Capítulo 47: Burden of Leadership
The sun was low in the sky as Scott and Logan walked side by side back to the hotel, the tension between them still palpable. The fight had been brutal, and though Scott had given it his all, Logan had won. Now, with each step, Scott could feel his body protesting—the ache in his muscles, the sting of the still-healing cuts, the throbbing in his nose. His bloodied, bruised face was a reminder of just how outmatched he had been. Still, he walked with his head held high.
Logan broke the silence first, his voice low but gruff. "Don't even think about running away again, kid."
Scott clenched his jaw, glaring straight ahead. "Shut up, Logan."
The older man smirked but said nothing more, letting the quiet settle between them again. As they reached the hotel, Scott pushed open the door, walking inside with a bit of a limp.
Amelia was waiting for him in the room. The instant Scott stepped in, her face lit up with a mixture of relief and worry. Her eyes immediately landed on his battered face—the dried blood around his nose, the swelling around his eye, the exhaustion etched into his posture. She rushed to him, her fingers already reaching out as if to inspect the damage.
"Scott!" Her voice trembled with concern as she gently touched his shoulder. "What happened? You're hurt."
"I'm fine," Scott muttered, shrugging off her touch. He moved past her, heading straight for the bed. "I just need to rest."
Amelia frowned but didn't push further. She could see the tension in his body, the frustration, and she knew better than to press him when he was like this. She stayed quiet, watching as he collapsed onto the bed, rolling over to face the wall.
As the silence stretched out, her own anxiety began to surface. She had been the one who contacted Charles, who ultimately brought Logan into the picture. She wondered if that decision had destroyed the fragile trust she had been building with Scott. Had she just undone everything?
But her worry was cut short when Scott's voice broke through the quiet.
"I'm going back to the mansion," he said, his tone flat and final.
Amelia blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, she just stared at his back, processing what he had said. Then, slowly, a small smile formed on her lips, a wave of relief washing over her. He was coming back. He wasn't running anymore.
"That's good," she said softly, her heart lighter. "It's really good."
Scott didn't respond, but Amelia could feel the weight lifting off her shoulders. She was determined now more than ever to help him, to be there for him. He had been through so much—things no one should have to endure alone. And now that he was coming back, she vowed to help him overcome all of it, to help him find something close to happiness, or at least peace.
-X-
The next evening, a yellow taxi pulled up to the familiar gates of the Xavier mansion. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the grounds. Logan climbed out first, stretching his arms, his usual gruff expression in place. Amelia followed, her gaze shifting to the mansion with a quiet sense of anticipation.
Scott stepped out last, his face still marked with the remnants of the fight, though the bruises were already beginning to fade. He stared at the building in silence, his emotions carefully locked behind a stoic mask.
Before he could even take a step toward the entrance, the front doors flew open, and Alex Summers came sprinting out. His face was a mix of joy and anger, tears already brimming in his eyes. He didn't hesitate as he threw his arms around Scott, pulling him into a tight hug.
"Scott!" Alex's voice was choked with emotion. "Why did you leave? Why didn't you tell me anything? I thought something happened to you!"
Scott stiffened, unsure of how to respond. His arms hovered awkwardly before he returned the hug, his gaze flickering around as if looking for an escape. Out of instinct, his eyes found Amelia, seeking some sort of help in navigating this unexpected reunion.
Amelia stepped forward with a soft smile, gently placing a hand on Alex's shoulder. "It's okay, Alex. Scott went with me to meet some mutants—potential recruits for the mansion. We didn't want to worry you."
Alex blinked, turning to her with wide eyes. "But why didn't you let me come along? I could've helped."
Scott let out a tired sigh. "You're too young, Alex. You still don't have full control over your powers."
Alex pulled away slightly, his expression turning frustrated. "I've been training hard! You know that! You're the one who's been helping me control them."
