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Charles couldn't sleep.
He wasn't sure why at first, why his mind was agitated as it was, or why he felt like tossing and turning on the bed until he felt comfortable enough to sleep, when he realized those weren't his own feelings. He was still not sure if he had been the one reaching out, or if Jean had been projecting her unrest herself; he never knew how different it would feel to have another telepath around him at all times, how his mind would seek theirs first. It was all too new.
With a sigh, Charles sat on the bed, taking a moment to stare at the ground and access the girl's mind for an answer to her agitation, finding only the discomfort of being in a new place and the faint feeling of loss that she herself seemed to push away, controlling her own mind to keep away the memory of the parents she lost. It wasn't her first night at the school, but it might as well have been with how fresh all those feelings still felt.
Charles pursed his lips at that, closing his eyes as he remembered Jean's father giving her away with ease, not even trying to pretend he still cared for the girl. He'd tell her in time, but, for now, Charles kept that secret to himself, transferring himself to his chair and wheeling himself through the dark corridors. A quick reach of his telepathy showed that Hank was downstairs, still awake, while the students who were already living at the mansion slept peacefully; Jean seemed to be the only one awake.
He knocked at her door when he finally reached it, waiting for an answer and smiling a little at how her mind suddenly startled with the noise, her telepathy reaching out for Charles' mind, checking who it was — it felt messy, the girl's control barely there, but Charles could already feel she'd be powerful.
May I come in? Charles sent over, feeling the girl startle again at the sudden voice in her head before she calmed down, remembering Charles was like her.
Instead of an answer, Charles heard the lock clicking open, the door slowly moving to show the dark room inside, Jean looking like a dark silhouette as she sat on her bed, hand raised to command the door open. Charles offered a smile, the light coming from the hallway and the moon outside just bright enough to let Jean see it, and he heard a weak and unsure Come in, brushing against his mind.
He entered the room slowly, stopping his chair by the side of the girl's bed and watching as she studied him for a moment before crawling on the bed and sitting next to Charles, her hands resting against her lap, closed into fists. Her eyes didn't meet his.
"Was I bothering you again?" Jean asked, her voice small as Charles could feel her guilt. He tried smiling again, shaking his head. The movement seemed to grab her attention.
"No, not bothering. I felt you were having trouble sleeping again so I came here to check on you."
Jean stared at him again, red hair falling over her face before she pushed it back and crossed her arms in front of herself.
"The bed is weird," she confessed in a whisper, and Charles couldn't help but smile a little wider. "And there's the noise. People's minds are loud here…"
"I know," Charles nodded, seeing her nod back. "You'll get used to it, and I'll help you push them away with time."
"Did you have the same problem as me?"
"I did. It's a little annoying, isn't it?"
The girl nodded immediately, gesturing with her whole body how much she agreed with Charles' statement — such a childish gesture that Charles had to chuckle a little.
"I wish I could turn it off," Jean complained, her brow furrowed now as she took her hands to her own head, like it would make the noise go away. "I wish I didn't have this."
"What you have is extraordinary, Jean," Charles said, taking care to leave his voice as kind as possible, trying not to feel like a hypocrite — Lord knew how many times he had wished the same thing as a kid, and how he had turned his own telepathy off only a couple years ago. "I know it's annoying right now, but you are something wonderful, and the things you'll be able to do when you grow up..."
"You only say that because you have it too," she mumbled, crossing her arms again and sitting back a little more. Charles gave her a grin.
"Maybe," he shrugged. "You said my telepathy was incredible the other day."
"Because you can control it! I can't."
"But you will," Charles said, raising his hand to pat her on the head. "For now, you should try to sleep."
Jean faced the mattress again, her lips pressing into a tight line as she stared at it like it was her biggest enemy.
"Can you stay a little?" She whispered at him, her eyes wide and pleading as she looked back at Charles. "The noise is less annoying when you're around…"
Jean slept not long after, curled under the sheets as Charles watched her fall asleep, keeping the noise away from the girl's mind as much as he could, pushing away the nightmare that started to form in her mind — he could see the forming dream, the car that she had been when her powers manifested and her mother died, and he shifted the image as fast as he could as to not disturb her sleep.
