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Late afternoon in Salem Center...
Clad in his trademark slacks and sweater, Scott Summers stood by the window of his room. Scott's right arm was in a light cast and sling, and his normally loose clothes fit snugly over his heavily bandaged body. On his face were a new pair of ruby-lensed sunglasses. In the back of his mind, Scott noted that this pair hadn't quite been broken in yet...
Scott felt numb. And not just because of all the painkillers running through his system. Emotionally, he was drained. The emotional and physical extremes he'd experienced over the past two days had taken an enormous toll on him. And the things he'd learned...
As Scott looked out at the overcast sky, all expression slowly drained from his face. It was drizzling outside, and Scott could occasionally hear the quiet sound of distant thunder. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, and Scott could feel the cool outdoor air slip through the edges of the window.
Scott couldn't help but notice the appropriateness of the weather. The bleakness of it seemed so... Fitting. The weather put Scott into a contemplative mood. Overcast days always had. For as long as Scott could remember--today being no exception--overcast days had been days for brooding. And Scott, of all people, knew how to brood...
It had all started when he had been dropped off at the orphanage. In the previous year, Scott had lost his family to a plane crash, suffered a severe concussion, and had gone through a succession of foster families. The loss of his parents had caused Scott to retreat from the world, turning him into a shy, withdrawn child. A silent wraith, just going through the motions of life.
None of the foster families knew how to deal with Scott. Few of them wanted to. Even Scott himself didn't want them to... In the end, Scott was dropped off at an orphanage in Missouri. Abandoned.
The sky was overcast when Scott was dropped off. The other kids were playing inside. Scott could have joined them, if he wanted. He was new, they didn't know anything about him. They would have accepted him. But at that point, all Scott wanted was to be left alone. So he stayed outside.
Before long, it had begun to rain. Still, Scott stayed outside. He stood in the center of the yard, staring into the sky. To Scott's young mind, this was an act of defiance. A symbolic gesture to the world. It was his way of saying that whatever the world did to him, it wouldn't break him.
Not that the world didn't try. The pain of being alone had only just begun to eat away at Scott. Though he didn't know the term, he was also caught in the throes of survivor's guilt. Not long after, Scott's mutant power manifested. First in the form of severe headaches. Then in uncontrollable optic blasts.
This led to a new level of alienation for Scott. Worse, a new level of self-imposed isolation. A paralyzing fear that he would hurt anyone he came in contact with. Eventually, Professor Xavier and his Institute stepped in to help Scott. But this only led to more troubles. The Brotherhood. Mystique.
And now, the Nasty Boyz. They had been the world's best shot at breaking him. They were a more than a match for Scott. Both physically, and mentally. And they had taken him completely unawares. As Scott continued to stare at the sky in his age old act of defiance, he contemplated just how close they had come to breaking him.
The sky was momentarily lit by lightning. As the ensuing thunder rumbled across the mansion, the events of the past few days replayed in Scott's head. The events moved by like a blur. A senseless stream of actions and images, periodically punctuated by sonic booms and flashes of red.
Then, in a moment of clarity, Scott saw himself in his final confrontation with Alec. It was early in the fight, right after Alec unleashed his sonic blast. The effort had left Alec exhausted. Scott was still on his feet, standing on the other side of the battlefield. One blow would have finished the fight. Just one optic blast...
Scott closed his eyes in resignation as the ensuing events rushed through his mind. His visor jammed. The ruby quartz lens became locked in place. Deprived of any ranged attack, Scott charged forward. The fight that followed was the most physical, brutal, and violent confrontation of Scott's life.
It didn't have to happen like that. It didn't have to happen at all. Scott could have still ended the fight without getting physical. He could have ended it cleanly. He could have used his optic blast. All he had to have done... Was take off his visor.
That thought echoed through Scott's consciousness. It was easy to explain why doing so didn't occur to Scott at the time. He was in the heat of battle. He had been hurt badly. He wasn't thinking clearly.
But he was. By that time, Scott had regained control of his emotions. He was furious, but he was in control. And Scott always thought through his options in a fight. No matter how bad the situation was. Yet, somehow, he overlooked this option.
Standing in the mansion, Scott could only come to one conclusion: he hadn't overlooked that option. He ignored it. He didn't take off his visor because he didn't want to finish the fight cleanly. He wanted Alec to suffer for what he had done. He wanted Alec punished. And he wanted to do it personally. He wanted to beat Alec down, with his own fists...
