Author's Note:
First X-Men: First Class fic and first fic for quite some time. It will, for now, follow Alex's life through until where the movie starts. I really don't have a plan, so I'm writing as I go. The rating will go up, but for now the content doesn't merit higher. This story is on other sites. On AO3 it is under the same name and username. Will be on Dreamwidth with the same information, but on LiveJournal will be titled the same and the user will be whimsy_mimsy.
Useful Information that Pertains to the Story:
I tried to write Alex, in this chapter, to be in the five/six range. He will be around the same range in the next, and possibly third, chapter. After that, I will try to specify ages.
Scott is a couple years older. Right now I can't give an exact age, but he's older, and not by too much. He is old enough to where it is a bit of a drag to have to take your little brother playing with your friends.
I'm basically combining what we know about Alex from the movie, what we generally know from the comics, and then just improvising/creating my own back story for him. Like, I'm not going to go into the Mr. Sinister and all that comic stuff, nor with Polaris. But I'm trying to keep the character within the range of the comics and movie. (I do apologize if this isn't sounding clear.)
Chapter 1 - Crash
Alex didn't remember much before foster care. Although, the small memories he did have were those that, for the most part, he cherished more than anything.
The brother he looked up to, Scott, who would tease him constantly, but always included him in games with his friends. Alex knew he probably didn't want to most of the time, and he knew his friends thought him annoying, but Scott always would. He remembered Scott's grin as he'd helped him learn how to ride a bike, however when Alex had fallen had carried him all the way home to their mother, ignoring the fact that he'd left his own bike behind, the one their parents had given him for his birthday the week before. Scott's sincere eyes when he'd said he'd always be there, no matter what. It'd always be the two of them. Scott's eyes had always been a nice combination of their father's bright blue colouring and their mother's soft shape, they held a compassion in them that he supposed was held only by close brothers, and he'd always be glad of the fact that he'd had a brother such as Scott.
Christopher, their father, although at times a bit serious, was loving all the same. He'd given him piggy-back rides on the beach and brought him little models of the planes he could pilot to play with and put on the shelves in his bedroom. Alex remembered the excitement of seeing the planes in person for the first time when his father had taken him to the Air Base. He'd been able to name all the planes his father could fly, and all the other pilots and mechanics there had been impressed, saying that he had his father's knack for remembering, and maybe one day he'd also become a pilot if he wanted. Flashes of his father smiling at him, always proud of him and Scott.
His mother, Katherine, smiling kindly down at him. In all his memories she was always so kind and beautiful. Her blonde hair was almost always down and flowing, the wind coming in from the ocean blowing it softly. Her eyes bright with the hint of laughter, unless filled with worry over him when he'd fallen off his bike or he'd broken his arm when climbing the tree in their backyard. She would always have him help her in their gardens – pruning the roses, watering the flower boxes, pulling out weeds in the yard. She loved being outdoors, and their home reflected it, with walls painted like the skies and plants on nearly every tabletop. When they could be, the windows were always open, sea breezes bringing in wafting scents of the salty beaches.
The day they'd gone out to fly in the vintage plane his father had been fixing up for years had been as fine a day as any. The sun was shining brightly making the ocean gleam and sparkle with particular brilliance that day. They'd enjoyed a picnic on the beach before flying, full of potato salad, chicken sandwiches, and sliced fruit. Katherine had been sure to give him more pineapple than anything else, and he recalled it being some of the sweetest he'd ever had. The flight had been exciting. It was his first time, and his father had let him sit up in the pit once they'd gotten up in the air. He'd looked out the window with Scott and found his school, where he'd also be going come the Fall. Their mother helped them find their house, and they could just make out some of Scott's friends playing in their street. It'd been perfect.
Christopher had decided to fly out over the ocean one more time before landing. Alex swore up and down he could see whales, but Scott teased that he was just seeing large clumps of seaweed. When he'd tried to get his mother's attention and show her the whales he'd seen, he noticed she was distracted. He'd looked around to see what she'd been seeing, and saw his father seeming a bit uncertain and using the radio to call something in. Katherine had moved to get both him and his brother in their seats with their belts on when the plane shook and she nearly fell over. It was odd, there was nothing to cause turbulence, and there had barely been a breeze on the beach. There hadn't been clouds earlier, had there? Certainly not dark storm clouds like he was seeing out the window now.
That was when his father started yelling for Katherine to get the parachutes ready, and she'd screamed back that there were only two. Something caught in her throat in the middle of replying, and she'd hurried forward and began strapping him in to a parachute before doing the same for Scott without saying anything else. At some point Alex noticed that the dark clouds had somehow gotten into the cabin and an itching in his throat began, making it feel like he couldn't get enough air. Scott was gripping his hand tightly, his bright eyes full of alarm and uncertainty.
