-X- X-Men: Foundations part 2: Changing World Summary Chapter 1: Bright Stars Chapter 2:Stand Still Chapter 3: Empire State University Chapter4: Distant Early Warnings Chapter 5: Brand Annex Chapter 6: Open Secrets Chapter 7: Change of Faith Chapter 8:Winter Breaks Chapter 9: Healing Breaks Chapter 10: Ice Skate Eve Chapter 11: Razor's Edge Chapter 12:Last Call Chapter 13: Thoughts Ignite Chapter 14: Red Tide Chapter 15: The Pass Chapter 16: Spring Breaks Chapter 17: Kid Gloves Chapter 18: Second Natures Chapter 19: Prime Movers Chapter 20: Moving Parts Chapter 21: Barriers Fall Chapter 22: Hand Over Hand Chapter 23: Hand Over Fist Chapter 24: Open Hand Chapter 25: Open Hand Closed Fist Chapter 26: Racing Heart -XX-
X-Men: Foundations part 2: Changing World
Chapter 11
-X-
Razor's Edge The following Friday afternoon Scott was scheduled for his first training session with Shang-Chi. None of them had spoken since about meeting Danny Rand but Jean had told Scott, in no uncertain terms, that she was coming back here with him. Given the general weirdness of that encounter, Scott had no objection – and, more to the point, he knew Jean well enough to know that his objection would have been pointless anyway. He paid the cab driver and the two of them stepped onto the sidewalk outside Heroes for Hire. Danny Rand’s landmark martial arts studio, Thunder Dojo, had just relocated down the block, around back from the Heroes building. They pulled their coats tight against the blustery cold that warned of a stormy weekend to come and walked in that direction. “What’s on your mind?” Scott asked after a few moments’ silence. Jean was staying uncharacteristically quiet. “I’ve been trying not to, but I keep thinking about what Rand said,” Jean worried aloud to him. “At first I thought he was just off his eccentric rocker. But Shang-Chi obviously has some... special talents. What if Rand is on to something too? Am I completely crazy to want to sit down with this guy, ask him to talk about totally off-the-wall things like mind crystals, the afterlife, thought reading, and what he’s seeing in my psychic aurora?” “No. It’s not crazy at all. Since this past summer, we’re way off the ‘normal’ map. We’re all still looking for answers.” Jean frowned. “It doesn’t feel anything like the way it did with Shadow King and D’Spayre... but ever since I touched that mind crystal– something’s different. I can keep explaining away all the reasons for my glitchy control, but the fact is, it’s happening more and more.” She shook her head in frustration. “Then I remember – I’m trying to be a doctor here, Scott! That’s what I’m supposed to be doing; so when did just trying to concentrate on that one simple task become so damn unreasonable?!” They had arrived outside a glass storefront emblazoned with Rand’s trademark Iron Fist logo. “It’s not unreasonable.” Scott paused, turning to face her with a sympathetic smile. “Not at all,” he insisted. Jean smiled sheepishly. “Thanks.” “I didn’t do anything.” Scott waved off her thanks. Jean shook her head at him. “You always help me keep things in perspective, Scott, especially when I start to feel like I’m losing mine. Sometimes, somebody believing in you like that makes all the difference in the world. Just that vote of confidence is enough permission to silence my own doubts and believe in myself again. C’mon,” she added, giving a tug on his sleeve. “You don’t want to be late.” They hung their coats in the hall by the front door and stepped inside a large, open room. Pretty standard set up for a training gym: floors lined with exercise mats, walls lined with mirrors. Scott removed his shoes before stepping onto the mat. He was dressed for a workout, in loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants. No sign of Shang-Chi yet. Jean gave Scott a reassuring pat on the arm before she took a seat in one of the chairs lining the back of the room. Scott wandered over to the place where a stylized line of cursive engraving was set into the wall above the mirrors, facing down on them from the front of the room. It read: “It takes courage to admit that we participate in killing, violence, and hate around the world. And once you face the truth, it is difficult to retreat back into a state of unconsciousness. Becoming aware of the truth requires action, and that is when the struggle begins.” “I know that quote.” “Emory said that you would.” Shang-Chi seemed to have arrived silently. “That quote was his contribution when we remodeled the dojo for Heroes for Hire’s use. And I thought it odd, at the time, that he was carrying with him a very well-read copy of The Art of War.” “John Lewis is a personal hero of mine.” And Emory’s planned student counter-protest group also served as a nice cover story to explain Scott’s fresh interest in martial arts training. “But I think Emory and I are in agreement that some of the old nonviolent philosophies and methods are outdated for today’s times. I want to be able to defend myself and those around me from