These characters do not belong to me, and I make no profit from this story.
Damsel in Distress
Scott
could never resist a damsel in distress.
Breathing
hard, he skidded to a halt when he heard the soft whimpering. The hushed silence
of these crisp, clear, early winter mornings always made him feel like he was
alone in the universe.
Except
he wasn't alone, of course. "Hello?" he croaked, hands on his knees,
taking deep breaths. He'd managed five miles already, breaking his personal
record.
The
whimpering grew louder, more frantic, as if the maker had heard him. Scott
listened intently, then set off into the woods, following the sound. The trees
grew closer, with more undergrowth and less light. He slipped on wet moss, swore
under his breath, and then scrambled over a fallen tree.
"Hello,"
he said softly. A wretched, white labrador puppy met his gaze. She was
shivering, curled in the gap under the fallen tree, on a heap of dry leaves. He
picked her up gently. She huddled into his windbreaker. Instinctively, he pulled
it around her. She was a tiny, icy presence against his chest.
"No
collar," he noted. "Where do you come from?" There were no houses
around for miles. The puppy didn't answer. His hand came up of its own accord
and patted her soothingly, with long strokes along her back.
****
"There's
been no response to the advertisement, Professor. I don't think we'll ever find
her proper owner. I'll train her to guard the premises," Scott promised.
"And she can be useful for the younger children, too - a way to feel more
at ease."
Xavier
smiled. "Scott," he said gently, "you don't need my permission.
It's all right for you to have a dog."
Scott
blushed. "Thank you. I promise she won't get in the way." He left
Xavier's office.
Xavier
knew but was too polite to mention, that he wanted this dog because he wanted
something that was his. The mansion and school belonged to the Professor. Jean
belonged to - well, Jean belonged to herself, for all that their relationship
made him ache with the sweet intensity of it. The X-Men were the Professor's as
well, for all that Scott led the team.
The
puppy would be his. His to care for, his to train.
****
Scott
took her to the courtyard in the early morning, when few people were around, and
placed her on the concrete. He knelt beside her. "Sit," he said
patiently, pushing down on her rump. She looked up at him adoringly.
"Sit." She sniffed at the treat in his other hand. He gave it to her,
then took another from the bag.
Kitty
rushed over to him. "The puppy! Oh, how cute!" She gathered her up,
laughing as the dog wriggled. "What are you going to call her?"
Scott
sighed, sitting back on his haunches. "I was trying to train her, Kitty,
not name her. I'm thinking about what to call her, now that I know she'll
probably be here for good."
"Snowflake?
Snowball? I know - Frosty. Heh. Frosty the Snowdog," Kitty decided, not
listening.
"I
was thinking of something more utilitarian," Scott said, exasperated.
"I'm
sorry, Fearless Leader," Kitty said solemnly. She looked at her watch.
"Ooh, must fly!" She bundled the puppy back into Scott's lap and
headed back into the building.
The
puppy clambered up, put her front paws on his shoulder, and ecstatically started
licking his chin. "Stop that," he said disapprovingly, protective hand
to his visor, but he didn't move her. She stayed well away from his visor,
rasping her tongue along his chin. The corners of his mouth started to quirk
reluctantly, and soon he was grinning. His arms came up around the puppy,
holding her close.
He thought back to his Italian lessons. [I need something that sounds tougher than 'Frosty'. Hmmm, ice. . .] "Come on, Nevoso," he said when the puppy tired of her new game. "Let's get you some breakfast."
