Coming back from the land of the legally dead was complicated. Was this what like filing taxes was like? So. Many. Things. So. Many. Forms. So. Many. Details.

His parents hadn't done much. Kind of what he'd expected. Apparently they'd buried what of his stuff they hadn't thrown out. Aiden wasn't exactly keen on going grave-robbing to get his own stuff back. Plus it would be super creepy.

Pluuuuus he'd have to go back to a town which he had proof didn't like him, and also he'd probably also accidentally disturb Conri's grave somehow and that's where his brother actually physically was, even if his own grave was empty except for his stuff and -

there was a grave with his name on it how was he supposed to deal with that other than by not thinking about it

He had something else to think about! Something other than paperwork! And not being able to sleep, and having to literally rebuild his normal life.

He had been avoiding thinking about this, but it, uh, it had to be done just like the paperwork.

Aiden forced himself to breathe a few times, fiddled with the neck of the mansion-supplied shirt (at least it had long sleeves without being too warm. One less thing to think about. Two? Whatever), and stepped up to the doorway to knock.

"Sam?"

Dreams and nightmares intertwined once again causing the ice-mancer to sleep uneasy. He shifted causing more paperwork to fall from his desk and with a mumble he turned his head as if the new resident folders was an uncomfortable pillow. His hand still on his empty glass and the other on the half empty bottle he awoke when he heard a knock on the door. He heard his name as well but wasn’t sure who had said it.

The wake up call was welcomed. Sam shifted uneasy in his chair and filled his glass with some ice cubes while whipping the sleep from his eye. Setting the bottle down next to his glass he yawned and scratched his nine o’clock shadowed chin and yelled, ”Open!” wondering who he had to thank for waking him up from memories of his ‘not-real life’. Sam took a sip of his drink and looked to the door still feeling the sleep he was influenced by moments before.

Aiden steeled himself and pushed the door open at Sam's shout. No turning back and crawling back into some semi-familiar hole. Not anymore. It took another swallow as he stepped inside, but actually seeing Sam was a little bit of a shock.

It wasn't like he'd been gone for a decade, was it?

So what was going on for Sam to be quite so unshaven and surrounded by alcohol this early? Sure, it was Sam: that there was alcohol at hand was a given. But something still seemed a bit off.

But that wasn't why he was here. He trusted Cafas, at least, to keep anyone around him from doing anything too incredibly stupid. Unless over-training was included? But anyway. His brain was sort of skipping over things like a cd player that wasn't held perfectly steady while running. What was he even here for-

Right, right. He cleared his throat a little. Very little; it was all for the purpose of actually clearing his throat and not at all to make noise. "So, I, uh, guess you've heard by now. That, well. I'm not dead?"

That was... an incredibly awkward way to start a conversation with his freaking leader. The first one after returning.

From being assumed dead by all parties.

Could he still crawl back out the door and find some dark hole in which to leave himself?

Sam looked up then looked back at his glass and pulled a second glass from his desk. Aiden was twenty but Sam knew what it was like coming back from the dead. The kid didn’t need to say anything else and Sam knew where this conversation was going. ”I can see. The club has jackets.” he poured some whiskey in the glass and slid it to Aiden. ”You tell anyone I offered this to you you’ll go right back to being dead.” Sam said half joking.

”I don’t really don’t listen to rumors anymore, used to love listening to them, always some truth behind them but lately… they just irritate me. Though I got to say I am glad you aren’t dead. You were a pain but you were never boring.” Sam said as he gestured to his chair and the glass. If he didn’t take the glass Sam would drink for both of them.

”You want to talk about it?” Sam asked knowing that Aiden was a little more sensitive than Sam was so it was in the realm of possibilities that he wanted to talk about what happened.

Club.

Unless the X-Men counted, this was probably seriously the first club he had ever been a member of. And it came with an article of clothing he generally couldn't wear, and never needed to wear, at least in terms of temperature.

Didn't really improve his opinion of clubs.

And then Aiden choked a little bit because his boss-leader-supervisor-guild master?-whatever this wasn't the time to flail about words was trying to give him alcohol.

In the morning, ish.

While he was still underaged, regardless of his interest in things like getting drunk.

But it was also an offering from Sam, leader of the X-Men and all, so Aiden did entertain a (very) brief moment of consideration before he shook his head and tucked his hands into his pockets. "No thanks. Doesn't alcohol increase body temperature anyway?" Because that would make it even less appropriate.

And then Sam went and called him a pain. A pain. He'd rather be boring. Know what? Fine. Aiden swiped the glass and attempted to swallow some. Problem one: he attempted to drink way more than anyone, especially someone who had never had whiskey before, should attempt to swallow at once.

Problem two: Sam followed it up by asking if he wanted to talk. About the whole dying-not dying thing.

Both problems had the same overall result: a lot of half-choking and hacking, and a teensy bit panicked attempt to get the glass back onto the desk before he died for real.

