Crossroads and Consequences

Natalia Romanoff walked away, guiding the young wallet thief with the effortless authority of someone who had been doing this far too long. Scott's gaze followed her retreating form, though not for the same reasons as Duncan and his friends.

They were watching her with lustful stares, their eyes shamelessly focused on the sway of her hips, their snickers and muttered comments barely masked under their breath. It was predictable, juvenile.

Scott, however, had no interest in that.

His focus was on something far more dangerous.

Natalia Romanoff—the Black Widow—was watching him.

Even if she hadn't outright revealed it, the way she had entered the situation, taken control with surgical precision, and subtly studied his reaction had been telling.

He was on her radar.

Scott had expected to be observed, even suspected. It was inevitable considering his association with Bobby and Hank. S.H.I.E.L.D. wouldn't overlook that. But the fact that Black Widow herself was here and not watching Hank and Bobby? That meant she was paying much closer attention to him than he'd anticipated.

He wasn't just another student in her files.

He was likely her primary suspect.

Scott swallowed the irritation that surged inside him, his expression carefully neutral as he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away. No use getting worked up about it. If she was watching him, then he would have to watch her too.

As he started walking, Jean fell into step beside him, her presence casual but not unintentional. She gave him a sideways glance, a knowing smile playing at her lips. "You know, it's kind of weird seeing you act like an actual teenager for once."

Scott raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. "What?"

Jean's smile widened. "I mean, I just caught you staring at Miss Russell's ass. Just like Duncan and the others."

Scott rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply as he turned away. "I wasn't."

Jean gave an exaggerated nod, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Right, right. Of course, you weren't. No shame in being a teenage boy, you know."

Scott said nothing, his silence only making Jean more amused. After a few moments, she crossed her arms and changed the subject. "So… were you actually going to fight Duncan and his friends? Over some thief?"

Scott didn't immediately answer, his gaze fixed ahead. His expression was calm, unreadable. "I was trying to de-escalate the situation," he finally said. "But Duncan kept pushing it." He sighed, rubbing his temple briefly. "That kid may be a thief, but it's not up to Duncan to decide his punishment. He was looking for an excuse to hit someone. He's frustrated that Hank took his spotlight, and this was just an outlet for that frustration."

Jean nodded slowly, studying his face. Scott's words made sense, but something about them nagged at her. Like he wasn't telling her everything. "Still, disappearing like that? Kind of reckless, don't you think?" she pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "Considering what you've been telling us about the Marauders and the assassin? About how we're supposed to move in groups?"

Scott tilted his head slightly in acknowledgment. "Yeah, I did say that."

Jean gave him a look, catching the slight evasion in his tone. "So, what? Do as I say, not as I do?"

Scott didn't confirm or deny it. He just kept walking.

Jean let out an exasperated breath, shaking her head. "You're putting yourself in a lot of danger, Scott."

Scott didn't react right away, but she could tell he had been expecting that statement. "I know." His voice was calm and steady.

Jean frowned. "Then why?"

Scott's footsteps slowed slightly, and for the first time, he seemed to hesitate. "Because you all still have a choice."

Jean blinked, her frown deepening. "What?"

Scott glanced at her, his expression unreadable but heavy. "Right now, you, Warren, Bobby, Hank… even you, Jean. You all still have the option to walk away. To live normal lives. You haven't done anything yet that cements your path. But there's going to come a moment—maybe soon—when that choice is taken from you. When the world won't let you go back to normal, no matter what you want."

He exhaled softly, turning his gaze forward again. "My moment came and went a long time ago. I don't have that option anymore."

Jean stared at him, trying to process his words. She had known from the beginning that Scott was different. She had seen it in the way he trained, the way he fought, the way he carried himself—as if he was constantly preparing for war.

Now, she understood why.

He wasn't just fighting for Mutants.

He was fighting to make sure they had the chance to choose a life he never could.

-X-

The warmth of the evening settled over the Xavier estate, casting a soft glow through the windows as Charles Xavier sat at the dining table, a rare moment of solitude accompanying his meal. The aroma of well-prepared food filled the room, a quiet comfort amidst the usual chaos of his work.

"Thank you, Amelia," Charles said as she placed a steaming plate in front of him. He offered her a small smile, appreciating the effort.

Amelia Voght, ever efficient, merely nodded as she straightened. "Are you sure you don't want to come join us?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

Charles chuckled softly. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm expecting a call soon. I wouldn't want to disturb you and Alex. Though I might come join you later."

Amelia smiled, nodding her head before picking up two more plates, her tone fond but firm. "Well I'm sure two heads will be better than one when it comes to getting Alex to actually finish his homework instead of using training as an excuse to avoid it."

Charles arched a brow, his amusement deepening. "So, that's his reason for the slip in grades?"

