Title: Between the Light and Darkness 

Author: Water_Soter

Summary: A mysterious force threatens the sanity of one of the X-Men

Main Characters/Pairings: Scott/Jean (sort of), Professor Xavier, Ororo, Logan, Hank, Kurt, Kitty, Evan.

Series: From One End To Another Part 1

Author's Notes: First off, I want to thank Xandria for her support. I don't think I'd be posting this story if not for her, so now you know who to blame J. My beta Kris is a lifesaver and I thank her for all her help. This story I'm dedicating to Nadja. My light in the deepest darkness. This story takes place after "Under Lock and Key" in the X-Men: Evolution cartoon.

Feedback: Absolutely! I'm new at this, so please don't burn me at the stake. Nevertheless I will appreciate any comments or suggestions you have on this story J. Write to me at www.Water_Soter@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Marvel comics and the almighty Stan Lee. It's free so please don't take the shirt of my back, J.

Warning: this story is pretty mild L but future chapters might not be J, so if you're easily offended please don't read, otherwise, be afraid be very afraid . . . hee! ha ha ha ha  (diabolical laugh!).

Squishy  thoughts          "Yummy"   spoken         Whoopee     telepathy

The darkness.

Where I have dwelt for far too long. So close to the surface...yet so far from the place I had been. A paradise to some, and a hell to others for which there is no escape, waiting, watching the one, the boy, my key.

I was oblivious to the external world when I first came to be there. Family, friends, home, all these meant nothing in that place. I was happy, content to spend as much as eternity there, but that was not to be. For something ripped me from where I was jovial to this other place between. Where I have remained. Trapped.

I can sense what goes on around me, I can hear the familiar voices of my kin, but I cannot reach them. I need someone, I need the boy to latch on to, then maybe I will be free from this exile.

Free from the darkness.

It was raining outside, hard, ruthless, tearing slowly away at the weary roof of the Xavier Institute.

Cold droplets accompanied winds and thunder that break the calm of the night. Where stars once shone, heavy dark clouds spread wide through the skies. Only the shimmer of lightning gave a glimpse of that which lay in the darkness. An old building had remained on these green covered grounds standing proud after the many decades. The brick was worn but had a hard core. Long vines embraced the sides of the manor. Firm maple trees surrounding the outer stretch of the area made it all the more ghostly under the storm's dark gaze.

Inside all seemed quiet, still. The residents slept soundlessly save for one, a young man whose uncontrollable powers could tear a hole through a mountain, his destructive eyes covered cautiously with frail ruby quartz glasses. His sleep was fitful, whispers painfully gripping his mind. A call, a need, one which he was unable to answer but whose demand could not be ignored.

Come, the order was clear, alluring the young man, but he resisted. The pull was strong but his will was stronger. He could see an image in his glazed mind, mist darkening a lone figure. Come.

Who are you? He spoke in anguish, the simple ache having become an unbearable torment. But there was no answer, and the outline of the person became somewhat distinct.

It was a woman, hair long and unruly, a simple gown draped over the thin frame. 

He wanted it to end, confusion becoming fear, for this cold place where he stood was lifeless, drawing him into its shallow oblivion despite his efforts.

Come!

NO! The desperate cry ripped him away from that place and into his room where he woke with a start.

He sat on his bed, clutching the pale blue sheets for comfort as he regained his bearing. Two weeks now, two weeks of the same recurring dream. The terrible headaches that always accompanied them he feels now. His breathing was heavy and sweat drenched night clothes stuck to his body like a second skin. He could hear footsteps heading his way. Professor Xavier, Logan and Jean, he assumed. The nightly routine that had started after the first "dream". Logan opened the door, not as roughly as he had the first few times this happened, followed closely by Professor Xavier and . . . Ororo? He had expected his red headed friend, who had come the past times, but apparently not tonight.

"Scott?" Professor Xavier's concerned voice did little to alleviate his own unease.

"Same one?" Logan asked the question they – Professor Xavier, Ororo and Logan – needed answered.

He answered simply, knowing the real question that was meant but not spoken. "Yeah." He mumbled, not in the mood to go through all this with them, or anyone for that matter.

"You have had very little rest for the past weeks, Scott. Perhaps Henry should give you something to sleep deeply enough to relieve you from these nightmares." 

"No, I'm fine, professor. It's just a dream, I can handle it." His voice, although quiet, displayed the underlying irritation that was becoming evident.

"Scott, you have been too worn out to perform to your best capabilities in the training sessions. This cannot continue." Ororo spoke softly, her mere presence speaking volumes of her concern for the young man.

"Listen, kid, enough's enough. Ya need help, so stop being so stubborn about it." Logan said with annoyance, leaning next to the door, arms crossed and looking like the predator he was.

"I'm not being stubborn, okay. I just don't wanna talk about it."

"Then allow me to enter your mind," The professor began, eyeing Scott's hassled features, "I can implant a telepathic suggestion that would allow a full night's rest without the nightmares to disrupt it."

"Hey, what's going on?"

"Yeah, vat's vith all the noise?" Kitty and Kurt's voices cut into the uncomfortable conversation, making the brunet extremely grateful. 