harm.” Shang-Chi listened as silently as he had arrived. “So. How should we begin the training?” Scott finally asked. “How do you think we should begin?” Scott suppressed a somewhat tired sigh. So, this was not going to be straightforward. “You said something before about my learning Tai Chi. Do you think I could at least try my hand at Kung Fu first? I already have some rudimentary martial arts skills.” “If you wish.” That concession surprised him, but Scott also got the feeling he was being pacified. Either Shang-Chi wanted to test him, or teach him a hard lesson straight off the bat; only one way to find out which one he had in mind. Scott decided to run with the challenge. “How about push hands?” He grinned. “Should I try to move you?” Scott assumed even if he was unsuccessful in the attempt, he would be able to learn something about technique from seeing how the trick worked up close. Stance. Set up. There had to be a method to it, if not an actual trick. “Better if I try to move you. Always put defense before offense.” Scott agreed to try defense, though reluctantly. He’d learned long ago that, if he didn’t want to take an ugly beating, the best defense for someone of his size was to not be where the person trying to hit him expected him to be. Plus, he’d already seen Luke fail at this exercise, and Luke Cage was at least three times Scott’s size.... Scott took a defensive stance, feet apart, knees bent, hands out open-palmed, and he waited. Shang-Chi went through a series of forms, seemingly gathering energy, focus, momentum. When he struck, it was like being hit by pure energy. Scott went down and for a split second he couldn’t move at all. It was like a shock wave had run through his body, head to toe, and left him numb. He panicked. Not only couldn’t he move, he wasn’t sure he could even breathe. Then he was hearing Jean’s voice as she knelt on the mat beside him, her hand steady on his back. He was down on his hands and knees on the mat, gasping for air like a drowning rat. “Easy, Scott. You’re okay now.” He managed to sit without making his head spin but the motion did make him feel slightly nauseous, which quickly convinced him he wasn’t ready to stand up yet. “What the hell– is that normal?” Shang-Chi was studying him from a few steps away, arms crossed harmlessly, just watching. The only thing stopping Scott from going full fight-or-flight mode was the fact that Jean wasn’t scared or angry. At the moment she was completely focused on him and ignoring Shang-Chi altogether. Whatever this was, Jean didn’t seem to think it had been a malicious attack on him. “You desperately need to focus your chi.” “I– what?” Shang-Chi sat down opposite Scott, calmly, his legs crossed into a relaxed position on the mat in front of him. “Your chi– internal energy– life force– will power. It has many names. Most people have only limited understanding of its role in mind and body, or even of its existence within them as they go about their daily lives. Very, very few people ever develop the capacity to tap into their own inner strength. You have that potential. But right now, that place of peace within you instead resembles a war zone. When my chi energy contacted yours you lashed out in kind, instinctively. The effort overwhelmed you because your chi is wildly unfocused.” Scott shook his head. “How do I focus it enough to use it without knocking myself out in a fight?” “It doesn’t work that way. Your chi is not a well of energy to be drawn from at random. Nor is it a weapon to be wielded before you in a fight. It is you. “Each of us possess physical, mental, and spiritual life forces. Think of your chi as the place where these parts of yourself intersect with your immortal life force – your soul, if that word better fits with your belief system. It is an aspect of yourself far greater than your mortal form, but one that will conform to you as you move through this mortal life. Just as your chi is shaped by your life experience, it can also be sculpted and directed by your own will. “I can teach you Kung Fu as a skill, a form of martial arts that consists of punching and kicking. Or I can teach you Tai Chi. In Tai Chi, the object in training yourself – in learning to focus your chi – is not always to fight but sometimes simply to find peace within yourself. Calm the storm within your life force. Then focus will come. In time, your chi will conform to match your will. At that point you may even move beyond the need to punch and kick– though, I can still teach you that part too,” he conceded with a grin that made him look once more like the kid he still was. Scott took a deep breath. He didn’t necessarily understand, but something about Shang-Chi’s words felt true enough to make him want to know more. “Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance; It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop.” Shang-Chi nodded in approval. “You know your Confucius, in addition to Sun Tzu; this gives me hope for you. Come back next week. We’ll start again.”