For a moment, Scott's head dropped. He had always prided himself on the fact that he was a peaceful man. That deep down, Scott Summers would rather settle things with words than with blows. But now... Now...
The Nasty Boyz hadn't come close to breaking him. They did break him.
"He's got a broken arm, fractured collarbone, four cracked ribs, bruised kidney, and a punctured lung... And he's already up and about." Logan's dry chuckle brought Scott's thoughts back to the present. "I like you, kid. Ya remind me of me."
Still chuckling, Logan made his way across Scott's room. He stopped at Scott's side, and leaned casually against the window sill. "Okay, Scotty, the Professor said you wanted to talk ta me. What's on your mind?"
Ordinarily, Scott would have looked at Logan before responding. But not today. Today, it hurt to move. "During the mission," Scott began, still staring out the window. "Before all the fighting, I spent a lot of time talking to Alec. Ruckus. He told me that he was working as an agent. Just like you and I work for Xavier, he was working for a man named Nathan Essex."
"...Which means Essex is the man responsible for everything that happened that night," finished Logan. "And he got off scot-free. I hate the guy already. You talk to Charles about this?"
Scott nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Yeah. The Professor said... That he'd never heard of him. I was hoping you might've. I figured that since you ran solo until just recently--plus all your black-op work before that--you may have run across the name. Somewhere..."
"I see what you're gettin' at kid. But..." Logan sighed, dejectedly. "But I can't recall ever hearing the name Nathan Essex. That doesn't mean I haven't... You know how it is with me and my black-op days. Just can't remember much of anything from back then..."
"It was a shot," commented Scott.
"Yeah," agreed Logan. "Had ta try... Look Scott, I want this guy. Prob'ly not as bad as you, but I still want ta see him brought down. I'll keep an eye out. Maybe see if I can't find a few of my old contacts. Run through some databases. At the very least, we'll try to match a face to the name..." Logan sighed again. "It'll take some time, but I'm on it. In the mean time, you rest up. The Prof. said we ain't goin' back to Newark for a while. Not 'til he can get Cerebro to get a full scan of the area... But when he does--and when we do go back--you'll need you to be nice and healthy if you plan on going back with us!"
"Yeah." For the first time in the conversation, Scott's voice held a note of happiness in it. "I will, Logan. Count on it."
With a smirk, Wolverine pushed off the walk, and walked to the door. But as he reached the threshold, he paused. "By the way Scott, good job back there. Don't know how you held it together, but ya did. Better than anyone else would have. Ya ought'a be proud."
Logan's footsteps echoed down the hallway, leaving Scott once again alone with his thoughts.
"Proud?" Scott softly repeated. "Proud..."
As he stood listening to the rain, the word echoed through Scott's mind. It kept echoing, to the point where it had lost all meaning, whatsoever.
"Scott?" Rouge's soft voice pieced Scott's reverie. She was standing in Scott's doorway, and her tone indicated she may have been there for some time.
"Uh, sorry Rogue. Didn't notice you there. Did you... You need to talk?"
Rogue slowly made her way across the room. "No... Yeah... Ah don't know. Ah just wanted ta know if ya're okay?"
Scott paused a moment before responding. "No. No. I'm not okay..."
"Ah guess none of us are, really," Rouge weakly responded. ""Specially Kitty. She's... She's real shook up about you, an' how you... how she didn't notice..."
"I know what your getting at Rogue," Scott softly soothed.
Rogue nodded, distraught, and clearly not sure what to say next. Ultimately, she said nothing. Breaking her gaze away from Scott, she looked forlornly out the window. For a moment, the pair stared silently at the rain.
"Look, Scott, Ah really want ta thank ya for what ya've done for me since Ah got here. Ah mean... When Mystique was after us. Back there--when it was just ya an' me an' them... Ya... Ya really didn't have ta do that for me..."
"Yes I did, Rogue," soothed Scott.
"But... Scott, ya were almost killed, protectin' me. Twice. Am I really worth--"
"Rogue, listen to me." Though quiet, Scott's words had an unmistakable force behind them. Rogue looked up at Scott, and found his ruby lenses staring her in the face. "You're an X-Man. That makes you are my friend. My family. My team! And I--" Remember when he had last uttered those words, Scott choked on them. "And as long as you're one of us, I will protect you. No matter what."
"Ya... Ya mean that?"
"I wouldn't be at the Institute if I didn't."
Somewhat overwhelmed, Rogues' eyes fluttered. She quickly averted her gaze a few stray tears escaped her. "Really? That--That's more than anyone's ever done..." Rouge discretely wiped her eyes and turned back to Scott. "Ya don't know how much that means ta me."
