Categories > Cartoons > X-Men: Evolution > No Rain

Night Terror

by slickboy444 0 reviews

Major Scott/Jean. Scott and Jean have always been seen as a couple of uptight straight-arrows in the eyes of others. But in reality, their lives are far darker, and more complex than anyone could p...

Category: X-Men: Evolution - Rating: R - Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance - Characters: Cyclops, Jean - Warnings: [R] [V] [X] - Published: 2005-05-10 - Updated: 2007-08-12 - 3638 words

No Rain
Chapter 1: Night Terror


In the late hours of the night within the walls of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters, all seemed quiet as everyone in the mansion slept peacefully after another hard day of being mutants in an uncertain world. However, in the room of a young man by the name of Scott Summers...Peaceful is the last word to describe what was truly going on his mind. Over and over again, he tossed and turned in his sleep...Occasionally groaning in pain. As he tossed around with unwavering unrest, he began to thrash violently as if he was fighting something off...But nothing was there.

He was gasping for breath...Almost as if something was squeezing every ounce of air from his lungs. His face looked as though he was in pain as he continued to toss and turn in the darkness of the night. And as his actions became more and more fevered...Subtle, yet barely audible words slipped from his hoarse throat.

"No...No more..."


In the cold air of the skies over Alaska, two young boys stood near the open door of a small plane that was flying thousands of feet in the air. Fire fed by the plane's fuel was consuming the air around them and the sickening smell of black smoke permeated deeply throughout the inside of the cabin area. As the two boys saw the vast fall to the ground that they would have to endure, a terrible fear came over their young minds.

"Daddy please, I don't want to jump! I want to stay here with you and mommy!" said a young Scott Summers as he clung to his parents with his brother.

"I'm sorry Scott..." said his father with a heavy heart, knowing this a situation that should never be thrust upon two mere children, "But I need you and Alex to be very brave right now. I know you're scared, but please...Be strong."

"But...What about you?" asked a young Alex Summers as he looked back up at his mother with tears in his eyes.

Katherine Summers responded by tightly embracing her two sons for what she knew would be the last time. It was so hard trying to explain to young children that their parents would not be able to be there for them anymore. It was a heartbreaking feeling...Being forced to say goodbye to such fragile young minds. However, if they were to live...They would have to do just that, and there were no words to describe the difficulty of such an act.

"We'll be okay baby...But you have to jump," said their mother as another heavy rumble shook the small plane.

The two boys then stood near the opening of the plane that led in to the cold, Alaskan wilderness. Looking back at each other with unparalleled fear in their minds, they took one last look at their parents.

"Please be safe boys. Scott, look after your brother...And, I'm sorry," said Christopher Summers as he saw the fear in his children's eyes as they stood ready to jump.

Another loud rumble shook the plane as the flames grew stronger and the smoke grew thicker. Time had run out...It was now or never. Katherine then held on tight to her husband as they both took one last look at their children.

"Scott, Alex! You have to go! JUMP NOW!" yelled their father as the fire grew more intense.

There was no more time left for the young boys to contemplate any further. They were just young children and they were about to make a choice that nobody should ever have to make. Taking each other's hand...Scott and Alex Summers took a deep breath and jumped out of the plane.

As the cold air hit them, and they looked back at the plane with their parents...They both watched in horror as it exploded in a ball of fire. The shockwave from the blast knocked them apart as they tumbled through the air towards the hard ground below. As they drew their parachutes to slow their decent, Scott felt something happen on the top of his chute. Off to his side...Alex watched in horror as he saw flames start to consume the top of his brother's parachute. And as Scott's decent began to accelerate...Alex reached out to his brother as he fell out of sight.




Darkness...Pain...loss. A young boy lay silently in a hospital bed with numerous machines going in and out of his frail body. Scott Summers felt as if a massive weight had been placed over every muscle as he slowly became more aware. When he tried to move, every nerve surged with pain...But he managed to open his eyes through all this to see where he was. Was he dead? Where was he? Many questions surged though his young mind when it dawned on him...The plane, his family, the fire.

