Thanks to Foreststar of WindClan, ladygris, ellie, feathered moon wings (x2!), and hippiechick2112 for reviewing!

About Chris Summers' profession-before the Air Force, US military pilots were part of the Army. (They still wore those snazzy bomber jackets that Chris is DEFINITELY not vain about.)

On Saturday morning, Ruth dropped her laundry into the machine. "Remind me to nag the kids about this later," she remarked. Mostly she meant Ororo; no one needed to remind Scott about hygienic issues.

Hank nodded. "Yes, ma'am." He tossed his laundry on top of hers. Ruth didn't have a lot of clothes and didn't like to run the washing machine half-full, so she had asked Hank if he had dirty laundry. (When she stopped chuckling, he had said yes, a little sheepishly.)

"Coming to the show?" she asked.

"Wouldn't miss it."

Hank leapt out of the laundry room. They had not replaced the door after Alex slashed it, giving Hank an easy path to the opposite wall. As he literally bounced off the walls, Ruth ran through the halls. Hank could have raced her directly, but this way was more fun. They had never raced at full speed, enjoying the competition more than winning.

Ruth dropped back, letting Hank open the door before leaping through it.

Scott and Ororo sat on the porch. They had been waiting for Ruth. Now that she was here, Scott commented, "I know she's showing off, but our mom is so groovy."

"Your mom is groovetacular," Hank commented.

Scott glanced at him and they high-fived.

Ororo mouthed 'squares' and drew the appropriate shape in the air.

"Enough time wasting!" Ruth called. She motion Ororo and Scott over. She had a bucket of what looked like water balloons at her feet.

"Ororo, we will need a cyclone."

Ororo grinned. She lifted her hands, guiding the wind.

"A little one," Ruth added.

"Aaw!" but Ororo created a small cyclone nonetheless.

Testing it, Ruth lobbed a water balloon into the wind. It dipped low before steadying and Ruth tossed four more balloons.

"Scott," Ruth said. She motioned to the balloons.

He zapped the first one. Although Scott could not see color, he understood that the cyclone had turned much darker than it should.

"Mom?"

"Well, water is boring," she said. "It is food coloring. Go on."

He popped another balloon and another, but now Ororo retaliated by making the cyclone smaller and shorter. The water concentrated and Scott struggled to locate the balloons within the cyclone.

Ororo giggled as Scott's optic blasts went straight through the cyclone. Some water splashed to the ground, but the balloons remained intact.

Scott looked to Ruth, but she gave no indication of what he was supposed to do. He looked back to Ororo, whose cyclone remained. They were not graded on training sessions, but he understood that he was meant to do his best. If he stopped now, that was just giving up.

Failing was one thing.

He was not about to quit.

After a moment's thought, Scott turned away from the cyclone. Instead he blasted the ground, sending grass and dirt flying at Ororo. It distracted her enough that the cyclone slowed. As the last two balloons plummeted to the ground, Scott blasted one. The second he hit just about as it reached the ground.

"Nicely done," Ruth said.

Ororo huffed.

"Now we will try something more complicated…"

Chris watched the display with interest. He still had not seen Alex's powers and didn't want to push the matter, but he was curious. Hank had said that Alex and Matthew had similar powers—and now Chris saw why Matthew always wore those sunglasses. There must have been a difference, of course, since Alex looked normal.

Since Alex was both working and reluctant to discuss his powers, Chris tried speaking with Matthew about it hat afternoon.. He wasn't precisely seeking the boy out. He simply happened to wander into the kitchen when Matthew was there making himself a sandwich.

"That was an impressive display this morning."

Matthew had not looked up when Chris entered the kitchen and didn't look up now. "Thanks, Mr. Summers."

"What are your powers, exactly?"

"Optic blasts." Matthew dropped the knife in the sink and picked up his sandwich. "Excuse me."

Chris watched him, trying to discern precisely what he saw in the boy. It wasn't fear, but it was close. "Are you still angry about the other night?" He didn't know why Matthew should be angry, but it was all he could think of. "I don't—"

"It's not that." Matthew looked at him—definitely fear. Something else, too, bruising under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. He hadn't, not through the night anyway. Nor had anyone else. "I just—excuse me, I need to study."

Chris couldn't make sense of that kid. As he headed back to his ship, he wondered what he could do to make this better. Being human in other galaxies made him a perpetual guest. So Chris made a point to ingratiate himself where possible and only upset people if it was necessary (or really, really funny). This was Matthew's home and Chris clearly made him uncomfortable, but he was not sure why. Nevertheless, as the adult, he wanted to do something.

"Hi, Chris."

Ororo was perched on top of the ship, waving.

"Good afternoon. Those were some impressive tornadoes this morning!"

"Thanks!"

Chris headed into the ship, leaving the access panel open. There was more than just repairing the ship to worry about, but he would think about that another time.

He was tinkering with minor controls when he heard footsteps on the roof.

"Hey, Blondie."

"Go away, Sc—."

The conversation was muffled for a while, then he asked, "What's going on with you? You're not yourself lately."

