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Amy Andrews and her mother, Dr. Felicity Andrews, arrived at the Xavier Institute looking more like they were there to serve Charles papers than to tour the school. They wore suits tailored more precisely than an Italian politician's, and their hair was pulled back so tightly that, by the looks of them, they may have been standing in a wind tunnel. Charles, in his open-collared blue button down, felt like he was sitting there in his bathing suit by comparison. The best he could do was sit up a little straighter in his chair and thank his lucky stars he hadn't worn sneakers.
“Dr. Xavier, it is an honor to meet you,” said Amy's mother, and she gave Charles a handshake so vigorous it made him wish he’d done a few extra chin-ups that morning. “This is my daughter, Amy.”
Amy’s handshake was equally severe. “It’s an honor, sir,” she said, to which he only smiled dumbly, feeling more than a little lost.
“I’m sorry,” he turned back to Dr. Andrews, “It's very nice to meet you both, but I think there’s been some miscommunication. This is a school for mutants.”
“We are aware of that.”
Feeling a bit silly, he whispered, “Amy is not a mutant.”
“Yes, we know that.”
Charles, again, was confused. “I’m sorry, I thought you were here because Amy was interested in enrolling as a student.”
“Dr. Xavier, this is, without question, the most esteemed preparatory school in the region, if not the entire country. The students who graduate from here go on to be world leaders. They win Nobel Prizes. Now, Amy may not have any extra-human abilities, but she is as smart as they come and I aim to get her the best education money can buy.” Charles didn't need telepathy to pick up the subtext: Dr. Andrews was more than willing to buy Amy's way into the school, and Charles almost felt his wallet do a little dance at the thought of it. Just to underline her point, she added, “It really is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Xavier. Do you know that my grandmother and your grandfather once dated? I suppose they must have run in the same circles.”
“Please, call me Charles,” he told her, and gave her as warm a smile as he could muster under the circumstances. “If you're talking about my grandfather Xavier, I believe he had a reputation for being a bit of a cad, so your grandmother may have dodged a bullet there.”
Dr. Andrews and Amy smiled, looking a little smug. Message received.
Charles hesitated. A human student? When had they become so respectable? When had Erik stopped threatening to make Graymalkin Lane the most feared address in the hemisphere? He supposed it was a mark of their progress, or perhaps a sign that they were going soft.
Charles had never considered enrolling a human, and he and Erik had an unwritten rule that, with very, very few exceptions, the school grounds were limited to mutants-only. Not that that had been a big deal: until recently, there weren’t too many humans who’d wanted to visit anyway.
But the rule was unwritten, and Charles had no explicit reason to deny Amy admission. Accepting Amy into the school would be unprecedented, but it didn't have to be earth-shattering, and if they wanted to start operating on a balanced budget, this could be a good start. He would have to talk it over with Erik and the rest of the faculty, but Charles thought it could work.
Charles cleared his throat. “Amy, I have no doubt that you are as brilliant a student as your mother says you are, but this is not a typical school, and we have some unique issues to consider when it comes to our student body. I'm not ruling out the possibility, but I will have to discuss it with the rest of the faculty.”
“We understand,” said Dr. Andrews.
He drummed his fingers on his armrests and chewed his bottom lip. “You came all this way. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead with the tour.”
*
Charles' tours were usually low-key affairs. Half the time, the students were coming from abusive homes or worse, and more than anything just needed to be reassured that they would be safe and cared for, and reminded that they are not alone. Hence the reason why he always took off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves: he was told it made him seem less intimidating.
They would usually start with a walk across the grounds, then the dormitories, then through the school's main facilities, then the classrooms, then wind up in Charles's office to talk. Charles saw no reason to change this routine just because his guests were human, so he led them out the way they came in and out to the garden.
“Your roses are lovely,” Dr. Andrews told him. “And that statue is... remarkable.”
Charles followed her gaze. “Oh, that's not a statue. That's one of our residents, Colossus.”
Piotr released his larger, metallic form and returned to his (also remarkably large and still) natural form. He nodded hello to their guests.
Charles looked back to Amy and her mother and found them, well, stunned would be a polite way to put it. If the mere sight of Colossus, who had barely done more than blink in their direction, set their teeth on edge, then Amy would not survive a single day as a student.
