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Now, once upon a time, a gene was found, a gene that mutated the human body and gave humankind great gifts. Many children were born with this gene, and upon discovery, those children were looked down upon, feared for their great power, feared due to ignorance. Oh, you see that couple over there? You might want to remember them. They're kind of important. Well, decades passed, and a hop skip and a boat ride away, there grew a family. That family was headed by Major Christopher Summers and his beautiful and kind wife, Katherine Anne Summers. And Katherine, well, she was about to have a baby, the third child in their happy family. But then she got sick. Really sick. She was running out of time, and that's when people usually begin looking for a miracle. But in this story, there was no miracle to be had. Katherine Summers passed away while delivering her third child Spencer Summers to the world. Spencer was a beautiful, happy baby boy with curly brown hair and eyes that had bypassed the dazed baby blue. Instead, his eyes contained reds and yellows and oranges, all swirled into two balls. It was like he held the sun in his eyes. He was underweight by nearly two pounds and utterly adorable, if entirely too small. His hair was a silky mousy brown- a normal color, a color that would never allude to what Spencer was if not for his eyes. Now, Spencer's eldest brother knew immediately what his new brother was- even if he didn't know yet that he himself was one and the same- a mutant. In fact, all the Summer boys were mutants, not that that was something that would immediately come to mind if looking at the eldest two. Not yet, at least. The doctor that brought little Spencer into the world looked straight at Major Summers, and with a grim look on his face, he delivered the news just as he had delivered that sweet little boy just hours earlier. "Congratulations. It's a boy. And a mutant. Unfortunately though, while bringing life into this world, your wife passed onto the next. I'm so sorry for your loss." Do you remember that couple from earlier? Well, this is where they come into play. At this time, they were just one floor and two doors away, being told bad news of their own. "I'm sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Reid, but you cannot have children. It would be incredibly dangerous to take you off of your medication, and even if it weren’t there’s no guarantee that the medication would work the same way when put back on it.” William felt his heart drop and his blood go cold. The doctor was still talking, explaining other options (how would they ever be able to adopt with Diana how she was?) but William was no longer listening. He had always wanted children, ever since he was a young man and had really considered it. He wanted someone to pass on his legacy onto, his ancestors legacy, his life's work. He wanted someone who could pass on his genes to so that even when he was gone from this world, he would still be a part of it. But most of all? He wanted to make his wife happy. He knew how badly she wanted children. Remember this, because this is important. That, my friends, was his stressor. That is what led William Reid to do what he did. That is what drove William Reid over the edge, what pushed his sanity off the metaphorical cliff. And that is where this story really starts. For in that moment, William decided that if he and Diana couldn't make a child and they couldn't adopt a child(for they had indeed tried), then he would find a child that could be theirs. They would love that child like their own. Diana would never even know the difference, for in his love for her, he had kept many secrets, and he had made many decisions that he thought was for the best for her, without even giving her a choice. He would take another child home, and if Diana ever even asked where the child came from, then he would lie through his teeth, using her illness as an excuse. With that last fleeting thought, William started to plot out his scheme. The first place he would look for a baby? A son, an heir, someone whom he and Diana could take care of? Well, what better than a hospital specifically for hopeful and expectant mothers and their newborn infants? It would be a piece of cake to find the room that they kept the children, and this hospital in Las Vegas was big enough that no one would even realize that he wasn't just a father looking at their own child. He snuck a peek at Diana -or, more specifically, Diana's eyes. He noticed that the alertness that had been in them earlier was already fading, that the hope and determination that had shined so bright in her had been extinguished. Any doubt that had been in his mind was now gone. For his wife, he would find them a baby, a healthy strapping son to call their own. He could imagine tossing a ball back and forth in the yard, watching his wife read to the child, examining the glowing (and not so glowing) grades on the report cards, and sitting his boy down to talk about girls. He could imagine teaching the boy how to play poker, taking photo after photo of his boy, teaching his son the laws and watching him follow his footsteps into law. He could imagine it all, and now all he had to do was wait for the doctor to get done expressing his platitudes. With a plan in mind, and hope in his heart, William settled in patiently. William was able to slip into the hospital nursery easily. His eyes skimmed the children, bypassing all the females and most of the males. He didn't want a girl, and the boys looked healthy and like they would be wanted, and William didn't want to take a child if the parents were going to kick up a big fuss over it- if he went to prison, he wouldn't be able to see his son grow up. Towards the end of the room, he finally found a baby that looked unhealthy and unwanted. The child was obviously a mutant and it didn't have as many toys and blankets surrounding it as the others. It was also obviously underweight. Perfect, he thought. The child was unhealthy enough that no one would think that someone would want to take it, but because it was a mutant they might think that it was FOH or one of the other many mutant hate groups. But then again, that also meant that the child was distinctive. William stared at the boy for a long moment, before the choice was taken out of his hands. A nurse came in the room. Upon seeing him standing by