-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 16
-X-
Spring Breaks
John Grey was waiting to pick them up, as usual, when Scott, Ororo, and Jean stepped off the train at Poughkeepsie. Scott helped him load their bags into the trunk before joining Ororo in the back, allowing Jean to sit up front with her father. John turned the car radio down to background level as they drove, but news reports from the Bard student radio station still broke in steadily with updates on the situation at ESU. Apparently Gyrich and Hodge had different spring break plans from most of the rest of the student body, and their protests had moved from the quad over to the Brand Annex this evening. Jean did her best to either ignore that or change the subject. She was eager to get John’s input on what she called the real news of the day: the new NYCC-ESU clinical education partnership, and Brand’s yet-to-be publicly announced research partnership with the Serba Lab, pursuing emerging and infectious disease research. John was already well aware of the latter development, considering it fell within his own teaching specialty at Bard. John was also clearly proud, and that showed through as he and Jean were able to converse more and more fluently as medical colleagues as her education progressed. But with the situation at ESU only appearing to become more chaotic – particularly around the ESU-Brand partnership and the ongoing Human Genome Project – John’s periodic reminders to Jean that she could always transfer to Bard had taken on steadily less of a joking tone as the semester had progressed. By the time they arrived home, John had gotten a full update on the conclusion of Dr. MacTaggert’s lecture series (minus today’s interruption by protestors, already covered on the radio news). After that, they hardly had opportunity to drop their bags in their rooms before Elaine was happily fussing over them, certain they were too tired or too thin, and insisting that they all sit down for dinner right away and eat as many helpings of everything as they could possibly hold. Over dinner, Jean did fish around a bit for more info on the history of her great-grandmother’s necklace. But John had nothing more to offer on the subject than a few family stories and some melancholy musings on how alike her great-grandmother Jean was. “Maybe too much alike,” John kidded, noting a shared knack for getting into childhood trouble. “Jean’s gotten a bit more like me and like my mother as she’s matured though, more sensible, my mother would say.” Jean was named after her paternal great-grandmother, though. They shared the same hair and eye color, unlike any others in Jean’s immediate family, and Jean had been born shortly after her great-grandmother’s passing. “I do wish you’d had the chance to get to know one another,” John concluded.... In the end, Jean was left to stand in her old bedroom, studying the gold and emerald necklace curiously, wondering if there was anything to it all... more than just a treasured family heirloom and bunch of equally old tall tales. Across the hall, in Sarah’s old room, Ororo sketched out a plan she’d been mulling over to convert her ruby stone to fit a centerpiece for a traditionally-styled African headdress. Down the end of the hall, in the Greys’ guest room, Scott settled in for the night feeling glad to be there and looking forward to tomorrow. Following a big dinner and a pleasant evening spent watching movies with Ororo, Jean, and the Greys, he was feeling well, whole, and more relaxed than he had felt in a long time as he changed for bed. He secured his sleep goggles into place with their elastic strap, then tucked his overnight bag away in the closet. He paused, deciding to take out the notebook he’d packed in the bottom of his bag. Hoping he wouldn’t need it tomorrow, he set the notebook out on the bedside nightstand anyway and carefully placed his regular glasses on top for the morning’s transition. Then he turned out the light and crawled under the covers, hoping for a much-needed peaceful night’s sleep.