So much for their low-key tour, Charles thought. If she wanted to study here, then she should know exactly what she was in for.
*
“I'd like you to meet Dr. Hank McCoy, sometimes known as Beast. He teaches science and mathematics, but he spends most of his time in our labs, and has made remarkable breakthroughs in the study of genetics and hormones. I believe his was the Nobel Prize you referred to earlier, although technically he was never a student here.” Hank tried to appear modest: not an easy task for him. “He is also our on-site doctor,” Charles continued. “Of course mutants sometimes have rather unique medical requirements, so it's nice to have someone here who understands that. There is a human hospital nearby, but Hank is always the first stop.”
Amy swallowed hard: she was imagining having a sore throat examined by a giant, furry, blue beast. But Charles was impressed when she decided it was silly to feel frightened by Hank and shook his hand.
Good, Charles thought. Very good.
Charles decided he might push his luck a little and called out to Nightcrawler, who appeared instantly at his side. Amy and her mother nearly leaped out of their shoes in surprise.
“I would also like you to meet Kurt Wagner, or Nightcrawler. He’s a teleporter, as you can see. He teaches art and music. He also leads a Bible study group, which is completely optional, obviously.”
Dr. Andrews gulped. “Obviously.”
Amy smiled and shook his hand. “Delighted to meet you,” she said.
Kurt was impressed with her manners and tipped his head. “Likewise.”
Amy was doing very well. If Charles wanted to test her resolve, he’d have to try a bit harder.
*
“Here we have the dormitory wing of the school. We do our best to make this place feel like home, and we must do a pretty good job, considering how many of our students remain here long after graduation. But then, may of them feel that they cannot live amongst humans and stay here out of necessity.”
“And if Amy were to live among them, would she be in any danger?” Dr. Andrews asked, finally voicing some reservations about the whole idea.
Before Charles could answer and test her doubts, Amy spoke up.
“If they have issues living with humans, then I will adapt to them,” she announced, and leveled Charles with a firm look: she knew what he was up to and she was challenging him. You think you’re going to talk me out of this. You think you’re going to scare my mother into changing her mind. You won’t.
Challenge accepted.
*
“This is the bunker. It’s where our more dangerous students come to practice with their mutations. We have people here who can throw fireballs, shoot lasers, you name it. And many of them cannot control their powers yet, so we let them loose down here, where the rest of the school is in no danger.”
“Are those dress forms?”
“Yes, but down here we call them ‘targets.’ This part of the school also doubles as a bomb shelter in case we are attacked. We've had our share of threats, but so far we’ve only had to move everyone down here twice. And the building is still standing!”
*
They continued on to the north wing.
“These are our classrooms,” Charles announced as they moved down the hallway. “The curriculum is pretty much what you would expect: literature, mathematics, history, chemistry, foreign languages, hand-to-hand combat, military tactics, weaponry, phys ed, art, music, civics...”
Amy crossed her arms over her chest and stuck her nose in the air. “I’m sure it’s nothing I can’t handle.” Bring it on.
If this tour wasn’t challenging her enough, Charles could give her a challenge. If she wanted to be shocked, Charles could shock her. If she wanted more, Charles could give her more.
They stepped into one of the rooms and found Erik and Marie standing in front of a blackboard, scribbling in German. They turned around when they heard Charles speak.
“I would like to introduce you to our headmaster. This is my husband, Erik Lehnsherr.” At “husband,” Erik quirked his eyebrow at Charles: that was a term neither of them used, and certainly not with strangers. “You may recognize him from the evening news. He’s been arrested a fair number of times, but--”
“Thank you, Charles,” Erik interrupted him, “That’s very flattering.” What in God’s name are you up to now?
Charles probed his guests’ minds for reactions but only found simple delight at having the decades-old rumor confirmed.
Amy took Erik’s hand and shook it with the same earnest ferocity as she did Charles’. “Professor Lehnsherr, it is an honor to meet you.”
Her mother took his hand next. “It is truly a thrill,” she told him.
“That’s kind of you to say,” said Erik, still suspicious at Charles’ motivations.
Charles then turned their attentions to Marie. “And here we have one of our newest students, Rogue. How do you like it here so far?”
Marie looked startled to be addressed so directly, and she looked for reassurance from Erik before answering, “Oh. Ah, I think it’s going well.”