Once she was already deep asleep, Charles sighed and ran his hand through her hair gently, leaving her room to try and sleep himself.
***
It had been a while since Charles had cooked for someone else, and he feared that the little skill he had in his Oxford times had vanished after so many years considering that, back then, he was already a mess in the kitchen. Still, he hoped that there was no way of getting pancakes wrong, especially when the batter was already made and he just needed to put it on the pan to cook now.
They came out a little burnt, thankfully still edible, but Jean didn't seem to mind at all. She just watched Charles place the pancakes on her plate before adding the syrup and eating them while looking through the kitchen's window, her mind feeling calm around the edges of Charles'. He watched her for a moment, taking one burnt pancake for himself, munching on it, not really hungry anymore since he had already eaten his breakfast but not wanting to just sit there while the girl ate alone.
A month had passed ever since Jean arrived at the house, and she still refused to eat with the other kids due to the noise and strange looks from the others at the knowledge Jean could read their minds. It had become routine to stay in the kitchen with Jean after breakfast was over so the girl could eat and not be alone, but Charles usually didn't have to cook her anything, always saving something for Jean from the breakfast itself; unfortunately, that day, the kids seemed extra hungry, and there was nothing Charles could save, so pancakes with premade batter it was.
"You know," Charles started, the girl's eyes going to him. Her cheek was stained with syrup somehow. "Maybe we should try to get you to eat breakfast with the others. It would be great training to keep people's minds out."
Jean stared at him for a moment, eyes going downwards right after. She shook her head, a small but stiff gesture, as if afraid of Charles' reaction to it.
"They don't like me," she muttered.
"They don't know you." Charles offered, but she didn't seem convinced. "I just don't like seeing you so alone, Jean…"
"I'm not alone," she shrugged, her lips curving into a shy smile now. "You're here with me."
Charles huffed out amusedly, smiling a little at the girl and nodding. For a moment, Charles was thankful he could be there for Jean, knowing what it was to grow up alone as a telepath. He'd had Raven, but it wasn't the same; Charles was never able to understand her, he knew that, but she was never able to understand him as well, not when their mutations were so far apart in nature. Jean had him to understand what it felt like.
"Next time," Jean started, suddenly looking and feeling a little sheepish, "can I make the pancakes? Yours are a little burnt…"
Charles snorted, shrugging his defeat over the pancakes — he should've known by now that cooking wasn't for him — and giving the girl a nod.
"As long as you're careful, maybe we can make them together."
Jean smiled at that, and Charles smiled back.
***
The sun was bright outside, but it wasn't too warm; the perfect weather, which the kids seemed to take advantage of as they sat outside on the grass or ran around, playing with their powers under the watchful gaze of the school's teachers. Charles reached out for one of the teachers' minds, trying to see if everything was well. Their mind seemed calm and devoid of worries about the students who were outside, and Charles allowed himself to relax and keep going with the paperwork he had to go through.
Before he could focus again, he felt another presence against his mind, his lips curling up into a smile even before he heard Jean's voice inside his head.
Are we going to Salem Center today? The girl asked, her excitement for a positive answer from Charles clear in her mind, coming at him in waves.
I never said we would be going today, darling, Charles sent back, the way Jean turned exasperated making him smile a little more.
But the movie comes out today! She tried. Charles sighed, putting the paperwork away, already knowing there would be no focusing on that now. And I can't- I don't want to go alone. I can't fully… My power, it's-
I know, Charles conceded, looking outside again as he saw the children laughing. You'd like me there so I can make sure you won't lose control.
There was silence for a moment, Jean's presence still there against his mind, surrounding him like his did with her. When her voice sounded again, it was to say a weak, So we're going today?
Charles closed his eyes, shaking his head at himself and smiling, knowing he was growing far too soft.
After your classes, he sent, feeling her excitement. Ask Hank to get the car ready at the front of the house, will you?
Will we get ice cream after?
We'll see. Why don't you go outside to play with the others for now?
Jean didn't reply to that, but Charles could feel her considering it. She was thirteen already, and Charles knew she was less wary of the others now with the years that passed since she arrived in Westchester, but she still kept herself guarded and away from others for most of the time.
He sighed in relief when he saw the girl's mind making a decision of talking to Hank before trying to talk with the other kids, despite the results of that.
