It was three in the morning, and once again, Alex Summers could not sleep.

If anyone else were awake to ask, he would tell them that his day-long nap had messed with his (non-existent) sleep-cycle; and perhaps that did have something to do with it. But if he were to be more honest, he would admit that he simply could not shut down his brain.

Sean was right.

No matter what Alex's guilty conscious wanted, painting himself as the bad guy in this situation didn't help anyone. He didn't want to be forgiven – he knew that that was more than he could ever deserve – and he would never be able to forget (again), but he had to think of what was best for Scott.

The more that Alex learned of what Scott had been through, the more that he realised just how strange the instant trust on their first meeting had been. Scott had been raised in a hostile environment, his only caregiver an obsessive man who saw him as a commodity, not a person. He had never had a friend, never had a family. No one had ever shown him a kindness that wasn't motivated by ill intentions. But while blind and essentially helpless, Scott had trusted Alex. And that trust had allowed Scott to feel comfortable and safe, and gradually led to him trying to make friends on his own.

Even as young and resilient as he was, it was amazing how well Scott had adjusted in such a short amount of time.

But then Alex had turned around and betrayed him. Pulled the rug right out from under him and shattered the foundations on which Scott was building. Already he was becoming withdrawn and distant again; refusing to even talk to the other kids that he had been playing with just the day before, and staying as far away Alex and the others as he could.

And it was Alex's fault. How could he have told Scott that he had simply forgotten about him? As true as it was, it was heartless and cold. It made it sound as if Scott was unimportant and insignificant enough to be so easily cast aside. That the one person that he had trusted to care for him didn't actually care enough to even remember him.

Alex had wanted the blame to land squarely on him, felt that he warranted it for what he had done. He wanted to punish himself, just like Sean had accused him of. Once again, he was too wrapped up in himself to realise just who he was really hurting.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, and more than a little self-loathing, Alex kicked the side of the counter. His bare toes throbbed at his own stupidity, but it was better than accidentally burning the place down with his unstable powers. He had found himself in the kitchen again, perched on the same stool as before and staring into the glass of water that he would use as an excuse if anyone sought him out again.

It was time to let go of the past. Alex had always thought that he was good at that. He had never truly mourned his parents, too busy looking for a brother that he would later believe didn't exist. He had walked through life with a kind of apathy, unable to really care about anything or anyone – holding everyone at arm's length and believing himself to be on his own. But it was Scott that was truly alone. No matter how Alex felt or what he believed that he deserved, what Scott needed was more important.

That was what being a big brother was supposed to mean.

Alex needed to talk to Scott, properly this time. Scott needed to know that Alex forgetting about him wasn't voluntary; that his big brother really had tried to find him. That Alex was a victim of Essex too.

It was a child that had let Scott down. A kid that had made mistakes in a situation that he couldn't hope to understand. But Alex was sixteen now. A soldier. An X-man. Hell, he was practically the field commander of their little team. He could protect Scott now. They knew who the enemy was, and this time they wouldn't be facing him alone.

He couldn't change the past. Couldn't erase the past seven years or the scars that they had left behind on his little brother. But Sean was right. Alex had found Scott. That was what mattered now.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Alex tested quietly in the silence of the kitchen. "But I'm here now."

Taking a deep breath, Alex slid off the stool and ditched his untouched glass by the sink. It was still ungodly o'clock in the morning and there wasn't a chance that he would ever get to sleep, but he could probably fake it at least until the sun actually rose. The Professor had offered to help him sleep again, but just the thought of a telepath going anywhere near his mind had a headache forming right behind his eyes. Besides, he didn't want to lose another day – he had already lost enough time with Scott.

The manor house was eerily quiet as Alex padded softly through the halls; the near year that he had spent there preventing him from getting lost even in the dark. It was just as he was climbing the last set of stairs that a scream cut through the night.

