-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 12
-X-
Last Call
Saturday Morning.
In the early hours of Saturday morning, a fairly alcohol-soaked Ted Roberts was walking back to his apartment from frat row following a night out. When he distractedly bumped into a homeless man on the street, he paused and reflexively dug into his coat pocket for a few bucks. “Sorry, pal,” he said as he offered the cash. The man made no move to take his money. The scruffy-looking, rough-shaven young man with a cigarette hanging loosely from his lip put an arm around Ted’s shoulder. Ain’t got a’thing stronger?” he asked with a wheezy grin. Ted instinctively tried to keep moving. Instead of leaning on him more heavily, drunkenly, the man’s stride fell in easily to match Ted’s. That bump hadn’t been an accident. It wasn’t a mugging either. Ted realized that when his gaze settled on the man’s shoes and his fuzzy brain noted that only the overcoat looked scruffy. The shoes underneath were expensive ones. “Walk with me, kid.” They rounded the next block and Ted immediately recognized his surroundings. A couple of his frat brothers had once killed a Friday night trying and repeatedly failing to sneak themselves into this place on a bet. He was now standing in front of the old speakeasy building that doubled as a public-facing social hall for the Hellfire Club. Ted turned to look his companion full on in the face. He was already looking less scruffy but decidedly more dangerous in the new light. For a moment Ted wished for something as simple as a mugging. “Let’s step inside, Mr. Roberts,” the man made a suggestion that wasn’t really a suggestion. Maybe it was an invitation, but his arm was also still snugly fitted around Ted’s shoulder. Ted knew he was in trouble as they walked up the steps. Inside the club, the earlier evening’s crowd had thinned out considerably, diners and dancers had given way to a few couples still having late night cocktails and a scattering of barflies at tables throughout the room. Ted stood at the bar beside his handler, took a polite sip at the drink offered to him, and waited to learn why he was here. He assumed straightforward corporate espionage. A shakedown for information. Ralph had warned him about that sort of thing... and there was absolutely nothing else of value Ted possessed that would even get him through the front door of this place on any given Friday night. Ralph had warned him repeatedly to keep his nose clean: follow rules at the lab, don’t take stupid risks. Ted thought he had done a good job of it– mostly. In fact, before tonight, he’d thought Ralph was thoroughly overreacting. He’d thought his brother had worked too long for Brand, read too many spy novels, or both. He’d doubted anyone would care about college students’ research, even on a high profile experiment like the Human Genome Project. He had assumed wrongly. His companion started the conversation with an overly friendly, curious tone that only managed to raise hackles on the back of Ted’s neck. “What do you think the police would find, were they to be called to the Brand Annex right now?” Ted didn’t offer an answer, though he suspected he could venture an accurate guess. Of course, it was impossible that one person could be in two places at once. Ted, clearly, was not at the lab tonight. “Get to the point. What do you want? What am I trading for your silence?” Even as he said it, Ted was aware: there were a lot of witnesses to his activities tonight. It would take no effort at all (for someone motivated to do so) to prove that Ted wasn’t where he said he was, or where he was supposed to be. “We’ll want a few specifics. We’ll be in touch later to tell you what we need from you. Then you’ll make a drop off when and where we say to. Don’t think you can outsmart us; I promise you, security feeds don’t lie.” He motioned to cameras in the club surrounding them for emphasis. Ted suppressed a curse as he immediately thought of similar cameras at the Annex. Now he was completely boxed in. “And the police tend to jump when we call them with our security concerns,” his handler concluded. “Do we have an agreement?” Ted nodded. His mouth felt dry. He downed the drink set in front of him and walked out. Before tonight he’d doubted anyone would care enough to notice his comings or goings. He should have known better. He wished he’d listened to Ralph. Kept his nose clean. Back at the bar, Jason Wyngarde sat down beside Regan. “You know, I could do that job with my eyes closed,” the younger of the two insisted. “I know. Basic rule of espionage, especially of the corporate variety – and especially true within the Hellfire Club: Always use up the pawns first.” “But the pawns are unskilled, that makes them dangerous.” “That’s why they’re pawns; the danger doesn’t matter to us. They’re expendable. And speaking of, what about the Hodge boy? He still on track?” “Yeah. Made the latest adjustment for Bocklin, as instructed.” Jason nodded. “I have another task for you along those lines. While you’re at it, you can remove some bugs that were placed earlier tonight.” “What were Xavier’s minions sniffing around for?” Regan asked after being brought up to speed on the next task. “Investigate that if you like, but my task first– easiest to go through the family.” Jason motioned across the room, toward a small table where Lord Maxwell Hodge was having drinks with Burton Worthington. “The uncle already has an ax to grind with his brother’s family, and a lot of debt due from a gambling habit. Ask him anything you want about the nephew; you won’t find any family loyalties that money can’t buy off.” “Understood.”
