round 3 overflow post

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Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

Opposition - Scott - Part 3a/3

[(Anonymous)]

“Scott you can’t stay here.” There was a pause and Storm sighed. “Jean will see that you’re informed immediately if there’s any change but you need to move. Have you even slept?”

The answer was, of course, no, but Scott suspected that if he informed Storm of that she would stop trying to convince to go and get some rest and forcibly remove him from the location he’d set himself up in outside of the room where Jean was treating Alex.

“Scott. Jean has already said he’s going to be fine. Everybody else needs you now, you’re our team leader and you can’t fulfil that role from down here.

“What sort of leader am I?” Scott demanded, “If I can’t even keep from attacking my own,” brother, “Teammate?”

He had always been quietly sure that, profession or not, he would see to it that anyone who harmed his brother would receive equal, if not greater, harm in turn; but now that it was him who had done the damage.

“We’re investigation the blood sample taken from you, there are clear chemical traces which sugg-”

“He’s awake.”

Scott’s head immediately snapped up, his gaze focused on Jean, who was shutting the door of the medical bay behind her.

“How is he?”

Jean shrugged. “As good as can be expected. Reasonably alert and seemingly aware of his surroundings, eager to get up and move around, which I have no doubt that he’ll be trying to do now that I’m not there to scold him. He asked to see you.”

Scott shook his head. “If he’s fine then I have…”

“No chance,” Storm cut in, “You’ve been sitting here waiting for him to wake up and now he has done your going to bail and do all of the work you’ve been neglecting while you were down here? Get in there and talk to him.”

“The team…”

“This avoidance has nothing to do with the team and everything to do with you feeling bad about what happened. Scott,” Jean’s tone was firm and unyielding. “He asked to see you.”

“We’ll finish this talk later,” Storm added, turning and walking away.

Jean led the way into the med-bay and Scott inhaled sharply. The bruising on Alex’s face was dark, with hints of swelling, and agony was written right across his features as he sat propped up on one elbow.

“What part of ‘stay put’ don’t you understand?” Jean said, with a tone of easy exasperation which Scott recognised from occasions where it had been him needing medical treatment. “You need to rest and not aggravate your injuries,” she instructed, carefully adjusting Alex’s limbs until he was laid flat against the pillows, “I’ll sedate you if I need to,” she warned, glancing pointedly over at Scott as she added, “Now I need to go and talk to the professor, and when I get back you are going to be exactly where I left you, yes?”

Scott nodded minutely as she walked past him on her way out, picking up on the fact that she was not-so-subtly charging him with ensuring Alex stayed resting while she was gone.

“Jean told me you managed to shut the reactor down okay; so does that mean the plant’s out of commission now?” Alex asked, sounding sincerely interested in the outcome of the mission. Scott, nodding confirmation, knew better. For Alex to be talking about the outcome of the mission rather than his own injuries or what went wrong was more than slightly out of character.

They stood in tense silence for several minutes while Scott searched mentally for a way of continuing this conversation but his tactical mind was failing him. It was one thing to know that he’d hurt his little brother while under the influence of mild-controlling drugs, but seeing him slumped on the sheets of a medical bay bed, hooked up to dozens of machines and looking at Scott with hesitant fear and confusion written clearly across his face was a special kind of torture.