the mutant child's crib, she smiled and walked towards him. "Is he yours?" She obviously expected an affirmative, and with the way he had just been standing there and staring at the lad, she would be alarmed if he said no. And so he said yes. What William didn't think of was that it wouldn’t be odd for someone to be staring at a mutant, that the nurse would likely understand. William could easily claim that he was here for a friend or a relative's child, and that way it wouldn't look weird when the one picking up the child wasn't him. But William didn't think of this. All William thought was that when the child's true parents came and picked him up, the nurse would think it odd that it wasn't him. She would know, she would realize. Now, you and I both know that the nurse probably wouldn't even see them picking the child up, and even if she did she probably wouldn't immediately think that William was a would be child napper. But something had snapped in William's mind, and he didn't think of any of that. The nurse made small chat with William for a few minutes, with William bluffing and lying his way through it- his wife's craving during pregnancy was pickles and crab. They named the child Spencer after his wife's grandfather, so on and so forth. William was extremely thankful in that moment that he was able to see the paper detailing the child's name, parents and date of birth so that the nurse wouldn't get too suspicious. As soon as the nurse left, William grabbed the child and gently held him to his chest. He was so small, so soft. Snapping out of reverie, he grabbed all the evidence that Spencer had been there- maybe they would think that they misplaced the boy- and started off towards his car. He remembered something that he had read one time, "It's easier to blend in if you act like you're supposed to be there and doing nothing wrong." With that thought in mind, William purposely kept his saunter relaxed and even occasionally stopped to comfort Spencer when he got fussy. William easily got out to the car, and he was easily able to trick his wife into believing what he wanted her to. It just took a few careful words. He knew that when she became more lucid he would have to be even more careful, but if she thought that she had been out of it most of the time during the adoption process, she might believe that the child was actually hers. He could pull this off. William could actually pull this off! William kept all visible excitement on the downlow. For now, home. William had been right when he thought he could pull this off. He did pull it off. Major Summers was in too deep of grief to care that his child was gone, Scott was six and Alex two, and the hospital was too concerned with covering up what happened to really do anything to find the child, and so no one really put any real effort into finding Spencer. And so Spencer grew up deep within Las Vegas, carefully hid and protected by his new parents. A few words from William, and Diana was willing to do whatever it took to protect her son, her baby, from the evil government that was so eager to take away the light of her life. It turned out, everything that William had imagined didn't happen the way he had hoped. Spencer could barely get the ball to him, as he was so badly coordinated, Spencer preferred to read to his mother instead of the other way around, Spencer’s report cards were too perfect, and it was obvious from a young age that he would grow to prefer the same gender, so he didn't even get to have the talk about girls. Everything may have happened the way William had planned, but nothing was going as William had hoped. William Reid loved his wife and son, but slowly, everything got to be too much for him. Between the guilt that had hit after taking the child, having a paranoid schizophrenic for a wife, and the worry that any day his sons mutation might kick in, William left when Spencer was ten years old. William leaving also left the responsibilities of taking care of Diana on Spencer's thin young shoulders. Spencer was mature for his age, a good lad. He took good care of his mother -or at least, as good of care as a 10 year old can feasibly do, and even some that they can’t- and he worked hard at school. He ignored it when the other kids shouted cruel things at him, jealous and afraid. He tried to ignore it when they pitched fists at him, and when they tied him up onto that football field goal post. He couldn’t ignore it when he finally got a friend out of the deal, a sassy young girl who had skipped a grade and wasn’t well liked either. Her name was Penelope Garcia, and although she was still older than Spencer and in a lower grade, he quickly found himself slotting into her life, and her into his. It was a new experience, but not an unwelcome one. It was even odder when she burst into his house at three in the morning in a panic, telling him that she’d just blended into the walls on accident, and even odder still when they realized that she had the ability to become a chameleon. Spencer’s mutation was different though. He wasn’t sure when it kicked in exactly, but he could pinpoint the exact moment he found out what he could do. Now, something important that you should know: Spencer didn’t sing, why would he? He would only embarrass himself, he thought. But there was a crying child that had gotten separated from his mother who had taken the child to class to pass off to the father. With no idea what to do, he began to sing as his mother had always done for him when he was small. It was a latin song, slow and melodious. It was slightly off key, but Spencer didn't sing often, so that could be excused. Without Spencer’s permission, his eyes began to glow behind the contacts that hid the fire, and his hair seemed to catch aflame. Spencer didn't notice this, as he was preoccupied with the child. His fellow students however, did notice. And well, let's just say Spencer was informed of his glowing extremities none too gently. Spencer's life didn't get any easier after that. The bullies seemed to think that Spencer's only power was to glow, and so even the ones who had been too scared to try anything before was suddenly after him. Him and Penelope had experimented with what he could do, and he had discovered the fact that he could heal people, and after a few terrifying hours where he had accidentally turned Penelope into a toddler, they’d discovered his temporary ‘fountain of youth’ power. This was all nice and all, but none of it really helped Spencer. Unless he wanted to attempt turning his bullies into babies for a few hours and risk then getting in trouble for it, it wasn’t like he could do anything to fix his situation. You know the saying "Sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better"? Well, that statement describes this situation to a tee and things didn’t start getting better for our young Spencer Reid until he was 18 years old.
