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Fic: Just a LIttle Patience... Gone (RR#38, PG, Scott, Candy

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  • Shaz
    Title: Just a Little Patience... Gone Author: Shaz (aerciura@mindspring.com) Series: RR #38 (post Phantom Pain and Fault Lines) Codes: Scott, Candy Rating:
    Message 1 of 1 , Oct 7, 2001
      Title: Just a Little Patience... Gone
      Author: Shaz (aerciura@...)
      Series: RR #38 (post Phantom Pain and Fault Lines)
      Codes: Scott, Candy
      Rating: PG (some language)
      Summary: Meeting Candy per her request in a cafe, Scott gets to confront
      his best friend's issues, and some of his own.
      Author Notes: Candy needed a fair part before anything happened to her....
      Archiving: RRindex, Muses' Fool


      The frown she was getting was bordering on infamous. Tapping on the side of
      her cappuccino cup, Candace Southern sighed at the impassive red lenses
      across from her and waved away the waitress approaching the table.

      The waitress almost seemed grateful.

      "So, talk to me before I get really brave and demand you to show me how
      narrowed your eyes are at me."

      Scott Summers growled at the usually prissy blonde and shook his head. His
      day had been nasty enough, what with the death/near death of Logan and
      Rogue's apparent new love of a dark, empty and locked room. Hmm, maybe he
      should be a bit happier to not be there right now... "You made me meet you
      at a cafe, Candy, not the mansion. Clearly, something's eating you. Care
      to share?"

      She nearly laughed at his response. If he were any more tense his head
      might explode. "Christ, Summers, maybe we should have met at a bar. I'm
      wondering about Warren."

      About to respond shortly, his attention was diverted by the live musician on
      the little stage belting out Guns 'n' Roses' "Patience."

      Oh, just wonderful timing. Slinking lowering in his chair, glancing at the
      door, Scott nearly bolted for freedom.


      Damn. No escape on the horizon. His frown deepened as he leaned back in
      the chair. Leave it to a rich little thing to hit a fresh weak spot without
      trying. "You want him back... again?"

      "Eh," she snorted and sipped at her cafe latte. Her relationship with
      Warren was immensely hard to explain. Fun, but hard to explain, even to his
      best friend. "'Again' is such a messy term. I'm back, French men bore me,
      and I got used to the wings... but I've heard things."

      "Like, say, about a red headed houseguest?"

      Candy nodded, enjoying the relative solitude of the tucked away table. "For
      a start. She's like you guys, and from what else I hear, not entirely

      Behind the ruby quartz, his stare darkened. His own fault in Jean Grey's
      reactions were blessedly clear to him, a wart of guilt to keep him ugly in
      his own eyes. But then again, his anger over the disruption she created was
      unignorable. "Warren took her in like a foundling, yeah, how quaint. You
      have NO idea how much has changed, do you?"

      "Oh please. Warren apologised on the phone for turning down a dinner offer
      last night. The last time he apologised, it was a snowy day in hell and I
      was being driven to the hospital for a bad reaction to sashimi. Something
      big is up. Who is she?"

      "Just... a woman," he lied. Yeah, right, Summers, tell yourself that enough
      and one day it'll sink in. "She was brought to us, and since life is
      hardly," he paused, letting emphasis sink in, "'norm,' we knew there'd be
      waves, but--"

      Candy arched a well manicured eyebrow. "Tsunami?"

      He sighed and slumped in the chair. Oh, for the memory of a few months ago
      to be his current reality. "God damned tsunami. Think they're together?"

      "Sex?" She pursed a lip and recalled the phone call she had made to the
      penthouse. Warren had been closed-mouthed, edgy, even tired sounding. That
      wasn't him, or the personality she fostered when she was around. Hell, what
      woman would want anything but the smiling, arrogant version around? "I
      doubt it. If that wasn't frustration-- and maybe I should blame you for it
      too-- I'll sell my Farragamo collection."

      His stare snapped up from his half-hearted study of the coffee swirling in
      his cup. "Excuse me?"

      "Oh, great, so that IS it. Jesus. So the girl on the phone was right,
      you're stag again too, and you want the runaway. How bad do you want this
      new one? Enough to be miserable for a good long while?"


      "Oh, just stop now." She scoffed and pushed her chair away. Standing up
      and putting out her hand for the shaking, she pulled it back when the custom
      tailored Oakleys regarded her open offering like a coiled snake. Leave it
      to Scott Summers to make her feel even more alien than him and his damned
      secret mutant school. Pulling a ten from her purse and dropping it to the
      table with a distasteful glare aimed his way, she mustered the last of
      courtesy. "Been real fun, Summers, but I think I'll talk to a tree over
      you. When you get your head fixed on straight and want some good girl
      advice, dig up my cell number at the mansion's rolodex."