Scott didn't deny that. He had spent hours working with Alex, teaching him to harness his powers. But that didn't change the fact that Alex wasn't ready. "You've improved a lot," Scott admitted. "But you're not there yet. You're still too young."
Alex clenched his fists, ready to argue more, but Amelia stepped in with a quiet, soothing tone. "Alex, Scott's just worried about you," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "He doesn't want you to get hurt. You're important to him."
Alex stared at her for a moment, his anger simmering down as he absorbed her words. He still didn't like it, but he understood. "I just… I don't want to be left behind," he mumbled.
"You won't be," Amelia assured him. "But for now, let's just take things one step at a time, okay?"
Reluctantly, Alex nodded, though the disappointment was still evident in his eyes. He turned back to Scott, who gave him a small nod in return. The moment was tense, but it was enough for now.
Before Alex could say anything else, a calm voice from the entrance stopped him.
"We can discuss this later," Professor Charles Xavier said gently, rolling out onto the front steps in his wheelchair. His gaze was warm, though a hint of concern lingered behind his eyes. "For now, I think Logan and Amelia could benefit from some rest. And Scott and I have much to talk about."
Scott felt the weight of Charles's words settle over him like a heavy cloak. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation, but he knew it was inevitable.
Alex opened his mouth as if to protest, but Charles placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "We'll speak again soon, Alex. I promise."
Reluctantly, Alex nodded, stepping back as Scott gave him a brief nod of reassurance. Logan, already halfway to the kitchen, called over his shoulder. "Gonna grab a beer. Been a long couple of days."
Amelia lingered for a moment, offering Alex a soft smile before guiding him back toward the mansion. She could see the hurt in his eyes, the sense of being left out, and she wanted to be there for him, to help him feel less alone.
Scott, meanwhile, stood at the base of the stairs, watching as Charles gestured for him to follow. "Come, Scott. We need to talk."
Scott hesitated, glancing back at Amelia before turning to follow Charles up the steps. His body was exhausted, every muscle screaming for rest, but he knew Charles wouldn't let him off that easily. This conversation had been a long time coming.
As they made their way through the mansion's halls, Charles remained quiet, though his presence was a calm, reassuring one. Scott, on the other hand, was tense. His mind was already running through everything that had happened—from the battles in New York to the fight with Logan. He could still feel the fatigue deep in his bones, the accumulation of small injuries from his skirmishes. Cuts, bruises, sore muscles—nothing broken, but he felt worn down.
Charles, ever perceptive, glanced at him. "How are you feeling, Scott? I imagine these past days have been grueling."
Scott shrugged, trying to downplay the toll the events had taken on him. "I'm fine. Just a few bruises. Nothing serious."
Charles's brow furrowed slightly, though he didn't press the issue immediately. "You look like you've been through more than a few bruises."
Scott didn't answer, his gaze fixed straight ahead. He didn't want to admit how worn out he truly was.
When they reached Charles's office, Scott stepped inside, the familiar room bathed in soft, warm light. He sat down across from Charles, who rolled behind his desk, his fingers interlaced as he observed Scott quietly.
For a long moment, the two men just stared at each other, the air heavy with unspoken tension. The silence stretched, becoming almost unbearable, before Charles finally broke it.
"What were you thinking, Scott?" His voice was calm but carried an edge of disappointment.
Scott swallowed, feeling the weight of the question settle on his shoulders. He didn't have an easy answer. He wasn't even sure how to begin explaining the choices he had made, the reasons he had for leaving, or the things he had done since. But he knew Charles would expect an answer, one way or another.
The room felt smaller, the air tighter. Scott remained silent, knowing that whatever he said next would shape the course of their conversation—and possibly his future.
-X-
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The air in Charles Xavier's office was heavy with silence after his question, his piercing gaze locked onto Scott. Scott shifted in his chair, momentarily caught off-guard by the intensity of the inquiry. Charles' voice was calm but firm, the underlying tone clear—this was no casual conversation.
"What were you thinking?" Charles repeated, his voice cutting through the quiet. "Attacking Oscorp?"