"It's nothing, Kitty, Kurt. You both should go back to bed." It was not an order, at least the older man didn't need to make it sound like one to get the point across. 

"Uh sure professor." They turned and left, but not before giving the older teen a look that was hard for him to distinguish.

Scott saw that all their attention had returned to him, unnerving the teen. "I'll be fine, sir. I'm sure they'll go away soon." He truly wasn't sure if he was trying to be convincing or wanting to simply get rid of them.

"Fine, bub, but if this gets any worse, I'll knock ya out myself." The threat was only skin deep, and they all knew it. This was the gruff man's way of showing his affection. 

The professor sighed, looking solemnly at him, "My door is always open, Scott. I am more than just your mentor, I am your friend. Goodnight."

"Yeah, goodnight." He mumbled after the door had been closed, eyeing the place where his mentor had just been. His emotions were in turmoil, surfacing with a vengeance despite how well he had always hid them. The only thoughts persistently roaming through his mind, They'll just go away, I know they will.

Breakfast was uneventful, save for Kurt drinking all the milk, causing mass hysteria among the resident teens, who in turn screamed bloody murder. It was an interesting sight for those who didn't need the dairy product to function in the morning. School went on for them with the usual "hushed" bantering about their unique abilities.

For Scott Summers, however, it felt as though the walls were suffocating him. It wasn't the classes or the people around him, but rather an unnerving feeling that there was something waiting, watching his every move. Like walking into a dark alley and expecting someone to jump you from behind when your back was turned. The sense of foreboding was so strong, that Scott had became very edgy, keeping to himself more often than not.

Those around him noted the change, watching from the sidelines as the outgoing youth recoiled back into a shell few knew he had. Despite the closeness he shared with several members of his family, none had been able, or allowed, to break through that hard steel wall. What he hid beyond the surface was anybody's guess. But he had been good at concealing things from them, a talent learnt from years of living precariously on the streets, then in a bundle of foster homes that were less than nurturing.

"Scott, wait up, man!" The hallways were crowded with the emerging students as six period had finally ended. Scott had emerged deep in thought until a familiar and very unexpected voice drew his attention. A young black teen with blond – obviously dyed – hair was running toward him. A fellow teammate and friend, the only problem with this was that the said young man was currently missing in action somewhere beneath the city streets.

Scott could do nothing but stare transfixed at the sight. It felt as though everything was in slow motion. Evan Daniels came within a few feet of him, then as quickly, faded away. Nothing remained. All the older teen could do was stand there, mouth agape when suddenly, a flash of light and he felt as though his head would split apart. He wasn't even aware that he had clutched his head, or slid to the floor, his conscious mind only registering the immense pain that felt unending. But as suddenly as it had begun, it subsided and everything became a replay of his recent dream. The same dark, misted place, the voice, then light and familiar voices talking from far away.

"His vitals are stabilizing, but his body temperature is still quite low, I fear."

"Do you know how something like this could occur?"

"He went into a state of shock, causing his vitals to become erratic, but I have yet to discover the reason for this sudden reaction."

Their voices were clearer, and so was the painful pounding in his head as well as the chill he felt throughout his body. With much effort he managed to open his eyes, blurry images becoming distinguishable, "Professor?" The brunet's croaky voice echoed around him, as the figures turned their full attention toward him.

"Welcome back," The blue image of Doctor McCoy spoke, giving him a toothy grin as Xavier came to his bedside, laying a comforting warm hand on his shoulder while the other man came to his left. "How do you feel?"

"Where?" He asked, tiredness dripping into his tone.

"You're in the Med Lab, Scott." His professor responded gently. Upon his questioning look, the man added, "You passed out in school today. Jean contacted me and we transferred you here as soon as we were able to. You do realize you gave us quite a scare."

His mentor smiled, a weak and tired smile, but one nonetheless. Scott felt incredibly tired, but he needed to understand what had happened to him. He barely remembered anything. "I . . . I saw Evan." A gasp from the doorway caught his attention, for the first time noting the weather goddess standing near the doorway and instantly regretted his words. No one at the mansion had been more upset about Evan's disappearance as much as Ororo, his aunt.

"That is very unlikely, Cerebro would have detected his signature near the school." The professor added quickly before the usually calm woman could react. He understood the underlying apprehension of Scott's comment, but in his weakened state, he needed rest more than an interrogation.

"He should rest, Charles, he is in no condition to be answering any questions at the moment." Dr. McCoy followed suit, eyeing the professor.

"Charles." The plea escaped Ororo's lips making Scott flinch, but his body refused to respond as he wanted to assure the white haired woman and he sank into a deep sleep. The darkness seemingly empty of what has haunted his dreams and mind.

Peaceful.

So quiet, but I can feel some of the light coming through. Noise. What is for others a nuisance, for me is a blessing. It brings

hope to my weary existence, like a sparkling star in the cold lifeless night.

I can feel, taste freedom. I yearn for it with every fiber of my being. Even in this oblivion, there is still something that drives me forward. I will overcome, surrender to the needs of my soul. Soon, soon, it will all end.

I will spread my wings.

And leave my welded cage.

To Be Continued