Disclaimer: The following fiction is fan made and was inspired by the characters and story as developed by Marvel Comics. In no way do I own these characters nor their back stories.

Author's notes: The following is a one shot inspired by the autumn and pressure from friends to do a FF pairing my 2 fav characters. However, I'm afraid I've only seen the old animated series (not "X-men Evolutions") and the movies so bear with me. What you need to know, is that it takes place a year or so after Scott watches Jean "die" at Lake Alkali. (Though I've seen X3 I like to believe that that movie NEVER happened!). I don't remember what the lake was called in the movie so I'm going with that name from the comics for now.

Please also note that I've taken some artistic freedom and some of the flashbacks are my takes on certain general events in the series.

I don't know if I'll continue this thread or pairing in the future or not… But enjoy and please let me know what you think! I'm actually experimenting with a more descriptive but subtle style so reviews would really help.

Cold

Part 1: Lake Akali

(Several years ago…)

After quietly shutting and locking the bathroom door behind himself, Bobby Drake stripped his clothes off. The frigid air in the room caused his skin to prickle briefly. In a ritualistic fashion, he folded his garments and stacked them neatly along the window sill as the bathtub filled with scalding hot water. He wasn't sure, but despite the heat emanating from the radiator in the corner it seemed like the room had gotten significantly colder since he had entered.

Slowly, steam began to fog the windows and the mirrors of the cool tiled bathroom as the boy looked his reflection up and down, his eyes filling with water. Getting closer, he gripped the mirror only to realize that his slightest touch instantly turned the condensed droplets on it into a fine layer of frost. He only cried harder when he heard his tears shatter as tiny ice shards against the tiles beneath his feet.

The hot water in the tub immediately chilled as Bobby settled his shoulders beneath its surface. As he lay in the water, crystals of ice started to form in thin sheets at the corners of the tub.

"I don't want to be cold anymore…" were the only words that ran through Bobby's head as he pressed a razor into his shivering wrist over and over. Since the water was now cold, he had no choice but to keep cutting so that the blood would continue to flow. A slow, painful death this was going to be, indeed.

As the room began to fade a part of him thought he had never felt so cold before while the rest of him knew that the piercing coldness entering his body was little different from the lingering chills he had inside him since he was born.

"My entire life I've been cold," his mind whispered, "cold like a corpse…"

Suddenly, there came an explosion at the bathroom door. Later Bobby would learn that while he was losing consciousness his combat tactics and history teacher, Mr. Summers, had been banging his knuckles nearly bloody against it. However, finally after being met with nothing but silence, he had blown it clean off its hinges with an optic blast. In the years that followed, students could still make out the singe marks on the door frame leading to the east wing bathroom.

"Bobby? Bobby!" The only thing that the young man could remember was his teacher's warm arms around him, carrying him down the hall towards the infirmary; calling his name over and over again; his breath forming small puffs of steam in the frigid room; his gentle voice pleading to God that he was still alive. "Bobby!"

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"Bobby!" Professor Xavier's firm voice made the young man jump, returning his mind to the present, "You aren't quite listening to me, are you?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," he blinked, remembering that the professor had called him to his office after combat practice, "What were you saying about Mr. Summers, again?"

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A few days later, Bobby found himself walking up a snowy path towards an old cabin overlooking Lake Alkali. According to the town folk a Mr. Scott Summers had purchased it a few months ago.

The winter wind whistled as it swept across the gray lake and through the thick brush of the pine trees. Out of instinct and habit the young man shivered and pulled his wool coat more tightly around himself.

The cabin was the furthest from town and looked as if were the oldest and most forgotten. Its weathered, ash colored lumber made it almost disappear against the drab hue of the sunless sky.

Dry floor boards creaked underfoot and a simple wind chime that consisted of a solitary, clay bell pinged somberly as Bobby knocked on the wind battered door, "Mr. Summers?"

Shading his eyes with his hands he peered into one of the windows only to find that the cabin was completely dark inside. "Mr. Summers?" He called out again, pawing at the door a couple more times, "It's me, Bobby! The professor sent me!" The young man looked around. "Anyone home?" He trailed off.

At his final knock the old door finally gave way and fell open with a tiny creak. Bobby hesitated before entering, "Mr. Summers?"

Gently, he pushed the door open the rest of the way. His heart sank immediately as the mild light from the outside poured into the cabin, revealing its dilapidated interior.

There was no furniture of any kind save for two, overturned wooden chairs. Strewn about the floor were amber and clear glass bottles that smelled sourly of their previous contents, quickly consumed. Carefully stepping around the scattered bottles and glass shards, Bobby began to check the rooms, sadness mounting in his bosom as he progressed, "Anyone home?"

