The smell of freshly cut grass was what Scott awoke to, the sounds of birds chirping and the mailman speeding down the street on his motorbike, the sun flaring in through the curtains. All these things were very much signs of being in the suburbs. That lead Scott to ask the question; "Where the heck am I?"

He found himself in a house he didn't know, in a room he didn't know, in a place he didn't know, in a bed he didn't know, cuddled up to someone he very much did know- Alex? His older brother?

Assuming it all to be a dream, he decided enjoy the moment of delusion while it lasted and then fall back asleep. Sound asleep.

"What in the Sam Hill is this?!"

"Care to explain, Alexander?"

"Whuh.. Oh, er, well. This is Scott."

"Oh, so it's Scott, well, I'll be darned, that explains everything. Alex Blanding, you explain what's going on right now or dangnabbit you'll not see the light of day until you're eighteen years old."

"I'm eighteen in a couple of months anyways, that doesn't phase me, just, listen, I'll explain everything soon, okay? Please, he's still asleep, stop yelling, you'll scare Scotty-"

"We let you go away on a trip with your strange freak friends for THREE days and you BRING HOME A CHILD. Good lord..."

"Oh, we'll scare Scotty- boo hoo, who the hell is he? Scott as in your Brother? You've got to be kidding me, you expect us to care for someone with his issues?"

"No, he's my business. My Brother, I can take care of him myself, it's no big deal, really, I-"
"Alexander, did you steal him? Did you steal your Brother from that orphanage? Oh my god."

"... I'm getting that house you rent out in New York when I'm eighteen, aren't I? He can live with me, you've just go to deal with him for a couple months and then we're both out of your hair. Dunno what the point was in adopting me if you weren't gonna 'dopt him anyways."

"We didn't adopt him because neither of us have the means or capacity to look after a handicapped child. You know that, Alex. Doesn't he need crutches? Where are they? Does he know how to talk, can he talk? Or is he one of those mute autistics?"

"Autistic? Does that mean he's a schizophrenic?"

"No, no, no, it's not like that, it's. God, I'm never going to get through to either of you- plus, he's not a child anyways, he's what, fourteen? Fifteen? God, uh, Scotty, c'mon, wake up."

"M.. Washup.. Huh?"

When he opened his eyes, he saw a man who looked stern. No other descriptor to him- Hands crossed over his chest, 5'o clock shadow, thinning hair, a larger build, wearing checkered pajamas and a blue robe. Next to him was a woman, wearing similar clothing, who was very much a 'woman on the eighties', that's for sure. Gaunt looking face, hair up in rollers and an overall authoritarian air to her.

Was this a dream? Was he still asleep? This had to be a dream. But, it couldn't be. He was awake, he could feel, touch, smell. But, just to be sure... He punched Alex lightly on the arm, getting an "Ow! What the-? What was that for?" out of the older.

"Oh god, look at him, he's violent. You've let a violent autistic into our house, Alex." The woman proclaimed, getting uncomfortably close to the two brothers "Your sister would never do this. Ever."

Scott was just perplexed at this point, Alex rushing to cover his brother's ears from the awful things Alex's 'family' was saying, but Scott didn't care. What were they even on about? Schizophrenia? Scott didn't have schizophrenia. Where was he?

"Who are you people?" He sat up, pulling himself away from Alex who suddenly seemed like no more than a complete stranger. This wasn't the Alex he remembered, it was Alex but.. he was older. He was older and he was impossibly bigger than Scott was- at least 6'3, compared to Scott's current 5'4- and Scott's mind and memory issues were messing with him too much to remember this young man as indeed being his brother. "What the heck? Where-"

The man continued standing there, and the woman knelt down in front of Scott, faking a rather hate-filled smile. "Hello there, um, Scott? Is your name Scott? Can you talk? I am Mrs. Blanding, can you say that? Misssserrss Blaaand-ing."

Scott just blinked his eyes and stared back at her, confusion was the only thing he was feeling right now, that's for sure. "What the hell is this?"

"Oh gosh." she quieted her voice to a whisper, breathing through her nose.

Scott stood up, and backed up against the wall, terrified, that's for sure. But.. also not. This was such a bizarre situation. Very, very bizarre. Were the police after him? They had to be after him if he'd been kidnapped from the orphanage in the night. Was he still even in Illinois? Goddamn if this didn't seem like a dream.

Scott was awoken early in the morning by a phone call from a man named Charles Xaiver.

