May 23rd, 2006

JM: Young tilted head closeup

X-Men: Before Night is Through (Scott/multiple) (1/?)

Title: Before night is through
: This is fan fiction, which by definition means its just an amateur work by a fan for other fans of the X-Men franchise. Absolutely not for profit and I don’t take credit for the any of the characters of X-Men. They’re all owned by Marvel and 20th century Fox etc.
Summary: My own take on what happens post X2. I got inspired by this lovely Scott/Logan manip made by xenasoul (thanks much darling!) and then the story got away from me, just… took off on its own. I am not to blame for this, much I swear. Pairings used - Scott with several others.
Warnings: Slash and Het. More Het than Slash
Rating: mild R
Author Notes: Guess I’m just venting since there will hardly be any Cyclops in X3. So this is MY X3! :P Started writing this after the spoilers for the movie came out so yeah they’re the source of inspiration for this story. But obviously this is not going to be consistent with the movieverse or comic canon either. So… AU I guess. Most of it is Scott POV. Pardon my mistakes, but do point them out to me so I can fix them.


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JM: Young tilted head closeup

X-Men: Before Night is Through (Scott/multiple) (2/?)

Title: Before night is through
Disclaimer: In Chapter 1.
Summary: My own take on what happens post X2. 
Pairings: Scott with several others.
Warnings: Slash and Het. More Het than Slash
Rating: mild R
Author Notes: See Chapter 1

<< Previous chapter

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Four days. And four nights he sat by the lake that took her away. He had been sure… so sure… of that voice inside his head. Focus Scott focus.
How could a love he devoted his entire adult life to be nothing but a flight of fantasy? A figment of his imagination?He knew in his gut something was coming, someone… was approaching from beyond what his imprisoned eyes could see. And he knew he would wait till kingdom cometh… because she told him to.
Was he losing his mind? Ho. Lets not go there.
He’d tried reason. Be reasonable, he told himself.

But what good is logic and reason that submits to the weakness of mortality but refuses to acknowledge the strength of love? If mortality is to body, is not love to the soul? And is the soul not by its very definition eternal… immortal?
How does one just… stop being one whole person and start being a whole another? As if it was never that important or worth holding on to in the first place? As if love was just a perishable commodity, a pack of dishwasher tablets you replaced as and when you ran out or felt like trying a new fucking fragrance? Why is love no longer sacred to anyone but him anymore?

Whoever invented the concept of ‘moving on’ must just… suck.
Thoughts chased thoughts in circles. There was once a time Jean would answer back, engaging him in constructive discussions from hundreds of miles away. Heck she was the only one he could ever really talk to. But now she was silent.
She’d been silent for so long he’d forgotten he could still talk.
Cyke please… let her go.

Scott shook his head with a jolt. Now he was hearing Wolverine in his head too. How could he let go? How could he, when she wouldn’t?
Scott knew the voices in his head couldn’t be unreal. He couldn’t be that crazy. Not yet.
The soul is eternal, he’d told Xavier when he tried to convince him to return home. I will wait for her here, he had said. And he sensed Xavier shake his astral head in despair, maybe even disappointment. Once, he would’ve cared about that. But that was a lifetime ago. Love is selfish that way.
The SUV stopped right next to where he’d camped on the rocky lake shore. Dark clouds brewed in the sky above, the wind was freezing as it blew his unkempt hair into his face but he didn’t care.
Suddenly he cared, tidying his hair to turn and face his… face Logan.
“You’ve made your point. Come on let's go.”
Scott scoffed, looked away.
He thought I came here to get away from him? Arrogant sonofabitch.

“She’s dead Cyke.”


“Don’t… don’t let her sacrifice go to waste.”




He stood up and faced off, glad to finally have his natural state of annoyance and anger toward the other mutant back.

“You don’t believe me that’s fine just leave me alone! This has nothing to do with you.”

Only the wind dared to breathe in the next few moments. Then Wolverine ventured gently.

“You sure about that?”
Scott didn’t reply, didn’t get a chance to.

Wind fell and with it a calm descended over and around. Time stopped and still both mutants waited, knowing somehow in their guts this was a moment they would remember (or regret) for the rest of their natural lives. The screaming in his head… it grew louder and louder till Scott clapped desperate hands over his ears and fell to his knees. Logan smelt her, stood facing the lake front, defensively covering Scott.

And then she rose.
She stepped out of the lake, shrouded in millions of tiny flames… trail of steam and boiling(?) water in her wake. Her eyes flashed but not with love or any emotion the men would usually associate with the woman they once knew. Logan saw unbearable pain… a terrible loathing… and a grotesque lust for revenge.
All Scott saw was Jean.
She was looming and majestic and terrifying as never before, but by God gorgeous as always. Dressed from toe to chin in deep wine red leather, a cape encasing her square shoulders. Her hair fell to her knees, a darker shade of red than the men remembered it. Drops of freezing water that clung to her form seemed to rapidly vaporise by sheer contact with the… the entity. Indeed the closer she came, the hotter it got.