-x-
Ted got back to his apartment, locked the door, and quickly checked all the rooms– found them empty, as expected. He picked up the phone and called Ralph. After he’d told Ralph everything he could remember about the last hour he hung up and dialed another number. “I’m sorry to call so late– but, can I see you tonight? It’s important.”
-x-
Across campus, in the Brand Annex, Calvin Rankin was in the lab running blood samples. This was the project he expected would jump-start his career in medical research. Cal had successfully merged Dr. Myles Waren’s cloning technology with Dr. Anthony Serba’s nuclear medicine cancer diagnostics... the next step in the process was a treatment for blood cancers. At least Cal had thought it was, until Dr. Waren traded away the rights to his cloning technology to Brand... and subsequent work in Dr. Serba’s lab ground to a halt. Cal wasn’t going to be shut down. “You know you’re not supposed to be here at this hour; the Annex should be closed.” Cal looked up to see Ralph Roberts standing in the doorway. “I’m not trespassing. I have special permission.” Cal produced a letter as proof. “I doubt that’s going to matter much if someone calls the cops– I assume that signature’s legit?” Cal nodded. “I went straight to Dr. Lykos after Dr. Serba told us the lab was cycling down and I talked him into giving me more time. He signed off on it, short-term. I told him I just needed a few more weeks to finish my project.” Neither made note of the fact that all of that had happened months ago now. “He didn’t clear it with Brand.” “No. Brand revoked my access after the break, when they closed Dr. Serba’s lab.” “So you figured you could still get in and out using Ted’s access?” “I wasn’t willing to go quietly. The work is too important to just let them shut me down.” Ralph shook his head. “You had a promising project going here, building out of Waren’s work. But what you’re doing now is sloppy and just plain stupid. You’re putting yourself, and Ted, and now me too, at risk, Cal. For what? I told you, Brand can help you see this project through, it’ll just take a little time– Anthony Serba is negotiating a contract with Brand, even as we speak.” “And I told you, I don’t trust Brand with a discovery like this. Besides, I don’t have years to wait on patents and marketing when this research can save lives now– and there are patients who don’t have that kind of time to spare.” “It’ll all be for nothing if it lands you in jail, gets you kicked out of school, or both.” “I know what I’m doing. I watch the camera changes. Only one of us in view at a time. Nobody’s breaking any laws of physics here,” he grinned. Ralph winced. “Ted wasn’t as lucky. He was seen, and caught on camera.” Cal’s face fell. “By whom?” “Some Hellfire goon nabbed him off the street on his way home. Trying to shake him down for Brand info.” “He okay?” Cal had gone pale as a ghost. “He’s fine. Shaken up. And worried about keeping you out of trouble. That’s why I’m here... and I’d like to get out of here, now, before we end up explaining this to the police.” Ralph turned to go. Cal caught his arm. “There’s something else. I don’t think it was an accident– that they knew where I was. I think someone is keeping tabs on lab workers–” “That is exactly the sort of thing I warned you and Ted about– you should have come to me, immediately!” Ralph hissed. “I thought it was probably Brand– and it was probably better for everybody if I didn’t know that. So I didn’t tell anybody, not even Ted.” “Okay. You thought it was Brand. Just– tell me the details.” “Something weird showed up on the scintigraphy scans. I didn’t know what to make of it at first, but then I remembered your stories about Brand’s keeping your fingerprints on file... and I remembered the whole battery of medical tests we went through before Brand would let us work in the labs... and I thought– maybe this was an upgrade?” Ralph rubbed his face tiredly. “Just– show