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Spencer was finally an adult. It had felt like this day couldn't come soon enough. He had been saving up for years, trying to get enough money to get his mother the proper care she needed. He loved her with his entire being, but he wanted to have a real life. His mother was already extremely paranoid, but with his mutation? She acted like the government was going to take him away at any moment to experiment on. The likelihood of that actually happening in this day and age? Very small. Taking into account his location and exactly what his mutation was, maybe slightly larger. But things like that? Mutants being taken in? It had been happening less and less as mutants got more common and started demanding more rights. Of course, mutants were still the minority, but Spencer had hope for the future. Maybe if he could get his mother the help she needed, he could have a real life. A job, a partner, friends, his own apartment. He wanted that so badly, but thinking about it made a knot of guilt curl up in his stomach. Just one more day, he told himself while peering around for Penelope. She was running around here somewhere. He flicked his eyes around before spotting her fairly easily, trying to hide against a flower pot. He grinned and took several steps towards her, purposely looking anywhere but her direction, and leaving enough room between them that she would think he couldn't see her. "Penelope!" He extended the e of her name in a teasing manner before he spun quickly and grabbed her, taking care not to hurt her. If a chameleon could pout, he had no doubt that she would be doing so right now. He smiled at her as he set her down gently. Almost immediately the chameleons body extended and started to morph, the scales smoothing out and the tail shortening, all the while changing color. When the metamorphosis was finished, all that was left was a pretty young woman with bright clothes and hair. "That's twenty two for me. How about twenty three out of forty five?" Almost as soon as the words left his mouth, Penelope gave him the puppy dog eyes and pouted her lips. "Alright. What do you want to do?" “Do you even have to ask?” Penelope cooed, whipping a Doctor Who CD from seemingly nowhere. Before they could follow through with their plans though, a female voice called down the stairs. "Spencer, who are you talking too?" "No one mom! Just myself." The sound of creaking stairs had him looking pointedly at Penelope. The first time Penelope and Diana had met had been a disaster through no fault of their own. Penelope had made some joke about the FBI that supposedly watch everyone’s computer screen, threw Diana into a fit. The second time his mother seemed convinced that Penelope actually was a part of the FBI and so Spencer kept them away from each other after that. When his mom appeared in the stairwell seconds later, she looked around suspiciously before smiling at Spencer. The first thing that Spencer noticed was that she was dressed. In the Reid household, that was a pretty rare thing most days. "Going out?" As soon as the words left his lips, his mother gave him a knowing look. So this was one of her lucid days. Alright. That would make things more difficult, but not impossible. You see, dear reader, as you may or may not remember, Diana has a mental illness. Spencer had diagnosed her with paranoid schizophrenia when he was younger, a diagnosis that had yet to be proven or disproven. "Well, it is your birthday in three days. You're turning eighteen Spencer. My little boy is growing up, and I still need to get you a present." Her voice wavered with emotion as she shrugged on her coat. Spencer didn't bother to tell her that his birthday was today, not in three days. He also didn't bother to tell her that she had already gotten him a present, a book discussing the theories of evolution and a book about body language and psychology. It was a thoughtful gift, and the fact that even with Diana’s lucid moments becoming shorter and less common that she knew what he may have wanted despite that had made him positively beam. Penelope was infinitely more interested in technology than psychology and had tried to get him to start reading online (“more variety!”), and when that failed she just made sure he knew how to use the devices. Reid didn't mind much, and might even use such things more often if the light didn't hurt his eyes. His mutation caused his eyes to be more sensitive to light, specifically blue light, so if it wasn’t an extremely warm light or natural, he had to wear sunglasses or contacts with UV protection. Penelope often claimed that he held the sun in his eyes, and why would the sun in the sky hurt its brethren down on Earth? Reid always told her that she watched too much television. Spencer watched his mother a little as she sat down to tug on her shoes, making sure that she really was lucid and that she wouldn't attack anyone while in town or start yelling nonsense at some random civilian. As far as he could see, she was fine. He hoped she would be fine. He continued watching her as she left. He took into note her posture, the look in her eyes, the upturn of her lips, the way that she was able to walk smoothly. Spencer figured she’d probably be fine alone, although the thought made him shift where he stood. Upon reaching the doorway, Diana looked behind her with a reassuring smile that seemed to say I'll be fine. Don't worry. Spencer carefully released the tension in his shoulders and smiled back. "Should I set a place for you at the dinner table tonight?" Spencer was blatantly searching for information on when she'd be home, and they all knew it. Diana said nothing about it though and simply nodded her head in agreement before whisking out the door. Spencer stood there for a moment longer, watching the door as if he expected her to walk back in. He knew that she would be fine, and that she likely would continue