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Jul 20 08 12:27 AM
//Continued from: Staff Kitchen//
Half supporting, half carrying his brother, Scott grunted as he turned the knob and lightly kicked the door open.
"Fuck you're heavy," he muttered as he took them inside and once again used his foot to close the door.
Crossing the room to the bed, he gracelessly dumped his brother on the edge of the large bed. He then bent down, picked
up Alex's legs and tossed them on as well. "I hope you realize just how much you're going to have to kiss
my ass for this," he said as he starting undoing Alex's shoes.
"Who the fuck wears tennis shoes in the middle of fucking winter," Scott muttered beneath another grunt as he managed to pull off a shoe. He dropped it unceremoniously on the floor, before moving on to the second, which followed shortly after. Moving back to head of the bed, he looked down at his mess of a brother. He looked like
shit and despite his adamant assurances that he wouldn't puke, Scott didn't want to take any chances. So he
quickly scouted around the bedroom, looking for a trashcan but coming up empty.
Sighing heavily, Scott crossed the guest room to the adjoining bath. He opened the door and flicked on the light,
immediately spotting the trash between the sink and the toilet. As he bent down to grab the bin, however, something in
the shower caught his attention. Momentarily forgetting the trash, he reached up and pulled the shower curtain aside.
"Son of a motherfucking bitch," he swore, his voice echoing loudly off the bathroom walls. Scott snatched the empty Smirnoff bottle of the shower ledge, his hands practically trembling with fury. He barely resisted smashing the bottle against the shower wall. But that wouldn't do
anything, save create another mess to be cleaned up.
Trashcan forgotten, Scott turned to the linen closet and under the sink cabinets. Without care or regard for Alex's
privacy or belongings, he pulled apart the bathroom, looking for the rest of the stash he was sure was hidden somewhere.
When he didn't find what he was looking for, he grabbed the trash and moved back into the room proper.
Fueled by anger and the alcohol in his system, he completely ignored his brother and went straight to the dresser.
First drawer was clean, but the second…the half full bottle of bourbon wasn't even hidden. It was simply
lying there as if it truly belonged next to the boxers.
Clenching both bottles and the trash, Scott turned back to the bed. His finger tapped rapidly against the half full
bottle of bourbon as he simply stood there and stared. He wanted so badly to yell and scream and holler, to chew his
brother a completely new ass. But what good would do. The asshole was so
fucking wasted he wouldn't remember half of it, if any, by morning. So, he simply stood there and looked with anger
pooling off him in waves.
Jul 20 08 2:41 AM
Jul 21 08 11:22 PM
When Scott didn't find what he was looking for in the bathroom, he grabbed the trash and moved back into
the room proper. Apparently his outburst in the other room hadn't gone unnoticed, as Alex was muttering and trying
unsuccessfully to prop himself up.
"'M awake, I c'n work. Up. I'm up." [Alex] got up on one shoulder and ran a hand through his hair. "Jus' gimme 'minute.
I'll be down in a sec."
Fueled by anger and the alcohol in his system, Scott ignored his brother and went straight to the dresser. First drawer
was clean, but in the second he found the half full bottle of bourbon. It wasn't hidden; it was simply lying there
next to the boxers. Clenching both bottles and the trash, Scott turned back to the bed.
His finger tapped rapidly against the half full bottle of bourbon as he simply stood there and stared, anger pooling off him in waves.
"Shh," [Alex] mumbled…Shrugging, Alex shut his eyes. "Y' wanna taste? G'head, but don' kill it. Need some t'morrow."
Scott snorted in disbelief, unable to believe that his brother had offered him the bottle as if it was perfectly acceptable for him to be stashing liquor in
his room. And he knew it was a double standard. Other faculty members kept
alcohol at the mansion, but they weren't alcoholics. Students hadn't broken into their offices and gotten
trashed. They hadn't snuck a flask into the winter dance and had it stolen by students. He hadn't covered their asses for having a said flask. Fuck, he was so furious he was
"Is there anymore?" he asked, trying to keep the anger out of his voice but failing. He didn't an answer,
but he had to ask. He hadn't checked the closet, hadn't checked the rest of the dresser, hadn't checked
under the bed, or in Alex's office. Setting the trash down next to the bed, with more force than necessary, he
looked once again at his mess of a brother. He'd known Alex had a problem, had known it before the day of the
winter dance. But fuck, he didn't realize just how bad this was. Going out
tonight wasn't the problem; they were only human. But the stash in the office, the almost nightly excursions to
Harry's, and now a stash in his room.
"Shit…" he muttered, his anger lessening slightly as it gave way to true concern. Jesus, he'd left the
kids with an alcoholic. Expected them to follow and trust a fucking drunk.
