."

Toby reached out to pat Scott on the shoulder. "So are you. But you are definitely dealing with full hands right now. I won't keep you from your kids or your wedding planning. Just let me know when I can come see that boy of yours, hmm? I miss our chats, too."

"I'll send you a message as soon as he's back to himself," Scott promised.

"Perfect. In the meantime, how about a very abbreviated tour? You said something about baking, and I need cheerful volunteers to unload the car."

Meanwhile, in the lab, Hank was going over a whole slew of scans with his most recent colleague as Doctor Strange had finally gotten around to checking in after hearing about James' problems and taking updates from afar while he found himself overly involved in Sorcerer Supreme-level issues.

"There really isn't anything I can do," Strange told Hank, though he was studying the scans pretty thoroughly. "He's healing up faster than I've seen anyone else. Not that it's a shock, all things considered." He turned toward Hank, more interested than he wanted to be. "I suppose my telling you that simply him being here is in itself remarkable isn't enough."

"No, it's not," Hank agreed.

Strange took a few more minutes to look between the images for progress. "I wish I had better insight. This kind of healing doesn't happen. Not in a matter of months or years - it just doesn't happen. So to try to predict what is going to happen with him, or how far he can take it … I don't know. There's not enough information to make a reasonable guess. How much does that regenerative healing cover? Is it purely physical, or will it reach to personality and memory?"

Hank paused. "It's hard to estimate," he said as Strange turned toward him for elaboration. "His father had to have gone through similar trauma, but he wasn't even sure of his own name for decades."

"And you don't know if his memory issues were from a single incident, many incidents, or as a side effect of the adamantium bonding process," Strange said, his focus flitting up for a moment as Billy came a little closer. He'd gotten to the lab as soon as he'd heard that Strange was there - as a doctor, not a wizard. He was doing better after America had taken him on a two-week vacation that had only lasted a few hours of time in his home dimension, but that didn't mean he wasn't still anxious.

"We're very sure it wasn't from the adamantium, though that did deliver a blow," Hank said. "K went through the same process yet could remember most of her life before it. After, however-"

"And that could be a matter of them being rougher with him, more traumas, or simply variation between different patients," Strange finished. "Unfortunately, the best I can offer you considering the kind of mutation you're dealing with and the level of, frankly, miraculous recovery I'm seeing is to continue active surveillance and keep monitoring his progress." He looked over to Billy. "How are his communication skills coming along?"

"With a lot of four letter words, growls, and snarls," Billy said without missing a beat.

Strange hummed to himself and turned toward Hank again. "If he's having trouble with speech as well as motor functions, it would probably be wise to handle him like a stroke patient. For now, anyhow."

"That is what we've been doing, actually," Hank said. "I was hoping for something more …"

"Without knowing what areas of the brain were affected, I can't possibly tell you what long-term deficits he may be facing. But if it's a lot of swearing and growling, he may simply be taking a walk in his father's footsteps." Strange looked between Billy and Hank. "If he's awake, I'd like to see him. Might give me a better idea of what you're dealing with."

"He's … sort of crashed out," Billy said. "He got mad at Nate for coddling him and sort of blew up at him, then immediately felt awful and pushed everyone away. Nate's still with him, but …"

"Yeah, you'll have that," Strange said. "If you're lucky, it'll lighten up, but I've never seen it go away entirely."

"Maybe I could-" Billy started to say, then dropped off as he realized he was treading dangerously close to saying something he should not in front of the Sorcerer Supreme.

"You could what?" Strange asked, fully focused on Billy. "Wish it away? Don't even think about it."

"I know-"

"Good. I'm sure your mother explained to you the ramifications of playing with magic - and reality, even if your mutant ability has handed you a powerset that is insanely dangerous," Strange said, and Billy could see already he was up for getting chewed out on principle. "Do not tamper with his mind. There's no telling what might happen - and we do not need a nearly-unkillable feral with a centuries-long life expectancy dealing with the repercussions of a spell gone wrong that was aimed at his head."

"No, of course not," Billy muttered, slightly red around the edges. "I would never …"

"Which reminds me. For all the magic you've been working, it's long since overdue that you got a more focused instruction." Strange looked part irritated, part inconvenienced. "For someone as powerful as you are, you simply can't just go … hacking your way through life with just the basics under your belt."

Billy blinked, genuinely surprised. "My mom's been working with me," he said.

"Your mother has been playing soft-ball with you."

Billy narrowed his eyes, his feet slightly off the floor before he thought about it. "You know, where I come from, it's considered rude to talk down to people."

Strange raised an eyebrow at him then pointedly looked at Billy's feet. "And if it was simply a matter of manners, you wouldn't be breaking one of the basic rules over a temper tantrum."

Billy couldn't actually get back down, though. "It's a tell," he said.

"It's a temper issue," Strange said. "One that tells me that you have precious little control of yourself."

"Look, did you ever see my grandfat-"

"Are you using Magneto as a defense?" Strange asked flatly.

Billy stuttered a few times before he managed to say, "You're the one giving me the third degree for being worried about my boyfriend!"

"I'm not giving you anything over being worried for your boyfriend. I'm giving you grief as the protector of this reality."

Billy blushed deeply. "You've been talking to America, huh?"

"No. I've been talking to your mother."

