Work Text:
07/01/2018
After Scott had grilled Hank with his inquiring gaze for the better part of the last four hours, all without the need for the use of his powers, it was, ironically, Artie instead who gave him the badly needed update on his wife's condition, silently as ever.
Scott hadn’t really expected anything different, still, it was another stab of disappointment and gloom when the X-Men's former pupil got up abruptly, after hardly having moved ever since entering this sick bay room, basically the second Noemi slumped in her chair too, her heavy panting finally evening out, her hand slipping from where she'd kept it firmly on Katja's forehead and temple for so long.
Artie didn’t even bother checking if the power of his mind monitor showing everything so burdening, so sickening that had gone down in this deep mental connection, was needed any longer before heading for the door, just dropping some small package on the nightstand that Scott couldn’t immediately make out from his chair on the other side of the room before he made a run for it.
At least the boy stopped for a brief moment when Scott quietly called his name, too overwhelmed for a proper address at the first moment by this still so very hostile, so very disinterested reaction. And just when Scott had hoped no less that there would be at least a way back to friendship with this young man after Artie had reluctantly agreed to help his old caretaker's mind be freed from Emma's hostile takeover. No such luck. The unambiguous image of New York, surrounded by the Field's protective glow showed up on Artie's monitor, and then the one of an abstract handshake, followed by a bold, glowing question mark, Artie's huge white pupils narrowing when he looked back over his scrawny shoulder.
"We'll do our best; I already promised you that." Scott wished he could have told the boy who'd already gone through so much in his life, who'd already lost so many homes and loved ones, that there would be a peaceful solution to Mystique's takeover of a beloved US metropolis. But they'd already decided when Ororo and Scott had called Artie for their desperate request in the morning that bullshitting each other wouldn’t help anyone at this point. "None of us wants this conflict to turn into a massacre of both mutants and normal people. No one hopes more than me that when the day comes when we all have to decide how to solve this crisis, we'll do it in your office with pen and paper, not with swords in our hands. Or I would already have called to arms."
Artie nodded slowly, visibly not entirely happy with the answer but also at least not as aggressive as at the beginning of that com conversation earlier. He shortly raised his hand for a polite greeting and then hurried to get out the door before he'd possibly risk his patient waking up and actually do something as perverted as trying to talk to him after all these years of enmity. He'd not come here to make amends in that regard. For that, it was probably just simply too early after all.
Scott didn’t get a chance to mourn these deep abysses that New York had opened not only between this house and some of its once most loyal followers for long because a stir small from the so very pale figure on the bed next to him had him startle. The last of nauseous tightness in his throat finally dissolved when his eyes found Noemi's dark ones on the other side of the bed and she nodded at him shakily, visibly still processing all she'd had had to see in this mental cleansing.
It still bothered Scott a lot that this still far too young girl had had to endure that shit at all but for the moment, she seemed sufficiently composed, even had a small smile for him to spare when he took her hand across their patient's shape for a long, firm moment. For now, just like said patient, Noemi needed rest more than anything. Talk about those gruesome images of a long gone past in Katja's head that she'd had to witness, they would when the girl would feel ready for it.
With that silent promise and assurance on his mind, Scott managed to turn off his bad conscience somehow and finally turn his attention to where it was needed most right now, gently resting his palm on Katja's frighteningly hollow cheek. "Welcome back, babe."
"Tell me I did not sleep through the Dancing with the stars finale."
Katja finding back to her peculiar humor before she'd even really opened her eyes was the last proof Scott had anxiously been waiting for that she was indeed back to her true self, just like that brilliant smile on her lips when their eyes finally met, that he'd been so terrified to never be allowed to see again.
"Don't worry, no spoilers until we catch up." Half chuckling, half with a sound that sounded suspiciously close to something else entirely, Scott carefully wrapped his arms around his wife's body, hiding that hint of too-deep, too-vulnerable emotion against her neck until it passed, just relishing for long seconds of gratefulness in the quickly strengthening, tender touch of a beloved hand on his neck in the warmth of that soft skin against his cheek, ignoring the slightly sour fragrance on it from long hours of cold sweat and a terror that after today, at least might finally be processed just a tiny bit more. It had been difficult for all of them but they'd pulled through, nothing else counted for the moment.
Hank's nagging rumble in his back reminded him that they weren’t alone in the room and that he'd only feel completely at ease if he could bring himself to entangle from his wife long enough for their team doctor to check on her, so he somehow got himself together and pulled away, no matter how much he hated to right now.