-x-
Jean had been dreaming, just a silly hodgepodge of dreams: all the thought, image, and emotion concocted by a tired mind trying to catalog the day’s experiences.... Then, suddenly, she found herself back at the scene of the car crash– feeling herself wrenched away from her body, her life. Wrenched away from human existence. Everything went white around her; she hated that place. She’d fought her way out before, refusing to be trapped here. She’d chosen to stay with Annie through the blackness instead. Holding on to Annie. But Annie was gone and Jean was not. That thought jarred her loose from whatever else had gripped her: the sudden awareness that something was not right here. Then, just as suddenly, she was standing in the Grey family’s front yard. The screeching of brakes and an awful thud echoed in her ears, rushing with the horror of that sound, the terror of her own heartbeat drumming in her ears. But this was not Jean’s horror, not her mind.... There was wailing on the other side of the door, in contrast to a nearby, unnervingly steady beeping. “We rushed them both to the hospital,” Elaine repeated helplessly, struggling to understand, unable to fully grasp the randomness of their losses. Annie was gone. And Jean.... Jean began to gradually realize the manipulation as she bounced from one nightmarish reality to another. It was hell to be trapped in your own mind, unable to help yourself, reliving your own worst experiences. Professor Xavier had saved her from that helpless fate. He had trained her to face her own worst fears and challenged her to master her own mind. Now she could use her own strength to help others. She had to fight through the white space again but Jean followed the beeping, back to the hospital room where her father now sat, holding Jean’s hand. John, Elaine, and Sarah all looked shell-shocked. Sarah angrily shoved a stack of papers aside before Elaine could put pen to paper to sign them. Jean could see her sister’s rage, at odds with their mother’s helpless misery, but it was her father’s feelings that she felt: a crippling depression; he couldn’t make the decision, couldn’t let go, couldn’t move forward. John kept remembering the conversation he’d had with Annie’s parents... then the endless feeling of the drive to pick Sarah up from camp, the worst moments of his life– until this one. Until now. Slowly, Jean realized his pain was the most real here. She was in his nightmare. Elaine made ready to sign the papers. Sarah, unable to stop it and unable to watch, ran from the room in tears. John couldn’t do anything to help either of them. The better angels of his nature seemed to have abandoned him. Where had they gone? His objectivity and grace under pressure... he had always been proud to possess an almost supernatural sense of calm rationality in times of deepest crisis. It all seemed to have fled from him now. He felt utterly empty and useless in the face of his youngest daughter’s helpless fate. For the first time in his life, he felt paralyzed between what he knew in his mind had to be done and what his heart would not allow... could not accept. John knew in his gut that Elaine would do what he couldn’t because he couldn’t do it. John kept holding Jean’s hand. Despite knowing what needed to happen now, despite knowing it was the only option left to them, he felt physically ill, emotionally distraught, utterly exhausted... torn between hope and despair. Jean put her arms around his shoulders and held tight, reminding him of the truth: he was not trapped in this moment. This moment would pass. Xavier was only a phone call away. He would help them. Everything was going to be alright.... No sooner did his nightmare fade from her mind than Jean became aware of another. It felt like a bad amusement park ride, violently jerking her from one horror to the next. Back through the blinding rush of white space, Elaine sat beside a grave. John’s grave. She was alone there and she knew that was her own damn fault. She’d pushed them all away. Sarah was living her own life, married to Paul with their children. Happy, despite her mother’s long-standing disapproval. Jean and Scott, likewise, were teachers at Xavier’s school, and unconcerned with Elaine Grey’s approval or disapproval for their life choices. Long ago, Elaine had made her daughters choose and they had rightfully chosen their lives over hers, leaving Elaine a lonely, bitter, sad old woman with no one left to care for.... As she had with her father, Jean hugged her mother, pulling her back from the nightmare reality, gently waking her from sleep.... And this time, likewise, waking herself from sleep. The transitory white space became a room of pure white light, surrounding her. It shone around Jean in blinding rays, like sun breaking through the night sky at dawn. There was just an instant in that