Idle Hands

Posted on Mon Jun 23rd, 2025 @ 9:31pm by Scott Summers & Alex Summers

2,207 words; about a 11 minute read

Mission: Episode 0: X Lang Syne
Location: X-Mansion
Timeline: June 19, 1990

The heat in the garage was stifling, the kind that stuck to your skin and turned every metal tool into a branding iron. June in Westchester often had a way of cooking even the shadows, and the open bay doors did little to invite relief. A box fan thumped in the corner that managed little more than circulating hot air. Outside the cicadas buzzed like static.

Scott stood just inside the threshold, arms folded, watching his brother hunched beneath the open hood of the Jeep they’d rebuilt together. The old rig still bore the scars of their earliest attempts but she ran. It had been a way for them to bond after growing up apart. Now it seemed like one of their only points of connection.

"Need a hand?" Scott asked, voice low but steady. It was said that men talked best side by side rather than face to face. If there was a bug up Alex’s butt, the best way to draw it out seemed to be getting their hands greasy together like the old days.

But Alex didn’t respond right away. Scott gave up waiting for an invitation and stepped up to see what Alex was doing. “Flushing the coolant system,” he noted. “Something wrong with the head?”

“No, I’m just looking to see how we got the drive belt to keep from slipping. I’m having the same issue with the Woodie.” Alex replied as he stood up and pulled his head out from under the hood. His shaggy blonde hair hung in his eyes thanks to being limp from sweat. He ran a forearm across his forehead and faintly smeared some grease across his face. “I can’t get the damn thing to stay on and it overheats before you get to Salem Center.”

“So… do you want a hand?” Scott repeated a little more pointedly. The question was charged by a look of befuddled irritation. It Alex didn't want Scott's help, he should just say so. “I'm free.”

There was an uncomfortably long pause as Alex mentally weighed the costs and benefits of Scott’s assistance. They didn’t talk much as of late because the conversations usually ended in strained and unresolved conflict. But he needed to get his station wagon up and running, Lorna was depending on him. Despite the tension between them as of late, Alex knew Scott was the answer.

“Yeah. Sure.” There was no trace of gratitude or happiness in his tone, instead he turned his back to Scott and began to walk over to the wood-bodied station wagon. “The belt wants to slip no matter what I try…” Alex popped the hood of the car and gestured at the coolant system. “Maybe you can figure it out.”

Scott followed Alex without a word, stopping beside the Woodie as the hood groaned open. He leaned in, eyes scanning the pulleys, brackets, and tensioner like it was a chessboard. He didn’t say anything at first, just crouched, reached in, and gave the belt a slow, careful turn.

“It’s not the belt,” he said finally. “It’s your bracket mount. This bolt’s stripped, so it’s not holding tension.” He ran his thumb along the wobble of the alternator. “The mount's flexing every time the engine torques up. That’s why the belt slips.”

Alex didn’t respond. He just watched as Scott got up, walked over to the red toolbox, and found the right socket. A few minutes and a spare bolt later, Scott wiped his hands and stood back. “Go on,” he said, nodding toward the driver’s seat. “Fire it up.”

Alex climbed in and turned the key. The Woodie came alive with a gentle growl, steady and strong. The belt didn’t chirp. Didn’t whine. The idle was clean.

“Purrs like a kitten,” Scott said, almost proud, tossing the shop rag over his shoulder. “We still make a good team under the hood.”

“That wasn’t team work, that was you doing it all.” Alex grumbled under his breath as he turned the engine off and stepped out of the driver’s seat. There was a pause, the kind that hung in the air before a storm or a confession.

Scott leaned back against the fender, arms crossed, and studied his brother. “So,” he said at last, “you gonna tell me what’s been eating at you lately? Or are we just gonna keep pretending nothing’s wrong until one of us blows a gasket?”

“I’m not pretending that nothing is wrong, I’m avoiding conflict because Lorna asked me to play it cool until we…” Alex snorted a frustrated breath through his nose, if they were going to do this he would start at the beginning. “Things haven’t been great between us for the last year or so, don’t act like things are fine because I follow directions while we’re wearing our suits because it goes so much deeper than that.”

Alex took another long pause as he calmed himself enough to continue. “When I was a kid and I first arrived here I thought it was the coolest, you were the coolest. Sure, I smoked too much weed and acted like a punk but things leveled out especially after Lorna arrived. Then things were really great… Jean and Lorna adore each other and we got along so well. The X-Men, school, downtime all of it flowed so well and this place… you, it all felt like a big family.”

Alex and Scott had been separated shortly after their parent’s death. He had been adopted almost immediately thanks to his sandy blonde hair and dimples when he smiled. While the damaged and dangerous Scott was left to foster care.
Too little to protest the separation, Alex grew up with his adopted parents until his mutation manifested as a teenager and Charles Xavier knocked on his door. “But then the direction, the schedule, the expectations… it all began to feel like I was being smothered. This place became more like a prison than a sanctuary and you’re the warden around here.”

“So it doesn't feel like a family anymore because you can't handle a little discipline?” Scott regretted the question as soon as he'd asked it, though not because it was untrue. He suspected he'd hit the mark. The regret was for what he expected Alex to say or do in response.

