April 2012

She had fallen asleep, several beer bottles—all sealed—rolling around the floor at the foot of the couch on which she lay. She exuded a low hum, not quite a snore, with every exhalation, the same sound Alex had fallen asleep to many years ago, only then it did not come from his young friend but rather the girl's father—an old lover who'd shared his bed long before.

Theresa had worn the same expression as her father had upon falling from flight, the shock turned to anger turned to fear, then finally, submission. Red tresses clashed garishly with the shreds of torn yellow glider-wings. As the ground grew closer, they both closed their mouths and eyes, as if to accept the inevitable.

But to Alex, there was a glaring difference between the two. After all, when Theresa Cassidy had fallen from the tower at Ulster, Alex had caught her and brought her back to the X-Factor's facilities intact. The same could not be said for the girl's father. The first time Sean Cassidy hit the ground, the sand of the beach on which he'd landed cushioned his fall, leaving only a few cuts and bruises at the very worst. Sean was hardly Alex's primary concern, given the gravity of their mission, and a simple confirmation that they were both in fact alive seemed more than enough. Decades later, neither Alex nor Sean had proved so lucky.

Alex refused to close his eyes as he watched Theresa sleep. Even a blink could make the nightmares come again. Why did she have to look so much like Sean had in his final moments, the shredded glider wings, the clotted blood around her nose, the skin around her eyes dark and contorted, having been pushed back by the air that rushed around her as she'd fallen? Mercifully, the true signs of Sean's violent death—the burning and blistered skin, the crooked limbs and oddly loosened neck—were not apparent in Theresa's peacefully sleeping visage. Nevertheless, Alex couldn't help but put them there whenever he closed his eyes.

Why were all of Alex's memories—good and bad—tarnished by the final moments of Sean's life? They'd both been so young when their relationship had blossomed into something beyond, or perhaps just short of platonic. They'd both moved on, had prominent relationships with women—Alex had found Lorna and Sean had married Maeve, then Moira. Sometimes Alex wondered if what they had was little more than an illusion. All that had changed in the final weeks of Sean's life, of course, not that either of them had known until it was too late. It was just a phone call, nothing more or less, but it took on greater significance later on; greater than Alex could possibly have realized at the time.

"Muir Isle, huh? Remember when Scott and I used to stay over on weekends? I'm sure we drove you and Moira bonkers."

"You know I never minded, Alex. Hell, the place got lonely without you two. Just make sure Scott behaves himself next week okay? No more setting off stink bombs in the science lab and the like,"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You didn't hear? I'm coming back to New York. I've got a message for the X-Men. You'll be wanting to see it, I reckon. You and Scott both…"

"Are you going to stay this time?"

"That'd be Scott's business seeing as he owns the place now...but if there's room, I'd like to. I'd like to see you again, Alex. If I thought Muir Isle was lonely for a married man, it's an absolute hell for a widower."

Alex would never have guessed how much would be destroyed in the weeks following that conversation. His relationship with his beloved brother Scott, Charles Xavier's dream, even the very reality that Alex had accepted as his own; in that context, Sean's death seemed almost minimal. Almost.

It always gets you when you least expect it, doesn't it, boyo?

Alex shook his head violently, tearing his head away from Theresa. Dwelling on the past, on Sean, had more unforeseen consequences than Alex had expected. Hearing voices? Wasn't that Emma Frost's territory? Besides, Sean was dead. The dead could not talk. That blur of green and red in the mirror across the room must have been Theresa stirring in her sleep. It couldn't have been…Alex clenched his teeth and promptly left the room. This was all too much for him to handle and it was about time he realized it.

December 1963

It was far too cold to go outside, too cold even for snow, but the mansion of Professor Charles Xavier was pleasantly warm and inviting. Little Jean had insisted on making Christmas cookies with Hank and the smell of caramelized sugar wafted through the hallways. The menorah that Charles had bought while Erik was still living with him was fully lit, the candles sparkling as they reflected off the window glass.

"You're sure it isn't a sin or anything, right?" Sean's voice was quiet and tentative, almost fearful as he asked the question for what seemed like the hundredth time, "nobody ever talked about it back home. They just assumed I'd marry a girl and…"

Alex laid a finger against Sean's lips, "we're not hurting anyone, Sean. This isn't even about them. This is about us."

"Mutants can't afford to be selfish, Alex," Sean replied, pulling away, "we have these abilities for a reason. We have to help people, not give into temptation that might distract us from our duties."

