It was a dark and stormy night, and Scott and Alex Summers had taken apart the entire propulsion mechanism of the Professor's new wheelchair and laid it out on the living room floor. Xavier had been complaining that it wasn't running smoothly; it didn't really need to be fixed, but it was a respectable sort of thing that the brothers could do together and pretend they actually had something to talk to each other about. (They hadn't, but they did now. Once they had taken it apart, they could talk about how to put it back together, and once they had put it together they could pretend they had accomplished something). And so they were standing side by side, frowning down at the pieces, when the door banged open and Lorna Dane stood there, dripping wet.

"Lorna!" Scott stepped toward her. Her eyes were wide, and her lips were trembling, and if this had been someone else -- if it had been, say, Jean -- Scott would have loaded for bear and asked questions later. Lorna, on the other hand -- he liked the girl fine, but she did have a certain affection for melodrama. "Is something wrong?"

"Scott! It's so awful." Then she stepped forward and grabbed him in an embrace that he thought was a little tight, considering the extremely casual level of their acquaintance. Plus, she was soaking him. But then he started to take in her words. " -- my father, he's getting worse, I don't know what to do, I don't know if anyone can talk to him but I thought, just maybe the Professor --" Slowly but surely, the bottom was dropping out of Scott's stomach. On a scale of one to crisis, this could be very very bad.

"The Professor's here," he assured her. "He's in his study. You can go right up. I'm sure he can -- we can --."

"Thanks," said Lorna, squeezing him tightly before she let go. "You know you're my favorite superhero." Then she stepped back from him and seemed to focus on Alex for the first time. "Hey. Wow. There's two of you. Since when --?" She looked from one face to another, and Scott remembered that she hadn't been back to the mansion since Erik had left; Alex had only come after what they all privately called 'the great divorce.' "It's amazing," she continued, looking at Alex. "You're just like him only -- you're blonde. And you have eyes --" She patted Scott's arm before he could protest. "You know what I mean."

"Yes," Scott answered, with forced politeness. He knew from experience that getting a straight story out of Lorna could be a trial in itself, and now she was going to waste time on social niceties -- "Lorna Dane," he began, "this is my broth. . ."

"Alexander Summers." He leaned in, offering his hand, and flashed a grin. "I'm the pretty one."

Before he gave into his urge to hit them both with a wrench, Scott reached over and started to take Lorna's coat. "The Professor is in his study --" he repeated, with a pointed look at Alex. "I can show you in, or --"

"I know. I will. Oh, Scott, I'm so worried." She soaked him again, laying the coat over his arm and then reached up and pulled the scarf from her head, sending hair cascading over her shoulders. "Thank you." She pecked Scott on the cheek and whispered, "Give Jeannie my love," then took the stairs two by two without a backward glance.

"Christ," Scott muttered when she was out of earshot. "If things have gotten so bad that even Lorna can't reach him, God knows what we --" He turned to his brother and saw that his gaze was fixed on the spot where the girl had stood.

"That hair," said Alex, then translated, annoyingly, for Scott's colorblind benefit. "It's like, emerald green. You think it goes all the way -- ?"

"Oh no," said Scott. "No no no no no no no."

"It's just a question."

"You know who her father is? When Lehnsherr gets done with you, they won't be able to put the body together."

"Two households," Alex said dreamily, "both alike in dignity --"

"You remember how that play ends?" Scott demanded. "If Magneto really has a violent agenda to establish mutant superiority -- which looks more and more likely -- the X-men will do whatever we can to put a stop to that. But I am not putting my team on the line because Alex Summers can't keep it in his pants."

"Whatever you say, big bro." Alex shrugged, the picture of innocence. Exactly what he always said, and what he always did, before going ahead with any damn thing that suited him. Then, for good measure, he whistled a snatch of music. Mar-i-a. I just met a girl named Mar-i-a.

"Her name's Lorna," Scott snapped. "Make that sound sexy if you can."

He looked down regretfully at the disassembled wheelchair. The unnecessary repairs would, obviously, have to wait.

END