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Continuity to Come Back To; (Open, after Jean posts)
Topic Started: Nov 4 2014, 08:46 AM (391 Views)
Cyclops
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
September 15, 1992
Around Noon


Scott ignored the call that came from the path behind him, but as his hand fell on the cold metal of the gates, the voice sounded in his head, and he froze.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving," Scott said, not turning around to look at the Professor. "I can't do this. I'm not who you want me to be."

"Who do you think I want you to be?" the Professor asked the boy, having joined him now on the driveway.

The boy turned around, tall lanky frame so stooped as to almost be bent double, shoulders hunched inward. Beneath the flop of brown hair, eyes hidden beneath red lenses studied the ground rather than the wheelchair bound man in front of him. "I don't know, but you chose it over your own girlfriend... It's something important. It's something too... too big. I'm not... enough. I'm nothing, so... so I think it's better than I go. Thanks for everything, but, I need to go."

Xavier held out a sweater to the painfully thin fifteen year old amd said, "Not without a sweater, at least. It's the middle of winter."

There was a hesitation, and then Scott took the sweater, looking down at it, balefully, "What color is it?" he asked, quietly, anything to not talk about the real stuff.

"You tell me," Xavier said, "See past those glasses."

Scott frowned, and looked hard at the sweater, trying to see more than red, trying to remember what colors were, "Um..." he said, "green?"

Xavier smiled, "Well done."

A small grin briefly flit across Scott's drawn face, and for that tiny moment, he looked fifteen, he looked like a young teen, just a boy. But then it was gone, and the road dog look was back, expecting to be hit, ready to run, prepared to bite. He handed the sweater back, "I can't, sir. I'm not taking anything that I didn't earn. I'm not charity."

"No, you're not, Scott," the Professor said, "Nor would I want to treat you like it. But what about compassion?"

Scott frowned, "I don't know what that means."

The Professor rested his hand the boy's arm, "It means, Scott, that I'm helping you, because I can, because you need help. I do want something from you, but that something is not what you think it is. What I want, Scott, is to help you become the man I know you can be."

"You don't know what kind of person I am," the boy snapped, "You take me to your house, your... mansion, filled with all kinds of rich people things... You don't even lock the door. Maybe I'm going to load up my backpack with as much as I can carry and run off."

"Well, here you are, running off," Xavier said, "and what is in your backpack?"

Slinking back into himself, Scott muttered, "Just what I came here with."

"I know, Scott," Xavier patted the boy's arm, "Despite what you've been forced to do to survive, you're not a thief."

"But I'm no hero, either," the boy flinched away from the Professor's comforting pats, "I can't help anyone the way you want me to. I don't know how. Maybe I don't even want to. None of them would help me. None of them would care if I was alive or dead, would they? They never did before."

Xavier reached over to the gate's keypad and typed the code, so that the gates swung open, "You can leave if you want to Scott, you can leave and you can watch all the bad things happen. So you can see the world as dark and empty as it has been, or you can stay here and learn be a light, to be a hope for others like you, like us."

"And if I can't?" Scott asked, "If I fail? If I hurt someone? If I let someone... fall?"

"Then, you help them up, Scott, or you let them help you," Charles said, gently, "That's not charity. It's compassion."

The boy hung his head, "I'm scared, sir."

"That's why you're going to be so important to those who'll come after," Xavier said, "Because you'll understand the fear, the loneliness, the need, and you'll want to protect them from that. You won't be flawless, Scott, that's an impossible thing to be, but you'll be the best you can be, and in the end, that's all I want from you. For you to be the best man, you can be."

*****

September 29th, 2014
2pm


Scott stood at the gates of the mansion, the taxi that dropped him and Jean off here long gone. Their time at sea had brought color to them both, left lighter streaks in their aid, restored his strength, replacing the gauntness of his death with a toned and defined strength in his arms and legs.

But most of all, it had straightened his spine, and lifted his shadowed eyes. So he stood there, studying the place that shame and guilt had driven him from, for a long moment. "It feels," he finally said, "like it's been forever since we've been home."

Reaching out, he took his wife's hand, "I wouldn't have survived this without you. You know that, right?"
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Jean
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Telepathy, Telekinesis
They stood before the gates of the school for a long moment, and Jean didn’t push. It had taken a long time, walking a long, hard road but finally their journey seemed to be climbing out of the darkness of self-loathing and back into the light.

