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Hank wouldn’t call Alex Summers a nice guy.
No, scratch that. Hank would call Alex Summers an asshole.
It's not like he is a bad person, he's just... A bit of a bitch.
Never cared about anyone's feelings too much, and always said what he thought. Hank can’t remember how many times Alex teased him for no reason, made fun of his work, and generally acted like a huge fucking jackass.
But despite all of that, he still considered Alex his friend. They went on so many missions together that it’d be a problem if he didn’t. When you spend that much time with someone else, flying over different countries with nothing to do but talk to each other, you have no option other than becoming friends.
So no, Hank didn't have a problem going on missions with Alex. He was calm, professional, and a total beast (No pun intended) when kids were in danger. Hank felt like his back was covered and safe whenever Alex had his six, and that's all that mattered at the end of the day.
They were on their way to a “mutant research facility”. Charles insisted on using professional names, but among the X-Men, they usually referred to them as "Cunt-center".
The Professor wasn't very fond of that, but preferred that term to Sean's "Wanna-be-Nazis" suggestion.
Looking at Alex at the pilot seat, Hank remembered how much he fucking hated the suits they wore.
They were scratchy and uncomfortable, and way too yellow for anyone's good. Hank was in a rush when he first designed the suits, a bit put off by the whole "nuclear war waiting to happen" thing, so he didn't think much about the color. Alex was probably the only one who didn't look like a printing error in these horrible suits.
And now they are stuck looking like highlighters on rescue missions. Because Charles insists that the yellow suits make them seem "more approachable". Hank loved the guy, he really did, but sometimes he got why Raven kept threatening to push him down the stairs.
While he was busy sulking about the suits (The yellow really clashed with his fur), Alex landed the plane. Hank had taught all of them how to pilot (on a basic level), and ever since then, Alex insisted on being the pilot whenever they took the jet out.
Exiting the plane, the chilly October wind tugged at Hank's fur, making him shiver slightly. Once the aircraft was camouflaged properly, they made their way quietly down the fire escape.
The facility was supposed to be empty. They got intel that the building was abandoned 28 hours ago. The task here was to try and find any trace that might suggest where they might have gone, and, more importantly, where the kids they took were.
Hopefully, they'll find something helpful.
Splitting up, they began searching the floors one by one. Hank tore the office rooms apart, but it seemed like the assholes were thorough- they didn't leave anything behind. Not even a coffee mug in the communal kitchen (And ain't that something, Hank thought. Torturing kids all day, then going up to grab a snack and talk about the weather).
Down on the basement floor was where they began finding things. There were cells there, and a laboratory. It was just as empty as the rest of the building, but there was still evidence of the horrors done there.
The cells were equipped with good locks, new generation ones. A few of the cells had old blood splatter inside. One of them didn't have a bed, but instead, chains that hung from the ceiling.
Most of them had some kind of mark on the wall. Hank stopped and looked inside a cell that had "Help" engraved into the stone wall, very clearly by small fingernails, trying not to throw up.
He was jolted away from his thoughts by Alex's scream. Immediately, he ran towards Alex's voice, and when he finally got to the cell at the far right end of the room, He found Alex kneeling near a kid, about 13.
Alex seemed fine, but the kid looked horrible; his clothes looked like they had never been washed, his face was a mixture of bruises and blood, and his eyes were covered by something that looked like dirty fabric.
Hank looked around the cell. This one was different from the rest; it was white and used to be locked with something heavier than the rest of the cells before Alex destroyed it. The cell was covered in wood from the inside.
Alex was frantically pulling on the ropes and chains that tied the kid to the wall, tossing them aside when they gave up, and immediately ran his hands over the kid's body, scanning for injuries that weren't evident by eye alone.
The boy flinched back, but the moment Alex's hand reached his hair, he let out a wounded sound and collapsed against the older boy, clearly exhausted. Alex, on the other end, wasted no time and quickly secured the boy in his arms. Alex, the guy who wouldn't high-five people he didn’t know for at least 2 years, had one arm around a kid he didn’t know, holding him in a sitting position. The other was holding his head against his chest, close to the heart, while the kid clung to him so tightly Hank thought he was trying to bury his face in Alex’s shirt.
