Work Text:
07/29/2018
"Nice try."
Yawning, with the back of her hand against her lips, Katja shuffled outside to join Scott. The bed cover – much to his disappointment –, she held wrapped tightly around her body although their only company on their terrace in sight was endless, calm floods a few feet below and deserted fisher boats in the far distance.
"You know, other guys wake their girl up with flowers and breakfast." Demonstratively, Katja slipped the diving fins Scott had left in front of her bed, after getting them from the island resort reception right at dawn, into the designated wooden bracket of the wall separating their little paradise domicile from the rows of the other houses. Dropping on the sun recliner between them, she watched, sadly with a bit of good-natured mockery instead of any interest to join, as he closed the last zipper of his neoprene suit and adjusted the straps of his quartz-coated diving goggles.
"You hate flowers in the bedroom," Scott reminded her slightly absently, busy with the stubborn hard rubber that refused to be shortened to the necessary length to stay reliably on, even within the strong currents of a stiff August breeze. His movements felt unnervingly sluggish, clumsy almost, though he usually didn’t have a problem to at least physically be fully capable right after waking up. Then again, the first night after a horror flight with two delays had been restless, haunted by the memory of some literature lesson with Charles decades ago for some reason, the scraps of the homework discussed in question still lingering at the back of Scott's mind, tugging his thoughts away from the conversation every few seconds though he wasn’t even particularly a fan of classics.
"And no offense but I'm not trying to burn another ham and eggs to crisp when we'll have a whole buffet laid out for us in that restaurant over there in an hour. Which is more than enough time for a first quick tour."
"Right."
Maybe in an attempt to distract him from his early morning sports ambitions, Katja crossed her legs in a way that had that cover slip deliciously up her bare thigh which did try to stir up the temptation of scooting the few inches over to that chair and get his lips on that newly exposed patch of skin for a moment, admittedly. A blinding bright ray of morning sun was even smoothing out the traces of certain old scars to Scott's shameless stare, demanding to
wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight
start the morning in a slightly less exhausting and all the more satisfying way …
The sober memory that such displays of affection just like nudity anywhere but in private closed dorms were punishable in this country, the conservative politics of which had always been the main reason why Scott hadn’t been hot on a holiday here, served as a good excuse to slip his own fins on instead, after another inviting nod to Katja's pair and toward the underwater suit waiting for her inside.
An amused headshake followed to his disappointment. "You still got a lot to learn about women, Scott Summers. An hour is barely enough for shower and make-up before heading out. You realize this is a high-profile destination, right? Can't show up there with bed hair and jeans as if we were at the school."
their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay
That was a slightly ridiculous attempt of justifying ordinary off-work laziness though – Katja rarely even bothered to doll up when they were scheduled for another mutant-human relation crisis meeting in the White House.
Then again, not like Scott was about to complain if she wanted to offer him something to look at ... Not to mention they had the whole week left still for adventures together.
Scott gave it a shrug and turned away to do a last quick check on his wrist camera, more impatient by the second to finally slip down those stairs and get a first look at that famous underwater world right outside their hut on his part. "I won't be long. Just curious about the reef. I'll mark down a few spots where there's most of the wildlife to see, then we can start right after eating."
"You sure that's worth it? Reefs in the Maldives have been dead for years. Then again, not like it will be much of a difference for you that the colors are gone, I guess."
Well, apparently the night had been bad for both of them, seeing as Katja seemed to be insisting on ruining his enthusiasm for some reason.
grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
As he was shaking off a grimace about his wife's sour mood in this area of all places that she'd begged him to come with her to for so long, Scott's overly tired mind once more turned to those lamenting lines of some poetry he hadn’t even thought about in years. Christ, he'd always known why he'd hated Dylan Thomas. Scott pressed both his lips and eyes tight and finally pulled off his glasses to trade them against the diving mask, deciding to cool his own now quiet dampened mood in the water and let Katja properly wake up herself before attempting any further conversation.