"How can you say that after two human armies tried to kill us? How can you say that when Charles tried to help everyone at once and lost his legs in the process?" They'd been over this at least a thousand times. Sean's unrelenting faith in humanity baffled Alex to no end. Before the events of Cuba, Alex would have blamed Sean's sheltered upbringing, the fact that Sean passed for homo –sapien, a privilege that many mutants could not share, anything really. But now, even after he'd seen what the world had to offer, Sean remained blissfully—infuriatingly—naïve. Despite his irritation, Alex found it to be one of Sean's more endearing qualities.

"I can't save the world, Sean," Alex continued, "and I'm not going to try. I don't owe those humans anything. If I can make you happy, that's enough for me."

Alex felt his cheeks grow hot as a smile played about Sean's lips. They had both resisted their feelings for each other for far too long. Alex thought they might never have acted on them at all if not for the fact that they lived under the roof of now not one, but two telepaths. As Charles had put it, the energy between the two of them was palpable. Jean, still a child compared to the rest of her teammates, was far less subtle.

"Hot chocolate!" Jean cut in, as if on cue. She skipped into the living room gleefully, a tray of festive Christmas mugs floating in thin air behind her, "cookies will be ready soon! Aaah, you guys are so cute! You know, Scott likes me! I saw it in his brain. Can you convince him to just ask me out already? I want to go on double-dates!"

"Careful there lass, you'll give us all second degree burns!" Sean laughed, taking the tray and placing it on the coffee table, "as for double dating…"

"Yeah, I know, you're scared," Jean interrupted, "it can be scary being different. It's scary being a mutant too. But maybe just maybe…" Jean's eyes flashed a deep shade of red and the veins in her temple grew more prominent against her skin as she gave Alex a wink, "it's okay to leave your comfort zone. Okay to risk getting burned if you get something sweet in return…anyway I'll leave you lovebirds alone. Time to put frosting the cookies!" Jean smiled and returned to normal, flouncing away and humming Christmas Carrols to herself.

"Am I the only one who gets creeped out when she does that?" Sean asked, taking a sip of hot chocolate.

"I dunno," Alex replied, "sometimes I think we'd all benefit from a little Phoenix Force in our lives," he gave Sean a peck on the forehead and reached for his own mug of hot chocolate, "especially you, ya little altar boy."

"And a happy Christmas to you too, a ghra mo chroi," Sean replied returning Alex's kiss. The taste of hot chocolate lingered on Alex's tongue for the rest of the night.

April 2012

"You asshole! How could you let her go?!" Monet St. Croix was furious, her jaw and fists clenched tight enough to draw blood, "she was hurt! Clearly in no condition to fight! And you just sent her to her death just like that! How dare you, Havok! You of all people should understand…'

Alex shuddered. He knew the look in Monet's eyes, the anger she radiated like burning coals. He'd felt that very same anger towards Charles Xavier when…when everything had fallen apart. He couldn't say anything to console her. He couldn't tell her the truth; that it was Layla, not him, who had sent Theresa into battle just two days after the events of Ulster, but that he wouldn't have tried to stop it if he could when he'd found out just what had happened. Luckily, he didn't need to.

"If you're going to be angry, it should be at me, Monet." Layla stood in the doorway, arms crossed tightly and eyes bloodshot and swollen, "I didn't think she wouldn't come back…she was going to go anyway, but I thought maybe I could protect her. Besides, who was I to keep her from her father?"

"Sean?!" Monet spat, "Layla, Sean's dead!" Alex swallowed hard at this. It never got easier to hear.

"He's not dead, Monet." Layla's voice was quiet but surprisingly forceful, "he isn't exactly alive either, but he's here, walking this earth, and Theresa went to find him. But that's all I know for sure. I know stuff, but I don't know everything. Alex tried to cover for me because…well let's just say he has something of a personal investment in the situation and leave it at that."

Monet sighed and unclenched her fists, "I'll deal with you later," she muttered, stomping away.

Alex was relieved that Layla had decided to keep his secrets. He hadn't felt this conflicted in years. Lorna needed him more than ever now, but ever since Ulster, Alex couldn't get Sean out of his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes, he felt Sean's presence all around him, that heavy rattled breathing filling his ears. Had it been thirty years ago, perhaps Alex might have found it pleasant but now, with Lorna in her present condition and Sean's death still looming large, it was nothing short of terrifying.

