The X-Project

One of the search teams had to get lucky at some point. Kurt and Jamie, in the middle of nowhere in Wyoming, are the fortunate pair.


The silo was, officially, abandoned. However, it seemed fairly clear from the number of vehicles and guards present that it hadn't been really abandoned in some time, which was suspicious enough to warrant notifying Professor Xavier. For the moment, though, Kurt and Jamie were watching from cover, trying to get an idea of how well-guarded the place was.

"This is abandoned? I'd hate to see what an occupied one looks like," Jamie muttered, panning his binoculars across the array of military vehicles and armed guards. "What I wouldn't give for some X-ray vision to see inside. There's at least what, half-a-dozen people on the door there? The whole place says 'go away.'" He shot Kurt a thoughtful look and handed the binoculars over. "Don't suppose we'll get really, really lucky and you recognize one of them?"

"I do not remember my time with them very clearly," Kurt said quietly, accepting the binoculars to study their faces anyway. "But I suppose it is possible."

"Was just a thought." Jamie sighed, folding his arms to stop his hands from fidgeting. "This whole sitting here waiting for the Professor to check the place out from the big round room thing is driving me nuts. I wanna do something. I want to get him back."

"And we will," Kurt tried to reassure him, still staring through the binoculars. "We should have confirmation if this is the place, very soon."

"People kidnapping our people really needs to stop, is what," Jamie grumbled. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and squinted at the silo again, even though mostly all he could see without the binoculars was the sun glinting off the Humvees' windshields.

The Professor's presence was in their minds again all at once, heavy with fatigue that even the two non-telepaths could sense, but his mental voice was sharp with relief as he spoke. #Kurt, Jamie - Scott is indeed inside.# Before either could reply, Charles went on. #I've alerted Ororo to your location. She is gathering a team, and should be there within a few hours.#

Kurt was sharply alert, despite the idea of hours of nothing to do but watch. #Are we just to wait?# he asked. #Or is there something more we can do?#

#Security inside the silo is heavy,# was Charles's reply, #and you would risk too much attempting to teleport inside, sight unseen. The Blackbird will be there shortly. Until then...# The pause was somehow speculative. #Perhaps there is something that can be done. Scott is... alone, at the moment, and very afraid. If I linked your minds, the three of us would be able to work together to reassure him that help is indeed on its way.#

Jamie gulped, trying not to think too hard about what the inside of Scott's head was probably like right now. Then again, if Skippy had had someone able to reach out to him... #I'm game,# he sent quickly. #Just let me know what I need to do.#

#Just relax,# was the Professor's immediate response. #Breathe deeply, and open your minds to me...#

---


Inside the missile silo, Scott's sinking fast, but Charles, with Kurt and Jamie's help, throws him a lifeline. It works - for a little while.


He remembered trying to count the number of times they'd put him back here, back into the cold and the silence. It had struck him as the closest he could get to maintaining a grip on the passage of time. And it had worked for a while. Except then he'd started passing out while they were questioning him and waking up in the silence, and so even the illusion of keeping track of time was gone.

No point to it, anyway. He didn't know where he was. Didn't know how long he'd been here. And it kept getting worse and worse, no end in sight. No hope. No rescue. He'd been so stupid to walk into this, expecting one.

He didn't even remember why he was fighting anymore.

"Scott."

Scott's breath caught in his chest, and he turned his head away from the familiar soft voice. He wasn't going to look in that direction and see the Professor sitting there in his wheelchair. Not because Charles couldn't be there, because Scott wasn't sure what was or wasn't possible anymore. Who was or wasn't here.

No, he wasn't going to look because even if Charles was here, Scott knew he wasn't here for him. Because no one was coming for him.

"Oh, Scott." No noise of movement despite the fact that the voice was suddenly closer, but Charles's wheelchair was all but soundless, so that fit. Scott made a noise that might have been a laugh, but which came out closer to a sob. "You mustn't give up. We will find you."

False. False, fake, hollow, phoney, lying bullshit.

"G'way." His voice was slurred and hoarse and broken, almost unrecognizable, and Scott moaned as he tried to pull away and slumped back to the floor, shaking. "Not real. Not."

"Scott, son-"

"SHUT UP!" He didn't care if someone outside heard him. He didn't. If they came in here, thinking he'd snapped, to drag him back to the machines and hook him up and ask him more questions... he didn't care. He'd almost welcome it. At least the pain would shut everything else out. "Shut up, shut up..."

"You asked me once to have faith in you," Charles went on gently. "Have faith in us, Scott, and we will bring you home."

He couldn't. A tiny, drowning part of him still wanted to, but he couldn't, and another near-sob escaped him. "It's a trick," he gasped out, almost incoherently. "A trick... shut up, you're n-not him..." Charles wasn't there. No one was there. None of this was real.

