A quick rainbow of emotions struck Scott: a spasm of embarrassment, quickly buried beneath agitation. With a deep breath, though, Scott forced a polite smile to his face before he turned slowly to face the crowd who'd gathered to surprise him. There were a few chuckles. More than a few sets of eyes were on the pile of pillows on the floor rather than him. Julia stepped forward, carrying a large cake. "Welcome home!" was written in blue on the white frosting. They'd even gone through the trouble of bordering the whole thing with striped candles.

Scott stifled the groan in his throat. His mind was immediately taken back to numerous birthdays at the mansion. Every year he would tell everyone he didn't want a party. Every year, they would throw one. It didn't take him too many years to figure out that they all gathered for the party just to see him uncomfortable.

"Did we surprise you?" Julia said, smiling brightly. Her eyes were eager and it was clear to see she was overflowing with excitement. Again, Scott's mind drifted into the past, remembering Jean standing back from the crowd, a grin on her face that was loving, proud, and mischievous all at the same time. She'd enjoyed Scott's discomfort as much as the rest of them, but he could still feel the warmth that would flow through their rapport as she leaned against the doorway, her arms crossed, and watched Scott open the varied gifts he'd received.

For an instant, Scott's eyes blurred, moistened with tears for the dear memory. When he looked at Julia, though, the emotion disappeared. He brought his fist to his lips, cleared his throat, and smiled again.

"I had my suspicions," he said. He nodded to her, and then to the group of strangers. "Thank you," he said.

Mary, Julia's mother, stepped forward, batting away his words as if they were a buzzing mosquito. "Oh, psshh. Don't you mention it," she said. Scott soon found himself the recipient of another hug. Mary patted his back and then rubbed his arms as she stood back from. "A miracle," she said, shaking her head.

The rest of the family approached. A kindly-looking woman with tired eyes moved around Mary and hugged Scott, too. "Lydia," she said. "Julia told us you might not remember us. I'm Julia's sister-in-law." He remembered hearing the name long ago, and he shook his head to acknowledge it. His eyes were drawn to Lydia's hair. Red. It always caught his attention. The color was wrong. It was too dark. Still, he couldn't help but wonder if the glimpse he'd caught of Lydia's hair had been responsible for his nostalgic thoughts.

"Lydia," he said. "Nice to…" He stopped himself, but it was too late. Lydia's lips pursed, and she nodded quickly. Her eyes dropped.

"I'm sorry," Scott said.

Lydia raised her chin. There were tears in her eyes, but she smiled an endearing, comforting smile. "It's great to have you back with us, Scott," she said before stepping out of the way.

A man took her place in front of him. He was as tall as Scott, if not a hair taller, but he was built much wider. It might have been his dark, curly hair, but Scott got the impression that this man's head was too large for his body. A large beer belly hung over his belt. "John," he said. He extended his hand, but Scott saw only boredom and, perhaps, suspicion in the man's eyes.

"Julia's brother," Scott said. He took the man's hand. John squeezed tightly. Though it taxed his tired muscles, Scott matched his grip. And just like that, he knew he didn't like this man.

Next came a familiar face. "Jeremy?" Scott said, puzzled that he could have missed him before.

His supposed partner smiled. "Hey!" he said, in his characteristically loud voice. "At least he remembers me! How you doin', buddy?" He leaned in close to Scott's ear. "Glad to see you survived that first night back," he whispered. "Tom and I had our doubts, know what I mean?"

He leaned back, and slapped Scott on the arm. "You're lookin' good, man! Tom couldn't make it. He said to say 'hi.'"

Before Scott could speak, Jeremy had moved on. The man seemed to have the attention span of a five year old. "You gonna hold that cake all night Jules, or are we gonna eat up?"

With that, the celebration no longer seemed to center around Scott. He couldn't have been happier. He sat down in the pocket he'd created on the couch and watched with mild interest as the rest pushed past each other in a constant churning. Soon, they all had a paper plate with slices of various sizes of vanilla cake weighing them down, and the room fell into a relative quiet.

The soft sounds of chewing and scraping were disturbed by a strange startlingly familiar electric hum. Scott turned his head sharply towards the hall to see a wheelchair carrying an overweight bald man wearing large, dark sunglasses into the sitting room.

"I guess that shithead must already be here," he said. "What does a blind cripple have to do around here to get a piece of cake?"