Panic soon griped Scott as his vision struggled to adjust. But as they gradually became clearer...He saw a man in a doctor's coat loom over him in the pale, florescent glow of the lights.

"Scott...Scott can you hear me?" said the man.

Scott tried to respond...But nothing came out of his throat. He was too weak to even talk, but he could still hear and see.

"You're very lucky to be alive, Scott. You've been in a coma...For the last three months. We thought you were a goner, but you held on. Your parents...Your brother...I'm afraid they didn't make it. You're the only one who survived. I'm sorry Scott..."

The young boy felt a wave of sadness unlike no other wash over him as the feeling of such a loss sunk in. The 8 year old boy struggled to process the fact that...His whole family was dead and he was all alone in the world. And as he lay still in his bed in so much pain...He could do nothing but cry...For his world had just fallen apart.


An eleven-year-old Scott Summers was thrown to the ground once again in a crumpled heap. He had tears in his eyes as he felt the blood trickle down his face. His body was thin, weak, and horribly undernourished as he lay in pain on the cold, hard floor. Pain was all this boy felt...For years now his world was and endless cycle of physical and mental torture from people who liked to take advantage of scared, weak boys.

"You little shit! Didn't I tell you to get the fucking jewels first!? And leave the small time shit for later!?" shouted an angry, booming voice that loomed over the young boy.

Scott didn't respond...For he knew that nothing he said would calm this man down. This angry man...Who Scott was ashamed to say was his foster dad...Had made his life even more of a living hell for years now. After the plane crash and his stay in the hospital, he got sent to at least half a dozen orphanages...But nobody wanted to adopt a scared, traumatized little boy. They bounced him around many state care programs, but they seldom lasted more than a few weeks due to the lack of money and the horribly poor conditions that caused them to be shut down. After being sent to orphanage number six in New York, Scott was 'adopted' by a former ex-convict through a bribe in the corrupt officials within social services. It was an act that Scott quickly came to regret because this man that had adopted him was not a very upstanding person to say the least. This man forced the young boy to live on the streets like an animal, hustling stolen goods for food and money to survive. But it was never a whole lot...And his foster dad along with his associates took most of the revenue he stole. That's why he was so angry with him right now...Because of one simple hit gone wrong. And as Scott felt the warm blood seep in to his eyes and mix with his tears...He dreaded what his so called "caretaker" would do to him next. It seemed everyone he encountered now hurt him...Leaving scar after scar in the body and mind of young Scott Summers.


Another surge of pain shot through the young boy's body as the angry man gave him a hard kick while he was still lying on the dirty ground. That only caused Scott to start coughing up blood as he tried to fight off the mind-numbing feeling of the pain he was in.

"I'm sorry...I..." but Scott was once again cut off by his angry foster dad.

"SORRY?! The cops shot at me! We lost over half of the goods! Sorry just ain't gonna cut it this time Scott!" yelled the angry man as he gave him another kick.

This time, the kick landed on a small bullet wound that Scott had suffered while running from the cops. This only sent another powerful sting throughout his body as he felt his head begin to spin from everything that was happening to him. He was now so weak from it all...After years of suffering he struggled to hold his physical and mental well-being together. He tried to shut it all out...But that was impossible, given that he had suffered worse in the past. His former convict foster parent had done much worse before. Intense beatings from him whenever a job went wrong, whenever he lost money gambling, whenever he went through withdraws due to drug use, or sometimes when he just felt like it...He would take all his anger out on the frail, young Scott simply because he could. To him, Scott was just a brain damaged pet who bought in child support money from the state. And his violent assault of the young boy permeated deeply as Scott suffered worse and worse beatings over the years.

"You're useless Scott...I put a roof over your head and this is the thanks I get?!" bellowed the angry convict as he grabbed the young boy by the shirt collar and forced him against the wall, "You know you'll have to be punished for this...Take em off!"

