Growing Up A Superhero (1) "'Lex? You 'wake?" There was silence from the bunk below. The boy sighed and lay back in bed, staring absently at the ceiling. After a bit he sat up, swinging sweat-pant covered legs over the side of the bed and jumping down to the floor. He landed softly considering the distance he jumped from, and then proceeded to pad through the hall and downstairs. Soft hazel eyes hidden by red glasses had already adjusted to the dim light, and he made his way easily past the three big chairs and then into the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator door he stood in front of the light, looking in. He reached back, scratching his headful of brown hair and leaving it a mess. If anyone had looked in right then, they would have seen a young boy--perhaps twelve--in sweat pants and tank top, hair in a jumble as only tossing and turning twelve year old boys can do, fine bones and what would someday be a strong jawline with already-broad shoulders, long arms and big eyes. If someone was willing to look in the future, all these features would obviously make him a very handsome man. But now wasn't the future; it was the present, and all these combined to make him long, lanky and slightly awkward looking. His shoulders were too big for his currently-small frame, his hands too large, his arms too long, and no meat on his slender, furiously growing body to fill him out. The boy, however, wasn't really aware of all this as he stood looking in the refrigerator. All he was aware of was that it was two o' clock in the morning, his brother wasn't awake, and he was. And there was nothing to do. Scott sighed and closed the door, letting it shut with a muffled "thump." Slowly he walked to the family room and turned the television on, leaving it low. But the best of shows weren't on at two in the morning, and he sat on the couch letting the TV play while he stared vacantly at it. His young face held a soul older than his years, aged prematurely when his parents had died suddenly in a plane wreck a few years ago. Scott would never admit it, but that was when the insomnia had started. And, if he was truthful with himself, it wasn't really insomnia. But older boys like him didn't get nightmares, and so "insomnia" was a good, long, important sounding word to use. "Scotty?" whispered a small voice from the hallway. Scott sat up and bent over, seeing a fluff of red hair. "That you?" "Right here, Angie," he called back, and a young girl with a frizzy carrot top and wide, brown eyes walked in. "I can't sleep." Scott sat back and opened one arm, and Angie crawled in, snuggling up beside him. "Will you tell me a story?" Scott rolled his eyes in the darkness of the room, feeling far too mature to be telling little kids stories. "Please?" That one word won him over, and he pursed his lips in thought. Angie turned the television off, then settled back again. "Okay," Scott said finally, taxing his imagination until he remembered an old story his mother used to tell him. "Once there were these bears, and they all lived together in the forest. There was a mama bear, and a papa bear, and a baby bear." And for the life of him he couldn't remember if there'd been a brother bear. He decided to put it in just for good measure. "There was a brother bear, too." Angie nodded and snuggled closer, closing her eyes. "So one day . . . " he remembered that the bears left the house, but he couldn't really remember why. "They went to play baseball," he said finally. "And while they were gone a little girl with yellow hair came into their house." He glanced over to see if Angie was asleep, but her eyes opened back up. "Keep going," she said politely. "So the little girl--her name was Goldilocks--went into the house and looked around." Scott paused. He remembered she broke chairs and things, but he couldn't rightly remember the order, or the words his mother used to say. Angie, seeming to sense this, helped him. "First she tasted the Papa Bear's porridge," she prodded. "Right. But it was too cold." "Hot," she corrected. "Oh. Then she tasted the Mother Bear's porridge." "Mama Bear," Angie said with a yawn. "Fine. She tasted the Mama Bear's porridge. But it was too hot, too." Angie sighed with the air of a martyr and said, "No, it was too cold." Scott frowned. "Oh. So then she tasted the Baby Bear's porridge, and it was just right, so she ate it all up." He looked down to see if Angie wanted to add anything, but she had her eyes closed again. "Then she . . . " wanted to lay down? Watch TV? "had to sit. So she sat in the Papa Bear's chair, but it was too hard." "She was supposed to do that when she ate the porridge," Angie said, shaking her head as if Scott was a lost cause. Scott turned and gave her an irritable look. "Am I telling this story or not?" Angie rolled her eyes and settled back again. "So then she tried the Mama Bear's seat, but it was too soft. So she sat in Baby Bear's chair, and it was just right. But as she sat down, it broke into a great many pieces. Upset about this, she went upstairs to sleep." That was sounding quite nice about now. "First, she lay in the Papa Bear's bed. It was too hard. Mama Bear's bed was next, and it was too soft. But Baby Bear's bed was just right, and she fell asleep." He glanced over, saw that Angie wasn't moving and quickly hurried on. "The bears came home and saw her sleeping there, and they chased her out of the house." At least, it had gone something like that. Angie stayed asleep. Scott took a deep breath and eased her down onto the couch, then stood up. "Goodnight, Angie," he said, heading back upstairs. On the second landing up sat Alex, looking rather forlorn. "I thought you left me, then I heard you down here," Alex said softly, looking up at his brother through blond hair. "Sorry. You were sleeping." Alex nodded and started to follow his brother up the stairs. "How well do you remember Mom?" he asked as they headed up the steps. Scott slanted his brother a curious look, noting the down cast blue eyes and body shape much the same as his own, with perhaps larger eyes and a lower forehead. "Pretty well." They made it to the room they shared with two other boys silently, then Alex climbed up into the top bunk with his big brother. "Do you remember her?" Scott asked, brushing the hair out of his little brother's face. "Sometimes," Alex said, frowning. "I can remember her smiling. And playing with Daddy." He stopped and looked up at Scott, a worried expression all over his face. "But I don't remember as much as I used to." Scott hesitated, then nodded and picked at his blanket. Forgetting his parents was what scared him most. There were kids here who couldn't remember theirs. He was afraid of losing that memory of loving, caring people who looked out for him no matter what. "I have a picture," he finally said, turning and taking a snapshot off the shelf by his bed. He held onto it for a moment, then smiled and handed it to his little brother. "It stays right here, and you can look at it any time you want." Alex took the photo with great care, touching the image of two younger boys and their parents. "Do you miss them very much?" Alex asked. "Yeah," Scott answered, smiling slightly. "But then I look at you, and you act like Mom, so I can't miss them too much." Alex grinned and started to laugh quietly, and Scott gave him a questioning look. "Mama Bear, Papa Bear, Baby Bear and Brother Bear," Alex said, pointing to each person in the photograph in turn. Scott grinned. "Yeah. Only you're Baby Bear, and I'm Brother Bear!" Alex laughed again and handed the picture back, then started to climb down off the bed. "Scott?" he whispered half way down. "What?" Scott whispered back, bending closer. "What did Brother and Baby Bear do when Mama and Papa left?" Scott was silent for a long time. Finally he leaned closer still and said, "They stuck together." "How did they get food?" Alex whispered. Scott was quiet a minute more. "Well," he said slowly, "one would go hunt and the other would guard the house from more people like Goldilocks. But they always came back to each other." Alex thought about that for a moment, then smiled. "I love you, Brother Bear." Scott reached down and ruffled the straight, blond hair. "Love you too, Baby Bear." Alex descended the rest of the way and climbed back into bed. As soon as his head hit the pillow he was fast asleep. Scott sat for a second more, looking at the photograph. Finally he kissed it gently, and whispered "Love you too, Mama and Papa Bear," then put it away and fell asleep. ****************** Note: remember when I said in the notes that continuity before Onslaught would be the same? I decided there were enough holes that I could fill some in. As of . . . now Scott and Alex were together in the orphange, for at least a week. :) Thanks to Duncan, for helping.
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Missing Mama Bear
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