"Fuck!" he cursed louder this time as he started to pace in front of the bed, fingers still drumming incessantly against the bottle of
bourbon. He understood addiction, had lived through it himself. But he
hadn't been responsible for anyone but himself back then. So he couldn't compare the two. Or if he could the alcohol in his system wouldn't allow him.
"Don't you realize this is fucking important?" Scott shouted as he continued to pace. Then he stopped at
the foot of the bed, his cold expression bearing down on his brother. "If you fuck this up for these kids, I
swear…" He didn't finish, felt he didn't have, felt he shouldn't have to. If Alex couldn't guess the response, then he deserved what he had coming.
Jul 22 08 1:23 AM
//Continued from Xavier's Office, with a pitstop in Limbo//
Charles closed the door to his suite and turned his chair toward the elevator. He was in his pajamas and a dressing gown, donned with the intent of retiring
for the night, but discontent had made him restless. Sleep refused him. Once the clock at his bedside made its slow crawl past midnight, he had gotten up and
turned on the light. To read, to listen to a bit of soft music--anything to take his mind off the events of the afternoon. Events he still had not discussed
with the hollow-eyed team that had returned.
He could not bring himself to do it. He had been waiting for them, and had watched in silence as they made their way from the hangar. Battered, some of them
limping--all on the edge of exhaustion. He had touched Jean's mind, briefly--long enough to ascertain that the mission had been a success, and no Sentinels
would be descending on the mansion that night or any other. It had been enough, and he had withdrawn without a word, allowing them to go their ways--some to
the medbay, others to change and escape from the mansion to lick their wounds in peace.
But there was no peace for Charles in sleep that night. His decision to try the library, however (another book might do him good) was abruptly derailed as he
powered down the hall. Even with his shields, the wave of anger washing over him was as sudden and shocking as plunging one's hand into a roiling flame.
Charles' hand stilled on the toggle, his chair humming to a halt, and for a moment his eyes gazed into nothing at all.
With a deft, gentle 'touch,' he reached out with his mind and saw.
<<"Is there anymore? Shit… Fuck!">>
Charles exhaled softly. He started forward once more, the wheelchair's motor nearly silent as it drew him to the proper door. It was nearly closed.
Pausing, he tented his fingers against it and pushed it open... enough to see Alex sprawled on the bed, and Scott pacing back and forth, angrier than Charles
had seen the young man in quite some time.
"Don't you realize this is fucking important? If you fuck this up for these kids, I swear…"
"Scott," Charles said softly. His voice was gentle, without disapproval or recrimination--the voice of a father addressing a son about to do
something he would no doubt regret. Even so, he knew with heart-sinking certainty that Scott's anger was more than justified. Charles' mild regard
shifted to the sodden mess collapsed on the bed.
"What happened?" he asked quietly.
Jul 22 08 10:28 AM
"Scott," Charles said softly.
Scott startled at the sound of the Professor's voice, having not heard him enter the room. Caught off guard, he
turned quickly, hand jerking slightly, though it was stopped by the unfamiliar weight of the bottles he still held.
Fuck, but he wasn't thinking right. And his actions both before and after Xavier caused something akin to shame to
flare up inside him, and he felt much like a child who'd just been caught beating on his younger and weaker sibling.
That shame, however, wasn't enough to dispel his anger, but it was enough calm him to the point that he was no longer flying off the handle.
Xavier's attention shifted towards Alex and Scott's followed. "What happened?" [Charles] asked quietly.
Scott laughed, soft and ugly. "Nothing," he said, though he didn't know why. Didn't know why he suddenly felt the need to defend his brother against the Professor.
Didn't know why it was alright for him to be angry but no one else. But nothing had actually happened. Nothing they hadn't planned on anyway, save the bottles in his hand. He glanced down
at them, before looking back to his brother. "Just an enjoyable night of sibling comradery and booze," he
told Xavier before gesturing towards his brother. "Alex had a little more than me."
He might have laughed again, and maybe he did, somewhere beneath his breath. His emotions were all over the place,
warring between anger and shame, concern and fear, joy and defeat, until he felt as if he was going to be sick.
Everything was rushing back on him. Everything that had happened in Colorado, what he'd done to that scientist,
Mystique's words, all the way back to the winter dance, the failed danger room session with the Gen-X kids, Harry's, everything up to this very
moment. It was all pressing in on him and his dulled mind couldn't handle it.
It wasn't supposed to be this way, he thought as he continued to stare at his brother. "I'm the
one who's supposed to be fucked up," he said, unaware that he'd said the last out loud.