She took Scott’s warm, strong hand and squeezed. “I helped but you did all the hard work,” she reminded him. “Getting up day after day and putting one foot in front of the other. And that’s how you’ll get through the rest of this, by opening that gate and taking what comes, whatever it is, and keep going.” Ever since the decision to return home had been made, nerves rattled in Scott’s chest, getting louder with each mile they got closer to these gates, until their clanging was almost deafening.

“And Scott,” she turned and looked up into the ruby lenses of his glasses and imagined the eyes on the other side staring at her, “I love you,” she said simply. “I love you down to my very bones. I feel that standing here means to you, what it’s costing you, and I think this is one of your bravest moments; what you’re doing is difficult on a level that most people can’t understand.” Blinking away the tears starting to form, she went on, “You make me so proud, and happy, to stand at your side and be your wife.”
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Wolfsbane
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"Alright, that'll do it f'r today's class," Rahne said to the group of older children gathered in her classroom. Her years of experience doing this gave her a keen sense of when these children had had enough, when their capacity for being in the classroom had reached its ultimate threshold, and no amount of further instruction would do them any good.

"Remember that yuir science fair projects are due in three weeks, an' I still have nae gotten anything from some of ye. Ye know who you are," she said pointedly as she looked over the top of her grade book out at the class, eyeing a few sheepish looks from the guilty parties.

"That's it, then - off with ye! But leave yuir desk neat. I dinnae want t' have t' call any of ye back here t' fix up yuir desks like last week. Remember - I know where each an' every one of ye live," she said with a smirk.

Rahne had to admit as she gathered up her things and headed out of the classroom and then out of the building and back towards home that it was good to be back in the classroom. She missed it, she really did. She missed the kids, she missed the assignments that they'd all do as a group, she missed the student teachers and the work they did in making sure that everything got done. And with Greg being babysat during the day by any number of volunteers, that left Rahne free to do her job again, which felt good.

She paused mid-stride as her superhumanly keen ears picked up the sounds of a car on the path leading up to the front gates. Visitors, perhaps? Honestly, it was a rare thing for a vehicle to pull up to those gates. People really didn't tend to want to visit this school so much now that the public knew what it was. Every once in a while, a news van trying to catch a scoop on the 'mutant menace' might swing by, or someone curious in another way, but more often than not, a car at the gates meant someone was either leaving or coming home.

She was curious, and glancing down at her watch, possessed of time to spare. Adjusting the canvas bag on her shoulder, Rahne took the casual stroll on towards the gates to take a peek at who was there, either wave them off or let them in depending. She seriously hoped it wasn't another damn news crew.

As she got closer though, her superhuman senses offered her more information. Scents she knew, knew very well at that. Familiar voices too. Her eyes went wide. How long had it been...? Her pace picked up, turning to a brisk jog. This was big, especially for an unannounced arrival.

Before too long, she came to view of the gate, and sure enough, it was who she thought it was. Scott and Jean Summers. After a good several months doing who knew what, they were finally back.

She slowed her pace back down as she got to the gate, her wide, toothy grin betraying the casual air she was trying to portray.

"Well, surely took the two of ye long enough t' get yuirselves back here," she said a bit on the quick side. "I'm takin' yuir waiting for someone t' open the gate, aye? Suppose I could do that."

She made her way over to the keypad and quickly tapped her pin number in, opening up the gate. If she were in her werewolf form, her tail would be wagging back and forth at a fierce pace. Instead, they'd just have to rely on the grin.
Posted Image

[size0]Say the dog and butterfly,
in the air they like to fly.
Dog and butterfly.
She knew she had to try,
and she float back down to the warm soft ground,
laughing - she don't know why,
but she had to try, she had to try.
Dog and Buttefly.


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Beast
Unregistered

Sparks and pops flew out of some recessed cavern full of wires and silicon and when a beep sounded to denote entry had been made, there was a tingle in his gut, in the back of his mind, almost extra sensory. Whether or not it was Jean, subliminally alerting old friends, or just the intuition of camraderie left dormant so long and suddenly hungry to be rekindled, he didn't know, but when McCoy's head popped out of whatever machine he'd been working on improving the sublevels with today, his dark face brightened and his teeth showed themselves in a warm grin that, since weathering the various tribulations of the past, well, two years, had become all too scarce and rare a thing.

And he wasted no time in pursuing the source.

"Suppose?" He said, coming up behind the lot of them. No doubt Rahne had picked up his approach, Jeanie too, both of them possessing senses much more acclimated to perception that even him, or Scott by far.