Alex was holding the kid's head as close to his chest as humanly possible, and shifted him slightly so that he could lift him up without jostling him. Then, he began making his way to the plane, mumbling the whole way up.
When they reached the plane, Hank expected Alex to fasten the kid in the passenger seat and to start the engine.
What he didn’t expect was for Alex to sit in the passenger seat, trying to secure the kid to the one next to him. Alex insisted on piloting ever since Hank taught him how, and seeing him give up the seat so quickly was weird.
When Hank entered the plane, Alex signaled with his head in the direction of the pilot's seat. Still surprised, Hank took it.
He flipped some switches up, and a few minutes later, they were in the air, heading home.
The flight passed in silence. Hank couldn't see what Alex was doing. He spent the flight wondering why the hell Alex was so nice to the kid, and honestly, he couldn’t come up with a single idea.
After about an hour, they finally reached the school. Hank alerted Charles that they were coming in with an injured kid and began the landing process.
When they touched the ground, Hank was surprised to see the kid's head resting on Alex’s shoulder, the fabric still covering his eyes.
“He fought me when I tried to remove it,” whispered Alex when he caught him looking. “I was scared he was gonna injure himself more if I took it off.”
Hank opened the jet's door to reveal a serious-faced Charles. Meanwhile, Alex picked the boy up in his arms again. He didn’t even stir, probably passed out from exhaustion or injuries. Alex began walking carefully over to Charles, Hank closely behind.
"How did it go?” asked Charles as they got closer.
“Nothing indicating where they went," Hank stated. "Only one kid. Looks about 13- malnourished, dehydrated, but doesn't seem to suffer from any life-threatening injuries."
“Thank you, Hank. And you are sure the entire building was empty?”
“Yes, we are sure. Now, if ya don’t mind, Scott needs medical attention, like, right now.” Urged Alex.
Scott?
Had the young boy awoken on the plane without Hank noticing?
Charles took one look at Alex, his face going blank. He started rolling toward the school. “Come with me, Alex. Mr. McCoy, go take a shower. Good job today,”
Hank listened to the professor and headed to his room to shower. From the corner of his eye, he saw Alex hurrying to the infirmary with Scott and the professor. Hank ended up showering for quite some time, trying to wash this day off of him.
God, that cell with the chains, Hank shuddered just from thinking about it.
And the other cells. They were all empty, but it was visible that they used to hold prisoners. Mutants. Like them. And they were probably kids like Scott. Where were those kids now? Are they ok?
Hank had seen his fair share of cells designed to hold mutants. Hell, he designed some of it himself. He knew the cells he saw today were temporary ones. Not intended to be opened for purposes like passing food or water.
Scott was left there to die.
God, his face, with that dirty fabric covering his eyes… and the way he clung to Alex… Hank didn’t want to imagine what he must have gone through, but his mind supplied him with ideas nonetheless.
After what felt like hours, he finally came out of the shower, wearing some weird sweatshirt that looked like it should have been burned with the witches in Salem. Not feeling like resting, He decided to check on the new kid in the infirmary, to see if Scott needed something or if he could lend a hand in another matter.
Anything but sitting around and replaying the last few hours in his head.
In the pharmacy, he could see Charles's wheelchair peeking through the curtain of one of the beds. He could also hear Alex speaking in an angry tone.
“-not answering, and the secretary at the school told me he wasn't there for a whole fuckin' year -”
“Hello, Hank,” Charles’s voice stopped Alex mid-sentence. “Do you need anything?”
“No, professor, just came here to check if there is anything I can help with,” he said, awkwardly trying to figure out the conversation he had just heard.
Alex moved the curtain a bit to look at Hank, revealing the bed with Scott on it.