The cabinets of the kitchen in the far corner had all been flung open and contained nothing but a moldy loaf of bread and partially opened cans of food.

The condition of the upstairs bedroom was little different from the first floor. Kicking past more cans and bottles, Bobby touched the dusty mantle of the fireplace in the room before turning to look to the other side where the bed was supposed to be. In its stead lay a mass of restless sheets entangled in a heap of a sleeping bag and a dirty pillow.

Bobby began to wonder if anyone really was living here and even hoped that no one was. Yet his heart still ached, for deep down inside he knew his hope was wrong. Mr. Summers had been "living" here, this way, for quite some time now.

Eyes burning, the young man suddenly jet out onto the balcony. He bowed his head and leaned heavily on the wooden rail, breathing deeply until the bitter air of the place was cleared out of his lungs. Finally, he looked around at the grimly frosted trees and the rocky shoreline.

He finally settled his gaze on an empty boat dock not far off when he suddenly gasped. A lone man stood at the end of it, his feet lined up to the very edge. As if under a great amount of invisible weight, he stooped his shoulders and gazed infinitely into the choppy water below. Slowly, the man closed his eyes and brought his arms up, the frigid wind flapping into the wings formed by his open jacket.

"Mr. S--" Bobby's eyes widened as the figure began to fall forward, "Scott! Scott, no! Don't!"

In a flash, the young man leapt off the balcony, forming a spiral slide of ice to the ground as he went. "Scott," he shouted endlessly as he ran in between the trees, towards the dock, "Scott! Scott Summers!"

Just as he broke past the tree line, a crisp splash came to his ears. By the time he reached the dock, the cool, lake water had already started to lap calmly against it, again, like nothing had happened.

"Scott!" In one fluid motion, the young man threw off his heavy coat and dove into the icy water. It penetrated him to the bone, constricting around his chest and making his lungs stiff. Despite the numbing pain and fading light, he dove deeper, his hands reaching, searching infinitely.

Then as if by will or hope, Bobby felt his hand catch a limp wrist. Pulling the older man close, he spent the last of his energy creating a thick ice block beneath their feet. With incredible buoyant force, the ice and the two men popped to the serene surface of the lake and washed onto the shore.

"Come on. Come on, Scott," Bobby rubbed the older man's face, running his hand through Scott's thick, sopping wet hair, "Breathe!" Seeing no response he pressed his own shivering mouth over Scott's blue lips and began CPR, "Breathe!"

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(In the past…)

"Coming through! Move, people! Move!" The emergency room doors burst open as the gurney rattled down the hall.

"What do we got here?" Dr. Amelia Voght quickly snapped on her gloves and followed.

"Sixteen year old, male; possible runaway; severe lacerations to the eyes, hands, and wrists," the EMT spoke quickly, though out of breath.

"What's his name?" The doctor fastened on her disposable, yellow smock.

"Scott; name was written on the inside frame of the sunglasses we found near his body. Found him unconscious in an alley behind a bar off of route 23…never seen so much blood in my life."

"My god," Amelia gasped at the sight of the mutilated boy being lifted to the operating table. His fingers were caked in thick crimson. She then turned to the scrambling staff in the room, "Get me several pints of O, STAT!" She turned back to the boy, "Scott? Can you hear me?"

"Doc," the EMT stopped Dr. Voght in mid stride towards the operating table, "There's something else you need to know about that kid…" he swallowed, a fearful look washing over his face before continuing, "he's not normal, Doc. The razors we saw on the ground around him, hundreds of them… in pieces. His eyes, Doc…his eyes are—"

"Doctor!" A nurse shouted as the shrill whine of the heart monitor could be heard over the tumult, "He's crashing!"

"Damn," pulling away from the EMT she raced to the tableside, "I need 5cc's of epi!" Working fast, she administered the injection into the young man's arm and began to rub conductive gel in between the paddles of the defibrillator, "Charging! Clear!"

The kid's body jerked and contracted with each electric shock.

"Clear!"

At the very moment the young man fell back against the table, his eyes flickered open. Suddenly, the room was bathed in an intense, red light. The entire room shook heavily.

"Scott!" Amelia screamed, partly out of concern but mostly out of fear of the boy.

Instantly, everyone hit the floor, trying to shield themselves from the large debris raining down on them.

"Scott!"

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"Breathe!"

Bobby's heart skipped a beat when Scott finally coughed. Gasping, the young man collapsed onto the gravelly bank next to his teacher. Exhausted, they both lay there for a bit, their deep sighs pushing gaseous puffs of steam into the cool, evening air.

Additional notes: Please continue to part 2! Though this is a one shot for now I thought I'd split it up to make it easier to read. Guess it's a ficlet then huh?