Closer I'm Bound (the long distance remix)
Remix Author: Aldalindil
Original Story: Long Distance Relationship by Ion Bond
Summary: Four things that didn't happen to Scott Summers. Or so he pretends.
Rating: PG
Fandom: X-Men Movieverse
1. Blue
Scott wonders if he should tell them he can hear them. It's not like he's listening on purpose, or anything, but his hearing has seemed a lot better since the accident. Or maybe he's just using it more, paying attention to it, since he's been blind for a month now.
He's not really blind, though. His eyes still work, except that they burn and itch and shoot laser beams or something, so he's got patches over his eyelids and a ton of tape over that and a blindfold on top of that, just in case. But he could still see, if he took all that off. He's not blind. Yet.
He almost was. Father Michael called the doctors in to see him last week, and they were going to take his eyeballs out—which was just gross—before Professor Xavier and Dr. Lehnsherr came along yesterday, out of the blue. But Professor Xavier told him on the ride here that even they might not be able to help him fix his eyes, though they're going to try really hard.
So. Scott still might go blind. Up until last month, he'd never thought about it. Blind was, like, Helen Keller. And Stevie Wonder. And that law student in the special news story on TV. But sitting in bed with his eyes taped shut has given him a lot of time to think, and now blind means not ever getting to drive, and not being able to read, or watch TV, or play video games at the arcade, and not skateboarding, and not doing a lot of things. And now it's this really scary word, which is why Scott has said it to himself, over and over again, trying to get used to it. He read Dune last year, and even though he didn't really get a lot of it, he remembers "fear is the mind killer." He's trying not to let himself be afraid.
Having to be blind is better than blowing a hole through the ceiling again. Better than opening your eyes and killing the first person you see, right? Scott sighs and flops back against his pillow, running his fingers over the bedspread. It feels like there's a pattern on it, circles stitched into the fabric. It might be different colors all patched together. It might be pink, for all Scott knows. He imagines it's blue, though, dark like the borders on the thick ceramic plates at the boys' home. Dark like new blue jeans. He's determined not to forget these things, no matter what. He will always, always remember blue.
They're still talking about him, and Scott doesn't feel that bad about listening. It is about him, after all, and the house—school, whatever--is really quiet. The other two boys, Henry and Warren, are probably out playing basketball. Scott heard somebody dribbling in the hall earlier this morning, right before Dr. Lehnsherr called for those two to take it outside. Jean Grey poked her head in right after that and left the door open a little, apparently, so it's easy for Scott to hear the teachers' voices coming up the stairs.
"--still think he'd relate better to you, Charles," Dr. Lehnsherr is saying.
"Because I understand what it is to have a handicap?" Professor Xavier sounds amused, but Scott frowns. Professor Xavier is handicapped? He doesn't have a lot of time to consider it, though, because Dr. Lehnsherr smacks something down on something else.
"No," he says sharply, "because you're better at these sorts of things."
"Actually--" There's a tickling inside Scott's skull, like a feather brushing his brain—which is just weird—and he reaches up to scratch his head. The teachers go quiet for a minute, their voices just a faint murmur, and then something scrapes. A chair against the floor, maybe?
"Fine," Dr. Lehnsherr says, loud enough for Scott to hear again. "You brought the books?"
"On the front table."
Dr. Lehnsherr mutters something in reply, then there are more footsteps, coming up the stairs. Scott sits up, hooking his legs over the side of the bed, and tries to pretend he wasn't listening.
"Scott?" Dr. Lehnsherr knocks on the door frame. "It's Dr. Lehnsherr."
"I know."
"May I come in?"
"Yes, sir." Scott knows he should say something else, but after last night, he doesn't know what to say. Thanks for saving me? Thanks for telling me I'm a mutant? He wishes he knew what Dr. Lehnsherr looked like. Maybe he'd be easier to talk to if Scott could look him in the eye.
"Scott," Dr. Lehnsherr says, coming over to the bed. "Did you sleep well?"
"Yes, sir. Thank you."
"You weren't at breakfast. Would you like something to eat? Or to drink?"
"No, thank you."
There's a pause before Dr. Lehnsherr sighs. "Well. If you want anything, just ask. We have soda and milk and juice..."