place, that other reality, before the light could burst through completely. Jean sat up in her bed, instinctively increasing the psychic shielding around herself, fully taking in the fact that this circumstance was not accidental. They were under attack. Jean threw back the covers, now wide awake and fully alert. She raced across the hall to Ororo. Ororo, likewise, was fighting her own mind. Her efforts were more successful than those of Jean’s parents. Jean was not surprised to find that Ororo’s nightmares involved dark and close spaces... and each time she tried to free herself she was met with a new round of chaos, pressing in on her in the darkness. Jean redoubled her own efforts at psychic defense, shielding Ororo’s mind from further attack. Within a few moments Ororo was able to free herself. Jean allowed her friend a moment of triumph, surrounded by her beloved blue skies and the joyful exultation of freeing herself, before Jean pulled Ororo fully awake. “Jean!” Ororo hugged her friend gratefully. Like Jean, Ororo was aware of the unreal nature of her previous surroundings. She and Jean spoke telepathically as Jean’s shielding further encompassed them. From within the bubble of Jean’s mental defenses, Ororo realized something was still very wrong an instant before they both winced. It wasn’t over yet; they were still under attack, though the attack seemed to have lost a great deal of its bite now that they were awake and more fully aware of their reality. “Can you help?” Ororo asked. “I’m– trying,” Jean responded through gritted teeth. Scott’s projected panic was intense. “I– can’t– get– through– to him.” That was intolerable. She could feel Scott’s distress but was unable to reach him like she had the others, unable even to breach his dreams. Scott’s innate mental defenses were formidable all on their own. But at the moment it felt as if the attack had refocused itself on Scott – she couldn’t tell if that was intentional or simply a result of his being the last one of them still vulnerable to attack. Right now it didn’t matter why. Jean was just as determined to help him as any force could be to attack him. She focused all her strength on her shielding and pushed outward as hard as she could, reinforcing the telepathic barriers surrounding them all. Then Jean gasped. “Go!” Ororo pushed her toward the door just as Jean felt a burst of sheer terror that was all too familiar to them: Scott without his glasses. The next thing she knew, Jean was rushing down the hall toward Scott’s room, Ororo right behind her.
-x-
The wind stung his watering eyes. Scott was falling. Their ruined parachute having completely given way, Scott held his brother as tightly as he could and watched the ground rush closer with frightening speed. He was filled with a mixture of horror and denial, his mind racing frantically as he prayed for some way, any way, to slow their disastrous fall. Through all of that, Scott murmured reassurances. “I’ve got you, Alex. Don’t be afraid.” It was all he could do. He kept telling Alex it would be all right, and not to look down... but he was helpless to prevent the coming impact. “I’m counting on you to take care of your brother, Scott. Stay together, no matter what, and wait for help to come.” Scott nodded unconsciously as he remembered his mother’s instructions to him before she’d had him and Alex jump from the plane. Hands trembling, she’d strapped the two of them into the only working parachute they’d had left. “Don’t worry about us; we’ll find you once we’re all on the ground.” Scott could still hear her voice, vivid in his mind. Scott had known she was scared; he was scared too, but by unspoken agreement neither of them were going to let that show. They had to be brave. She repeated final instructions for Scott, then she kissed him and Alex, and she smiled as she told them that she and their father loved them more than anything. In spite of the circumstances, her voice was gentle and reassuring. She could just as easily have been tucking them in for bed. Instead she was pushing them out of a crashing plane. “Scott! Make it stop! I don’t like falling. Please– make it stop.” “Just hold on, Alex. I’ll protect you, I swear.” Alex clung to him tighter. Scott made the promise instinctively; he could hear the fear and panic in his little brother’s desperate plea, and Scott meant his promise. But he had no idea how he could possibly protect either of them from the fast-moving ground below or the trees that were reaching for them. He just held on to his brother for all he was worth. His eyes smarted painfully as the wind tore at them, but Scott couldn’t even blink. He stared desperately at the ground closing in on them, only seconds away. Then a thick, red fog blanketed his vision, obscuring the coming impact. Scott knew that the red fog was a visualization of