Chapter Text
A long time ago
Fire. The scent of burning was the first clue for the upcoming catastrophe. He caught a glance of his father's calm, steady expression and took a deep breath to calm himself too. It would be alright. His father would handle it like he always did. Christopher Summers was the best pilot in the world after all. If they weren't safe with him they weren't safe anywhere. Even after he noticed the smoke coming from the engines through the window, he clung to the idea that his father would save them. Alex tried to be positive and brave, keeping every feeling of worry and fear from being shown on his face. Scott was huddled up next to him with his head buried in Alex's jacket. His little brother would always press himself to Alex when he was scared.
Scott's little body snuggled even further to his, as another lightning bolt split the dark blue sky in two, followed by loud thunder. 'Be brave', Alex mentally told himself. He had to be strong for both of them. His brother was looking up to him; if he panicked, he would too. Their mother exited the pilot cabin and approached them slowly, careful not to fall down from the continuous trembling of the plane.
"Everything is going to be alright," She crouched in front of them, smiling with one of those soft, caring smiles that made her eyes glow. Katherine stroked Scott's hair and looked up at Alex, her expression full with pure love for her sons. Just for a second, in his mother's ocean blue eyes a shadow of sadness passed and a lump stuck in his throat, stopping the flow of words he wanted so desperately to say. This couldn't mean anything good - she had the expression when she wanted to cry, but suppressed it.
'It would be okay, it would be okay.' The sentence was repeating itself like a mantra in his mind, helping him hold up the mask of bravery he had put on. Underneath it, Alex was terrified and he hated how helpless he felt at the moment. The kid continued to think of a way to help, but nothing came to his mind and he could only stare at his mother, frozen on his seat next to Scott. As the sentence was on its way to be repeated for the tenth time, he heard his father's stern, authoritative voice, coming from the pilot's cabin, "Kat, get the kids into their 'chutes!" He left no room for argument.
Shivers were sent down his spine and he straightened his back fearing the worst, but hoping that the bad feeling in his gut was for nothing. He desperately hoped it was because of the fear and shock. His heart clenched in his chest as if someone had grabbed it and sank their claws deep, piercing right through it.
His mother, quickly with graceful and careful moves brought the last two parachutes and set them down, crouching in front of the boys again. She gave one to Alex and looked at him with pleading eyes as she said, "Put it on." Katherine hoped her son would understand and co-operate. Her heart was breaking at the thought that this would be the last time she would see her babies. In the meantime, Scott lifted his head and looked at his mother, tears flowing free down his cheeks like rivers. "Mommy," The six-year-old croaked out, chocking at his own words. When he couldn't say anything else, the little Summers broke into sobs, as his body started to uncontrollably shake.
"What about you?" Alex asked, wrapping his arms around his little brother to calm him down, tears filling up in his eyes as well. This couldn't mean anything good. His mother adopted the same sad expression, but a minute later it was gone, replaced by a weak smile.
"I and your dad are going to be okay," She assured him, putting her warm hand on his shoulder. With her other arm, she cupped Scott's cheek and her younger son looked up at her, another sob dying in his throat. "Everything is going to be fine," She repeated softly.
Alex didn't believe her, even if he wanted it so desperately. There were only two parachutes in front of him. He was only nine years old, but he could sum up two and two pretty fast. Some of the tears that had welled up in his eyes spilled, flowing like streams down his young face. That wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Would they really leave them all alone?
"Mom," He choked out, his voice thick with emotion.
"You have to be strong, Alex. Scott needs you," Katherine stroked his hair with her gentle hand and kissed him on the forehead. For a few moments, she rested her lips against his warm skin and took a shaky breath. "Be strong."
"Katherine!" The voice of Christopher snapped her back to reality and she looked at her sons once again, studying their features and eyes, remembering every detail of their young faces before she grabbed one of the parachutes and handed it to Alex.
"Put it on fast," she repeated, this time more insisting, and moved to help Scott put on his own parachute before Alex could have the time to protest.
This time the scent of fire was accompanied by thick black smoke, which sucked in the passenger sector of the plane. Katherine was sure that the actual flames were close behind and started strapping the parachute even faster to Scott's back.
