Disclaimer: The only thing I own is Elizabeth.

Synopsis:Alex was always told the he was the sole survivor of the plane crags that had orphaned him. A month after the Cuban Missile Crises, he learns that he wasn't.

Italics are flashbacks

"Scott you take care of them do you hear me!" The woman speaking was frantic. Her eyes were wide and sad, but as she looked at her three children, they were fierce.

Her husband was strapping the parachutes onto the two little ones, as she spoke in a rushed tone to the eight year old boy in front of her.

"Mommy?" He whimpered, terrified.

Her eyes did not soften, but her expression did.

"It's okay Scotty," she spoke softly, stroking his hair. "You're going to be okay."
Her husband crouched beside her, the same sad but fierce look in his eyes.

"Son," he said sternly, "you're going to jump from this plane. As soon as you do, I want you to count to thirty, pull your brother's chute, then your sister's. Wait ten seconds after that, and pull yours. "

The woman then pulled all three children into a desperate hug. "We love you. Now jump."

The boy, Scott, did as he was told, and griped a siblings hand in each of his own. He was their big brother after all, and mommy had asked him to take care of them. Plus the twins were only three. It was his job either way.

So he jumped, taking the two toddlers with him.

He felt the air whipping his face as he fought to hold on to Alex and Liza. Slowly, he counted to thirty, curling Liza into his chest so he could pull Alex's cord. It was a battle to keep hold of his brother after he pulled it, and he struggled to get Liza's chute out too.

He waited ten seconds, and was faced with the dilemma of trying to pull his own.

He looked as his baby brother desperately.
"Alex." He yelled. "Al, can you reach the string on my pack? Without letting go of my hand?"

His little brother looked at him with wide eyes, and strained to reach the string. His little arm stretched, fighting against the pull of the wind all the while, and the he yanked it.

But as he pulled, his little hand slipped out of his elder brother's.

Both boys screamed.

"Al!" Came Scott's caterwaul as his brother was pulled away in the wind. He rushed to pull his own shoot, and reached for his baby brother. But it was too late. Alexander Summers had disappeared.

Scott Summers woke up sweating. That was a nightmare that had plagued him for nearly twelve years. The worst part about it wasn't the content, it was the fact that is wasn't just a reoccurring dream, it was a preserved traumatic memory of his from when he was eight.

He sighed. Thinking about the day always made him upset, for obvious reasons, and he supposed it had something to do with the fact that he had told Elizabeth the story the day before.

She had known how the rest of their family had died, but he had never told her the details of that night before. But she had insisted, that,at the age of fifteen, she should be allowed to know how her twin brother had died.

Liza didn't remember Alex, not really, but sometimes they would be talking, and she would suddenly remember a specific instance where the twins had made mischief together, or Alex's favorite color.

But she knew the bringing him up would get him to tell her anything. Because, in Scott's opinion, his baby sister deserved to know everything about her twin. Even if it was only three years worth of information. Because he knew, if Alex hadn't died in the crash, the two would've remained inseparable.

So he had told her every detail her could remember. From the expression on their mothers face, to the feeling of Alex's little hand slipping away from his.

It made since that doing that would bring back the nightmares.

He looked at the calendar across from his bed. Then he sighed. He would not be able to see Liza for nearly two weeks. Yesterday had been visiting day at her Home, and that was the only time he could see her.

It was better before he had turned eighteen. Sure, he had been experimented on by a psychotic social worker, but at least he had been able to keep an eye on Liza.

For the past three years, he had had to trust that she told him everything that had occurred in the past two weeks on each of his visits.

If Mr. Milbury went anywhere near her, then the glasses would be coming off, and for the first time, Scott would want them to.

However, he was fairly sure that her home for girls was out of the scientists reach. That was why he had asked for his sister to be sent there in the first place. His baby sister didn't need to go through that.

He got himself out of bed, taking care to make that his glasses were secure, and got dressed.

The glasses were the only good thing that had ever done. They were the only thing that prevented him from blowing up everything in sight.

He had discovered the particular curse when he was ten. He had hit his head, and gotten a cincussion, while fighting with some boys at his school.

When he woke up in the hospital, he had felt and odd pressure behind his eyes. When he had opened them, everything went red, and he could hear or feel anything except for the searing pain in his eyes.

That was when he started to experiment on him. He said he wanted to know why Scott could do that. Scott didn't want to know why. He just wanted it to stop. Mr. Milbury had said he could make it stop, and so Scott had gone along with him willingly. He had given him the glasses as a 'temporary fix', to keep Scott from destrpying things until he could stop it.

Scott had stopped going along willing after a few weeks when he realized that Milbury gad wanted to get rid of his curse, he wanted to make more of it.

But Milbury had let him get away that easily. No, Scott had been that man's lab rat until he turned eighteen, eight years later.

But nothing like that would happen to Liza, or Scott would kill the person responsible. She could do, something quite similar to him, he discovered when she was about nine. However, she had a bit more control over it.

Insted of fiery beams coming out of her eyes, wicked red hot blasts of energy exploded from Liza's hands.

Whenever she had had and incident as a child, Scott had passed it off to Milbury as being him. He would make some excuse, like his glasses had fallen off or something. Anything to keep his sister off that horrible mans radar.

But now that he was an adult, he couldn't do that. If Lizs messed up, he couldn't say it was him. And if Milbury got a wif of it, they were in big trouble.