Title: One Eye Blind
Author: Megan
E-mail: jayafel@fanfix.zzn.com 
Rating: PG13 - slight R
Archive: Fanfiction.net, Anyone else: please ask me
first
Universe: Mostly Movieverse
Summary: Just a short story.  What if Scott hadn't
been the teacher's pet all of his life?  We always
knew that he had a dark side.  We just never knew how
dark.
Disclaimer: I do not own Scott or Mr. Marsden. 
Although either would look great in my room!  ;-)
Notes: Jean is a wonderful person.  (Cough)  Really. 
Don't think I hate her.  I just hate Scott/Jean.  I
got the idea for this story from a internet site about
the movie.  While the majority of the plot was
correct, the author had gotten the whole beginning of
the movie wrong.  His statement about Scott got me
thinking.
Dedication: To Chrissty.
 
 
One Eye Blind
 
 
  He looked at the bag at his feet.  It hadn't cost as
much this time.  This time he still had his dignity. 
The bag was half empty after only a few hours.  He had
needed much more this time.  Almost too much, he
thought as he tried to shake off the bad trip.  But he
needed it to stop the pain in his head.
  His headaches were getting worse and now his eyes
burned all of the time.  The last dealer had said
something about the dark circles surrounding bloodshot
eyes.  He rubbed roughly at his eyes.  The pain and
burning just wouldn't go away no matter what and how
much shit he did.
  He stood up and shoved the bag under the bed.  He
had about six hours until the stupid prom.  He groaned
as his knees turned into jelly yet he managed to stay
upright.  He brushed his hair quickly with his fingers
and looked into his mirror.
  In the last year he'd lost nearly thirty pounds
making him the scrawniest kid in the senior high
class.  He used to be an all-A student with an amazing
ability to win soccer championships.  But then his
head had started hurting and his bastard of a foster
father had left some of his shit around.
  He had tried it, stupid kid that he was.  But it
made his headache go away so he stashed some of it
until he could figure out where to get his own.  He
found his own outside a pool hall on Prarie Parkway. 
The first dealer had introduced him to crack and
speed.  The second one, recommended by the first, had
started him on heroin.
  Now he wore long sleeved shirts all of the time.  He
never played soccer anymore and he never studied.  All
that mattered was stopping the pain in his head.  He
pulled his rumpled tux from the closet and started to
put it on.  He had found it in a cheap store on Lake
and Diamond.  The classic corner store had charged him
a deposit because he'd looked like trouble.
  He took one last look in the mirror and laughed. 
Tonight he was taking the classic high school
cheerleader to the prom.  He certainly didn't love
her.  Hell.  He didn't even like her.  She was blonde
after all and he had a thing for redheads.  But she
had been the only girl who would go with him.
  So he picked up the cheap carnation and smiled into
the mirror.  His once bright blue eyes now seemed a
dull shade of purple because of the red lines in his
eyes.  Even on this 'important' night he had red eyes.
 He walked out of his room and grumbled something at
the man who supposedly took care of him.
  The drunk never looked up.  And he didn't care.  In
seven days, he would be legal and free to never come
back to this rat trap.  But not before he stole all
the shit the bastard had.  Why not get it free while
you could?
  He picked up his date and went through the motions
for most of the night.  Suddenly his buzz wore off. 
He started arguing with his date... whatever the hell
her name was.  He finally stormed off and took a stall
in the men's room.  He lifted his sleeve and pulled
out the syringe.
  He found a spot on his arm and waited as the drug
took effect.  The familiar rush hit him quickly.  He
closed his eyes and licked his dry lips.  After a few
seconds, he dropped the syringe into the toilet and
flushed it.  He could still see it in the bowl but
didn't care anymore.  Let someone find it.   They
couldn't prove it was him.
  He went to stand in front of the grimy sink and
splashed some water on his face.  He straightened up
to look in the mirror and gasped.  The stuff must've
been bad, he mumbled.  His eyes were bright red.  he
blinked and felt the burning once again.  He opened
his eyes and screamed as a bright beam of red light
erupted from his eyes.
  The mirror and the wall behind it crashed into the
women's room.  He could hear girls screaming over his
own piercing cries.  He covered his eyes with his
hands and ran toward where he had last seen the door. 
Somehow he managed to get as far as the main dance
hall before someone grabbed his arms.
  The unknown figure pulled him to the nearest seat
and tried to get him to move his hands from his face. 
He started to try to gouge his eyes out and had to
finally be restrained by two teachers until the cops
arrived.
  So he spent the night in jail.  No one knew what to
do with him.  He had been given a cell of his own. 
And they had sent a doctor in to check him out.  No
one knew what was going on.  He slipped slowly to form
a ball in the darkest corner of the cell and tried to
sleep.
  After seven days in the cell, he celebrated his
birthday blind and alone.  He heard something though. 
He could hear footsteps and a strange whirring noise
coming closer.  He followed what was going on with his
ears.  The door slid open and the whirring noise came
into the cell.  He looked up but kept his eyes tightly
closed.  His hands were shaking from withdrawl.
  Suddenly a voice boomed out to echo off the walls. 
"Hello, Scott.  My name is Charles Xavier."  He
suddenly had the feeling that his life would never be
the same.
 
The End