Walkabout: Chapter One

by Matt Nute

"Scotty... Wherever you are, I wish you all the best. Find our son. Keep him safe. Raise him well. I love you. Goodbye..."

"Rewind. Play."

"Scotty... Wherever you are, I wish you all the best. Find our son. Keep him safe. Raise him well. I love you. Goodbye..."

"Rewind. Play."

"Scotty... Wherever you are, I wish you all the best. Find our son. Keep him safe. Raise him well. I love you. Goodbye..."

"Rew--"

"Ship, stop." The soprano voice cut through the dark room as the screen froze. The dim illumination it provided threw shadows over Jean Grey's body, centered in the doorway. "Scott, what are you doing? It's 2 am." she asked.

Hunched over the small screen in Ship's communications center, Scott Summers rocked back and forth in his chair. His ruby quartz goggles hid his eyes, but Jean could tell his attention was focused on the image before him. A beautiful red-haired woman was frozen, in mid-word, speaking to the camera. The corner blurb on the image identified it as "NPR Television"

"Scott?" Jean repeated, her voice taking on an insistent tone. He gave no answer. With a sigh, Jean went to him, kneeling behind the chair, wrapping her arms around his chest as she lay her head against his shoulder. She tried to reach his thoughts with hers, and cursed her lack of telepathy, not for the first time.

"She's not dead."

Jean sighed. "Scott, we saw her die. We saw them all die. I know it hurts, hon, but it's been three weeks." Jean pulled herself around in front of him, her green eyes peering into the featureless lenses of red before her. "She's gone, my love. You have to accept that. But I'm here. I'll never leave you." She leaned forward, embracing him tightly. But instead of returning the embrace, Scott's muscles tightened.

"She's not dead." He set his jaw. "I'd know."

"Scott, we saw--"

"We saw Warren die too, remember!" Scott pushed back, leaving Jean startled. "And they told me she died once already. I even watched you die, Jean. I KNOW she's alive." He lowered his eyes to her face, searching for vindication. "Can't you see, honey? If Maddie and Chris are alive..."

"You loved her, didn't you?" Jean's face fell. Scott's mood suddenly changed, his impassive exterior cracking.

"Oh, Jean. I didn't mean... I.. of course I.. she was my wife, Jean. That doesn't change how I feel about-"

Jean's face snapped to meet him, her eyes growing cold. "Not Madelyne. Phoenix." The ice practically dripped from her voice. "You loved her, didn't you?"

Scott stammered. "Jean, you... we all thought it, she was..."

"You couldn't even tell, could you?" Jean stood, bracing her arms on the edge of the chair, staring straight into Scott's face. "You thought it was me, all the time? Through the psi-link, you never felt a difference? Making love to her, you never thought it wasn't me?"

"Jean, you were.. she was.. none of us could tell. I suppose once or twice, she acted more, I don't know, 'passionate' than you, but that was-"

"More passionate?" Jean clenched her fists, unconsciously warping the chair before her with telekinetic energy. "And what about Madelyne? Was she more passionate? Is THAT why you can't get her out of your mind?"

"She was my wife!" Scott snapped back. "The mother of my son, Jean! And they're both out there somewhere!"

"What about the other X-Men?" Jean retorted sharply. "Ororo? Logan? Alex, your own brother?" Scott raised a finger, then paused. His jaw quivered slightly, then an expression of amazement spread over his face.

"Of course. Alex!" He pushed past Jean and began bolting down the hallway. "Ship!" he called, "Get Cerebro online!" Running past a bleary-eyed Robert Drake, Scott rushed for the locator suite.

"Jeannie?" Bobby slurred, rubbing sleep from his eyes? "Scott's not running down the halls naked again, is he?" A telekinetic push back into his room and a slam of the door was his only response.