me what you found.” Cal led the way into the nuclear scintigraphy room and showed Ralph the test results he’d saved to a lab computer. “This one was taken the night of the lab shutdown. This one is more... recent.” “By recent I assume you mean, tonight. You do know, ‘ongoing’ research is the opposite of ‘wrapping up’ and ‘short-term’?” Cal gave him an innocent, if slightly chagrined, look. “What do you think?” “It’s not Brand– at least it doesn’t look like anything I’m familiar with.” “If I hadn’t been scanning myself, as a last resort, after my project fell through, I wouldn’t have known. I even thought they might have cut my project on purpose because I figured them out, or to keep me from....” Ralph shook his head. “The Serba lab shut down had nothing to do with you, or even the research. Just Maddicks playing hardball with Serba over terms; it’ll blow over. I told you that at the time; I can see you didn’t listen to me.” He paged back and forth between the two scans. “Whatever this thing is, it’s rapidly degrading; if you hadn’t inadvertently tagged it with research technetium, it wouldn’t be visible at all.” “I assumed it was a tracking sensor at first, just a low tech microchip. But the white blood cells are attacking it and breaking it down over time. It must be at least partially organic in nature.” Ralph fell silent. “What do you think?” “No way to know for sure what it is, or what it does, without removing it– you just volunteered for that procedure.” Cal swallowed hard. “Who’s gonna do that?” Ralph grinned. “I know a guy.”
-x-
A short time later, a cab pulled up outside the Coffee A Go-Go in Greenwich Village. “Beat poetry–” Cal read the sign in the window. “Forget the right place, is this the right decade?” “Cal–” Ralph warned. “I’ll shut up.” Cal had a tendency to get mouthy when he was nervous. Ralph led Cal inside, through the closed nightclub, and upstairs to Vera’s apartment. To her great credit, Vera was no more phased by having Hank set up a makeshift surgery suite at her kitchen table than she had been by having their earlier evening interrupted by Ralph’s call. Hank quickly dressed Cal’s arm, applied a local anesthetic, made a small incision, and about ten minutes later Cal was all bandaged up. The whole thing was over in less than half an hour. Then they were taking turns studying the biochip under Vera’s portable microscope. “How you holding up, Cal?” Vera asked. Cal nodded and sipped at the glass of juice she’d given him, frankly wishing it contained something stronger. He was starting to feel a little shocky. Not from the procedure; that biochip was tiny and barely lodged under the skin. There was no more trauma in removing it than in digging out a stubborn splinter. But it was utterly surreal that an hour ago he’d been working in the lab and now he was at the center of a spying plot, having had a tracking chip pulled out of his arm by two folks dressed like they’d just come home from a night at the opera. Under the microscope, Hank removed the biochip’s internal sensor from its rapidly disintegrating outer casing with a tiny set of tweezers, then washed it in a saline rinse before placing it under the scope again. “Is it Brand’s?” Ralph asked. “No. Safe to say, Hellfire Club is working either with or for an outside competitor.” Hank paused, recovering perhaps from having said too much. “May I keep this for further study?” Ralph agreed. “Don’t I get a say? It was in my arm!” “You get to keep the arm,” Ralph retorted, ushering Cal toward the door. “Come on, it’s late. We need to get you back to your apartment and out of Ms. Cantor’s hair. Thanks, Vera,” Ralph added. “Thanks, Ms. Cantor,” Cal echoed. Hank kissed the top of her head. “Indebted, as always, Vera.” “One of these days, I call in all of your chips, Hank McCoy– no pun intended.” She stifled a giggle. “Indubitably,” Hank replied with a smile and a tip of his hat as he followed Ralph and Cal out.