His face was clean, all of his injuries had been treated, and he was wearing clean clothes instead of the dirty, ragged things he had worn before. His eyes weren’t covered by the filthy piece of cloth anymore, but instead were covered in a clean piece of white material.
“Why are his eyes still covered?” he wondered out loud.
“Scott's power is the same as Alex’s, except that the heat comes out of his eyes, not his chest.” Answered Charles. “Unfortunately, we don’t think Scott is capable of controlling the blast, and therefore our only safe option right now is to keep his eyes covered.”
Hank looked over to Alex, who looked more than willing to get heat blasted in the face to avoid covering the kid's eyes.
“Oh, umm, yeah, makes sense,” mumbled Hank, feeling awkward. “So you don’t need help around here, right?”
“Scott is the only one in the pharmacy right now, and his condition is stable,” stated Charles. “Go get some sleep, Hank, you look like you need it. I think we both need it,” he gave Alex a weird look while rolling out of the pharmacy next to Hank, and Alex gave him back a thankful one.
Hank and Charles made their way back to their rooms in silence, but when they reached Hank’s door, he suddenly asked, “Professor?”
Charles stopped abruptly. “Yes?”
“Do you know what’s going on with Alex?”
“I have a clue, yes.”
“Is he going to be alright?"
Charles smiled at him sadly. "All alright? I don’t think so. But better? Definitely.”
Hank was getting tired of trying to figure everything out. “Good night, professor.”
“Good night, Hank.”
Needless to say, he didn’t have a good night.
In the morning, Hank had a class to teach.
That wasn't unusual, except for the fact that this time it wasn't his class he taught. Charles asked him if he could replace Alex today, and since he had nothing else to do that morning, he agreed.
But that was still weird. Because even though Alex wasn't really "teacher material", he was dedicated and never missed a class. He loved his students, even if he didn't show that often, and cared about their education.
Hank figured he was still with the kid they found.
That's good, Scott probably felt safer around him, and he'd need someone to help him right now. While all the kids were doing their assignments, the young teacher wondered if he could make something for Scott that would allow him to see. Maybe if he combined the technology from Alex's first suit with-
The bell rang, and all of the kids started collecting their stuff. Hank didn't have any other classes to teach for the next hour, so he decided to check on Alex and Scott in the pharmacy.
When he got there, he stopped in his place immediately at the sound of Alex's voice.
There was nothing wrong with it, it was just so…
Delicate.
And caring. Way softer than he thought Alex was capable of. Alex was always the straightforward kind of guy, never sugarcoating anything, and always the one to just say whatever needed to be said. So yeah, hearing his voice like that was… weird.
He was talking to a healthier Scott, at least from what Hank could see. He picked up a few words here and there, but it looked like they were talking about the school.
"-is a bozo, but he is also real nice. He is kind of a genius, helped me control my power, and made me my suit. He'll help you, I promise. You can trust him."
Hank felt like he was intruding on a personal conversation, so he cleared his throat to let them know they were not alone.
Alex stopped talking, and a young voice Hank didn’t recognize said, “Hello?”
Scott.
“Hi,” he said nervously. He didn’t know this kid at all, and he had just gone through a very traumatic experience. What if he messes things up or upsets him? What if-
Everything is fine. Hank told himself. It’s not your first time handling traumatized kids. “Are you feeling all right?”
Yes, he saw the face Alex gave him, the one that meant he thought Hank was an idiot. Ignoring it was a conscious choice.
“Yes, thank you, sir,” said the kid.
God, His voice was so young. Far too young for a kid that was in a dirty cell, far too young to still have his eyes covered. He was leaning a bit toward Alex as if he felt safer near him. It was a bit heartwarming to see, but so painful to remember that this child probably has no one in this world.
“I am a bit sore, but the professor said I am healing well, and that I’ll be able to walk again after some rest,” Scott added.
“I’m glad to hear,” he muttered.
“How was teaching my class?” asked Alex, a nasty smile on his face.
“It was… something.”
“They are a nightmare. Just admit it.”
Hank would never admit something like this. “They are very unique.”
