**IMPT Note: I'm a movie fan. I've been referred to the
comic canon on Scott's past, and it still sounds really
complicated, and damn near killed my bunnies, so I'm
ignoring it. This fic is based on the movie and the
novelization (which you *don't* need to read to
understand this). I am *defying* comic canon.
You have been warned!**
Title: Rediscoveries (sequel to Shut Your Eyes)
Author: Phoenix (lifefromfire@...
Teaser: Two months after the events of "Shut Your
Eyes", Scott meets a man who brings hope.
Genre: Drama, I guess. Scott, no pairing.
Distribution: Want it? Take it. Just give me credit. Feel
free to forward to other lists, too, as long and you
forward any feedback to me.
Disclaimer: Trust me, if they belonged to me, Scott
would have had much more screen time. They belong to
Marvel (I think). I make no money.
Notes: Sequel to "Shut Your Eyes". I got this bunny
while writing that one. It interrupted the slash bunny I
was writing, and it was short, so I indulged it. I hope it
lives up to "Shut Your Eyes". Please let me know.
Thanks/Dedication: To kaly, who sat up with me until
insane hours of the morning betaing. Sleep? What sleep?
Why sleep when we can have hysterical fun devising
endorsements for raybans! One small step for Scott, one
giant leap for rayban... Jean wouldn't thank us, but
Logan might. <g> kaly, you are powerful, to not only
make me see a character I like, but to make me stay up
late writing fic for him, complaining about people who
don't do him justice, and happily betaing for you when
I've never betaed before! It's all your fault! <laughs>
(See, told ya I'd respond <g>). Wait...there was supposed
to be a fic in here? Right. Okay, back to business...
Scott was listening to the TV when the doorbell rang. He
stood, barely paused to turn off the set and was carefully
finding his way to the stairs when a familiar set of clicks
told him the door was being unlocked and opened. He
cursed under his breath, trying to move faster. He
couldn't deal with this, not again, not anymore. Couldn't
they just leave him *alone*?
Visitors in the past two months hadn't been friendly.
Reporters that had heard of the 'incident' at the dance
kept showing up with invasive comments. Parents
worried for their children watched him constantly - he
could feel their eyes, even if he couldn't see them
looking. The kids themselves hurled cruel words at him,
tempting him to unleash his power on them. Instead he
shut his eyes tighter, and hunched his shoulders against
their verbal barbs.
It was enough to make Scott want to hide from the
world. He'd shut himself away from it when he closed
his eyes, but he hadn't realized the harsher parts would
chase after him. It wasn't *fair*. If he was going to give
up the world, why couldn't he give up *all* of it? He did
all he could, and that included making himself scarce
when his parents answered the door.
He had his foot on the first step when the dreaded words
reached his ears. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Summers. My
name is Charles Xavier. I was hoping I might have a
word with your son."
Something stopped Scott from bolting up the stairs. He
couldn't have said what it was, but his mom must have
felt it, too, because she didn't respond the way she had to
everyone else. "Why?" Instead of resentful, or
protective, she merely sounded curious. Odd...his mother
had become his gauge on the outside world. Her simple
question made him willing to hear the response.
The tone of Xavier's answer was grave, but reassuring.
"Because he's very alone right now, Mrs. Summers. He's
been cut off from the world, or the world has abandoned
him. He needs someone to show him the way back.
Someone to help him see the future again."
Maybe it was stupid, but it was that phrase 'see the
future' that brought Scott back into the living room.
"Mom?" he asked, a bit uncertainly, not sure she was
still there. "It's okay. I'll talk to him."
"If you're sure..." His mother trailed off, but a moment
later there was the sound of the door shutting. Scott
frowned. Why couldn't he hear footsteps? He went and
sat on the couch, letting his visitor come to him, because
there was nothing to tell him where Xavier was.
And then somehow he knew where to look, knew to
offer his hand at waist height, rather than to lift it higher.
"Scott Summers," he introduced himself.
His hand was taken in a firm, dry grip. "Charles Xavier.
It's good to meet you." Scott nodded, not sure how to
respond to that. "I suppose you're wondering why I'm
"Not really." The words slip out before he can stop them,
but he can't regret that they've been said, no matter how
rude it was. "Everyone comes for the same reason. They
heard about what I did, and they're scared. Or they're
worried. Or they're curious, and they want a demo." The
words come fast, his tone growing firmer with every
sentence. "I'm sorry, but I'm not a sideshow freak. I
don't perform on command. And you don't need to
worry. I closed my eyes, and it stopped. I'm not going to
open them again."