“No Scott! Wait.”
But Scott was on his feet already. Logan tried pushing him behind himself as ‘Jean’ glided nearer… closer to the two men in her once-life. The woman smiled.
How touching.

That voice inside his head! Logan now knew what Scott had been ranting about for six weeks.
Scott my love… won't you come to me?

“Scott don’t. Something’s not…”

The younger mutant wasn’t listening. His head was filled once again, his broken heart overwhelmed. All he could see, all he could hear… all he could feel… was redemption. Relief that it was over at last. She was back. She was alive.
You’re alive!

That smile… Logan growled, his claws sliding out noisily. Scott was between him and his Jean in a flash.
“What are you doing? Are you fucking crazy?”

“Scott get back, she's not… NO!!”

The entity meanwhile ghosted and reappeared right behind Scott, suddenly wrapping an arm around his stubbled throat. Doubt and shock and Logan’s fear stricken face… and the sensation of something scorching hot strangling him… were the last thoughts Scott would remember from that day at the lake.
But you’re alive!

Then everything went crimson hot, then ashen… and finally faded to black.

He’d woken up to blurry images of vague silhouettes bent over him, studying him intently. There were not many but so many… something blue, something blonde. Focus Scott focus. He thought he saw his Jean, all that red hair… and Magneto? No, couldn’t be. Where was Professor? Ro? 

Everything was dark and light at once. He tried to speak and ended up hyperventilating instead. The silhouettes didn’t help nor move. Neither could he. His head swam and sounds reached his water-clogged ears as if from a great distance. Focus. Focus.
…only weakness…
…will come for him…
…keep sedated…
…war may never be over…
He couldn’t focus anymore. He told himself it didn’t matter, Jean was there. He could always rest easy before, knowing Jean would take care of everything. Then why was he so bothered… so… fearful?
Exhausted to his bones, Scott finally let the darkness take him. But not before also vaguely musing why his vision wasn’t so red that night.
JM: Young tilted head closeup

X-Men: Before Night is Through (Scott/multiple) (3/?)

Title: Before night is through
Disclaimer: In Chapter 1.
Summary: My own take on what happens post X2. 
Pairings: Scott with several others.
Warnings: Slash and Het. More Het than Slash
Rating: mild R
Author Notes: See Chapter 1

<< Previous Chapter (2)

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Scott sat, naked, his knees pulled up against his chest, arms wound around them tight. Stared straight ahead, through the windows in the ceiling thirty feet high. Was difficult to say if it was day or night. It was always dark inside the castle, except only for the candles… non-scented… hundreds of them flickering incessantly in every nook and corner. And the windows always closed, always stained so nature could never sneak in.
How many days and how many nights? Weeks? Months? Scott couldn’t tell anymore.
Like he was in a coma all over again, only conscious and aware… and under absolute control of a powerful telepath. Jean.


Not his Jean. His Jean would never do this to him.

The psyionic inhibitors planted by… the impostor… in his mind kept him calm, sedate, unable to resist. He felt too drained to do anything.
He couldn’t.
He couldn’t walk from A to B unless someone told him to do so. There was no will, no energy… no inclination toward anything except what he was ordered to do. That, and to stare off into space.
Yes, calm, sedated. And screaming inside.
A hand softly stirred the lukewarm water around him. His clear blue gaze dropped leisurely to study the ripples, ears automatically trained toward the new sound so born into his world. The hand drew nearer and nearer until it grazed his thigh. He wanted to jump, pull away only… what was the point?
At least this time it was a hand he was familiar with. Idly he followed it with his eyes as it slowly caressed its way up his arm. Gently cupping water and letting it dribble over his shivering skin.

He shook his head, slowly. What was the point? A washcloth appeared in another beautifully manicured hand. One held his shoulder and pushed. He didn’t protest as he was leaned back against the cold marble, his head falling back on a strategically placed cushion. As if they knew he was prone to doing that often... as if they knew him. But they didn’t.
His collar clanked softly against the floor at the back of his neck – a metallic strain of rose quartz and conflict diamonds specially designed to keep his powers reined in. He wondered what they’d done with his glasses, not like he’d ever need them in here.

Silken blonde hair flashed in the corner of his eyes as the silhouette in white gracefully rose then stepped into the hole next to him. He didn’t fight when hands came back to pull clenched fists from around his knees. Didn’t fight when legs were drawn apart and spread into the cooling water.

