round 3 overflow post

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Round 3 Overflow Post

This post is for Round 3 fills only. We ask that when a round hits 8500 comments, fillers begin moving their fills to this post.

Format:
SUBJECT LINE -- Round #, short description of fic (ex: "Alex/Hank, lab partners")
--- Link to the prompt
--- Text of the prompt

--- Link to the fill
OR
--- Entire text of the fill

EXAMPLE:
Prompt: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=1038472#t2038174

Charles/Erik -- Charles is a bakery owner whose most frequent customer is Erik.

Fill: http://xmen-firstkink.livejournal.com/6437.html?thread=0139482#t4502942

Charles started off the morning the same way he always did...

Comments

Opposition - Scott - Part 2a/3

[(Anonymous)]

Scott blinked back dizziness as he regained consciousness, the actions which had led him to this situation rushing back to him. They were supposed to have been disabling the reactor but he’d be drugged with something. He’d not been able to control himself, had been fighting in his head to finish the mission and yet his body had refused to comply, Storm had tried to contact him but he’d been unable to answer her. Then Alex had shown up. Scott felt a rush of feeling that he could only describe as fear as he raced back down the corridor to the spot where his little brother had blasted him. For a moment he couldn’t see Alex and he began to mentally calculate the likelihood that somebody in the facility had found him and taken him away.

Then he spotted the figure slumped at the bottom of the stairs.

Damnit Alex had never been any good at calculating his power’s recoil.

“Alex!” he yelled, hoping that the shout would be enough to trigger a response. His brother remained motionless. He raced down the stairs, cursing himself mentally for ending up so far astray of their original plan.

“Alex…?” he repeated, quieter this time, taking quick stock of his sibling’s injuries. They were as bad as he’d predicted. One arm lay at a grotesque angle, clearly broken, and blood leaked from both a wound to his brother’s temple and another on the back on his head, if the ragged edge to his breathing was anything to judge by then his ribs were at least cracked, if not broken. Scott repressed the roar of guilt in the back of his mind - that could wait until they were out of here, right now he needed to be Cyclops, leader of the X-Men, and get them both out of here. “Alex!”

Alex gave an incoherent groan in response, heaving as he pushed himself up into a sitting position. Scott reached out to steady him, supporting the broken arm that Alex seemed to be ignoring. “Havok in the field, remember?” Alex said, blinking dazedly, “Or Cyclops bitches.”

Under any other circumstances Scott was sure he would have put up a mask of irritation with which to conceal grudging amusement at what Alex was saying, but as it was the declaration only served as a proof of concussion. As he made this observation he realised that Alex was trying futilely to get up and so reluctantly matched the effort, knowing that sooner or later he would need to get Alex upright anyway so as to get them out of here.

Alex was half slumped against him, in a way that Scott knew would in the future be denied so thoroughly that even he’d being to doubt the fact of it, and muttering about the reactor.

“Alex,” he instructed, “You need to….”

"Havok!" Alex snapped. "You have to…” Alex trailed off, his eyes darting around the corridor, “…call me Havok…” he continued, as if he’d never stopped. “Thassarules,” he slurred, “Cyclopsscott he... there're rules on mississions... mission... the reactor!" Alex tried to stagger away from him then, and Scott was forced to hold him in place.

“You have a concussion,” Scott explained, unsure of how much Alex was processing but determined to at least attempt to get through to him. “You have to stay put. I’ll get the reactor.” And he’d be getting it quickly too. Even with several years experience of going on actually missions he felt constantly ill-prepared to deal with injured persons, preferring to hand that sort of work off to Jean, or occasionally Storm, or really anybody better suited to such tasks than him. The fact that in this case the injured person was a teammate, was his brother, babbling into his shoulder about finding and leaving and finding things only made the situation worse. There was a reason he didn’t usually give Alex field assignments.