to be fine, but she hadn't been this clear in ages, and the last time she was even close to being this clear, she had deteriorated quickly and their trip for ice cream had ended rather tragically. A hand on his shoulder startled Spencer out of his thoughts. He looked back at Penelope who was smiling gently at him and fidgeting her hands lightly. "She'll be fine. Don't worry. And if she's not, we can go and bust some heads, alright?" Spencer smiled and nodded at Penelope. "Right. So, Dr. Who?" It was hours later that Spencer got the phone call. He had been quietly worrying all the while she was gone, knowing, just knowing, that this was the time something would go wrong. Of course, he had that feeling everytime Diana insisted on going out, especially when she went alone. As soon as the phone rang, Spencer knew something was wrong. No one ever called the house. Spencer and Penelope shared a long look. Penelope had been entrenched in Spencer's life for years at this point, and she knew all about most of Spencer’s life, having been his only friend and confidant. He remembered when she had decided that they should be friends, having decided that he was cutest thing since puppies. What this friendship meant was that Penelope knew virtually everything that happened to Spencer, in that house and out of it. That also meant that she knew no one would be calling for a chat. Whatever this was about, it was bad, and Diana wasn't home. This was very bad. When Spencer hung up the phone, Penelope immediately knew from the look on his face that it was bad. The words she had told him echoed in her head. She had told him it would be alright. Well, she supposed that it was time to follow through on her promise. “Whose head do I need to bust?” Spencer let out a heartbroken noise that might have been a laugh. Penelope stood up and walked over to him, and slinging her arm around him led him into the kitchen and pushed him onto a stool. She waited patiently for him to speak as she bustled around the Reid kitchen and prepared hot chocolate. She wrinkled her nose as she grabbed two packs of the chemical filled powder. Not as good as the real stuff, but it would do for now. Upon being handed a cup, Spencer took a moment and began to speak, staring intently into the mug. “Mom had an episode. They took her to Stabbington Institute. She beat someone around with a bag of marshmallows of all things. Apparently they said something around her that threw her into a fit.” Spencer fell silent again. Penelope eyed him carefully, worried. Spencer’s life revolved around his mother, and although he may have known that instituting her was the best idea, having her taken from him was very different than making the decision himself. Both came with their own types of guilt. "They said that they'd be here tomorrow to talk to me. My mother will be kept at Stabbington institute for a 3 day inspection." Penelope smiled reassuringly at him like she had done hours before when trying to help him feel better about his mom going out. She immediately banished that thought and continued looking at Spencer encouragingly. "Do you want me to be here? I can stay the night if you want. I'll just have to call my parents and let them know I won't be home tonight. You know how they worry." She smiled playfully at her words, knowing just as well as Spencer did that her parents didn’t really care what she did, and that she was nineteen anyway. The only reason she had to tell them where she was was because she still lived with them, having been waiting for Spencer to become old enough to be her roommate. Spencer slowly shook his head, his brow creased slightly. “No, it’s fine. Can you come over later though? They should be leaving around three." Spencer's hands were cupped around his cooling hot chocolate mug. The handle was cracked in two places, the hideous mustard yellow color fading to a caramel gold. Penelope, whose lips were still curved in reassurance forced her lips to smile wider as she nodded. "Of course. I'll be here at three fifteen on the dot. Mkay, sweetie? If you need me sooner, just call. I don't want to be burying any bodies though, understand?" The mostly serious statement quickly dissolved into Penelope's brand of teasing. Spencer rolled his eyes and smiled weakly, although he didn’t have the emotional strength to keep smiling for longer than a few seconds. "Well it's almost midnight, so I'll be heading home, unless you’ve changed your mind?” She paused here, looking at Spencer to see if he had before continuing. “I'm here for you, okay Spence?" Penelope bumped her shoulder to his as she grabbed her empty candy apple red mug and deposited it into the sink before leaving. Spencer sighed before imitating her and going to bed. Remy laughed as he ran away from the mansion belonging to the X-Men. He had been sent to collect something of Scott Summers. He didn’t know what it was, but he imagined it wouldn’t be that hard to find out. It was in a small red velvet bad with a tie. Two of the Marauders, Sabretooth (who had volunteered for the chance to see the Wolverine’s quarters) and Blockbuster (who had officially been sent as a bodyguard and unofficially to make sure Remy would do what M. Essex wanted) had been sent with him. Remy knew that the Marauders were not loyal to him, they were loyal to Sinister and they wouldn't approve of what he wanted to do. And what did he want to do? He wanted to see what was in that bag. That, dear reader, is what he wanted to do. But to do that, he would have to ditch the Marauders without making it obvious that he ditched them on purpose. He contemplated for a second, before the sound of hooves reached his ears. Hooves? He blinked in surprise and turned around. He blinked again. Was that Scott Summers? Chasing after them on a horse? Either his information was wrong (of course it wasn’t he collected it himself) and there was a stable, or something was up. Without hesitation, he turned around and started running for the trees on the edge of the property. The Marauders quickly fell into step. Well, who was he not to take advantage of the situation? A grin flashed across his face before he smoothed out his face and shouted at the others to separate, after all, Summers couldn't possibly know who exactly had the bag, could he? The logic was impeccable, and not even Sinister would be able to poke holes in his logic if he got suspicious, and Remy was known for being