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Chapter 2

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Now for Scott Summers, seeing red had become a way of life. He was fourteen years old when he first came into his powers and he never once used them. He never found a purpose to. Then, when he was eighteen and headed off to college, his plane crashed halfway there. One of the few survivors, Scott suffered irreparable brain damage that left him completely unable to control those powers. As his parents reread to him the previously shunned application offer to an Xavier Institute, he changed his mind. Anyplace that could help him see again was perfectly fine in his book.

However, wishes aren't always granted exactly as hoped. He did indeed see again, but only with the aid of a special substance called ruby quartz. He had glasses made to keep his eye-beams at bay on a regular basis, and then a visor for moments of more precise control. The drawback was that the material cast a dark red hue over anything and everything he looked at. Green grass turned brown, yellow curtains were dark orange. Purple was maroon, blue was purple, white was pink, and orange was nearly crimson. Only black retained its original hue. He was accustomed to reverting the colors back to their original state in his mind.

But red was unbelievable. It was the brightest color he could see, and the clearest. It shone vibrantly against a dull background and became the light in his life. Scott suspected that was part of the reason he had fallen so hard for Jean--her hair intrigued him more than he could have ever possibly imagined. To him it was gorgeous beyond comparison. It was brilliant, it was beautiful, and it never failed to stop his heart every time he saw it. There was nothing in the world he liked more than just stopping and staring and running his fingers through her magnificent hair.

And now she was gone. It had been sixteen days since that morning he remembered with frightening clarity. Perhaps only because it was so recent, but he could picture it all like nothing else in his mind. Waking up slowly and reaching across the bed to find a cooling indent where he had expected warmth. Putting on his glasses and scrambling to sit up as he finally noticed the note left in her place. "My dearest Scott," it read. "I don't know how, I don't know why but I have to leave you. Ororo and I will be gone from the mansion for a long while, if not forever. Just remember, I would have only broken your heart in the end. It's better this way. Love, Jean."

Whether or no she admitted it to herself, Jean had broken his heart. She had torn it from his chest and ripped it in two and cackled maniacally as she stomped it to pieces. Maybe not cackled maniacally--though that was how he desperately wanted to picture her doing it--but for over two weeks she had killed any emotion in him. Now he himself played hookey, cutting the classes he was supposed to teach and giving his students the days off as he holed himself away. It took him six days to come downstairs, almost another week to resume classes, but he was far from back to normal. He was spending his free period in the rec room, flipping through old photo albums, when the doorbell rang that Monday morning.

It was nothing new. What had kept him on his toes the most in the past few days was meeting, greeting, and generally getting to know the slew of new people that had poured through their doors. Three of their number had returned from vacation: fellow teacher and teammate Kurt Wagner, doctor and friend Hank McCoy, and student and resident shapeshifter Sydney Jones. New to their haven were several people, some teachers, some faculty, most students--and he was still trying to get their names straight.

The student body welcomed three into their ranks. First was a British girl, a fifteen-year old blonde by the name of Betsy Braddock. She came from a very well-established family in England and had two mutant brothers, neither one of whom accompanied her to the school. Supposedly, though Scott had yet to see in her action, she was a brutal telepath. The battering ram to the professor's light dagger.

A few days later arrived a boy not more than a year older, Jason Wyngarde. Another telepath but one who focused on implanting ideas rather than taking or obliterating them. However, he did not have his image inducing power under any semblance of control and until Xavier put a block on his abilities, mansion residents would be scared silly when something they thought they were seeing suddenly disappeared. Despite his scarred looks and intense personality, he had quickly made friends and was more often than not seen with Angelo Espinosa and Robert DeCosta.

The final addition to the student population was a shy, introverted girl at the tender age of twelve who called herself Lorna Dane. Surprisingly enough, she was the one of the three with the most control over her powers but that control had been self-taught out of necessity to keep from becoming the human magnet. Her parents had dropped her off the day before and left without a word, obviously ashamed of their daughter's mutancy and startingly green curls but not so uncaring that they would leave her on her own.

The staff had added two more people to their numbers, something they desperately needed to keep up with the ever-increasing amount of students. One was now slotted to teach some of the more basic math and elementary sciences. Calvin Rankin was best at dealing with younger children--something the rest of the staff was incredibly grateful for. His own mutant ability, that of copying powers by close proximity, was also helpful. Its similarity to Rogue's could assist in the teen's learning to control her own powers.

The second was a young woman, very intelligent and straight out of medical school. Because Hank loved his research too much to be the best practical doctor, Cecilia Reyes--and her degree in trauma surgery--was the answers to their prayers. It had also been suggested that she start up a Spanish program for any students who might be interested. The force field that was her mutant power was very useful as well. If any energy powers were to go haywire, Cecilia could effectively cage them down.

Scott himself wasn't too sure on who to trust and who to not. The professor had done surface mind-scans on them all but as his ethics would not allow him to dig deeper the possibility of a traitor in their midst was not one Scott could easily ignore. He was cordial to all five people but not quite friendly. That would come when he knew them better. With the sudden incoming of both mutants and mutant publicity, his paranoia level was as high as it got.

Still, he wasn't surprised to hear someone else new come to the door. Putting the photo album aside he got to his feet and made his way across the room to the main hall. He had installed a security system to hopefully keep any of the bad guys from being able to just waltz up to the front door and therefor their guest stood outside the front gate near the road. Whoever it was had called in on the intercom system, just like the instructions said. Scott pushed the reply button and leaned into the speaker. "Xavier Institute," he answered, sounding like he was picking up a telephone. "How may I help you?"

The response was full of static at best. "Aye," came the voice with an indiscernible. "I was told that this was a place for the genetically gifted?"

Well that was pretty up-front. Scott shrugged to himself and smiled inwardly at the speaker's odd choice of terms. From what he could see, the figure at the other end of the lawn was alone. "You've found it. Wait just a moment and I'll open the gate." It took a few minutes for the newest of the new to make their way up the walk, but when they arrived and knocked he was there to open the door.

In only a few seconds, Scott had taken in completely the woman standing on the stoop. She was tall, very tall for a woman, and quite slender. Her clothes were casual, neither sloppy nor overdone and her choice of jeans and shirt complimented her nicely. She had a broad smile across her face, almost to the point of being considered cheeky, and her green eyes sparkled wildly. It was her hair, however, that caught Scott's attention the most. Waves upon waves of red fire cascaded across her shoulders, like the flame that Jean's had always almost been.

The moment he caught himself comparing her to Jean, Scott stopped himself. "And you are?" he asked abruptly, unintentionally rude.

Her smile only widened. "Theresa Cassidy," she informed in a thick Irish accent he hadn't been able to place over the intercom. "Me dad, Sean Cassidy, he sent me over. Said he was an old friend of your professor and I was to help out as much as I could."

TBC