-x-
Scott was still more than a little shaken up as he and Jean exited the dojo. “Either this is brilliance or utter madness; I have absolutely no idea which,” he confessed. “For what it’s worth, I don’t sense deception in him. He believes in what he says, and he had no intent to harm you. The strength of your reaction seemed to surprise him too.” Scott glanced at her; he didn’t have to ask. Jean wrapped her arm through his, drawing close enough to his side to speak privately. “I scanned your mind. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with you, Scott.” He swallowed hard. That wasn’t as reassuring as it should have been... that meant the problem was him. “What?” Jean asked. He took a couple of minutes to level with her about his seemingly deteriorating state of mind, the recent nightmares. In his darkest moments he had worried he was slipping into some form of mental instability, unable to stop dwelling on the past, losing the ability to draw a clear line between things that happened in his long ago past and his life as it was now. Most of all, he was afraid of losing control.... “But, what happened today– that’s never happened to me before.” “Scott. What happened to you today was a panic attack. It’s a medical condition – you’re not losing your mind, or your self-control, or anything else.” She slipped her hand into his and squeezed his fingers for emphasis. “You hear me?” He nodded. “You know that saying about fear itself? Fear is pretty bad, all on its own....” He glanced around, checking their privacy level. “Facing Shadow King and D’Spayre was easier,” he admitted. At least then he’d known he was fighting an outside entity that was trying to manipulate him. He didn’t know how to fight his own head. “That’s exactly the thing, Scott.” Jean agreed with Shang-Chi’s earlier admonishment. “The object is not to fight yourself, but to make peace. Accept. Forgive.” Easier said than done. “I’m not sure I even know how.” Scott gave a grim laugh. “Even if I could put the big battles aside,” he conceded, motioning with his free hand toward his glasses, “I’m always second-guessing myself. Always worried I’m somehow doing the wrong things; halfway sure I’ll mess everything up before it’s all said and done.” Jean smiled back at him, squeezing his arm in reassurance. “It’s okay; that’s exactly why you do the right things.” “What happens if I don’t?” “If you mess up, I’ll tell you so.” Scott laughed at that. “That easy, huh?” Jean nodded, grinning up at him. “It is; I promise.” “I’ll take it,” he agreed. The promise might have been simplistic, but it helped; he didn’t have to be afraid, constantly worrying over a million shadowy unknowns. He could simply trust Jean to be honest with him, and to tell him if he was off base. Hell, he already did that, all the time. “I have to admit, I didn’t expect to be using that trauma psych. text practically quite yet.” Scott raised an eyebrow. “I spent about five minutes putting you through grounding exercises before you came out of that panic attack.” “Grounding?” She quickly explained to him what she had already done: “Use physical touch. Repeat a soothing phrase. Focus on calming images. It’s a framework of physical and mental distraction: a way to redirect someone’s thoughts away from physical and mental distress, enough to get them back into the present moment.” “Grounded. Well, if I didn’t believe it before, I guess I do now.” According to Shang-Chi, he was at war with himself. Luckily, he’d had Jean here today to negotiate a truce. But it looked like he was going to need Tai Chi before even thinking about further martial arts training. “Come on, Summers,” Jean offered. “I’ll at least buy you dinner, if you don’t feel like sitting through a movie.” “Na, I’m feeling better.” A little cold, fresh air really hit the spot, and dinner and a movie actually sounded like the perfect thing to take his mind off all this. “Just let me stop by my room for a fresh change of clothes before we go to the movies.”