"Wait, what? For real?"

"Since the first time you tampered with this reality, yes. We've been in close contact. And I'm not surprised that you don't know that. As I said before, she's been protecting you."

"In my defense, the first time I tampered with reality, I was nine."

"You are no longer nine, Mr. Maximoff."

"Yeah, I know, I'm just saying- look, it doesn't matter."

"Don't try to argue with me, please," Strange said, sounding tired. "The fact of the matter is that you have an unlimited potential if you were to learn how to use it properly - and when to use it properly. Unless you get some help with that, then you'll have leveled out with what you can do. And it does matter. Far more than you realize."

"Then maybe I need to know what you know," Billy said, frowning, though he had touched back down on the ground.

"I wouldn't even consider it until you could show me you can take criticism without threatening the fabric of reality."

"Because I fly when I'm emotional?" Billy shot back, annoyed.

"Because you can't control your emotions," Strange said as he handed the files in his hand back to Hank. "Thankfully, I didn't come here to try and talk sense into you, but I will be back if you don't get it under control." He turned away from Billy to face Hank. "Let me know if anything changes for the worse."

Billy stared after Strange as he left, stumbling over his words too late before he gestured wordlessly at Hank. "...what?"

"It appeared to me as if the good doctor would prefer you were a bit more conservative with your power usage," Hank said. "Though I might be wrong … I don't speak Sorcerer Supreme."

"That's ridiculous. I've never hidden what I am."

Hank snickered to himself at that, shaking his head as he started back toward his desk. "Obviously not. How plain to see that we all don't have the same experiences in life or the same neon signs on when one should reconsider their options." He smiled warmly at Billy, then gestured behind him. "Extra blankets are in that closet."

"Thanks." Billy headed for the closet, then paused. "I mean… he was saying I could do more, though."

"Not under the current circumstances," Hank corrected.

"Yeah, I got that part." Billy sighed and pulled down a blanket. "I don't know. We've still got a couple years before we can get married, and he's going to school. Maybe some sorcerer studies wouldn't be that bad." He rubbed his hand through his hair. "He's got me curious, okay?"

"I would hope that you would be curious to improve yourself," Hank said, smiling quietly, but otherwise keeping his amusement under control. "Perhaps if you discussed matters with someone else that was aware of the situation?"

Billy tapped his foot a few times. "I'll text America," he decided.

"Yes, likely a wise choice, since I'm sure Strange was planning to speak with Wanda … again."

"Thanks, Hank," Billy said. "That definitely makes me feel better."

"You have time to speak with whoever you like," Hank promised as he put a hand on Billy's shoulder. "James will be out for a while - and I plan to be here should he wake up."

"Yeah, I'll just…" Billy trailed off and pulled out his phone, already texting America - and then rolling his eyes when she texted back:

Hey, he's not wrong. You've literally got the power of a god. You could do a lot more. And after all that time you spent relaxing in the tropics I sent you to, you're not in danger of blowing yourself up or turning into a supervillain out of pure stress. I say it can't hurt to learn more, right?

Billy leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose. Apparently, he was going to need to talk to Strange.

Just… once James was doing better.

James' level of frustration wasn't ebbing … at all, regardless of the progress he was making. And no one knew how best to help him out when the problem really stemmed from his body not catching up where he wanted when he was pushing so hard in one area or another.

Pushing hard to make physical progress left him with minimal results (in his eyes) but gave him much better results when it came to the speech issues - but at a cost. Yes, he was speaking more, but once he got better control of being able to say words, he found himself unable to find the right words.

It was in moments like that he found himself accidentally making physical progress when he'd throw something across the room, or, more recently, hit the wall with a punch that cracked the siding on the other side of the wall … and broke his hand. Frustrated didn't even begin to cover it.

And while his family and friends were trying to keep their positivity up and keep him going, James was tired of himself. He'd barely liked who he was before all this mess, and now? He'd quit growling all the time, but he was the picture-perfect example of a miserable SOB. He was constantly on the brink of an argument - and now that he was much more mobile - a fight, too.

Even James had noticed, though, that once he really got frustrated, he started to lose his balance easier. Just another reminder to him that he wasn't the person he used to be. As if he needed another reminder.

He couldn't watch television - not when everyone was so sensitive about him seeing anything from the news, which had him only wanting to see why they were all protecting him from it so much. It was irritating at best - and after a long session with Nate ready to catch him with TK the second James lost his balance a little, he was tired from a lot more than the walk they'd taken.

He kept looking toward the lake, wondering if he knew how to swim - and not really caring much if he did or not when the water looked inviting. Which was, of course, when he had a major misstep and twisted his ankle sideways … he couldn't even blame it on a divot in the lawn or a tree root. That was plain and simple just a matter of getting tired and tripping over his own feet.

But before he hit the ground - Nate caught him. And then, Nate started trying to reassure him that he was doing well - which James knew was just … wrong. He saw the body language shift from the cautious, watchful stance Nate usually had around him to barely restraining himself from rushing over to give James a steady arm. There really wasn't anything Nate could have done or said to make it better. Or easier. Or … okay at all. Not when suddenly everything he did was just … pissing James off. And when Nate finally did speak up, James started growling almost as soon as Nate opened his mouth.