Alex froze. A lot of the younger (and older) kids had bad nightmares; the places that they had been found in before coming to the school enough to fuel night terrors for a lifetime – but the scream hadn't sounded like the cries that Alex had heard before. It was laced with the fear of something real, not the shadow of monsters faced before.

Without another thought, Alex raced back down the stairs, running down the corridor towards the younger student dorms. He could just make out the sound of muffled voices and booted feet; children whimpering and the rustle of a struggle. It didn't seem possible, not in the safety of the school, but somehow Alex knew that strangers were in their home. His hands curled into fists, the heat of his power warming his chest as he sprinted down the last hallway.

"Let her go!" Scott's familiar voice shouted, followed by a growl that most likely belonged to Rahne. Alex could just make out shadows backlit by moonlight before a slap was followed by the sound of something small hitting the carpet. "No!"

Red light lit up the corridor, the powerful beam ploughing along the tops of the doorways before cutting off as Scott shut his eyes.

The dark that followed the sudden brightness was absolute, but Alex had seen what he needed to. Several men, wearing black and armed at least with guns, filled the hallway. Some of the bedroom doors had been opened, their occupants now lying in the corridor (hopefully only unconscious, Alex hadn't seen any blood). One of the men was carrying a limp Clarice while two more were holding back Scott and Rahne who had been trying to fight back, until one of them had slapped the glasses from Scott's face.

Anger wanted to bring Alex's powers to action, but luckily, he had enough control to hold back. He couldn't risk hitting the kids, so instead Alex broke into a dead run towards where he had last seen the man holding Scott. He dropped his shoulders and caught the man in the side with a rough tackle, dragging all three of them to the ground. He punched the man in the temple to keep him down before grabbing Scott under the arms and lifting him up.

"It's me," Alex said as Scott gave a frightened cry and kicked out blindly. Alex set him on his feet and put his back to the wall. "Stay."

He didn't have time to check if Scott would do as he was told, as much as he wanted to. His element of surprise was gone, the other kids were still in danger, and the men were quick to recognise him as a threat. Alex kept moving, kicking at the knee of the man holding Rahne, just as the young feral sunk her sharp teeth into the man's arm. He shouted and let her go, leaving him open for Alex to jab him hard in the throat. Rahne shot past Alex, ducking to pick up Scott's glasses before running to join him.

More of the kids were coming out of their rooms to see what all the commotion was, the situation quickly spiralling into chaos. The Professor must have picked up on all their fear and distress by now, which meant that it wouldn't be long before Alex had back-up. He just had to keep the kids safe until then.

The man holding Clarice had dropped her in favour of bringing his weapon to hand, leaving Alex barely a second to duck as the gun was sighted and fired. Alex hardly registered the odd noise that the weapon made as he grabbed the barrel and twisted hard, breaking the man's fingers. He followed through with a left hook that sent the man sprawling, just missing Clarice who was at risk of being trampled where she had been abandoned on the floor.

Alex grabbed Clarice around the waist and passed her onto an unsuspecting kid who had just opened his bedroom door. The boy caught Clarice automatically, eyes widening in fear and shock at the sight that greeted him. Alex gave his shoulder a shove. "That way! Go!" he ordered, garnering the attention of the other shell-shocked children. "Everyone! Go!"

A punch to the jaw reminded Alex that he was vastly outnumbered and still couldn't use his powers while the kids were in the line of fire. At least they were moving now, a couple of the older kids even going back to pick up the unconscious ones and getting them to safety, allowing Alex to focus more on the fight. But his back-up still needed to hurry the hell up.

Alex repaid the punch in kind, but now all of the attention was on him. The remaining men converged, one of them catching his fist and twisting his arm hard behind his back. The bullet wound in his shoulder (not as healed as Alex had claimed) screamed at the mistreatment, pain shooting all the way to his fingertips. Another man punched Alex hard in the gut, forcing out a shout of pain and a stomach full of bile.