He couldn’t recall if he flinched when hands started to touch him there. Couldn’t remember if they ever stopped. He just stared out the stained glass on the ceiling… wondering if it was day or night. Every inch of his body stroked and fondled and washed and kissed. They had taken away his life, his powers, his mind… his soul they held captive inside this dark fortress. What good was this body anyway? Take it. Take whatever you want, just…
Though she held most of his psyche captive, something inside was still free… and keenly aware of everything that happened around him. Something inside him struggled, screamed, wept… but mostly it worried what they had done to his Jean.
He thought she was coming back to him… she’d called him to Alkali Lake and then… then what? He couldn’t believe he’d been tricked so easily… shapeshifter?


But to what purpose? What did Magneto want from him? And where the hell was Jean? They must have her if they managed to clone her so perfectly even Scott got fooled right. Right? Damn he couldn’t think. His head hurt if he tried.
He closed his eyes exhausted, as water was slowly trickled down his forehead into his hair. Soft auburn locks were smoothened back, tugged behind his ear and he sighed in resignation because at least that he was allowed. And because he knew what was to come next.

Soft lips lowered on his, a warm tongue softly and persistently licking them wet. And then there was teeth, worrying at his lower lip... tongue gently forcing his mouth open to continue the assault when…
Blue eyes shot open and met bluer ones. There… there was that warning tug at the base of his brain again. The other felt it too because immediately she pulled away and turned towards the intruder. Scott tilted his head forward enough to confirm what he already knew.

She was back. The impostor was back.

Hands on her hips, a familiar cold fury gracing her smirking face as she glared daggers into the couple.
Didn’t I tell you not to play with my toys without permission?

The blonde swallowed, hard, and slowly rose out of the hole. Scott didn’t move. What was the point?

Jean… no, the impostor… Phoenix she called herself… calmly strode up to his side and holding his chin in a death grip forced him to look at her. That face… so painful to watch… he winced his eyes shut.

Aww baby. You break my heart. Wont you say hi to your only love?

He opened his eyes and glared as best as he could.

You’re not Jean.

She stared at him for an eternity, eyes burning with a brand of lust he didn’t understand, and a form of rage he relished. Bet she was surprised at how he’d managed even this bit of impassioned outburst despite the inhibitors. Suddenly, hungrily she took his mouth into hers, finishing the job his caretaker started. He struggled for a few seconds before the inhibitors kicked in, crushing the not so tiny streak of rebellion with an excruciatingly painful jolt to his nervous system. His body went limp and she let go then, smiling just as cruelly.
And you’re not Cyclops. Not anymore.
No. Probably not. Yes he’d given up. What was the point? 
He panted. Mutely observed as the impostor disrobed and took his caretaker’s place in the hole. She dipped two fingers into the water and it heated up immediately… almost searing hot but he didn’t fight. The woman in white now dripping wet, crouched on the floor beside, pushing the bath oils and fucking conditioners closer to where the impostor could reach them. And when she caught his eye, she stared… right into his eyes… as if trying to tell him something… something important but he didn’t bother. Why should he?
What was the point?
They never came for him.
Probably didn’t need him anymore. He… he must have moved on. Just as he did after Jean. And Ro always was the ambitious one wasn’t she? Must have made field leader now. Logan was such a horny pig, he’d seen him flirting with Storm too off and on. Guess they all got what they wanted, now that Scott was out of the way.

The tears never came, inhibitors won't let them. Scott wondered if he could will his heart to stop but obviously the damn things wouldn’t allow that either.
Gradually he figured a way to count the days and the nights. It seemed he slept pretty much all the time. But assuming his caretaker woke him up to take those damn pills at least once a day gave him mornings. And assuming the visit to the hole came just before she put him to bed gave him nights. Counting the mornings and the nights, he figured the impostor tended to visit at least once a week. Initially it was more but of late she was visiting less and less. Something, someone… was occupying her mind even when she was with him.
One night he was lying on his stomach on his bed, wide awake. Staring off through the stained glass when she came. Quietly she stretched out beside him into the bed, slipping her hand under the covers to reach his bare back. The caretaker always left him nude for bedtime. Sometimes she slept in his bed, holding him to her breast but not tonight. She probably knew the impostor was due to drop by.
I know you’re awake.

He didn’t reply. The fingers long-nailed, slowly skirted a random path down his back until they rested on the curves of his ass.
He came so close today.

Who did? Scott neglected to ask the automatic question as all his meagre mind strength focused to being deathly still, not that it’d matter if he asked. The palm opened and spread wide, drew constant, thorough circles into his skin as if claiming ownership. Wouldn’t be long before he was invaded. He didn’t move, fighting the terrified urge to clench himself.
You’re mine. I will never give you up, you hear me?

