My Dinner With Alaric

Posted on Mon Jun 16th, 2025 @ 6:22pm by Jean Grey-Summers & Scott Summers & Alaric Thane
Edited on on Mon Jun 16th, 2025 @ 6:26pm

6,492 words; about a 32 minute read

Mission: Episode 6: X-Fernus Agenda
Location: Baxter Building | Manhattan
Timeline: January 15th, 1990

Jean struck a match and lit the candles that had been placed on their dining room table. Along with the lace table cloth and china plates, the setting was incredibly formal in its design.

“Do you think he likes Italian? I should have asked when we saw him last,” Jean asked Scott while her eyes remained fixed on the dinner table, her brow furrowed as she appraised the set up and Scott could feel how nervous she was. Developing a good relationship with Scott’s son meant a lot to her, so much so that she had fussed and fretted about this dinner for days. Her green eyes suddenly went wide as she realized something, “What if he’s a vegetarian?!”

"No son of mine is a vegetarian!" Scott bellowed in mock rage before cracking into a coy smirk. "I don't think he knows Italian from Indian, but from the look of him, I'd say he's definitely getting his protein." Scott sidled up to her and coiled an arm around her shoulders. "You cook with love, just like you do everything else. I'm sure he will devour whatever you make and we'll all have a wonderful time."

Assuaging Jean's nervousness went a long ward toward managing his own. Christopher, now Alaric, was Scott's own age, perhaps even older, and had grown up in a hellscape under perpetual threat of war or catastrophe. It was the exact opposite of what Scott and Jean wanted for him. Yet here he was, on their doorstep, world weary and more of a peer than a son. It was enough to make Scott's head spin. Encouraging Jean helped keep his head on straight. "Although I do hope I'm everything he hoped for."

“Of course you are!” Jean replied almost immediately after the words left his mouth. “You want to care for him, you want what’s best for him… that’s the best thing a father can give a child. Unconditional love and acceptance goes a long way no matter the path a child takes.”

Jean excluded herself from the conversation because she wasn’t actually related to Alaric despite the fact that she wanted to care for him. Her desire came off as overly enthusiastic, hence the incredibly formal and gourmet meal she had prepared for them.

“We just have to go slow and remain consistent and hopefully he sees that we want to be a part of his life.” Jean smiled at him, “If he’s anything like you, he’ll understand and appreciate that we care.”

Scott nodded, the corners of his mouth curling with affection as he looked at her. "You're right," he admitted. "As usual."

He tugged her gently against him, resting his forehead briefly against hers. "But if he really is like me... well, brace yourself. He might be stubborn to a fault. That's not just a Summers trait—it's practically the family crest."

Sensing the knot of worry in her chest didn't completely untangle, Scott softened. His voice dropped the playful edge as he added, "You know, he doesn't have a mother in the world world. Not really. Not with what Kurt and Pietro said about Aurora." He shook his head. They had reported her going completely bonkers in Kamar-Taj with an imaginary baby and couldn't be happier. "Whatever's left of her... that's not someone who can be there for him. Not now." He pulled back slightly, his hand still in hers. "That's why I want you to come with me when I show him the nursery."

“Scott… I…” Jean was about to protest but the reality was that she had poured her heart into that nursery. The physical labor of turning that space into something welcoming had been part of her own healing journey. “Thank you, I would like that.”

She kissed him briefly and it reminded her that they were better together. Jean was a part of Scott’s life and she shouldn’t discount herself.

Before Jean had the chance to say anything else, her head turned towards the front door. “They’re here.” Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress, she made her way to the door and opened it. Alaric and Kurt stood outside.

“Hi, hello. Please come in.” Jean stood to the side and gestured for them to step inside.

Kurt offered a small smile and a slight bow of his head. “Hallo, Jean,” he said warmly, his voice gentle as always. “It smells wonderful inside.” Then, with an elegant gesture and a deferential smile, he stepped aside and extended one arm toward his companion. “After you, Alaric.”

Alaric gave a silent nod to Kurt as he walked in. He'd enjoyed many new dishes at Xavier's over the last few days and wondered how much extra training he'd need to do just to work it off. But they had all smelled good and Jean's was no exception. "It does smell wonderful. Thank you."

As Jean closed the door behind them, Scott took encouragement from her hopeful smile. His posture was straight, as always, but his stance was unsure. He couldn't even decide what to call Alaric. Son? Sir? Buddy? Sport? There was no manual for this kind of reunion.