"I suppose a bit of fun-poking is well and good but I also suppose that what's started as a fairly blase day has just gone full steam into an exciting one."

The gate, opening to admit two long lost souls, seemed to swing open with his arms in synch, and, were he a less dextrous or polite fellow, he might have accidentally bowled Miss Russell over. But as he was neither and in fact was quite capable of holding back a swell of emotion, he did not, and when the opportunity presented himself he wrapped Jean Grey-Summers up in a warm and welcoming hug, musing all the while.

When that embrace was released, he turned then to Scott Summers, a man whose personal tortures he seemed to so often have a hand in, be it direct or otherwise, and he only smiled, knowing this brother in arms to be less than enthused with wanton physical contact.

"Your early!" He said. "I was hoping to get to my hairdresser."

His face in that moment faded from its joking shape to one of warm seriousness, his hand thrusting out.

"I couldn't be happier."
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Cyclops
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Punches from the Punch Dimension
Scott was surprised at Jean's emotional response, but he smiled, gently to see it, touched by her words, and her tears. Leaning forward, he tilted her chin up. and he kissed away the tears that had escaped her lashes. "I love you, honey," he whispered, "I don't have enough words to tell you how much. I'm no poet, you know that. I'm a man of action." He tilted his head and whispered into her ear, "But I'll show you how much I love you once we get to our room." He meant every word of it, but there was a layer of levity so that Jean would smile too, a secret side of him that so few had ever seen.

Their gentle flirtations set aside as they were greeted suddenly by a brightly beaming Rahne. "Well, surely took the two of ye long enough t' get yuirselves back here," she said a bit on the quick side. "I'm takin' yuir waiting for someone t' open the gate, aye? Suppose I could do that."

Dropping all pretext, Scott said, "I think I still recall how to operate the gate, but thanks, Rahne." She was very much a lap dog, was Rahne, fierce and ready to defend, but also loyal and eager to welcome one home, "How'd..." Whatever he was going to say was forgotten as Hank appeared, smiling and jovial.

If Scott held any grudge against Hank because it was his clone who had taken him, killed him broken him, it would have been very unfair. Scott never blamed Hank , not even in the slightest, and when the furry blue man extended his hand, he caught it in his. "Thanks, old friend, we're so glad to be home."

Then, surprising himself as much as Hank, he pulled him forward and caught him in a warm and careful hug, "Thank you for everything," Scott said, as he embraced the other man, "Thank you so much."
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Siryn
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Terry had been holed up in the school office as usual, responding to a number of emails. It was the usual fare of information requests, setting up enrolment and so forth. Thankfully their spam filters were pretty amazing given the resources at their disposal, so hate mail wasn’t something she had to sift through on a regular basis - well not electronically anyway. It was a Monday, so there was always lots to catch up on and things to check in with. Dressed in a black skirt suit with an emerald blouse underneath it, she had her hair up, an ‘X’ insignia pin on her lapel and resting over the material of her blouse, the necklace Warren had given her for her 21st. That already seemed like a year ago. She was the first member of staff that people would probably see on entering the building, so unless it was a very slow day, Siryn always tried to look nice to make a good first impression.

Swinging around in her chair, an image on one of the security monitors caught her eye and she broke into a huge grin. Without losing a moment, the redhead jumped up, pulled the ‘closed’ screen down and bounced out of the office door, towards the entrance. About halfway down the steps, Theresa realised that running in heels had not suddenly gotten any easier, so she slipped out of them and carried them as she headed down the side of the driveway, keeping her feet on the more comfortable grass. So much for looking professional today. Still, she didn’t think Scott and Jean would mind too much. Naturally a crowd was already gathering and she stopped behind Hank, hopping back into her patent high heels which she did not need to wear considering her natural height, but she secretly quite enjoyed it.

Eying the hug, she grinned. “How can we be sure it’s really you, eh?” Terry teased, but happily, glad to see the both of them again. In their absence, the school had carried on running under Warren and Hank with the support of the rest of staff and X-men and students combined, but Scott and Jean...They were something else.

“You two home for good now?” It was probably a silly question, but Siryn had age old abandonment issues. It was always nice to know when people were going to be staying put. Especially Scott and Jean. “We’ve missed you both.” This was the closest they'd get to her being mushy, so they'd best make the most of it.
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Jean
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Jean gave a throaty chuckle when Scott leaned close and whispered in her ear, bringing a sultry smile to her lips. Turning to see Rahne running for the gate, though she was now a wife and mother, the image took Jean back to when they were teenagers and Rahne was a snaggle-toothed little girl, a ball of furry, excited energy. Years hadn’t changed her.