The man that sat before Scott probably didn't deserve to
hear that outburst. It wasn't aimed at his visitor, but at
the world that at once rejected Scott and hounded him
for what he'd become. Now that someone was finally
*listening* Scott discovered the words needed to say
what he'd been feeling.
"Of course you are," Xavier said, sounding almost
proud, "but not for me. You'll open your eyes because
you can't see without them. And you're going to need to
Scott tilted his head. "Why?"
There was hardly a pause before he spoke, but somehow
Scott knew the answer he got wasn't the whole story.
"I've founded a school. It's in Westchester County, New
York. I created it for people, for children, who need a
sanctuary. Children with gifts, like you, and like me."
The words rang true, but Scott found himself growing
more and more curious about the further purpose he
somehow knew was lurking. Sanctuary. A place of
safety, for children. But children need guardians... The
idea that was forming in Scott's mind was vague, but it
fit with Xavier in a way a darker purpose would not
have. Still, it was so hard to trust blindly...
"Give me one reason I should believe you can do any of
that. Give me one reason I should trust you." The words
were phrased as a challenge, but spoken as a plea. Safety
had become a dream in the past two months, a dream
that grew more distant with every day his dad refused to
speak to him. With every friend that hung up the phone
on him. With every day he woke, his eyes taped shut
because he didn't trust himself not to blink when he first
"Come outside with me, and I'll show you the reason." In
the world of sounds that Scott's life had become, there
was something about this man's voice that said 'trust me'.
He reached out, and his fingers found an arm. "Hold
onto the back of my chair, and I'll take you outside."
This man was in a wheelchair? As soon as the thought
surfaced, Scott felt ashamed of it. Personal strength
wasn't necessarily reflected in physical strength. It was
something he'd always known but never really
understood, until now... Maybe it was true.
They stopped on the sidewalk that bisected Scott's lawn.
He could see it in his mind's eye, but quickly shoved the
familiar image aside. Imagination was temptation.
"I spoke to the doctor that examined you after your gift
manifested," Xavier began. Scott found himself grinning
for the first time since the prom. 'After his gift
manifested', not 'after the incident'. "And I spoke to the
people that were there. It took me longer than I would
have liked, but I eventually discovered something I'd
like you to have." Something brushed against Scott's
hands. Sunglasses? He frowned. Was this some kind of a
joke, after all?
"Trust me, Scott."
There's power in a name. It was the loss of his name that
told him the world had rejected him. Maybe, just maybe,
part of the world was ready to take him back. Scott took
the sunglasses and slipped them on carefully. They
hugged his head as if they'd been made for him, and the
frames traced a path around his eyes, fitting more closely
than any glasses he'd worn before. Trusting Xavier, but
not himself, he turned his face towards the sky. He could
have done this before. It would probably have been safe,
but if imagination were temptation, then action would be
Opening his eyes was hard. They'd become gummed
shut, though he did his best to wipe a lot of it away.
More than that, it was hard to overcome weeks of
training his eyelids not to so much as flicker. It was hard
to hope. Most of all, it was hard to face the red beams
that he knew would emerge. To be forced to
acknowledge his mutation.
No. His gift.
Scott let out a long, nervous breath, and forced his eyes
open. He almost cried out as the beams lanced out. Just
in time, he realized that they traveled no farther than the
glasses he wore. Glasses with red lenses, so that the
entire world was bathed in ruby light, as if his...gift...had
escaped after all.
Scott lowered his head from a red sky to survey the red
tinted world before him. A man in a wheelchair was
looking up at him, smiling slightly. At that moment,
Scott recognized him. He was a dream. He was hope.
Scott blinked back tears, but found them falling anyway
when the simple freedom of that action struck him.
He let out a short, slightly hysterical laugh, and closed
his eyes briefly so that he could remove the glasses and
wipe the tears away. Replacing them, somehow not
ashamed of crying, he held out his hand and introduced
himself again. "Scott Summers. I'd like to go to
Westchester with you, Mr. Xavier."
Xavier's smile broadened. "The school will be glad to
have you, Scott."
"I'll be happy to attend it," Scott said, smiling. The
expression stretched muscles that had grown unused to
it. He smiled wider. "But that's not why I'm going. I'd
like to *work* with you."
Xavier looked started for a moment, then chuckled. "In
time, Scott. In time."