"You went a lot farther this time," Nate said, then half held his breath when the growling started. Even after weeks of near-constant growling, Nate never seemed fully prepared when James started growling at him. "You even ran the flat sections. That's … huge."

"Stop."

"Okay," Nate said, stepping back a pace or two with both hands held up. "I'm just … I'm trying to help."

"Don't," James snarled out, swaying slightly where he stood as Nate got the hint and gently backed his telekinesis off. But not entirely.

"James - I can't … I'm not going to stop trying."

But that only got a lower, nastier sounding growl that Nate hadn't heard before. And it was about then that Nate realized that James - once again - was angry and frustrated enough that words were just out of reach. So he did what he'd done almost every time before this and gently reached out to hear what James had on his mind. Only to back out fast enough that he stumbled back a step at the raw emotions he saw there.

James turned slowly to start walking the rest of the way to the boathouse, sure his point had been made for him and feeling equal parts satisfied at pushing him back and guilty for doing so. He wanted to speak. He wanted to tell his little brother what he was thinking, why he was so mad and why he desperately needed him to just … go back to his girlfriend and more functional things to do. Better ways to help that weren't attached to a lost cause. But he couldn't get any of that out. He was too wrapped up in how upset he was that he did finally lose his balance and coordination entirely - and again, even against his directives, Nate caught James before he could get hurt. "Damnit!"

Nate started to rush forward, and this time, James didn't fight him - though he didn't help much either. Not at first. He would have let Nate get him into the boathouse. He really would have. But Nate was upset too. It was hard watching his brother struggle so much with things that he'd always made look so effortless and graceful. Before Nate could censor himself, it slipped out. "It's okay. You're doing really good."

And just like that, James had enough. He pushed back on Nate hard, shoving him away with enough force to knock himself over. And before Nate could get there, and before James could get himself even partially off the ground, he had his hand out. "Get out of here. Go find Kate."

"You are-"

"Would you just … leave me the f-"

"No," Nate shouted back, cutting him off and setting him back simply because Nate didn't do that with James. "I'm not gonna run off and leave you to beat yourself up. And quit telling everyone to go away before they do." James glared hard at him. "You don't mean it. I know you don't."

Nate tried again to help, and again, James managed to push him back.

"I'll get it. Stop."

Meanwhile, Annie was just inside the boathouse. She'd been trying to get to know the kids a little better - she'd gotten a chance to be around Nate and Rachel, but James had been hard to pin down before the incident - and now that he was easy to pin down, he wasn't himself. The strain was clear on the whole family, though Scott seemed to know more than the kids when to just … give him space. But this … Annie had seen this argument between Nate and James coming from a mile away. She didn't need to be a telepath or a superhero to see how crushed Nate was - or how hard it was for him to watch James struggle with every little thing.

So she took the time they were out working on James' physical improvement to pick up around the boathouse and bake where the kids would get to it - though she had noticed James hadn't touched anything.

But now the boys were arguing, and in spite of everything Nate knew, he was trying to convince a very frustrated and depressed James to let him help. Every time Nate got too close, James would abandon his efforts to get forward motion in favor of pushing Nate away - and losing his footing. By the time they came into the boathouse, Nate looked entirely defeated as he just kept the path clear for James, who kept a hand on the wall for balance - even then swaying and forcing himself to be careful.

Annie stopped what she was doing to watch, any whisper of a bright mood gone entirely on seeing how far James had slipped since they'd left - and at how close to panic Nate was.

Once James was to the hallway, he put his other arm out, too - and though he was walking slowly, they both knew he'd get himself to where he was headed.

Annie put her hand on Nate's arm, signaling him that she wanted to talk to him, though she waited until James was well out of earshot before, just to be safe, she took Nate's arm and led him in the opposite direction, until they were sitting out on the dock overlooking the lake together. And then, she took a deep breath, let it out, and rested her hand on his arm, meeting his gaze.

"Nate, you're doing everything you can, and you're doing everything right. You've been a great help to him, and he knows it," she said, first and foremost. "But you're not seeing him where he is, and you're usually so perceptive."

Nate set his jaw and nodded. He'd already heard it from his dad, that this was just evidence that he relied too much on telepathy and was letting his ability to read people without his powers atrophy, that he wasn't always going to have access to his powers and he didn't need to get lazy. "Yeah. Well." He cleared his throat. He liked Annie, so he didn't want to say what was on his mind, that he was trying and nothing was working and he didn't need one more person telling him he was wrong.

And then, Annie said, gently, "He's going to be mad at you no matter what, because he's not actually angry. Anger is just what happens when other emotions explode." She tipped her head to the side. "Have you ever been trapped in your own body, Nate? It's terrifying. You feel helpless. Scared. Frustrated. And to lose his mind on top of that? I can't imagine."

Nate frowned at Annie and couldn't help but brush her mind. He wasn't too surprised to see that she was reliving the time she'd spent trapped under Emma's commands, but she was also thinking about her dad. And while it wasn't quite the same thing, he could see how she had watched her father lose everything that she loved about him. She'd watched him go from warm and open and generous to lashing out and angry and unable to feel comfortable in his own house because he didn't know who anyone was. As he lost his mind to Alzheimer's, he'd been angry far too often - on top of losing the open-mindedness he had acquired later in life, as Nate and James had seen themselves.