They had left him. They had taken the opportunity and left him. He'd let them down too often, and now he'd been good enough to walk away, remove himself from the picture. Win-win situation for them. All they had to do was leave him here, and they had. Of course they had. He'd have done the same thing in their place.

Hovering on the edges of Scott's mind, Charles could feel the confusion and turmoil within. With barely a pause--there would be time for self-recrimination later, after all--he made contact, brushing aside the hallucinations as gently as he could. #This is real, Scott,# he sent, accompanying the words with a flow of energy, bolstering the other man's waning defenses. #I am real, and we are coming to get you. Try to focus, if you can; I will stay with you.#

... something was different. About this voice. Something key.

It was inside his head, Scott thought suddenly. Not out there, in the dark. He knew the difference, he told himself dazedly. And it was an important difference. Because... why, he knew why... think, have to think...

Because there hadn't been any voices inside his head. Not this whole time. No presence inside his mind, not even once. He knew, because nothing had tried to break down his shields, and they would have if they'd been able to. They'd done everything else to try and find out what they wanted.

But then, was this...

#... Charles?# The thought was so heavy with doubt and confusion and pain that it would have been unintelligible to a telepath of less skill. Scott tried to slow his breathing down. #Are you... I don't know where I am!# It wasn't what he'd intended to think, but the fear was bubbling up and he couldn't stop it. Fear that this wasn't real, that this was just another trick. That if this was Charles, he would find out what Scott had done and decide to leave him there. He might. He was inside, he could see... #I don't know where I am, and I think I told them something, I didn't mean to!#

#That's all right, Scott,# Charles sent soothingly. #The team is on its way to pick you up, and whatever you may have told them, we will deal with it. The important thing is to bring you back.# His telepathic presence became, if possible, even more suffused with love and concern. #Hold on just a little while longer, son. Whatever they may do won't reach you while I'm here.#

Scott's thoughts stuttered to a stop at that, instinctively. They'd made him think help was coming before. More than once. #No...# he thought back at the presence in his mind, half-deliriously, that moment of realization and awareness slipping away as his thoughts started to fray again. #No, I know this... I know this, stop trying to fool me. I'm not falling for it again, go away...#

#Scott,# Charles sent firmly. #I need you to focus for me. Can you do that? Remember our lessons.# He found the scene in his own memory, and fed it gently into Scott's, a thin silvery lifeline: the two of them in Scott's study, years ago, practicing the mental discipline he'd thought might strengthen Scott's control over his misfiring powers. He'd been wrong then, but the lessons had done a great deal to strengthen the bond between them, as Charles remembered fondly.

Color. Light. Warmth. That, almost more than the content of the memory, was what drew Scott out of the downward spiral. He clung to the memory with an anguished sort of desperation. Real. That at least was real, because they couldn't change what he remembered. They couldn't touch anything before here. It was all safe.

And a little clarity crept in, somehow. #I... I've been trying,# he managed to think back at the presence in his mind. #Circles in my mind. Everything in order. But then they come back...#

#I can keep them away, for a time--create a mindscape for you that they can't reach.# It would strain him, working at such a distance, but the cost to himself hardly mattered. #One that should last until the team arrives. I might even be able to manage some company for you, other than myself.#

#Please...# He hadn't begged them, but if this was Charles, if this was real... he wanted out of the dark so badly, even if it wasn't real.

#Kurt and Jamie are just outside; they helped me find you. Let me see if they're amenable.# Charles' presence diffused for just a moment--no less present, simply attending to something elsewhere. #Ah, yes. Here we are,# he sent almost cheerfully, as his focus recentered on Scott.

And there was light.

---

It was Ororo's greenhouse. In every way, shape and form, except for the fact that Scott knew that it wasn't real. Just a facsimile, close to perfect because it was Charles, but still... not the real thing. Sitting on one of the benches, his shoulders hunched, Scott stared dully at the flowers in front of him, barely registering what he was seeing.

Kurt walked carefully through the illusion, unsure if his presence could damage it in any way, but not particularly wanting to find out. "Scott?" he called quietly.

Scott's head jerked up and he stared at Kurt, the tense wariness written in every line of his posture. Was it Kurt, or just part of the mindscape? Charles had said... something, he couldn't remember what. He was having such trouble focusing, and Kurt had been here before. Or somewhere. In the dark. Afraid?

"It is me," the other man affirmed. "Charles sent me here to tell you that help is on the way."

"I don't-" Did it matter, Scott wondered suddenly, desperately, if it was really Kurt or not? It looked like Kurt. What was the alternative? "I'm... having trouble thinking," he said somewhat brokenly, resting his head in his hands. "I don't know... I want to believe you."

"Then do," Kurt told him gently. "Because I promise you, the team are on their way and we are going to come for you."

