The X-Project

While helping out with his grandparents' airline, Scott and Jean talk about impromptu vacations, his absent father, Alex-as-trainee, and midlife crises.


"You don't get a much better view than this," Scott said, glancing out the window at Mount McKinley before he turned his attention back to the controls of the Twin Otter. They'd dropped the group of climbers off about an hour ago, and were heading back to Anchorage. Pitching in to take some of the scheduled flights had been a very easy way to help out; Phillip was out of the hospital and back home, but wouldn't be doing much beyond resting and recuperating for the time being.

"It's definitely one of the most beautiful places in the world," Jean agreed from the co-pilot's chair. "Are we sure that we want to go back this time?"

Scott's lips curved in a faint smile. "Stop reading my mind. Oh, wait."

She grinned over her shoulder at him. "Weirdly, that joke never seems to get old... Truthfully, though, Scott, right now? I really don't want to go home. And it's not like classes start that soon. We don't need to think about getting back yet, do we?"

"... no, we really don't," Scott said after a moment. "Besides, with the two of us pitching in, Phillip can feel better about resting and letting the airline take care of itself for a while longer. I really don't want him doing anything but resting," he went on a bit awkwardly. Fussing didn't come easy to Scott, even for the people he cared about, but Phillip's heart attack had shaken him more than he'd been able to bring himself to admit, even to Jean. It seemed strange to remember that he'd only been back in touch with his grandparents for a few years; they were like this constant... rock in his life.

"That's settled then," Jean said, reaching over and resting her hand on Scott's arm for a moment. "And I'm glad. You Summers men do have this funny tendency to push yourselves harder than you need, and anything we can do to stop Phillip from trying..."

"If my father would get his ass over here, I'm sure it would help," Scott groused. Chris had called, more than once - daily, as a matter of fact - but apparently there had been some 'complications' in Madripoor that kept him from leaving right away. He had promised he'd be over as soon as possible, according to Deborah.

"I'm going to be good and not point out the inherent contradictions in the fact that you want him here and that you don't particularly want to see him at all," Jean said, then paused, affecting a look of surprise. "Oh, whoops."

"It doesn't matter what I want," Scott grumbled. "It matters what Phillip wants - and that he's probably worrying, now, about what his son could possibly be up to that he can't get here. Recovering from a heart attack is hard enough without wondering if your long-lost offspring maybe accidentally touched off a gang war, or some such bloody thing..."

Which was not Phillip's worry, but Jean didn't think pointing that out would really help. "Somehow I doubt that's what's keeping him. For one thing, I have trouble seeing Chris doing something like that accidentally." Although she could easily imagine her father-in-law doing it on purpose.

Scott just grunted, and made a slight change in their heading. "I'm not looking forward to seeing him, when he finally deigns to make an appearance," he said finally, "but I'll be good. No hitting. Or even arguing."

"I'm sure Deborah and Phillip will appreciate that," was all Jean said, then abruptly changed the topic. "Do you think there are any good restaurants in Anchorage that do take out? I was thinking it'd be nice to have a family dinner without Deborah worrying about cooking or cleaning up."

"There's a decent Italian place," Scott said, wondering a bit at the subject change, but perfectly happy to go with it. No reason to spoil a perfectly nice flight snarling about his father. "Deborah and Phillip know the owner, too, so he might be willing to do take-out even if they don't habitually."

"Yes, that could work. No cream sauces or cheese for Phillip, but there's bound to be something healthy enough. Think Alex can distract Deborah long enough for us to set it all up?"

Scott smiled. "I have full faith in Alex's diversionary capabilities," he said, and then chuckled. "Remind me when we do go back to show you the last Danger Room run he did before we left. Thing of beauty."

"Oh? Well, now I'm curious. Also slightly worried." She arched an eyebrow at him.

"It has to be seen to be believed." Scott was grinning, at this point. "But it's good to know I'm not the only one in the family with a taste for unconventional thinking. We need to get him more grounded in the capabilities of his teammates, though - it's one thing to be dangerously creative in a solo context."

"And rather another in a team," Jean agreed, nodding. She turned another grin on him. "At some point you have to let me throw him around the danger room, you really do..."

"I thought actually I'd let you and Nate have at him together," Scott said, and his smile wavered a bit. "Well, you know. Separately, together. Repeatedly. Practice makes perfect."

"Yes, well, both of us together would be excessively evil, even for you," Jean said, but her heart was definitely no longer in it. Mention of Nate had her thinking of him, and of Jay. They'd had no updates from Amelia, but Jean somehow couldn't believe that no news was good news in either case.

Scott's gaze went to her for a moment, then back to his controls. "2008 has not been so great a year," he said, not quite idly. "Which is, you know, on pace from 2007, but damn, I wish we could get a break once in a while..."

"I sometimes wonder if asking for a good year isn't overly ambitious. We need to work up. Good days are easy, and good weeks we can do. The next step is clearly to go a whole month without any crises or sudden hospitalizations."

"We keep having these conversations. I feel like we're getting repetitive." Sad commentary on their life, too, if you chose to look at it that way. "Although I must be having a total mental shift in priorities in my old age, because I really have no problem being here and playing pilot for the grandparents, whatever else is going on at the mansion or in the rest of the world."

"Your 'old age' indeed," Jean snorted. "Scott, you are not allowed to have a mid-life crisis at thirty. I simply won't let you."

She got a quick, blandly innocent look. "But midlife crises look like such fun. I could buy an even faster car."

"Surely the new plane can satisfy that urge?" she suggested.

"I'd be lying if I said it didn't scratch the itch, at least a little." If you could really call it an itch. His gaze slid back towards her for a moment, almost slyly. "Do women have the equivalent? Should I be worried?"

"Oh, well, I'm already married to a younger man, I think we're safe."