When Alex looked up, the taste still bitter on his tongue, he found the barrel of a gun aimed at his chest. There wasn't time to do anything before it was fired at point blank range.

Somehow, he didn't end up dead.

Alex gasped in a shuddery breath, his lungs expanding despite the fact that he had just been shot. His chest burned like that one time that Hank had used Alex to test out some lightweight armour that he was experimenting with; more bruising than the tearing of the now familiar pain of a bullet. Alex's head drooped with sudden exhaustion, his vision greying at the edges as his eyes fell on the dart protruding through his night shirt. Tranquiliser.

"That is not the model I asked for," a voice cut through the fog in Alex's head. His heart beat double time in his chest as a panic Alex couldn't identify constricted his breaths. Flashes of trees – the stark whiteness of a hospital – pain. Fear. I do not tolerate disobedience, Alex. "Where is the boy?"

Scott. Alex didn't know how or where the certainty came from, but he knew without a doubt that the voice belonged to the man who had taken Scott. The man who had controlled Scott's life, messed with his powers, isolated him in a lab and run his sick experiments on a child. The man who had torn the memory of his little brother from Alex's mind.

The rage boiled into uncontrollable heat, the red energy called into life and spiralling around Alex without conscious thought. The wild lashes whipped outwards, tearing through brick and plaster just as easily as flesh and bone. The smell of burning filled the corridor.

Without the two men to hold him up, Alex sagged to his hands and knees, the tranquiliser dulling his senses. There was a dismembered arm at the edge of his blurring vision, and Alex's stomach turned.

He had killed again.

"Well, this is unexpected."

Alex lifted his head and glared up at Nathaniel Essex. He stood entirely unscathed between two smouldering scorch marks gouged in the wall. He wore a grey business suit and immaculate dress shoes. If it weren't for the red and black eyes he would have looked like a high-end lawyer, grinning at Alex like a snake. "I had wondered where you had gotten to Alexander. I never imagined you would be so easy to find once the CIA had their hooks in you."

There were still seven men left, plus Essex. Alex stared at them all, panting hard as he tried to control his anger and think logically. Hank and Sean had to be on their way by now. It felt like it had been hours, but it had probably only been a few minutes since Alex had leapt into the fight. Even if they had stopped to check on the kids running their way, they should only be another minute or so at most. They could handle the men.

But Essex? Alex wanted to kill him. Essex would never get anywhere near Scott again.

Essex smirked as if reading his mind. Alex realised that he most likely was. Screw control. Alex staggered to his feet. His power came to life like a raging inferno; more heat and more strength than Alex had ever felt before circling around him. It flew from his tenuous grasp as if it had a life of its own, blasting outwards like he was the epicentre of an explosion. Alex tried to give it direction, to throw all of his power at Essex, but the energy kicked like an unruly animal.

At least three of the men were caught in the backlash; one them left staring at a stump where their hand used to be, the other two unconscious from where they had been knocked head first into the wood panelling. The carpet was on fire, quickly spreading and filling the air with smoke.

The remaining men were looking at Alex in fear. Their fingers were on their triggers in seconds, three more darts embedding deep into his thigh and stomach and flooding his body with sedative. Alex fell to his knees and then on to his side, heavy with drugged exhaustion.

"As impressive as I knew you would be," Essex praised. His suit was no longer pristine and his right ear was missing. He batted absently at the flames on his sleeve. "But still not quite ready. Now, where is young Scott? He and I still have some work to do."

"Alex!" Hank shouted in warning, giving Alex about two seconds to cover his ears before Sean lived up to his codename. The high-pitched wail echoed down the hallway, shattering light fittings and cracking picture frames that had somehow managed to survive the growing fire. The remaining men shouted in pain, but not all of them dropped. One of them got their hands on their gun, cutting Sean off with a surprised grunt.