The last few months had been hard on all of them, he better not forgot that. He'd brought her here to get away from all that drama and worry and pressure for a few days before they'd finally have to make a decision about how to proceed with what they'd found out about the Brotherhood's latest deeds
and learn, too late, they grieved it on its way
and if he didn't give her – and himself – at least half a day to achieve exactly that, there wouldn’t be much relaxation and recreation for either of them, not even in the allegedly most beautiful space in the world.
"As I said, just a swim around the block. Need to clear my head for a bit."
"I figured. You've been having bad dreams. Still thinking about New York?" Belatedly, Katja seemed to notice she hadn’t exactly been Mrs. Sensitive a second ago and slipped down behind him, that damn cover still held like a shield around her sinewy body, to rest one hand on his arm, just for a moment, before she started to nestle on the straps of his goggles in an attempt to straighten their position on his temples.
"Always."
Yeah, Scott had definitely not been the only one with a shitty night if he actually had to remind his partner, with a cautious grab of her hand, a quick apologetic caress over it, how uncomfortable he was with people touching his shields.
blind eyes could blaze like meteors
Looking for the right words without sounding increasingly rude himself was becoming a challenge, especially since he still couldn’t tear his head away from that memory of the minutes right before waking up, these stubborn lyrics dancing in his unconsciousness like a song heard too often, a lecture given to far too many pupils too many times. Maybe he was simply overworked. Screw the maybe in that consideration.
"And right now, I'd rather not. Flight and hotel were far too expensive for that, honestly. We're here to unplug for a few days, babe."
"Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe this was a bad time, Scott."
When she saw him lower his head in growing frustration, Katja quickly scooted behind him to wrap her arms around him, rest her lips on his neck where there seemed to be a hint of sunburn spreading already in spite of lotion and protective clothing, judging by the brief sting.
because their words had forked no lightning
"Don't get me wrong. I'm really happy we finally got to do this. This place is a dream. I just can't stop worrying about the school. Not sure it was such a good idea, leaving right after Egypt went so wrong."
Under different circumstances, the roles in this conversation would have been wildly reversed, with Scott probably already busy redressing and calling a ride, happy that his partner had become reasonable about a timeout they'd only taken so reluctantly anyway and that he didn’t have to be the asshole for once … Only he would have been if he'd let himself so easily be deterred now by an anxiety that had been haunting them for far longer than a week and that wouldn’t be going anywhere as long as they had no idea about how to proceed with what they'd recently discovered about the Brotherhood. And as long as they didn’t get some distance to it, nothing would change about that.
"Yana will 'port us back to the mansion anytime if there's trouble, babe. Until then, I'd rather be counting sightings we don't get in Westchester than problems." With a smile that at least didn’t need to be entirely forced, Scott turned his head to capture Katja's lips in a brief kiss and then reached for the chart with the fish to be found in this reef that he'd grabbed at the souvenir shop on his equipment walk earlier. Two of the species depicted, he'd already been able to cross off, having spotted them through the glass table inside their bungalow while putting on the wetsuit. "I'll bring back on camera whatever I encounter out there and then you can help me identify them at breakfast, that a deal? If we make good use of the time, we'll be through the whole list by Sunday."
"You do know you need help for your obsessions, right?" Katja let out a resigned sigh, this time apparently oblivious to the renewed crease between Scott's brows about a repeated kind of dig he wasn’t used to from the woman by his side, not even in jest, not about weaknesses of his that he'd had to hold on to ever since mutating to protect the world from his destructive gift.
good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
When Katja straightened up before he could come up with a slightly huffed retort this time, after a somewhat condescending pat of his shoulder, that cover around her chest slipped again, and this time, Scott wasn’t so sure suddenly that was a trick of the lightning, his eyes missing another pattern of scars from her torture ordeal all these years back on the top of her cleavage ...
Yeah, tonight, they really both needed to try and get some better sleep.