"Alaric," Scott said simply, his voice steady but tentative. The word carried weight, like a name remembered from a dream—one that belonged to someone he hadn't yet met but always somehow knew. "Would you like something to drink? We have water, tea, soda... I think there's some sparkling cider if you’d like."

"I'll have water," Kurt replied, discreetly stepping toward the corner of the room. He placed himself just outside the conversation, not disengaged, but allowing the emotional current of the family to flow unimpeded. He clasped his hands behind his back, gaze flickering gently over the space in a way that made him seem almost like a steward of the moment.

"Water was always a welcome commodity over the years," said Alaric. "And that's what I've stuck with over the last few days. I've seen the students drink some of those other things you mentioned, but I've never tried them. Which one would you recommend...Father." Calling Scott by his first name seemed odd to him after learning exactly who he was. Which he still couldn't quite get over considering the stories he'd heard growing up.

Scott's heart caught in his throat at the word. Father. He blinked, just once, and felt the breath hitch in his chest. He hadn't been prepared for that—not really, not in any way that counted. It wasn't the word itself that stunned him, but the quiet certainty behind it. A name he'd never truly earned. A title he'd only ever dreamed of hearing. It could have broken him. But instead, it centered him.

Scott exhaled slowly and smiled, a rare, vulnerable thing. He didn't deflect or downplay it. He accepted it, not because he had a right to, but because Alaric had chosen to give it.

"Well," he said, his voice warmer now, even if a little unsteady at the edges, "if you're feeling adventurous, the cider's probably the safest gamble. Sweet. Fizzy. Celebratory."

Alaric smirked. "Adventurous is always how I feel. So sparkling cider sounds interesting." He walked in a little more and looked around the place. "So, in my bedtime stories growing up, you and the X-Men were always fighting someone. Do you two still do that? Or are you more...what's the word...retired?"

"No, not exactly." Scott couldn't help but chuckle; "retired" made him sound so old and he was barely into his prime. "Most our battles these days are in an insidious form called politics. But we brush off our field uniforms when the need arises."

"Zhere is not a lone ruler of zhis vorld," Kurt offered by way of explanation, "but hundreds, and not all of zhem hold ze power of kings, at least not any more. Politics is ze struggle vhich arises vhen kings must share power."

Scott nodded. "More or less a good summary. Thanks, Kurt." Looking back to Alaric, he added, "So we speak for the weak and downtrodden and make sure our leaders actually listen."

“Not all battles require fists and brute force.” Jean chimed in as she began to peel off the foil from the bottle of sparkling cider. “We’re still helping mutants and stopping those who would try to hurt them. It’s just a different tactical approach.”

She released the cork from the bottle and despite the known ‘pop’ that occurred, Jean still managed to jump and laugh from its opening. Reaching out for their glasses, she poured each of them a bit of the bubbly golden liquid.

“I feel like we should have a toast,” Jean replied while handing out the glasses.

"Danke," said Kurt, grateful for the upgrade despite his humble request for water. "May I hef ze pleasure?"

"By all means," Scott said, nodding again.

Kurt raised his glass, his golden eyes alight with warmth and a hint of mischief. "Ein Toast," he began, his accent rich, but his tone reverent. "To new beginnings, unexpected blessings, und ze strange grace of family." He held the glass slightly higher, smile softening as it turned inward for just a breath. "May ve find peace in a vorld zhat rarely offers it, und courage enough to keep fighting vhen it does not.” Then, with a half-bow and a glimmer in his eye, he said, "Zum Wohl."

"Cheers," Scott said, assuming that was Kurt's sentiment as he raised his glass to join his.

Alaric shook his head the concept of politics. Belasco would never allow anything like that to happen in Limbo. An inkling of something like that would have been crushed instantly as a rebellion and the leaders, extinguished.

He accepted the glass from Jean with a smile and a nod. The liquid inside looked interesting to say the least. And when he tried to smell it, the bubbles popped at his nose, causing him to wrinkle it. He watched the others and listened as Kurt gave his speech. He saw Scott raise his glass in similar fashion to Kurt and followed suit.