Not a phone call for him, it was a call for his Brother, Scott didn't hear much of it, some legal mumbojumbo about how this Charles guy had done some digging and found a way for Alex to technically be Scott's legal guardian, by Charles now being Scott's legal guardian despite Scott never having met the man in his life, and for guardianship to switch over to Alex the moment he turned eighteen years old- which was in a month or so.

This, of course, did not sit well with Alex's parents. Every dinner was silent and filled with tension. Scott's random bouts of tics wouldn't help these situations, and once he was enrolled in the local High School, his failing grades right from the get go didn't help, either. Scott hated school. He'd always, always, always hated school.

Alex hated his adoptive parents, it wasn't so much that he hated them, as much as he hated the kind of people they were- uppity middle-middle class types, thinks anyone that isn't them is strange, keeps three bottles of wine in a rack underneath the coffee table that never gets opened except to wash away the depression of their dreams going down the toilet. Those kinds of people. The exact type he didn't get along with and clashed with everything about him. But, he dealt with it.

Even with Alex, who had always excelled in schoolwork save a few certain subjects, helping him, Scott still managed to fail, which Alex didn't mind to help him except for Scott seemed so distant and odd towards him that he wouldn't even write in the answers Alex would tell him. It was like he didn't consider Alex his Brother anymore.. which Scott didn't really. It wasn't that he hated Alex, or he was mad at him or anything like that, or even that it was on purpose, but with the drastic changes that came with growing up Scott barely recognized him and it wasn't the Alex he knew anymore but also he was the Alex he knew and Scott was really, really having a hard time dealing with the whole situation.

The next month and a two weeks and four days was the longest of Scott's life, a constant stream of arguments and vague insults from Alex's parents, having to see Alex get whacked across the face multiple times among other things because he wanted so so badly for Scott to stay, having to deal with containing his Tourette's in school, having to deal with the strange and sudden problems.. with.. his eyes.

They'd itch.

Scott's eyes would itch, very, very, very, badly. A burning kind of itch, as if he'd just got chili on his hand then went to rub his eyes. Sometimes it'd just straight up sting like someone was jamming a needle into them from inside his skull. He hated it.

It was a very much on and off thing, though. Very much so. Sometimes he'd go a full week with his eyes red and itchy, sometimes it'd happen once a day for ten minutes, he even at a point got lucky enough for it to completely stop. Boy, was Scott relieved!

Two days after Alex's eighteenth birthday, Alex collected the keys to his newfound home and three months later stuffed all his worldly possessions into the back of his 1983 Mazda 323, and decided this was going to be the next step in his life. Of course, his little brother would be coming along with him. Scott didn't own much outside of a record player, five records and a duffel bag full of clothing and a teddy bear which Alex had luckily snagged while in the process of, as Alex liked to put it 'taking Scott back', so luckily the load on the car wasn't too much. The mattress tied rather distastefully to the top of the car didn't look the best, though.

And so, off they went. Off down the highway, stopping at McDonald's, and then onto their journey to New York.

It was a twelve hour drive, almost thirteen hours counting traffic, adding up to fourteen counting the constant stops to look at whatever interesting things they saw along the way. Scott's favourite was a mysterious billboard in the middle of a field that had been half torn apart or something like that so it just said "PEP".

It was a single story house in Westchester County, in the Brewster area, about a fifteen to twenty minute drive away from the place Alex went once or twice a month. Scott didn't know much about it save that he had some friends there. Good friends.

Alex's adoptive parents had previously rented this house out, but, wanting Alex out of their hair and not wanting to have to deal with fixing up the place anymore, they passed it onto him, and as Scott and Alex walked through the doors they knew this place was theirs to do as they please and not have to deal with bad parents or tragedy or anything of the sort. It was rather empty, though. Fading yellow wallpaper, the only furniture a couch, a rather outdated television- looked late seventies or early eighties-, a couple of bar stools, a fridge, and a halogen floor lamp. Not exactly a palace. They made themselves at home very fast.

In the early July of 1988, with Alex now 19 years old and Scott just a few months or so shy of 16, it started again. His eyes itching, that is. Even worse than before. On the very same day, however, Alexander Summers also received his first piece of mail, he expected it to be a bill, really. With an exhausted and somewhat excited demeanor, he pried open the envelope.

It was from a law firm.

Oh no. Alex thought. Are my earlier teenage years coming back to haunt me?

Far from it. Upon further inspection he found out that his adoptive grandparents, who had grown rather fond of him, had passed away unfortunately, and Alexander Christopher Blanding Summers had inherited the grand sum of...