Annie met his gaze. When she'd first started dating Scott, she hadn't known enough to know when Nate was brushing her mind like that. But now, after having been in the family for so long, she knew exactly what he was doing. And she let him do it and waited for him to look up at her.

"I know this is going to be hard for you to hear, because you and your father are determined to blame yourselves for every little thing," she said, the barest hint of a smile tugging at her expression as she said it, "but you are doing everything right, and he's still going to be mad at you. And that needs to be okay. You're going to have to make peace with the fact that he feels trapped in his own body, and you're going to have to stop telling him it's going to be okay. Maybe it will be. But it isn't right now, and you're only reminding him of that."

Nate took a deep breath, held it, and then let it out as he pressed his finger and thumb into the corners of his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, James said something like that when I asked him for advice helping Kate," he admitted.

"He's smart. Not that we didn't know that already." Annie smiled and leaned over to give him a hug, then smiled some more when he turned to give her a proper hug. "You're doing fine," she promised him. "You're a good brother."

"Thanks," he said quietly and held on to her that much tighter.

Annie held him as long as he needed and then let him leave to go find Kate, before she made her way to where she knew James would be resting after all the exertion he'd put into doing things on his own. And sure enough, he was sitting outside on the far side of the boathouse, barely outside, glaring toward the water.

Annie didn't try to touch him or anything, but she did sit down next to him. She didn't try to fix the way he was seated, even though it was obvious he'd more or less collapsed where he was. He looked exhausted. So, she just leaned back on her elbows, letting the sun fall on her.

"It's not quite the same, but I was telepathically trapped in my own mind not that long ago," she said. "I spent half my time crying. It was awful. And I don't think people who haven't lived anything like that understand what it's like." She tipped her head toward James. "Everyone's so focused on the recovery it's like they forget how horrible it is in the moment."

When Annie didn't get a response from James, Annie sighed and got to her feet again. "I'll try to get them to back off a bit," she promised. "Love you, James." With that, she headed off, seeing clearly that he was beyond exhausted and not up to a conversation.

But she did text her brother to ask him to keep a quiet eye on James. She recognized the look on his face, and that family didn't need any more tragedy.

Rachel had held back and let Nate handle things with James, for the most part. She knew, for one thing, that he'd already established a good rapport telepathically with James from the start, so she didn't want to add in another person trying to help James.

And on top of that, the pure hurt of watching her brother act nothing like himself had the Phoenix rattling its cage in her head, and she was honestly worried about that aspect of things.

She had been about to peek in and encourage James, but she'd reached out telepathically to check the temperature beforehand and had overheard Annie's discussion with Nate. Which, honestly, was helpful for her. If she wanted to see her brother, then she couldn't do what Nate was doing; she'd just say hi and make sure as he knew, later, that she'd been there for him.

So, she waited a bit until James was sitting in one of the chairs on the deck of the boathouse and then sat down in the other one.

"If it's okay with you, I just want to sit with you for a minute," Rachel said, wincing into a smile.

James held her gaze for a long moment. "What did I do to you?"

"Oh, no, it's just-" Rachel took a deep breath, held it, and let it out again. "It's my own problem. Got a fiery passenger in my head. But I wanted to check on my brother."

"Okay …" He looked over his shoulder to see who else was around. "And how's that working out?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "I think it would be stupid to ask how you're doing, but I … I don't know. I just don't want you to look back on all this later and wonder where the hell your big sister was in all this, even if I know I can't do much to help, you know?"

"I'm sure you have bigger stuff to deal with."

"Actually, yeah, which is why I'm taking a break to just sit with you, if that's okay."

James shrugged at that, though. He didn't really have much of an opinion on how it had all been going, but he had the feeling that precious little of this fell into the category of normal.

Rachel sat with him for a while until she saw Tony headed over and got to her feet. "Thanks for letting me sit with you," she said. "Is it okay if I come by again? I can't read your mind; it's peaceful just sitting with you. It always is."

"Okay," he said, relaxing his shoulders just a bit. "Sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for," she promised.

"Feels like it."

"Yeah, me too." Rachel waved at Tony as she passed, feeling utterly useless and not at all sure that she'd done anything helpful. She headed back inside and didn't notice that the very ends of her hair were starting to catch fire until Warren stopped her in the hall.

"Oh, woah, hey, wait," Warren said, blocking the entire hall with his wings. "What can I do?"

Rachel glanced up and instantly realized what was wrong. "Sorry," she said quickly and patted her hair out so that it was no longer on fire.

"No, no, no, no - no, totally understandable, all things considered." Warren looked over his shoulder. "So … Betsy's not around, but … I know where her gelato is if you wanna take a minute."

"That actually sounds amazing, thank you," Rachel said, letting both of his shoulders drop as she followed Warren back.

"My pleasure," Warren replied, smiling softly at her. "I'm not going to ask what's wrong because I already kinda know, you know?"

"Yeah…" Rachel pressed her hair down again, just to make sure it was safe. She didn't say anything until they were getting into Betsy's gelato, and then, she blurted out, "It's just… I'm his big sister, you know? And I feel like I can never protect him enough, and I should."

"Well that's a losing battle," Warren said thickly.

"I know, but that doesn't mean he's not my little brother, you know?"