“A little discipline?!” Alex scoffed and bristled at the words. “I’d like to remind you that you aren’t my father and the idea of my brother deciding to discipline me is just as humiliating as it sounds. I don’t need you telling me what I should and shouldn’t do.”

“What, then?” Scott took in the Woodie, Alex's standoffishness, that haunting use of ‘we’. “After everything the team has done, after all we've been through together, what’s your plan? Head back to the Blandlings and pretend the Morlocks Massacre never happened? We promised…” He cut himself off abruptly. Emotions were rolling over and putting an unwanted edge to his voice. Crossing his arms over his chest, Scott ceded the floor and waited for Alex to explain himself.

“We promised each other a lot of things but at the end of the day I’m not sacrificing myself to uphold some child-made vow.” Despite Alex’s building rage he managed to soften his tone a little, “This place, the X-Men, this life… they are all your dreams, Scott. Since the moment I arrived here I’ve been an addition to your vision. At times it’s been fun but as I’ve grown, I’m seeing the X-Men for what they really are… soldiers in another man’s war. I don’t want this life anymore.”

Scott balked at that. “War? What war? You sound like Magento.” He shook his head in disgust. “We're helping people, Alex. The world would be a very different place without the X-Men. Project Wideawake, Factor Three, those Mutates from the Savage Land. There wouldn't be a future for anybody if we hadn't stopped them.” Scott’s square cut jaw clenched. “If you're too selfish to live your life for anybody but yourself, then just say so. I could at least respect that honesty.”

“Such a fucking martyr all the time.” Alex chuckled as he mocked Scott. “Your head is so far up your own ass that you can’t even fathom anyone else wanting to live a life different than the one you see fit for them. Maybe I am tired of helping people? Maybe I am sick of sacrificing my life so that other people can live? Where’s my peace and my solace? So yeah… I am selfish for wanting a day where I don’t have to do drills to ensure I’m not killed on a battlefield. I am selfish because I want to spend my evenings alone with my girlfriend rather than at a family style dinner. I am selfish because I want a few years of my life where I’m not constantly reminded that I’m a mutant the world hates. We’ve been doing this since we were barely teenagers, I was strapped into the Blackbird before I had a driver’s license. Don’t make me out to be the villain because I want a chance at the same life everyone else gets to have.”

“Did you forget everything the Professor taught us?” Scott poked his finger into Alex’s chest. “The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. If you want to run around with your girlfriend and be a smug little dipshit, I won’t stop you. But I wouldn’t be a good leader if I didn’t tell you it’s a big mistake.” Almost as an afterthought, he added, “Or a good brother.” It fell a little flat, so Scott pushed ahead. “You think taking a step back is the right move, but really you’re just running away. That’s not a villain move. It’s a coward’s one.” He snorted in contempt, driving the point home. “You’re a good man, Alex. I’ve seen it. Doing something with that isn’t being a martyr. It’s called growing up.”

“Xavier gave us his blessing to leave!” Alex snapped back with the real answer to Scott’s question about what all of this meant and where he was going. “He understands what I’m saying and he doesn’t think less of me or of Lorna for wanting a break from all of this. It’s only you who refuses to listen or understand. You’d rather write me off as a coward and failure than see things from my perspective. So you’ll get your wish… after this next mission, we’re gone. And you can rule over this school as the high and mighty king you see yourself as.”

Where had that bright-eyed and idealistic boy gone and who was this self-righteous prick in front of him? Scott couldn’t begin to wonder. “Yeah, the Professor is very kind to washouts. I don’t want you to leave. I want you to be my brother like we were always meant to be.”

Rejection was burning Scott alive. Caught off-guard as he was, he had no way to pivot. If Alex wanted to go, that was bad enough. But to spit on everything they’d built together was a bridge too far. “But maybe you have to go back out in the world and see how it tastes without a silver spoon before you can appreciate the life we’ve built here.” His tone dropped into the depths of disdain. “I hope you find whatever you’re looking for.”

“A place without you… that’s my wish. So, yeah I’d say I’m going to be much happier.” Alex sneered.

It was a double-edged sentiment, like the old joint blessing and curse, ‘May you live in interesting times.’ Scott crossed his arms, fully expecting Alex to find nothing but disappointment. It would least mirror the look on his face.

“I stopped caring about what you think ages ago. I don’t care if you’re disappointed in me because your opinion means nothing.” Alex slammed the lid of the Woodie shut before heading towards the open doors. “I’ll stay out of your way and you stay out of mine, after this mission we’re waiting on ends… we’re gone.”

“Fine!” Scott called after him, then repeated it much quieter and less convincingly. “Fine.”

But it was anything but fine. Scott screwed up somewhere along the way and had apparently been blind to it. Whatever failure there was in Alex ultimately reflected on Scott himself. He was the team leader. He was Alex’s brother. Maybe distance would help heal what had been breached. Maybe it would show Scott what he should have done better and what he can do in the future.

For now, though, Scott turned reticent with a grimace like he had a lemon in his mouth.

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