With a weary headshake, Scott looked down at the laminated info sheet in his gloved hand again, turning it to study the images on the backside too before he'd finally go under … He almost dropped the chart down the slippery stairs leading into the water when he spotted a short wall of text in place of said pictures, and not just a description of the Maldives wildlife that he'd missed in his half-awake state earlier. It was the same exact damn words he'd not been able to purge from his mind in the last ten minutes.
rage, rage against the
Before he could make any sense of what the fuck was happening here, the world around him went black.
"Had a good nap there, Johnny Castle?"
"What …?" Scott startled up, disorientated, with a quiet curse when the same unpleasant burn at the back of his neck that he remembered from a few seconds ago emerged, apparently in truth coming from having fallen asleep on a sofa much too short for his exaggerated height. A piece of furniture in some stuffy artist's cloakroom he couldn’t remember how the fuck he'd ended up there or where it even was …
Except he knew, of course he knew because he'd visited Alison in here before the talent show in a besieged city he'd let himself be persuaded to visit as a peace offering, for some dumb reason … Only he was pretty sure he'd gone there alone for that reason exactly, to not endanger anyone else on the team, not for the weak hope of badly needed negotiations with their enemies …
For some reason, the woman he'd married had apparently thought this was a great day for reviving her actually long-overcome insubordination issues. "What the hell are you doing here, Cat?"
"Just how deep of a coma you've just been in? You really need to do something about your sleep rhythm."
A bright chuckle on her lips, Katja turned away from the huge illuminated vanity on the wall and threw him something he hardly managed to catch in his ongoing disorientation, almost knee-long, silk, a shade he knew from the database to be a bright silver and definitely not something he'd put on in everyday life at school – one of his dancing jackets, matching the fluffy lace on his wife's gorgeous body.
"Come on, get finished, we're up in five. Hey, remember you dragged me here to an audience who already hates us before we did one single jive step. No chickening out on me now. Mutant High represent and all, right?"
"Gotta give me a second here, babe." Scott rubbed his eyes under his glasses and rolled his aching shoulders, his mind still sleep-addled which was alarming enough by itself – a hostile city wasn’t exactly where you just passed out for half an hour, no matter how diplomatic the visit. A visit he still wasn’t quite sure when the plans regarding its participants had changed so rapidly but the last few nights had been short and restless, with a number of highly disturbing dreams …
do not go gentle into that good night
About time to get his shit together and focus on what they were here for, and that had little to do with showing off Latin on a stage that was as pretentious and cynical as every other single fucking thing in a city that had never belonged to mutant world alone and had suffered under Mystique's forced rule for far too long already. But if the X-Men were finally to do something about that, they needed to be smart about this chance to get a good look at things around here. And for an urgently necessary briefing for such spying activities, Scott preferred his whole team around.
"Where's Alison?"
"Probably sucking off the jury? Gotta work for that American Mutant Idol title and all."
Katja rolled her eyes when Scott scowled at the crude tastelessness of what could hardly even be called a joke, wondering if his wife was spending too much time with her adolescent patients at school lately. She turned to her reflection again with kajal in her hand, effectively escaping from Scott's far too close scrutiny of all that skin her costume was revealing as well which was all but glowing in the bright cloakroom light from tons of make-up she must have used to cover her scars. Her increasingly unnerved tone significantly lessened Scott's usual love for hearing his partner's soft, warm voice, the harsh syllables blurring in his perception with those lyrics from his last dream still haunting him.
old age should burn and rave at close of day
"Soundcheck and coffee. Which frankly, the latter you could use of a can or two of yourself. You wanted this, Scott. You wanted to come here so we finally got clarity on Mystique's plans. Look a little more alive, will you?"
rage against the
Something was off.
Scott thought he probably should have realized far sooner but if he was where he suddenly had to fear he was, if what was building like a throbbing hot ball of acid in his guts was anywhere close to the truth, then he thought he could forgive himself that temporary slight for once. And then he was well-advised to stop dwelling on that very thought right now.