”Depends how much you drink.” Sam said with a shrug and ignored the fact that he denied the drink. Sam would drink for both of them. He’d have no problem with that up until the second glass went up and then was scarfed. ”Look I like getting drunk as much as the next guy but when you die and come back you enjoy the whiskey. You enjoy the little things.” Sam took a sip of his glass and tilted his head slightly.

”You aren’t the only on to have died you know. I went through it before. Might have died differently but.” Sam shrugged. ”Dead is dead, no?” he asked taking another sip. ”You’re back now, alive tell me what happened. If you want I can swap a story for a story.”

Sam was saying something about enjoying.

Aiden was preoccupied with the fire attempting to liquefy his tongue and throat. It wasn't the same kind of heat as, say, the firebird that had attempted to live in his window once upon a time, but it was still very much NOT ENJOYABLE.

The coughing eventually tapered off, but it took longer for Aiden to get his breath back. And then for the redness in his face to go away.

At the end of all that, he just felt dizzy and there were still too many possible things to pin it on. He should probably sit down. Especially if Sam expected there to be lots of talking. On the other hand, sitting down would open that talking door wider.

He still needed to sit down. So he did. "I seriously don't know what happened. We were out on the glacier in two or three different groups. I think something happened in one of the groups." Sitting down hadn't really helped the dizziness, but time seemed to be helping. "And then there was a whole lot of nothing." He shuddered through the reminder. It helped hide the remembered pain too, pain he could never place but undeniably felt.

”You sip it. Acquired taste, you’ll enjoy it one day and look at this bottle and be surprised I had such good taste.” Sam said trying not to laugh at iden for coughing up a storm. He was surprised the snow dancer didn’t try puking considering his initial reaction. Sam poured a little more in both glasses and waved a hand forming some ice in Aiden’s.

”We?” Sam asked sipping his drink glad he had a distraction from the his paperwork and the **** show that was his life. ”Who were you with and when?” Sam asked. The devil was in the details and right now Aiden wasn’t giving him much.

”Sound mutant and a sniper. Pinned me down. One limb after another, ice constructs couldn’t form. I still hear the ringing from time to time.” he pointed to his ear. It was kinda peaceful at the end for me. I felt warm, like an embrace then.”[/color] Sam snapped his fingers, ”Woke up an hour later almost killed the healer and Shin.”

Good taste, huh?

How about no. Aiden let his expression sour a little bit, and then just reached into the glass to take out some of the ice Sam had so thoughtfully made. That was one aspect to cold mutations he would rather have over some of his details, sometimes. If he had to be heat-sensitive, the least he could do would be to make the heat go away at will.

The ice tasted a bit like the whiskey, and Aiden made a face at it, but it was definitely less horrible and overwhelming - and burning - in smaller doses.

"West coast branch. Training mission in Alaska." He looked at Sam, faintly and almost warily suspicious. "I'm pretty sure you would have at least seen a report about it, if you didn't actually sign off on it." Was Sam not doing his work, or had it just slipped his mind? Or was he just trying to get Aiden to tell the whole story?

Well, he wasn't going to get it in one go if he also felt like trading. Aiden hadn't really heard much of Sam's stories, though, and knowing that the leader of the X-Men had nearly died multiple times wasn't quite the same as hearing the details from the man himself. "Sounds a lot more pleasant," he muttered, and then swallowed the chunk of ice; it hadn't really melted at all, but whatever.

"Have anything more along the lines of just fine, nothing going on, then, oh, being on the inside of a TV after someone unplugs the cable connection?" Was that a little bit sarcastic? Would Sam notice or care that a trainee was maybe being almost not intentionally sarcastic towards him?

Was it even sarcasm? The description was seriously the one that felt closest after all this time.

Sam shrugged, ”I’m not in charge, just one of the team leaders. I might have more seniority but…” Sam sipped his glass, ”A lot happens over there I don’t know about.” Sam shifted in his chair as he readied himself for the details of the story the way Aiden was leaving him hanging this better be better than his stories.

”You hear a lot of things and see more when you die. At least from y experience.” Sam said waving his hand, ”Wife and kids crying out my name. Ghost, Mirror, Shin. My mother…” Sam let the details slide and listened further.

Sam raised an eyebrow. ”You’re alive though right?” Sam asked him. That was a detail that Aiden seemed to be in need of reminding of. He was alive and he wasn’t dead, not now at least he kept up the sarcasm and attitude Sam might throw him closer to the edge of death.

Also known as 'probably forgot, or maybe was too drunk at the time to remember.' It kind of all worked out the same, so whatever it was and whether or not it mattered was something he'd leave to other people. People who knew things from, like, kindergarten what he'd probably need a PhD to guess at.

