"I live here... I work here..." Scott walked over to Charles's desk and sat down in the chair next to Hank. He paused a moment then, continued.
"Oh! You mean what am I doing here? In your office? Right now? It seems you forgot to tell me there was a planning meeting going on." He sat back in the chair and looked from Charles to Hank and back again. "What's up?" "It's okay, Scott," Charles answered mildly. "We don't need you right now. We were just finishing, anyway."
"Finishing what?" Scott sounded a bit on edge.
Neither of them answered. Hank changed the subject. "We need to talk about lab supplies, Scott. I can't believe the poor quality of the glassware we've been getting lately."
"Take it up with 'Ro. She does the ordering." Something about the grim set of his mouth made Hank think Cyclops was glaring at him from behind those glasses. "I'd rather discuss the MPP."
"MPP?" McCoy looked baffled. "That's an abbreviation with which I am unfamiliar. What does it signify? Metaphysical Polymorphous Postulate?"
"You've got a lot of talents, Hank, but acting stupid isn't one of them. I know what it stands for and I know you know." He swiveled in his chair, turning angrily towards the professor. "Stay out of my brain, Charles. I'm not bluffing. It's the Mutant Protection Plan. You’re working on resettling victims of anti-mutant violence in new places, with new identities, so they can start life over somewhere no one knows their mutant status. Right?” Neither McCoy nor Xavier answered.
Without warning, Cyclops snatched the folder out of Hank's hands. "And here are the preliminary plans," he added, rifling through the papers. "Alpha Flight's involved; the FBI, even. You’re modeling this after the Justice Department’s Witness Protection Program..." he mused, looking through the papers. "A major X-Men project, from the looks of it. Strange not to even let the Field Leader know about it, isn't it?"
"Where did you hear about the MPP?" Charles Xavier asked, calmly.
Scott was still reading the documents. "Logan," he answered without looking up.
Hank sputtered a bit, turning to Charles. "That man was provided this intelligence with the clear understanding that it was confidential. I told you he should not have been entrusted with such sensitive information, Professor. Revealing such material to others is... is... not the act of a gentleman!" he finished, indignantly.
Scott Summers looked up, a grim smile on his face. "Well, I don't think the Wolverine has ever claimed to be a gentleman," he said. "But, for what it's worth, he had no idea he was spilling any beans. He didn't know I was an 'other' and by the time he realized it was pretty much too late. Seems you forgot to tell him you were keeping the new project a secret from me. He naturally assumed I was in on it. Hell, I would assume the same thing if I were him." The smile disappeared and he pounded once on the desk with his fist. "Some fucking drifter you barely know gets in on the secret joint project? This guy I picked up for you because you thought Magneto was after him knows all about the new X-Men project and I don't? What the hell is going on around here? Why him?" He looked back and forth between McCoy and Xavier.
“Logan has assumed different identities several times before,” Hank replied. “We thought he could help us analyze and synthesize the necessary protocols to formulate this new endeavor on which we are embarking.”
“And was he a help?”
“Not to the extent we had anticipated his assistance to be efficacious.”
“Because his amnesia is still pretty profound, right? He’s still got huge gaps in his memory – years he doesn’t know where he was or what he did. For any period before the past fifteen years, he’s unsure of where he was or even who he was. He only has snatches of memory of the different names he took on and what he did under them. He certainly doesn’t have the detailed recall of how he assumed those identities you’d need for him to assist you.”
Charles nodded. “That’s correct. Logan’s continuing amnesia really prevented him from giving us the information we needed. We gained nothing by bringing him into the project, just as you say.” He paused, then continued. “How do you come to know so much about Logan’s amnesia?”
“Because he talks to me and I listen. I bet Logan’s spoken more to me than anyone else here,” he answered softly, looking down. “I could have told you all that and saved you the trouble of asking him,” Scott went on, the anger coming back into his voice. “If you’d trusted me enough to consult me at all, that is,” he added bitterly.
"Scott, clearly you're upset," the professor began.