-x-
Scott made a quick stop at his dorm to change. After that they were headed off campus, toward the old movie house that was their regular haunt, bargaining over who was buying. Jean offered to get movie snacks this time (despite her ribbing Scott over his bottomless pit appetite). “At least you won’t bankrupt my food budget for the week if you’re eating dinner later on.” Jean also insisted that he come along to her parents’ for the weekend (while Ro had plans to visit with her aunt, Patrice). Jean framed it as her wanting company, and a little bit of a buffer in the new post-Sarah reality. Scott suspected this afternoon’s events had something to do with her ask as well. Jean didn’t necessarily seem worried over him, just wanting to keep him close by... like a patient whose recovery she was monitoring. Not too long ago, that thought would have made him a little crazy. Today he didn’t mind it. First off, that was Jean; she couldn’t easily turn off her “doctor mode” any more than Scott could quiet his own tendencies to worry obsessively. If he was going to worry, Jean was going to be protective. But secondly, it was utterly surreal that he just felt... comfortable in Jean’s presence. Not vulnerable or embarrassed, not somehow emasculated over having been knocked for a loop by a kid– or having gone down for the count to a panic attack. Just the opposite, he was glad she had been there. He felt stronger and more secure for having her with him, both then and now. Current worries over his mental state aside, Scott had grown up a lot since last summer. He didn’t have to be so defensive or stand-offish just to prove himself. Jean knew him better than that anyway, enough to see through the bluster. And he felt the same way she did about her proposed plans for the weekend; it would be good for each of them to have the other around. “Okay. I’ll come along then,” he agreed. “Great!” Jean beamed up at him, nearly taking Scott’s breath away.
-x-
A few hours later the movie had let out and Jean had talked Scott into playing a round of pool in the Flamin’ Grill’s game room while they waited for a dinner table to open up... and she was immediately reminded of her disadvantage at playing pool with him away from Xavier Institute. “This was your suggestion,” he insisted, feeling absolutely no remorse for running the table at her expense. “Okay, hot shot,” Jean murmured. “But if I don’t at least get another play in this game, your eight ball is going to take an embarrassing side trip into the kitchen.” “You wouldn’t.” She tried not to laugh at his incredulous reaction. “Try me.” His next shot went just wide of the corner pocket, causing Scott to flush furiously. It looked like it physically pained him to throw the shot, but he had quickly decided that was the better option than letting her take things into her own hands, telekinetically or otherwise. “Finally, I get to play this game too!” Jean declared happily as she lined up her own shot. “You’re pretty good, man.” Scott sized up the guy who’d just spoken to him and quickly noted: he was the pool shark in these parts. “Care to make the next round more interesting?” “No. Thanks.” Scott deliberately set his cue aside. “We’re just waiting on a table for dinner.” “I think I see one now,” Jean offered helpfully. “Excuse us.” Scott rested an arm lightly at her back as he followed Jean into the seating area. Jean whispered over her shoulder. “Don’t worry; I think you could have taken him.” Scott laughed quietly. “Thanks. If not, you could always beam someone with a pool ball, enough for us to make a run for it.” “Unlike you, I would only throw pool – or pool balls – as an absolute last resort,” she insisted, teasing him. “Ouch. That one hurts.” “Good. Maybe that’ll remind you not to show me up at pool when I can’t properly compete.” “Point taken.” Jean was actually quite good at pool when she could skip the pool cue and play using telekinesis alone. They settled into a booth, placed their orders, and spent the next half hour or so happily haggling over the movie review. All this had become routine for the two of them over the past semester. Since there was no way Ororo would visit a movie theater (she had a hard enough time patiently sitting through a movie on TV; the call of outdoors was always more compelling), Jean would instead give her a recap (along with Scott’s review of the film) when Jean got back to their dorm room. They would typically stop in at Flamin’ Grill for a late dinner after catching the movie and snack on junk food while forming/haggling over said movie recap/review. Tonight they had almost reached a compromise when suddenly there was a disturbance in the back room. It sounded like a brief scuffle, followed by the shattering of broken beer bottles. While Jean was mildly alarmed, Scott looked oddly amused; he’d been noticing comings and goings back there since he and Jean had been seated. Three college boys eventually