"I mean … we never could figure out how to keep his parents out of trouble - and I know it's different, but it seems like the players are the same? It sucks, but you just need to be as there as he'll let you be for now." He dropped a hand on her shoulder. "You're doing great, though. Really."

Rachel nodded and leaned into him. "Thanks," she said, then threw her arms around him in a hug.

Just about everyone in Kate's life was too busy to take care of things like press, which was why she and Mia had been handling that when she could to fill the gaps for Tony and Rachel. She was trying to take care of Nate, yeah, but the world kept turning. And the world had seen James get shot. Which meant she was fielding calls, too.

"Hey, JJ," Kate said as she picked up the phone. "Sorry, no new comment for you. But if you've got something new to throw at me…"

JJ let out a frustrated noise over the phone. "Your father had a colorful comment this morning when the Times-"

"They literally caught him while he was getting coffee, he quipped about Deadpool's calling card, and he moved on."

"Still."

"I don't know what to tell you about the guy, JJ. Dad's told me a few stories, but he hasn't been around in my lifetime. I mean, he has been, but - you know what I mean."

"I do." JJ paused. "Off the record - how's Wolverine?"

"Off the record? Not great. But he's got good support."

"Good."

Kate couldn't help but smile. "You know," she said, "someone is going to figure out someday that you have a soft spot for-"

"I'll talk to you later, Miss Barton," JJ said and hung up.

Kate smiled to herself as she pocketed her cell phone. She hadn't smiled in a while, and getting to fluster JJ instead of having to constantly respond to him - that was worth smiling about.

That and stealing Annie's recipes.

She peeked around the doorway, where Annie was gathering ingredients for monkey bread. "Sorry about that. JJ gets annoyed if I ignore him," she said, smirking to herself.

"Oh, don't apologize. I know you're keeping so much off of everyone's plate and filling the gaps for Stark, too," Annie said, waving her over and handing her an apron.

"Yeah, but you said this was a good stress relief, right?"

"There's something satisfying about creating something in the middle of chaos," Annie explained. She paused, smirked, and added, "And pounding bread into submission is fun too."

"And I'll get to totally throw Nate off his groove when he realizes I've got Annie skills too."

Annie laughed and slid the recipe book toward her. "He'll be thrilled," she agreed.

The day was hot, humid, and generally unpleasant when the wind wasn't blowing, and James had decided he was taking a shower, come hell or high water. Even if he was worn out from all he'd done earlier in the day, he was ready to crash, hungry … but more than that, he wanted to hide in the water. And he stayed under the water long after he'd cleaned up, just … sitting on the floor of the shower in the spray trying to make sense of everything. Weighing out his options. Wondering how long he should keep making everyone miserable around him.

His memory was still trash. He knew who everyone was around him … because they'd told him. He knew the relationships because they'd told him. But he didn't know anyone yet. And at the rate he was going, he didn't know if he should bother.

Finally, James realized the water had run cold, and he sat there for a few minutes longer, enjoying even the cool water for as warm as it was outside. But he knew it wouldn't be long before someone came knocking to make sure he hadn't gotten hurt. Again.

So, he forced himself to his feet and swayed there for a long moment, even with his hand against the wall. He was dizzy, and the headache that had been building all day wasn't going away. It was just getting worse. He turned off the water and wrapped a towel around himself, then towel dried his hair and took a long moment pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes before he stared at himself in the mirror for a while, trying to figure out who he was. Sure, he knew his name and the bits and bobs that he'd been told, but … that was next to nothing.

The harder he tried to reach for it, the more his head hurt, until he was getting some nasty migraines that were distorting his vision and making his ears fuzz out. With one hand on the wall, he returned to his room and rushed drying off, only to pull on a pair of shorts and the first t-shirt he touched before he flopped down on the bed - entirely devoid of any grace. He pulled a pillow over and punched it into a more comfortable shape, eyes half closed before he had laid down entirely.

He was suddenly hungry … hungry enough that as he drifted off, the only thing that slowed him down was how loud his stomach was. But that would have to wait. This lure of sleep felt much more pressing to James' stressed and depressed mind.

While so many people were focused on helping James and the Summers family, there were still the newest heroes to deal with.

As far as Steve was concerned, they were all right on the cusp of being old enough to join the teams, but they weren't trained enough - that much was obvious from how quickly the riot had gotten away from them. They had genuine talent, but they needed help with the logistics of being heroes. They had heart, but not understanding.

And that, of course, was where Lexi Barton came in.

Steve had promised to talk to the kids' families, which was itself a big deal for them, because who else could say that Captain America was going to personally advocate for them to become heroes? That kind of thing didn't just happen. But part of the deal he'd made with the new kids was that they needed training with their powers, and while they could absolutely work with the Avengers, they were young enough that, really, the best training they could get would be at the school.

But Scott had made sure to tell each of the new heroes that they wouldn't start anything until they'd gone to talk to their parents first on their own, to tell them about their powers and their plans. He'd told them to take their time and not let anyone pressure them into anything they weren't ready for, which a lot of the kids had appreciated as well.

Still, they wanted to know more about the school, and while Mia was helping Tommy deal with Genosha drama while Billy was distracted, Lexi had volunteered to take her usual spot giving a tour.