his optic blasts. They slowed his fall as they pulverized the trees and gouged into the ground below them. But Scott felt no relief, only continued horror. He also knew the blasts were uncontrollable. And then, as in dreams, the scene shifted, circumstances changed. He was no longer a scared seven year-old, but a defiant, street-wise fifteen year-old. His eyes smarted painfully and it felt like his head was going to split open, but he stubbornly ignored that to focus himself on this moment. Scott had tried to get the Bogarts out of this mess between him and Jack Winters before they could get hurt, but they had refused to leave while Scott was still in danger. Now the danger was worse. Scott’s only remaining options were desperate ones. He pivoted and grabbed Jack’s wrist, trying to wrestle the gun from his grip, but Scott was no match for Jack Winters. “Wrong move, Slim,” Jack taunted, his voice clipped with anger. Jack slugged him, sending Scott down hard to the floor. His eyes were tightly closed in an effort to control the already excruciating pain in his head, but he could feel Trisha Bogart’s hands shaking as she helped him up. All the while she was offering reassurances. Scott shuddered. Shaking hands and a gentle, reassuring voice... it felt too familiar, and he was viscerally, irrationally scared. Trisha called Richard’s name, alarmed. Richard called back for them to get out. A shot rang out, and then another... and the two of them were left lying dead on the floor of their home. Stunned and numb, Scott dropped to his knees between the two bodies. Pain seemed to explode inside him. He threw back his head to scream in agony and grief... but the pain erupted from his eyes in a blast of pure optic force. The house started to fall in around him. Again, as in dreams, the scene began to shift. He was no longer in the Bogarts’ home. He could hear voices and footsteps converging on him. Part of him knew he was in the Greys’ home even before he heard Jean’s voice calling his name, but the nightmare reality hadn’t entirely finished with him. In his mind the optic blasts were still out of control. He knew he should have been able to close his eyes to stop the blasts... but somehow he couldn’t. He thought of the Greys, of Jean and Ororo, afraid he would destroy them all... just like with the Bogarts. He couldn’t stop it. Without the glasses he would destroy everything, leaving only broken pieces of his world to fall in all around him.
-x-
Jean rushed down the hall, pausing only a moment to glance at her father’s worried face and disheveled appearance when he stepped out into the hall from her parents’ bedroom. Ororo, right behind her, paused a moment longer to murmur a reassurance before she followed Jean. The Grey parents followed after the both of them. Jean reached the guest bedroom at the end of the hall and pushed the door open, calling Scott’s name. He was awake and sitting up. “Jean, stay back!” he ordered, immediately looking away from the sound of her voice. His warning didn’t stop her from rushing inside. “Jean!” Elaine cried out, frightened by the tone of Scott’s warning. She and John had never heard Scott so much as raise his voice. Elaine wanted to grab Jean and pull her back, but she was caught up by Ororo. “It’s all right,” Ororo breathed, calmly securing her hold on both of Elaine’s arms. “Scott is in control,” she stated. Jean acted without stopping to think. She saw that Scott’s glasses had been knocked from the nightstand to the floor and quickly scooped them up on her way to him. “Easy, Scott.” He jerked his head away when he heard her approach. “Jean– Stay back– please!” His voice sounded panicked and desperate. He didn’t really expect Jean to comply; each of them knew the other better than that. “I have your glasses,” she breathed, carefully replacing them. Which was more than a little difficult to do; Scott kept looking away until she’d slid them onto his face. Then his hands covered hers. Jean could feel his hands shaking as he secured the glasses, but his face relaxed and his breathing started to steady. Then he slowly opened his eyes. The only light in the room was a flickering red glow now coming from behind Scott’s glasses. Elaine gasped. Scott winced and ducked his head. Immediately the room went dark again. Jean shifted her position, seated on the edge of the bed beside Scott, so that she further shielded him from view. She could hear Ororo trying to usher her mother out of the room. It was a good idea, but one Jean doubted would work. She ignored that complication for now. “It’s okay, Scott,” Jean whispered firmly. This time it wasn’t a panic attack, just a nightmare. There was no more danger. Nothing left to fear. Right now, he just needed assurance that it was over. They could worry about the bigger picture – what, or who, had caused this – later. He