There was nothing like this in the dark, demonic realm he'd come from. If there were any celebrations, they would have been grim or a part of the rituals of the realm. But he understood fighting when there was no peace. "I've never seen any ritual like this that didn't have a sacrifice or some mystical energy tied to it. Still, ad victoriam." (*to victory*)

“Chin Chin.” Jean joined in on their toast before clicking glasses and taking a sip of her drink. The cider was so sweet that the taste lingered in her mouth. “I’m surprised that Lorna didn’t have you celebrate her birthday…” They had briefly discussed Lorna and her life in Limbo. While they knew she had changed and lived a whole life without them, Jean couldn’t help but talk about her friend like she was the same girl that had grown up with her. “She would make the excuse of an entire birthday celebration month as a teenager.”

"She may have done that when I was younger, before I can remember," said Alaric. "Mother would talk often of you and the team and how it was all like a family at Xavier's. I think I remember some things about a variety of birthdays, especially when Iceman was around to celebrate." He took another drink of the cider. "I think she would be happy to know that you and Father are doing so well."

Scott blinked slowly at Alaric's words. The cider fizzed faintly in his glass, but he didn't drink.

The image of Lorna—his Lorna, green-haired and sassy, fearless and bright—now stretched across decades he would never touch, changed in ways he couldn't fathom. She hadn't just survived Limbo; she had lived there, grown up there, raised a child there. His child she had taken for her own. And somehow, through it all, she had never wavered.

A tremor worked its way through his throat before he swallowed it down like stone. "I owe her," Scott said quietly, voice thick but steady. "More than I can say..."

There was a beat of silence before Kurt gently filled it, stepping forward with a soft clink of his own glass against the table. His tone was light but sincere, carrying that familiar timbre that soothed without softening the truth.

"I never knew Lorna before," Kurt began. "But ze voman I met in Limbo... she is remarkable. Not just for surviving, but for binding togesther so many osthers who should hef been lost. Mutants from Genosha... many beyond saving, or so ve zhought."

Kurt's gaze wandered briefly, his memories vivid. "I saw Victor Creed at her side. Not a savage brute but a protector who scouted ze vasteland to protect ze borders of zheir blessed enclave. Und ze Windrider was anosther. Ze former Chief Magistrate stood watch over ze very mutants she once oppressed und brought rainwater to an arid land." He gave a thoughtful tilt of his head, golden eyes glowing faintly even in the light. "Vhat Lorna accomplished in zhat realm is a living testament to Herr Professor's tutelage," Kurt said, looking at Alaric as the proof of his words. "It may not hef been Xavier's school, but it vas still his legacy."

“I miss her…” Jean said with a sad twinge of nostalgia. “She was my little sister.” That was a funny idea seeing as how Lorna was much older than all of them, the idea that she looked up to Jean didn’t fit anymore. “I hope when you save them we get to see her. I wish she could be at our wedding but the idea that she’s alive still, it’s comforting.”

Jean stood up and looked towards the kitchen, her carefully crafted dinner was almost ready and waiting for her to finish it. “Are you joining us for dinner, Kurt?”

Realizing that he was not actually invited, Kurt took two steps back and placed his hand over his chest. "Ach, nein, nein, I do not vant to impose..."

While Scott liked Kurt, he was quietly grateful that dinner would just be the three of them. This was supposed to be a private time for getting to know his long lost son. He gave Kurt a solemn nod to trust that particular instinct.

"... so I vill be back in a few hours, ja?" Kurt flashed a fanged grin of embarrassment at realizing he had overstayed his welcome. "See you zhen."

BAMF!

"I hope you're hungry," Scott said to Alaric now that they were alone. "Jean has been slaving all afternoon in the kitchen to make us a feast."

“I wanted it to be special…” Jean waved her hand through the air in an attempt to downplay how much work she had put into this evening. “Plus, I’m nervous and having something to do helps.”

She disappeared into the kitchen for a few minutes before returning with a large antipasto platter. Meats, cheeses, vegetables and crackers filled the tray. “I went shopping in Little Italy tonight, so it’s all Italian food.” Jean seemed nervous but also proud of the carefully curated spread she had provided. She set the appetizer down and offered Alaric a weak smile before they all sat down together. “Hopefully you like it, I don’t really know what you would prefer… but I can learn.”

Alaric looked at the tray of food that was set before him. He picked up one of the meats and rolled it between his fingers before smelling it. A cracker was next and it reminded him of fire roasted, flaky breads, but without the fire roast. He examined a slice of cheese and eyed the somewhat squishy yet solid matter. He put the meat and cracker together, taking a bite.