"I don't know. I just feel weird."

"And cranky."

They laughed.

"I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"I don't think you're supposed to apologize for nightmares."

"Yeah, but still. If there's anything I can do…"

"Who said it was your job to look after me, anyway?" Ororo asked.

"I'm your big brother. Who needs to say it?"

"Anyway, it's just weird feelings. And tampon stuff."

"Aaw, gross! C'mon, don't make me hear about that!"

"Hear about it? No one's asking you to shove one up your—"

"Okay, okay! Jeez."

"Are you okay?"

"You mean 'cause you mentioned… that?"

"I mean because you have your panic attacks every night."

"They're not panic attacks. They're just bad dreams. And it's not every night."

It was most nights.

"Whatever you say, Matthew. But you never had them before. So how's the math homework?"

"Not too bad, actually. Hank's helping me, and I like geometry. It's nothing like algebra…"

Chris tried not to listen in on their conversation. They were on top of his ship, but surely not thinking to be overheard. Pretty soon they were talking about geometry and Dracula like normal kids, anyway—nothing to listen in on.

After a while, Matthew left and Ororo returned to her game of leaping from the ship to the ground. She was still doing that when Ruth came to visit.

"Come in, come in. It's a short-term personal transport," Chris said, "so quarters are a little cramped."

There was only the thinnest film of apology coating his tone as Ruth followed him into the ship.

He had not been lying. They just had enough room to stand.

"And you are sorry for this," she said in a tone he was coming to recognize as sarcasm.

"Well I can't deny that I appreciate the closeness of a beautiful woman."

Ruth laughed. "What is it they say in this country? 'Keep it in your pants'?"

"Ah, but you don't mind."

"True," she agreed. "If I minded I would snap something off."

Chris raised his eyebrows. He had met some women in his time who were physically or emotionally strong, and some who were defensive. He had no doubt that Ruth fell into the first category. As to the second…

"Are we still flirting?"

"We are flirting," she assured him. "It is a game, but we are still playing, yes."

"What a relief. I wouldn't want to upset you; I've seen you teaching martial arts. It's not a form I recognize, by the way."

"This is krav maga," Ruth supplied. "I do not teach real krav maga, though. Charles would not like it."

"Oh?"

"In true krav maga, it is anything goes. No off-limits—eyes, groin—because it is… when I learned, they told us we are David before Goliath. Survival is not for honor."

"I think you are honorable."

"I agree, and I am unbiased!"

Chris chuckled. "Are all women this extraordinary, where you come from?"

"Israeli culture is… not like American culture… but even there I am different. This is okay in Israel, though. Much more than in America."

"I see. And Israel is…?"

"In your day, Palestine."

"The British gave up Palestine?"

"Palestine is not India, the British were here as a League of Nations mandate. Although the British have lost India, too, there is little Empire left."

The two chatted about world history for a while, Chris learning of just how much had changed since he left. Not only had borders changed, here in the United States people were struggling for change, too. She told him the basics of the Civil Rights movement.

"May I ask a personal question?" Chris asked.

"Yes, of course. I may not answer."

"What's it like to raise Ororo and Matthew?"

Suddenly the ship seemed much smaller and more enclosed, even as they heard someone climbing on top of it.

"You are asking how an unmarried man and woman have two children who love them, who are not theirs by birth and do not look like one another. Is this correct?"

He nodded. "Well, yes. And…"

"How they think they are brother and sister when skin color means so much to the rest of the world?"

"Also that," Chris allowed, though he was more concerned with how people could build that sort of love.

"We have luck. He started looking after her the day she arrived. Which she did not need," Ruth admitted, "but I think sometimes appreciated anyway."

From the roof came the sound of running feet, then the sound of a thump on the ground. And then, once more, climbing.

"Why did you adopt him but not her?"

"Technically, I did not adopt him. Charles and I are not married, it was complicated, so he is Matthew's adoptive father and we are both Ororo's foster parents."

She left out that Ororo's placement had been telepathically influenced. Scott was in the state foster system in Omaha, a runaway in New York. A few bribes were all it took. But Ororo was in a Catholic orphanage, run by people who believed a good home was a Catholic home. No amount of bribery would have convinced them that two unmarried people, an atheist and a Jew, were suitable parents.

"Ororo is… they are very strong children, but in different ways. Ororo is independent. She will always take care of herself. Matthew is not like this. They needed different things. For her, this is enough. He needs family."

Chris nodded. "But they're both your children."

"Yes, because I love them and I take care of them and this is what matters. But I think your curiosity is more about personal current events, no?"

"It's difficult, with Alex," Chris admitted. "I—"

A yelp interrupted him and Ruth was gone so quickly, he was a little confused. He had never truly stopped being a warrior. After he left the war behind on Earth, he waged a new one against the Shi'ar. His reflexes were good; he was observant.

She just… blurred and disappeared.

Chris followed and immediately knew what had happened. Ororo had been jumping off his ship. This time she landed too hard, or wrong—whatever happened, she was whimpering and cradling her arm.