"Well, surely took the two of ye long enough t' get yuirselves back here," Rahne said in a rush.

Jean laughed at the mother-hen scolding. “Well, it takes time for people to find themselves; especially you’re searching on pristine beaches, near a crystal blue ocean, with a mai tai in one hand and handsome husband at your side.” It wasn’t all lovely moments on the beach, but Rahne and the others didn’t need to know that; Scott was back to himself, mostly.

Then it was hugs all around, Rahne and then Hank enveloped her in a massive bearhug. “As much as it’s good to get away,” she said as Hank moved on to Scott, “it’s a thousand times better to finally be home.”

"You’re early!" [Hank] said. "I was hoping to get to my hairdresser."

“As if you need it, I hear long hair is in this season, Hank.”

Even Jean blinked and then smiled as Scott pulled Hank into a hug, something so un-Scott and yet, after the year they’d had, it was the best sight she could see.

Terry slipped up as everyone was focused on Hank and Scott. “How can we be sure it’s really you, eh?”

“Oh, that’s not the real Scott,” Jean replied casually without missing a beat, then gave Rahne a wink, “I traded the old one in on a newer model, less maintenance but it did come back with a few quirks.” She sidled up and slipped her arm around Scott’s lean waist, “But I think he’s a keeper.”

“You two home for good now?”

Jean nodded, “Yeah, we are. As long as we can be.”

“We’ve missed you both.”

“Thank you, Terry,” Jean closed the distance between them, and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “How have things been here? Any family news happen while we were gone?” In this school, things were always happening – young mutants in need of saving, fires needed to be put out, anti-mutant groups sniffing around and making trouble, and while that was important stuff, it was also business as usual; family business was more personal.
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Wolfsbane
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"Och, sounds like it was quite hard. I hear those mai tais really take it out of a body," Rahne said with a smirk, meeting the Summerses with a warm embrace as they made it through the gates. Casual joking aside, she was thrilled they were back. Xavier's Institute had been without their Summers for far too long, and now the school had them back.

Sure, they had proven that they could not only continue to run, but do so exceptionally, in Scott and Jean's absence, but Rahne would be lying if she said that it hadn't felt right without them. And as it would seem, she wasn't the only one to think so. Hank and then Terry each came out, and Rahne gave each their space to greet in their own way. It would be so easy to monopolize them for herself, but that just wouldn't be right. These two people meant a lot to a lot of people, not just to her.

She couldn't help but watch in silence at the tender moment between Scott and Hank, and nod appreciatively. She knew what it was to have a friendship that transcended time, space, whatever. She knew how important a strong platonic bond was.

"Heh - smells like the real Scott," Rahne said with a tilt of her head towards the left. "Real Scott plus suntan lotion an' salt. Must be some o' the upgrades, aye?"

She tossed in a wink to Jean, nodding her head.

"Well," she started in regards to Jean's question, "we've finished up on a new addition - got a Day Care up an' runnin' now. What with yuir nephew, Piotr's boy and my own, we're gonna need it 'fore too long."

Her eyes went wide, and she smiled.
"Oh, an' the two o' you hadn't even really met Greg yet, have ye? Oh, my goodness. Ye realize I absolutely have to play Proud Mum Showoff as soon as ye're all settled in."
Posted Image

[size0]Say the dog and butterfly,
in the air they like to fly.
Dog and butterfly.
She knew she had to try,
and she float back down to the warm soft ground,
laughing - she don't know why,
but she had to try, she had to try.
Dog and Buttefly.


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Beast
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While Henry and Jean shared a hug here and there quite frequently, be it on the return of one from a trip, or around the holidays, or on a birthday, the two of them were good friends, and Henry'd be lying if he denied that, once upon a time, anyhow, he'd held quite the flame for her.

Then again he figured most of them had.

Regardless, they were friends, good ones at that, and while his friendship with Scott Summers was no less enduring, endearing or storied and venerable, he could count the times Cyclops had hugged him on one hand, and he could count the times that Scott had been the instigator on one nose.

So, all that to say that Henry was, for a moment at least, taken aback, but he gave Scott a reassuring pat on the back, his face in a nice warm grin as the two separated. Henry rested a set of hands on Scott's shoulders and gave a nod, unsure that he really needed thanked for anything. "You're welcome." He said then, eyes shifting momentarily to Jean, nodding, and going back to Scott. "You're both so, so welcome."