emerged from the back room in the company of a very large dishwasher, and were promptly shown to the door. “Better luck next time, boys,” the guy who’d spoken to Scott earlier waved the unhappy offenders out cheerfully. “You knew that guy was trouble.” Scott shook his head, still smiling in amusement. “I knew this was his turf. It’s like any other form of gambling. You might have a little fun along the way, but the house will always find a way to beat you in the end. If it doesn’t, then you’re really in trouble! In the case of those three, I suspect alcohol consumption pushed them out the door quicker than loss of funds. “At least there’s some challenge in hustling pool,” he considered. “But add in alcohol and you tend to either get more stupid or more dangerous pretty quickly – why be either one?” he asked with a playful grin, meant to lighten a topic that had gone heavier than intended. Jean nodded thoughtfully. She had similar thoughts on the matter, at least as it applied to herself. Some days she could hardly manage her head sober; the thought of trying it under the influence was not an appealing one. “And then there are your obvious control issues,” she teased him. “I guess that’s fair.” He laughed at her teasing, but he also answered her thoughtfully. “The things I can’t control are enough on their own. Why voluntarily increase the unpredictability?” Jean could sense something, just off, in his brief silences, in the way his attention was still drawn to the pool room in back... but the confession that followed still managed to surprise her. “Jack was a hard drinker. I could usually handle him when he was sober– predictable. But throw in enough alcohol and there was no telling what he might do next.” Scott had seen Jack Winters go from so sloppy drunk he seemed completely inept to a near-murderous rage, like a souped-up race car going from 0 to 90. He’d only had to see it once to decide he didn’t ever want to see it again. Scott shook his head. “I didn’t care if it was two a.m. and ten below outside. If he was on a bender, I’d take my chances sleeping on the streets until he sobered up.” Jean stared speechlessly for a couple of seconds. It had been a while since she’d thought about that time in Scott’s life in general, or Jack Winters in particular. It had been a long time since Jean felt like she needed to prod or pry that old information out of Scott. Their friendship went far beyond that now... and yet it still surprised her to hear him speak relatively easily of such difficult times. “Sorry– not good dinner conversation,” he said, taking note of her surprised silence. “No.” Jean shook her head and reached across the table to place her hand on his. “Just unexpected.” She hesitated. “Did– that happen often?” His eyebrows raised. “Jack’s drinking?” he asked. “Only every time he had enough money to hit the bar or the track.” She smiled at his intended joke then shook her head. “No.” Jean dropped her gaze and gave his hand a quick squeeze before the smile vanished. “I mean what happened if you didn’t stay away from him while he was drinking... did that happen to you often?” Scott paused, then shifted his weight slightly. “Not so often. But it happened.” “It shouldn’t have happened,” she countered. “I know.” His straightforward agreement surprised her. “I was an idiot for letting it happen.” That reaction was more expected; it still angered her. “You are not.” She squeezed his hand tightly. “And don’t you dare take the blame for that.” Her passionate defense made him smile. “I know, it wasn’t my fault he liked to knock me around whenever he got the chance. I’m just saying, I was messed up enough at the time to accept a lot of things at face value when I knew they were wrong. I wish that had been different; I wish I’d simply walked away instead of thinking I could game the system. But I guess I had to learn that lesson the hard way.” “House always wins?” “No. Sometimes people come into your life for no other reason than to teach you what not to do.” “Is that one Confucius?” Scott grinned. “Actually, I made that one up.” Jean laughed. “It’s good.” Scott nodded in acknowledgment. “At least I managed to learn something worthwhile.” He shrugged. “At the time, I learned most of the wrong things from Jack– but now, I like to think I’ve learned far more from him after the fact. I know a hell of a lot more now about the kind of man, the kind of leader, I never want to be.” Jean stared at him for a couple of seconds. “I have no idea how someone goes through the kinds of things you’ve been through and not only makes it out, but comes out of it the kind of person you are now.” He shook his head. “It would have been much more impressive if I’d simply had the good sense to get myself out of a bad situation.” “No, I don’t mean that. You were a kid. You did the best you could then– but there was only so much you could do. I mean you, Scott. The person you are now. You’re pretty