Inside the locator suite, Scott slid into the cushioned seat, typing hurried commands into the console. He slid the cold metal helmet over his head, closing his eyes as he felt the pain begin to start. Cerebro was meant to be operated by a telepath, but in a pinch, someone trained with the system could operate it briefly. This, he figured, was such a pinch.

*COMPARATIVE SEARCH SELECTED. RANGE?*

"Global."

*COMPARATIVE RECORD PATTERN?*

"Energy absorption patterns, analagous to entry Summers, Scott. Frequency range in the ultra-high EM frequency."

*CONFIRM: SEARCH MUTANT ENERGY PATTERNS, GLOBAL, LIMITED/UPPER SPECTRUM?*

"Confirm. Initiate scan."

Scott's body jerked as the electrical arcs snapped through his synapses. A telepath's brain was designed to handle the superspeed neuron-wetware programming of Cerebro, which used the human brain as a processor for its mutant detection abilities. Scott, however strong his willpower, was no telepath. He only hoped he could hold out long enough.

*MUTANT LOCATED. LOCATION... PRESENT LOCATION. CONTINUE?*

"Continue!" Scott howled through gritted teeth. He had programmed the computer to search for a mutant pattern similar to his own, but instead of absorbing broad-band solar radiation like he himself did, to search for an absorption pattern of cosmic rays, from which his brother Alex, the mutant called Havok, charged his power.

"SCOTT!" Jean's voice cut through the pain, and Scott felt an invisible grasp of telekinetic force heave him from the chair. The sudden disconnection sent lights flashing behind his eyes, and he cried out with the pain and the disappointment.

He blinked, finding himself held against the wall by a very angry Jean Grey, the other members of X-Factor surely joining them soon. Scott gritted his teeth, riding out the effects of the Cerebro-induced migraine. "Damn you, Jean..."

"Damn ME?" Jean yelped in surprise. "What the hell were you trying to do in here, besides fry your brain?" She released her grasp on him, sending him tumbling to the cold metal floor. Scott stood, knees wobbling slightly, and began to speak.

"I was TRYING to locate Ale--"

*MUTANT SIGNATURE LOCATED.*

Cerebro's metallic chirp was followed by utter silence. Scott stared into Jean's eyes, not recognizing what he saw there. Fear? Relief? Anger? Jealousy?

"Location?" he rasped out. The computer whirred for a moment, then replied,

*COOTERMAN'S CREEK, NORTHERN TERRITORY, AUSTRALIA. COORDINATES 10554,32111*

Scott gasped, falling to his knees. He looked up at Jean, a smile creeping across his face.

"They're alive!"

**********

Jean stood in the doorway, watching Scott pack a duffel rapidly. "You realize that they may not WANT to be found, hiding in the Outback like that." she remarked offhandedly. Scott shook his head.

"We can't raise anything to that town on any of our communications gear. I'm going to go see them."

"Going to see *her*."

Scott zipped the duffel bag shut with a swift motion, then turned to face Jean. "Jean, honey, I have to do this. If only to find out about Chris." He took a tentative step towards her, then another, until their faces were almost touching.

"Jean, honey, listen to me. I love you. I'll be coming back." He leaned down to kiss her, when her next word froze his blood cold.

"No."

Scott paused. "What do you mean, no? Jean, don't you understand? I HAVE to do this." Jean refused to meet his gaze, tearing her chin out of his grasp.

"If you leave here, don't bother coming back. To X-Factor, or to me." Her voice was cold and even. Scott's mind reeled, flashing back to similar words coming from Madelyne, over a year ago...

"Jean, I..." his voice broke. Slowly, he turned to the bed, leaned, and grabbed his bag. Slinging it over his shoulder, he turned sharply and walked from the room, not looking back.

**********

Eighteen hours later, Scott found himself bouncing across the baked clay plain, leaving the town of Alice Springs in the dust. He'd FINALLY found a map that had Cooterman's Creek labeled. Of course, the map was dated 1961, but he didn't figure the town would have moved. Although stranger things HAD happened, and seemed to be the norm with the X-Men.