The meat, whatever it was, had a bold and savory flavor with hint of something spicy. That flavor, along with the cracker, had a texture and grit That was reminiscent of preserved rations that he would take when he traveled outside the temple. He smiled. "I like this." He took another meat and cracker combination before sitting back slightly.

"Survival was the name of the game in Limbo," said Alaric. "We ate what we had to and we never asked what was in the stew." He chuckled, "Growing up in Limbo teaches you important life lessons. Like how to tell if your food is trying to eat you first. So I guess this is a journey the three of us will take together. Which foods I like and which foods I don't." He paused and looked at Jean, "You don't have food that tries to eat you first here on Earth, do you?" He put the meat and cracker in his mouth and smiled.

“No, not really.” Jean said with a short laugh, “There are predators and dangerous animals on Earth, but here in the city the worst you’ll see are pigeons. But I did make Cioppino for our main course which is kind of funny now that you’re telling me what you normally ate.”

She reached out and fixed a small plate for Scott before making her own. “I guess I’ll just have to make you all of our favorites to start out with… that is if you’re willing to come and eat dinner with us again.”

There it was again, Jean’s nervous uncertainty. Alaric wasn’t obligated to see them or speak to them, it wasn’t even guaranteed that he would like them.

“The guys,” Jean gestured towards the hallway and where the rest of X-Factor, the former First Class resided. “They have always liked my meatloaf… it tastes better than it sounds.”

"I would welcome the invitation to have dinner with you again and try some more Earth food. This loaf of meat sounds intriguing," said Alaric. "If I can get away from the school, that is. There is so much going on there... and most of it leisurely. At least it seems so to me. But, yes, I'd like the opportunity to spend more time with you and Father," he said, looking to Scott.

"So would I..." Scott's taciturn stonewall expression cracked a bit as he choked with emotion. Preparing himself for a baby had been earth-shattering enough. Now that his grown son was staring him in the face and expressing his desire to have dinner and share life together, Scott found it more than surreal. "This... wasn't how things were supposed to be, Alaric..." It took much restraint not to call him Christopher, a name with deep personal meaning for Scott but was likely to be beyond meaningless to his son. "But... you are everything I ever hoped for. And... what I mean to say... is that you're welcome here anytime."

How could he express what he wanted Alaric to know? They were from entirely different worlds. Literally. But as Scott faced that quandary, a thought occurred to him. "Hey... I want to show you something. Come with me."

Scott led them down the hall to the room that had once been Bobby's crash pad until they finally forced him out and into his own neighboring apartment on the same floor. When Scott opened the door, it revealed a nursery which had been left just the way they'd prepared it over two months ago. A crib with a dangling mobile, a changing station next to it, a rocking chair in the corner, all offset by bright decor. Stepping aside, Scott gave Alaric a full view of the room and waited to see what he made of the sight.

Alaric followed Scott to the room and then took a step inside. Since the fires and the influx of mutants along with the other rescued humans in Limbo, Alaric had seen rooms where babies had been born and lived. The accommodations in their ancient temple were much different than this, but baby beds, cleaning stations, and seats still had a basic appearance. "Little ones are innocent, much like I used to be before my eyes were opened to Limbo," he said matter of factly. "As I grew in stature and strength and power, I swore I'd protect them and Clan Askani after what Mother did for me. I did. And I will." He had no inkling that this room had been prepared for him. He turned to face Jean, assuming the room was for her and Scott's child. "And I make the oath for the innocence that you may bear. We are all part of the same Clan, er, family."

“Alaric, this was supposed to be your room.” Jean tried to remain upbeat but they both could hear the strain in her voice. “When we were finally allowed to bring you home, this was where you were going to stay.”

The room was cheerful and soft, safe and comfortable, all ideas and concepts that were alien to a life in Limbo. It was a glimpse into what his life would have been had he not been taken to another realm.

“How you came to be is probably the darkest and most painful point in our lives…” Jean took a step past him and opened one of the dresser drawers. She pulled out a baby’s blanket with the name ‘Christopher’ embroidered across it along with the few ultrasound pictures they had of him. “But you were the spot of light in that blackness. The beautiful and exciting prospect that reminded both of us that life is wonderful. We wanted you so badly…” Her voice wavered and she had to pause to keep from crying. “We wanted to love you with all of our hearts.”

