Fic - Heavy Lies the Head
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shadowknightTitle: Heavy Lies the Head
Rating: G
Universe: Home
Timeline: January 28th, 2006
Written: January 28th, 2006
Summary: A followup from the last one; the Field Commanders at breakfast.
"So, how did it go with Rick?"
The breakfast plates were long since off the table, the light seeping in through the window at Harry's was a late morning hue.
"Pretty good. We might be getting somewhere."
Scott nodded, picking up his coffee mug and sipping on it, looking out of the window reflectively. New England couldn't seem to quite decide what it wanted to do, weatherwise, and Westchester was warm. Most of the snow had already melted off of the ground, and it was foggy this morning when they'd left the Estate. "Anything I should know?"
"You can ask Logan if he'll work with him on self-defense."
Mike was in a quiet mood this morning; that wasn't that uncommon, though, these days. Even before the others had vanished into another realm, he had those days where he just didn't seem to want to talk all that much. And though he wouldn't outright mention it, Scott missed the bright chatterbox that had once driven just about everyone on the Xavier Estate crazy at some point or another.
But heavy lies the head that wears the crown.
"How're the rest?"
"Fine."
Scott bit back a sigh, looking at the light coming in, eternally red in his vision. There were times he missed color, and this was one of them; for a good number of years he had been able to see colors again, and it had been incredible to see just how much he had missed. Even in his memory, the color of his troubled childhood had been vibrant and wonderful.
Now it was all just shades of red again.
He shook his head hard. He already knew that Mike's mood was influencing his, and it was hard to block it out, but for both their sakes he made an effort to. "Hear any good jokes?"
"Not really."
Scott remembered a time when Mike would spout off witty one-liners every other sentence it seemed. Remembered, too, the mocking he withstood. Then again, Mike hadn't been a leader yet then, though he was gunning for it pretty much from the start, however subconsciously. He'd just been a rebel, though a good-natured one, who made light of most things and raged back at the rest. Sometimes Scott missed that, too. Even if it had ended up coming to blows a few times.
"They will come home, you know," the X-Men's field commander said, after the silence had gone too long.
It took Mike some time to answer it, as well, but he did, "I hope so."
"Do you feel like they will?"
"I feel like..." A pause. "...like if they do, I won't know them and they won't know me."
Scott frowned. It was a valid enough concern, but unfounded. That team cared more about each other than any team he'd ever served on, up to and including his own. Even though most of the X-Men were considered his family, not all of them always were; people came, left, came back, died, were resurrected... it wasn't as stable as ShadowKnight.
Mike didn't need prompted to add, "This is the longest we've ever been apart."
Not even the universe being destroyed had kept them apart. Scott knew better than anyone; he had been the one to destroy it. Mike didn't remember it, and that was for the better anyway -- all he knew was that one minute he was where he should be, and the next he wasn't and had to find his way back home.
He knew, though, that the universe had been destroyed for him. Time itself, the fabric of everything torn asunder, all for the sake of one man. Needless to say, he made it clear that no one was ever to do anything like that for him again -- life happens, and death happens, and that's the way that it has to be.
Scott still didn't regret it, though, and he never would.
"When're you coming home?" he asked, knowing that Mike would understand the question.
"I'm trying," Mike answered, a faint edge of frustration in his voice. But almost immediately he amended, "I have good moments and bad moments. But I'm trying."
If it were anyone else, Scott might have questioned that. A lot of people... most people... tended to say whatever it took to stop the prodding. And while Mike wasn't above some misdirection on occasion, he never really failed to answer questions honestly.
"I don't know." Mike had been on the edge of saying something, but that was all he really could come up with. There still weren't really words to describe it all. The heartbreak, the hope, the despair, the joy, the want for companionship, the need to be alone. It was a royal mess.
"I get it," Scott said, and he did. For lack of anything better to say, he repeated, "I get it."
"I know."
It was strange, sometimes, to realize that they were peers. Not that Scott had ever really considered Mike less than an equal, but it was odd to look back over the years and realize that the man sitting across from him was battle-tested and proven; a leader, just like himself. That they had both bled on the battlefield. That they had both faced certain death. The only thing they didn't share in common was having to bury one of their teammates.
He remembered when the ShadowKnights had thought Joel was dead. And remembered too clearly the sheer amount of despair it had caused. He hesitated to even imagine what it would have been like if they hadn't figured it out so quickly. He highly doubted that they would have survived... they might have lived, but ShadowKnight would have inevitably fallen apart. The loss of one would destroy them all.
Mike hadn't let Joel get too far away after that; stuck within a short radius of the inventor pretty much steadily for weeks. Alaska made it even worse -- then they could barely stand to be out of visual range, or at least hearing range, of one another. Scott couldn't blame them, though; if they hadn't stuck together like glue, one or both might've lost it. And the whole team, from the relatively new Adrie to the original founder Kitty, rallied.
It was hard being on the outside of that. Hard to know he couldn't really help them.
But he was proud to see them fight back from something that might've broken them, too.
"Logan's proud of you." Scott picked up his coffee mug, taking a sip. "We all are."
Mike steadfastly maintained his position on the whole damn thing, though. "I had to."
Translated: "It was nothing to be proud of. It just had to be. It had to be."
It made Scott even more proud.
He hadn't ever quite let go of the opinion that Mike would be better off in some other life; someplace other than this. Hadn't let go of the opinion that this would kill him someday, no matter how much he trained or how well he fought, or even despite any divine power handed to him. Times like this, though, made him wonder.
He would have let the conversation fall, but he didn't. Instead, he added one more thing.
"They still love you. We all do."
For the first time that day so far, Mike quirked a half-smile back. "I know."