He turned then, ready to cut into a welcome home treatise on some of the 'new and improved' facilities that he and Warren had spearheaded in the past few months, but there before him was a Terry, slipping shoes on and casting facetious doubts on the validity of the new arrivals, an off-color joke that Jean took in stride and Henry shook his head at, he stood back, keeping shoulder-lined with Scott, and folded his arms as Rahne and Siryn and Jean broke into conversation.

Offering to Scott as an aside, he spoked hushedly and through a conspiratorial grit of his teeth. "I've been building fun things. What if I told you I'm building an airplane."
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Cyclops
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Separating from the hug to Hank's warm welcome which was more than just an autonomic response to the thanks, Scott smiled, and there was not so much of a change in him that it was a broad toothy grin, but there was a definite upturn to his lips, and a nod to his head that was meant to cover a bit of tightness in his throat. He and Hank had not had the relationship that he and Warren had, but the fuzzy blue brainiac was still one of his nearest and dearest. He had wondered if on seeing Hank there would have been some residual anger towards Hank because of what the Dark Beast had done, or some kind of grudge that he had not seen the virus that resurrected him in the Hand's enslavement. He had wondered if he would look at his old friend and see just a source of pain.

But there was none of that, and from Hank's tone, he felt none either.

This was home.

Scott was home and for the first time since he had gone for a run and met his death in the forest, Scott really and truly felt like he was at home. Rahne and Terry teased him about being a copy and some might have found that in poor taste, but Jean was quick to slip her arm around him and join in the joking, giving him permission to enjoy it. She was a clever woman, his wife, and just when he thought he couldn't love her any more than he already did, she upped the ante and made him fall for her all over again.

Hank confided he was building a plane and Scott nodded, "Excellent. I'd love to see it."

He slipped Jean's hand away from his waist to lock their fingers and he said, to all around them, "It's good to be home."
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Jean
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Jean slipped her arm companionably around Rahne’s shoulders as the younger woman told them about the school expanding into Daycare. Around them, suitcases lifted up and glided up driveway, like a scene right out of a Disney flick with animated houseware, teapots and cups and walking brooms. However, two cases remained behind, beside Scott, not as a slight but because she knew Scott would rather carry his own burdens than have it taken care of for him.

“Oh, lots of new babies,” Jean said with a wide grin. “So… when are we going to commit to making Xavier’s its own township?” she said to everyone, and in truth, only half joking. What had started with six students and a teacher rattling around the mansion like a few peas in a tin can, had exploded into over a hundred students and, like Rahne and Jack, young couples starting families.

“We would love to see Greg,” she told Rahne, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “The sooner the better. Is he shifting forms already? That young?” She fought the urge to ask if her leather shoes and belts were safe from tiny fangs and claws; shifter or not, she didn’t want to compare Rahne’s bouncing baby boy and apple of his mother’s eye to a dog. If they weren’t safe, she thought with a sigh, she’d find out soon enough.

She steered everyone back to the mansion as they talked. “It’s great that it’s been relatively quiet while we’ve been gone. Let’s hope it stays that way for a while longer.”

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Wolfsbane
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"Och, dinnae ye jinx it, Jean," Rahne laughed. A live-in school full of hormonal co-ed teenagers - she considered it no small miracle that there haven't been any real considerable pregnancy scares for as long as she'd been with the school, and likely even longer.

The walk back towards the main building began, and Rahne had no problem following that procession along. Greg was covered for the time being, and in all honesty, she felt it would do him some good to spend some time with others in the extended X-Family, not just his mom and dad. Socialization and whatnot.

"Change? No, 'fraid not," Rahne said with a shake of her head. "Honestly nae really sure he can. I mean, odds are good, aye, but he was born fuzzy an' clawed with a wee little tail an' all the things that go along with bein' a wee werewolf, but we've seen no indication of shape changin' in him."

She hoped it was nothing to be concerned about. He was still a baby, after all, barely half a year old, but she couldn't help but worry a bit. What if he never changed? What if he was always in a wolf-like state? How would growing up be for him? As of now, he was so much a baby that being different from others didn't matter to him. But that nonchalance wouldn't last. It never does.

"So, I take it your trip went well? The two of ye look like it did wonders for ye, I'll say."
Posted Image

[size0]Say the dog and butterfly,
in the air they like to fly.
Dog and butterfly.
She knew she had to try,
and she float back down to the warm soft ground,
laughing - she don't know why,
but she had to try, she had to try.
Dog and Buttefly.


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