1965-03-23 - Utopia: Brain Games
Summary: Jean and Scott have a picnic circa 1984, and discuss where to go next with this strange town.
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None', — please don't leave blank!
Theme Song: None
scott-summers jean-grey 

The mutant herself was a living and flesh being. She also could turn herself into a portal, where people would use her as a conduit to pass through to another place, another time. Every now and then, under the close watch of Jean, she walks and talks on all fours, explaining life as -she- knew it to the redhead, often times sharing a meal together in the closed space, Jean often holding her as she cries for her parents in the middle of the night.

To say that the supposed leader of the X-Men (for now) was busy is an understatement. Jean was burning the candles at both ends with no end in sight. Students needed supplies. Food needed to be ordered for the kitchen staff. One of the teachers had an issue with his back and needed a custom chair built, supplies for that were ordered and the students got to work. The lawn needed tending, gym needed buffing. There was a quiet mission or two here that X-Blue put on and Jean often went out in the night by herself to take down an odd robber or purse snatcher. Something small.

And then, it was back again. Finally finding time to drag Scott from his own work-life vigil to accompany her, as promised, to Central park.


There was weirdness in this Utopia. The music was great, something she had only heard in dreams. The food was fantastic, and everything was unusually bright. The sun shone harder that day than she had ever seen, the grass seemed greener, and a blanket that was taken from a basket full of picnic blankets (freshly laundered, we might add), was laid upon the ground.

Another weirdness? As soon as Jean laid it upon the ground, food service delivery delivered the food free of charge because Jean and Scott? They were not locals. They were new. Yet.. how did the man know?

Sandwiches. Steaming briskets. Anything they could imagine was spread out, Jean leaning forward to buffer the blankets and swipe grass away. Scott would notice immediately, not a bad feeling in sight. Everyone seemed happy. Unusually happy. And it was peaceful.

"See what I mean?" Jean said. "I do have the feeling that you shouldn't have any strong, negative emotions. From what I could pick up, it seems like the world can't handle it." Yes. She meant it. The world.

Scott Summers keeps a placid expression, something he's always capable of doing. Scott may not be the most positive person in the world, but no one would accuse him of not having his emotions in check. Positive or negative, he calculated the way he reacted to the world as much as he calculated the precise angles of his trademark optic blasts.

He wears his glasses rather than his visor, though, not anticipating a need for violence. "I'm not sure if that's particularly reassuring. What kind of Utopia can it be if you have to mind how you think? Sounds a little Orwellian," he says, sitting comfortably cross-legged. He found the entire journey here rather staggering and impossible, the sort of thing you might see on the late night picture show, not experience directly. But, then, so much of his life was already surreal and impossible. Why not, then, this?

"That's what we're trying to figure out." Jean states. "Something happened in this time because there are no X-Men. Unfortunately, she can't pin down when, she only said it was what her parents told her. Maybe the time is wrong but.." Jean puts on a little smile as she begins to put out the plastic plates, and carefully begins to dish out foot. ".. I don't see anything wrong with enjoying it a bit while we do some fact-finding."

Scott Summers nods, "Fair enough," he says. He's not particularly prone to relaxing on missions but, at any rate, putting on the pretense of relaxation seems to be the order of the day. "Can you sense anything, in terms of monitoring your thoughts, then?" he says, carefully lining up his utensils as he keeps an eye out for anything happening at the periphery.

Jean shakes her head, though her face scrunches a little as she thinks about it. ONce the food was put upon the plates, she settles down, leaning a bit to the side as she waits for him to eat. "Sometimes." She admits, looking around as well. The park was peaceful enough. People jogging, dogs following behind without leashes, couples talking.. even far away, much like before, there was music to an acoustic guitar, someone singing and others dancing. It looked.. fun.

"Sometimes I feel like something is watching me. Like.." She grunts softly. "..I know something bad is going to happen." Her mood doesn't dampen though, thank goodness for her being a manipulative empath. "Like, there's more to this. And I think it's all our fault."

Scott Summers takes a few bites, "Fault is a complicated thing," he says. "Unless we rule and impose our will in this way…I don't see how," he says. "I'm as unforgiving of failure as anyone, but, if we fall, we fall. I believe in fighting the good fight, for the right reasons. And the right reasons may look a lot like this on the surface, but, from what you're telling me, what's underneath might be more…sinister."

Jean listens, then finally reaches for a fork, but doesn't make anything of her food. She just pushes it around, then looks up, and finally takes a bite. Why not.