amazing, you know that?” He looked down, but he also smiled shyly back at her before mumbling, “Thanks, Jean.” Compliments made him uncomfortable as a rule, but she’d finally gotten him to a place where he could honestly, if not always graciously, accept hers. Then Jean reached up to place her hand to his cheek, lifting his gaze – not something Jean usually did, and not something Scott would generally allow. But she smiled reassuringly, speaking to him privately, telepathically: I’m really glad to have you in my life now, Slim. Her gesture shocked him for a solid second before it fully sank in that Jean knew exactly what she was doing and saying. Slim? She knew exactly what that meant to him – the gesture and the old name, alike. And yet, when Jean reached out to him telepathically, there was such intense feeling, such honest emotion behind simple words and ordinary gestures. It felt extraordinary and completely natural, all at the same time. Sometimes, I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you. “I– I don’t know what I’d do without you either, Jean,” Scott readily admitted. She smiled back at him, staying still for just a second longer. For a long moment there, he really had no idea what was going on between them. This just felt... right. Scott had absolutely no idea what she saw in him that made Jean Grey look at him that way, made her believe in him the way she did; he was just glad that she did. That was it. For just a couple of moments, it felt like the Earth had tilted on its axis – like things were different than they had been before – before Jean sat back in her seat and they seamlessly resumed their discussion on the merits of the movie night. Tonight’s selection had been one of those over-the-top romantic comedies, more silly than romantic. But the implausible romantic twist kept side-tracking their conversation. Jean generally steered clear of romances altogether when she was picking the film, but after today’s excitement neither of them had really been in the mood for a fast-paced action film either. She had learned years ago that Scott had a very low tolerance for romance; she could count on one hand the number of romantic comedies she hadn’t completely regretted making him sit through. He did like The Princess Bride... though he also argued it wasn’t a romance; she insisted he was obviously, blatantly, wrong on that fact. But Scott had only broken her up laughing with a well-placed, deadpanned, pronouncement of, “inconceivable”. He still did that, once in a while, and it always broke her up laughing. That had been their first – and probably one of their more contentious – movie recap/review sessions. They both loved that movie; it had set a very high bar. Scott’s practical nature found most romances too contrived, which tended to ruin his suspension of disbelief. And Jean had to admit, she saw his point. It did seem contrived, sometimes, watching leading actors fall in love at the drop of a hat... she no longer believed it was as easy as she had thought when she was younger. In the real world so many things conspired against people falling in love and living happily ever after. “Hey, Jean– I thought that was you! I would know that laugh anywhere.” Ted Roberts broke off from a group of guys seated at the counter and came over to talk to Jean. Jean looked away from Scott a little nervously. Ted and his cohort looked to be a couple of beers into their Friday night, and the other guys seemed more impressed with Ted’s flirting chops than Jean did. Ted gamely persisted in trying to interest Jean in joining them at a party later in the night anyway. Scott was just starting to wonder if Jean’s initial nervous reaction, followed by several polite rejections, was meant more for Ted’s benefit or his own.... Then Jean abruptly changed the subject. “Whatever happened with Misty? Did you two talk?” “Huh? Oh, right– yeah. Misty said Cal and I could volunteer at the Heroes free medical clinic on weekends, whenever we have the time. If that works out, Cal might be able to shadow some doctors she knows at emergency or hospice care.” Ted grinned charmingly. “Thanks for putting in a good word for him.” “I was glad to do it. I know Cal’s been really down since work in Dr. Serba’s research lab started to dry up.” “Yeah. I thought I might find something for him in our lab, but... that wasn’t working out.” Scott was watching their conversation curiously. All of this was news to Scott, and he didn’t particularly enjoy being out of the loop. Of course, Jean was under no obligation to give him play-by-play on the goings on at her lab, but he caught himself bristling when Ted called it “our” lab. Strange, that bothered him, more than the flirting. Of course, he had no doubt Jean could handle herself in the face of a little unsolicited flirting. But if Scott had expected Jean to respond with polite but firm disinterest, that wasn’t really happening either. Scott