Armando didn't flinch the second time he saw Alex use his powers. He sat calmly inside the practice room, another of Charles' "tests". Funny how they always seemed more like dangerous experiments to Alex.
Alex knew it was a dream then. The first time Alex stepped into that practice room, Armando was days dead. Alex didn't care. Alex didn't care about a lot of things lately.
He was supposed to hit the dummies on either side of Armando. He wasn't supposed to hit Armando.
He did.
Alex watched the solar energy slice through Armando's skull, saw blood spray out and burn as the heat became too much for it…and watched, stunned, as Armando's skin knit itself back together.
Armando began to laugh and Alex, the blood roaring in his ears, half on the verge of hysteria, joined him. Then Armando's skin turned molten red and he exploded into a million pieces.
ØØØ
They said he had an addictive personality, an obsessive personality. They said a lot of things. Alex remembered them all. Solitary gave a person a lot time to think.
Running did, too.
The gravel crunched underfoot. The cold New England morning air burned in his lungs as he ran.
He could hear the shrieking from far in the distance. Charles and Erik were at the satellite, training Sean again.
Alex continued on.
The gravel felt strange underfoot, turning his sure strides into a slip-slide, forcing him to concentrate just to stay upright. He wondered whether Armando's body would have adapted to the gravel, whether he would wear shoes to run at all.
Didn't matter, his mind replied sullenly. Armando would not be doing any running anymore.
They should have all just stayed where they were. The government hadn't wanted them. They were freaks in their eyes. Inside a cell or out, Alex was still a freak.
The others weren't. How long could Hank have stayed hidden if no one had thought to find him? Raven and Charles had been hiding their whole lives, no one knowing otherwise. With a little breath control, Sean could have stayed hidden, too. Alex didn't know about Erik. He didn't want to know about Erik.
But he and Angel would be hard-pressed to stay in hiding for long. It was little things, little acts of control that built and built until a ray or a bit of spit turned the world into a fiery haze. They could pass as Homo sapiens for years like the others until they made one mistake, did one thing no human could possibly do, and they were branded for life.
They had it good. Armando's life had already been shit. Alex had heard words from the CIA agents, filthy things no one deserved to hear, directed at Armando. He was ashamed to admit it but before he met his fellow mutant, he hadn't cared about how unfair their country was. He had not noticed the discrimination going on around him daily until he was with other mutants and he witnessed firsthand how Darwin the mutant was treated.
Those agents had made him angry. They had made him so damn furious that he was ready to burn the bastards alive- until Armando laid a hand on his shoulder and told him to let it be. The humans would hate him for one or the other. Right now he was working on the mutant cause. He didn't want this for Alex, too.
Alex's foot slid, the gravel giving way to the smooth dirt underneath. Adrenaline surged through him as he crashed to the ground, an unbidden ray escaping and leaving scorch marks on the crushed stone.
Alex ground his teeth and forced himself to one knee. It hurt, oh, God, did it hurt, but it was a small pain. He swore when he noticed the little flames licking up his sweatshirt. They never hurt him but they did terrible damage to his clothes.
"Focus, Alex," he hissed, getting back to his feet. He picked the gravel out of his palms before jogging back to the mansion. It did him no good to think anyway.
The future was the answer, not the past.
ØØØ
Alex slammed his fist into the window frame. It was raining again, long, dreary sheets that turned the outside stone dark and the grounds a muddy trap. It rained often here. Alex hated it. Rain meant no sunbathing.
Alex needed the sun to thrive. He wasn't like other people. His powers demanded hours of sunlight daily to perform at any level. The guards hadn't known that when they had put him in the hole. They hadn't known how much easier it was to break him than other men with the denial of even a little natural light.
Charles had known somehow, even given Alex the sunniest spot on the grounds to lounge, lecturing Alex on the merits of solar influence. He was fascinated by Alex's dependence. Alex wasn't.
The sunbathing was vital and it gave him time to think, the thinking turning to dozing and the dozing to dreaming. He was only ever happy when he dreamed.
Because when he dreamed, Armando was with him.
ØØØ
They were in the practice room again. Armando was right in front of him, urging Alex to aim his rays at him.
"You can't hurt me, Alex," he was saying. "Nothing can hurt me."
Alex was angry, so angry. How could Armando be so wrong?
"She hurt you," he insisted. The room was turning hazy. Alex swallowed, knowing the dream was coming to an end. The dreams always turned hazy near the end.
"She cheated." Armando smiled. It was a cold smile, a vicious smile.
"You're still dead," Alex told him.
"If you say so."
And then the edges blurred and the room disappeared. There was sunlight behind Alex's eyelids. Sunlight and no metal room. No Armando.
ØØØ
Alex never dreamed at night anymore or, if he did, he never remembered what he dreamed.
Sean was convinced he wasn't getting any sleep. He often commented that Alex looked tired, if nearly poking someone in the eyes and saying he looked like a raccoon counted as commenting. Either way, Alex got the message.
He just didn't care.
He felt the same. His control was doing better. Charles told him so. Often. Alex was doing everything he needed to do to improve himself and if he didn't spend much time with the others, well, he never had.
Raven wanted him to talk to Hank. She said Hank was a scientist so he could help Alex find a way to sleep better at night. Alex ignored her. He hadn't asked for help. He didn't want help.
Honestly, Alex didn't know if he could live without the daydreams. He didn't tell anyone about them but Charles probably knew. Alex had run into Charles' "lucky guesses" too many times not to believe the man made a practice of eavesdropping.
Again, he didn't care.
What would Charles say anyhow? Alex was the most powerful team member after Erik. Charles wouldn't dare alienate him.
So Alex continued to daydream and he continued to be happy for a few short hours.
ØØØ
It took Alex a full week to come to terms with Armando's death, a full week to realize the man who could adapt to everything couldn't adapt to that.
He blamed everyone for it at first. He searched for answers and a glimmer of grief among the others, knowing the painful truth all along.
One second of unspoken communication. One second to kill the one person Alex had truly cared about since he'd been imprisoned.
Too many times he had blamed Charles for bringing him into all this. Alex would rather be a freak in a cage than a freak with a death sentence hanging over his head. Because he would have one once he killed Angel. She had watched her new comrades as they killed Armando…and still, she had gone with them.
It wouldn't be "an accident". It would look like one but it wouldn't be one. Everyone from here to his hometown, the whole of the CIA, knew what he was, what he could do, and just how poorly he could control it. Without the suit…
No, it wouldn't be an accident at all.
ØØØ
They weren't in the practice room this time. They were on the roof, under the afternoon sun, the air warm and a bit humid, like a warm caress.
A blanket was spread out under them. Alex wasn't bothered by this. Armando was unclothed. He wasn't bothered by this, either. He closed his eyes. It was so warm.
"You're dead," he told Armando as fingers trailed down his arm. He waited for Armando to deny it, like he had every time before.
"I know," Armando said. "Alex," he murmured, fingers trailing lower. Alex shifted closer. He knew this wasn't real and yet- it didn't matter. This was Armando, whatever was left of him. "Alex." The words were firm now.
Alex opened his eyes.
"What?" he asked.
"Kill her," dream Armando urged him. "Kill her, Alex, for what she did to me."
He would.