-x-
It was nearly dawn by the time Ralph dropped him off and Cal walked into the apartment he shared with Ted. Both of them tried to apologize to each other at roughly the same time. Then Ted mumbled, “Just shut up,” and hugged him. Cal hugged tightly back.
-x-
Later. Saturday Morning.
Sometimes Scott wished there was something to fight. But in this case, he didn’t run and he didn’t fight; the sinking feeling in his gut told him it was useless either way. Nothing he could do would improve matters for him; he could only make the beating worse... or maybe he simply didn’t want to believe that he’d found himself back here all over again. That was when Scott was startled awake. He stifled a curse and fell back against his pillow, catching his breath and waiting for his heartbeat to return to normal. It was light out already. He rolled over and reached for his watch; he’d overslept, but not too badly. Still enough time to get in a quick shower if he got moving right now. Good thing he’d packed an overnight bag before bed last night. In the shower a few minutes later, his thoughts remained in the past. Even as a small kid at the Home, he’d been able to hold his own in a fight. But there were always times when fighting didn’t help. The fight couldn’t be won, respect couldn’t be earned, escape couldn’t be found. He’d never been keen on taking abuse, but if it couldn’t be avoided he would take the beating. The boys who bullied at the Home hadn’t been much different from those on the streets, jockeying for power and territory; both were about dominance, like a pack of wolves simultaneously establishing an internal pecking order and protecting its territory from outsiders. Those kinds of fights hadn’t bothered him so much. The way he’d lived while working with Jack had been more difficult. When it came to getting the cooperation he wanted, Winters had beaten, bullied, and threatened as often as he had persuaded. Scott had never been foolish enough to think that Jack cared about him in any way directly unrelated to what Scott could do for Winters’ benefit. And yet the feeling of betrayal still stung. It hurt far worse when the beating came from somebody you felt you couldn’t walk away from. You got paranoid, looking for warning signs, never knowing what was going to set off the next round of anger or make you its target. Jack had smacked Scott around simply because he could; it didn’t have to make sense, and Scott had stopped expecting for it to. Standing under the hot water, he remembered what Jean had said to him last night. She’d more or less absolved him of the old guilt, unwilling to judge the decisions he’d made back then: a kid trying to survive the streets. Scott wished he could do the same for himself. Under all those bad decisions, there was a simple question that he didn’t know how to properly ask or answer. Why? Why had he allowed this to happen? Accepted it, justified it to himself– repeatedly? The question scared him. Was it weakness? Was he damaged? Or was it some deeper character flaw he couldn’t explain? That last possibility worried him more than all the rest because it implied faulty judgment... and that was the one flaw he couldn’t afford. Not if he was going to ask and expect other people, including those closest to him, to put their lives in his hands.