couldn’t help noting that Jean was making a steady stream of excuses rather than turning Ted down outright (she had an early morning tomorrow... catching a train back to see her folks...). Scott casually turned in his seat to face Ted. “Oh– hey– Sorry, Scott. Didn’t see you there.” Clearly not. Pretty obvious. All his attention was on flirting with Jean. Jean remained just as reluctant to agree to go out with them later, even after Ted expanded the party invitation to include Scott. After that, Ted started to wrap up his pitch before Jean had much of a chance to pull Scott into the conversation. “Alright. I’ll see you around the lab then, Jean.” His buddies had already gotten their food orders, losing any remaining interest in Ted’s romantic exploits. “Later, Scott,” Ted added before rejoining his other friends. Suddenly Scott was feeling nothing but insecure. On top of everything else that had happened to him today, he abruptly realized that Ted could take Jean away from him, and Scott had no way of stopping that. It was a stupid burst of jealousy, brought on by the sudden realization that he needed her in his life way more than he was comfortable with; that emotion shamed him. And he had just as suddenly run out of patience for trying to parse Jean’s intentions on the night. “So, this guy, Ted.... Is he okay?” Scott asked. “I mean, if you’re going out with him–” Jean, predictably, reacted defensively to his prying. “Who says I’m going out with him?” “With the way he was angling you, I’d say he thinks you are,” Scott responded. “Well, he’d be wrong about who I’m going out with,” Jean retorted. Scott shrugged nonchalantly. “He seems okay. Good guy; he’ll probably make a nice doctor.” Scott caught himself remembering Elaine’s opinions with that last comment. As much as her mother’s interference annoyed Jean, Scott couldn’t help but agree with the underlying intent: Jean deserved everything she wanted and more. Scott could offer friendship – and he would always do that – but sooner or later Jean would have to see it too. She deserved more. “Regardless of my mother’s outdated opinions, I did not come to school to find a husband – doctor or otherwise – and I have far too much to do to waste time on dating and frat parties.” Scott shrugged again. “You don’t have to go out. You’ll be seeing him around the lab,” Scott echoed Ted’s parting pass. It seemed painfully obvious to Scott where this was going, given Ted’s persistence and Jean’s reluctance to tell him, “no”. It was just a matter of timing then. “So, what? I’m supposed to give up any semblance of an independent life just to avoid unsolicited passes– give me a break!” Jean gave a “huff” in frustration and abruptly got to her feet, leaving Scott scrambling to quickly pay the bill and follow after her. At least he’d managed to change the subject from Ted... but Scott clearly heard Jean saying, she didn’t have time for him either. No time to waste on frivolous things like movie nights; of course, this was too good to last. He would expect Ted to move in, given his proximity. Why shouldn’t he, and why on Earth should Scott be jealous of that?! He didn’t have a claim on Jean or any right to ask one of her. He couldn’t possibly offer her anything that Ted couldn’t. They walked back to her dorm in silence. Once there, Scott offered a sheepish, “Goodnight, Jean.” She glared at him briefly, then walked up the front stairs. And now he’d made Jean angry enough to get him the silent treatment.... Good move, Summers. Hopefully her anger would blow over by the morning; he realized belatedly that he’d been looking forward to seeing John and Elaine Grey tomorrow. “You still want me to meet you here tomorrow morning?” he called after her, before she could disappear inside. She turned to give him another scathing look. “You figure it out, hot shot.” Well... that wasn’t a “no”... or more silent treatment. The door closed behind her and Scott started back toward his own dorm... feeling dejected. Really facing for the first time the possibility that Jean would find someone and he would have to step back and let her go. If not now, then it would happen at some point in the not too distant future. Scott had gotten used to filling an oversized role in Jean’s life. At the Institute he was her go-to guy; there, they were each other’s support system. But here he was just another guy wanting her attention. He was reminded of Emory’s earlier assumption, when Scott had told him about spending the holidays with Jean’s family. Instead of wondering if Emory might have the truth of it, he just latched on to deeper worries. If and when Jean found someone she really wanted to take home to her parents, whatever connections Scott had formed with the Greys would probably have to fall by the wayside as well. It seemed he was always losing things before he got a handle on really having them in the first place.... He’d be back here tomorrow morning anyway.