Jul 22 08 5:47 PM
Jul 23 08 12:18 AM
Charles regarded Alex in silence, then lifted his head to look at Scott once more. Turmoil baked off the young man, embarrassment and fury suffused his
face, but Charles' eyes shifted to the bottle still clutched in his hand. Scott's laughter--harsh, quiet, directed as much at himself as at the
situation before them--caused the professor to incline his head, a grim concern touching his furrowed brow. He did not pry--although the temptation called, as
it always did, even now with so many years of caution and prudence between them. He waited patiently instead and folded his hands in his lap.
"Nothing," Scott said; Charles raised a brow that spoke volumes. "Just an enjoyable night of sibling comradery and booze. Alex had
a little more than me."
A shifting, sickening pulse of emotion spun into the space between them. Charles drew breath slowly, marshaling his thoughts, and gazed steadily at the bed. At
Alex--the same young man he had only just cautioned the night before about the frequency of his drinking. The incident in itself would not have alarmed him;
although it might have surprised his students and faculty, Charles himself could still recall a handful of younger nights when he had passed out from the
proverbial too much of a good time and awakened in his rumpled clothes with a mouth like an unswept barn.
But where Alex was concerned, this had long since moved into disturbing territory...
"I'm the one who's supposed to be fucked up."
His thoughts abruptly derailed, Charles gave Scott a sharp, penetrating look. It faded the longer he regarded him. Nearly thirty, the young man before him, but
in that moment of vulnerability, the angry and aching teenager he had known came back to haunt them both.
"Jus' a couple'a fuckups," Alex muttered, couched in a drunken snicker. "Scotty-Mike's th' survivor. Yeeeah, boy.
Perfect through an' through. Boy Scott...Scout."
The professor's expression gentled, understanding causing him to motor quietly forward and disengage the bottle from Scott's clenched hand.
"Perhaps you and your brother are more alike than you think," Charles said softly. "All of us are broken to some degree. Some of us more than
others. Most unfortunate of all are those who think they can mend their breaks alone. Let him sleep." He searched the red gaze behind Scott's glasses,
his own infinite with compassion. "You are tired; it has been a long day for all of us. And this--" He unfolded a hand toward the bed. "--is
something that can wait until morning."
Jul 23 08 11:07 AM
"I'm the one who's supposed to be fucked up," Scott said, unaware that he'd said the
last out loud until he was answered by Alex's sardonic laugh.
"Jus' a couple'a fuckups," [Alex] giggled. "Scotty-Mike's th' survivor. Yeeeah, boy. Perfect through an' through. Boy
Scott's narrowed slightly at the sneer, though it wasn't the insult that truly angered him; it was the intentional twist of his words. He hadn't called Alex a fuckup, didn't consider him one. Everyone was prone to mistakes, he knew that. And he'd made far too many to judge,
especially today. It was the something else entirely that angered him. It was
the loss of the Winters in addition to their parents and the nearly uncontrollable power. It was the turn to substance
abuse to deal with those issues that was like a knife to his stomach. It was too close to home and not what he'd
hoped or needed for his brother.
There was a gentle pull at the bottles still clenched in his hand, which broke his thoughts and allowed him to look down at the Professor. Reluctantly, he relinquished his grip on the glass and was immediately at a loss as to what to do with his now empty hands.
"Perhaps you and your brother are more alike than you think," Charles said softly. His words causing
Scott to return his gaze once again to his brother.
"All of us are broken to some degree. Some of us more than others. Most unfortunate of all are those who think they can mend their breaks alone. Let him
Scott could feel the Professor's eyes boring into him and eventually he tore his eyes away from his brother and sought out Xavier's. The compassion he found there was almost too much, was almost enough to break him.
"You are tired; it has been a long day for all of us. And this--" He unfolded a hand toward the bed. "--is something that can wait until
Scott nodded in agreement, though he didn't move, not immediately.
He simply stood there and looked, absently wondering if they shouldn't roll Alex further onto his stomach so he wouldn't aspirate on his vomit should
he throw-up. He didn't voice that concern, however. Instead he abruptly
turned and quickly walked out of the room.
Aug 18 08 7:22 PM
A quiet sort of calm, tinged with relief, passed through Charles at Scott's nod. Good: They both needed the rest, and nothing would be solved in
Alex's current condition.
He watched the young man in patient silence, allowing him his moment with Alex. It felt, strange and yet terribly apt, like the last moment with the body of a
loved one before the funeral home closes the casket. The question was: would Alex be able to come back from this, or was it as final as the analogy suggested?
Charles, for all his learning and skill, did not know the answer to this.
He waited until Scott had left the room, then he turned himself and motored toward the door. He took the bottle with him, cradled in his lap. Once in the hall,
he reached back to turn out the light, casting one last troubled glance at the man passed out on the bed... then Charles drew away and softly closed the door
//Continued in the IBs: 3rd Floor Hallway//
Sep 23 08 7:30 PM
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