Canadian Nights: The Story of the Doctor and the Field Leader Chapter 10 by Mo
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Alpha Flight belong to Marvel. The movie belongs to Fox. I do feel like Scott and Logan are a little bit mine since I've been borrowing them for so long.
Scott was just about half-way through the huge mountain of papers obscuring his inbox when Jean walked in, carrying a tray of food. "Come on, Scott," she said. "Give it a rest. You've got to eat some time."
"Is it lunch time already?"
"Long past. Don't tell me this stuff is so interesting you lost track of time. Hey, move some of those papers and let me put this down." He cleared a space and she placed the tray in front of him.
With the papers out of the way, Jean noticed the gashes in Scott's desk for the first time, running a finger along one of them and raising her eyebrows questioningly. Scott blushed a little but didn't say anything about them. Instead he answered what she had said previously. "No, it's not so interesting. Deadly boring, in fact. But look at this, Jean! I was gone a week - you'd think it had been a month to look at this pile."
"Well, there isn't exactly a law of the universe that says you have to get through it all today, you know. I really don't think the world's going to come to an end if Scott Summers doesn't see the bottom of his inbox on the day he returns from a mission."
"I wouldn't be so sure. That's really the kind of thing you can only know once you get to the bottom of the inbox, don't you think? Here, look at this," he said, pulling a one-page memo out of the bottom of the pile. "It's from an evil alien race intent on destroying the earth."
"And how do you know that?"
"Says so right here. 'To: Field Leader of the X-Men. From: Evil Alien Race Intent on Destroying the Earth.' It says that humanity has made a total mess of this planet and that as a race we have created nothing of value, with the sole exception of the musical 'Cats'. See, they truly are evil."
Jean laughed. "Are you ever going to forgive me for dragging you to that? I thought it was cute."
"I forgive you right now. I even forgive you for thinking that tripe was cute. I forgive you because it says right here that they will blow up the planet next Thursday unless we come up with another musical like that. So, it's you dragging me to 'Cats' that's enabling me to save Terra, Jean. They like musical comedy based on Eliot poems. I think my concept of a musical based on Prufrock is an idea whose time has come. I'll start writing songs - you audition the kids."
"Well, okay, but you're playing the lead, you know. So make sure the songs you write for him only have three notes." Scott mimed being stabbed in the heart. "But Slim, you chose the wrong memo for this. That one's mine - blood drive notice. And you'd better be donating this time - I happen to know your eight weeks are up."
"It's not enough that I risk my life regularly for this organization? You want my blood, too?"
Jean turned serious. "As long as you keep bringing in refugees with major injuries, Scott, I'm going to need blood for them." They both were silent for a minute, thinking about some of the people he'd rescued and she'd patched up. "But you know whose blood I really want? Logan's. I bet the healing factor is at least partly in his blood. I'd like to see if those who get transfusions from him heal more quickly. Can you talk him into donating next time he's here?"
"I don't know. You know he really doesn't like needles." He looked at her. "Okay, I'll try. That's the best I can do. Hey, Jean, how did you know it was your memo, anyway? Were you reading my mind while I held it?"
"No. I could tell just from seeing the paper. I know they all look the same to you, but I printed it out on bright blue paper to make it stand out for most folks. Not everybody goes through their inbox every day - you need something to grab them."
"Blue? Black ink on blue paper?" Jean nodded. "Jean, if you're trying to convince people that giving blood is relatively painless, do you think giving them a black-and-blue notice might subliminally undercut that message a bit?" She laughed again. "Hey, it's good to hear you laugh. It's been a long time."
"It's been a long time since we just hung out and talked. You know, Scott, we've been friends for a lot of years. I don't want to lose that, no matter what happens."
"Me neither. Thanks for coming by."
"So, how did it go in Montreal?"
"Really good, I think," Scott answered, in between bites of his sandwich. "I think we each are bringing something to the project and it will go much better with both organizations involved. And it looks like Logan's going to head up the development of the center. He's got the relevant knowledge and experience and he's sort of neutral - not really on either team but with ties to both. It turns out he has a whole history with Mac Hudson. They worked together for years - a long time ago. I'll give a full report at the meeting, later, but I have a good feeling about this."
"How is Logan?"
"Oh, he's fine."
"That's not what you're broadcasting. You're worried about him, Scott, aren't you?"
"Well, yeah, but I didn't think you'd want to hear about that. I mean, I'm totally out of my depth here, Jeannie. I don't know what the etiquette of this situation is. Do you talk to your old lover about your concerns about your new lover?"
"I don't know if the etiquette books cover that. And I really don't care. We're going to have to make this up as we go along. Are the nightmares bothering him again?"