Scott's initial reaction was to play it off, but something about the way Charles stared at him—the seriousness, the expectation—made him pause. He realized this wasn't about his decision to leave the mansion without permission, nor the chaos that had unfolded in Dunfee. It was about something far deeper than that. He sighed, deciding that this conversation needed to be real.
"I wasn't attacking Oscorp," Scott finally said. "I went to rescue a mutant being held and experimented on. You can ask Amelia if you don't believe me."
"I don't doubt that," Charles responded, shaking his head slightly. "But are you aware of the consequences your actions are causing? What happens now because of what you did?"
Scott fell silent for a moment, his mind drifting back to his earlier conversation with Amelia, where doubts had surfaced. He had been so sure of himself when he'd gone to rescue Warren, so focused on the mission. But now, he could feel the weight of those consequences. Despite that, he wouldn't show any hesitation now.
"I've thought about it," Scott said firmly, his expression unreadable. "But it doesn't change anything. I did what was necessary, regardless of the consequences. I'll always move to rescue a mutant in need, no matter who stands in my way."
Charles studied Scott for a moment, his eyes softening. "I admire that about you, Scott. Truly, I do. You have a conviction that few possess. But these actions… they have rippling effects. The anti-mutant sentiment is growing, spreading more rapidly than it was before. Your intervention made that happen faster."
Scott nodded, taking in Charles' words. There was a moment of silence, where the room seemed to tighten with tension, and then Scott spoke again, his voice low but resolute.
"I understand that, Charles. I do," he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of someone who had long thought through this reality. "But I'd rather live with the consequences of my actions than the knowledge that I stood by while an innocent mutant was tortured. I couldn't let that happen. Could you?"
Charles sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Neither option is good. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place, I see that now. I've been clouded by my own worries—worry about how reckless your actions were, the danger you put yourself in. And, yes, the impact it's had on the world at large."
Scott's gaze softened slightly. He could see the genuine concern in Charles' face. "I know the risks, Professor. I'm aware of the consequences of what I did, but we're going to have to make difficult decisions like this in the future. Sometimes, saving an innocent is going to have big negative impacts on our cause."
His next words were slower, as if he were figuring them out for himself as he said them. "Are you really okay sacrificing the few to save the many?"
Charles tilted his head, his brow furrowing, but before he could answer, Scott pressed on. "Because that's what it feels like to me right now. You're focused on saving the many, even at the expense of the few. I'm not sure I can do that. I want to save both the few and the many, not one over the other."
Charles frowned at Scott's statement, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned forward. "I don't wantto sacrifice the few for the many, Scott," he said firmly. "That's never my goal. But I'm also not in favor of reckless actions that could have been avoided. I believe there was a different route that could have been taken, something less drastic."
Scott's eyes narrowed, his patience waning. "And what route would that have been?"
Charles fell silent, his brow furrowed in thought. It was clear he didn't have an immediate answer. After a long pause, he sighed. "I don't know," he admitted, a touch of frustration in his voice. "I can't say for certain. But I believe there are always other ways to achieve our goals—ways that don't involve inciting fear and worsening the situation."
Scott stared at him, not satisfied with that answer but understanding that, in this instance, there was no easy solution. After a long, tense silence, he finally relented, "Maybe. But sometimes, we don't have the luxury of finding that other way."
Charles studied Scott carefully. "It's a hard question, Scott. I've had to wrestle with it for years, and I still don't have a perfect answer. But that's why we talk. That's why we make these decisions together."
Scott stayed silent, reflecting on the weight of that statement. There was no easy solution here. It wasn't a black-and-white decision.
"What about Hank and Warren?" Charles asked after a moment. "You spoke with both of them recently, didn't you?"
"Yeah," Scott said, the tension loosening in his voice. "Hank is coming here with his parents to talk about learning to control and develop his powers. Warren… he's still undecided. He's thinking about his options, about staying in New York, maybe working as a solo hero."
