Fic: Five Ways Alex Didn't Find Scott (And the Time He Did) 5/6jemisardJune 14 2011, 06:23:38 UTC
Charles thrashed in Cerebro, eyes wide and unseeing and gasping slightly as he tried to focus, to hunt and search.
Alex stood nearby, watching the details rattling out of Hank’s computer. Hank’s fingers flew over the keyboard, agile despite their size, translating numbers into English, into words and descriptions.
“There,” Charles breathed out. “I can see him.”
The next number that came out meant nothing to Alex, but he knew what it meant. It meant that that was where his brother was, alive and hopefully well.
The second number that followed it made him frown. “What’s that?”
“Company,” Hank murmured. “Another mutant.”
“A mutant I’ve met,” Charles said, pulling the helmet from his head. “We’ll go together and hope he doesn’t hold grudges.”
Alex vaguely wish he did hold grudges, because right now, held against a wall by long metal knives protruding from the guy’s hand either side of his throat, a grudge would mean some familiarity.
“Please, my young companion doesn’t mean anyone any harm. You’re alarming him,” Charles said quietly.
“I’m alarmin’ him?” The man growled and pushed closer, a third knife starting to slide from between his knuckles, towards Alex’s neck.
“Logan!”
“Stay back, kid,” Logan growled, but Alex’s gaze slid to behind his attacker to the young man who stood there, face distorted with red crystal embedded into his face over his eyes, old scarring holding it in place, casting an ugly red glow over his face.
And Alex knew. He reached out a hand, trying to call the energy forth and hating that he was too damn scared that he was about to die on those claws. “Scott. It’s me.”
“Logan, stop,” Scott gasped. “Say your name. Tell me.”
He inhaled. “Alex. Alex Summers.”
The claws vanished immediately, the man, Logan, stepping back and looking back at Scott with a frown. Scott came forwards, not too close, hands on Logan’s hip and shoulder, familiar and intimate and holding him back.
Alex felt nauseous and he couldn’t quite pin what was worse, the scarring or the unspoken relationship between the two of them, this old, grizzled savage and his fragile looking brother.
Alex. We fight bigotry in all forms.
He tried not to growl at Charles reminder and instead stood straight. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said calmly. “Looking everywhere. Charles helped me to find you.”
Scott stepped forwards, brushing off the hand that tried to hold him back. “You’re... like us? A freak?”
“We’re not freaks!”
Scott’s hand slammed against Logan’s chest. “No. Don’t. He’s my brother.”
“We’re not freaks,” Alex pushed. “We’re mutants. Charles reads minds. I can make plasma from sunlight. Charles has a place, where we can live and train safely. Without people coming for us.”
“Bit late for that,” Logan growled. “You think those plates of crystal found their own way into his face?”
“Logan, don’t.” He caught Logan’s hand and held onto it, fingers stroking between his knuckles. “It’s not their fault. They didn’t do this to us.” He looked back at them. “And you’re offering to take us both in?”
Alex heard the condition. If they were inviting Scott, they were inviting Logan. Both or neither.
“Yes,” Charles said. “We’d be honoured to have you both living with us, helping to teach and learn.”
Scott’s face turned and Alex could see where he looked by the shift of the glowing points behind the glass like substance. Logan looked back at him, murmuring something in French.
Scott nodded and turned back to them. “Give us ten minutes to pack.”
Charles touched Alex’s elbow, maneuvering himself outside.
Alex followed him, sitting down on the woodpile outside the door. He’s... never going to be my brother first, is he?
We don’t know that, Charles replied. Which was all the lack of denial that Alex needed.
Alex stood nearby, watching the details rattling out of Hank’s computer. Hank’s fingers flew over the keyboard, agile despite their size, translating numbers into English, into words and descriptions.
“There,” Charles breathed out. “I can see him.”
The next number that came out meant nothing to Alex, but he knew what it meant. It meant that that was where his brother was, alive and hopefully well.
The second number that followed it made him frown. “What’s that?”
“Company,” Hank murmured. “Another mutant.”
“A mutant I’ve met,” Charles said, pulling the helmet from his head. “We’ll go together and hope he doesn’t hold grudges.”
Alex vaguely wish he did hold grudges, because right now, held against a wall by long metal knives protruding from the guy’s hand either side of his throat, a grudge would mean some familiarity.
“Please, my young companion doesn’t mean anyone any harm. You’re alarming him,” Charles said quietly.
“I’m alarmin’ him?” The man growled and pushed closer, a third knife starting to slide from between his knuckles, towards Alex’s neck.
“Logan!”
“Stay back, kid,” Logan growled, but Alex’s gaze slid to behind his attacker to the young man who stood there, face distorted with red crystal embedded into his face over his eyes, old scarring holding it in place, casting an ugly red glow over his face.
And Alex knew. He reached out a hand, trying to call the energy forth and hating that he was too damn scared that he was about to die on those claws. “Scott. It’s me.”
“Logan, stop,” Scott gasped. “Say your name. Tell me.”
He inhaled. “Alex. Alex Summers.”
The claws vanished immediately, the man, Logan, stepping back and looking back at Scott with a frown. Scott came forwards, not too close, hands on Logan’s hip and shoulder, familiar and intimate and holding him back.
Alex felt nauseous and he couldn’t quite pin what was worse, the scarring or the unspoken relationship between the two of them, this old, grizzled savage and his fragile looking brother.
Alex. We fight bigotry in all forms.
He tried not to growl at Charles reminder and instead stood straight. “I’ve been looking for you,” he said calmly. “Looking everywhere. Charles helped me to find you.”
Scott stepped forwards, brushing off the hand that tried to hold him back. “You’re... like us? A freak?”
“We’re not freaks!”
Scott’s hand slammed against Logan’s chest. “No. Don’t. He’s my brother.”
“We’re not freaks,” Alex pushed. “We’re mutants. Charles reads minds. I can make plasma from sunlight. Charles has a place, where we can live and train safely. Without people coming for us.”
“Bit late for that,” Logan growled. “You think those plates of crystal found their own way into his face?”
“Logan, don’t.” He caught Logan’s hand and held onto it, fingers stroking between his knuckles. “It’s not their fault. They didn’t do this to us.” He looked back at them. “And you’re offering to take us both in?”
Alex heard the condition. If they were inviting Scott, they were inviting Logan. Both or neither.
“Yes,” Charles said. “We’d be honoured to have you both living with us, helping to teach and learn.”
Scott’s face turned and Alex could see where he looked by the shift of the glowing points behind the glass like substance. Logan looked back at him, murmuring something in French.
Scott nodded and turned back to them. “Give us ten minutes to pack.”
Charles touched Alex’s elbow, maneuvering himself outside.
Alex followed him, sitting down on the woodpile outside the door. He’s... never going to be my brother first, is he?
We don’t know that, Charles replied. Which was all the lack of denial that Alex needed.
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