They left it at that.
Rating: G
Universe: Home
Timeline: January 28th, 2006
Written: January 28th, 2006
Summary: A followup from the last one; the Field Commanders at breakfast.
"So, how did it go with Rick?"
The breakfast plates were long since off the table, the light seeping in through the window at Harry's was a late morning hue.
"Pretty good. We might be getting somewhere."
Scott nodded, picking up his coffee mug and sipping on it, looking out of the window reflectively. New England couldn't seem to quite decide what it wanted to do, weatherwise, and Westchester was warm. Most of the snow had already melted off of the ground, and it was foggy this morning when they'd left the Estate. "Anything I should know?"
"You can ask Logan if he'll work with him on self-defense."
Mike was in a quiet mood this morning; that wasn't that uncommon, though, these days. Even before the others had vanished into another realm, he had those days where he just didn't seem to want to talk all that much. And though he wouldn't outright mention it, Scott missed the bright chatterbox that had once driven just about everyone on the Xavier Estate crazy at some point or another.
But heavy lies the head that wears the crown.
"How're the rest?"
"Fine."
Scott bit back a sigh, looking at the light coming in, eternally red in his vision. There were times he missed color, and this was one of them; for a good number of years he had been able to see colors again, and it had been incredible to see just how much he had missed. Even in his memory, the color of his troubled childhood had been vibrant and wonderful.
Now it was all just shades of red again.
He shook his head hard. He already knew that Mike's mood was influencing his, and it was hard to block it out, but for both their sakes he made an effort to. "Hear any good jokes?"
"Not really."
Scott remembered a time when Mike would spout off witty one-liners every other sentence it seemed. Remembered, too, the mocking he withstood. Then again, Mike hadn't been a leader yet then, though he was gunning for it pretty much from the start, however subconsciously. He'd just been a rebel, though a good-natured one, who made light of most things and raged back at the rest. Sometimes Scott missed that, too. Even if it had ended up coming to blows a few times.
"They will come home, you know," the X-Men's field commander said, after the silence had gone too long.
It took Mike some time to answer it, as well, but he did, "I hope so."
"Do you feel like they will?"
"I feel like..." A pause. "...like if they do, I won't know them and they won't know me."
Scott frowned. It was a valid enough concern, but unfounded. That team cared more about each other than any team he'd ever served on, up to and including his own. Even though most of the X-Men were considered his family, not all of them always were; people came, left, came back, died, were resurrected... it wasn't as stable as ShadowKnight.
Mike didn't need prompted to add, "This is the longest we've ever been apart."
Not even the universe being destroyed had kept them apart. Scott knew better than anyone; he had been the one to destroy it. Mike didn't remember it, and that was for the better anyway -- all he knew was that one minute he was where he should be, and the next he wasn't and had to find his way back home.
He knew, though, that the universe had been destroyed for him. Time itself, the fabric of everything torn asunder, all for the sake of one man. Needless to say, he made it clear that no one was ever to do anything like that for him again -- life happens, and death happens, and that's the way that it has to be.
Scott still didn't regret it, though, and he never would.
"When're you coming home?" he asked, knowing that Mike would understand the question.
"I'm trying," Mike answered, a faint edge of frustration in his voice. But almost immediately he amended, "I have good moments and bad moments. But I'm trying."
If it were anyone else, Scott might have questioned that. A lot of people... most people... tended to say whatever it took to stop the prodding. And while Mike wasn't above some misdirection on occasion, he never really failed to answer questions honestly.
"I don't know." Mike had been on the edge of saying something, but that was all he really could come up with. There still weren't really words to describe it all. The heartbreak, the hope, the despair, the joy, the want for companionship, the need to be alone. It was a royal mess.
"I get it," Scott said, and he did. For lack of anything better to say, he repeated, "I get it."
"I know."
It was strange, sometimes, to realize that they were peers. Not that Scott had ever really considered Mike less than an equal, but it was odd to look back over the years and realize that the man sitting across from him was battle-tested and proven; a leader, just like himself. That they had both bled on the battlefield. That they had both faced certain death. The only thing they didn't share in common was having to bury one of their teammates.
He remembered when the ShadowKnights had thought Joel was dead. And remembered too clearly the sheer amount of despair it had caused. He hesitated to even imagine what it would have been like if they hadn't figured it out so quickly. He highly doubted that they would have survived... they might have lived, but ShadowKnight would have inevitably fallen apart. The loss of one would destroy them all.
Mike hadn't let Joel get too far away after that; stuck within a short radius of the inventor pretty much steadily for weeks. Alaska made it even worse -- then they could barely stand to be out of visual range, or at least hearing range, of one another. Scott couldn't blame them, though; if they hadn't stuck together like glue, one or both might've lost it. And the whole team, from the relatively new Adrie to the original founder Kitty, rallied.
It was hard being on the outside of that. Hard to know he couldn't really help them.
But he was proud to see them fight back from something that might've broken them, too.
"Logan's proud of you." Scott picked up his coffee mug, taking a sip. "We all are."
Mike steadfastly maintained his position on the whole damn thing, though. "I had to."
Translated: "It was nothing to be proud of. It just had to be. It had to be."
It made Scott even more proud.
He hadn't ever quite let go of the opinion that Mike would be better off in some other life; someplace other than this. Hadn't let go of the opinion that this would kill him someday, no matter how much he trained or how well he fought, or even despite any divine power handed to him. Times like this, though, made him wonder.
He would have let the conversation fall, but he didn't. Instead, he added one more thing.
"They still love you. We all do."
For the first time that day so far, Mike quirked a half-smile back. "I know."
They left it at that.