"They made me think you'd come already. A couple of times," Scott said disjointedly, rubbing first at his temples, then at the scars on the side of his face. "I... it was just a trick."

Kurt's jaw tightened, the only outward sign of his anger. "This time it is not. Neither a trick of theirs, nor of your own mind's. I will prove it, if I can."

Scott let his head rest in his hands for a few more moments, trying to think. "I don't think... I mean, I can feel Charles. This has to be real." He gave a painful-sounding laugh. "Or, well, you know what I mean."

"It is as real as it can be," Kurt agreed with a faint smile, walking over to sit down.

"I was... dreaming. Hallucinating," Scott said as Kurt settled down beside him. "It's all so confusing. Charles was there, but it... I don't think it was Charles, and then he was in my head." It would be very nice if he could be coherent. Oh, well.

"He has been trying to find you with Cerebro since you were taken," Kurt informed him. "But until we were able to narrow it down... he did not know where to look."

"Taken... I let myself be taken," Scott amended, his real eye a bit glassy. "They had Alex. I couldn't let anything happen to Alex."

Kurt nodded, tail twitching restlessly. "He told us what happened. He is fine, by the way, though extremely worried for you."

Scott's shoulders hunched even further. "I just... I know they can't still have him, because they would have tried to use him to make me tell them..." He cut himself off immediately, giving Kurt a renewed look of wariness. "I'm not telling you," he said. "You wouldn't..." His mind walled off the sudden flash of memory of the water, of Kurt's voice and the clicking of the rosary beads. "I'm not telling you," he muttered.

That hurt, for all he understood the very good reasons behind it. "I will not try to make you. But please believe me when I say I am exactly who I appear to be."

Scott's hands were shaking as he lowered them to his knees. "I just can't take the chance."

"Then we can talk about something else. Anything you like."

"The greenhouse... the greenhouse is for philosophical talks, isn't it?" Scott's voice was disjointed again, the words too rapid, almost manic. "Or talks when things get too hard."

"I have always found it a good place for such," Kurt agreed, watching him sideways, worriedly. "Is that why we are here now?"

"I don't know. Didn't pick it." Scott folded his arms across his chest, as if bracing himself. "At least it's not dark," he said more faintly, looking around at the greenhouse.

"This room is never entirely dark," Kurt told him. "Some of the plants need the heat lamps switched on at all times."

"Sunlamps," Scott murmured. "I'd really... it's dark back there. I can't see anything."

"You do not have to leave this room before you wish to, I think," came the quiet answer. "That is why Charles made it for you."

Scott nodded almost absently, seeming to withdraw into himself. The tension in his posture didn't leave entirely, but it seemed less as he stared out at the flowers.

---

He was somewhere else, too. At the same time? Afterwards? He wasn't sure. Scott, his shoulders hunched, sat in the pilot's seat and stared around blankly at the cockpit of the Blackbird for a minute or two before he registered Jamie sitting in the copilot's seat next to him. The plane was quiet, the engines clearly off, although there were stray clouds flowing by the canopy. That didn't quite fit, he thought.

"You're outside with Kurt?"

"Uh. Yes. Technically speaking." Jamie looked around the cockpit, fidgeting slightly, and wished the Professor had given him a little better idea about how to have a conversation with your commanding officer while he was being held hostage by crazy people and you were inside his head. "We're pretty well hidden and I've got dupes playing lookout . . . the cavalry's on its way, as fast as the jet can get them here. We'll have you back before you know it." He laughed suddenly. "Y'know, this really isn't the way I pictured my first time in this chair."

"You shouldn't be outside with Kurt." Scott stared at the clouds, wishing he could focus. It was hard to think. All of this was just this... thin veneer, like a veil separating him from where he really was, and as much as he didn't want to be there, this didn't feel real enough to let him forget. "These people are dangerous. They were going to kill Alex if I didn't come with them."

"Then it's a good thing we don't train in the Cuddly Room, or I might've gotten the wrong idea when I signed up," Jamie said firmly, his grey trainee leathers gradually darkening. "I knew what I was asking for. And anyway, the Professor wouldn't've sent us in here to wait with you if we were in any immediate risk of getting spotted."

"Cuddly Room..." A tiny, desperate smile tugged at Scott's lips for just a moment as he leaned back into the pilot's seat, his arms folded tightly against his midsection as if he needed the support to stay upright. "I have the w-worst imaginable timing. We all needed a vacation. Not another crisis."

"I keep telling people we need to post a 'Invasions, kidnappings, and massive destruction by appointment only' sign out by the front gate, but nobody listens to me. Maybe a butler, too, so when people ignore the sign he can scare them away by sheer force of polite deference and cultured accent." Jamie shrugged, keeping his tone light. "We don't get to pick when this stuff happens. It just happens. We'll all just put in for overtime, or something. Unionize and demand pensions, that's the ticket."