one of his most loyal, even if he was a wild card. After all, why on earth would Remy do something against Sinister when Sinister had helped him? Secretly, Remy often grew weary of M. Essex’s over controlling nature and some of the things he did was questionable at best. Say what you wanted about Remy’s skewed morals, but he did in fact, have them. Why exactly, did M. Essex need a team of assassins? The sound of hooves getting closer made him curse. Of course Summers would chase after him instead of the two morons. He put on a burst of speed, hurrying into the woods and trying to avoid tripping on tree roots or something equally ridiculous that would result in getting caught. He just had to go to a place where the trees were thick enough that the horse couldn't get through. It didn’t take long for the population of tree’s to thicken. Summers would have to follow on foot, and Remy could have easily outrun him if he’d been at full energy. Unfortunately however, he was not at full energy. He had already been near sprinting for a couple of minutes. He would have to hope that disembarking the horse and reorienting himself with running instead of riding would take Summer’s long enough for Remy to get a reasonable distance and hide. Remy slowed to a jog, listening carefully for Summers. It was hard to move quietly in the woods, and Remy would be able to hear him coming a mile away. That, unfortunately, worked both ways though. But Summers didn't appear again. From what Remy knew of him, Summers was stubborn and competent. If it was important enough that Sinister wanted it, then why wasn't Summers chasing him now? Did he give up to look for one of the others? Or did he go around to meet Remy on the other side? Remy may have scoped out the property, but he hadn’t explored the entirety of the woods, and Summer’s actually lived here. Remy slowed to a stop and listened. He heard nothing. He frowned in consternation. What was Summers doing? He started to walk through the woods, making as little noise as possible. Just in case. When you're a thief, it always paid to be silent. Remy didn't reach the end of the woods until the sun was starting to sink behind the earth creating a soft red glow on the land and causing an eerie effect when combined with the dark shadows. It matched Remy's eyes. Eerie. The sunglasses he was wearing were now starting to work against him. He cursed under his breath, but couldn’t bring himself to take them off. Remy peered out of the woods, hiding carefully in the shadows. He saw nothing. If anything, that made him even more wary. He knew it had been several hours since he went into the woods, but that didn't mean much. He watched for a couple more minutes, looking for any sign of movement. He still saw nothing. And so he left, headed to M. Essex’s most recent home base: Viva Las Vegas! Spencer stared at Penelope incredulously. It was nearly three days after the interview, he had been asked many inane questions, many of them seeming to have nothing to do with his mother and certainly none that would truly help his mother in what he knew was to be her new home. His emotions were frayed, although he would probably be worse off if he hadn’t already been planning on instituting her and been preparing for something like this for years. That didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt though. Penelope obviously knew it too, which brought him back to her previous words. "The X-Men? You want me to go see the X-Men?" Penelope nodded her head sagely. She wanted to point out that she could go with him, being as she was mutant too, and that meant he had nothing holding him back now, but she thought that last part might be just a little insensitive. "Yeah, the X-Men. They could help you get a grip on your powers, being as you know virtually nothing besides that fact that your eyes glows when you sing. And I could go with you, I mean, I'm a mutant too so they would welcome me as well." Penelope had thought that his power was hilarious. His eyes fucking glowed when he sang! She just had thought it was sad how he found out about it. That brought her to her next point. "And, you know that your college term just ended. You don't have to go back for another three months. C'mon Spence!" Spencer looked like he was about to argue. In fact, Penelope knew that he was about to argue. He was interrupted by the phone just as he opened his mouth. Ha! She thought. Proof from the universe that Spencer and I should go find the X-Men! But then she remembered the phone rule in the Reid household. This was likely going to be bad news. She hoped it wasn't, but it probably would be. Sure enough, less than a minute after Spencer responded, he started to look ashen. Penelope privately thought that Spencer looked like he was about to throw up. Spencer hung up the phone, his eyes wide and his face pale. “Spencer, honey?” Penelope gently grabbed Spencer's arm. She was genuinely worried that he was going to throw up. “I think I’m going to go to bed. When I wake up, everything will be better and I’ll find out this has all been some elaborate dream, my mind playing cruel tricks on me.” Penelope blinked. She bit her lip, looking at him carefully. “And if its not a dream? If you wake up and it turns out that this is real?” Spencer smiled at her, his lips trembling and his bottom eyelashes wet. “I don’t know.”
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Penelope was a terrible driver. She had learned from her father how to drive on the backroads of Nevada where there hadn’t been as many cars, and now she drove in and out of them like they weren’t there. Spencer’s knuckles were white against the arm rest. He really wished he knew how to drive. It was almost a relief when Penelope pulled into the parking lot of Stabbington Institute. Almost. Dread gripped Spencer’s heart. He desperately did not want to be having this conversation. He slung a duffel bag filled with Diana’s clothes and a couple keepsakes over his shoulder, straightening his back in fake confidence. He turned to smile and wave at Penelope who would be waiting in the car. Slowly, he drudged up to the front steps, his feet dragging against the concrete making a scraping sound. By the time he had gotten to the reception desk, there was an almost painful knot in the pit of his stomach. “Hi, I’m here to see Diana Reid and drop her things off?” It was only force of will that kept most of the