Alaric was silent for a few moments as Jean's words sank in. He looked at the blanket with the name they had chosen for him and the surrounding room. He could only imagine how different his life might have been had this been his home as an infant.

"I can't change whatever happened. And I know it won't be the same as it would have been, but I'm here now. And I'll need people to teach me about this realm. In addition to the students at the school, of course. But I'll need someone to be a spot of light for me since Mother, Lorna, isn't here to help me."

Seeing a shot, Scott took it. "If... you ever grow tired of the school, we could convert this into an adult room. I know it's not the same as having a place of learning at your fingertips. There's no better teacher in all the world than Charles Xavier. Just... still. Remember it as an option."

"I'll remember it," said Alaric. "Though, I wouldn't want to stand in the way of any future endeavors. Still, thank you both. You are exactly like the stories Mother has told me." Nodding to Jean, "Caring and compassionate." Then to Scott, "Strong with a...nougaty...center. That's what I remember from youth. Maybe you can help me understand the meaning."

“I’ll buy you a candy bar before I explain what nougat is.” Jean said with a laugh as she put away Alaric’s baby blanket, she liked the idea of spoiling him with treats and luxuries that were alien to him.

“As for the room as it is…” She trailed off as she examined the space, it created another wave of emotions inside of her. “I was in a very bad place mentally when we moved here and decorating this apartment and this room in particular, it created a lot of hope in me… Hope I thought I had lost.” Jean paused as she reached out and touched a worn out stuffed rabbit that had been loved and lost one of its glass eyes a long time ago, a stuffed animal from her past. “Expecting your arrival and then thinking we had lost you, it made both of us realize how much we want a family of our own.”

She reached out for Scott and wrapped an arm around his waist. Scott instinctively wrapped a single arm over her shoulders. “I don’t know when, but we do hope to use this room as it’s currently intended to be… a nursery for someone, someday. But that is thanks to you… so thank you for playing your part in all of this. Maybe we can set up one of the smaller apartments for you? It has a terrible view but I think that’s a matter of opinion.”

The three of them shared a soft chuckle at Jean’s remark about the terrible view. Even Alaric, still adjusting to Earth’s odd customs and humor, gave a lopsided grin. The moment was gentle, unforced—an unspoken acknowledgment that something had begun to mend.

Then Scott's nose twitched. He tilted his head and inhaled. "That smells..." He turned toward the hallway and grinned. "Come on, we don't want dinner getting cold. Tonight is Cioppino. I hope you like fish."

---

Later, seated around the table with a warm bowl of seafood stew in front of each of them, the evening carried on with a quiet, content energy. Bread was passed, wine was poured, and Alaric took to the new flavors with cautious curiosity. His palate had been raised on dried herbs, fire-charred meat, and salvaged fungi—this was decadence.

After everyone had eaten their fill and the table sat scattered with empty bowls, shells, and napkins, Scott leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. "Now that," he said with a satisfied exhale, "was delicious. Jean, I don't get to say this often but you've outdone yourself."

Scott turned to Alaric. "And I don’t know how customs go in Limbo, but here on Earth, there's a sacred tradition: the cook never cleans." He stood to his feet and started gathering dishes. "Come on, I'll show you to the kitchen."

Alaric followed Scott into the kitchen and looked around. "This realm is really interesting. It'll take me some time to learn all of these sacred traditions. But I do have some questions," he said, looking for something to clean the dishes with. "I've been thinking about what was said at the mansion several days ago. I always thought I was born in Limbo to the Goblin Queen and she cared for me the first three years of my life. Then she abandoned me and Lorna saved me, becoming my mother in a sense. And then I find out that you're my father. I can't make it all makes sense. Did... how do I put this? Did you actually mate with the Goblin Queen? And when?"

That was such a loaded question that Scott nearly gagged on his own tongue. "Uh... that is a long story that I'm not sure anybody wants to hear, but... yes, that happened when Jean was lost to us and... I had lost myself along with her."

Alaric stood there a moment, silently drying dishes while it all sank in. A few seconds later, he slowly nodded. "I lost a part of myself in Limbo. I could not imagine what it feels like to lose the entirety of myself. But, that's all I needed to clear up. She abandoned me to Lord Belasco in exchange for something else. She means nothing to me," he added coldly. "We need speak of it no more."

