"I can't believe that I let this happen," his hands were braced behind his neck and his body was slouched over as he sat on the uncomfortable bench in his jail cell that substituted for a bed. He refused to look up and allow her to view him in such an embarrassing state, even though he had admitted that he would do everything again, he was still humiliated while in her presence. All of the things he had done and said, mainly to her, ate away at him and made his stomach warp and turn into a knot – the caliber of his guilt was unfathomable, and he knew that there was nothing he could say that would make up for his previous actions.
"None of us knew it would escalate so furiously, Scott," Emma shrugged, seemingly indifferent to the whole situation, "but there wasn't much you could have done to prevent it," she glanced away from him to check her fingernails – she was sure she had chipped one by gripping onto the bars that caged Scott – but she was too preoccupied to focus on primping, "tensions between us and the Avengers have been rising for quite some time. Steve Rogers and his band of poorly-dressed groupies made a mistake by stepping onto sovereign land and threatening us. If anything, they should be the ones apologizing, not us."
Scott couldn't help but to scoff, "good luck telling that to anyone else. As far as most of the universe is concerned, we should be hung without a trial."
"Isn't it ironic? Sworn to protect a world that hates and fears us – and look at what happens when we attempt to follow through with that motto. You are behind bars and we're back to square one," Emma rolled her eyes, "but I can't say that I'm surprised. There's a sympathy factor when it comes to the Avengers – which makes absolutely no sense, since we were the ones who were decimated by one of their teammates, we were the ones who got burned alive on Genosha, who were – and are – locked up simply because we have an x-gene. Tony can ignite a civil war and exile people to the Negative Zone and it's ignored as soon as the situation cools down."
"And he's an alcoholic in an iron suit with more than a million dollars worth of weaponry built in."
"Now, now, Scott, play nice," she couldn't help but to smirk at his snide remark; after all, bitter Scott had always been her favorite Scott. "But yes, you have a point. The Maximoff's are not much better – we all know what Wanda is capable of when she has a hissy fit," Emma shifted her weight to one leg and crossed her arms over her chest, standing on such a hard floor for so long was surprisingly uncomfortable, even in a shorter heel, and she had no clue how Scott was sitting so still on a bed that appeared to be made out of gravel. "I could make a list of all of the complete whack-jobs they have assembling whenever Uncle Sam raises his tacky little shield, but that would just be redundant."
Scott could easily keep the subject going – he could bring up Osborn and their used-to-be-triple-agent-spies that still teetered between "good" and "evil", but that wasn't what he had requested her presence for. Because of this, he didn't comment on her previous statements and, as per usual, dove into the conversation head-first, "Emma," he sighed as he spoke and finally removed his hands from behind his neck, letting them lazily dangle in front of his jump-suit clad shins while his elbows rested on his knees, "I am," he paused for a second and furrowed his brow from behind the gear given to him to prevent a surprise optic blast, "I am so sorry, for hurting everyone, for hurting you," he looked up at her, the heavy weight of his helmet threatening to snap his neck as he did so.
"You can't shatter a diamond that easily, darling," she grinned at him, but wasn't shocked when his face – the little bit that wasn't hidden – remained unimpressed and unenthusiastic.
"I'm serious, Emma," his tone was slightly firm; "the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you. I don't know what came over me, and I don't know what to do to make it better."
"You were possessed by a fiery, cosmic force that lives solely because of destruction, Scott. There were five of us sharing the power – none of us had any clue that it would corrupt us so quickly and so easily. The Phoenix got the best of you, it does that to everyone, and there was nothing you could have possibly done to prevent that."
"But I," there was another pause, "I killed Charles – the man who saw me as a son and trusted me with his biggest dream. Look at how I repay him, Emma, I murder him. Charles is dead because of me."
"Oh, honey," Emma ran her fingers through her hair – her nonchalant attitude was always her best defense, especially when dealing with Scott – there was no denying the fact that he was wound too tight, "Charles in an X-Man, he'll be shining the top of his bald head in Logan's bathroom and lecturing in that awful British accent in no more than a week, it's how we are, we never die. We're determined, pesky critters who don't know how to stay in a bloody grave, Jean is proof enough."
"That's not helping," it wasn't visible, but he was glaring at her from behind his ruby goggles.
"The point is, you did not kill Charles. You had no control over your actions. The Phoenix had you in its fiery talons and you couldn't get yourself out of it. I know that saying such a thing most likely doesn't help or change how you feel, but a vast majority of the actions you committed were not because of you. Frankly, you have nothing to apologize for. You took necessary action against the Avengers when they stepped foot on Utopia without an invitation. Everything you did, in my opinion, was completely justified."
Scott couldn't help but to laugh, "You are a cold woman, Miss Frost."
"It's all in the name, sweetheart," Emma couldn't begin to describe how exhilarating it was to hear the man laugh. Even when he wasn't behind bars, it was a fairly rare thing for her to witness, and she couldn't help but to smile in response.
She knew it was too good to be true, happy Scott never lasted as long as bitter or bereaved Scott. He could swing into a mood faster than Raven could shift into someone else's skin.
"After everything that happened – how can you still be standing here so calm?"
"Because, Mister Summers," she turned on her heel and glanced at him from behind her shoulders, "no matter how moronic or devastating your actions and words might be, I will always have an uncanny fondness for a man who wears clothing tighter than mine."