uncertainty out of Spencer’s voice. “Of course, darling. That’ll be room 221B, just up those stairs and around the corner.” The receptionist had a bubbly smile and bright pink hair. Spencer was reminded very strongly of Penelope. Smiling his thanks, he waved and walked up the stairs, trying not to let the fear into his posture. Soon enough, he was standing outside of Diana’s door. Any shred of confidence he may have had had already abandoned him. He knocked on the door. “Come in!” Her voice held the same lucidity that she’d had when she left the house. Upon opening the door, he saw that her eyes held that same clarity as well. A large smile broke out across Diana’s face as she saw Spencer. “Spencer! I didn’t think they’d let you come visit me so soon.” Spencer smiled tremulously. “Normally, you’d be right. Officially, I’m dropping off your things and helping you get acquainted with your new surroundings.” Spencer hesitated for a second before continuing. “Unofficially, I’m here to see you. How are you doing?” “Well enough, considering.” Seeing the look on Spencer’s face, she continued, her tone sharp. “I always knew this day would come and so did you, so get those self doubts out of your mind right now, young man. You couldn’t take care of me forever. But being as you’re here, we do need to have a conversation. Sit down.” The anticipation that had been building in Spencers gut since that horrible phone call yesterday raised to a new high. Fuck. “You’re so smart Spencer, you may have already known this. Your father and I never could get anything past you.” She smiled wistfully. “Before we had you, we wanted a child so badly. I remember the doctor telling us that we couldn’t conceive, that it just wouldn’t be sustainable on my medications. It was the worst day of my life. And then shortly after, William came home with you, my little bundle of joy. He told me our adoption request had gone through. I always suspected that it hadn’t-not really. Who would give us a child with me the way I am? William was never very convincing either, but Spencer… “I wanted to believe it. I wanted to believe it so badly that I ignored it. I didn’t care where you came from. I just cared that you were ours. My little boy, my son.” Her lips trembled. Any hope that Spencer may have held out was extinguished. He’d sort of known, ever since that phone call. He’d known he was adopted, of course he had. Not everything added up. Genes didn’t work that way, and with how many baby pictures there were, there were no pregnancy photos or anything to signify that Spencer had came from them. “It’s okay mom.” She didn’t look like she believed him, but she let it go until he had to go. As he was stepping out the door, she caught his wrist. “Spencer. I’m sorry. I love you.” Penelope’s eyes were wide, her manicured fingers against her mouth. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry. Do you want to look for them?” Spencer blinked. What? “Look for who?” It was Penelope’s turn to blink. Spencer was usually pretty quick on the uptake and had been around her enough to know where her mind had gone. Had he not even thought about it? She suddenly wasn’t sure that she wanted to ask. “Your biological family, Spencer.” Spencer felt like he had been slapped and punched in the gut simultaneously. He felt his breath coming slightly faster. He hadn’t even really considered it. He’d always known that his parents weren’t his biological parents, but he’d always thought his bio parents hadn’t wanted him. That they’d thrown him away. Not that… Not that he’d been taken, not that William had been stupid enough to steal a child but smart enough to get away with it. He hadn’t thought of the other side. To be honest, he didn’t really want to deal with that, but at the same time he couldn’t help but wonder. What if they were like him? What if he had someone out there, missing him? Spencer ruthlessly squashed the bubble of hope rising in his chest. He didn’t even know if they looked for him or if they were alive. “How would we go about doing that? We don’t know who my biological family is, or if they’re even still alive. We don’t know how exactly da- how exactly William got me or where he got me from and its not like he’s around to ask.” Penelope bit her lip in thought. She had noticed Spencer’s change in name for William, but she wisely decided to say nothing. Suddenly her head snapped up, her eyes wide in excitement. “Obviously we have other questions we need answering, but you could use one of those sites online! Like ‘23 & Me’ or ‘Ancestry’ or something! Maybe not Ancestry actually, I think that just tracks names. But 23 & Me should work.” Spencer slowly nodded, his face thoughtful. “That’s not a bad idea. And maybe they can answer our questions instead of William.” “Where do you think he went anyway?” “I don’t know, I’ve not see him since I was ten. All they said on the phone was that they couldn’t find any legal documentations of my birth or adoption and were looking for William to see if he had them being as I didn’t. Apparently his secretary reported him missing about three days ago.” Penelope hummed low in her throat in acknowledgement. “Isn’t that convenient? Goes missing right as his ex-wife was checked into Stabbington.” Spencer winced slightly at the wording. “Not his ex-wife. They never divorced, one day he was here and the next he wasn’t and we never heard from him again except for the occasional check that I can only assume was meant to be child support. My guess is a divorce would draw too much attention to stones he thought would be better left unturned.” Spencer’s voice was wry, his lips upturned in a bitter parody of a smile. “I’m sorry sweetie. But we’ll find everything out, we’ll beat the bad guy and get the girl!” Penelope cheered, knocking her shoulder against Spencer’s lightly. A wane smile lit upon his face. “Who’s the bad guy in this scenario?” Penelope paused, before shrugging. “I don’t know.” Spencer shrugged as well, seeming to accept that answer. It went unsaid that William was still in the back of both of their minds.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
