DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything. Not even a nice pair of shoes.
A/N - A note about AU-ness:
This story will diverge from cannon somewhere between BoA and Messiah CompleX. Often times, this story will completely ignore events in Messiah. I personally didn't think Marvel did a stellar job finishing a story with a pretty intriguing beginning – though I'm not promising I'll do a better job. Also, in regard to some characters which Marvel is notorious for neglecting, even after they build them up to be integral (ahem… Gambit) – I will be reworking some of the event between BoA and Messiah, but if it isn't expressly mentioned, assume it's cannon.
Also, I'd already written a lot for this, even if it was never posted. The slight change in timeline might make some of these things AU, but for the most part anything important I'll fix, anything minor hopefully you either won't notice or you'll take with a grain of salt. Hey, if it's AU anyway, right?
A/N #2:
I'm totally reworking this baby. Even though before today, only two chapters and a prolog have been posted, if you've read those, read them again. This biggest change to look out for is that this went from post- to pre/during Messiah Complex.
Please please please review. Non-reviewed chapters keep me up at night. Then I don't sleep and I do a crappy job at work, and then my boss will have to hunt you down, and no one wants that. Right?
Prologue: "Only the Martyrs"
"Please, not now… Mom."
Scott Summers awoke with a start, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. His mind instantly registered pain before it could figure out what the source was. Then, almost instinctively, he tightly shut his eyes as he removed his protective glasses. They were hot as coals. It took every ounce of tolerance he had to not throw them out of his singed fingers.
The amount of movement and the string of mental curses managed to rouse his slumbering partner. Her first tired - very upset at being woken up - instinct was to simply mentally soothe him back to a peaceful slumber, but she resisted. Their marriage had hit a few bumps recently and she knew how sensitive her husband had become to undue mental probing. "What's wrong?"
His eyes shut tighter as he replaced the now cool glasses back onto his face. "I don't know, Emma. I… lost control of my optic blasts in my sleep. I think they were going to break right through my glasses."
The White Queen's hand snaked up his bare chest until her palm gently found his cheek. Scott relished in the comfort and allowed himself to slip back down into the comfort of his mattress and his wife's loving touch. His skin tingled with a strange sort of ease as the soft skin of his wife's face came to rest on his chest. Emma craned her neck to look up at her husband's face, genuine concern behind her eyes. "I thought we had fixed all that."
"I thought we had, too."
Fatigue won over Scott's concerns as he pushed thoughts of his erratic powers to the back of his mind, allowing his eyes to peacefully close once again behind his ruby shades. Emma Frost, former White Queen of the Hellfire Club, current Headmistress of the School for Gifted Youngsters, was an opportunist. With Scott on the far edges of slumber with strange thoughts already intruding on his mind, he wouldn't even notice her psychic presence. The opening was not missed on the skilled telepath.
Upon entering his mind, Emma was instantly confronted by feelings of fear and confusion. He was not playing dumb or avoiding her implied question – he genuinely didn't know what had caused his optic problem, not even on a subconscious level. As much as his honesty reassured her, the mind of a master tactician and strategist, the mind of the leader of the X-Men, having no idea what psyche disturbance caused his newly found and near flawless control over his mutation to wane was far from comforting. It was then that her mental vision was flooded with shades of red, yellow, gold. Fire.
"Apparently not, honey."