Both Julia and her mother immediately sprang from their seats, but it was Lydia who was the first to dart for the kitchen. "You two stay seated," Lydia said. "I'll get it."

Scott watched her go, vaguely curious at this family so eager to please. His eyes drifted back to the old man. He guessed that this man must be Julia's father and the "shithead," he'd referred to must have been himself. How pleasant, Scott thought to himself. He watched as the elderly man shifted his weight in the chair. He noticed that the blind man had no legs. They had both been amputated, it seemed, above the knees.

"Be nice, Chester," Mary said, though there was no rebuke in her voice. "Scott, this is my husband."

Scott's only response was a nod. He sipped the bright red fruit punch that had been handed to him with the cake. The liquid was practically all sugar, but he was thirsty. And it gave him an excuse not to speak.

"Oh, that's right!" Chester replied loudly. "Julia told us you'd lost your memories. Pretty convenient if you ask me…"

Lydia emerged from the kitchen carrying a plate and a cup, plastic utensils sticking from the pocket in her blue jeans. She carefully handed each item to the old man, guiding his hands. Chester impatiently grasped the plate and cup, spilling some of the bright red liquid on his grey shirt in the process.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Lydia cried. "I'll get some napkins…"

"Forget it," Chester said. "You got a fork?" He stretched out his hand and Lydia deposited the fork in his palm. He jerked it out of her hand and immediately started noisily shoveling in cake.

"You shouldn't be eating that, Daddy," Julia said. "It's too much sugar."

"I'll eat whatever I damn well please."

Scott shot the old man a dirty look. Out of politeness, he kept his mouth shut, but he couldn't remember the last time he'd met such an unpleasant person. Stranger still, it seemed that the entire family was happy to let him be rude. In fact, all appearances indicated that they catered to him, encouraged the selfish attitude. He shook his head. This man was definitely no Charles Xavier. They might have shared modes of locomotion and hair styles, but the similarities definitely ended there.

"So when are you going back to work?" Chester asked.

The old man was 'looking' straight at him. Scott wondered how he'd zoned in on his location without him saying anything, but he didn't devote much attention to it. The question was surpassingly more tricky.

"I'm not sure," Scott said. "I don't think I'll be going back to work as a police…"

"Why not?"

Scott paused. There were lots of reasons. The fact that he had never trained to be a policeman was far from the least one of them. The greater reason—

"I'd guess he's got some legal problems to take of," John interjected. "Maybe some jail time."

Scott looked over at the large-headed man, and his eyes narrowed when he saw the man's wicked grin. In-laws, Scott thought.

Julia stood up again, interrupting before the conversation could go any further. "He's already helping out, Daddy. He was doing odd-jobs this morning. He'll work when he can. Now, how about we head into the game room where there's more room?"

There were some grumblings. Everyone made their way out of the living room with varying speed. "I'll go get Rachel," Julia announced.

Scott, still sitting, looked over at her. He'd almost forgotten that the little girl was their supposed reason for visiting. "Do you think that's a good idea?" Mary said. "Shouldn't you let the girl sleep?"

"She's been waiting so long for this," Julia replied. "I can't let her sleep through it."

Mary nodded and watched her daughter vacate the room with crossed arms. She then turned and smiled at Scott. "C'mon, dear. Follow me. Do you play pool?"

His mind was following Julia up the stairs, towards the young girl who believed he was her father—the father she barely knew. How could he give her the affection she deserved? Once again, Scott pondered whether he had made a wise decision by playing along. True, there was every indication he owed Julia some kind of compensation, but the potential for great harm to both Julia and young Rachel was becoming more and more apparent, for he would leave one day. Hopefully, he thought, they'll have their Scott Summers back, then. Whoever that is.

"Scott?" Mary asked, snapping him from his thoughts.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I used to be pretty good," he said absent-mindedly. With the statement said aloud, a new thought sprung into Scott's mind. He wasn't just good at pool, he'd always been excellent. For as long as he could remember, he'd been able to calculate angles of reflection with instinctual ease, so that he could successfully complete extremely complicated, ricocheted shots with his optic blasts. He, and the Professor, had always assumed this ability stemmed from his body's adaptations to accompany his mutant powers. Scott's brow furled as he began contemplating the possibilities and their meanings as to whether or not he still possessed this "secondary" ability.