Scott could sense it. How, he could not say, but he knew.
The impostor was scared.
One fine day… or was it night? Day most likely, since the pills had just about come and gone… Scott sat at the medieval sized dining table not eating his food, and staring out the stained window. The girl sat at the other end, almost ten feet away, staring at him. She bit into an apple, chewed slowly, unwittingly holding it against the side of her flawless jaw. And just staring. He'd been dressed today in an off-white Egyptian cotton shirt and drawstring pants, matched to sheer perfection with his collar. White was her favorite color.

It wasn’t an order. He didn’t care to turn or look at her. The window was far more interesting anyway. Next thing he knew the apple was flying his way, an angry projectile headed to collide and splatter right on his face. In a flash he turned, a hand raised at the right moment intercepting the offensive fruit just before it hit him in the eye.
What the?

And then it struck him. He didn’t know if he was more shocked at the fact that she threw a fruit at him, or at the realization that he still had some reflexes left, not to mention his own volition.

He’d moved. By himself.

Scott glared at the apple, happily red in his hand, a hand that did not tremble as it held the fruit in a death grip. When he looked up at the caretaker, she was softly smiling.

"You couldn’t have done that last week."
Focus Scott focus. He could focus! It was true, this week he’d definitely been more lucid, more aware of things that were happening around him, to him. He then decided to stand up. And he did! But he felt dizzy having done so in a huge rush and flopped back on his chair again.

Of course. He had been thinking clearly when he sensed the impostor’s thoughts without her deliberate intent. He was getting control of his mind and body back which would be possible only if… the inhibitors stopped working? But who could…? His rapidly coming back to life brain supplied another fact he should have observed months ago. His caretaker never spoke much either.
You’re a telepath.

She nodded. He looked around him, the guards were nowhere in sight. He supposed they could talk but he didn’t want to risk it. Besides he wasn’t confident his vocal chords would cooperate the way his legs hadn’t. Even now his head hurt.
How long?

She took her time.

Four months.

He winced. Had felt like an eternity since he'd been captured… almost relieved to know it wasn’t years or something. Almost but not quite. He looked at the beautiful face of the caretaker who’d been by his side every single moment of the past four months. Four months of weakness and helplessness…

Why did they do this to him? Why is he still alive? Why was she being so kind of a sudden? Didn’t matter, she wasn’t about to answer any whys today.
This is Magneto’s castle. Shielded from detection by…
The Cerebro!
Was that why they hadn’t come for him yet? Hope was born, and grew just that bit more when he looked at the caretaker’s softly smiling eyes again.

What… What’s your name?

Emma. Emma Frost.
JM: Young tilted head closeup

X-Men: Before Night is Through (Scott/multiple) (4/?)

Title: Before night is through
Disclaimer: In Chapter 1.
Summary: My own take on what happens post X2. 
Pairings: Scott with several others.
Warnings: Slash and Het. More Het than Slash
Rating: mild R
Author Notes: See Chapter 1

<< Previous chapter (3) 

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Scott never got an answer to why she was helping him.

But it was obvious she expected returns on his newfound vigor and mobility. Days and nights that the Phoenix did not return to the castle, Scott spent servicing every whim and fantasy of his caretaker.

Bondage is lost on a paralytic don’t you think?

So that was the answer? Bitch got horny and decided to gift herself a more active partner in her sordid sex games? 

His mouth was her favorite. His lips… soft and red and full, so like a woman’s. And gawd was he exquisitely skilled with it.
She trained you well, Emma would taunt often, and Scott quietly listened.
Means to an end. He told himself. Anything for a chance to break free from this… this gilded cage he was held in as a prized possession instead of a human, mutant, whatever.
Why am I here?

Never read the tales of a thousand and one nights? The one with an evil king… his life inside a parrot… or was it a pigeon?

Okay. Weakness. But whose? The caretaker’s laughter echoed inside his head.

You KNOW whose.
Gradually strength returned to his limbs weakened from the almost vegetative state they’d been forced into for the past four months. When in company of the guards Scott would put up the pretense of listlessness and spaced out-ness… suffer their abuse as he always had. He’d perfected emotional detachment to an art form.
Once they walked in on him playing catch with Emma… two oranges, throwing them back and forth between each other, one in each direction simultaneously. The guards stopped in their tracks and squinted. Emma winked at them.

I was bored.
According to Emma the inhibitors were weakened but she couldn’t completely pull them down. Phoenix would remain oblivious to their depleting strength so long as she continued to sense her signature on her captive’s mind. The actual challenge was in not thinking too loudly in the company of the imposter.

She will know.

I’ve had practice shielding before.