-x-
“You two must have had fun at the movies, I didn’t hear you come in last night,” Ororo told Jean, complete with wagging Marx-style eyebrows. Jean laughed at the latter. Hank had helped Jean correct her previous oversight in humor and culture with some well-placed Groucho Marx movie selections over the break, and Ro seemed happy to now be in on that particular joke. “I’ll have to catch you up on last night’s movie when we get back tomorrow. Scott’s coming home for the weekend with me– I think. If he’s not still acting like a blockhead.” Ororo listened to a brief recap of last night’s non-movie drama while Jean packed an overnight bag. “I notice you didn’t mention Ted’s previous offers.” “That’s because there’s nothing to tell. I turned him down, with reason.” Ororo only shrugged. “You said you were too busy.” “And I am– for a date.” “But not for a movie with Scott.” “I see what you’re doing, Ro; stop it.” Ororo only chuckled softly. Scott knew what he was doing too. He might not call it a date either, but he was deliberately getting Jean out of the lab for a few hours. “A movie with Scott is the opposite of a date.” It was stress relief, a bit of normal life in the middle of college chaos. Something they used to do all the time together at the mansion. If Jean was feeling overworked, or if she was struggling with her focus, Scott would offer to take her to a late movie, let her get her mind off things and just relax for a little while. The distraction always lifted her mood, and his too. Last night things had just been a little, off.... “As long as he thinks the problem is no more than your schedule, Ted will keep asking. And Scott will be left to wonder why you won’t say either yes or no.” Jean sat down on the edge of the bed. “Why is this so complicated?” For a moment there Jean envied last night’s silly romantic movie plot, especially the part where they had everything sorted out by the end of the film. “Why am I so damn afraid to rock the boat?!” Ororo shrugged. “Certainly, there is risk, but neither of you need be afraid of risk. More to the point, you know Scott. He is not going to make this easy for you, but you also know he’s worth the effort and worth the risk.” Jean shook her head warily. “What if he doesn’t want me to feel that way about him? What if I mess up with him and completely wreck our friendship over this? I don’t think I could stand to lose him, Ro.” That old argument still stood on its own merit, or maybe it was her own insecurities. Jean also vividly remembered the full-blown panic attack she’d witnessed yesterday. Scott kept so much bottled up inside himself, sometimes it made him feel trapped in his own head. The last thing she wanted was to add to that with more emotional baggage that he didn’t know how to handle.
-x-
Grey Home. Annandale-on-Hudson.
“You want me in the kitchen?” Jean responded, giving a look of incredulous shock at her mother’s request. “Please.” Elaine waved off her daughter’s orchestrated shock. “Who taught you how to cook in this kitchen? You know it’s only off-limits on holidays, and even then, it’s okay if I invite you in, like a vampire– wait, that would make you the vampire–” Elaine shook her head, flustered. “You know what I mean.” Jean laughed. “What do you want me to do, Mom?” “I’m feeling nostalgic. I want to make old family recipes while I chat with my youngest daughter.” “Okay,” Jean readily agreed. She helped Elaine gather ingredients while Elaine told family recipe origin stories. Then they worked in silence for a bit. “Which cat has your tongue?” Jean shook her head and settled on the easiest answer out of all the complications in her life. “Scott and I had an argument yesterday.” “Not a big one, I assume; he’s here today.” “No, nothing big. That’s just it– it was nothing at all; I can’t help who asks me out when he’s around.” “Ah– a little jealousy, sounds like.” “No, he’s not asking me out.” “You’re already out with him, why should he think he needs to? Really, Jean!” Jean laughed. “Okay, I see your point. But Scott’s not usually possessive or insecure. I worry there’s something else going on with him, something’s getting under his skin– I don’t know, I’m probably just over-analyzing things.” “Boys that age are all insecurity wrapped up in ego. On top of the world one minute, down in the gutter the next– I grew up in a house full of brothers, remember?” “Just– I like going out with Scott because he’s not all that– I mean, sometimes he drives me nuts because he can be so damn self-contained with what he’s feeling. But he’s also not constantly angling me or getting his ego ruffled because I didn’t stop what I was doing to fluff up his pride every five minutes, you know?” Elaine chuckled. “He’s just a good friend, good company; I hate arguing with him.” She laughed. “Even when he’s frustrating the hell out of me, I still hate it.” “So– Ted asked you out.” “Yeah. Ted asked me out– again. I wish that one had a little more insecurity and a little less ego.” Elaine laughed at that. “Ororo says I should just tell him, yes or no. She’s not wrong... but it’s not that simple either. Yes or no, I still have to work with him in the lab. That complicates things.” “Things don’t always work for Ororo the same way they do for everyone else.” It was Jean’s turn to laugh. “You’ve noticed that too?” “Of course I