"Don't worry about Lorna," said Layla, putting a hand on Alex's shoulder, "there are forces more powerful than you and I that will heal her. Besides, she's going to break up with you and you're going to leave this place. Soon. You don't need to go looking for Sean. He'll find you."

"What?" asked Alex. He was somewhat used to Layla's strange predictions by now but this was different. She was becoming more and more cryptic by the minute…and what did she know about Sean?

"Like I said, I don't know everything," replied Layla, "but I wanted to warn you. Things are about to get seriously complicated."

Alex breathed a deep sigh, "why do I have a feeling that they already have?"

December 2012

Alex lay in his bed, staring out at the bright lights of New York. His new room at the Avengers Mansion was comfortable, the long windows giving him a rather glamorous view of the city. The room was soundproofed too, so that the fireworks of Time Square's infamous New Years' Eve party wouldn't keep him awake at night. All in all, it was surprisingly peaceful. Alex only wished that he could say the same for his relationship with the Avengers.

Alex almost feared his ability to put his past behind him sometimes. It could be so easy when he wanted to be…and even when he didn't. When he thought about how his relationship with Sean had ended, Alex felt nothing. Nothing at all. Alex had left the X-Men as casually as he might when going to the grocery store. He hadn't expected Sean to come with him. A foreigner himself, Sean had bonded better with the new recruits than any of the other members of the X-Men. Alex, by contrast, found himself sparring with them at every moment…especially that loudmouth Canadian, Wolverine. Alex laughed at the memory. After all that had come before, here he was on a team with that very same loudmouth Canadian. And Captain America to boot! Nevertheless, the fit was awkward, as it had been with the X-Men after those first few years, and as it had been with the X-Factor—the team he'd formed with Lorna after leaving the X-Men—the more he thought about it, Alex realized that he barely fit in anywhere at all.

Layla had been right about one thing thus far. Lorna had left him upon recovering from her trauma. She needed to belong after all that she had been through, and a sense of belonging was something that Alex was never able to provide; most likely because he'd barely ever experienced it himself. He'd had five or so good years with the X-Men—with Sean—but that was barely enough to sustain him now. He'd all but abandoned his mutant separatist leanings, expressing distaste at being an 'other' whenever he got the chance, but nothing ever changed. It was at times like these when he missed Sean the most. Sean had ignited something in Alex that was impossible to ignore; an ability to truly love without restriction. That ability had carried over to Lorna for a while but it never stayed. It was, it seemed to Alex, as fleeting and fragile as life itself. It broke as easily as Sean's body was shattered by the Blackbird. Alex cringed and gagged at the thought.

…Or was it that strange, sweet-smelling smoke that he was gagging at? Alex sat bolt upright in bed as the smoke spread, growing in density with every passing moment. It filled his lungs as the view of New York before him became obscured. As Alex waved away the smoke to the best of his ability, he could make out the silhouette of a woman forming from the shadows upon his wall. Within minutes, he found himself face to face with none other than Theresa Cassidy, but hardly the Theresa he knew. Her face was clammy with the pallor of death and her eyes were a ghostly white. She seemed to exude an unearthly glow as she floated toward Alex.

"Alexander…Alex…I am so sorry…"she laid a frigid hand on Alex's shoulder, "this wasn't my intention…I didn't mean to…"

"Wait, what? Terry?" Alex gasped in between deep coughs, still trying to push the smoke away.

"Upon following the path my father laid out for me, I gained insight into life and death that I never before thought possible. I thought that I was lord and master of life itself…but I overestimated my ability to control these forces…Forgive me Alex. All I wanted was to make things right. You were always so good to me…and to my father. He never stopped loving you, even in death."

Alex's eyes burned with tears upon hearing this, or was it just that acrid smoke? As he looked up at Theresa's ghostly form, he realized that she was crying too.

"I thought that I could bring him back…but they got to him first. I battled for his soul to the best of my ability but their power was far too great…Oh, Alex, I am so sorry…I never meant for any of this to happen…" she clutched at her chest with one hand and wiped away a tear with the other, "I've done all I can, Alex. The rest is in your hands, your hands and the Avengers' hands. I only pray that your love might save him from the creature he has become."

With that, Alex found himself alone, the smoke completely gone. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the newly cleared air, and laid back upon his bed. A nightmare? What did it all mean? Alex closed his eyes, beginning to realize how painfully exhausted he was. As he drifted off to sleep, he could have sworn he heard Sean's voice in his head, but the words were impossible to make out.