Fool. She’s the greatest telepath on this planet next only to…

She’d said too much. Scott didn’t like what he was hearing… because it quite effectively decimated his impostor theory. Maybe it was a telepath cum shapeshifter? Perfect. Denial works like a charm.

What then?

I’ll take care of it.

Two women fighting for dominance over not just his body but now his mind too… Scott didn’t find it flattering in the least.
That night as Scott lay awake in his bed, Phoenix came and stretched out beside him. But she was in no mood to use him that night… instead she just lay there. Placid, breathing. Exhausted after a long day’s war. Occasionally she’d reach out, caressing his shoulder-length hair but never lingering too long.
And then he heard her, in soft whispers, hum. Something slow and soft and soothing… something… achingly familiar.
Come on baby, let's get out of this town
I got a full tank of gas with the top rolled down
There's a chill in my bones, I don't wanna be left alone
So baby you can sleep while I drive.
Country. Jean loved country. What was her name? Melissa…
I'll pack my bag and load up my guitar
In my pocket I'll carry my harp
I got some money I saved, enough to get underway
And baby you can sleep while I drive
After she left, Scott wept. Tears that evaded him since that day… that very dark day in Alkali Lake, now flowed freely… and he let them.
Emma… please tell me.

I don’t know okay! I’m just a caretaker, nobody tells me anything.

Let me go then.

You know I can't.

If you don’t, I will kill myself.

An empty threat, but chances were Emma wouldn't know that. Her mental voice dripped with venom.

I could just as easily put you back in coma you know. Don’t you dare threaten me.

Scott’s eyes hadn’t stopped tearing since the night before. Fucking manipulative little bastard. Emma melted but not near enough.

You just have to wait until...

Until what?

She did not reply.
Phoenix was not expected that night.

Scott made love to his caretaker in the hole, sorry bath tub… voluntarily of course. They did it again in bed afterwards, before Emma drifted asleep, trusting the strengthening arms of her hostage. At midnight sharp Scott got out of bed. He’d been studying the guard’s moves for the past few days. Every night at o-hundred hours shifts were rotated. He waited until the first one left his post right outside their sleeping chambers and sneaked out. He grabbed the second at the stairs from behind, pressing that traitorous nerve at the back of his neck. Stuffed the faint body inside a medieval trunk for display after stealing his weapon. He held the third at gunpoint at the giant oak doors of the fortress.
Open it.

His voice, unused for so long… wouldn’t cooperate. He tried again, this time doing slightly better even if nothing but hoarse rasps came out.

“Open it!”

The guard tried to outmaneuveur him but Scott was prepared. His body strength may be down to a quarter but his years of training were still intact. He shot the guard in his hand, not giving a damn about the commotion so caused.

“Open the damn door now or I swear I will kill you right fucking now!”

The password-activated doors slid open, he incapacitated the guard just as he had the one before and ran.

Out through the gates of hell, out of Magneto’s deceptive force field. Ran as far as his legs would carry him knowing it wouldn’t be enough. All the while screaming within his head.

Professor! Professor Xavier!

Memories rushing through his mind and eyes of a time long past… of a hesitant new relationship, of father and adopted son.

I will always hear you Scott no matter where you are. Always, my son.
Professor! Fa-father please… find me. I’m here. I’m still here!

His voice got weaker, as did his legs but he kept running. His head felt heavy and before long his mind were wrenched back out of his control. By the time Emma and the first guard reached him Scott lay paralysed, his upper half flat on the ground and lower half twisted to one side. Judging from the castle’s architecture and the snow-laden landscape he’d surmised he was somewhere in Europe and that bit of information too he flung out to the universe as loudly as he was capable of. The inhibitors kicked in then completely. Stronger than ever before. The guard then ordered him to stand up and soon as Scott did, he punched him in the gut.
Emma never forgave him.
Scott resigned himself to his quasi-comatose fate while Emma, to vent her rage, went back to exploiting his helpless state every which way she could. Before long, molten wax from the candles that lit up the gothic insides of the fortress started to show up on myriad parts of his body… nothing stronger than wax though, after all she couldn’t leave any bruises or bite marks for the Phoenix to find.

But Scott never let her have the satisfaction to hear him plead. Emma couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him or slap him from one moment to the next. So she did both.
Two days and two nights, at least that’s the closest estimate his addled up brain could come up with.

And then they came. 

Next Chapter >>
JM: Young tilted head closeup

X-Men: Before Night is Through (Scott/multiple) (6/?)

Title: Before night is through
Disclaimer: In Chapter 1.
Summary: My own take on what happens post X2. 
Pairings: Scott with several others.
Warnings: Slash and Het. More Het than Slash
Rating: mild R
Author Notes: See Chapter 1

<< Previous chapter (5)

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Emma Frost was not having a very good day.