Alex put on his own and strapped it tightly. At nine, he could do that even in his sleep. His moves were instinctive, as he couldn't comprehend that this wasn't some bad dream. It was reality, but the child still held the hope that their parents would save themselves somehow. Soon, wild orange flames spread forward consuming everything standing on their way. The smoke increased and it soon became hard to breathe.
Katherine walked over to the big metal door and pulled the lever. She slid it open and moved to the left before she could fly off the plain due to the pull of the wind. This was the last time she would ever see them, hug them, comfort them. The realization sank in and she could feel her heart breaking in half. The woman regained her composure. She didn't want her sons' last memory of her to be one of sadness. Instead, she smiled lovingly. "Take care of each other. We love you both very much. We are so proud of you. Never forget that."
As his mother tried to let go of them Scott desperately clung to her, weeping even harder. Alex wanted to tell him that it would be okay, but he couldn't, as he himself had no idea if anything would ever be alright again.
"Scott, please, just go with your brother," she said and kissed his head as one last goodbye.
Alex wanted to tell his mother that it shouldn't be this way. That they can all jump together. The young boy searched for her face, but the words died in his throat before he could say them. His young mind couldn't accept that this was inevitable. Instead, he took his brother's hand and gently pulled him towards the door. At first, Scott struggled, but eventually stopped, too devastated to continue, too weak, and just silently cried.
As he reached the big hole, his chest tightened even more and he turned back, glancing at his mother again, his eyes full of fear. She nodded firmly and mouthed 'You can do it' to him.
'One'
"We love you both," he said, his voice at the edge of breaking. The young boy faced the view in front of him once again and took a shaky breath, preparing for the jump.
'Two'
Another lighting bolt shook the plain and Alex stumbled, but kept himself from falling, still holding Scott's hand in his own.
'Three'
He squeezes it gently, to support himself and to show his brother he is there for him. Scott looked up with red puffy eyes and Alex gave him a weak smile, which the younger brother couldn't bring himself to return.
'Four'
Alex turned his head back and quickly looked at his father in the pilot's cabin. Christopher nodded at him, catching his son's eyes in the review mirror. He took another deep breath and closed his eyes, picturing the faces of his parents. It was now or never.
'Five'
The boys jumped and Alex felt his body being pulled further down by the gravitation. He held Scott tightly in his arms as they flew down.
'Then you wait thirty seconds before you pull the string, which would open Scott's parachute.'
"I love you," he pulled the string and let go of his brother. When his parachute opened, Alex sighed with relief. He briefly closed his eyes, burying down all pain. As he opened them again, he reached for the string and pulled it. He felt himself slowing down and looked up at the opened parachute. At the distance, on the plane window, he saw his mother waving her hand. It was like she did every day when she sent him to school.
Seconds later, a loud explosion was heard and Alex's eyes watered up once again as he watched the plain perish, alongside the waving image of his mother. Only aflame debris was left of the once big machine, falling down in all directions. He looked down again, closing his eyes. It was all too much.
The last thing he remembered was a cry of horror and a pair of frightened light blue eyes.
"ALEX!"
For a millisecond his head turned to Scott, his blue eyes locking with his. He couldn't even look up to see that his parachute had caught on fire. The boy started falling with incredible speed, his mind clouded from fear and soon... it all became dark.
He opened his eyes, looking at the ceiling, which was covered in white tiles and had square lamps attached to it. The light was so bright that he had to narrow his eyes against it. What was this place? Next, the quiet beeping of a heart rate monitor filled the room. One by one his senses were returning and he became awfully aware of everything. Where was he? Where were his parents? Where was Scott?
Alex unwrapped himself and kicked the blanket away. He brought his body into a sitting position and pushed his feet out of the bed to the left. The boy attempted to get up, but the machines he was hooked up to were limiting his movement. Without a second thought, he pulled the needles out of his skin and pushed himself out of the bed. As his feet touched the ground, his legs gave in and Alex fell to his knees unable to get up again, even after several more tries.
The door opened with a creaking noise. A doctor with a long white lab coat entered, accompanied by a young brunette nurse, who was holding a clipboard in her hands.
"Where is the kid!?" The doctor exclaimed, afraid that the boy may have hurt himself by trying to walk around the facility.
The nurse went around the bed as she had heard the heavy breathing coming from behind it and saw Alex on the ground. "He is here," she looked back at the doctor and then back at the child. "It is okay sweetheart," she said softly, with a warm smile, and took a step forward with the intent to help him to his feet.
