Chapter Text
“This is a really nice coffee shop, I guess” Amelia Voght starts, a halted attempt to cut through the awkwardness. She sits at a small, round table in the Grind Stone Café, in North Salem New York. Behind her, the cold November day drops a leaf on the window closed by her head. To her left, Dr. Charles Xavier raises an eyebrow hopefully as he sips his tea. To her right, Erik Lensherr looks deep in thought, a coffee too bitter for him sitting untouched as he navigates through everything Charles had just suggested. She doesn’t blame him, she has almost as much history with him as Erik does and still she finds herself reticent about the idea. Some parts have merit, and some have the beginnings of something good, but it’s not a fully panned out idea.
Upon meeting in Westchester, the trio had begun by catching up. Amelia, who had met Charles when she worked as a military nurse and he was a soldier, now worked as a head nurse at a hospital in California. When he heard that, Erik burst into laughter, asking “And how many of your colleagues have you converted to communism?” The answer, let out in a begrudging but proud mumble, was three. Charles told the tale of his time working at Harvard, his first major study since he had been put in a wheelchair. He complained of the more outwardly ableist professors, spent 20 minutes discussing his findings, and finished it off with a simple “it would have been better if you two were with me.” Erik, for his part, had been off honing his powers, becoming a true “master of magnetism” in his words. From anyone else, Amelia would have scoffed. It was a preposterous notion, to be master of a natural force, even one you have some power over. But from Erik, Amelia got it. He had been through so much, and now he had access to all this power. He wanted to be able to use it, and for it not to use him.
It had been years since she had broken up with Charles, and though Amelia had lost many friends from that time, he had remained vigilant in his quest to remain in contact with her. Even when she didn’t want to hear from him, he would leave little messages of support. No pressure, no invading her mind, never asking her for anything. So when he called her and Erik here, to a town in upstate New York, she came. Charles had told them of everything he had learned about the mutant gene, and how it all reiterated his theory that mutants were the next step in human evolution. Then, just as the waitress had left, after setting their drinks down, he had let loose his grand idea.
“I want to open a school. A school for mutants.”
“A what???” Erik had exclaimed, a bellowing sound from a man who had a penchant for projecting his voice. Most noise in the café suddenly ground to a halt, all conversations tapering off, any conversation remaining carried out in whispers. Immediately after, Charles looked as though he would like more than anything in the world to stick his face in a coffee grinder. Soon, though, his mortified face gave way to one of exasperation. He glanced towards Amelia first, then Erik, and closed his eyes.
Watching someone manipulate minds is a fascinating thing, and one Amelia relishes the opportunity to see, every time she gets a chance. For Charles, what his companions notice first is a slight ripple in the air just above his forehead. Barely noticeable, almost unchanging surroundings, until the whispers stopped. What once must have been hushed conversations about Amelia and her friends, now was silence. Charles, who she had once seen struggle to glean what the current thoughts of one enemy soldier had been, now looked totally at ease as he directed all the minds in the café around their presence, and Erik’s outburst.
“I think it’s a good idea” Charles continued, pausing to sip his tea before moving forward as though no disruption had occurred.
“If we can offer other mutants, particularly the young mutants who are coming of age and into their powers faster and faster, a place to learn how to control their powers, they will be able to survive the world so much better. And that’s not even the only function of the school.” He shifted in his seat, sitting up straighter. The conversation had shifted into a place he was prepared to operate from.
“I will agree that preparing young mutants for their lives as they go into the world is a noble goal, but I have no interest in molding them into society’s perfect little compliant metahumans. This world is cruel to anyone different, so why should we train anyone to bend to its will?” Erik stopped, seeming satisfied with his point.
“That’s actually where you come in. The two of you don’t necessarily share the same ideas for how we should operate in society as mutants as I do, and that’s precisely why I came to you. First of all, every student at the school I am proposing should get the chance to decide for themselves what to do with their life once they have a much fuller understanding of themselves, their powers, and the way the world around them works.”
“Second of all?” Erik challenged.
“Second of all, this setup will not be without some resorting to violence.” Charles said, a small smile taking root on his face as he finished. He knew this would intrigue Erik, who had always preferred to deal with problems with action. Erik, who had not expected that response at all, let a retort die on his lips.
“Explain, Charles? I wouldn’t think violence would ever be an option for you unless there was no other choice” Amelia contributed, though she was warming up to his idea with every second.
“I believe there will be times when we need a more active response to a situation, and I believe we need to prepare a mutant solution to problems concerning mutants. If a child is losing control of his powers, and it is becoming a danger to those around him, a team of mutants should be the ones to neutralize him without killing him. If an anti-mutant militia forms, a combat-trained force of mutants would be the perfect group to put a stop to them.”
“Who would make up this mutant team of yours? Your young students?” Erik asked. It was a good point, Amelia thought. Child soldiers were never a good idea. But upon hearing this, Charles shook his head gravely.
“No! In fact, it would be made up of those who are also teaching at the school. The students would learn combat, of course, to be able to defend themselves, but they would not be conscripted into any violence.”
At this point, Erik fell into silence. The gears were turning in his mind, as they were in Amelia’s as well. Charles kept a polite telepathic distance, as he always did, but he could guess what his two friends were thinking, at least he hoped he could.
“This is a really nice coffee shop, I guess” Amelia Voght starts, a halted attempt to cut through the awkwardness. Continuing, she ventures warmly “Is this where you plan to open the school?”
Laughing, Charles responds “it’s not and you know it. My private estate is far more spacious than I could ever use on my own, and I have 24 bedrooms in the place. That’s not even counting possible expansions that could be made if the first year is a success and we bring in more students.
Honestly, space is the least of our concerns.”
Erik, who had been quiet up to this point, looked up. He had gone over the pros and cons in his brain, and had seemingly come to a decision.
“It could work, but I would need to have input. On the students, the curriculum, the other teachers, and on the team.” Charles nodded at this, and Amelia could see he had been ready for this.
“If I made you leader of the field team, Amelia head of medical, and I was headmaster, would you be at peace with that? Obviously the idea needs to be ironed out, and I will accept ideas you provide. I wouldn’t have asked you along if I didn’t want your perspective, of course.”
He turned to Amelia, and as he opened his mouth to ask her the question, she stopped him. “I’m in, Charles, but I have to finish what I’ve started in California. I’ll see you in a few months, and we can talk about getting this started.”
She grabbed her travel mug of coffee, and turned to Erik. “I hope you say yes too.” With that, as though they had never been there, Amelia and her coffee cup transformed to mist, and blew away.
Now that it was only the two of them, Charles turned to Erik, that same questioning gaze in his eyes. As Erik searched his expression further, he found a quiet determination that had often marked his old friend. For him, the decision was made in that moment, so he said so.
“I’ll do it.”