took a steadying breath. Scott was certain that it was safe to open his eyes again, at least physically; he wasn’t so sure about the rest. It scared him to imagine what Elaine and John would think of him in the wake of all this... seeing him for what he truly was. A danger to them and their family. If it would be enough to make them feel safe in his presence again, he would gladly keep his eyes closed. “It’s all right, Scott, I promise,” Jean whispered determinedly, so softly that only he could hear. Scott nodded, gathering himself. He knew where he was now and he knew what was real– in a way, that was exactly the problem. “It’s okay now,” Jean whispered once more, and his darkness lifted as Jean focused all of her attention on him. She didn’t care about anything else; it felt as though she wouldn’t be whole until he was able to lift his head and look at her. Scott cowering in the darkness of his own mind was completely unacceptable. He lifted his head slowly, letting Jean’s gentle presence pull him away from his pain and the mind-numbing terror. He could feel her strength and her determination guarding over him. And when he opened his eyes again her answering smile was reassuring. Scott stared back at her, wordlessly, for a couple of seconds. He felt so much gratitude in that moment; he wanted to thank her but couldn’t form the words. That was okay too. He could almost hear her saying, I know, Scott. It was John’s voice that broke the silence. “Well, since we’re all awake, I know I could use a cup of tea. Maybe a slice of that chocolate pie?” he suggested to Elaine. Elaine nodded, keen on any suggestion that would break up this scene and return them to something more normal. But she obviously wasn’t going anywhere without Jean. Scott swallowed hard and gave a nod. Only then did Jean retreat. Elaine slipped an arm around her daughter’s shoulder, eager to usher her and Ororo downstairs. Scott hadn’t moved, and Jean noticed that her father hadn’t either. Jean hesitated, until John smiled and nodded in reassurance. Jean gave one final glance back before she left her father alone with Scott. As he watched her walk calmly away, John caught himself remembering the way Jean had rushed toward Scott’s room. The memory made him shudder. He hadn’t seen that blank, empty, terrified expression reflected in his daughter’s eyes for a very long time. Scott ran a hand through his hair, nervously tousling it only to smooth it back again a second later. He was still slow to lift his head, hesitant to face John. But his composure was gradually returning, and John was glad for that. Glad to see Scott looking more like the strong young man John had gotten to know over the last few years... no longer a scared kid who didn’t know whom to trust. Scott stole a cautious look in John’s direction. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, “for making a scene, and for waking everyone.” “There’s nothing to apologize for.” John crossed the room to sit down beside him. “And it wasn’t just you,” he explained warily, “the nightmares happened to everyone else too.” That suspicious fact got Scott’s full and immediate attention. His first instinct was that he needed to talk to Jean and Ororo about that, as quickly as possible; they needed to figure out exactly what had happened to them tonight. Then he took a deep breath, refocusing. Whatever this was, Jean didn’t seem to think they were in any danger right now. He would talk to them as soon as he could, but there was no need to alarm John and Elaine any further. “They just seemed to affect you a little stronger than everybody else,” John added cautiously. “Oh. Great,” Scott breathed. “Reading between the lines, no one else woke the house screaming.” “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” John insisted. “A brave man faces his fears.” Scott snorted, giving a shake of his head. “How many times can you face the same set of fears before you’re just wallowing in them?” “You want to talk about it?” John offered. Then he stayed silent for long enough to let Scott gather himself, to let him decide. Scott hesitated. “Honestly?” he asked with a hint of skepticism, and the room dimmed when Scott closed his eyes, “I’ve never wanted to talk about it to anyone. Ever since I was a kid, I just wanted to stop having those damn dreams,” he murmured. “That’s okay too.” John put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Scott, what you’ve been through would be enough to give anyone nightmares.” Scott felt his hackles go up, instinctively on edge, on guard and feeling defensive. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do– that includes talking to me. But saying things out loud really does help. It’s hard to do, sometimes, but getting it off your chest – out of your head and out into the world – doing that helps take away some of the power and numbs some of the sting.” Scott nodded. He knew that was true. He’d learned that over the last few months, consistently writing down and talking about his nightmares. When he’d stopped bottling up and stuffing down all the pain and fear, he’d stopped allowing it the space it needed to grow and fester under the surface. This felt like something more personal though, and he realized that scared him. He had more to lose here. He took a deep breath and determinedly relaxed his guard anyway; he was sorry for raising it in the first place. John meant well, and Scott knew that. “What do you remember?” John asked him gently. “Charles once mentioned that you lost your folks in a plane crash.” John answered his own question and added a reassurance, “That’d be enough to give me nightmares.” “I remember the falling.” Scott always remembered the feeling of falling in his nightmares, falling and holding on to his brother... the way their falling had seemed endless. “I’m falling from the plane when the optic blasts happen for the first time.” Scott swallowed hard, refocusing himself on hard facts. “The professor thinks that part was real. He thinks the blasts saved my life, thinks they were triggered early – brought on by the sheer desperation I was feeling to save myself, and my brother, Alex,” he added more quietly. “After that, the blasts didn’t reemerge until later, just before Xavier found me. But in the nightmares, I can never make them stop. I’m destroying everything....” John wanted to tell Scott it was only a nightmare; he wished that he could. But they both knew what truly scared Scott was the fact that his nightmares could too easily become real. “I used to have that dream, all the time, while Hank was still working on the glasses. It’s beyond terrifying to wake up from a nightmare and realize you haven’t really woken up... you still can’t open your eyes.” He took a deep breath, trying to bring that emotion under control... only to remember exactly why the emotion hit him so damn hard. “I felt the same way after the plane crash... waking up from the coma... and wishing that I hadn’t.” Scott’s voice broke over the last word, over the pain and utter despair in that memory. John was right; it was different saying it out loud. Suddenly it was more emotion than he could process. The feelings were too intense, like still being in that nightmare reality, where everything was overwhelming and uncontrolled. He was sobbing. Before Scott had time to comprehend how his composure had slipped so severely, to apologize for himself or try to regain some self-control, John had pulled him into a hug and held him tight. That was so unexpected, a small corner of his brain froze. Scott couldn’t remember anyone ever hugging him this way. How could that feel so good, and yet all the bad stuff continued to rage inside him, to pour out of him against his will and seemingly beyond his control? John didn’t say a word, just held Scott tightly. And the whole time John was careful to hold on to his shoulders so that Scott kept control over his head; that detail didn’t escape Scott’s notice or his gratitude. Finally Scott pulled back enough to carefully wipe one cheek with the back of his hand. It felt like there should have been tears, but there were none. Scott swallowed hard. Any moisture that successfully escaped his eyes was already, instantaneously, vaporized by his optic blasts. He had gone from learning not to cry to no longer being able to. “That still scares you,” John offered in the brief silence, giving Scott’s shoulder a squeeze. “The reality of it, I mean– not just the nightmare.” Scott shivered. “More than anything,” he whispered. The tremors didn’t entirely subside, despite strong shoulders or John’s reassuring grip on them. “For a few minutes, tonight felt like that all over again. Then Jean–” he sighed, at a loss for words to describe the enormity of what she had done for him. “I’m just really glad she was here to help me....” He motioned to his glasses. “But I should know better by now. “I know I can’t control it; I know I never will. Every time I start to think I’ve made my peace with that– I get too comfortable– I start to let my guard down– Then something like tonight happens and I–” The words almost choked him but he forced them out anyway. “I don’t know why you still want me here.” “What terrible thing have you done to make us send you away?” John questioned him gently. “I– could have–” Scott protested weakly. “But you didn’t. You didn’t do anything, Scott,” John concluded. “You can’t help being made the way you are. But I know you’re doing everything you possibly can to make sure everyone around you stays safe. I believe that, and I’m not afraid of having you here.” He insisted, “I’m not going to give up on you, any more than I would Jean or Ororo. Or any more than Charles