Scott backed up further against the wall as a terrible feeling of fear overwhelmed his system. He lost all control of his sobs. He was hoping this wouldn't happen...He was hoping that the beatings were all he would suffer. But they weren't...His foster dad did other things to him as well...Sick, perverted things that only hurt the young boy even more in his already tumultuous life. Beatings along were bad enough...But rape only made things worse. Because he was a weak pretty boy...His foster dads and his associates found a sick pleasure in raping and abusing this boy...Believing that because he was so pitiful that he didn't feel. They would touch, torture, and use this boy in so many inhuman ways. It made him feel so ashamed and weak...That he often contemplated suicide. He even tried...Twice. But he survived each time. It was almost as if he was forced to live this horrible life and could do nothing to escape it. Every day was a struggle. He was so broken...Mentally, physically, and spiritually. Violence, assault, and rape were engraved on this boy's mind and body even when he was still at such a young age.

"No...No, please! Anything but that..." said Scott in a hoarse voice as he felt the blood on his face start to dry in to a thick crust around the side of his face from the stains of his tears.

"Don't you talk back to me, kid! You know you're just gonna make it worse! NOW DO IT!"

"No...I won't," said Scott as he tried to catch his breath, but only coughed up more blood as more tears began to form in his eyes.

"YOU WILL! Remember Scott...When disobedient little children are bad, they have to be punished...NOW STRIP EM!"

Then, his angry foster dad picked him up and threw him against the wall again, and as he walked back over to the injured young boy...He took out a pocket knife and began to cut off his shirt roughly fondle his tender flesh. Scott closed his eyes and tried to shut it out, but he didn't even have the strength to do that through all the pain of his wounds and weakened state. This man had broken him so much over the years that he didn't have the strength to fight back. So now, he could do nothing more than cry and endure this horrible torture that was his life.

"You shouldn't have disobeyed me...Now, you're gonna pay the price!"

Then...Something strange began to happen. As Scott braced himself for the inevitable...He was suddenly overcome with a powerful burning sensation in his eyes. Where it was coming from...He didn't know. But the more he tried to ignore it, the worse it got. Soon, Scott Summers felt an enormous pressure build up within his head and he started to let out weak moans of pain. As he struggled to filter out everything that was happening to him...A sudden red tint engulfed his vision.

"NO!!!" yelled the young boy's tired voice as he suddenly felt the pressure in his head release in a powerful burst that blasted his violent caretaker in to the air and against the opposite wall.

Then...It stopped. And Scott was left to ponder what had just happened to him. He couldn't think straight...The whole world was spinning around him. Overcome with a new feeling of anxiety, he looked back over at the body of his foster dad...The man who had tortured him to no end for too long now. A wave of fear then gripped his mind as he suddenly realized that he was dead...And he had just killed him. All the pain in the world, and now he had to live with the fact that he had taken a life.

Tears ran down the young boys face as he desperately hoped that this wasn't real...That this wasn't happening. But it was real...He didn't know how, but it was. His mind and spirit had devolved in to a horrible void of suffering.

"What have I done? What's happening to me?" said Scott weakly in a hoarse tone as he fell back against the wall in agony.

Then, the pressure and burning in his head returned. This time it did not weaver...Instead it grew stronger. The young boy then struggled to hold his thoughts together as he grasped his head in pain. He was already haunted by memories and physical scars that wouldn't go away...But now something else was happening as he collapsed on the cold, dingy floor below him. All the awful memories of his life festered and paralyzed his very being as the pain in his eyes just kept burning more. And as he took one last look at the sight before him that had been hell for years now...Everything suddenly went black.


"NO!" shouted Scott as he suddenly bolted up from his sleep covered in a cold sweat.