First she loses her hostage, which effectively ruins her comfortable post in France where all she had to do was babysit the Dark Phoenix’s flame, and who she got to fuck as well. Now she was here in the middle of a fucking battleground with the damn Sentinels loose everywhere crushing people indiscriminately. After all, who was to say they wouldn’t assume she was the enemy too… they hadn’t been formally introduced now had they?
And now she knew. Damn it Phoenix knew everything and she was so fucking angry. If she wasn’t kinda busy and if it weren’t for Magneto, Emma would have been dead by now.

“Sebastian. Sebastian!!”


Sebastian Shaw was another mutant allied with the Brotherhood and was busy controlling an activated Sentinel with a remote control.

“Where is your truck?”

“For God’s sake Emma, for once in your life prove your commitment to something! Anything!”

“Fine. Give me your car keys I commit to take very good care of it. Far away from here!”

Sebastian just rolled his eyes as she telepathically ported the keys to his Hummer off him and got out of firing range as fast as possible. She was going to make it… just a hundred meters more… fifty… twenty… five…

“Leaving so soon?”

Emma froze, turning to face the one person she knew her telepathic powers would have no effect on.
Professor Xavier slowly rolled in closer, Rogue right behind him. The unmasked fury on his face evidence enough that he knew everything about her role in this entire saga.

“Listen… Professor. I just, did what I was asked to… no hard feelings eh?”

Xavier was not a particularly vindictive man, but he could pretend to be.

“I see you’re keenly aware of who I am Miss Frost so let's just cut through the chase, shall we?”

Emma swallowed as Xavier politely smiled at her, as if about to invite her to tea.

“So how does this telepathic activation of Sentinels work?”
Logan was exhausted. Yeah people always assumed that wasn’t possible for him. Well maybe it wasn’t, physically. But inside his head, he was just plain… tired.
Five months. Five fucking months.

And to what end? Let them take the fucking UN, what good did they do for anyone anyway? Let the Sentinels tear the place apart piece by piece, wreck the international convention on the stupid cure for mutation. It's not like he was pro that particular agenda in any case. And no he wasn’t part of the X-Men anymore either, was he. Not technically, no.

Then what the fuck was he doing here?
You’re here for her.

He reminded himself. She was the reason, she was the chase all this time. And now that she was almost within his grasp… Sabretooth stood in the way.

Yeah, him again.

Logan wondered why the bad guys never stayed dead while all the good ones just kept dying… leaving him behind. Old, bruised, battered… and so very tired.
The X-Men were already at the scene. Rogue and Bobby and Colossus and Storm, a couple of other kids he wasn’t sure were old enough for this, and two older and obviously adept mutant warriors he’d never met before. Trusting them to hold fort a little while longer, he let his present adversary goad him on. Sabretooth was clearly in the mood to play, never was one for clean executions. Logan suffered the abuse, the pain… perhaps even welcomed it.
You deserve it.

Got his own every now and then of course. But if only Logan weren’t so exhausted…
That voice… weak and raspy… but he’d recognize it anywhere. Face down in the mud, his sides torn to shreds as Sabretooth lunged at him again, Logan rolled out of reach and turned toward the source of that desperate, furious call. For a whole two seconds, he just sat there. Stunned.

The color blue had never seemed so beautiful to him ever before in his entire life. Didn’t matter he couldn’t remember most of it. There was no way… no fucking way could he’ve seen such beautiful… crystal blue eyes before.
“Quit jerkin’ around and finish that piece of shit already!”
Sabretooth didn’t last too long after that. And this time he made sure the bad guy stayed dead. Logan was in no hurry to get to her anymore either, now that Scott was back.

was taken.
It was a blood-curdling scream. Like the last scream of a primitive being burning itself to a horribly painful death. But the Dark Phoenix was not about to give in so easy. So what if all her power had just been wrenched out of her control in one mind-numbing telepathic attack. She knew exactly who she needed to annihilate to get it all back.
Charles Xavier.
The Sentinels were falling to the ground all around her, months of preparation, time and energy, and blood and tears wasted. She’d waited far too long for this day, taken far too many lives to reach this point. She couldn’t turn back now. Someone was about to suffer… a lot. And no one could stand in her way. Not the persistent weather witch, not the winged man who looked disturbingly familiar. not the beast with the sad yellow eyes reluctant to draw first blood. No one.
Except him.

Something inside her stirred, but she suppressed it quick. When she turned, her eyes glowed and her lips smirked.

Love makes you incredibly stupid doesn’t it?

He said nothing. His mind closely guarded, though undercurrents of pain and yes… love… she could still sense from her former captive. The former captive who still wore her mark of possession - her collar. She raised an open palm and pulled him closer to herself, half suspended in the air like a weightless ragdoll. And she smiled.

