Disclaimer: I do not own Scott (I wish I did oO; ), Jean, Bobby or any of the other X-Men in this story. This is all property of Marvel comics and the brilliant Stan Lee. Also, the title of this fanfic is a pun off of 'Saving Private Ryan.' Don't sue me, because I sue back. And I credit my friend Erin/Rogue for helping me with Gambit's accent. Read her fic, her Penname is BloodyRayofSunshine.
And so begins... the tragic story of 'Saving Private Summers'...
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This had not been a relatively good week for the hard-working Scott Summers, field leader of the X-Men. On Monday, he'd tripped on a slippery hall-way of melted ice and flew head-first into a bucket of egg yolk. This forced him to go wash his hair in the shower, when he horribly realized his shampoo had been switched with pink hair-dye. After washing it out on Tuesday for a long aggrivating while, he got tricked into several traps in the Danger Room when he was trying to give Training Sessions all day. On Wednesday, he woke up to find his motorcycle gone and his royal blue Mazda RX-8 absolutely covered in mud... and at dinner, laughing fluid had been snuck into his drink, where he found himself unable to stop laughing for a solid hour, and by then his ribs were aching worse than when he did his 100 sit-ups. On Thursday, he took a shower, to find out his shampoo had been switched.. AGAIN. Only green this time. On Friday, he cleaned his hair and by the was on a total rampage, but only to go through a series of trickery and pranks again. Now being Saturday, and unable to take it anymore, Scott had locked himself up in his room, without breakfast. He was secluding himself from everyone and anything at the moment, where either he would be on the floor doing sit-ups and push-ups, reading a book or lying on his bed trying to choke back the tears that attacked him at the thought of everyone's hatred upon him. Why does everyone enjoy doing this to me? Do they enjoy seeing me in pain? Seeing me on the verge of severe stress? ..He kept thinking those words continually, trying to find a solution. He was feeling so horribly rotten, he hadn't even answered any of Professor Xavier's mental calls, let alone any of Jean's. The students found it amusing, and namely Bobby, Rogue and Remy. Bobby was doing most of the work, and Remy was helping often. Rogue simply enjoyed watching 'Scott get what he deserved.' Though they wondered why they'd been getting constant, murderous dirty-looks from Jean lately. Kitty found it amusing for the first day or so, but she began to felt sorry for Scott, and was trying to tell them to leave him alone, with no effect. Kurt hadn't been much of a prankster lately, he was starting to get rather religious after the current events, especially with Apocalypse and all. Though he didn't say much, he found it to something of a dislike.
Occassionally Scott would hear Jean's voice outside of his door, though she didn't want to come in. She sounded as if she were guarding his room, because every so often he would hear, "You guys, get out of here! You've given Scott enough grief!"
Obviously, Jean didn't sound too happy, and he couldn't blame her. In a way, he was thankful she was respecting his privacy, but at the same time looking out for him when no one else would, namely because of what he was going through at the moment. He despised every moment of the week, because he hadn't been able to enjoy any peace to himself at all. Even with his nose stuffed in a book, he was having little success keeping his mind away from the pranks that had all risen up around him at once in one week. So, there Scott sat, leant on the head-board of his bed with a pillow propped up between him and the head-board for comfort. His eyes peering through steamed ruby-quartz shades from tears that had escaped his eyes from underneath. He didn't lift his hand up to whipe them, he was trying to keep his mind away from that before he burst and embarrassed himself. The last thing he wanted was rumours going around that he was crying his heart out in his room, so he focused on his book instead. Everytime his mind would start to stray, he would simply mentally slap himself and return to the book, trying to keep the last bit of dignity he had left within that heart of his.
Without realizing it, Scott absent-mindedly lifted his head from the book, his gaze switching to the digital clock that was rested on his bedside table. He swore even the gleaming red digits were laughing at him too. He shook his head with a soft snarl that was pushing back the tears that were fighting to trickle from his eyes again. It was 6:38, dinner should be ready by now. He was kind of hungry... but he didn't intend on leaving this room. Not at the risk of being humiliated all over again, he wasn't willing to risk that last bit of dignity. However, Jean must of picked up that thought, because only moments later, she stepped into his room, giving him a mental message before she came through the door, that it was just her, with food. She looked stressed as well, and givenly, sad that Scott was so horribly down like this. Even as that case may of been, she had a plate with a couple pieces of chicken, mashed potatoes with gravy on them, and not to mention a cob of buttered corn. In her other hand, she had a nice cup of iced tea. She set the cup down on his bedside table carefully, and handed him the plate. Scott smiled for the first time today, "Thank you, Jean," he said, almost in a whisper.
Jean returned the smile, her eyes lighting up at the fact that Scott was touched to see her there, "You're welcome, Scott," she replied, kissing his cheek gingerly before turning on her heel and heading out the door. She turned to close the door, neither one's smile had faded until the door completely closed, serving as a solid shield between them.
