Part Three By Maria Cline DISCLAIMER: This the sequel to Sinister Help. All characters belong to Marvel and used without their permission. Oh, if you notice any continuity glitches, it was by accident. You try predicting one year in the future in the comics. Many thanks to the chatters at #subcafe for the French translations and plot help.
"Welcome back, Scott!" Harry greeted, as Scott and Jean walked in. Scott was wearing a silk shirt with a pair of blue jeans that Bobby loaned him. His long hair was tied in a ponytail. He was still wearing the glasses for his sake of identity. "Thanks, Harry," Scott said, as he adjusted his glasses. **Scott, you don't have to wear those glasses, remember?** Jean said telepathically. **I don't want Harry to mistake me for Gambit and there are civilians in this place.** "He won't," Jean said verbally. "What would you like?" Harry asked. "I make it a custom to give people free drinks for special occasions like retirement, starting a new company ... returning from the dead." "Thanks," Scott said, as he went up to the bar, "I'll just have a beer." Harry nodded and then asked, "I heard a rumor that you don't need those glasses anymore and that you're now Remy’s clone. Please tell me that last part isn't true." "I would, but then I'd be lying. I only have a small part of Remy’s DNA," Scott said, as he leaned forward and briefly lifted his glasses to reveal his now red-on-black eyes. "I just need my glasses for different reasons. It's personal." "I understand," Harry laughed fakely, as he handed Scott a beer. "By the way, where did you hear that?" "I got several phone calls warning me to make sure that you and Remy don't get mixed up." Scott sighed as he slowly sipped his beer. "Figures." "Hey, Slim!" a voice yelled out. "Wanna see if you've still got it?" Scott and Jean looked up to see Logan at the pool table with Bobby, Betsy, and Warren. Logan was holding a cue stick in one hand. "I've still got it," Scott said, as he got up and went to the pool table. Bobby stepped to the side as Scott picked up a cue. Betsy said, "Scott, I just want to say, I'm know what you're going through. I mean, having another person's DNA." "It's not like I'm Gambit's clone," Scott said, as he rubbed the end of his cue. Betsy had once been a different person physically until a bizarre trip through the Siege Perilous. She'd got the body of a ninja and a small part of another person's mind. Scott didn't look that much different, but the DNA change was there and he did have the eyes. "I don't look any different, but thanks for the comment." He took the cue stick and the white ball. It had been a long time since he had played the game. He lined up the ball with the other balls and carefully calculated the right shot He was tempted to use his optic blasts but he decided that he'd better just do it the old-fashioned way. He drew back the stick and slammed the white ball with it. The ball raced toward the other balls and banged right into them. They scattered all over the place. Several of them fell into the pockets. Calmly, he took his stick and rubbed it again with his chalk. "That's three," he said, as he took his stick and aimed it again at the white ball. The overhead lights were dim, and he was having a hard time seeing. He rubbed his eyes under his glasses and focused again. "You okay?" Logan asked. "I'm fine," Scott replied, as he shook his head. "If it's your glasses, just take them off," Betsy said. Scott blinked and asked, "How did you know? You didn't use your ..." "No, I didn't use my telepathy. I just guessed." "Okay," Scott said, as he took off his glasses and put them on the table. As soon as he took them off, the pain faded. His eyes were starting to hurt and he didn't know why. He aimed again as he drew back the stick. This time, the brown stick turned crimson red as Scott bumped the ball again. Scott's eyes widened as the ball started to crash into the other balls at a speed that normal billiard balls don't travel at. "Shit," he said, as he put both hands on the table and focused. The entire table and the remaining balls glowed red as the rampaging white ball started to slow down. He sighed in relief as the table stopped glowing and he took his hands off of the table. "How did you do that?" Jean asked. "Ummm ..." Scott said, "I don't know." "We must examine you," Hank said, as he grabbed Scott's arm. "This is an astounding use of powers." "Later!" Scott snapped at him. He closed his eyes and said in a more calm tone, "Tomorrow. You can test me tomorrow." "Remy? How did you do that to the table?" a waitress asked. The group looked at Scott who was staring blankly. "Ummm ... I think you must be mistaken," he said, as he started laugh to himself. "I need my clothes back." "Diana," the real Gambit said, as he walked up behind her, "dat's Scott Summers." "Scott Summers?! Jean's _dead_ husband?" Diana said, shocked. "Formerly dead husband, yes, that's me," Scott corrected, as he put on the glasses