Alaric placed another clean dish in its storage area and began drying another. "I call Lorna Mother because that's what she is to me. She raised me and cared for me and protected me as her own. And because she is the Mother Askani. You are Father...regardless of how close in age we are." He looked to Scott and smirked. "But what is Jean in relation to me?"

Thinking of Lorna as a maternal figure would take a lot of getting used to. Scott didn't know if he could ever make that leap. When Alaric raised his question of Jean's role in his life, Scott took a breath and slowly released it through his lips. "Well, Alaric... that is entirely up to you. We—she showed you what you meant to us. What you still do." He nodded back toward the nursery. "Jean is my wife. We'll make it official soon and would love for you to be there. I suppose if everything had gone according to plan before Aurora... did what she did... then Jean would've taken the role that Lorna did. I'm sure that it's not too late for any of us to find that."

Alaric nodded, remembering the baby blanket and the room. "I agree that we can still find that. It would be different as I'm older and may take time and trust, but it must start somewhere." He put the glass next to the other ones. "I would be most honored to be at your wedding, Father. Yours and...Jean's."

"We'll save you a seat," Scott said, "right up front. It means a lot to us, me and Jean."

He put the towel on the counter for a moment and turned to Scott. "It feels just as odd to call her by her given name as it does you by yours. There is a word in Belasco's language of Limbo, noverca. Do you think she would mind if I called her that?"

"I don't know what that means but I'm sure she'll love it." Scott cracked a smirk. "If I'm painfully honest, I'm having a hard time with 'Alaric' after all the time I spent thinking of you as Christopher." Looking Alaric up and down, Scott shook his head ever so slightly in disbelief. "Yet here you are, larger than life..." He chuckled at a sudden recollection. "... the spitting image of my father's old check-ride photos, though that's not exactly a flight suit you got on there. Seems fitting since I was going to name you after him."

"It sounds like a strong name, one that would hold much power and sway," he said. "A generational name. A legacy that I hope that I can live up to."

Alaric then gave that half smile and raised eyebrow he'd done for years. "Well, here we are then. Both of us using words that the other one knows nothing about." He laughed, "Noverca for me and check-flight and flight suit for you. But, Noverca is a word for a woman that marries a man who already has children. They are not hers by birth, so she is their Noverca."

Scott paused for a moment, quietly stacking a few plates before leaning against the counter. His gaze drifted to the window over the sink. The thought of Alaric’s childhood full of children besides himself being raised in demon-scorched cathedrals, of hope forged in fire, gave the word Noverca a kind of sacred dignity.

"That's a good word," he replied. "Noverca. I imagine there were a lot of women like that among the Clan Askani. People who stepped in because someone had to... even if it wasn't their blood. That kind of love means more sometimes."

He looked back to Alaric with quiet reverence. "You know, I never considered how many of your people had to become mothers, fathers, siblings to children they never expected. Makeshift families forged under fire. There must be so many stories like that..."

The next question lingered in his throat for a beat before he let it out. "Were marriages common in the Clan? I mean, as far as ceremony goes. Or was everything more... practical? Survival first, love second?" He gave Alaric a gently teasing smirk. "And while we're at it, ever have someone special? A girl who made that brutal world a little less so? I know Limbo isn't exactly full of candlelight dinners, but..." He shrugged and waited for Alaric's reply.

He nodded solemnly. "There were, are, especially after the fires and the devastation. There are many stories like that. Maybe once we save the others, Mother can relate some of them. She would remember more than I would."

"Marriages were more practical," he continued. "You're right that it was more about survival and taking care of others. There were very few, if any, ceremonies for that. Most came together on their own while some asked the Mother Askani."

He paused, thinking of how to answer Scott's next question. "No, there wasn't any girl over there for me. I've never been in love." It was difficult for him to talk about his feelings, his vulnerabilities. "Most of the girls couldn't understand or accept what I had to become in order to survive and protect the Clan." There was a long pause as he considered how to approach the subject.

Nodding but not responding, Scott waited for Alaric to take the load off his chest. He was new with the whole fatherhood thing, but this definitely felt like a father-son moment.

It was something that had been gnawing at him since his introduction at the school. Something that someone in this realm needed to know about and it should be his Father and Noverca. At least that way, not everyone would be surprised when it happened. Not if, but when...it was only a matter of time.