He felt lightheaded and dizzy as he struggled to breath. Looking over at his desk and dresser that lay off to the side of his bed, he noticed that he had knocked over many of the small items that were once there. It was then he knew that it had happened again...He had another one of his 'dreams.' Briefly, Scott caught a glimpse of his clock radio which now lay on the floor. It read 12:30 AM, but that didn't mean much to Scott as he tried to rid his mind of the unpleasant images that had plagued his dream for so many years. Only now, they were becoming a lot more vivid lately...And bottling them up like he had been doing for years now was getting harder than ever.

These dreams...Were anything but dreams. They were memories....Memories of the sad, tragic story that was his life. He felt trapped in his own mind because he had to live with such pain. Every day he had live with this and every night he had to struggle with it as they plagued his dreams. Lately, it had only been getting worse...And there seemed little that he could do about it. Every feeling was intensified...Every painful memory was more vivid. As he continued to try and catch his breath...He felt tears in his eyes even though they were covered with his glasses. But he no longer had the strength to fight them as he buried his hands in his face...Trying to make it all go away, but to no avail.


Across the hall from Scott's room, the dreams that had plagued his nightmares were now being felt by another. Jean Grey, who was a powerful psychic and a lifelong friend of Scott in more ways than one...Tossed in her bed as she saw countless images of pain, loss, and rape. The images were that of a young boy that she knew all too well. Then...She soon bolted up from her sleep as the painful memories came to ahead. And through a soft buzz within her head...She sensed the inner turmoil through her mind and she immediately knew the source of it all.

"Oh no...Scott," she said silently as she quickly got up out of her bed and rushed over to Scott's room.

Jean found the door had been left unlocked, and she wasted no time entering Scott's room to see him grabbing the sides of his head with a look of intense inner pain on his face.

"Scott..." said Jean softly as she slowly made her way over to him, closing the door behind her.

She could sense that this dream had been more vivid than usual. As bad as these occurrences were...It was nothing new...Not for either of them. Nightmares were just one of the many things that plagued their lives. And whenever one of them was in pain...The other would feel it. Ever since Scott and Jean had been at the institute, they shared a special bond. Over time that bond had grown a lot deeper. It had gotten to a point where they shared each other's dreams...And nightmares. It was a special link that allowed them to be there for one another as friends...And much more.

As Jean sat next to Scott's side on his bed, he slowly slid an arm around her waist and held her closely. Jean could feel his mind in her head starting to relax ever so slightly as she rested herself against him, trying to sooth what he had just been through.

"It happened again..." said Scott softly as his breathing started to become more regular.

"I know..." whispered Jean as she gently stroked the side of his face, "I felt it."

Scott tried to look away after that, but found it hard not to stare in to Jean's deep, green eyes.

"I'm sorry..." said Scott, who never liked the idea of Jean feeling his pain.

"Don't be...You've endured my nightmares, Scott...The least I can do is endure yours."

That helped calm the both of them down a bit as they simply sat there holding each other in the late hours of the night. Sleep was now the last thing on their minds as the images of the nightmare stayed burned in to their minds. Whenever Scott had a bad dream or whenever Jean had one...They usually ended up like this, sitting in each others arms...Wishing for all the pain to go away.

"Wanna get some air?" asked Jean as she broke the silence that had fallen over them, "You look like you need it."

Scott didn't have the strength to go back to sleep now...And he still found it hard to breathe after what he had just experienced in his dream. Outside didn't sound like such a bad idea now as he wiped the cold sweat off his forehead.

"Sure...Let's go."

And with that, they both got up from the bed and headed out hand and hand in to the night...But not before they grabbed a small pack of cigarettes stashed away in a drew and stashed them in their pockets.


AN: Well, that's it for chapter one. I know its a little angsty and it was a little harsh on Scott, but that's his past in this story. It's not very different when compared to other X-men universes, but I know it's a bit more graphic in dealing with the violence and rape that was described. And I'm sorry to say that Jean's past isn't much better. You'll find out more in the later chapters, but for now please tell me what you thought so far! I always love getting feedback so please send your thoughts to me at my email address or post them on the fanfiction website! Thanks for reading and best wishes to you all!

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