With a faint sigh, Scott stared at his food through steamed ruby-quartz glasses, prodding at the food with the fork on the plate. Either he couldn't decide what to eat first, or he was just off thinking of other things again. He finally brought himself back to life, and began sawing off parts of the chicken and placing it in his mouth. He would barely even start chewing before his cheek would rest on his fist, and he'd let out another sigh through his nose. It took a while, but he finished his food on his plate, carefully setting it down beside his bed, and laying back down on his pillow. For once, in the first time all week, he was actually starting to feel peaceful again. His stomach was full, just to the perfect extent, he was starting to feel warm inside-out and rather cozy. He was slowly starting to doze off... slowly..slowly..
BANG!
Scott jolted up out of total reaction, finding it a miracle his shades hadn't fallen off during his doze. ...What was that?
BANG!
There it was again. Then he heard a scream, and instantly he'd popped out of his bed. He didn't even worry about his X-Uniform. Instead, he flew out of the room for, one again, the first time that day. It was dark, and with a last glance at the clock, he simply saw : '11:49'. Almost midnight; who would be here at this hour?! Scott instantly suspected Magneto, and jogged downstairs, preparing to chew out the Brotherhood, he even started off with, "Stop right there, Magne--" and instead, he stopped.
In the doorway, there were what looked like troopers, armed with guns and armor. Even helmets. Scott stared in horror, but the troopers stared apathetically right back at him, "Another mutant for our army. This one is Scott Summers. Perfect, just the one we were looking for..."
The eyes of Scott Summers widened in horror behind his shades, "What..? ..Oh god.. N--!" but he barely got out the rest of his plead of 'No' before a dart shot from one of the trooper's guns, instantly sticking in Scott's neck, stunning him... He dropped to his knees, his jaw dropped in surprise, and then fell to his face. He couldn't move, and his eyes were closed... He was rendered helpless....
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Jean stood in the hallway, hearing surprised cries, looking around in surprise, 'Professor?! Professor, what's going on?!' she cried mentally.
'Jean, there are troopers here, they're making a mutant army. They don't want anyone but one right now, they want S-- .. No, Jean, I want you to go to the entrance! Go now, you may still have a chance! I'll tell the rest of the students to hide,' the professor replied to her.
The telepath didn't quite understand what he'd meant, but she wasn't going to question his authority. She instantly started heading towards the entrance, when Bobby and Remy stopped her. "Not right now, guys!" she shooed at them, starting to head downstairs again.
"No, Jean... this is important. We can't find Scott... and he's not in his room," Bobby told her.
Jean's eyes widened in disbelief, "What? Are you sure, did you--?"
"Oui, w'checked everywhere, Jean." Remy replied to her question for her.
The telepath looked confused for a moment, until she heard a horrified, scared yell, by the entrance, when it all came together to her, and only one word gasped from her mouth, "Scott!"
She instantly headed towards the entrance with Bobby and Remy following close behind, when she froze faster than Bobby's ice powers, horror soon adorning her own face. Scott was being dragged off by troopers; his hands were tied roughly behind his back, and his feet were tied together. There was a metal, power-restrainting clasp around his head to cover his eyes, and with every last ounce of energy, he was crying out and trying to wriggle free, until he was thrown in a helicopter. "SCOTT!" Jean screamed, throwing herself foreward in a mad-dash for her love.
The troopers turned around in surprise, and with horribly accurate aim, the three troopers outside of the helicopter shot from their guns, three darts flying into each of the mutants who'd meant to come to Scott's rescue. Bobby fell first with a gasp, then Remy, and lastly, Jean, who was crying tears of sorrow and pain, barely able to even whisper Scott's name when she fell, stunned to the ground, simply tortured to watch the helicopter fly away, listening to Scott cry for help. She felt fury burn up inside her, as well as the tears, with every simply cry and scream of agony and fear that she heard coming from Scott, and at last, she cried out his name with a horrible vengeance-filled scream, before a shriek of a Phoenix emitted through the air, and a firey bird lifted up from Jean, spreading it's wings magnificantly, shrieking, flying, as if trying to follow the helicopter, but simply ended into a bright flare that seemed to stretch firey light all across the atmosphere. The Fury of the Phoenix was rising more than ever, something Jean never knew that slept inside of her... the Phoenix was now born, and the troopers would regret ever playing with fire...
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End Note: Yep. My first chapter. I think you can tell what I'm leading off to. The final birth of Phoenix in X-Men: Evolutions, and it may be off, but I like my angsty way of bringing Phoenix alive. So, this story is not only going to be focused on the birth of Phoenix, it's going to be the tragic story of what may happen to Scott Summers if he isn't saved from the Draft Mutant Army...