Scott didn't respond, but the glimmerings of a smile played across his face. Thunder rumbled again, and Scott returned his gaze to the sky. But as he did, his bleak expression returned. As Rogue watched, his expression worsened. Within a moment, Rogue could have sworn he was scowling.
"Scott?"
"He lied to me, Rogue."
It was a simple statement, yet it seemed to mean the world to Scott. Unsettled by the sudden change in the mood, Rogue took a questioning step forward. "Ya mean Alec? Look Scott--"
"No. No, not Alec. Xavier."
"Wha--What?" Rogue was taken aback. Both by the gravity of what Scott said, and the bluntness with which he said it. "What do ya mean, Scott?"
Scott responded with an emotionless monotone. "This morning, the Professor and I were going through a debriefing. Piecing together just what had happened back there. And why... I mentioned Nathan Essex--the guy who was giving orders to Alec and the others. The man who orchestrated that whole event..."
"Waitaminute!" Cut in Rogue. "Ya mean Alec wasn't the leader?! But he said--"
"Oh, Alec was the leader, all right," Scott dryly responded. "Alec is the leader of the Nasty Boyz, just like Lance is the leader of the Brotherhood." Scott paused a moment, then continued is a much quieter voice. "...We lead... But we still take orders..."
Rogue didn't catch the change is Scott's wording. "But... Where does the Professor come intah this? Where'd he lie?"
"When I brought up Essex," Scott responded stoically, "I asked if the Professor if he had ever heard that name before. And the Professor... He looked me straight in the eye... And he lied." Scott's voice faded to a whisper. "He said no."
"Hold on Scott," said a very concerned Rogue. "Ya can't know that for sure--"
"But I can, Rogue. I can." Scott's face voice hardened with resolve. "You're still new at the Institute, but I've been here for years. I know the Professor..."
Unnerved, Rogue said nothing, waiting for Scott to continue. When he did, he did so as if in a trance. "...The Professor doesn't like lying. But, if he feels lying necessary, if he feels the truth is too damaging, too overwhelming, he will. Truthfully, I've only seen it once before, when I was still new to the Institute. I... I asked him why he was in a wheelchair. He looked at me, and told me it had been an accident. A car accident...
"At the time, I accepted the answer. I was young. I was still scared. I wanted to believe that something like that was an accident. After all, it was so much like what had happened to me... I'm not sure I could have handled it if someone had deliberately done that to the Professor. To me. To anyone...
"I accepted the Professor's answer, but for some reason, I never forgot the look on his face when he gave it to me. There was just... Something about it..." Scott trailed off for a long moment. "I never figured out exactly what happened to the Professor's legs. And the Professor never told me he lied. But... Somewhere along the way, I just realized that it hadn't been that incidental. That... Someone had meant to cripple the Professor.
"...And looking back, I think that's the way the Professor wanted it. He wanted me to understand what could happen in the world... But he wanted me to do it in my own time. When I could handle it." Scott's voice again faded away.
"And, now?" Rogue knew Scott was telling her this for a reason, but she didn't know what that reason was. In truth, she wasn't sure she wanted to know the reason.
"...And now," finished Scott, "when I asked the Professor about Essex, he looked at me the same way he did when I asked about his wheelchair. The exact. Same. Way." Scott paused again. Rogue could swear she saw him shudder. "The look was the same, but his voice... There was something different about his voice...
"There's something in Newark, Rogue. Something... Worse... Than the Nasty Boyz. And Nathan Essex is at the heart of it. ...I don't know. It may be Nathan himself... But whatever it is, the Professor doesn't think I--or any of us--can handle it. Worse, I think it scares him."
Rogue's voice had a concerned undertone to it. "Scott, Ah know the Professah just came clean to ya'all about Mystique... But didn't he at least acknowledge her first? Didn't ya always know she was around?" After a slight pause, Rogue continued in a whisper. "What could be so bad, that... That he won't even admit it exists?"
"I..." For the first time since she had met him, Scott's voice a had a quiver of fear in it. "I don't know. And that scares me. That scares the hell out of me..."
Again, Scott shuddered. And the sight of this sent a chill down Rogue's spine. Not knowing what else to do, she slipped a comforting arm around his shoulder. A flicker across his face acknowledged the gesture, and a moment later, he did the same. Together, the paired stared out into the rain.
...And neither of them could bring themselves to say anything further. Not for a long time...
...End....