Amy and her mother reached out to shake Marie’s hand, but Charles stopped them. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Rogue will kill you with one touch. You might want to take a step back.”
Marie wilted, and Erik turned furious. “That’s quite enough, Charles!” That was cruel! What are you thinking?
I’ll explain later, he sent Erik, who was hovering protectively over Marie.
Something sour started to rise up the back of Charles’ throat, nagging at him that he might have made a mistake. He swallowed it down. He hated that feeling.
As they left the classroom, Amy called behind her, “Nice meeting you, Rogue!”
Marie smiled softly, but kept her eyes on her shoes.
*
Charles didn’t know what to think of Amy. She was certainly bright, brighter than most, and as determined a child as he’d ever met. He had no doubt that she would succeed at any school she chose, but as to why she chose his, well, he worried about her motivations. He gathered that she mostly liked the challenge and wanted to prove that she could do it: that she could be the first human at the esteemed Xavier Institute. She imagined herself on the cover of Newsweek next to the headline HUMAN VALEDICTORIAN AT XAVIER.
She’d already proven to Charles that she could do it. The fact that she’d dared Charles to dissuade her in the first place was rather impressive: there were adults he’d known for years who wouldn’t stand up to him like that. And she’d risen to the challenge. Try as he might, he could not scare her off. If anything, by the time Charles showed Amy and her mother the door, Amy seemed more convinced than ever that the Xavier Institute was the place for her.
The only thing stopping Amy from enrolling as a student was an admission letter, and Charles found that he was inclined to give her one. Even without the little cash register in his mind chiming every time he thought about it, he knew that a strong-minded young woman like Amy would go on to do great things in her life, and he wouldn’t mind having his name on her resume. All that was left was the approval of the rest of the faculty. Most importantly, the approval of the headmaster.
*
Charles didn’t see Erik again until late that night, when he found him standing shirtless in front of their bathroom mirror, flossing.
“Would you care to tell me what that was all about this afternoon?” Erik asked him, still picking at his teeth. His tone was sharp, and the muscles in his shoulders were tensed. He refused to even look at Charles.
“That young woman was a human.”
“I thought she was a prospective student.”
“She was.”
Erik finally turned to Charles and frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I didn’t know she was a human when I agreed to meet with her.”
“So you gave her a tour anyway?” Erik threw away the floss and pulled out the mouthwash. “Why didn’t you just tell her, ‘Sorry, we don’t accept humans?’ Or better yet, make them think they’d only stopped by to use the bathroom and send them on their way?”
Charles sighed. “She is a very bright young woman, Erik, and her family is quite influential.”
Erik gargled, then spit like he meant it. “By influential you mean wealthy, don’t you?”
“I know you think that the Xavier fortune is bottomless, but it’s not. I'm going to call a faculty meeting tomorrow to discuss letting Amy enroll, but first I wanted to give her an idea of what she could expect. I thought the tour would be a good litmus test for whether or not she would fit in here.”
“So you thought you'd test her resolve and see if the big scary mutants would frighten her off.” He knew Charles well, and his ire was building.
“Something like that.”
“I see,” he sneered. “So that’s why you introduced me as the criminal you’ve been fucking for 24 years and Marie as a soul-sucking killer?”
Charles rolled his eyes. “Oh, don't twist my words.”
Erik shook his head and marched out of the bathroom.
“I showed her the school, Erik.” Charles began to raise his voice. “I showed her the bunkers and I introduced her to Hank and Kurt and I showed her who we really are and what we really do. I wanted to see if she could hack it and she can. I really think she can.”
“Oh, ‘she can hack it,’ can she? Who cares!” Erik shouted. “This school is for mutants only! We don’t enroll humans!”
“Why not? Why shouldn’t we? The Massachusetts Academy accepts humans.”
“The Massachusetts Academy is a school first and a mutant home second. The Xavier Institute is first and foremost a training ground for mutants. That is the reason we founded this place. That is why I’m here. I am not interested in teaching human girls how to order airplane tickets in French. I’m not here because I want to be Mr. Chips.”
Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. He was getting awfully tired of hearing the Mr. Chips speech. “We have been slowly reaching out to the human population for years now. It was only a matter of time before human students became interested in studying here. We should be building bridges with the world outside our gates.”