Amelia let out a sigh. "He's been too caught up in training with the X-Men. He thinks just because his powers are coming in stronger, he can afford to slack off in his academic work."

Charles nodded knowingly, setting his silverware down momentarily. "Perhaps we should make it a condition going forward—no training unless his homework is complete."

Amelia smirked. "I was thinking the same thing."

With that, she gave a small nod of farewell and left the room, carrying two plates for herself and Alex. Charles watched her go, momentarily reflecting on how much she had done for Alex since he arrived. Despite her initial reluctance to be involved, she had naturally taken on a caretaker role for the boy, making sure he stayed grounded even as his abilities developed.

Her maternal instincts had definitely come out when it came to Alex, almost immediately after she met him. It was that very same maternal instinct that had caused friction between her and Scott. But after she had returned, Charles had seen how she had rectified that. In a way she was more focused on Scott than Alex which was why his recent slip in academics had gone unnoticed initially.

Though since the return from Dunfee, Scott had seemingly been avoiding Amelia as much as he had Jean. Charles knew he was partly to blame for that, he and Amelia having talked about what happened.

'perhaps I should try and speak with Scott about Amelia?' Mulling that though in his head, Charles went to pick up his knife and fork, ready to enjoy his meal, only for his phone to buzz on the table beside him.

Charles glanced down, his brows rising slightly at the caller ID. Moira MacTaggert. A genuine smile touched his lips as he wiped his hands on a napkin and answered. "Moira, my dear, it's been too long."

"That it has," came Moira's warm Scottish lilt from the other end. "You've been keeping yourself busy, Charles. I've seen the latest news about your X-Men's exploits."

Charles exhaled through his nose, knowing exactly what she was referring to. "I take it you're speaking of Fort Washington?"

"Among other things," Moira replied, a hint of teasing in her voice. "Making a spectacle of breaking a young mutant out of a high-security prison? That's certainly one way to make your presence known."

Charles sighed, rubbing his temple. "It was necessary. Young Robert was in immediate danger, and we couldn't afford to wait. I needed to act."

"I don't doubt it," Moira admitted, her voice softening. "I've been following along, and I have to say, you've managed to gather quite the group. Some promising recruits, indeed."

Charles leaned back in his chair, a note of satisfaction in his tone. "They are eager and determined. I believe they will make fine X-Men in time."

There was a brief pause before Moira spoke again, her words more measured. "But it seems like you don't have control over one of them."

Charles knew exactly who she was referring to.

He let out another sigh, this one slower, more resigned. "Scott is…a wild card."

"I gathered that much," Moira responded with a knowing chuckle. "I don't think I've ever seen you struggle to rein someone in quite like this before. Not since Erik."

Charles shook his head, swirling his glass of water absentmindedly. "He is highly committed to the cause, Moira. But he is also incredibly independent, unshakably strong-willed. He has his own vision for what must be done, and while it may not always align perfectly with my own…his heart is in the right place. He does possess some alarming similarities to Erik, I won't lie. But he is also far less…rabid I suppose one could say."

Moira hummed thoughtfully. "And do you trust him?"

Charles was quiet for a moment before answering. "I trust his intentions. I trust his dedication. But I do not yet know if I trust his methods. We have come to a compromise, but how this turns out I cannot say."

Moira let out a low chuckle. "That's quite the admission, Charles."

"It's a complicated situation," he admitted, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I imagine it is," Moira replied. "But you always did enjoy a challenge."

Charles smiled faintly. "That I do." There was a pause before he steered the conversation in a different direction. "You asked about other mutants earlier in our emails. I assume that means you've found some of your own?"

Moira chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. "You know me well. I have three potential candidates. I'll send over their files later today."

Charles' brows lifted. "Three? That's impressive, Moira."

"Well, I do have a knack for this sort of thing," she said playfully before her tone turned more serious. "And what about you? How did your meeting with Winston Frost go?"

Charles hesitated before answering. "My attempt to recruit Emma Frost failed."

There was silence on the line for a moment before Moira exhaled. "I told you, Charles, you should've let me come along as originally planned."

"It wouldn't have made a difference," Charles admitted, shaking his head. "Winston Frost was never going to let her go. Not willingly."

Moira sighed. "Perhaps you're right. But we'll never know for sure now, will we?"

"No, we won't," Charles agreed quietly.

Another beat of silence passed between them before Moira spoke again. "Don't dwell on it, Charles. You win some, you lose some. And besides, there will be other opportunities."

"I certainly hope so," Charles said, rubbing his chin in thought. "Because something tells me we're going to need all the allies we can get."

"Then let's start with the three I found," Moira said. "I'll send you everything shortly. Keep me updated, yeah?"

"Of course," Charles replied warmly.

"Take care, Charles."

"And you as well, Moira."

As the call ended, Charles leaned back in his chair, staring at his untouched meal.

There was always more work to be done.