have, dear. Whatever happened to that boy she’s been seeing?” Jean shrugged. “Emory. He’s a friend.” “Does he know that?” “I think so,” Jean answered. The oven timer interrupted them. “You can go tell your father and Scott, the pot roast will be on the table in a few minutes. They can go get cleaned up for dinner now.” Jean poked her head into the garage to relay Elaine’s message. Her dad and Scott looked up from working on John’s motorcycle. That bike was her father’s pet project, he’d been working on it for as long as Jean could remember. He’d never been able to interest her or Sarah in it, likely because Elaine firmly forbade either of them from ever riding it. Message relayed, Jean returned to the kitchen to finish chopping vegetables for the salad. It was nice seeing Scott with her father, just working, talking, at ease with one another. Sometimes it snuck up on her, remembering that Scott had never had that relationship with his own father. Scott, who was such a good, kind person, such a loyal, unselfish friend. The unfairness of his loss was so big– sometimes Jean didn’t know what to do with that feeling. How did someone begin to overcome a deficit that big? It wasn’t just the lack of a father or a mother, it was missing an entire framework of caring and compassion, over most of his lifetime. “You know,” Elaine said, “this pot roast was my mother’s Sunday family dinner growing up, all through the Great Depression. Sometimes they didn’t have enough for one proper meal a day during the week, but they always had a roast on Sunday – what was in the roast... sometimes better not to ask – but I digress,” she added. “My parents’ generation, they knew what it was like to get by on next to nothing, and it’s not just doing without the basic necessities. People are surprisingly good at that sort of surviving. It’s absorbing the mentality of next to nothing, of worth and scarcity and insecurity. “You remember Gran and Pop, they lived in the same tiny house we all grew up in until they passed, God rest their souls. But every cent they made, they saved, and it went right back into their kids and later their grandkids. That feeling of having nothing, it sticks, even years later. Even when it’s not true anymore. You understand?” Jean nodded.
-x-
Saturday Night.
Sometimes Scott wished there was something to fight. Old instincts took over and Scott felt rooted in place by a combination of adrenaline and confusion. A slap to the face was an attention-getter, and Scott fully, instinctively, expected something harder to follow. It had been four months since he had left the streets behind him, but that reality came roaring back in an instant: the feeling of being just one person against the world, in a constant fight for survival. Then he remembered the one thing that was most different now. His glasses. No matter what else happened, the glasses had to stay on. His mind slowly processed facts more readily after that. This was different. He wasn’t on the streets anymore. Elaine wasn’t Jack. Elaine was always hugging him in greeting, or in thanks. Again, it didn’t make sense, but Elaine wasn’t Jack. He didn’t know why Elaine had done what she had done, but it hadn’t hurt him. She hadn’t hit him to hurt him, and she hadn’t meant it to threaten him either. Scott wasn’t in danger here. Here, he was the danger. He was the threat. That feeling had never hit him quite so acutely, or made him feel so intensely vulnerable. It was surreal. He knew full well what the other side of that equation felt like– he didn’t want to be the threat. After a tense couple of seconds, Elaine offered a weak smile, then continued on like nothing unusual had happened. Scott fled the room as soon as she turned away from him. He stood looking out the window from the Bogarts’ home. He knew he was getting too comfortable here and he didn’t care. Trisha Bogart was holding his face in her hands... trying to tell him not to lose hope... it scared him. There were only a handful of people in his life that Scott could remember treating him with that sort of kindness or compassion... and it seemed the good had a way of hurting more than the bad. Over the years he’d become adept at building up walls. Those walls blocked out the good as well as the bad; for a very long time he hadn’t wanted to let in anything or anyone. How could it possibly end up in anything but more loss? He was sick to death of more loss. And yet here he was, surrounded by a family that refused to give up on caring for him. He was looking out the window; I should have looked for her face instead. Jack was going to beat the absolute tar out of him; he could see that coming like a freight train. Clear as day. There was absolute blind, drunk rage in Jack’s eyes. Scott could run or he could fight. He did neither. Trisha’s hands were shaking. His mother’s hands were shaking. The plane was going down and there was nothing to do but hold on to his brother and jump for their lives. If only he could keep looking out that damn window.... There was nothing out there but rain. That was when Scott startled awake, gasping for breath, in a cold sweat. He turned over restlessly. Glasses secured in the crux of his elbow, one arm wrapped tightly around his head, he flopped face-down on his pillow. It didn’t matter what time it was. He wasn’t getting any more sleep tonight.