Alex quickly moved away, which left the nurse standing with an extended hand in front of him. Confusion and hurt were evident on her face, but she remained calm. The kid had just woken up from the coma after all. She couldn't blame him for his reactions.
"Where is my family?" Alex asked, looking the nurse in the eyes.
The doctor cleared his throat and stepped in for the nurse's relief. The worst part of the job in the hospital was the breaking of bad news. "Young man, my name is Doctor Stewart. I promise everything will be alright, but first things first, we will have to make a quick examination," the doctor explained and moved in to help Alex to his feet. The boy tried to avoid being touched again, but Stewart eventually lifted him up and helped him sit on the bed.
"I want to know where my family is," Alex repeated and brushed the doctor's hand, which had remained on his shoulder, off. He could hear the course of his own voice as if he had eaten sand.
The older man cleared his throat again and sighed deeply.
Alex felt his stomach turning upside down from the tension. What was going on? Why couldn't he remember anything? The whole situation was far too stressful for a nine-year-old child. His memory was hazy and he found himself trying to recall the recent events, without much success. The thoughts in his head were swirling in his head hysterically. The boy's light blue eyes didn't leave the doctor's, waiting for him to speak. A feeling of frustration started to build up when the man didn't answer.
The doctor opened his mouth and finally spoke, "There was a plane crash. I am afraid you are the only survivor, son."
For a minute Alex stared into the doctor's eyes, the words slowly sinking in, piercing his heart. The boy found himself unable to move or speak. He just continued to stare ahead until he fully realized the weight of the doctor's words. The world started to spin and his eyes watered. He had to leave, he had to search for his family. They couldn't be dead. This was all a lie. It had to be. The world finally crashed down on him with all its sound and color. Alex jumped on the floor again, with frantic, unconscious moves. He proceeded to run to the door but was stopped by the two adults, who tried to put him back on the bed. In his delirium, he could badly hurt himself. Their grip on him was strong, but Alex struggled against the two adults, effortlessly.
"Let me go! You are lying, they are alive," Alex shouted and the nurse stumbled back from the shock, loosening her hold on him. On the other hand, the doctor, who had witnessed familiar reactions far too many times, kept the boy steady.
However, even he wasn't expecting the kick that followed the scream. It was surprisingly strong for a kid his age and the man gritted his teeth. Alex kept kicking and pushing and eventually the doctor let go, grunting from the pain.
Alex started to run towards the door, but halfway his knees were in again and he fell down. A lump formed in his throat and a new set of tears, he didn't know he has, spilled from his eyes. Even his little brother was gone. He was supposed to look after him, to protect him and he had failed. In his own eyes, Alex was nothing more than a failure, a disappointment.
"They... can't be gone," he whispered with a broken voice between the sobs, barely able to take a breath.
Still down on the floor, he buried his head in his hands and wept for his lost family, feeling great pain in his chest. Pain that the young boy knew would stay with him forever.
At the age of nine, Alex Summers lost his family.
'Alex, could you come downstairs please,' Professor Charles Xavier telepathically contacted his student.
'Be there in a moment,' Alex's thought reached the older man almost immediately. He rarely liked when Charles hung out in his mind too much.
"He will be here soon," The Professor turned to the little brunette boy, sitting on the couch.
"I think you are mistaken," the boy shook his head, keeping the building-up tears at bay. "My brother is dead,"
"Trust me," Charles simply said and wheeled closer to the coach. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder and the child looked up. "I will make this right." Just a day ago, Charles left to recruit a new student for the school. A boy in Ohio had destroyed the Omaha Meadows Orphanage with only one look. The authorities had locked him up and considered juvenile detention, being unable to understand what was going on. Charles had interfered and offered another suggestion - his school for gifted children. They were happy to give him over. His powers were unstable - on and off for now, but Charles had put a mental alarm bell between him and Scott (with permission, of course) for when another manifestation approached. Still, Scott wished to stay with a blindfold for the entire ride back home - he was scared and Charles couldn't blame him.
Alex came down the stairs, practically jumping over the last three. He grinned at the Professor, who shook his head. How many times he had to tell him to be more careful?
"And this is," Alex nodded toward the kid.