would give up on you. We all believe in you.” It took Scott a couple of moments to catch his breath and regain his composure again. “When Professor Xavier found me, I was living with my eyes closed, a danger to everyone and everything around me, and with no hope of ever changing that. Truth is, everything I know that’s worth knowing, everything I’m proud of being, started when Charles Xavier took me in. I’ll always be grateful for that. But I’ll never forget either– I can’t let myself forget that these glasses are the difference between sight and utter destruction every time I open my eyes.” “That’s a very heavy burden for you to place on yourself, Scott.” “It’s mine to carry,” he replied simply. “If you want my advice, don’t be so quick to shoulder it alone. Let the people around you who want to help, help you. They can make your burden lighter.” Scott nodded cautiously. It had never been easy for him to admit he needed help, even to himself. But he had learned that he could admit it, and he could accept help when it was offered. He had people that he trusted that way now. “Most people don’t imagine facing the kind of hardships you’ve gone through, Scott, much less taking that and making something positive of it. I see you doing that with your life, and it amazes me.” Scott shook his head, ready to protest John’s high opinion of him, ready to insist that he was doing no more than Ororo or Jean; they deserved his praise far more than Scott did.... But his protest was abruptly cut short when John spoke again. “I’m proud of you, son.” John rubbed Scott’s shoulder for emphasis. It did something to Scott he couldn’t explain when John said that. Maybe because John didn’t say it in a casual, thoughtless way.... And the next thing Scott knew he was leaning against John’s shoulder again. Honestly, Scott couldn’t tell if he had leaned, or John had pulled, or maybe it had been a little of both. But Scott was leaning against John’s shoulder, feeling John’s arms wrapped around him again. That funny feeling in the pit of his stomach gave way to something more bittersweet as his mind caught up with his gut; what he was feeling now was as close as he was ever going to come to feeling a father’s affection or approval. “And nothing’s going to make me send you away,” John added very quietly. Scott’s chin trembled. John had hit a raw nerve. Under everything else Scott was dealing with, there was still a kid who didn’t know how it felt to be unconditionally loved and accepted... and he was afraid of losing another family. John forced a smile to lighten the heavy mood. “You know Jean would kill me.” Scott laughed, only because they both knew that was completely true. John watched the room around them darken and he held the boy a little tighter. Scott had always been so closely guarded, always keeping his emotions tightly under wraps and everyone around him at a careful distance. More than once, John had wanted to simply hug the boy... wanted to tell him that he and Elaine really did think of him as a son... love him like a son. Deep down, John hadn’t known if Scott was ready to hear any of that. But for the moment it seemed Scott was willing to let Jean’s father hold him, and willing to accept the fact that John honestly did care about him, like he would a son. There had been a time in his life, not so long ago, when Scott would have focused on the bitter and pushed away all the rest. A scene like this would have left him disbelieving, even resentful. Scott wasn’t yet willing to make that entire leap of faith. But he had grown willing enough to accept smaller parts of the larger whole: compassion, reassurance, acceptance. He knew that now-familiar gut emotion of overwhelmingly intense devotion, even if he wasn’t yet ready to call it love. Now he had another emotion for comparison. A small part of his brain wondered idly if that persistent feeling of well-being, of simply being cared for, might come very close to what unconditional love was supposed to feel like... and even if he doubted, even if it frightened him to want or need it, he still felt it. So Scott leaned against John, closed his eyes, and accepted his own weakness – or was it simply a fact – that part of him craved this ridiculous display. Being held, being praised, being reassured. There was still a part of him, down deep inside, that had never quite succeeded in shutting off all the painful feelings and instead still wanted all these simple, impossible things. Wanted very badly to feel that he was valued, to believe that he would be taken care of by a parent who loved him. “Now,” John gave Scott’s shoulder another squeeze before finally releasing him, “I think we’d better get ourselves downstairs before the tea gets cold and we give Elaine reason to come looking for us.” Scott nodded, smiling gratefully. “Yes, sir,” he answered.