“Oh, Shut up. They are a bunch of insufferable kids, and you hated every second ya were there.”
“I thought you loved the kids you teach,” deflected Hank.
“I do. Don't make them any less of a nightmare, though.”
“YOU ARE A TEACHER???” Asked Scott, amazed.
“Oh, shut up, will ya? I’m not that kind of teacher.”
“Alex Summers, a teacher,” said Scott, facepalming. “What a nerd.”
To be honest, Hank was a bit scared for the younger boy's life at this point. NO ONE called Alex Summers a nerd. No one. How could this little kid be bold and stupid enough to do that?
But instead of killing Scott, Alex just laughs. Then, he jokingly punched Scott's arm, telling him that if he were a nerd, then the kid is the king of nerds, and he would make him a crown out of books. In response, Scott attempted to punch Alex in his chest but missed. They began hitting each other lightly, Alex being careful not to hurt Scott any further.
What the hell was going on?
Two days later, Scott was released from the infirmary.
Hank helped the professor arrange a room for a new kid. Like a lot of the kids, Scott had nothing of his own to move into the room. So he and Charles organized a bed with sheets and a stuffed bear as they did for all of the new students. The room also had a desk, a Chair, and a really ugly rug, but the closet was empty aside from two T-shirts, two pairs of pants, and a PJ that should fit a boy Scott's age.
New kids were usually placed down the hall with other kids in their age group. Not far enough for the teachers to take a long time to come and help in case it's needed, but far enough to give them a bit of privacy.
This time, Charles insisted on placing Scott in the room next to Alex's. There was a door connecting the two bedrooms, so it wasn't even a room by itself, but Charles was pretty insistent on that arrangement. Assuming Scott needed extra supervision, Hank didn't question the professor's decision.
He heard Alex and Scott coming into the room, Alex helping the younger kid to walk in a straight line even without being able to see, and Scott huffing and telling Alex he didn’t need any help and to stop annoying him.
Well, at least Scott got some confidence after a few days out of that place. Hank can’t imagine how he was before that.
“The secretary in the school told me he wasn't there for a whole fucking year.”
Hank shook the memory off.
Thinking about what could have been and what happened wouldn't change a thing. And it seems like Scott is recovering nicely, reigning in some of the guts he definitely had before and trusting them. Well, trusting Alex at least. But one step at a time.
When the boys reached the room, Alex whistled in admiration. “Nice room ya got here, kiddo,” he said, ruffling his hair. “Great view too.”
“Fuck off,” answered Scott, trying to feel his way around the room.
Yeah, that was more like the Alex Hank remembered.
A few days later, Hank passed Alex’s room on the way to his own.
The door was closed, but he heard screams and the sound of something shattering. Afraid something might have happened to his friend, Hank quickly opened Alex's door, only to discover the young man sitting on the floor, head against the wall, one hand holding a phone, and the other in his lap, knuckles bleeding onto his shirt.
His face looked hollow, eyes shut tight as if he thought if he closed his eyes strong enough, he'd wake up somewhere far away. He was wearing his training uniform, the one he wears when he takes his class out to practice. They were a bit muddy, but the only blood on them was from Alex's hand.
He opened his eyes as Hank entered the room, not saying anything. Alex stared at him with a blank expression, one that conveyed so much torment and emptiness at the same time. He was, in every way, shape, or form, a mess.
"Hey," Hank said, approaching softly. "Uh, are you ok?"
God, he is bad at this.
"Do I look fucking ok?" Alex asked, raising his head to look at Hank. "I am sitting here like a fucking idiot, and I broke the fucking mirror Raven put 'ere, and I can only say fuck like a fucking 10-year-old. Is that your definition of ok?"
Unfazed by Alex's minor outburst, Hank sat in front of him. He looked around, noticing the way Alex clutched the phone in his hand as if it were a lifeline, and seeing that yes, Alex did punch the mirror and break it, because there were pieces of glass everywhere, including in Alex's bloody knuckles. He saw Alex in some pretty rough situations before, but never like that, never so broken. He looked like the world had just shattered around him, along with the mirror.