Charles nodded, satisfied with the answer. "And you, Scott?"
Scott's eyes met Charles' once again, and for a moment, the room seemed to still. He hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "You and I share the same dream, Charles," Scott began slowly. "But as this conversation has shown, I'm not willing to make the difficult choices you seem to want me to make."
He paused, and Charles remained silent, waiting.
"There are threats out there, Charles. Big ones. And we can't just wait for them to come to us. We can't just be reactive. We need to deal with some of these things preemptively."
Charles raised an eyebrow. "Do you believe the team we're building is only a reactive force?"
Scott nodded. "Yes. That's what I think. You're waiting for the danger to present itself, and then you act. And sometimes, that's too late."
Charles took a moment to reflect on Scott's words before he spoke again. "And that's why I need you, Scott. That's why you need this team."
Scott looked at Charles, confused. "What are you talking about?"
Charles leaned forward slightly. "You're willing to make the reckless decisions. You see the threats coming before they arrive. You act decisively. But at the same time, you need someone to remind you of the broader impact of those decisions—of how it affects not just the enemy, but everyone else around them."
Scott's brow furrowed. "But that balance can also be debilitating, Professor. We'll just slow each other down."
Charles nodded. "It can, if we let it. But that's why I'm offering you something. Autonomy in the field."
Scott straightened, interest piqued. "What do you mean?"
Charles smiled faintly. "When the team is out there, I want you to be the highest authority. Your decisions will take precedent over anyone else's. You'll have the freedom to make the calls based on the situation at hand. But outside the field, we'll plan together. You and I, as equals. Balancing the need for immediate action with careful consideration."
Scott blinked, absorbing the weight of the offer. He stayed silent, processing the implications of what Charles was suggesting. It was more than he had expected, more responsibility than he had asked for.
"Take some time to think about it," Charles said softly. "I don't need an answer now. But I want you to consider it carefully."
Scott nodded slowly. His mind was spinning with thoughts, but outwardly, he remained calm. "I will."
The silence hung in the room for a moment longer before Scott stood up. Without another word, he turned and left the office, closing the door quietly behind him.
-X-
The wind had died down outside, and the night had settled over the mansion by the time Scott reached his room. His conversation with Charles had left him with more to think about than he had anticipated. He had thought Charles would chastise him for sneaking away, for being reckless, but instead, the conversation had gone in a completely different direction.
Charles had offered him something valuable—autonomy, respect, and the freedom to make the calls in the heat of battle. Scott hadn't expected that. He had anticipated resistance, a clash of ideals, but instead, Charles had given him exactly what he needed: control. It was everything Scott had been searching for, yet accepting it felt like walking a fine line.
As he sat on the edge of his bed, his thoughts spiraled, replaying the conversation over and over. He had left the mansion to avoid being controlled, to avoid following orders blindly. But Charles was offering him the opposite—freedom to lead, to decide, and to act.
But at what cost?
Scott's mind drifted to Cyclops, to the memories that weren't his, yet felt so familiar. Cyclops had often been in similar positions, making the difficult calls in the field, carrying the weight of leadership on his shoulders. Scott had been so determined to forge his own path, separate from those memories, but now he wondered if this was his destiny after all.
To lead.
To make the hard calls.
Scott lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his mind still racing. He didn't want to become a mirror image of Cyclops. He wanted to find his own way. But as he considered Charles' offer, he realized that maybe—just maybe—he could find a way to balance both. To take the best parts of what Cyclops had learned and merge them with his own instincts, his own decisions.
The world was changing, and mutants needed someone who could see the threats coming before they arrived. Someone who could act decisively and not hesitate when it mattered most. Scott could be that someone. He just had to figure out how to do it on his terms.
His eyes flickered closed, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Tomorrow, he would need to give Charles his answer. But for now, he allowed himself a brief moment of rest, his body sinking into the mattress as his mind continued to churn with possibilities.
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