"Go on, son," Scott said, letting the word slip out unintended. Once it did, he shared a smirk and let it stand. "Say what you want to say."

Alaric took a deep breath. "Mother knows, Clan Askani knows... hell, everyone and everything in Limbo knows. But somebody in this realm needs to know. Growing up, I learned the dark, arcane arts of Limbo. And became a decent sorcerer, if I do say so myself." He returned his father's smirk and continued.

"But Limbo requires a little bit of your soul each time. It's a morally and spiritually corrupting influence. Most human residents metamorphose into a full demonic entity as they give in to what Limbo requires for survival. Me, only partially. It did affect my mutant gene, though." He paused and chuckled, thinking of the portals. "Anyway, I once said that I was known by other names. Draconis is one. DarkFang is the other. And that one, that one came with a price." The tone of his voice became lower.

He turned to face Scott. "Eventually everyone will see DarkFang, it's only a matter of time. But with one of the most powerful telepaths here... if she were willing, she could see for herself." He tapped the side of his head. "And then she can show you. Or however that works."

That was quite a revelation. Scott had seen firsthand what Limbo had done to Aurora. To think that anything even remotely similar had happened to his firstborn son turned a pit in his stomach.

"I hear what you're saying," Scott replied, slowly at first. "I can't say I fully understand the extent of 'dark sorcery' and so on because, well, let's not get lost in semantics." There was skepticism and there was ignorance, and Scott was doing his best not to project one or the other. "What I can tell you is that it's not our abilities that define us but what we choose to do with them. Maybe you paid a price to lead and protect others with some buyer's remorse. Welcome to the club." Scott tried not to grimace at his own failures. "You aren't the only one who's made bad calls. But what I can tell you is that leadership, being a man, means building on even your mistakes because that is how you keep from repeating them." Looking Alaric in the eye, an effect usually diminished by his glasses, somehow Scott felt like it held added meaning now. "If you want to tell us more about what DarkFang means, then I'll listen, but I'm not worried about anything you have to share. It won't change a thing, not who you are or how I see you."

Alaric nodded. "Thank you, Father. Honestly, I don't like to talk about DarkFang a lot. It's part of me and I've accepted that. But someone needed to know. And it does me good to hear that you accept me, demons and all." He considered the things Scott had said; choosing what to do with his abilities, paying prices to lead, and building on mistakes. "Though, do you think this will prohibit me from living at the School?"

Scott shook his head, not even hesitating. "Not at all. If anything, it confirms you should be there." He took a slow step forward and placed a firm hand on Alaric's shoulder. "Xavier's was never about being perfect people. It was built for those lost and still figuring themselves out—mutants with complicated powers, scarred pasts, and questions no one else could answer. And when it comes to wrestling with darkness, you're in good company." Smiling wryly, Scott continued. "I've made decisions that nearly destroyed everything we'd built. But the Professor helped me find my way back. I'm confident he can do the same for you."

It took a significant amount of willpower for Alaric not to wince or recoil at Scott's touch. This was not a battle in Limbo. This was Earth. This was peaceful. This was his Father.

"Thank you, Father. I trust that I will be able to find my way back. I've learned how to live with the darkness while in Limbo. But I'll need help learning that here on Earth. And it sounds like Professor Xavier is the one to do that." He hesitated, unsure of what to do in moments like this. "Maybe we should rejoin Noverca?"

"Sure..." The discomfort of physical touch wasn't lost on Scott. He withdrew his hand and stuffed it in his pants pocket. "You know... if there's anyone who understands a dark side, it's Jean. Either of us will help you shoulder whatever it is you're afraid of. Remember that, okay?"

He was going to have to remember to ask Jean about that dark side thing that Scott mentioned. "I will remember," he said and then chuckled. "But I'm not afraid of DarkFang, I've learned to use him over the years. People fear what they don’t understand. Me? I understand exactly what I am. That’s what makes it terrifying."

"Fair enough," Scott said with a wry chuckle. "Somehow I think you'll fit right in." A faint twitch of his neck gave away Jean reaching out to him. "Well, it seems like your 'ride' is here. Let's get our goodbyes out of the way." He reached out, only awkward at first, and pulled Alaric into an embrace. "Thank you," he whispered, "for coming, for trying, for... everything."

The two men stood there together for a moment longer.

 

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