“And you thought that trying to scare this girl off was the way to do that? You thought you’d take this young human, who clearly wants to be an ally, and prove all of her worst fears true? You thought the best thing to do was to show her that we’re such dangerous, disgusting, sexually deviant, criminal killers that she might change her mind about coming here after all? They left, what, about six hours ago? How many friends and family members do you think they've already called to tell the story of the campus tour from hell? How’s that for building bridges?”
There it was, that queasy feeling again, that tartness at the back of his throat that signaled that he might have made a mistake. He tried to swallow it down again, but this time it didn’t move so easily.
Erik saw his doubt and pushed it further. “Not only that, but you did it by embarrassing me. And humiliating Marie, a student who actually needs us. The kind of student we started this school to help. Christ, Charles, she’s been doing so well, and you just go and torch all her progress because you feel like playing mind games with some 14 year old human girl.”
Charles finally broke at that. God damn it. He had screwed up. “Fine,” he huffed, “Fine. I shouldn’t have tried to scare this girl off. That was poor tactics. But I still think we should consider enrolling her.”
“Absolutely not,” Erik growled. “Not while I’m living here. Not while I’m living, period.”
“Her mother-”
“Could be the queen of fucking England for all I care,” Erik snapped. “Over my dead body. It’s not up for discussion.” Charles crossed his arms over his chest and, admittedly, pouted a little, but did not argue. “And you owe Marie an apology. A big fucking apology. What you did today was unforgiveable.”
“I know it was. That’s why I already removed it from her memory.”
Erik’s sudden spike in anger brought him to his full height like an animal under threat. “You did what?” he hissed.
“I erased it. Like you said, I undid months of progress, so I erased it.”
Erik looked as though he might start shouting, but he did worse: he put his clothes back on.
“Where are you going?” Charles asked.
“God forbid you might have to apologize to someone,” Erik muttered as he strapped on an old pair of sneakers. “I’m going for a walk. Don’t wait up.”
*
Charles climbed into bed and followed Erik mentally as he walked the grounds. He didn’t want to pry; Erik needed some space, and he deserved some privacy. Charles followed him only as closely as he’d follow a dot on a map, moving from one room to the next, down the hallway, towards the back door.
He felt Erik step out of the house and into the cool night. He moved around the perimeter of the grounds, more swiftly than his usual walking pace, and eventually ended up in the garage. Charles’ heart sank at the idea that Erik might get on his motorcycle and take off for the night, but when he ended up standing behind the garage for half an hour, Charles realized he’d only gone out there to fetch the pack of cigarettes that was hidden in his saddlebag.
Charles didn’t dare peek at what Erik might be thinking; his own thoughts were awful enough.
*
Erik slithered into bed about an hour and a half later.
“I was worried you might sleep on the couch,” Charles said.
Erik huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders. “I was going to.”
“What changed your mind?”
“I’m tired,” he snapped. “And I have a lot to do tomorrow. I don’t see why I should have to sacrifice sleeping in my own bed just because I share it with a selfish jackass.”
Charles sighed, rolled back to his own side of the bed, and went to sleep.
*
Charles awoke the next morning to an empty bed and a new school policy:
There will be no human visitors without written permission from the headmaster. Any and all human guests must report immediately to the office of the headmaster upon arrival. In the headmaster’s absence, human guests will require written permission from no less than three senior staff members. Failure to observe this rule will result in the human’s ejection from Xavier Institute property, and immediate disciplinary action for the resident(s) who invited said human. Humans are barred from staying at the school overnight under any circumstances. No exceptions.
“Is this about when my sister came to visit last month?” Kitty Pryde asked Charles when she popped in on his office hour, “Because I know you were upset that she slept in Bobby’s room, but she swears nothing happened between them.”
Charles tried not to let Kitty see how miserable he was feeling, but she must have noticed that he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering, “No, Kitty, I promise you this has nothing to do with your sister, although, no, she will not be allowed to spend the night again.”
“That’s so not fair! Can’t you do anything about it? I swear she won’t cause any trouble again. We’ll even go into town and buy condoms if it makes you feel better.”