You just handed me the perfect bargaining chip sweetheart. Your life…

She turned to glare at the Professor sprawled on the ground beside his broken wheelchair.

… for his.
“No!! Let him go!”

Scott did not turn to look, but he recognized Wolverine’s panic-stricken voice as he charged towards Phoenix. She casually flicked her other hand and Logan was flung forty feet away. Scott pretended to be just as casual.

“You could never kill me.”

Eyebrows went up.

“You love me too much. Just like I love you Jean. I always have and I always will.”

Glowing eyes softened… if only for a moment, then it was gone.

“Liar. You betrayed me. For him!”

It was obvious who she was referring to. And then Scott was thrown to the ground with a massive force that shattered a couple of his ribs.
“If you hate me so much, why didn’t you kill me before? Why keep me alive?”

She laughed. The menace creeping down his spine and he shivered. “Why of course, to punish… him.”
She was looking at the Professor.
Xavier winced his eyes shut… his worst fears confirmed. Scott gasped with pain and confusion as he pulled himself up.
“Wha… what are you talking about?”

“My poor mortal boy. To hurt you… is to hurt your loving meddling goddamn father. So you’d both know what its like to be rendered weak and helpless, and trapped inside your own fucking head… like he trapped me inside mine!!”

“… no… Jean…”

“Stop calling me that! I am not the woman you thought you knew! I am Phoenix. I am immortal… I am indestructible! Ask this man who just loves to play God and you can't help but worship! Ask your father what he did to me.”

Scott looked at Xavier, who shook his head, perhaps in remorse.


“I have always been here… I am the part of Jean Grey this man imprisoned in his cage of psyionic walls… inside her own warped mind. He turned me into the automated fucking Stepford wife that your Jean Grey was! The good girl… the scared little girl who couldn’t believe in her own cosmic strengths! Tied down by your filthy human bonds of morality that mean nothing to me! Nothing!!”

Scott shook his head, over and over.

“But… Jean…”

“Jean is DEAD! She died for you and how did you repay her? You promptly jumped into bed with someone else!!”
No… no it was not like that… but he couldn’t utter a word. A breathless sob escaped him… and the telepath suddenly stopped glowing in her all-consuming fury. Calmness descended like it had the day of his abduction at Alkali Lake. The battleground was quiet. The X-Men stood tall and watched as the Brotherhood fled. Only Magneto and Mystique remained, like everyone else immobile, stunned in the face of the new revelations.
“If she was here… she’d be very happy for you, you know…”

The admission quiet, and austere. Then invisible bonds gripped Scott by his sides and lifted him into the air again… right in her face.

“But she’s NOT.”

Moments of silence, one, maybe two. The smirk returned.

This time on Scott’s face.

“See… that’s where you’re wrong.”
Phoenix frowned.
“She’s right here… she’s the reason I’m still alive…”

The Phoenix glowed anew. Unseen hands started to constrict his throat. Scott gasped.

“She’s the reason you kept me by your side... safe… away from this pointless war. She’s why you kept coming back, you held me in your arms… you sang to me when I couldn’t sleep. I know you’re here Jean. I know you’re alive!”
The strangling lessened. It was as if a shadow lifted from the face of the Phoenix.


Scott could have wept. He’d recognize the moisture in that voice any day. The telepath gently returned him to solid ground.

“Jean, come back to us…”

Sobs hitched in her throat, as he watched her struggling inside.

“…I can't hold on any longer… she’s too strong…”

His eyes watered and he shook his head pleading.

“No… you have to. You have to, please Jean!”

“I am sorry…”

Scott knew what was about to happen.

“No! No please No!!!”

There has to be another way! Please, not again!!

He winced his eyes shut tight and whirled around just as he heard the clicking of the collar round his neck.

Please… not like this!… not like this…

The jeweled circle fell to the ground with a soft clang, and against his will Cyclops was clasped and turned… his lethal eyes pried open…
JM: Young tilted head closeup

X-Men: Before Night is Through (Scott/multiple) (7/7)

Title: Before night is through
Disclaimer: In Chapter 1.
Summary: My own take on what happens post X2. 
Pairings: Scott with several others.
Warnings: Slash and Het. More Het than Slash
Rating: mild R
Author Notes: See Chapter 1

<< Previous Chapter (6)

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Warren returned to the team alongwith Henry soon after. And with Storm as interim field leader, the rest of the X-Men seemed to be recovering well.
Magneto hadn’t surfaced ever since, and Emma seemed to have disappeared off the face of the planet as well.

She seems to have perfected the art of deceptive shielding all by herself.