      Watching the independently wealthy-- //how is it you get surrounded by so
      much of the good life and can't just plunge in, idiot?//-- heiress make her
      way out the cafe door with an irritated step, he bit his lip, glanced at the
      lipstick stained coffee cup on the table and mentally kicked himself.

      Lame, real lame. Blame someone who just had questions. Who wanted to get
      another side of the story. Someone who had no actual role in the mess at
      home. Hey why not ostracise the rest of New York while you're at it?

      "Candy!" Jumping up and moving past tables of curious onlookers, Scott
      skidded to a stop on the sidewalk as he caught her flagging down a taxi.
      "Candy, look, I'm sorry, that was rude."

      Her gaze remained fixed on the street, her fingers still hailing her escape
      from the pointless meeting. "Yes, yes, it was."

      He held out his own hands helplessly. "Look, what was your actual reason
      for calling me here?... I mean, you and I never really got along, but that's
      no reason--"

      "No," she corrected, adjusting her jacket to sit higher on her shoulders.
      Her look wasn't unfriendly, but in her eyes was just the slightest hint of
      anger. Well restrained, old anger. "You never liked me. I'm a Normal, and
      your best friend is too good for one of those. Heh. Listen to yourself,
      Summers, you're a wreck. You've got an ex now back at that damn school, and
      you're telling me to be careful about some redhead that Warren's got a claim
      to? Oh, piss off. I came to you because he's your friend and would clear
      this up for me, but after this charade, I'll just talk to him myself."

      Scott backed up and mentally kicked himself again. Clearing his throat,
      trying for some semblance of pride-- whatever was left anymore-- he took a
      deep breath and let it spill out from him like a flood. "It's not my fault.
      One day she-- the new woman-- just shows up at our door under the watchful
      eye of some... rough ass, and within two seconds, I swear to God, the world
      turns upside down. Then the redhead-- her name is Jean, by the way-- locks
      eyes with me for a damned split second and it's like--"

      She sighed. "Serendipity?"

      He nodded. "Yeah. We share a look and the next thing I know, there's one
      engagement shot to shit, Marie's playing in the water with Big an' Growly
      and we freak out an already screwed up woman even more. Jean's hiding at
      Warren's cause he's the lesser dick. He reached out to her when I wanted
      to, so yeah, maybe I should give up now. Fuck! They weren't lying and had
      every right to be doing what they damned well please. I was the ass."

      "Not really."

      "To her, yes. To my best friend? Definitely. What about you though?
      Shouldn't you be mad about Warren cheating?"

      "No," she shrugged, looking sidelong at the surrendered slump of Scott's
      shoulders. "Not really." A laugh escaped her lips as she dropped her hand,
      letting it dangle by her thigh. "But he does know I don't go for redheads."

      Scott opened his mouth, let the response sink in fully, then promptly closed
      his mouth. Forcing away visual images of what really could transpire-- yeah,
      just what he needed, envy over an open-minded girlfriend-- he shuffled his
      feet and tried to ignore the knot of tension making the coffee in his
      stomach unsettle. "So, who'd you call?"


      "At the mansion. To find out what was going on, and to leave that message
      for me."

      "Oh," Candace shrugged. "Jubilee answered the phone. She told me
      everything in detail, some of it I'd like to forget, even if I could
      understand it. Then she asked me if I wanted to get in on a bet."

      "She didn't really, did she?"

      "Oh yes she did. I said no, and that Wall Street was a safer way to invest
      money. She then called you guys ' love-sickened goofballs.'"

      The shuffle of his feet said it all. He wanted to agree, but couldn't let
      himself verbalise that sentiment.

      "So, anyways," Candy continued, "I'll just talk to Warren myself. He's
      supposed to be in Brooklyn later tonight doing routine inventory on his
      warehouses, so I'll just be at the right place at the right time."



      "Were you serious, what you said?"

      She arched an eyebrow, a mischievous smile curling up her cheek. "About not
      liking redheads? Yeah. Brunette, longer the better. God, I love long hair
      on women."

      Scott openly stammered. "That's not what I meant, but thanks for the great

      She laughed. Typical male. "Then what?"

      "About me..."

      "Oh," she shrugged, "yeah, you're a wreck, Summers. Go take a breather from
      the chaos and figure out what you need. Women are women, and if we see
      something we want, even if we can't get it, we sure as hell don't forget
      about it."

      "Hmm." Shoving his hands in pants pockets and nodding slowly, he relented
      the point. He was just SO tired of all the melodrama. Something had to
      give somewhere, and might just be his heart if he wasn't careful. "Maybe
      you're right."

      Candy turned to face him fully. "So what are you going do?"

      His expression gained a dram of determination. Finally he could close a few
      chapters on his recently screwed up life, pick up the pieces of a shattered
      fantasy existence. "I'm talking to Rogue one last time, and moving on in my
      life, wherever the god damn thing takes me."




      "'What makes you such a bitch, Emma?'
      'Breeding, darling. Top class breeding.'" -- Jean and Emma, NXM #116
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