"You dozing again?" Katja sought his gaze in the mirror with narrowing eyes and waved at the jacket in his hands. "Are you even listening? You still didn’t tell me what to look out for exactly on stage. I hate going in blind, boss, so spill the details already of how we are going to kick the Brotherhood in the ass this time. But be quick about it. We need another rehearsal of the lifts before the lights go on."
rage
Right. Time was short or something but maybe not for the reason Scott was being told here. With numb hands, suddenly being pretty sure what he'd find, Scott reached for a show schedule on the sofa table before him, not the least surprised that what was written on it had nothing to do with a timetable. In Charles' neat, round handwriting that Scott hadn’t seen anywhere in reality in years, there were those same lamenting words written down he'd had to study for some assignment as a teenager. Words that many years later, he'd chosen as a very particular mantra to be tethered in his unconsciousness, in a training lesson with a woman who'd still been on the X-Men's side at that time.
do not go gentle into that good night
I'm not sure what's the idea here. Charles has taught us how to use mental shields ever since we were teenagers, Frost.
Shields are for level 1 mind readers. You can't win against a powerful telepath unless you're one yourself, Summers. It's why Charles always rather preferred me in your people's corner than trying to contain me. If the Brotherhood ever gets their hand on a psychic, we're all fucked royally. And with mutant population growing by the year, we all better prepare for that unhappy eventuality.
How? If there's no winning against it …
You can't shake a mental grip on your own with no mental gift but you can learn how to keep a psychic hostile out of where you don't want them snooping around, if you're lucid enough through their probing. That's why I'm installing a safeguard in all your heads if you allow. It's like an itch under your skin that you can't reach. Mental RLS, basically. Something that will keep on popping up in your head when you're not alone in there. If something feels weird, start looking for the writings on the wall. It won’t help you shake them off, but it will help you knowing they're there until someone on your side comes to pull you out.
After what she'd last done, Scott had thought that pretty much impossible but for a second or two, he found, he actually missed Emma.
Nothing he had even a second to ponder right now.
"Good morning to you too. About time."
Katja smiled at him in that far too wide, exuberant way again that didn’t want to match a trip to a place where most people were waiting for a chance to kill you, when Scott dropped the schedule with a feigned rueful nod as if he'd finally remembered they needed to get off their asses, then stepped behind her chair without much ado, pulling her up by her shoulder to lead her into the first few steps of one of their jive programs.
A currently quite reluctant physical closeness needed both as an attempt to hide what was building in his finally wake perception louder and with shriller warning signals by the second … And to go sure, absolutely sure.
Not that he really needed to, not anymore, and certainly no longer, once the lame excuse of a promenade to the imaginary song in the background almost ended with the woman in his arms dramatically falling to his feet.
Before she could straighten up again, the feigned embarrassed giggle on her lips froze, her eyes going wide, her body slumping as she looked down on it where a huge hole from Scott's powers had ripped through her midsection.
"You really need to work on your posture, Darkholme," Scott said coldly, stepping away before the bleeding body on the ground had even started turning into her true red and blue scaled shape. "Terribly sloppy footwork, too."
Just like that whole piece of work that his enemy had just presented to him to fool him, in fact, pretending to be someone she didn’t know half as well as she apparently thought. But what could you expect from someone who was all appearances?
In another life, if there'd been anything but hate between them, Scott might actually have told her, he thought with a snort, never taking his fingertips off his glasses, ready to go again anytime in case his enemy would recover faster than expected, using her powerful cell manipulation gift.
It turned out, Mystique didn’t even need to – of course she didn’t, not in a scenario like this, using a physical shape that didn’t even exist in the first place.
Scott felt the brutal sting of another shot of whatever they were using to keep him under on his neck, even in this world of hallucinations that his mind was being trapped in, no doubt courtesy of the power replicator on Mystique's team, before his thoughts started to drown in nothingness once more.
Apparently they'd gotten bored of trying to get to what they wanted to know from him with head games.
Scott seriously doubted whatever attempt he would wake up to next would be any more pleasant.