And didn’t he know it. But it's not like he cared too much.
Scott refused to talk to the Professor about the four months that he was gone. He knew Xavier wouldn’t push but Logan’s complete lack of tact continued to amaze him to the point where he pretty much spilled it all to his former arch nemesis.
“Want me to skewer that skank for ya kid?”

Scott rolled his eyes.

Just don’t mention bathtubs to me ever again.
Scott fell back into his old habit of fending off sleep for as long as possible. So that at the end of the week when he did crash it would be like a dead man in his grave. The definition of ‘zombie’ was elevated to brand new heights during this time. And only the larger bulk and height of Logan succeeded in cajoling him into basic tasks like brushing his teeth or putting on clean clothes. He wasn’t interested in anything anymore… it was as if he was waiting an eternal wait… for the voices in his head to start talking again. But they never did.

Jean Grey had truly left a void in his soul this time.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.

And it occurred to him Logan had left his side not once ever since. He was the one who carried Scott’s unconscious form to the Blackbird after the Phoenix destroyed herself. Nothing but ashes remained though not for long. A perfectly timed gust of wind had carried them far, far away.

I am immortal, I am indestructible.

Scott tried not to think about her anymore. He tried, really tried to get on with his life.

If she was here… she’d be very happy for you.

Even as it turned out to be the toughest thing he’d ever done. But somehow made easier, by the immensely irritating yet oddly comforting presence of Logan, always by his side.
Just leave me alone.

“I can't hear you.”

Yes you can.

“Chuck you gotta take away his telepathic privileges, the boy simply never uses his voice box anymore.”

He can't hear you.

“Yes he can. Now shut up and eat or I will sit on your chest and force-feed you. And don’t think I wouldn’t.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Oh for Gods sake…”

Okay! Okay…

Scott ate. Not because he was scared of the big louse, but because of late this new… gentle, caring side to the fearsome Wolverine had become way too amusing to ignore.
Charles worried how alarmingly fast his grieving son seemed to be losing weight… as well as his will to resume a normal life. He pleaded with him to sleep, promising him there would be no dreams or nightmares to worry about. But Scott had had enough mind control to last him three lifetimes.
Stay out of my head, Professor.

I’m only trying to help you my son.

Like you helped Jean? He didn’t say it nor project it… jeez he probably didn’t even mean it. But he was sure Charles heard it all the same.

And then came the nightmares Charles was not allowed to safeguard him from. 
Scott woke up screaming, only to find himself wrapped in the arms of his stalker once again.

“Shhh… it's okay… just a bad dream.”


Large warm hands held him steady as he trembled, fixing his shirt gone awry down his torso. Fighting the sleep-inducing rhythm of the back rub, Scott squinted his eyes open through his night glasses and confirmed it was his room this time. The new one he’d requested soon after returning to the mansion.
God he really can't stop meddling can he?

Scott supposed Charles had posted Logan in his room since Charles was himself kicked out of his head. Logan didn’t bother to tell he’d been watching over Scott every single time he’d surrendered to Morpheus, which hadn’t been so often in any case.

“Don’t be a dick. Chuck’s wanted nothing but to protect you and all his students. Jean too… even when it was from herself.

Scott knew he was right, but didn’t intend to give in so easy. He shrugged Logan off and glared through his glasses.

Get out of my room.

If Logan was hurt he didn’t let it show. Instead he cautiously raised a hand and cupped the younger man’s face, thumb gently stroking a quivering lower lip.

Ask me. Out loud. And nicely.”

Scott wanted to pull away from the large furry hand…really he did… but he didn’t.

Get out. Please.

Eyebrows were raised menacingly. Scott glared back as long as he could, then looked away.

I can't.

“Why not…”

The answer took its time.

I’m afraid if I opened my mouth… I’ll never stop bawling.



Trust me. I know a very good way to shut you up.
Liar. It didn't happen immediately. But eventually the day came when Scott broke down at last, and the bastard didn't do anything to shut him up for a long, long time. Only when Logan probably couldn't take it anymore himself that he closed his mouth over Scott's... swallowing the last of his tears away.


Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned to months. 

Man that sounds so clichéd. 

Ever since he was a kid, Scott had been a math freak… to him numbers were always logical, numbers you could always trust to make perfect and irrefutable sense. He wondered when or if he’d ever stop counting the days and nights since… since Jean died.

Again. But it didn’t matter anymore.
Two days later, Scott stepped out of his room for the first time in three months. 

Six days later he and Xavier spent hours talking, and not via brainwaves. 

Nine days later he started working out again. 

On the twenty sixth day, he opened up his old room… gathered all of Jean’s favourite country albums, and brought them over with him to Logan’s bedroom.



A/N: So let me know what you think? :)</div></div>