-x-
ESU. February.
“This is a terrible tradition! Beautiful flowers should not come cut and stuffed into boxes.” “Agreed.” Jean paused briefly to read the card before unpacking the half dozen roses inside. Of course they were a Valentine’s Day offering from Ted. “I’ll have to put them into water before they can wilt.” “Let me take care of that!” Ororo scooped up the roses and set about trying to save them from their unkind fate. Jean sighed. “They are pretty though.” Ororo glanced in her direction. “Not that that changes anything,” Jean amended, shaking her head. Truthfully, she was tempted by Ted’s ongoing pursuit. The attention, flattery – the romance of it – that felt nice, it felt new and exciting. It also scared her. “Afraid you might actually like Ted?” Ororo teased. “Or afraid Scott might decide to compete for the honor of your company?” “More afraid he might decide to just let go, I think,” Jean confessed. She didn’t want to give up on Scott. Ororo gave a shrug as she finished tucking the roses securely into a vase and added water. “It’s all in the timing; if the time is not right for Scott, then maybe you should give Ted a try.” “I won’t go out with Ted just to make Scott jealous!” “Not jealous, exactly,” Ororo countered. “Perhaps he just needs be given a clear choice. If he doesn’t wish to express his own interest in enjoying your company, someone else certainly will.” Jean scowled. Ororo only smiled; she had never seen two more complementary equals. Yin and yang. Truly two halves of one greater whole, evenly suited to one another’s strengths and weaknesses alike. For all their stubborn reluctance, Scott and Jean would have to realize that simple truth eventually.
-x-
“What’d I miss?” Scott whispered as he slid into a chair beside Ororo for their Challenges in Childhood Education class. She wordlessly slid over a page of notes on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs as it applied to childhood education. She had bullet-pointed: Physiological. Safety. Belonging. Esteem. Self-Actualism. He’d missed a lot. Scott was still catching up on this morning’s notes when Jean joined him and Ororo at lunch. “What happened to you this morning?” Jean asked. “Overslept.” He quickly changed the subject, addressing Ororo. “Karl Lykos was your advisor last semester. What’d you think of him?” Ororo shrugged. “Hard to say. I only spoke to him for advising sessions.” “Xavier thought he was okay when he met the guy. And Hank worked with him before.” “Yes. What’s your point?” “I was thinking of asking him about hypnotherapy.” Jean was momentarily shocked into silence. “Are you serious? Hypnotherapy? Scott, that’s not science, it’s quack medicine.” “Look at our lives, Jean. I’m willing to think outside the box a little. Besides, what’s the worst thing that can happen? It’s not brain surgery. If it’s a waste of time, I’ll leave.” Scott grinned. “Unless he hypnotizes me and I can’t leave.” Ororo snickered. Jean was not amused. Still convinced this was a bad idea (and an offense to legitimate psychiatric medicine), she finished her lunch and left for the Brand Annex in a huff. Scott frowned. “Maybe Jean’s right, maybe this is a stupid idea. What do I want to sit in some creepy office and talk to a head-shrinker about my dreams for?” “Then why suggest it at all?” Ororo asked calmly. Scott sighed. “I’ve hated going to doctors since I was a little kid. But something’s got to give here, Ro. It’s been a month or more since I actually slept through the night; I’m oversleeping my classes now. Even Shang-Chi is telling me, my head’s not right.” “Dr. Lykos is lecturing classes at the ESU Natural History Museum this semester. What if I go with you to meet him after his lecture tomorrow and introduce you to him. If you don’t feel comfortable, we can leave without ever discussing hypnotherapy or going to his office.” Scott nodded. “Thanks.” “And you should probably clarify to Jean that you don’t prefer pseudo-science to her chosen profession?” “Yeah. I’ll do that too.”