Charles cleared his throat and spoke slowly. "Alex, I want you to meet your brother... Scott."
For a moment, Alex stayed completely still and his eyes slowly widened, as the words sank in. Old pain resurfaced, as well as anger and he narrowed his eyes at Charles, ignoring the kid.
"Is this so kind of joke, a test?" He asked, bitter evident in his tone. For a moment he would believe that Charles could do something like that: the only explanation for that brunette boy in the living room.
Scott found the teen familiar. His features, those light blue eyes. An image of a young, blond boy, dropping fast toward the ground flashed in his mind.
"Alex, I would never–" Charles began to talk but was cut out by a young voice.
"Alex?" The boy croaked in disbelief. His brother looked the same as he did six years earlier just a little older.
Said mutant moved his gaze from the older man to the boy and his face immediately softened, all anger disappearing. All of a sudden, the ground seemed to swept under his feet as forgotten memories found their way to the front of his mind. Alex blinked a couple of times trying to push away tears. The teen grabbed the left arm of the couch to support himself as he still felt dizzy.
"Scotty," He whispered in shock, just as loud as it needed to be heard.
"You died," Scott looked his brother in the eyes.
"You too," the doctor had told him he was the only survivor. He couldn't have lied. Right? Without a second thought, Alex broke the distance between them and wrapped his hands around Scott in a hug. At this moment, it didn't matter how this was possible. His younger brother was living and breathing and was right in front of him. Alex had to make sure it was real, that it wasn't an illusion.
Scott wrapped his hands around Alex and buried his face in his older brother's neck.
"I thought I had lost you," Alex whispered, his voice cracking.
"Me too," his brother said, tears spilling out of his eyes. "Please, don't leave me again," he sobbed, not caring that he sounded like a weak little kid.
"I would never lose you again Scott, I promise," Alex softly said and stroked his brother's hair. They were together again. Everything was going to be okay as he had promised years ago. He was given a second chance to take care of his brother. Alex couldn't fail again, he wouldn't fail again.
Present Day
Throughout the years, Alex Summers has been many things. A brother, a friend, a soldier, a leader, an X-man, but it didn't matter anymore. He opened his light blue eyes meeting the view of a busy day in the city of Atlanta. The sun drowned everything in its bright light, forcing the people on the streets to wear sunglasses or hats to hide from its rays. The sidewalk was crowded with people, attending their own business. Some were hurrying to work, some to meet with friends, and so on. The traffic was busy today too and Alex leaned his head against the cold glass of the window, knowing he would stay in there for a while. Eighteen years had passed since the X-men were formed to protect the innocent, mutants and humans alike; to set an example for young mutants, and to show society that they had nothing to fear.
Anyway, the discrimination and hatred against mutants only grew during this time. It had reached the limit on 15th July when a peaceful, at first, mutant protest took a deadly turn. The X-men had found themselves in the center of a battlefield, desperately trying to stop the fighting on both sides. Unfortunately, no one wanted to listen. The consequences were catastrophic. They were casualties for mutants and humans alike. Now, four years later, the situation had only gotten worse. Sentinel Services were merciless, arresting mutants for unwarranted reasons. They had to hide and be constantly on edge, especially the ones with physical mutations. There was no place for them in society. Of course, some, including Alex himself, could pass for humans and live normal lives. However, he couldn't do it. The thought of giving up the fight and living an everyday life was eating him up from the inside. The dream of peaceful coexistence had to live on. Alex wanted to make sure that the legacy of the X-men was in good hands.
"The police informed us that the perpetrators of the National Bank robbery were caught earlier today. The act was committed yesterday night by a group of mutants. The criminals were arrested and taken in custody, charged with murder and robbery. Stay tuned for the news in seven for more information."
Alex didn't even realize that the radio was on until now, zoning in and out. "Muties, huh? If you ask me they do more harm than good. Glad the government finally put them in their place," the driver said, probably in an attempt to start a conversation.
'Too bad no one asked you,' Alex thought venomously. He clenched his fists but quickly unclenched them. Punching him wouldn't be a solution... or would it? He shook his head and looked out of the window again. If he was still a teenager he probably would have done something he was going to regret due to one comment. However, Alex had matured over the years, even if he was still getting the impulse to just hit someone and call it a day. At least now he knew some things couldn't be fixed with punches.