"Wow, it’s true what everyone says about you, Charles. You really are a powerful telepath, aren't you? Somebody who trusts you finds out you've been lying to him and confronts you about it and you can tell he's upset. I am impressed."
"We haven't lied to you," Hank interjected. "You weren't essential to this project, and we thought you had enough on your plate." Charles nodded in assent.
"Not essential? Not essential?" Cyclops's voice was rising again. "Plenty of field operations needed for this one. Plenty of coordination. Missions of various sizes and scope. So who's planning them? Who's executing them?" Neither man answered. "Look, here's what this comes down to: am I Field Leader of the X-Men or not? You can't have it both ways. If I am, then stop this bullshit and treat me like your field leader and let me do my fucking job. And if I'm not, at least have the courtesy to tell me I'm out of a job, so I can start looking for a new one." He picked up the folder full of papers, dropped it on the professor's desk, and stalked out of the room. Hank called Scott's name as he left, but he didn't answer.
Charles Xavier looked for Scott at dinner, but he didn’t show up. Discreet questioning of faculty and students elicited the information that Cyclops had shown up for his classes and advisement sessions, as expected, and had attended the weekly meeting of the Drama Society, for which he was the faculty advisor. No one noticed any unusual behavior on his part, and one student described Mr. Summers as very excited about the plans to perform Twelfth Night as the school play in March, news Charles found reassuring. Scott didn’t appear to be acting like someone on the verge of leaving Xavier’s Academy.
Charles excused himself early from dinner, and went looking for Scott. He wasn’t in his room, although that was not a surprise. He seemed to spend as little time as possible there since Jean’s death. Continuing his search, Charles didn’t see Scott – or any signs that he’d recently been there - in either the Danger Room, the pool, or his office. While rolling by the library, which was closed for the evening, he noticed the lights were on and went in. Scott was in the back of the large room, with a few books on a table in front of him and his laptop computer, seemingly taking notes from one of the books.
Charles approached Scott slowly, holding back a little. Scott looked up and greeted him with a sheepish smile. “It’s okay – you can come closer,” he said. “I’m not dangerous. I’ve calmed down considerably.”
Charles wheeled up to the table. “Glad to hear it."
Cyclops looked at his watch. "Aren't you supposed to be at dinner? Who's making the evening announcements?"
"Hank's covering for me."
Scott groaned. "I hope you provided all the students with pocket dictionaries. And big pots of coffee."
Xavier laughed. "It's good for them. They'll stop complaining about my announcements, now that they know what they could be like." His tone changed, turned serious. "I’m sorry, Scott. I made an error in judgment and I wanted to tell you so. I didn’t want to leave things the way they were between us.”
“I appreciate that. And I’m sorry I blew my top.” He sighed deeply. “I wasn’t exactly the model of grace under pressure you want in a field leader, screaming at you and Hank,” he added, shaking his head.
“Well, let’s just say I hope your speech patterns are rubbing off on Logan, too,” Charles replied, and Scott chuckled. “I was surprised to hear you and he have been spending time together.”
“I guess you’d be surprised to hear much of anything I’ve been doing lately,” Scott answered, a bitter tone coming into his voice. “It’s not like you’ve taken much interest in what’s going on with me.”
“That’s not true. I’m always interested. I’ve gotten the impression you don’t want me meddling.”
“You think it’s possible to show interest without meddling, Charles? I do. You want a clue how to do it? Don’t order me away from my home and workplace.”
“I’m sorry, Scott.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that.”
“I keep saying it because I mean it. I want to know what’s going on in your life. I want you to confide in me, but only if you want to. And I’m glad you’ve found someone else to talk to if you’re not comfortable talking to me. I’m just surprised it’s Logan,” he added.
Cyclops shrugged. “We’re both outcasts, lately, I guess.” He waited, wondering whether Charles would tell him he was only an outcast because he chose to be. Charles just sat there, listening.