Which was how the newcomers found themselves being led by an enthusiastically bouncing Barton down the halls of the school as she gushed about everything from the classes to the teachers to the team.

"...and summer vacation's just about over, so there will be more students here pretty soon," Lexi said as she finished up the tour, ending up in the gardens so she could take any questions they might have without anyone around to distract or pressure them - a trick she'd learned from Mia. She grinned and sat down on one of the benches lining the path. "So, you guys excited?"

"I mean, how could we not be?" Miles asked, looking around. His eyes had gotten wide toward the start of the tour, and Lexi was pretty sure they'd never gone back down to normal size.

"This is pretty cool," Sam said, not bothering to try and hide his enthusiasm like some of their friends were. "Where do we learn to fight like … all the idiots?"

"That would be the Danger Room," Lexi said, grinning. "Which you'll get to see later. I know it's a total bummer to skip it, but, like, the only reason this school hasn't been leveled again is because of advanced paranoia, so you'll get there when you're on the team, I promise."

"I mean, that does make sense," Amadeus said.

"I thought students got to learn stuff about self defense and things, too," Sam said - not quite arguing, but clearly on the path.

"Yeah. What, did you think we only have one training room?" Lexi rolled her eyes as well as her entire body toward Sam.

"Um. Yes." Sam threw his hands up. "Obviously."

"Sam, there are, like, three different gyms on the lower floors alone, and several different training rooms depending on what you're working on. Betsy runs the coolest ninja class ever, by the way."

"I am totally taking that," Sam said without missing a beat.

"You should," Lexi said enthusiastically. "It's always a challenge, and it keeps you on your toes, and honestly, it's one of my favorite classes in the whole curriculum."

"So, is it a requirement to join the team, then, too?" Amadeus asked. "I'm not exactly built for stealth."

Lexi shook her head quickly. "No, you just have to be able to fight without your powers, so you can protect yourself if you're ambushed. So self-defense and then at least one type of training based on where you want to focus in the team. Like, my baby brother is the best at stealth, so he's been taking some low-key basically-theivery classes from Remy."

"I am already focused on tech and smash," Amadeus said with a crooked grin.

"Well, there ya go. You should totally ask Kitty about tech, then," Lexi said reasonably.

"Is there a limit on who can take which classes, if we're all going to be on the same team - eventually?" Miles said, though the last bit was tacked on hastily.

Lexi shook her head. "No, you just find something that works for you, you know? But Storm likes to nudge everyone to take different classes even once you're on the team, because you never know if you'll need to cover for someone, you know? Even the adults are always trying to learn more and keep their skills sharp. My dad still sometimes comes over to get his butt handed to him by Betsy in a good swords matchup."

"So … do all the Avengers come around for scheduled fights?" Sam asked, bouncing around Amadeus to cut him off.

Lexi shrugged easily. "It's not, like, a scheduled thing, you know?"

"So who's the more hardcore team?" Sam asked with a broad grin.

"Oh, I am not answering that on the grounds that telepaths live here," Lexi said, laughing as she held up both hands. "And either answer gets me in trouble."

"Oh, come on," Sam said, still grinning at her. "Your sister's on both - you gotta have an opinion."

"I mean, here's the thing," Lexi said, blushing high on her cheeks. "The literal worst trouble she has ever been in was because of Hydra, and they're usually an Avengers problem, right? But in terms of quantity of yuck, the X-Men deal with just a downpour of awul. So which is worse, right? The occasional absolute-worst-thing-ever-facing-literal-Nazis-evil-to-the-point-you-almost-die or constant uuuugggghhh?"

"I mean … how bad is the downpour? Like … people being jerks or is it common that they shoot at you in public? Like, I know we walked into a bad scenario, but …. How often is it that bad?"

"Oh, we can't possibly include Wolverine-specific problems in our calculations, because that's unrelated to what team he's on," Lexi said, waving her hand. "He got shot because of the whole thing with Magneto. Which I guess is X-Men related?" She blew all her breath out so it vibrated her lips. "Look, the downpour is hard to measure what's from being on the team and what's from being a mutant…."

"But if you take out Wolverine issues entirely … then … which one is more hardcore?"

Lexi sighed. "It's not a competition."

"That sounds like a Stark-sponsored cop out," Sam teased.

"No, it's a realistic one," Lexi said, rolling her eyes again. "There's layers to it. The original X-Men were literally wiped out and sent into hiding, so, like, are you asking about them? Because yeah, they're a whole level of badass above everything else for very obvious reasons."

"And still … someone said no one joins the X-Men without going through the Avengers first," Amadeus pointed out quietly. "Sounds kinda weighted."

"Because of the aforementioned genocide?" Lexi goggled at him. "Like, after everything that happened, having the Avengers take a vested, active interest in the X-Men is life-saving. Having a second team that notices if you're, you know, dying? Big deal. I mentioned the levels of paranoia we live with, right? That's a thing."

"Chicken and egg scenario?" Amadeus said to Miles, who nodded sagely with him.

"With what we know right now? Sounds like."

Lexi waved her hand. "Anyway," she said pointedly.

"They're just like this," Kamala said. "Boys and their competitions that no one cares about."

Lexi smirked Kamala's way. "My mom says that's half the reason the original two teams didn't get along. Testosterone instead of actual communication."