"Some are good and some are bad," he said in a calm voice, feigning indifference to the subject, while suppressing his upcoming frustration.
"And are like walking ticking time bombs," The driver retorted with an argument on his own.
Alex turned his head away from the window and looked at the review mirror, catching the driver's gaze. The mutant narrowed his eyes. "They are human beings just like you and me. They have the right to exist and most want to be left alone." We. The word tiptoed on the edge of his tongue and practically begged to be said. We have the right to exist. We want to be left alone. He was so fucking tired of repeating that narrative.
"That doesn't make them less dangerous. Human safety is first priority," the driver kept his eyes on the road, somehow not noticing that his passenger didn't really want to continue the topic.
"It is the same for the mutants. Family and safety come first for everyone." Alex replied, a tiny muscle twitching in his jaw as he did. Why he continued talking was a mystery even to him. He had heard these words thousands of times before from different mouths. It was like the racist jerks couldn't think of anything else than those repetitive arguments. It was hard to suppress the urge to roll his eyes.
"What are you? Some kind of mutie lover or something?" the driver asked in a tight voice, staring right at the review mirrors and so in Alex's eyes. He skimmed over the most obvious reason why the passenger in the back seat would defend mutants so fiercely. The tone of the conversation suddenly turned more offensive as the man ran out of things to say.
This guy just kept pushing his buttons all over the place. Taking a deep breath and returning the gaze with his head high, Alex decided he was tired of this and felt like messing with him instead, at least getting some reactions out of the day. "No...," he paused suspensefully, "I am a mutant." In a few seconds, the driver's expression turned from a neutral one to one of fear. he was speechless. Alex craned his neck between the two front seats just to annoy him a little more, pointing to the next alley. "You can pull over there." The man with reluctance who was admirably slow, did just that. As the car pulled out of traffic to stop, he opened the door and stepped out, holding onto it for a bit longer. "As you can see I didn't transfer you a deadly disease, so you can relax a bit. Keep that mouth of yours in check though. Not everyone is as nice as I am. There are people and people."
"Get away!" the man raised his tone, finally finding his voice.
"Thanks for the free ride," Alex shook his head, the corners of his lips turned into a cocky smile, as he was walking away from the taxi with a bag over his shoulder. At some point, the comments stopped bothering him as much. Announcing his genetic status was a bit reckless on his part, but it wasn't like a taxi driver could do anything with that information. Even if he called the police, all he had was a description and no name. He would be gone before anything had taken place. Or maybe his interaction with a mutant that didn't try to blow him up, which seemed to be what his perception of mutant contained, changed his opinion of them and he was now a sworn ally. The thought almost made him laugh in the middle of the street. Charles was the one who had always kept hoping for such things. Fairly enough, sometimes it worked. In Alex's eyes, some people just weren't capable of change.
Once, he believed that humans had started to accept them and some even did. Others especially those in power just pretended, waited, and played their roles with ease, as long as it suited them. July the 15th was the day all curtains were dropped. Every politician, who had stayed silent on the mutant matter or was publicly against them, had emerged with their ideas on how to contain 'the dangerous abominations' at once. More hate groups were formed, sharing the gig with the Purifiers. In this period of time, all he felt was anger, but he was helpless against the whole government. The X-men had found themselves in a tough situation. Even after they had disbanded, the dream remained. Like a little flicker of light in the dark of a long tunnel. It brought hope for a better future. One day, maybe everyone could live in peace. All of this, Charles's teachings, left a bitter taste in Alex's mouth. Haven't they tried to achieve that same thing for eighteen years? How many more had to die, before there was peace?
However, only time could answer his questions. Alex was in Atlanta with a purpose and there was still so much to do. He had to continue to fight for the Professor's dream; the only thing he had known his whole adult life, the only thing that could help him stay sane. He reached for the pocket of his jacket and took a white, scrubby piece of paper, a phone number written on it with black ink. Good thing Evangeline Whedon owed him a favor. From her words, the Atlanta cell was the nearest functioning part of the Underground. As he continued to walk on the cement sidewalk, his expression hardened from sheer determination. That wasn't the face of a man, who was going to fail. There was too much at stake, too much work, and a path filled with struggles. Good, bring them. He was ready.
'I am coming for you too Rachel.'