“No, Kitty, I… what? No. No, your sister is not allowed on school property without the permission of Professor Lehnsherr, and no, she will not be allowed to stay overnight, and no, she is not allowed in Bobby’s room again, and no, there’s nothing I can do about it.” He slumped over his desk. “This is not my rule. This is Professor Lehnsherr’s rule. If you have any questions about it, you need to speak to him.”
“But this is your school. Can’t you change the rule?” she pouted, and he sighed.
“No, Kitty, this school is as much his as it is mine, and he makes the rules. I can’t just change them because I feel like it.”
When Kitty left, Charles wondered whose pout was more powerful: his or hers. His certainly wasn’t getting him anywhere lately. Erik still wouldn’t speak to him, and that vile taste of wrongdoing still clung to the back of his throat.
He’d have to make some amends. He hated making amends.
*
The next day (after another angry, sexless night), Charles enlisted his assistant Penny and the two of them drove out to Connecticut to visit the home of Amy Andrews, the could-have-been, almost-first human student of the Xavier Institute.
The drive was almost three hours in traffic, and as soon as they pulled up to the house, Charles wished he’d only just called.
Stairs. Stairs everywhere. He couldn’t even go up and ring the doorbell. He’d gotten so used to having Erik at his side, having conveniently chosen a partner who could lift his metal chair without a finger, that he rarely took such things as a stranger’s front stoop into consideration.
“God damnit,” he muttered. “What should we do?”
“I’ll go knock on the door and I’ll invite them out,” Penny suggested.
“Right. Okay. Invite them to lunch. Tell them it’s their choice and my treat.”
“Fine,” she agreed, and ran up to the front door.
Charles barely resisted the urge to sink down in his seat so they wouldn’t see him. Sitting there in their parked car, watching – he felt like a cop on a stakeout.
Penny returned to the car five minutes later. “Trattoria Gianmarco in one hour.”
*
Meeting the Andrews women at a restaurant turned out to not be one of Charles’ better ideas.
To begin with, the restaurant was terrible. The food stunk. Penny was appalled and barely touched what she thought was a pathetic excuse for veal piccata. Penny was half black and half Italian, raised primarily by her Italian grandmother, and she spent most of the meal imagining what her Nonna Roberta would say.
Besides that, the service was slow, and a leisurely lunch was a long time to spend with people you were only there to reject. There were more awkward silences than Charles was prepared to fill, and he ended up entertaining himself by eavesdropping on Penny’s imaginings at what her Nonna Roberta would say about the veal piccata.
Eventually, though, Charles just had to quit stalling and come right out with it.
“Amy, I want you to know that this was a very difficult decision, but we have decided to make it official that the Xavier Institute is open to mutants only. I came here to apologize for leading you on. I promise you from the bottom of my heart that, during our tour, I honestly thought we may be able to admit you. In fact, I was starting to hope that we could admit you. However, the Xavier Institute is first and foremost a safe haven and training ground for mutants. We are only a school because we bring in so many minors who are legally required to get an education. The truth is, we could stop giving out diplomas tomorrow and the Xavier Institute would still stand. In the end, we are not really a school. You, Amy, you need a school.
“Which is why,” Charles reached down then and pulled an envelope out of his briefcase, “I have prepared a package for you containing letters of recommendation, from me personally, made out to every boarding school and prep school on the eastern seaboard. I have indicated my top five choices, but of course you and your mother may come up with an entirely different top five of your own, and that’s fine. But what I want you to do is, as soon as you’ve selected your top five, you call my office and you let Penny know which schools you would most like to attend, and I will call them personally to tell them what a smart, determined, indomitable person you are, and that they would be fools to pass you over. I know you will do well in whatever you choose to do, and I hope that I can do my part in helping you succeed.”
And if Charles left them with the idea that they should call everyone they know and tell them how great he is, well, there was no harm in that.
*
They arrived back home in the late afternoon, and Charles went immediately to his next task: he went to talk to Marie.
He found her sitting alone on the patio, doing her math homework, and enjoying the unseasonably warm weather.
“Nice day,” he called out as he approached.
She looked around to see if he might be talking to someone else before nodding her agreement.
Charles should have taken a few minutes to figure out what to say. It’s not easy to apologize for something that no longer exists. He cleared his throat and decided to start where they left off. “So, Marie. How do you like it here so far?” She looked puzzled. “I mean, you’re still one of our newest students, and I feel like I haven’t had much opportunity to talk with you or see how you’re doing.”