Even in Cuba, when everything fell apart and they didn't know if the professor was going to make it, Alex stayed calm. He was angry, sure, but he had never looked so devastated and hopeless.
"Wanna tell me what happened?" He asked.
"Called my mom," said Alex in that same empty, broken voice that didn't sound like him. "Scotty, he uh... he went to the lake with that girl, Jane. And I thought..." he shook his head as if laughing at his stupidity. "Thought I'd give her a call, see if she knew what happened. Have any leads on the fuckers, you know?" Now he was laughing, the sound bitter and angry. "Haven't talked to that bitch since she kicked me out. Now I remember why."
Hank wondered how he never knew Alex was kicked out, and why in the hell would Alex think his mom should know anything about what Scott went through, but he honestly didn't care. Alex was his friend. His stubborn, idiotic, arrogant, and mean friend, but his friend nonetheless. And he was clearly in a lot of pain right now.
"Did she know anything then?" He asked.
Alex snorted. "Oh, she knew something all right. I never thought..." He went quiet for a second. "When my mutation started, they told me to leave. Told me I'd hurt everyone around me, told me I'd hurt him. So, I left. And I made sure to be in solitary until the professor came and got me."
He took a deep breath as if trying to stabilize himself. "But, I mean... It's ME. I get it. They were afraid I'd hurt them, hurt him. Afraid I'd lose control. Kicking me out, I can understand. But they fucking called those labs on him when they discovered he was a mutant, fuckin' thought they could cure this shit or some bullcrap like that..." He laughed humorlessly. "Damm bastards just handed him to those labs. Like he isn't their fucking son or something."
Hank was confused. They were talking about Alex's parents, right? So who was he talking about? "Who were they afraid you'd hurt?
Alex gave him a face. "Scott. They didn't know he was a mutant back then; no one knew. If I knew, I'd have taken him with me."
None of this made sense.
Why would Alex's parents be afraid he'd hurt Scott? And how did he even know him back then?
"Wait, then who did they give to the labs?"
Alex now looked like Hank had fallen from the sky. "Scott. They gave Scotty to the labs. Fucking bastards. I called and asked her if she knew where Scott was, figured that bitch deserves to know. After yelling at each other for an hour, she told me he was with 'people who could fix him.' Wasn't too hard to connect the dots from there."
"But you said they gave their s-"
Oh
oh.
Oh no.
Oh, fucking hell no.
So Scott is Alex's br-
It all made sense now.
It explained why Alex was so protective of him, why he slept by his bed, and carried him when needed. It explained why Scott trusted Alex immediately, why he clung to him like he was the only thing right in the world, and why he was able to sass him without a second thought. It explained all of Alex's whispers to an unconscious Scott about never leaving him again and about being sorry. It explained the broken mirror, the bloody knuckles, and the empty voice.
God, he can't even imagine what Alex was going through after seeing Scott so broken in that cell. He himself hadn't slept for a full night after that. Alex must have played the past year in his head over and over again...
Alex was watching him now, weirded out by the fact that Hank had stopped talking.
"Scott is your brother," said Hank.
Alex looked like he had lost all the patience he never had in the first place. "Yeah, no shit,"
Wait.
Charles, Charles knew this.
Holy shit, Alex thought Hank knew this. He should have. How didn't he notice? They looked so much alike now that he thought about it. So much. And they had the same sassy, annoying attitude.
"Look, I can't imagine how it must have been, finding all of this out-"
"Oh, come on, please don't tell me you get it. It's fine, we all have our fucked up stories. I don' need to cry like some pansy, ok?"
Hank smiled to himself, knowing Alex would be ok. "I was going to ask you if you want to grab a beer, actually," he raised his eyebrow. "It looked like you could use one."
"Or two," said Alex, standing up and extending his unharmed arm for Hank to pull himself up.
"Or two," agreed Hank, pulling himself to his feet and making a mental note to remind Alex to get his hand looked at.