" $1,005,000.000 "

Alex was in shock- Good shock. Hands shaking, he called out;

"SCOTT, we're RICH."

Meanwhile though, despite the money, Scott was rather miserable. His eyes itched and stung so badly that Scott at points couldn't keep his eyes open for long. Alex took him to a doctor. They tried everything. Nothing worked. There was just something 'seriously wrong with my eyes', as Scott would put it.

Over the month it would get worse and worse and worse and worse, until one day Scott couldn't open his eyes whatsoever. It hurt. The brightness of everything hurt as if his eyes were being pushed. Immense pressure that he didn't know what to do about. Alex pulled Scott out of school.

Scott didn't do anything. He lay on his bed in his room and he cried, and he wished and wished and wished it would stop. But it didn't stop. Alex would sit in his room with him, lay a hand on his head, and wait there with him until it stopped enough that Scott could listen to the radio or even just sleep.

"Fifteen years old, and my life's already ruined, huh, bro."

"Hey, Scott, don't speak like that. I'm sure it'll pass. Yeah?"

"Sure it will. When pigs fly."

Alex bit his lip. He hadn't really considered the possibility of Scott having a 'problem' like his own yet. Problem as in powers. Mutant powers. Being a mutant. But that possibility was suddenly looking very real, considering the lengths of what Scott was going through. Headaches, dizziness, all his other problems being immediately escalated. It was especially bad when Scott would just.. drop, and sort of have a freak out -for lack of a better description- for a few seconds and then get up again fine. All these, he'd heard from Charles, were symptoms of mutant powers emerging, but, considering Scott's brain damage and other issues it could be anything.

Alex let out a prolonged sigh, and checked his watch.

"This works things at 6pm, Scotty, and it's 4pm now.. take's me a couple hours to get there so. I should probably leave soon. Will you be okay on your own do you think? I'll bring home some Burger King or something on my way back, what do you want?"

"Nothing."

"Chicken nuggets it is."

"Okay."

"Okay. Maybe just try take a nap while I'm gone or something, yeah? I'll be back before you know it. I'm leaving the front light on for when I get home so try avoid the front end of the house." Alex ruffled Scott's hair and stood up, slapping on his Security Guard's hat. "See ya."

"Bye."

One day , Alex came home from 'work', as he had always called it. Scott heard the usual gentle open of the door, but didn't expect the harsh slam that followed a moment afterwards. Next thing Scott knew, he could hear quiet sobbing coming from the living room couch. "Stupid bastard. How could you get distracted like that?"' "Gone. Gone. Gone. All gone."

Unbeknownst to Scott, Alex had just lost most if not all of who he considered to be his best friends in the world. Erik left, as did Raven, and Angel. Darwin was dead. And worst of all, he lost the worst thing he could have that day.

Sean.

But it was a strange feeling, almost like Alex had a weird sense that something was very very wrong with how Sean 'died' supposedly. Alex vividly remembers carrying his body off the beach, back to that damn Quinjet, holding his head in his lap all the way to the school. Begging Charles and Hank to just help him the best they could.

Then after that he doesn't remember seeing Sean at all. In fact, if Alex were to look back on it in a few years time- five or ten- he'd find this entire night and day and week seemed so foggy it was as if it never happened, but, for now, let's assume that it did.

Scott grabs his safety blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders he exits the bedroom, and walks into the living room. "Ah - Alex?" he asks, rubbing his eyes.

Alex whips around wildly, quickly going back to sitting normally and wiping the tears from his cheeks quickly. He plasters on a faux grin just for effect. "Hey! Hey Scotty! C'mere!" He pushes down the guilt and pain he's feeling as best he can. "How're your eyes feelin'? You feel any better?" He has to cover up the loss with something happy.

Scott will always bring him a light at the end of the tunnel.

"No, butI'm fine. You were obviously upset, Alex. I heard you, what's wrong.. what happened?" He yawns , "I'm worried about you."

Alex almost feels his heart burst in two. He can't tell Scott, he barely just met these people. Scott's seen enough death so far, thinks Alex. Between seeing Robyn die and seeing that Nathan kid kill himself, friend or not; that messes a kid up.

"I think I hit a deer or somethin' on my way home, bro. That's all. Jus' wasn't lookin' for a minute and then," Alex imitates a bumping motion with his hands. "Anyhow, are you hungry? What do you wanna get for dinner?"

"Bro."