again. "I'm so sorry. It's just that you look just like him," Diana said, as her face turned red. "No need to apologize," he said, as he smiled softly at her. She blushed redder as she walked off at a quick pace. He felt his hair and added, "I really need a haircut too." "Why didn't you get one earlier?" Warren asked, as he lined up his shot. "I couldn't find any all-night barber shops." Scott put his stick down and said, "I'm done. I'll be back later." His eyes wandered, looking at the various people. Many were his teammates and family. A few were just some customers who wondered what had occurred. He felt various stares as he looked behind him. He was used to being talked about behind his back. No one knew he heard the comments that were spoken about him; 'The Fearless Leader', 'Stiff Summers', and 'Mr. Anal-Retentive.' He heard them all and never really minded, as that was what he wanted them to see. He wanted them to see a brave straight-laced hero that followed the rules. They used to trust him with their lives. His image was cracking. People weren't as trusting of him. He could feel it or was it just his paranoia? Maybe he was just scared of himself. **It's okay,** Jean's voice said inside his head. Scott cringed and whispered telepathically, **Jean, I'm fine.** He looked up to see Cable tossing some darts. He walked over to Nathan. "Hello, Nathan," he said, standing to the side. "Hello, Scott," Nathan said, as he tossed another dart into the bullseye. "I thought you call me 'Slymm'," Scott said, as he watched his son. Nathan had changed a great deal over the year or so that Scott had been gone. Cable still retained the white hair and the scar over his eye, but his face had fewer wrinkles than before and he seemed to have slimmed down slightly. Scott smiled slightly. He could see the resemblance to himself. "Yeah, well, I forgot." **A telepath never forgets. You know that.** Scott reached out, startling Nathan as he tossed the dart. It landed at the edge of the dartboard. **Sorry.** Nathan scowled and asked, **How did you do that? Your thoughts, they sounded like actual telepathic communication.** Scott shrugged in a confused way. **I just thought out loud.** "Scott? Nathan?" Jean said, as she stepped closer. Nathan said, "I have to leave. Excuse me." He went up to the dart board and yanked off the darts, one by one. "Wait!" Scott said, as he put his hand on Nathan's shoulder. **Maybe, we can talk later. Are you okay, son?** "I'm fine," Nathan replied, as yanked himself away. He walked off in a hurry, dropping the darts on the table. Scott sighed as he looked around. He then looked down at his beer and drank the rest of it. Scott sighed as he stared out over the quiet pool. The water rippled as the gentle wind softly blew. A part of him wanted to go back to the celebrations, but he'd had enough celebrating for one night. He'd told them and they'd understood. He'd made up some excuse about checking the records to get updated about what had occurred over the past year. They still believed that Scott was all business and no fun. Jean had gone to bed since she had barely slept all day. He needed to be alone anyway and sort out his mind. "It's hard isn't it?" a familiar voice said, as Scott looked up to see an old friend. "Ororo. What are you doing here?" he asked. He felt somewhat tempted to call her 'Stormy', but that would just make her even more concerned about his well-being. "You seem disturbed about something," she observed, as she sat down. "I'm fine," Scott said, as he looked down again and touched the cool water's surface with his fingertips. More tiny ripples appeared where he touched the water. "Is it about Remy and Rogue being leaders of the X-Men?" Scott remained silent as he slowly looked up at her. Ororo's long white hair whipped along her back as her glowing white eyes pierced the darkness. Finally he said, "I'm content with Rogue being a leader." "What about Remy?" Scott's red-on-black eyes flared to a solid red for a brief second then back down, and he said, "I'm still thinking about that." "You had given up leadership before." "I know. I trusted you to be a leader to the X-Men in my absence. You did a good job. Why didn’t you keep it?" "I was busy helping Jean cope with your ... disappearance," she said finally. "I'm aware of that. Thank you. I know how hard it is to lose a loved one," he said, and grinned. "You used to comfort me when I thought I'd lost Jean." He picked up his hand from the water and wiped it on his shirt. "I'm sorry." Scott stared at her and asked as he held her hands, "About thinking that I was dead?" "No. I mean, I often thought that if I had been a better leader, you wouldn't have suffered like you did," Ororo said, as she jerked away. His touch felt so different from before to her sensitive hands. "That was another reason I didn't want to be team leader for a while. I wasn't sure if I was good enough." "You did fine," he said, as he backed away, "And don't feel so paranoid