"I couldn't hear or see anything. It was more like there wasn't even a me." He swirled the untouched whiskey in his glass. Somehow, it helped, even if his voice fell a little bit. "No me, but I could still hurt. Not like getting hit. Words. It was as hard to find words for this, especially this, as it was to draw what it had felt like. A blank page, a blank page with tiny char holes from stray ash too small to see before the paper flashed red and then black.

"And I didn't get any flashes or voices when I nearly died the first time either, by the way. And it was... pretty clear... I would have died. Without my mutation."

Sip, huh? Well, the disgusting taste might at least distract him from thinking about how his brother had died, and everything else caught up in that. "But that's different anyway. It definitely wasn't the same thing."

...

NOPE still fire and disgusting. Aiden resolutely put the glass back on the desk and slid his chair away from it, shuddering and trying to get the taste out of his mouth.

”Again join the club. Our mutation adapts to keep us alive right?” Sam pointed to his eye, he didn’t explain this often but he didn’t find Aiden as a threat so he had no trouble explaining his sixth sense, ”Lost an eye and my mutation started giving me a sixth sense.” he shrugged and sipped his whiskey ignoring Aiden’s exaggerated response once more.

”You’re alive though right?” Sam asked him tempted to reach across the desk and poke him but refrained for one being too lazy at this moment and for two he didn’t feel like starting a fight. ”You’re mutation saved you and you’re alive.” Sam raised his eyebrow again, ”So what’s the problem.” the ice-mancer asked with a smirk. ”Sounds like you got a pretty good deal. So tell me what exactly happened.”

"Staying alive has its perks, but a little consistency would be nice too." Or even more information. Less nightmare fodder. "Why don't you just get Doc Prof to help with that anyway? Or do you just pretend you haven't to mess with people?" This was Sam. He did mess with people rather often.

And asked prying, unanswerable questions when he wasn't outright messing with people. Aiden sighed. "Problem? How about getting stranded in the middle of nowhere, or constantly reliving something you can't explain but everyone asks about? I could probably fill a book with the attempts without even just falling back on 'I don't know.'"

He leaned back in the chair and sort of distantly wondered at how much he was talking.

Sam started to laugh at Aiden, he didn’t mean to but the question he posed to Sam seemed like it was meant like a joke. The air in the hallway got colder as he felt for any eavesdroppers satisfied with the lack of them he cleared his throat. Sam pointed to his head, ”I was brainwashed, kidnapped some of the kids in the mansion and when I wasn’t witnessing my own body moving on my own I was in a dream world where I had everything I ever wanted. My kids and wife, who two of them don’t exist, haunt me but I shared multiple lifetimes with them. Every day I wake up and see myself in the mirror I hate that I’m a constant reminder that I had to throw them away to prevent someone from continuing to control my body.” Sam paused chugged the rest of his drink then added some more to the glass.

”Every night I wake up to their screams and them calling out to me. I haven’t had a decent sleep in months. All the kids in the mansion are afraid of me for fear of me kidnapping them and turning them into weapons, like I was when I was a kid.” he slammed the next glass then filled it up again starting to really feel the buzz, ”I was left for dead more times than I can count, I was tortured, shocked, stabbed, cut, burned, poisoned, broken hearted. Don’t pretend you’re the only one who has had a rough life. It’s insulting. What I’m trying to get out of this is, you’re alive and your stronger for it.” Sam sipped his glass and no longer yelling he continued, ”Every day after you died should be a blessing. Colors, food any experience after that should be amazing because all it would is your mutation not to save you and you wouldn’t be experiencing any of them.”

Sam took a breath, ”You wanted to be an X-Man, yeah? Welcome to the ****ing club. Don’t pretend that nothing we do isn’t dangerous. That’s why we train, so we stay alive. You got a second chance, not a lot of people get that. Don’t waste it.” Sam took another breath and he sighed, ”End of rant.” the air got warmer no longer affected by his mutation.

”I don’t want it healed yet. When it was taken my mutation adapted to it. I have a thermal sense now and I want to explore it more before I get the eye back. It was curse at first but now it is a blessing. I don’t want to squander the opportunity. That and it’s a constant reminder as to why I’m an X-man, it happened in Romania.” Sam said remembering Alexandra and her screams. Sam took another sip of his glass.

Was it less warm? Aiden glanced at Sam, but it wasn't like he changed colour when messing with temperature. Although that would be nice for the people who otherwise wouldn't notice. Like Aiden.

And then wow did Sam unload. This was over-dramatic drama novel level unload.

If it had been a book he was reading, Aiden still wouldn't have been sure how to react.

Also: this would be why Sam drank so much, and so often. Not that he agreed with it, but it certainly made sense. In an unpleasant way.

Quiet through Sam's outburst, Aiden didn't even get to enjoy the absence of heat before it returned and he actually noticed it had gone.

"I don't meant it's worse than what other people have gone through," Aiden eventually said, slowly but not weakly. "Or that it's special to anyone else. It's just what I'm dealing with, and I haven't figured out how to do that yet."