TITLE: King

AUTHOR: BlackDiamond

'SHIP: S/J/L again. More S/J than J/L, but you know how it is.

SERIES: The Game

RATING: PGish

SUMMARY: How to stop a desperate man from making a desperate discision?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Don't get your hopes up for anything yet. Remember, there are still three stories left. Aren't I evil?

FEEDBACK: All right, it's time for the secret weapon . . . drumroll please (drums roll) . . . *BD unleashes the puppy dog eyes* Please? Pretty please?

ARCHIVING: I'm an archive whore, if you want you got it.

DISCLAIMER: Here I am, innocently writing a story, and I get ambushed by these military guys in fatigues and stuff. They knock me out, and when I wake up I'm in this room like in the Natasha and Boris scene from 'True Lies', and this distorted voice says, "Why have you stolen the characters?" I explain that I'm just a lowly fanfic author and that I get nothing from any of it and . . . they let me go. Weird, huh? Stan Lee, I worship you. There's a reason why we call you 'The Man'.

~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~x~

King

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When Scott walked into Xavier's office with his head down and his shoulders stooped. Charles knew right away that whatever had been happening between Scott, Jean and Logan had come to a head, and probably violently. Scott never slouched.

"Professor, I need to take a leave of absense." His voice was low, quiet, withdrawn. "I need to get away for a while."

Frowning slightly Charles leaned forward on his desk, curious and unwilling to read his protege's mind. "Are you alright, Scott?" It was obvious the man wasn't, but anything to get him to come out of his shell.

There was a pause as Scott came forward and sat down across from the great mahogany desk. "No, I'm not. I can't handle being here anymore. Everywhere I look there's a memory of us."

So it was about Jean. Xavier could feel Scott trying to get a hold on his emotions before he spoke again. "We were the first ones here. We've been fighting for you and living together for so long and . . ." His voice trailed off.

"I need to know what the world is like without her. What the worlds like just as Scott."

Charles didn't want to let the man leave, but he didn't really have a choice. Scott was miserable and if he needed to leave his home to overcome that, then so be it.

No. The thought was quiet, like a whisper on the wind, but the Professor knew immediately who had 'spoken' it. She was listening through the strange psychic raport she shared with Scott.

"Have you spoken to her about this?" He kept his voice low, quiet, aware of the bond and of the fact that Scott didn't know it had been, re-opened? Since when had it been closed? This was serious for his oldest students.

Finally Scott gave up and the tears began to flow, burning up in the heat of his uncontrollable optic blasts before he had the satisfaction of feeling them slip down his face. "She doesn't know what she wants right now, and me bugging her about it isn't going to help anything."

I want you. Again that same almost-silent whisper.

"Have you tried to communicate mentally? She has always had a way with thoughts." Trying to lighten the mood definitely didn't work.

"She shut me out."

Xavier was stunned. He had thought the link they shared had just fallen into disuse. The notion of one of them intentionally blocking the other was unthinkable, and yet that was what had happened.

Scott. This time it was louder, just slightly, and Scott looked up slightly.

After a moment of nothing more he shook his head, trying to get rid of her imagined voice in his mind, and stood. "I'll come back soon Professor. Thank you for everything." And with that he was gone, the door closing gently behind him.

Xavier could hear the thought behind Scott's last words lingering in the room. I'll try to come back.

She wouldn't let him leave, not without at least talking to her first. She flew down the stairs as she felt him walk out the door, not looking back. And slowly came to the realisation that yet again, as it had begun, her raport with Scott was one sided. He couldn't fee her.

It was all they had ever needed to survive anything, and now he didn't have it.

Still running, trying to catch up with him before he could get out of the garage in his Porsche, she closed her eyes and opened her mind. Having lived in the school almost her entire life, and being telekinetic, she had problems running blind.

Scott, don't leave, she shouted into his thoughts as the engine turned over. She could smell the exhaust as if she were there.

And he froze.

Jean? It was hesitant, gentle, kept within the confines of his own mind even though she had taught him to project long ago.

She sighed in relief. I'm here.

Fin