He followed Mary as she waddled her way down a series of ramps and through various room, all clean and neatly (and abundantly) decorated. Finally, they descended into a large room sporting a pool table, table tennis, a card table, and a few other odds and ends. Littered on the carpeted floor were stools and chairs of various sizes and styles, many of which were already occupied by the various houseguests.

Scott watched intently as John snatched a pool cue from the rack on the wall. He stepped forward, past Mary, determined to test his geometric capabilities on the pool table. His heart began pumping with adrenaline. He scolded himself for getting excited, but the feeling remained. There was a chance a part of his old life still existed. He had to find out…

"Scott," Julia's voice called behind him. "There's someone here to see you…"

He took a couple more steps. He was within arm's reach of the pool table. His hand stretched out and his fingers tapped the polished wood. He turned slowly to see Julia standing in the doorway holding young Rachel by the hand. As he watched, Rachel rubbed her eyes furiously, still wiping the sleep from them. Her hair was frizzed and wild from tossing in the bed, and she wore white pajamas with "footsies," the kind only grandparents would buy, much less force upon a girl of Rachel's age. Despite his anxiety, the sight forced a smile onto Scott's lips.

"Rachel," he said.

Scott's mind drifted to the image of the Rachel Summers he'd known. When they'd first been introduced, she was still rough and edgy. At the time, he'd wondered if she was as distant with everyone as she was with him. He would eventually learn that she avoided him because she didn't know whether or not to tell him that she was his daughter… albeit one from a seemingly alternate future. Through the months and years that followed, Rachel had softened considerably, though she lost none of her fighting edge. He'd grown proud of her on many levels. Unfortunately, it seemed that their relationship was doomed to failure, as he had been forced to choose between the affections of a daughter he'd never birthed or the love of Emma Frost.

As the young Rachel before him dropped her mother's hand and ran towards him, Scott knelt and returned her powerful embrace and wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made the right decision. He had no doubt Emma loved him, in her own way. Sometimes, he just couldn't help wondering how that compared to the love of a daughter.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind. Those were concerns he'd debated before and were certainly for another time. Rachel released his throat and looked deeply into his eyes.

"You're awake," she said, smiling.

"So it seems," Scott said, returning the smile. There was a silence. Scott was more used to dealing with teenagers, and even then he wasn't exactly proficient. He was aware of several sets of eyes, watching them and waiting for them to say something. Luckily, Rachel didn't seem to be the shy type.

"Mommy said you forgot lots of things while you were asleep," she said. "Did you?"

Scott hesitated to answer. He finally decided that answering in the positive would not only be the simplest course for him but also be the least confusing for her young mind. "Yes," he said. "She's right."

"Do you remember me?"

The question was asked so simply in her tiny, high-pitched voice. Scott looked into her eyes and saw a fragility. Though her lips were still curled into a smile, he recognized the traits of a question that carried more weight than the asker pretended to give it. His eyes darted to Julia, still standing in the doorway. Her hand was over her mouth. He expected her to shake her head, give him a clue as to how he should answer. She did not.

He looked back at Rachel. "I know you," he said. "Your name is Rachel, and you're my daughter. But I've been asleep for a very long time." He placed his hand on the girl's shoulder. His hand felt enormous as it draped gently across her bony frame. "You might have to be patient with me and maybe even help me out from time to time. Can you do that?"

She nodded slowly, clearly deep in thought. "I'll help," she said. "As long as you let me keep Jaws."

Scott's brow furled, and he looked to Julia yet again.

"Her stuffed dog," she whispered/said.

"Oh!" Scott said. "Sure, you can keep Jaws."

Rachel hugged him again, but quicker this time, as if relieved of a horrible weight and overjoyed at the sensation. There were several "awwws" from observers around the room. Rachel turned and ran to her mother's side. "Did you hear? He said I could keep him!"

"I told you he would," Julia replied softly. She looked at Scott and smiled and shrugged softly. Rachel asked her mother if she could go and get Jaws from her room. Julia approved. Before leaving, the child turned and entreated Scott with her dark eyes yet again.

"Daddy," Rachel continued. "Can we be friends?"

There were laughs around him, and one particularly loud groan. "Of course, Rachel," Scott said. "We'll be great friends."

With that, light footsteps raced up the ramp and disappeared into the house.

"Are we gonna play some pool, or not?" John's voice boomed behind Scott.

"Sure," Scott said, rising from the floor. He turned and shot his large-headed "brother-in-law" an annoyed glare. "Let's play some pool."