"Maybe," she replied slowly, not willing to bust herself out on what she had learned over her time reading every bit of information she could on both teams.

"Anyway," Lexi said, "I meant to ask if your parents had any questions or anything - or how that's going, I guess." Lexi winced slightly. "Sorry, I've never had to have that conversation…"

Amadeus shrugged lightly and looked down at his hands. "Not much to do for me, honestly," he said. "No parents to talk to, just transfer paperwork to do…"

Lexi touched her nose. "Right. Dad said you were at the Massachusetts Academy. Were you there when it blew up? That was insane."

Amadeus shook his head. "No, I was at a science conference that weekend, thankfully."

"And my mom already knew," Sam said when Amadeus had been quiet for a minute; the Massachusetts Academy had been home for him after his family died, so that was still a rough topic. "I mean, my dad was an alien, so… hard not to know, right?"

"Fair point," Lexi said, laughing in spite of herself. She looked Kamala's way. "So…?"

"It's a work in progress," Kamala said haltingly, half holding her breath.

"What's to work on? You have awesome powers!" Lexi pointed out, grinning widely.

"I know, but, like … they will totally flip out if I just saunter up and blurt it out. It's just … I'll get there. I have to ease them into it."

"Yeah, same," Miles said, nodding quickly. "My dad's not a big fan of superheroes as it is? Especially with everything that's been in the news lately, you know?"

Lexi bit her lip. "Yeah, okay, fair point on the news. It's been crazy lately. Seriously." She looked between Kamala and Miles. "But…" She paused as a butterfly landed on her nose and had a serious discussion with her for a second. "Right. Yeah, no, you're right. No pressuring. You did hear that right." The butterfly left, and Lexi sighed. "Anyway, um, I think that's it for the tour, unless you guys had any more questions?"

"Not right now, anyhow," Miles said. "I know we have to get through the talk first."

"I wish I could give you some advice," Lexi said earnestly.

"So … how is the team doing," Kamala asked, trying to sound casual. "You know … with everything … lately."

Lexi grimaced and leaned back on the bench. "About as well as you'd expect. Everyone's worried. But James is healing, so that's something, anyway. Just sucks that everything always seems to happen at once, right?"

"That's what everyone says," Miles agreed.

"Just means we're due for something good, right? After this trial is over, maybe. You know Cyclops is engaged, right? My Aunt Jan is already designing for the wedding." Lexi grinned. "It can get pretty rough being a hero, but we know how to party. Just wind Tony up and let him loose. It's a blast!"

"Yeah, can we go back to the whole Cyclops getting married thing?" Kamala asked, her eyes wide. "Because that- I mean - like it wasn't even that long ago he was dead, I mean as far as anyone knew, right? And, like… what?"

Lexi threw her arm over Kamala's shoulders. "Strap in, my friend," she said in a conspiratory whisper. "We need to catch you up on the saga that is the Summers family."

James didn't move at all once he fell asleep. Not for days. It was more than enough to get the rest of the family concerned, and America was even nice enough to (jokingly) hold a mirror up to his nose to prove to Rachel that he was still breathing. But, eventually, James woke up … groggy, sore from sleeping in one position - and hungrier than he could ever remember being. It took him a long moment to get his bearings once he sat upright, and with his eyes half closed, he got to his feet and silently padded to the kitchen of the boathouse where they were temporarily staying. With his focus plainly on just food, he didn't realize he wasn't struggling nearly as much as he had been physically.

It was almost three in the morning - no one was awake, no one was around to spot him silently moving through the boathouse, though Nate was passed out on the couch, fitfully sleeping… and James sure as hell wasn't going to bother anyone. Not like he wanted to talk to them anyhow. His head was still killing him, but he was starving. And dehydrated. So he spent nearly an hour stuffing himself with anything he could get his hands on, then drank as much water as he could hold before he went right back to bed, curled up in a little ball, and passed out hard. He was better off staying out of everyone's way, and he was disappointed that he'd woken up at all, if he was being honest, so sleep seemed like the best case scenario … for now.

He could have waited for someone to get up - he was pretty sure Scott would be up at dawn, anyhow - but that was bound to come with questions that he didn't want to think about. This? Sleeping was much easier. Once he fell asleep again, he slept hard enough that he didn't hear the confusion when Scott did get up to see that the place had more or less been cleaned out of anything edible. He also didn't hear it when Scott came in to check on him. Or when Nate did the same.

After Scott let out a hollow, disbelieving laugh with no amusement, the rest of the family was clued in on what Scott already knew: that not only was this not a surprise, all things considered, but that it was a good sign if James kept crashing to coma-like levels of unconsciousness after gorging himself.

But because they didn't know where he was in his healing since he wasn't talking to anyone, the whole of the Summers family started taking watch in shifts to try and catch him so they could talk to him. Naturally, that wasn't going to work.

Over the course of the next several days, James slept without moving, essentially repeating the first coma and worrying his little brother sick. Moreso when Nate realized that the second time out, James managed to sleep for a day longer than when he'd fought with his brother. And still, when James woke up during the wee hours, he managed to evade them all again.

But Scott was quick to adjust to James' off-kilter schedule, and after the second round of late-night fridge raids ended up spaced far enough apart that Annie was worried, Scott caught James on his way to get a drink when he got up for round three of refueling.