Accordingly irritated he felt when Hank didn’t sit down on the chair next to him to aim his sensors on Katja at all but reached for Scott's arm instead, starting to remove the bandage from it without even asking. Of course, it hadn’t escaped the sharp feral senses of his old friend that Scott had been going easy on his left arm ever since yesterday.
"Uh …"
"Not a word, my young Captain. Vital sign readings say, your wife is just fine, and this thing needs changing since like yesterday. You know how much I hate sloppy treatments." Hank drew his upper lip back between his fangs in disapproval when the admittedly slightly unsightly ruin of blisters, swellings, and reddened spots on Scott's wrist was revealed where his com watch had gone down in sparks yesterday. Thinking about it, he should probably have taken a minute at least after that battle to get that checked out in spite of his limitless worry for his wife.
Hank was nice enough to not give him shit for his occasionally questionable health management this time, just reached for disinfectant, clothes and healing salve with an exasperated sigh. "Remind me not to let Logan do first aid on anyone anymore."
"Hey, at least he didn’t just empty a bottle of whiskey over it this time," Scott gave back with half a grin, breathing with gritted teeth through the disgusting ripping sensation when the last bandage layer came off and Hank carefully started to go over those slightly infected spots with a small dab. "They call that progress or something."
He only realized that for once, his wife wasn’t feeling like joining in some morbid joking when he heard Katja gasp sharply, saw her round eyes go large when she saw the nature of his injury and something promptly came back to her that Scott had half and half hoped would be buried forever in that delusional nothingness that the foreign mental takeover had caused in her yesterday.
"Voltage burn? That … Fuck, Scott, was that me?"
He shrugged with his good shoulder, letting her know with a sincere smile he couldn’t be further from being pissed about something like that. When you grew up in a house with several people with mental powers, anger over something that a victim of such gifts simply wasn’t responsible for, was an entirely alien notion to you. Sometimes he just wished, such easy acceptances came to his wife too, without him having to lecture her into new self-confidence every damn time.
"We've done kinkier things than a little electro play."
Noemi promptly looked as if she'd tasted an especially sour apple. At least she started to have some color in those round cheeks back now, her thoughts hopefully stopping to linger with far less harmless pictures in her head than Scott had just accidentally put there. "Ew. Really, Uncle?"
Scott ducked his head apologetically, never letting go of Katja's hand with his uninjured one though. "Apologies, but I rather prefer to have you suffer for five seconds than me for the next five years because I married a woman who just loves to take the blame for everything, no matter how absurd."
"How about going to Emma without telling anyone?" Katja asked quietly, her depressed gaze still on the traces the powers of said psychotic bitch had left through her from afar on his skin.
Scott instinctively set his jaw for a moment, and this time not because Hank went over an especially deep blister with his cloth. That too had to be part of this conversation, much as he hated to criticize his partner right after waking up from this nightmare. But if he wanted to help her with that guilt complex of hers, part of that was also not sugarcoating it when she did fuck up every now and then.
"That, you'll get a good spanking for as soon as Hank lets you out of here."
"Okay, I'm out." Noemi got up on still slightly wobbly knees and headed for the door similarly quickly as Artie earlier, hopefully right on the way to some badly needed hug from a family member herself. For the moment, they could all use some privacy, admittedly, and all that Scott wanted to tell this so unbelievably courageous, empathic girl still could wait until neither of them would feel so physically and mentally beat anymore.
Katja however, still had something crucial on her mind, and it was another lift weighted from Scott's heart that she was already feeling well enough for that again, for sitting up and raising her voice slightly. "Kid? I owe you."
Noemi snorted and rolled her eyes in such a perfect imitation of her father's gruff manner that Scott couldn’t help but grin in spite of a response not exactly kindly towards a certain person who would never get a chance again to defend herself against such digs. Some things, no mental gift on this planet could heal. "After helping raise me for 17 years instead of the woman whose job that would have been? I don't think so."
"I'll think of something anyway," Katja promised her with a mischievous little smile, reaching for her phone on the nightstand as soon as the door had slid shut behind Noemi, probably to already look up online for said gift, whatever it was that she had in mind ...
Her hand froze mid-movement when she spotted a certain souvenir waiting on the small metal container there instead, shaking heavily when she reached for it, apparently only now understanding that it hadn’t been only Noemi's powerful gift that had shown her a way out of her mental captivity. There might be a very real frustrating chance that her other savior, she would never get to thank, for more than one reason. Maybe for now, it would have to do that Artie at least wasn’t that angry with Katja anymore, as Scott only understood when he saw that the boy had left a pack of Spider-Man-themed bandaids for his former caretaker.
Hank finished redressing his wounds just in time for Scott to get down on that bed finally and firmly pull his partner close again when the tears started to fall.