It was 4 AM in the morning, and Remy was drunk off of his ass. The light above him swarmed like angry bees. He’d gotten into Las Vegas just after midnight and despite his exhaustion, he’d gone out on the town to celebrate. He wasn’t expected at M. Essex’s for another three days, the Marauders were nowhere near him, and he’d gotten away cleanly. Or at least, somewhat cleanly. Sure, the X-men were now gunning after him and he had no disillusions that they didn’t know where he was, but for now he was safe. He could be going underground, sure, if he didn’t want them to find him then they wouldn’t, but Remy had never taken anything that he thought someone would actually miss or would actually hurt someone, and he hadn’t been planning on starting now. He hadn’t known what was in that bag, he figured it was just something that would help M. Essex one-up the X-men, but he was sure it wasn’t the case for this bag. He’d opened it hours ago when he first got to his hotel and all he’d found was a lock of hair in a baby locket, the hair contained inside dark and way too soft to belong to anything but a very young child. Remy would be lying if he said it didn’t bother him. And hence, here he was, drunk out of his mind on the floor of his hotel’s living room. Now, Remy may have been drunk on the job, but he wasn’t expecting the X-men to arrive for at least a day or so, and he wasn’t going to make it easy for them to catch him. In fact, he wasn’t planning on being caught at all. Maybe he’d just leave the locket somewhere they could find it and give M. Essex the empty bag. M. Essex didn’t expect much from him in the mind department most of the time, Remy thought if he played it right M. Essex would buy it. A slight click from the door snapped Remy out of his thoughts. Were the X-Men here already? Pushing himself to his feet, Remy turned to the connected door that lead to the next hotel room. He hesitated, unsure if there was anyone in that room before deciding promptly he didn’t care. They’d deal, he was out of time. He wobbled slightly, his vision blurring as he started towards the door. Luckily for Remy, not quite so luckily for his liver, he was an experienced drunk and was able to open the door in record time, only fumbling a bit as he fuzzily pressed a lock pick into the lock in the door. Remy found himself suddenly incredibly grateful he’d chosen some off the wall hotel on the outskirts of the city. He gently closed the door behind him before he heard the small click click of his door on the other side of the wall. Remy stumbled towards the window, not trusting the X-men not to be waiting outside his room’s door and find him sneaking out of his neighbors door. Knowing inside that this was an extremely bad idea, but not caring enough at the moment to find a better one, he opened the window and pushed out the screen, finagling himself through the small opening, trying not to make any noise. He heard a small amount of shuffling in the other room, but he paid it no mind as he finally was able to get through the window. Remy found himself suddenly thankful that he was on the ground floor. Feeling rather unsteady still from his nightly excursions, but having sobered up enough after the X-Men scare, Remy had the presence of mind to stay out of view of his previous room’s window. His legs felt a bit like jelly, but he’d been drunk often enough that he was able to wander away. He didn’t want to put up with Essex yet, especially being as he wasn’t sure if the Marauders had returned or if the X-Men had got them when they split up and frankly, he didn’t care if he never saw them again. Their attitudes grated on his nerves. With no destination in mind, Remy wandered the streets of Las Vegas, the large crowds of people on the streets despite the late hour helping to disguise him. Las Vegas, so convenient, Remy thought to himself in a self satisfied way. Suddenly the crowd started murmuring. “Is that the X-Men? What are they doing here?” “Ugh, mutant scum. How dare they-” “Which ones is it? Do you recognize them?” “No, did they get new members?” Shit. How did they find him again so quickly? Did they have some super nose or something? Shoving the thoughts out of his mind, he quickly started pushing his way through the crowd, trying not to offend anyone enough so as to leave a trail. While the crowd helped keep him hidden and the X-Men would also have to push through the crowd to get to him, it definitely impeded his speed as well which allowed the X-Men to keep up with him. M. Essex would kill him if he led the X-Men to his most recent base, so that was out of the picture. Remy cursed under his breath and continued dodging and pushing through the crowd, trying to come up with a plan. Throw the bag away from him (and them) and run? No, Essex would be able to find that on CTV cameras, and if there’s more than one (which of course there is, the X-Men seemed to travel in groups like the gays) then there’s no guarantee that they both (all?) would go after the bag. He couldn’t risk it. The only idea that Remy could come up with was to hide, which would be nearly impossible if they did have a mutant with a good nose in the group. He could scatter his clothes in different places and then take a shower, but that would take too long and there were too many opportunities for the X-Men to catch up with him and he doubted changing his shampoo would honestly change his scent all that much. Remy quickly ducked into a casino, making a sudden decision. He eyed the outside of the doors, waiting to see if the X-Men passed him by, if his scent had mingled with the crowd enough for them to continue on. If not, the X-Men tried to avoid collateral damage as much as possible to avoid souring the mutants on the normal humans even further, so he would probably be able to get away fairly easily. He waited impatiently, just inside the door of the casino. He got plenty of odd looks, but most people seemed to assume he was waiting for someone (which he was, in a way) and let him alone. When the X-Men made their way past (two of them-although there may be more in other places, don’t let your guard down) the casino, it was all Remy could do not to let out a relieved sigh. He waited longer, waiting for them to get far enough away to leave. Soon enough, he was on the other side of Vegas, dredging through the neighborhood. A lot of these houses were abandoned, many of them being vacation homes. It was just a matter of figuring out which ones were vacation homes and which ones were lived in. Eventually he chose a house that looked like it had seen better moments. That wasn’t to say it was dirty, it just had an unlived in look. There were no decorations on the lawn and the curtains and blinds