"Maybe. For instance.." She points out with her fork. "..where have all the X-Men gone?" Her brows went up, then she gestures around. "Mutants are walking side by side by humans. All manner of color of humans do not seem oppressed by one person or another. People are openly holding hands, being kind. Genuine. But why?" She asks. "What did we do? How did we achieve the dream? And mainly.. Where -are- we?" She gestures.

"If we've achieved all of this, and I'm not saying that we should get some sort of medal or statue in the Park over there.." But the fact remains. They quite possibly could have seen themselves at least by now. Central Park is a happening place, after all.

"Do we have kids? Can we tell?" She pauses. "Not you and me.. I mean.. us .. as.. you know.. we find people and then we.. you.. uh.." She grabs her fork, then shoves a piece of brisket into her mouth to chew and mumble.

Scott Summers nods, "I know what you mean. But, on the other hand…a lot of what we do has been secret. Always has been. Glory would be nice, absolutely, but the Professor always made it clear that we might not only not get credit, we might be seen as outlaws. Even criminals," he says.

"There must be some sort of library, some sort of history here," he says, "And if there isn't, why not? And how is it being suppressed?"

The final question quirks the corner of his mouth, "I know what you meant. I'm not sure any woman could tolerate me long enough, although hope springs eternal."

"Come on Scott." Jean says playfully. "We're talking global fixes here. I don't see any homeless people. The streets are clean. Nary a polluted cloud in the sky almost. It's safe to say that if we aren't getting any medals or holding some weird political office that something is completely wrong. There isn't even a Warren Industries here. And the police? Heck, they don't carry guns. Only snack packs and stickers for the kids, and adults who want them."

She takes a sip of her juice, then gestures towards him. "I don't know you well enough, but why do you think that someone wouldn't tolerate you long enough? You're hardworking, you'd make an ideal husband for someone who enjoys the straight laced, totalitarian lifestyle.."

Scott Summers nods, "Might not be a bad idea to get samples of stickers and snacks. To analyze," he says. "I can't imagine us doing anything that could have that broad an effect on the world, on that kind of scale. Maybe I'm not giving us enough credit, but it seems…beyond," he says, shaking his head, "It's hard to measure, without knowing specifics."

He shrugs at the last, "I guess that's the problem - the kind of women I tend to like aren't usually the kind who enjoy that life. I like women who are fiery, passionate, temperamental. True believers. The other side of the coin, so to speak. But they usually think I'm a square. And I am, so they're not wrong."

"Oh, we can't take it back with us if we do. Something about some timey wimey crap Henry blabbed on about." Her hand waves a little, then she nods. "What you said though, I suppose we can find a library and look up some archives. Why not. That's a perfect way to go. We need more eyes though, I highly doubt we can do it ourselves."

Though, as the conversation turns, Jean shakes her head slightly. "I highly doubt that any woman would want to date a man who's as fiery and passionate as her all the time. We need polar opposites sometimes. A calming and just.. regular pace. Being on an adrenaline high all the time isn't fun, Scott. I should know, I spent my better years on that high and pretty much locked away in an insane asylum."

Scott Summers nods, "We can scout a location, at least, before we go back and then prepare an actual team to do the research," he says. "We'll have to figure out the right talents to use," he says.

He winces a bit and nods. He'd read her file and knew her history, at least inasmuch as she'd told the Professor. "And it's not always fun being in control all the time. It's not as if I don't know I'm uptight - I just don't know any other way to be. Somebody's got to be a grown-up and, usually, that was me."

A cute little mutant girl just then pops up from around the bushes, bounding towards Jean and Scott. Just as Jean was about to speak, she immediately chirps up, asking for food. It catches Jean off guard, and as a smile was put upon her face, Jean reaches over to grab her entire plate, wrapping it with napkins and begins to speak. "I highly doubt we need a baseball team for that. Nor their talents. Just people who like to read do research, and good penmanship is a plus."

Once the food was wrapped up, she gives it to the little girl without thinking, as well as a can of soda. "Now, you eat that first before you drink your soda, sweetie." The little mutant girl pops happily away, and Jean finally relaxes again.

"Alright. I'll meet you in your office. We're going to do a little brain game. You can cut loose and no one would be none the wiser. I'd be like a dream. Besides, you need that in your life, probably at least once."

Scott Summers watches the girl take the food in her cheerful way and skip off. He can't help but be suspicious. He didn't see a lot of happy children growing up. It seems almost…unnatural.

"A brain game? All right," he says, curious and amused. "And my penmanship is excellent."

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