Alex looked up blearily as Hank bounded past him. He coughed as he breathed in the smoke, feeling detached and foggy. Sean was on the ground, a dart sticking out of his neck. Hank was beating up the last of the men and Essex… Essex was staring past it all, down the corridor that Alex had sent the kids.

Where he had sent Scott.

"Ah, there you are," Essex smiled. "Come along now, Scott."

Alex struggled to move, pushing himself onto his elbows as he looked back at his little brother. Scott was stood at the end of hallway, his hair sticking up with bed head and his glasses sitting wonky on his nose. His skin was white, colourless with fear, his breath coming in short pants and his hands shaking where they were curled in fists by his sides. He looked so damn young. Absolutely terrified. And facing his worst nightmare.

"No," Alex said, forcing himself onto his knees. Hank took down the last of Essex's men with a well-placed punch, turning to face Essex with a threatening growl. The world was warping around Alex but he tried to call on his power anyway. I just got him back. "You can't have him."

Hank launched at Essex, claws extended and teeth bared. Essex simply raised a hand and made a gesture as if he were batting a fly, and abruptly Hank was flying the other way. He smacked hard into the wall, splintering the plaster and exposing the brickwork underneath, before falling to the floor with a thud.

And then Essex turned to face Alex, frowning impatiently. He made a choking gesture with a slightly charred hand, and suddenly Alex couldn't breathe. A presence wrapped around his throat, lifting him by the neck. And then he was whipped sideways, his head cracking the wall, and everything went black.

"I think that's quite enough of that."

Scott gasped as his brother went limp, the invisible grip on his throat releasing him and dumping him on the floor. Sean was unconscious from the dart in his neck, Hank was knocked out and Alex… Alex wasn't moving and there was blood soaking his face.

No. You can't have him.

Scott stood there, utterly frozen; shock, terror and shame fighting in his pounding heart. Alex had fought for him. A part of Scott always knew that he would, but Scott had been so mad at him. Said those horrible things. Wished that Alex had never told him that they were brothers. Denied ever having one in the first place. But Alex had still come running when Scott had shouted, pulling him away from the bad men who tried to take him. If Scott had stayed with the Professor and the others, he would have been safe.

"Scott, you know that I do not tolerate disobedience," Essex said warningly, taking a step towards him. Scott stumbled backwards. Distance. Distance was the key. Scott had learned that if you were far enough away, the doctor couldn't get into your head and control you. "Come here, Scott."

Scott shook his head desperately, his glasses shaking precariously on his nose. His eyes scanned the three unconscious teenagers. One of them had to wake up. Please. Alex.

"Must we really do this?" Essex asked, as if it were Scott causing him such an inconvenience, daring to defy his being kidnapped. Essex gestured offhandedly at Alex, and suddenly Alex was moving. His body was dragged across the floor, through the flames eating the carpet. They charred nothing more than his clothes, his power protecting him, but Scott still hissed in fear. Alex was pulled to standing like a puppet on strings. "Would you rather I take your brother instead? He did offer to take your place before after all. Do you think that it is Alexander's turn?"

Let him go, please. You can take me if you want but please, let Scotty go

Scott squeezed his eyes shut, his glasses slipping as tears spilled down his cheeks. "No!"

"No?" Essex repeated. Alex was propped in front of him like a shield, blood dripping on to his ash covered shirt. Essex slung a faux-friendly arm around his shoulders. "Didn't you two have a fight? Alexander here feels so terrible about it all. Forgetting all about you all this time. Abandoning you. I would have thought you'd have wanted him to have a taste of what you suffered."

"No!" Scott shouted, stepping forward, hand outstretched.

Essex smirked.

Ice water trickled down Scott's spine, his muscles turning leaden. No. His right foot moved. No. No. Left foot. Right foot.

Left foot.

NO!

Scott closed his eyes not wanting to see Essex getting closer, his feet moving clunkily as he was forcefully walked down the corridor. His broken glasses fell from his face, thumping on the carpet.

Scott opened his eyes.