Suddenly Christopher was in front of them, telling them to pull something on the parachute Katherine had strapped on both of them, that they needed to pull it when they were outside, that everything would be okay, this would all be over. Katherine was grasped at his face, repeating over and over in a desperate mantra that they loved them. That nothing would stop them from loving them. Her hands ran over his face and through his hair, she kissed his face and held him close. Her normally mirthful eyes were wide with panic and wet with tears. He couldn't understand what was wrong, what could make her so upset, what had his father acting in a way he'd never seen before.
Katherine was suddenly moving the two brothers towards the emergency hatch Christopher was opening. It was at this point Alex realized something was very wrong for his father to not be in the cockpit. Something was very wrong for his mother to be pulling them towards a hatch that should ordinarily never be open. And why didn't she have one of the packs she'd strapped to him and Scott? Why didn't his father, who was now kneeling in front of Scott, telling him something. His mother was holding him tightly now, pressing him to her like she had done similarly when he was in the hospital after he'd gotten his arm set. His throat was feeling raspy and constricted, but he wasn't sure if it was because he was crying so hard – something he hadn't been aware of 'til then – or because of the dark clouds that only seemed to be thickening despite the open hatch and causing his throat to constrict more. It was probably both.
Scott was grabbing him now, pulling him away from his mother, even though she lurched forward to be closer to them, thick streams of tears falling down her face now. His father, who was holding onto Scott with one arm, caught his mother and held her close with his other arm. He yelled something to Scott, though Alex couldn't make out what it was, but it didn't matter because Scott nodded in understanding. Suddenly he was being pulled out of the emergency escape hatch. He craned his neck over Scott's shoulder to see his mother, who was now fully in his father's arms, both grasping to each other. His mother's tearful face blotchy and red, her lips parted has she gasped in air. His father's eyes hard, seemingly trying to keep strong, but there were cracks in the hardness.
And then they were falling.
The air they were rushing through was cold and made him realize how hot it had been on the plane. Looking up at it, he could see flames encompassing the nose and right wing of the plane. Black smoke engulfed it, made it hard to see where his parents were. Why weren't they getting out of the plane? Why weren't they following?
Scott yanked hard at something on his chest, and he was suddenly lurched, the chute catching the air and slowing his descent. A scream caught in his throat, though he didn't know when he'd started screaming. His throat was raw, and he knew it wasn't just the black smoke that caused it. The parachute obscured his view of the plane, but also made him aware he couldn't see where Scott went. No maneuvering or yelling for his brother made him able to see or hear anything from him.
Eventually he hit the water, and his parachute fell out of his view and he could see a trail of black smoke that streaked the sky. There was no sign of his brother nor his parents. The cold waves crashing into and over him drew his eyes away from the sky. He fumbled with the parachute, feeling the ropes and chute pulling him under a bit. Panic coursed through him, and after more groping around and gargled breaths filled with salt water, he untangled himself from the mess that was his parachute.
Alex floundered in the water for a while longer. He wasn't sure of the time, but he could see the black trail in the sky slowly dissipating, which with the lack of wind meant that it had been some time. The sloshing waves rocked him, but it wasn't in a comforting way like his mother would do on occasion. His mother…maybe she was also in the ocean. Maybe she was with his father, and Scott!
With desperate hope, he began swimming as best he could towards where the trail of smoke led.
It may have been an hour before he came to a point where he couldn't tell where the smoke ended. Looking about, he could vaguely make out the trail that he followed to this point, but there were only remnants of smoke. Nothing in the surrounding area showed any sign of his family or the plane. There were only the dark waves and the growing darkness of the sky. Alex desperately called out for his family.
His throat was raw, and at this point breathing was painful, but he continued yelling for his mother, his father, Scott, for a reply of any sort, but nothing came. The creeping exhaustion of the past few hours, along with his increasingly slugging treading of water, was accompanied only with the growing darkness and chill that wouldn't go away no matter how much he moved. He couldn't see any lights beyond the shinning moon overhead to indicate where land was, nor had he seen any when he first landed in the water. He'd never been alone like this before, nor had he ever felt this lonely. It was all too overwhelming, and his shouts for his family faded off into cries and sobs. At some point, he fell unconscious, the waves rocking him in a lulling motion.
Alex could hear movement around his head, but his eyelids felt too heavy to lift, and he felt a strange stiffness in his throat that concerned him much more than anything else. He could vaguely hear something that sounded like it was hissing and blowing, along with a pinging that was starting to get rather tiresome. With some effort, he slowly tried to raise his eyelids, though, with the sliver of bright light that met his gaze, he quickly shut them. Shooting pain in his straining eyes made him groan a bit, which in turn made him start choking on whatever the stiffness in his throat was.