about me. I can tell by all those clouds starting to appear." Ororo looked up and frowned. Clouds had moved in around the mansion. She waved her hand and they scattered away. "I'm sorry," she said again, as she looked at Scott who just stood there. He had his ruby quartz glasses on again, despite the fact he didn't need them anymore. "Why?" she asked, gesturing. "So you can recognize me," he replied, as he knelt down again. "I can recognize you without the glasses," Ororo stated, as she reached out and tried to take the glasses. Scott dodged the hand and said, "I feel more comfortable this way." "Of course," she said, as the wind started to gust around them. More ripples on the water formed, as Scott stood there, calm. "I'm going to try to sleep," he said, as he walked toward the mansion. "Hank told me that he'll be doing a ton of testing on me tomorrow." He frowned as he said the last part. "He's just worried about you. Your powers are different." "I know," Scott said, "but the way Hank looked at me. It's like to him I'm some time bomb that needs to be defused or destroyed. Is that how all of you see me? Like I'm some trap?" Ororo opened her mouth to reply, when Scott added, "And tell me the truth. I respect people who are honest with me." A gust of wind blew as Ororo closed her mouth again. More ripples danced on the water as Scott stared at her. Finally, she replied, "It's just that you were one with Apocalypse for a long time. Who knows what he did to your mind? And Sinister did create your new body. It's hard to accept." "That I'm alive? That I'm really Scott Summers and not some damn clone? Why is it so hard to accept that, Ororo?" Tears started to come to Scott's eyes as he looked down. He closed his eyes, wiping away the tears. Ororo went up to him and hugged him. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I've never felt so untrusted before in my life," he said. "I want to be a leader again, but how can I be a leader if my own team won't trust me?" "I can't answer that," Ororo said, as she let go. "I know," he said. "Do you know what's even more painful?" Ororo turned her eyes to him and asked, "What?" "I think Nathan still doesn't really believe that I'm his father." "Are you sure?" Ororo asked, sounding surprised. "He barely looked at me without glaring. I tried to talk to him, but he just kept on turning away like he hates me." "He's been through a great deal over the past year," Ororo said. "But he was mourning you. As part of his costume, he wore your old visor around his neck in memory of you." "But ... I'm alive right now," Scott said, as he recalled Nathan wearing something familiar around his neck when he was ambushed by his family when he first returned to New York City. "I know," Ororo said. "Nathan has just been through a lot. He'll open up. He did miss you." "I know," Scott said, as he stood up. "I'm going to try to sleep. G'night, Ororo." "Good night, Scott," Ororo said, as she watched Scott walk off into the mansion. In the security area, the cameras humed as a group of people watched Scott enter the mansion and out of sight. "So, is he showing anything different?" "Frustration, anger, paranoia ... typical reactions from someone in his situation." "Should we worry?" "It's too soon to tell. He's obviously gained new powers from Sinister. The question is, what is the full extent?" "We must keep an eye on him. There's no telling what he might do." "But this is Scott. He's the first X-Men. He's been in the business from the beginning." "Yes. That also means that he's dangerous. He knows about virtually every X-Man here. Except for Re-animator and Thunderbird." "Many of the X-Men have different uses for their powers from before. Gambit and Cecilia have been able to use them in different ways that he couldn’t imagine before." "So has Scott. Did you see what he did with the pool table? I think he also gained some level of telepathy. I sensed it when he 'spoke' to me." "So, it's settled. We must keep an eye on him no, pun intended and watch for any signs that Scott's mind isn't all there." "Oh my stars and garters, I never thought that we would be talking about Scott like this." "Things change, Hank. Remember that one time when Scott nearly lost it back when we were part of X-Factor?" "Perhaps, Robert, but Scott has always been reliable until now. I don't know what to make of him." The figures in the shadows came ou t of the room. Bobby, Hank, Nathan, and Warren stood in the hallways. "Who wants the first shift?" Warren asked. "I will," Hank said. "I have to do more tests on him anyway." In the shadows, a man watched the group and a small tear trickled down from an eye. He stepped back and walked off. He walked into the Danger Room and closed the doors. If for a brief second the Danger Room wasn’t sound proof, the sounds of sobs and blasts would emanate from the doors.
[ Author Index ] [ Fan Art ] [ Links ] [ Main Page ] [ Story Index ] [ Submission Guidelines ] [ Updates ] [ Webrings ] |