were drawn and dusty like they hadn't been opened in a long time. There were no cars in front of the house, and although not everyone has a car, there was no bike either and the house was far enough away from main Las Vegas that it wouldn’t make sense to walk there. Slowly, he walked up to the house, slightly uncertain and not wanting to freak out any hermits who might happen to live there. That’s why he wasn’t expecting it when after he opened the door and took a few steps in, there was a blinding pain in the back of his head before everything went dark. “Oh my god, what if he doesn’t wake up? What if I gave him brain damage, Penelope? I hit him with a frying pan of all things! A frying pan! What was I thinking?” Spencer's eyes were wide and panicked, his hand absently rubbing the shoulder of the arm that he had used to smack the stranger with a frying pan. Penelope’s eyes were equally as wide, but she seemed slightly calmer. Maybe it came with age. “Calm down, sweetie. It’ll be fine. Why don’t we just call the police, hmm?” “No-” “What?! And why not? He broke into your house, Spence. We don’t know what he was planning on doing. Maybe he was going to kill us both. Maybe he was going to rob you blind. We just don’t know. What if he’s dangerous?” “Oh, he probably is. You didn’t notice, but I did. His eyes. He’s a mutant. He may have broken in, but you know what the police will do if I call them to pick up a mutant, and who knows what will happen if the press gets ahold of the story.” Spencer had calmed down substantially, and his logical brain was starting to kick in. “Then what are we going to do, hmm? You just said he’s probably dangerous, and we’re not able to defend ourselves.” Penelope’s eyes went pointedly to the frying pan that Spencer still held in his hands. He quickly put it down. “Well firstly, let's see if we can find out what he can do. If we can figure it out, we might be able to figure out what to do with him.” Penelope paused, considering before coming forward and bending next to the unconscious male. With Penelope's help, Spencer flipped him over and searched all of his pockets. They ended up with about 5 decks of cards, an extendable bo staff, and a small red leather bag with a drawstring that contained a small golden baby locket with a lock of dark fine hair contained inside. Upon further inspection, they saw the name 'Summers' engraved lightly on one side, almost worn away by time. A bit of paint had also been worn away, revealing not a gold surface but a dark copper. They quickly put the locket back in the bag, feeling like they had snooped through something important. Something in Spencers mind was screaming at him. The DNA test had come back the day before, and the name on the locket couldn’t be a coincidence with this timing, could it? But then, Summers is a fairly common name, wasn’t it? Why hadn’t Spencer read more name etymology books? “Penelope, help me get him into a chair. We can tie his wrists down if nothing else. I’m not sure if that’ll help, but it probably won’t hurt.” Together, Spencer and Penelope heaved the man into a chair they had brought in from the kitchen. Using some giant yarn Penelope had on hand (“Why? Just why?” “I like knitting without getting poked by needles!” “But why do you have it with you?”), they tied his wrists together behind the back of the chair and then tied his feet to the legs of the chair as well, just in case. Both knew that the giant yarn wouldn’t do very much, and the knots weren’t very effective because of how bulky the string was, but it would hopefully be intimidating. Spencer got the distinct feeling that giant rainbow yarn wasn’t very intimidating. Remy woke up with a pounding in his head, a crick in his neck and a stiffness in his limbs. Carefully, without letting on that he was awake, Remy assessed his situation. It seemed that no one was in the room with him, although if he strained to hear he could hear a whispered argument from what he would guess was a room over. A room with thin walls. “We should call the cops!” “Yeah, but we don’t know him and we don’t know why he broke in! Maybe he needs help. We can't in good conscious call the police on a mutant when we don't know the situation.” “Spencer! You saw as well as I did that he had at least 3 fake ID’s on him. We have no idea who he is, why he needed that many, or how he got them!” “He’s a mutant Penelope, like us! You know as well as I do that the ID’s might be a bit of extra protection.” “Protection from who? The crusade against mutants has never been lower.” “But that doesn’t mean its over! You’ve seen how people look at us, and he probably has too.” “Why are you suddenly an optimist? You know that's usually my role, love. Why are you so determined to trust him?” “I don’t trust him. I don’t know him. But that's exactly why I’m trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. We don’t know him.” “Alright. Thats fair. But what about the hair we found on him? The extendable bo staff? The locket? I know you noticed the name on it. That can’t be a coincidence.” “What makes you so determined not to trust him is exactly why I want too. Come on, he should be waking up soon.” Remy heard their footsteps walking closer. He carefully didn’t move from the position that he woke up in, keeping his breathing deep and heavy. His mind was whirring with what he heard. Whoever these people were, they definitely weren’t professionals and they had no idea who he was. He could feel their gazes on him. “He’s still unconscious. Maybe you knocked him harder than we thought you did. Maybe we should call an ambulance,” the female voice suggested, sounding hesitant, the one that the male had called Penelope. “No, thats a bad idea. Although we probably wouldn’t get in trouble, it would be odd that we didn’t call them immediately and we don’t know what will happen to him or how he reacts to medicine,” the male voice, Spencer, responded, his voice reasonable, a hint of impatience behind it from the earlier conversation. “Should we just wait until he wakes up then?” There was silence after the question, and a bit of shuffling. Remy resisted the urge to open his eyes, to see what they were doing. Suddenly, his ear was filled with an odd unpleasant sensation, cold and wet. Snapping his eyes open, he saw a blonde woman standing near him, her finger still outstretched from her fist. A fucking wet willy? What? Who the fuck were these people?