"Okay."
Another pause, and then the bed dips as Dr. Lehnsherr sits on the edge. "Scott," he says again, carefully, and Scott flinches. This is the part where Dr. Lehnsherr is going to say that they talked it over and no, they can't fix him. Or that they thought about it and they don't want him, after all, because a blind mutant kid would be too much trouble. Or something.
"You will not have the use of your eyes for some time," Dr. Lehnsherr continues. "Months, at the very least. Professor Xavier and I have discussed your situation, and we would like you to spend this time learning to function without your sight."
Scott turns to him, frowning. "But I don't have a choice about that. Do I?"
"Of course you do," Dr. Lehnsherr says with a snort. "You can sit and wait to regain your vision, doing little in the meantime. Or, you can learn to live without it."
"Just in case. In case I have to be blind." His voice shakes a little on the word. He's going to need a lot more practice saying it out loud.
"Yes. Just in case you do." Dr. Lehnsherr clears his throat. "But the question is, if that is indeed the case, do you want to be a blind man who can read? Who can defend himself? Who can do almost everything everyone else can do? Or would you rather sit in your room, waiting for a miracle?" Dr. Lehnsherr sounds almost angry, and Scott swallows hard before he lifts his chin, tilting his face up to where he thinks Dr. Lehnsherr's is. It sounds like he's tall.
"I want to fight back."
"Good boy." Dr. Lehnsherr puts his hand on Scott's shoulder, making him jump. There's an awkward pause—Dr. Lehnsherr noticed the jump—and then he clears his throat again, pulling his hand away.
"We'll start with the Braille, then. Professor Xavier got some books from your old school last night."
"Great," Scott says, trying not to groan.
"And later," Dr. Lehnsherr continues, as if he didn't hear, "we will have our first lesson in the martial arts."
"You're kidding! Like the Karate Kid? I can't do that!"
"And our very first lesson," Dr. Lehnsherr says, sounding amused, "is to remove those four words from your vocabulary. You would be surprised, Mr. Summers, at the things you can still do."
He sounds surprisingly okay with all this, like dealing with a blind mutant kid isn't too much trouble, and Scott frowns, remembering something. "Professor Xavier isn't blind, is he?" Scott blurts out without really thinking.
"Of course not." Dr. Lehnsherr sounds startled. "Wherever did you get that idea?"
"I...um. I heard you two talking. Sorry. And he said something about being handicapped..." Scott shrugs. "You just seem really cool about this."
"Oh," Dr. Lehnsherr says, sounding even more flustered. "No, Charles uses a wheelchair. I'm surprised you didn't noti—well. No, you wouldn't have."
"Oh. Wow." Scott digests this. The elevator in the hall makes sense, now. "Is it because of his mutant powers?"
"No, it's because of a car."
"And he still has the school? And stuff?"
"Mm-hmm." He shifts, moving closer to Scott, and something rustles. "Now," Dr. Lehnsherr says pointedly, setting an open book on Scott's lap. "If you're quite ready to begin learning...?"
"Sure" Scott says, smiling a little. Maybe this won't be so bad.
2. Sweat
Scott hits the floor with a grunt. "Could've warned me," he mutters, rubbing his elbow and breathing hard.
"Indeed, Mr. Summers?" Erik asks, standing over him. "You think an attacker would be kind enough to warn you first?"
He taps Scott's thigh with his foot—not quite a kick—and steps back as the boy gropes for him. "That someone who wishes you harm would take your handicap into consideration?"
Scott pushes himself into a crouch, feeling for Erik, who is careful to stay just out of reach. "Oh, no, Scott," Erik says quietly, watching his face. "They will not hesitate. They will not pity the poor blind boy as he stands there, terrified, fumbling about for attackers he cannot s--"
Scott lunges with a shout, grabbing Erik's thighs, and they crash in a tangle of arms and legs. In seconds, Erik's face is against the mat, Scott's knee pressing between his shoulder blades.
"You know, I really hate you sometimes," Scott pants. His fingers shake where they grip Erik's forearm. Scott releases him and then sits back on his heels, frowning at the floor.
"I'm sure that you do. Sometimes," Erik says, his lips twitching. "Again?"