He took a swig from one of the canteens he'd filled at the last stop. In the oppressive December heat, close to zero humidity, dehydration and sunstroke could set in rapidly and without warning. He glanced back to the four ten-gallon cans full of water and coolant for the Range Rover's engine. Wouldn't do at all to show up a dessicated husk, walking up to the X-Men's doorstep.

And to Maddie. Scott closed his eyes briefly, relaxing his grip on the wheel for a moment. His thoughts flickered to Jean, to Maddie, and to his missing son. Swirlign feelings of joy, fear, guilt, and disappointment warred in his heart. But he kept his face stoic. At this rate, he'd make Cooterman's Creek in just a little over three hours. After an uneasy sleep on the plane, he looked forward to seeing some friendly faces.

Ororo, so majestic with her weather powers restored. Scott wondered how she'd be dealing with the oppressive weather here. The utterly bone-dry air made for difficult weather conditions, and clouds were rare as oases in the outback.

Logan, on the other hand, was probably enjoying every minute of it. The harsh desert was as vicious and unforgiving as his namesake, the wolverine. He and Piotr would probably be right at home, enjoying the peace and solitude that the isolation provided.

The other X-Men barely crossed his mind. Scott had never been incredibly close to Rogue or Dazzler, and the newer members, like Psylocke and Longshot were enigmas to him. And then...

And then there was Alex. His younger brother. Hotheaded and impetuous, Scott and Alex had clashed personality-wise often in the past. Like fire and water, they never seemed to mesh peacefully. 'Havok' described Alex to a T. Yet, when it came down to the crunch, they were brothers. And blood was thicker than any bond that Scott knew.

Then, Madelyne. Would she greet him with open arms, or cold rejection?

"Scotty... . I love you."

Her voice rang in Scott's memory. He floored the accelerator. If he pushed it, he could be with his wife by sunset.

**********

The town was abandoned, it seemed. Scott pulled the Range Rover up to what appeared to be a bar and killed the engine. Just as well, since the gas gauge had been pushing 'E' for the past fifteen miles. He tossed the door open and strode out into the street. Shading his vision with a hand, he could make out s row of small cottages in the distance. Taking a deep breath, he started walking toward them.

A low rumbling began to echo throughout the town. Scott immediately pivoted, scanning the horizon out of instinct. His trained eye picked out a speck in the distance, flying rapidly, skimming close to the ground. Almost before he could blink, a green-and-black suited blur sped by him, pulling a ninety-degree turn upwards to kill momentum.

"As ah live an' breathe..." the sultry alto carried through the cloud of dust. Scott waved his hand in front of his goggles, attempting to clear his vision. As soon as he could see, he found two steel-strong arms thrown around him as he was lifted off the ground in a bearhug. "Howdy, Cyke!"

Scott coughed, and managed to wriggle free. Falling on his butt in the dusty street, he held a hand to his ribs and managed to wheeze out, "Hello, Rogue."

"Sorry 'bout that. Guess we're all kinda on edge around here. Bet you're kinda weirded out seein' us alive, huh? Wolvie was wonderin' how long it'd take fore y'all in X-Factor set Cerebro to lookin' fer us. Wait, ah thought we were s'posta be invisible? Well, not that it matters, but hey, where's everyone else?"

Scott grinned despite himself, waiting for the moment to get a word in edgewise. "Rogue?"

"Yeah, sugah?"

"Where's Madelyne?"

Rogue hitched a thumb up the road. "The bungalow on the corner. Most everyone's out to Sydney for supplies. Gateway, he's that little guy up on that there rock, he 'ports 'em off now and then. It's just me and Betsy, and Maddie..."

Scott had already taken off at a run for the bungalow. Rogue paused.

"...and Alex... Oh shit... CYKE!" she bellowed at the top of her lungs, leaping into the air. "DON'T!"

Scott either ignored or didn't hear her cry, as he opened the door...

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