FIC: Shut Your Eyes (Scott) G (1/1)
- **IMPT Note: I'm a movie fan. Therefore, I don't know
the comic canon on Scott's past. I've been told what it is,
and it sounds really complicated, and it didn't inspire
plot 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). Got that? I am *defying* comic
canon. You have been warned!**
Title: Shut Your Eyes
Author: Phoenix (lifefromfire@...)
Character/Pairing: Scott, no pairing.
Summary: The police bring Scott home after the first
outbreak of his powers.
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: The stampede continues... Of the four stories I've
posted so far, this one and one other were inspired by
feedback. So were the other two bunnies currently in my
head. Thus, feedback = bunnies, which lead to fic.
*Shut Your Eyes*
Scott stood on the doorstep of his own home, his eyes
screwed shut, his palms pressed against them for good
measure. The police officer's hand on his shoulder felt
heavy, like the scared knot in his stomach. At seventeen,
guys didn't admit they were afraid of anything. But he
*was* scared. Another headache was building. What if
opening his eyes was the only way to release the
pressure? What if his only choice was between the
blinding pain of the headache, which would surely only
get worse the longer he denied it, and destroying things?
Or killing people. None of the girls in the other
washroom had been hurt, but that was a lucky break and
Scott knew it. He couldn't see to make sure it was safe,
so he wouldn't open his eyes. And really, what was safe?
Who knew what the range of his deadly gaze was.
Suddenly the phrase "if looks could kill" didn't seem
funny anymore. They could and they would, and the
only thing between disaster and peace were his eyelids.
But how long can you keep your eyes shut? How long
before the tempation to see something, *anything*
grows too strong to resist? What then?
The police officer rang the doorbell. Scott could hear it
chiming inside the house. A long moment of silence, and
then footsteps. Clicking noises - the door opening.
Would this be his life now? Sounds, full of sounds, but
"Yes, officer? Scott! Are you okay?" His mom sounded
worried, and a little bit panicked. "Is everything all
right?" He couldn't tell who she was talking to, him or
the cop, so he didn't say anything.
"Your son's fine, ma'am. There was an accident, some
damage was done, but everyone is fine." Scott felt his
mom's gentle grip descend on his shoulder, as if to pull
him away from the officer. The man held his grip.
"There's more. May I come in?"
Silence, but they started moving forward, so Scott
figured his mom had nodded. The policeman guided him
into the room and, daring to rely on only his eyelids,
Scott felt for the edge of the couch in the living room
and sat down. The silence stretched on and on, and Scott
began to wonder if they'd left him alone and gone
somewhere else to talk. Surely he would have heard
Then suddenly he wondered if his dad knew. If he'd
heard what had happened, and he knew, and he didn't
care what happened to Scott anymore. His mom
wouldn't talk to the police without his dad, and maybe
his dad didn't want to be near him.
All at once the silence and the sightlessness was too
much, and he almost opened his eyes just to see what
was happening. He didn't, but he broke out into a cold
sweat just thinking of how close he'd come. His mom
could have been sitting in front of him.
Someone cleared their throat. Probably the cop, because
he broke the silence. "Your, uh, son was involved in an
incident at the dance, Mr. and Mrs. Summers." His dad
must have come in during that long quiet moment. Scott
shifted uncomfortably in the couch. They were talking
like he wasn't there, and he couldn't even tell that they
"Apparently he had an argument with his girlfriend
during the dance. She left, went to the girls washroom.
He followed, but one of the teachers says he went into
the boys washroom instead." There was a pause and a
rustling of paper. Scott figured the policeman was
checking his notes. "Your son complained of a
headache," now there was an understatement, "and one
of the other boys say his eyes, uh, 'glowed red'."
There was a choked sound, as if someone was going to
say something, but that was all. Scott was starting to
have trouble breathing properly. 'Glowed red'. The
phrase sounded melodramatic, but it somehow belonged
in nightmare his life had become. Glowed red, like a
demon, an alien...something inhuman, anyway.
The cop pushed on, sounding a little skeptical but
sticking to the facts as he had them. "Shortly after than,
red light shot out of his eyes. It struck the bathroom
wall, demolished it, passed through the girls bathroom
and punched through another wall. At that point your
son closed his eyes, and the beam disappeared." Scott
could feel the weight of eyes on him.
Suddenly he was really angry. It wasn't *his* fault! He
didn't ask for this! And he stopped it, didn't he? The
damned cop could at least use his name! Scott had told it
to him. He was still a person!
"Scott destroyed two walls with his eyes." Despite the
flat sound of the comment, Scott was relieved his dad
had at least used his name.
"Yes, sir. I was skeptical myself, but there were a
number of witnesses. Including your son, who hasn't
opened his eyes since the incident. He says he can feel
the energy inside, waiting to come out like it did in the
bathroom." Abruptly, the term witness seemed horribly
ironic to Scott.
His own explanation sounded damning when repeated in
the comfort of his living room. Energy inside his head,
waiting to come out. That wasn't normal. That wasn't
The breath the policeman took was so deep Scott could
hear it. "We believe your son is a mutant, sir."
He wanted to shout a denial, wanted to scream it and run
away. To his room, outside, anywhere. But he knew it
was true. There wasn't really another explanation. And
he couldn't run. Because he couldn't see where to go, and
because no one would give him a place.
Now that he'd lost his eyes, Scott couldn't help but see
how very dark the world had become.
There wasn't much more for the cop to say, so he asked
Scott's parents to keep an eye on him, and he left. "Scott,
go to your room," he heard his dad say, "your mother
and I need to talk." But Scott couldn't see, so he stood
carefully and felt his way across the room to the hall,
down the hall to the stairwell, up the stairwell to another
room. Two doors down, and he found his safe haven.
Except it looked just like everywhere else, now.
No one offered to help. Stillness enveloped Scott, broken
only briefly by raised voices.
"He's just a child!" His mother.
"He's not a child, he's a mutant!" His father. Scott
winced where he lay on his bed, safe from unseen
obstacles scattered over the floor. His eyes were hot, but
he couldn't tell if it was the energy in his head or tears.
He tasted blood, and realized he'd bitten through his lip.
"He's *is* a child and he deserves a chance, dammit!"
His mother never swore.
"A chance? What the hell are we supposed to do with
him? He can't go back to school, and he can't stay here!"
"This is his *home*..."
"All he has to do is blink. Think about that. Think about
the people outside, if you won't think of your family.
Walls won't stop those eyes of his." Already he wasn't
part of the family anymore... Tears ran down Scott's
cheeks and, suddenly scared, he jammed his hands over
his eyes again. What if he blinked to clear the tears, and
the red beams slipped out?
"Honey, what are we supposed to do?"
"I don't know..." Voices, sad now instead of angry,
dropped below the level Scott could hear. "I just don't
Staring into the red-tinted darkness behind his eyelids,
Scott tried not to think too far ahead. Planning what to
do was out of the question. The further he looked, the
less of a future he could see. It was better not to think