“Oh. Ah, I think it’s going well.”
“Professor Lehnsherr says you’re doing great in his classes. I’m glad that you and he have been getting along.”
“He’s been very nice to me.”
“Well, don’t tell that to anyone. He doesn’t like it when people start thinking he’s nice.”
At that, Marie almost laughed. Almost.
“I’m glad that he’s been nice to you,” Charles continued. “And if anyone has been, well, less than nice to you, then you should tell me. Or tell him, if you feel more comfortable telling him.”
Marie nodded. “I will.”
“Even faculty members. If anyone makes you feel… If anyone says something to you that makes you upset, you don’t deserve that. This building is supposed to be a safe space for people like us, and if anyone jeopardizes that for you, then they don’t deserve to be here. No matter who it is. Even if it’s me.”
Marie was starting to look a little concerned, and Charles decided he’d said enough.
“Right,” he said, and drummed his fingers on his chair’s armrest. “Well, I’ll let you get back to your homework.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
“No, thank you,” he said. “And I’m glad you’re here.”
*
By the time Charles caught up with all the work he missed during his trip to Connecticut, it was nearly bedtime, and once again Charles didn’t see Erik until he retired for the night.
Erik was, again, standing in front of the bathroom mirror. He was yanking at his silvery hair, pushing it this way and that, wondering when he’d have time to go into town and get it cut.
“I happen to like when it gets a little long,” Charles surprised him, and sent him a few key memories of pulling Erik’s hair.
Erik considered making a joke about having any hair at all, or simply calling Charles a dirty old hippie for liking his hair long, but ended up not saying anything. He just shut off the bathroom light and walked out.
Still angry then, but getting softer.
“Have you changed your mind yet about that human girl? Or do you still think you’re going to talk me into it?” He brushed past Charles and sat at the edge of their bed to untie his shoes.
“No, I’ve changed my mind. You were right.”
Erik sat up in surprise. “I was right? Is it a leap year?”
“I deserve that.” He pulled his wheelchair up to the bed and settled himself in the space between Erik’s legs. “I told Amy that we are a mutant refuge first and a school second, and that I would be happy to recommend her to another school, but she would not be coming here. No human students.”
“Really.” Erik tried to act suspicious, but was also enjoying the way Charles was stroking his thigh.
“Really. And I’m sorry for the way I behaved. I’m sorry for what I did to Marie, and I’m sorry for calling you my prisoner husband.”
That coaxed a laugh out of Erik. He shifted forward to touch Charles’ cheek.
“All right, fine, you're forgiven. Criminals like me believe in second chances,” he teased and took Charles’ mouth in his. "You know, deep down I think you imagine yourself as some sort of long-suffering mob wife," he smirked, still nipping at Charles' bottom lip.
“I do not,” Charles said when they parted, “And if you call me your wife again I won’t touch your dick for a month.” Not much of a protest, considering the way Charles was already unbuckling Erik’s pants.
“I just think that you related a bit too much to Diane Keaton’s character in The Godfather.”
Charles pinched him for that, and earned a wicked smile.
“So I’ve bowed to your wishes and I’ve apologized, but you need to back off on your new rule. The one about human visitors.”
Erik’s naughty grin drooped and he pulled his hands back from where they were wrapped around Charles’ neck.
“Charles, we can’t have human strangers wandering around the grounds.”
“People do visit from time to time.”
“That’s fine, as long as they’re registered with me and they’re not staying more than a couple of hours. Is this about Kitty’s sister? Because I’m not inviting that chaos again.”
“No, this is about Luna. You’ve successfully blacklisted your own granddaughter. I suppose you forgot that you told Pietro we could take her next weekend. Would you like to call him and tell him that Luna’s been barred from the school? Because I’m not going to.”
Erik sighed and scrubbed at his face. “Fuck, I forgot about Luna. Fine. I’ll drop the rule about no overnight stays.”
“Good,” Charles said as he unbuttoned his shirt.
Erik reached out to help him undress, letting his hands wander a bit along the way.
“But Kitty’s sister still isn’t allowed to sleep over.”
“Fine,” Charles said, and moved toward the bed.