"I'll join you," Scott said, getting ahead of James to pour them both coffee but letting James pick what he wanted from the fridge and pantry. And when James sat back down with a plate full to bursting, Scott smirked quietly into the coffee mug. "Annie's been making everything she can think of hoping you at least enjoy these little late-night raids."

James watched him for a long moment, refusing to speak until after he'd gotten through his first few bites and washed it down with the better part of a mug in one go. "Is that why she hasn't had time to get you to shave?"

Scott absently raised a hand to his face but couldn't help but smirk - since that sounded much more like the James he knew, even if he was a little gruffer than Scott was hoping for. "Been distracted."

"Anything I should know about?" James asked, going right back into his food and not really looking up at Scott.

"Just honestly glad to have you back," he said.

James made a low sound in the back of his throat at that, though. "Don't feel like it."

"Yeah, I know. Recovery sucks. I never had the patience for it either."

James let the quiet stretch out for a long while, obviously trying to avoid talking if he could - which wasn't necessarily like him and was a reminder that things were still off. "Now what?"

"Now… you focus on healing, and when you're feeling like you're ready to get back on your feet… I was hoping I could help you with your new apartment. Assuming you're still going to Harvard."

James let out a sigh. "You think they still want me after … that?"

"Absolutely. If anything, it would be a big win for them. Big story."

"I don't see how. Left my brains in the park."

Scott raised his eyebrows, realizing that James knew more than they'd wanted him to; he must have seen the news. So, he let James in on the rest: "Kate and JJ have been colluding. Not as much recently, but … he's actually been ginning up good press for the school, railing against hate groups… you make a big recovery and go to Harvard and dazzle them like I know you will, and that's just one big middle finger to the people who tried to knock you back down."

"Yeah … well … they ever figure out who it was?" James glaring at the table, though that softened slightly when Scott got up to bring the coffee pot over and refilled his mug. "Or are they waiting to see what happened with my 'big recovery'?"

"Acolyte," Scott said simply. "He's dead now. Mercenary came after him."

James kept his focus on his coffee mug. "So what… immediately next?"

"Right now? I'd just like to share a cup of coffee with my son."

"And maybe give me some input on the next project."

Scott smiled broadly. "Yeah? What are you thinking?"

"Thinking Tony was on the right track. Gonna have to bulletproof the uniforms."

Scott raised both eyebrows, grinned, set his mug down and pulled James around the shoulders for a hug. "Perfect. We'll work with Jan." He hugged him again. "Missed you."

"I still don't feel right, so … be aware."

"That's alright. We'll deal with it as it comes."

"I know I'm missing something," James said as he went back to eating. "And you can tell Annie whatever you like. I haven't been paying attention to what I'm eating. At all."

"Then I'll make sure she knows you loved it," Scott said. "She's doing her best. Wants to help, especially after you saved her from Emma."

"Nate would have figured it out."

"Eventually." Scott left his arm around James's shoulders. "Still, she adores you."

James frowned as he thought it over. "Uh-huh. Where's my computer?"

"Billy's got it. He's been monitoring your email just to make sure no college things go past."

"They'd send a letter to revoke," James said. "More official that way. Even if it would look bad on them for doing it after I lost-" He stopped himself from saying what was on the tip of his tongue - only because it was his dad he was talking to.

"Like I said, we'll take it as it comes," Scott promised. He ruffled James's hair affectionately, seeing James's empty plate and tired shoulders. "And I'll let Annie know you first-named her. She'll be grinning for days."

"Doesn't count if I don't remember doing it," James replied as his eyes drifted closed. He wasn't quite ready to go back to sleep, but the headache was building again. "Did they get the bullet?"

"No, it was a through and through."

"Damn. I was kinda hoping that was why…"

Scott let out a long breath. "You know," he said slowly, "your father used to disappear after a bad hit like that. My guess is the adamantium stopped it from being this bad, but it was still bad enough that he needed to heal for days. I can't say I understand this mutation as well as he did, but if I were to guess based on how long it took him… I think a few more days of eating and sleeping will do it."

"And if that doesn't cut it? Eventually, there has to be a point where I just … get away from everyone."

"You're more yourself than you've been since it happened. That's a good sign," Scott pointed out. "No reason to give up on the downhill."

"How long has it been?" James asked.

"Long enough to grow a beard," Scott teased.

"For you? That … isn't much of a measure. Why aren't you shaving again?"

"On top of all the drama with the Genosha trial, you didn't remember who I was, and I only just felt like we were making any progress after Emma…" He drifted off, rubbed the back of his neck, and let the statement fall.

"Is Nate okay?" James asked after a long moment of frowning and staring out the dark windows.

"He's been staying at Kate's place. She's determined that he will be, like it or not."

"Yeah, but - nevermind."

Scott watched James for a long moment but decided he was too happy to have his son back to press the issue. So instead, he squeezed James's arm. "Get some sleep, James. It's good to see you." He ruffled James's hair backward. "Love you."

"Yeah, love you too." He failed to stifle a yawn. "See you in a week. Maybe."

"I'll tell Annie to restock the coffers."

"I went easy because you were here. And scruffy."

Scott chuckled. "Love you. See you when you wake up."