"Careful, careful!" a shrill voice came from his right. Alex snapped his eyes opened, regretting it again when the pain of the bright fluorescent lights hit his eyes, doing nothing to help his choking as it only caused him to panic further. Where was he? What was going on? He just wanted his mother, and to be in his room, his father reading to him, and his brother sitting next to him.
When his eyes got used to the lit room around him, and the source of the shrill voice helped him regulate his breathing, he was able to get a good look at his surroundings. Imposing looking machines were around him, one with some large pump that was connected to whatever was lodged in his throat. There were tubes connected to his arm, but some flimsy looking wrapping obscured his view of where they went, and how they were connected to him. Something that was clipped to one of his fingers went to the thing that was letting out the pinging noises – during his choking it seemed to have been going nuts as it had been doing overtime with those noises, but now that everything was settled again, it was releasing the steady pings. He wasn't sure if this should be considered soothing, but it was much more pleasant than the erratic noises of before.
The shrill voice belonged to a nice enough looking woman in white. Her dark hair was pinned back in a bun, and she had a hat with a red cross atop her head. A nurse, he vaguely thought. Her eyes were kind enough, and she was currently trying to soothe him with sweet sounding words, but he wasn't really listening. He kept looking around for hints of his family. Perhaps his father's jacket slung over a chair or his mother's red handbag. Maybe Scott left one of his books here for him and would be back with more. He didn't know why he was here, perhaps another accident like when he broke his arm from falling out of the tree. Scott had brought books to read with him while he had to stay in the hospital for a few days before he was released to go home. But he didn't know what would cause him to have to have something stuck in his throat, and he couldn't see any casts anywhere on his body.
He turned back to the nurse, who was now checking some of the tubes connected to him. She should know why he was here. But how could he ask, what with this mask that somehow reached down his throat, he couldn't possibly talk with it. The pinging machine seemed to speed up a bit, and the nurse seemed to notice the alarm crossing his face.
"Don't worry, we'll be able to take that out in a few hours – we just want to make sure there are no more complications while you're awake." She turned to write something down on a clip board. "We'll also try you on some food; see if we can't switch you to solids now." She smiled at him, and he could only stare at her. "If you need anything, feel like something is wrong, just push this button here. It'll alert the nurses' station and someone will come and help." She pointed at a button near his wrist that was attached to the bed, then with a final smile, made her way out of the room.
Alex stared after her, watching the door slowly close behind her. From his seat he hadn't been able to see anything outside the door, and the window into the hall had its blinds closed. He turned his head to look straight ahead. Where were his parents? Scott? He tried to remember anything, but it all felt like a muddled mess, making his head hurt and being no more informed than he had been before.
The nurse from before came in a few times after, but he hadn't been able to communicate her due to the mask. He tried to lift his arms, but they felt like dead weight, which sent him into a panicked frenzy that resulted in more choking before the nurse was able to calm him down again. When she came in again, she came in with a tall man in a white coat.
"Hello there, I'm the doctor on-call for this shift. Now, let's see if we can't take this off for you now so you can have a bit to eat." He smiled in a way that was probably supposed to come off as reassuring, but only managed to make Alex uncomfortable. The nurse walked to the opposite side of the bed as the doctor and detached a few things, mirroring the doctor. "We want to make sure none of the smoke inhalation will be a problem. You came into here pretty banged up, now, didn'ja." Alex only stared.
"Okay, this will be a bit uncomfortable, but it needs to be done, alright?" The nurse said to him, rubbing his temple softly. It reminded him of his mother, but his mother had softer, more soothing hands. The gloves she was wearing didn't help.
With a small exchanging of words between the nurse and the doctor, they began pulling out the uncomfortable thing; it scraped against his throat, making him realize how painful it was, how raw it was. With it fully out, he could lave his tongue around, though it felt like a wool sock in his mouth. Swallowing was uncomfortable and scratchy, made worse by the fact that his tongue felt all too big for his mouth and like it was trying to fall down his throat and choke him.
"Do you feel better?" The nurse inquired, eyes looking imploringly at him.
He didn't feel like he'd be able to make out any words, so he nodded slightly, something that he'd been worried about doing with that thing shoved down his throat before. But he didn't really know if he felt better. At least with that thing in, he wasn't aware of how horrible his throat felt. It felt like someone had rubbed the grittiest sandpaper they could find along the inside of his throat until he bled. The air he breathed in felt too harsh on it, and even tasted weird. He supposed it was the stale, sterile scent that accompanied hospitals that his mother hated, much preferring the scent of the evergreen pines and ocean breeze.
His mother…where was she?
Author's Notes:
I'd really appreciate feedback. Again, I'm rusty on writing, so almost anything helps.
~Whimsy