"I'll make you something then? Or if you want I can run to -"

"Bro."

"Do you want McDonalds? You can have a milkshake ! Do you-"

"Bro."

"Yeah?"

"It's 3 am."

"Holy shit, what happened here?"

"I don't know."

"God, my poor sofa.. Oh well, a dime a dozen.. uh, Scott?"
"Yes?"
"What happened here? Tell me. I know you know."

"I, I was getting a drink, and my eyes, they, I don't know. I can't open them. It was just red and I got, thrown back and, I can't open my eyes Alex, it'll happen again if I open 'em, uh,"

"Ssh, calm down Scott, hang on, keep your eyes closed but I'm going to check out the back of your head okay? If you got thrown or whatever you may've hurt yourself. C'mon."

"Bad?"

"No, not bad, you'll be fine. So you can't open your eyes, huh? What exactly happens if you open them?"

"I don't know, I'm not doing that."

"Why not?"

That conversation seemed to echo in Scott's head every day. It very much marked the beginning of the end in his mind.

Here he was, already riddled with problems and issues and bullshit galore, and now, just to make sure things were that little bit more miserable for him, he had laser eyes. Uncontrollable beams of god knows what that'd take out a city block if he dared even blink, and with no way of stopping it.

He's sitting on a cold metal bench, in a cold metal room in what was apparently someone's basement. He hears people talking, one his brother, one a somewhat refined yet gravelly voice he doesn't know. He feels a fur-like texture brush on him, he flinches, he feels the bandage around his eyes slowly unravel.

"Open your eyes, Scotty. It's okay."

"No."

"C'mon, Scott. It's okay."

"No, listen, Alex, I'm sure you think you 'get it' or whatever but-"

"Don't go there, Scott. Do it."

He reluctantly opens his eyes, and almost falls off the bench he's sitting on when he realizes that he can see. He could see... without causing destruction! He rushes to gain his composure and begins pawing at his face. Glasses.

Scott looks around. He sees someone he immediately recognizes; Alex's friend Hank - He'd met him a few times in the past- and Alex standing to his left, next to a little cart-shelf on wheels filled with various.. boxes. Green? Are those green? Oh my god , Scott thought, Everything is red.

Alex chuckles, watching his Little Brother's expression of delight, but it quickly turned sour, and Alex frowned. Scott just kind of looked concerned most of the time anyways, so Alex shrugged it off and in a chipper tune asked; "So, Scott, you glad to be finally seeing again?"

"Do I have to wear these forever?"

Alex's mood dropped. This was the question he'd been dreading in regards to this. Hank stayed quiet and turned around, pretending to be busy.

"W-Well.. Scott, you're glad to not like, see, and have like, y'know.. that problem, right?"

"Bro, it's all red I.. I'd rather be blind it's- all red."

"Scott, if you're being enrolled here, you're gonna have to be able to see."

"I'd rather be blind- I don't want to be here."

"Scott, you asked to be enrolled here in the first place. And trust me, it'll be worth it. You can control that.. problem, and maybe even put it to good use? Huh? Be like your Big Brother?"

"It isn't like it's useful. At all. Stop pretending that it is, Alex. I..."

A heavy sigh escapes Scott's lips, and he stands up.

"Yeah. I'll deal with it. I'll do this fine. Yeah."

Alex walks towards Scott, and pats him on the back, handing him his duffel bag full of clothing Alex had brought with him, preparing to walk away with him, but Hank quickly put a hand to Alex's shoulder, signalling for him to stay behind.

"Go on bro, up to your room. It's the one on the second floor, on the left. Okay? Find Charles, he's uh, he's in the wheelchair. You'll know his voice. He'll help you out, alright? I'll be up in a minute."

Alex walks towards Hank and the two huddle together, Hank beginning to speak in a much quieter tone;

"Alex, you remember your time with First Class, correct?"
"No shit I do, Hank, that was barley two years ago."

"Well.. anyway, all details aside, Xaiver's starting a new group, and.. Scott seems like a good candidate."

"No way. I'm not letting him get hurt. Nooo way, dude."

"Alex, he obviously needs structure and order. And his self esteem is obviously dirt low."

"Doesn't change anything."

"Alex, it'd help.. plus, Charles thinks.. let's say he's the first on our shortlist for potential leaders. That'd be a great opportunity for him."

This piqued Alex's interest.

"I mean.. in the end, I guess it's Scott's decision. Not mine. Y' throwin' around any name ideas?"

"We're thinking...

The X-Men."