Scott wasn’t sure how much to say. "It’s not just being mad at you. That’s not the only reason I’m keeping to myself. I haven’t really felt like having much company. And I’m having trouble sleeping. I wake up and can’t go back to sleep and I just can't stay put. I go to the gym, the Danger Room, the pool... I run into Logan at night. He doesn’t say much, doesn’t expect me to say much. He’s easy.” He shrugged again. “Or, at least, it felt easy being around him until this MPP thing. Now I look at him and all I can think about is that you trusted him and not me. I’ve calmed down, but I’m still really mad, Charles.”
“And I’m really sorry. You’re quite right – we should have told you. You shouldn’t have heard it from him.” He picked up the book Scott had been looking at and read the title out loud. “Resumes That Work?”
“I haven’t looked for a job in a long time. I think I need a refresher.”
"I don't want you to look for a job. You're needed here." Scott just shrugged. "What kind of work are you thinking of doing?"
"I'm not sure," he answered, looking down at the book. "Probably straight teaching. I don't imagine there are a whole lot of English-teacher-cum-superhero jobs out there." He looked up at Charles, smiling slightly now. "On the other hand, if I see one advertised I'll have a resume that works."
Charles laughed at that. "Please, Scott, accept my apology. It was an error in judgment not to include you in the MPP project from the start. Mine alone. And it was another error trying to send you to Vermont. I was aching to see you in such pain and didn’t know how to help you. I thought you could use Dr. Leeds’s professional expertise. I still think that. But I know now that he can only be a help to you if you want that kind of help. I was dead wrong to try to force it on you."
"Well, thanks for saying that, but it's not just Vermont and it’s not just the MPP. I feel like you're squeezing me out, Charles. I mean, it seems like you're fine with how I'm handling the school responsibilities, at least lately, but you're second-guessing every decision I make with the team. I don't feel like I'm Field Leader anymore. I hardly feel like I'm an X-Man at all." He turned away from the professor. "I know my performance isn't exactly stellar, but I'm functioning, Charles. I accomplish the missions. I bring them back alive." He choked a little on the last sentence.
"I know you do. I'm filled with admiration for how well you're functioning. Truly."
"So why are you over-ruling my personnel decisions? Why are you keeping me here half the time when I should be out there in the field?"
Charles shook his head sadly and didn't speak for a moment. "I'm scared you won't come back," he said finally. Scott opened his mouth, but Charles stopped him before he could say anything. "It's not a reflection on you, Scott, really. It's my problem. I see a dangerous mission and I just can't bear the thought of you going on it. I can't stand the thought of you risking your life. I can't live with the worry."
Scott chuckled ruefully. "I've been risking my life for you daily, Charles, since I was sixteen. Aren't you used to it, yet?"
"I was. Until we lost Jean." Charles sighed. "And it's not like I wasn't aware of the danger or didn't worry about you, all of you. I did, every time. But part of me... I don't know. I think part of me thought you were invincible. And I just don't feel that way anymore. And I'm not saying I'm reconciled to losing any of the rest, or that I don't worry about them. But it's different with you. It always has been. You and Jean. You were the first here. They're all my children, in some sense. But it's not just metaphorical with you. It feels more real than that. You're my son, my only son, whom I love..." His voice trailed off.
"Yeah, well he was willing to sacrifice his son."
Charles chuckled. "See why I can't spare you? Even if only for a mission? Nobody else here knows what I'm quoting, or even when I am." He turned serious again. "We both need to heal, Scott. Maybe we've both made some mistakes in the recovery process. I know I have. I've been shielding you too much. I won't do it again. Can you forgive me?"
Scott nodded. "I've made mistakes, too. I should have talked to you more, opened up more, told you how I was feeling. For my own sake as well as yours." He paused, a hesitant look on his face, then plunged in. "I want to talk to you now. I want to talk about Jean. But I'm a little afraid to. There's something I want to tell you, but I think it will sound crazy."
"You're the sanest man I know. Tell me."
"I don't think she's dead." Scott looked at Charles, trying to gauge his reaction.
The professor didn't look surprised at what he'd just heard. He nodded slowly. "I thought you might come to that conclusion."