"Again." Scott nods as he climbs to his feet. "And Dr. Lehnsherr?"
"Yes?"
"This time, don't hold back."
3. Cake
Dr. Lehnsherr's hands finally stilled their movements around his face, and Scott let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He'd been flinching nonstop for about an hour. Dr. Lehnsherr patted his shoulder before stepping away and probably looking critically at Scott. "Well," he said, sounding displeased, "that's it. How does it feel, Scott?"
"It feels fine. I could get used to it." Scott reached up and touched the visor, his eyes still shut tightly. It felt big.
"Not too heavy?"
"No. Not at all."
There was a pause.
"Well, Scott," Professor Xavier said, "are you ready?"
Scott took a deep breath. He'd been waiting for this for months, but now that it came to it, he was terrified. What if it didn't work? What if this was the moment he'd find out that he was going to be blind forever? What if--
He exhaled shakily, forcing himself to try and relax.
"We're here with you, Scott. You'll be fine." The Professor's mind brushed his gently, like a reassuring touch, and Scott nodded.
"I don't want to hurt you guys."
"There's nothing but a brick wall in front of you," Dr. Lehnsherr said. "Go on."
Later, after they'd had cake for breakfast to celebrate, and after Professor Xavier had finished laughing about the fact that Scott's first reaction had been, "I didn't know you were bald!", after Dr. Lehnsherr had shown him the cars and promised to teach him to drive next year, after he'd seen the sharp smile Dr. Lehnsherr got when he was really pleased about something—the one you could hear in his voice—Scott saw his sleeve fall back when he reached for his cup of coffee.
And he realized that maybe Dr. Lehnsherr's stories about surviving weren't always about Professor Xavier, after all.
4. Digital
"Hello, Dr. Lehnsherr? It's--"
"I know who you are, Scott," Erik says, blinking at the red digital numbers on the alarm clock. "The question is, do you know what time it is?"
"Um, yeah, sorry. I didn't want the Professor to know."
Erik can't suppress a snort. "Of course you didn't. Well, to what do I owe this pleasure?" he asks, shifting the phone to a more comfortable position.
"I—um. I need to talk to you."
"You don't say." It's surprising how easily sarcasm comes at three in the morning. Equally surprising how audible a blush can be, even over the miles of phone line between Westchester and the city. Erik sighs. "What is it, then?"
"The Professor made me the field leader for the new recruitment team," Scott says quickly, as if this should explain everything. Erik frowns, confused.
"I see. I take it congratulations are in order?"
"No! You need to call and tell him he made a mistake. I'm not ready for this. I'm too young. It's a really bad idea." Scott sighs, and Erik can almost see him scrubbing a hand over his hair.
"Assuming, for a moment, that I would even consider calling Charles...what makes you think this is a bad idea? What do these 'field leader' duties entail?"
"There are mutants coming into their powers everywhere. All the time. We need to get them to the school, to contact them and help them, and so we need a team. And the team needs a leader. And--"
"Charles wants you to go where he can't go," Erik finishes, nodding.
"And fight if I have to. And help plan these trips, because he thinks I'm good at that, or something. And drive. You know he doesn't like to."
Erik is quiet a moment, thinking about this. "Why do you think he chose you, Scott?" he asks at last.
"I don't know! He says because he can trust me to make the right decision without hesitating, if I have to." Scott sighs again. "But I'm not who he thinks I am. I can't do this."
Erik sits up, hooking his legs over the edge of the bed and gripping the receiver tightly. "Have you discussed this with Charles?"
"I called you. I--" Scott breaks off, then he exhales, a small laugh. "This was stupid. I shouldn't have called."
"Scott." Erik closes his eyes. "For what it's worth, I agree with Charles. He's not making a mistake."
A long silence on the other end of the phone line, then, "Dammit," whispered so softly Erik almost doesn't hear. Is certain he wasn't meant to.
"You're a fighter." Erik smiles. "Now, go to bed, child. It's late."
"Don't call me that," Scott says, sounding irritated. "You both seem to think I'm adult enough for this kind of responsibility."
Erik smiles again, sadly. "Then you're old enough not to need reassurances from me."
end
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