"Yeah, they have been, although 'Ro has gotten him to take some herbal remedy of hers that seems to be keeping them at bay for now. He's still really troubled by his memory, with the big holes in it. But the nightmares, the memory stuff - that wasn't the worst of it. He was really in a bad way at the beginning of the week. A little bit delusional. Sort of paranoid. Not really able to look at things rationally. He was better by the end, though. And the Hudsons saw how he was and they seem to think he can handle this project - they're much more objective than I am. But I'm still worried. It was hard to leave him."
"You're really in love with him, aren't you?"
"Yeah, I am. I'm not sure it's reciprocated and I don't know that there's any future in it, but I'm in love with him. I'm sorry, Jean."
"I know. Scott, I think it's time we made the trial separation permanent, don't you? We need to work on being friends and it's hard to work on redefining the relationship when we're in this kind of limbo."
He took her hand. "Yes, you're right. But, please Jean, know that I didn't mean to hurt you. I do love you and I always will. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes, I do. It's just a different kind of love than I thought it was."
"I'm sorry, Red. Really."
"I know. Look, we'll work it out. We have with everything else, no?" She smiled at him, a little sadly. "Hey, I need your help with something."
"Sure. What's up?"
"It's about one of the new kids. Oliver - one of the three that John and Bobby picked up in Times Square a couple of weeks back. Charles found them with Cerebro, remember?"
"Yeah, I remember the mission. But which one was he?"
"The really tall one. Good looking. Fifteen but looks much older. Dark hair, longish."
"Yeah, I remember now. What about him?"
"I want you to talk to him. I've tried a little but he doesn't open up to me. I think he'd respond better to a man. And he really looks up to you."
"Looks up to me? I met him once."
"Well, the kids talk about you. You know they do. Bobby and John probably bragged about all the dangerous missions they've been on with you. And Scott, his gift is in his eyes. And he can't really control it yet. So you're kind of a hero to him."
Scott was somewhat taken aback by that. "Really? Optic blasts?"
"No, something else. He can see through things - X-ray vision, we're calling it. But it seems to happen sort of randomly at this point, and his visual cortex hasn't adjusted yet, I guess. He can't make sense of the images - most of the time he can't see effectively at all."
"Is he always going to be like that?"
"No, I don't think so. We've got him on a program now where he is doing exercises with his vision for an hour a day and he keeps his eyes closed the rest of the time. It seems to be helping. I think he'll be able to control it soon."
"Does he find it hard to keep his eyes closed that much?"
"Well, there's something you can ask him. Maybe he'll talk to you about it, since you can give him the 'been there, done that' bit. I think he's okay with it. He has been passing as blind for a while."
"Oh God, that brings back memories. Not good ones. How long was he on his own?"
"Seven months."
Scott counted backwards in his head. "Good. He never dealt with the worst of the winter. What was he living on?"
"Prostitution. And that's part of what I want you to talk to him about." Jean didn't say anything else, but looked straight at Scott.
"Jean," he said. "We never talked about this, but when I was on my own... Well, me too. That's how I managed."
"I know that, Scott."
"How did you know?"
"Oh, come on. Credit me with a little intelligence. We've been taking in kids who have been on the streets for how many years now? It's one of three things - they've either been selling their bodies or drugs or they've been stealing. Don't you think I know you well enough to know that you'd choose the one route where you don't hurt anybody else?"
"Just myself."
"Yeah, I know." She paused, and then began again, a little hesitantly. "Scott, do you think it's because of that time? Do you think that's why you're..." She didn't finish the sentence.
"Gay? You can say it, Jean. Hell, even I can say it. Sometimes. And no, it has nothing to do with that. Jean, if experience made for sexual orientation I'd be straight. Most of that was awful - if anything could have turned me off of men that time would have. It has taken me a long time to get to this point, but I'm realizing now that it has nothing to do with what I do or don't do. If I never had sex again for the rest of my life, I'd still be gay. It's not about what I do, it's about who I am." Neither of them said anything more for a couple of minutes. Then Scott said, "So what's the story with this Oliver kid?"
"He keeps getting into fights with the other kids. I'm worried about him - he won't tell me what's going on. And I'm worried about the others, too. He's getting into pretty violent fist fights and I'm worried about the blood exposure."
"Has he had an HIV test? Hepatitis?"
"Yes, and he came out negative, thank God. But it's too soon on the HIV to be sure - he could still be infected, you know. He might not have sero-converted yet. He needs repeat tests after a waiting period. And he's not totally healthy, Scott. He has gonorrhea. Of the throat. It's responding to the antibiotics, which is good - there are so many resistant strains out there. But he needs to stop the fighting, he needs some straight talk about HIV and AIDS, he needs someone to tell him he's a worthwhile human being and having traded sex for money doesn't change that. I figure you're the man for the mission."
"Sure thing, Jean. I don't know how much I can do for him, but I'll try."
"Thanks. I knew I could count on you." She smiled at him.
He smiled back. "Do you mind if I finish going through my inbox first?"
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