"Overtime... I don't even know how long it's been." Scott's voice shook, and he raised a hand - no, nothing over his eyes. This wasn't real. He was wearing the ruby-quartz-lined whatever the hell it was back in the real world. "They've kept my eyes covered. I've been in the dark the whole time."

Jamie bit his lip. "Five days. Sorry about the delay, we, um, had a lot of places to search. This would be another thing the butler could do, he could get calling cards from people and we'd know where to go." He pointed out the window. "It's not dark here, though."

"It's not real, though." Scott rubbed his hands over his face, his mind trying to take refuge in sensations he knew weren't real. "Not that I know what's real and what's not... my mind's playing tricks on me. They're making my mind play tricks on me." He knew the tactics. On an intellectual level, though, which in a sense really didn't help at all.

Although the fact that his head seemed to be clearing a little? That was nice.

"You said the jet's coming, though. The cavalry." He laughed a bit weakly. "They made me think the cavalry had come already. I bought it. At least once."

Jamie winced--that reminded him of some old, bad memories of Skippy's, ones he generally avoided thinking about. "If you want to, y'know, ask me questions, or anything, to make sure it's really me and the cavalry is coming, go right ahead, because it totally is." He smiled briefly. "And I really, really hope they try to get in your wife's way when the Blackbird lands, because I gotta tell you, she's not exactly in the sunniest of moods."

"Jean." The tiny, fearful smile came back. "No... she wouldn't be, would she? It's okay, though, Jamie. I know it's you. I've been... hallucinating, I think. But I know this isn't a hallucination. It's not real, but it's not a hallucination." Scott stared out the canopy at the sky. "We still need to do this," he said doggedly. "When I get back. We will."

Jamie grinned. "You won't see me saying no. I tried not to terrorize the instructors at the flight school too much, did they tell you? Although there may have been whooping, the first time they let me actually up in the air."

"Oh, I had chapter and verse about you from your instructors... apparently I owe them a drink or two." Scott rubbed at the scars on the side of his face, then reached out to rest shaking hands on the controls of the imaginary Blackbird. "You suppose they'd let me fly her home? When they get here? Probably not..."

"That . . . probably depends on what kind of shape you're in when they find you." Which Jamie didn't particularly want to speculate about. He managed a weak smile. "But as long as we're here, y'know, we could start an early lesson, if you wanted. It'd maybe help pass the time?"

"Everything's in the right place." Of course it was. Charles had created the mindscape. "I'm just... having such trouble focusing, Jamie." His hands wouldn't stop shaking. "I remember... I remember when I let the engineering class down to take a look at her. You were all so excited."

"Well, duh." Jamie grinned at him. "I mean, my God, a Blackbird. You know--well, you know, but it blew me away when I read about it--their missile evasion procedure is just 'floor it and outrun the thing?' And that was before you got ahold of it and turned it into something really special.. Cargo room, enhanced stealth, VTOL, amphibious capability . . ." He shook his head. "I bet there's a dozen guys at Lockheed-Martin who would give any three internal organs of your choice for an adjustable spanner and five minutes alone with her."

"Jean threatened to have 'And I will love and cherish you more than the plane' written into my wedding vows. I think she was joking." Scott rested a hand on the stick for a moment. "I think I know why Charles picked here. It's... I'm in control here. I knew what needed to be done, with the plane, and I did it."

"That's a good place to be," Jamie agreed. "I was really glad to see that comment in your journal about how you'd been flying one of your grandparents' planes. This isn't something you should give up on if you don't have to."

"It felt... really natural. Being back in the air." Scott closed his eyes, as if trying to summon that memory up - only to open them again immediately, his breath catching in his chest. "Too dark when I do that," he said, his voice ragged suddenly. "I think I'd rather stay here."

"Yeah, I would," Jamie said, his expression suddenly concerned. "How you holding up?"

"I don't know. Charles is... I don't really know what's happening." Scott raised a hand, rubbed at the scars on the side of his face. "Maybe that's a good thing? I don't... I don't think anything's happening right now, anyway..."

"Yeah, probably for the best." Jamie took a deep breath, then let it out, trying to get rid of the echoes the other man was calling up. "They really will be here any minute--you're just in Wyoming, that's practically the backyard as far as the Bird's concerned. And I doubt they're sparing the horses."

"Wyoming," Scott started to say, somewhat vaguely, but then started staring down at his hands, which were shaking more violently again. "Oh," he said dully, and began to wish he hadn't said anything in response to Jamie's question. Because things were shifting, feeling too thin again, and he thought he knew why. "I hope they hurry," he said faintly.

The mindscape disassembled itself around them, Jamie eased back out of it and the link between him and Scott gently severed, before it all faded to black.