He had no clue in the world what he was doing. Scott thought he was done playing hero—thought he’d lost whatever it was that drove him. There was no doubt he never thought he’d have an injured mutant lying on, and bleeding all over his couch. But you were there anyway, and this was his irrational decision to save you. Still, he didn’t regret it. It reignited a sense of purpose in him that had been dimmed since losing Jean.

"Can you remember anything?" Scott inquired softly, his gaze gentle as he looked down at your battered form. He wondered who you were… if the others knew you, and whether he should alert them of your existence or not. You had passed out on the way to his place, so he was making sure you didn’t lose your memory as well as your consciousness. "Take this, it will ease the pain," he offered you a cup of a mysterious liquid. "Don't give me that suspicious look... If I had ill intentions, I wouldn't have bothered helping you."