***
The first time Jean felt confident enough to go out on her own, Charles had smiled the whole time as she eagerly told him about her time out and about everything that happened. She seemed happy, proud of herself, and Charles was only able to mirror those feelings.
"Jubilee is really good at the arcade, she won a lot, but she taught me some things as well," Jean said, walking back and forth, still too excited about going out on her own to stay quiet for one second. "And we befriended some kids there too!"
"I'm glad to hear that," Charles hummed, barely able to contain his smile. "Sounds like you had fun."
"I did," she nodded, looking at Charles with her eyes shining. She was still closed off with the other kids, always keeping her walls up, but never with Charles. "People's thoughts barely bothered me this time."
"It ends up being good training, you know? Being out there like that, on your own."
When the girl rolled her eyes, Charles raised his eyebrows.
"Does everything have to be training?" She asked, smirking, as if Charles amused her. "Do you have to be the Professor the whole time? When was the last time you had fun, Charles?"
"I have fun," Charles said, seeing Jean look at him like she didn't believe him one bit. "I have!"
"You're always behind this desk and looking at your papers," she waved her hand at the papers in question, making them float a little out of his reach as Charles gave her a warning glare — that paperwork was far too important. "Maybe you should go out with someone to have fun as well, dad."
Charles opened his mouth to reply when the word she used hit him, his eyes widening a little as she looked at the girl. She didn't seem to be less surprised than Charles, the papers flopping back down as she lost control over them. Charles could see the moment her face turned completely red, her thoughts becoming a little agitated now as he caught glimpses of the way she seemed to be berating herself inside her own head.
Before Charles could say something, she mumbled a quiet, "I'm leaving now," before bolting out of the door, leaving Charles alone to think about what had happened.
As the fact that Jean had called him "dad" settled, Charles could feel his chest getting warmer, a happiness he didn't think he would feel taking hold of him. He could understand why Jean would see him as a father figure after the years they spent together and how close they had grown, but he had never considered how the title would make him feel. The truth was that he had never seen himself as a father before, and yet it was easy to see Jean as his child.
Still, there was the matter he had been pushing back for the years he and Jean had been together, of the father she still had and yet didn't know she did. Maybe, he thought to himself, it was time to let Jean know the truth — she was almost sixteen now, maybe just old enough to take the news more gracefully.
Later that night, he knocked on the door of Jean's room, the door opening by itself like always, only to reveal a sheepish Jean sitting on her bed. When he smiled at him, she smiled back.
"I think we have a lot to talk about, darling..."
***
Charles' coffee was already lukewarm as he took a sip of it, looking at the end of the road once again to see everyone who was coming his way. None of them were Jean, and her mind was still out of his reach unless he decided to expand it, which meant she was still at her father's house. He had been reluctant to let the girl go by herself, but he knew he couldn't be there; it was Jean's problem to solve, and her decision to make in case Mr. Grey decided he missed his daughter after all.
The selfish part in Charles couldn't help but wish she'd come back already so they could go back to the school, that same part seeing Jean as his own child after Jean had called him "dad" — what right Mr. Grey would have to want Jean back after giving her away like he did? Charles was the one who raised her and gave her a home. He was the one who saw Jean get out of her shell slowly and get better with her powers, each day more powerful and controlled. But, in the end, Charles knew it was Jean's choice to make.
He sipped on his coffee again, too absorbed in his own thoughts to see when Jean turned the corner of the street and walked towards the small café, only aware of her presence when she moved the chair on the other side of the table and sat there. Charles' eyes widened at the suddenness of her appearance, noticing how her expression didn't give up much about how her talk with Mr. Grey had gone. Her mind seemed closed off as well.
A waiter gave her a menu before Charles could ask something, her face buried against the menu and hidden from Charles in an instant. It was faint with how Jean seemed to be blocking Charles out, but he could feel the sadness of her thoughts for an second. It hadn't gone well, apparently.
Charles clenched his jaw for a moment, trying to think of what to say, remembering suddenly how bad at comforting people he actually was sometimes, knowing that he'd probably say the wrong thing if he tried. Instead, he raised his hand, touching the top of the menu and tugging on it gently, seeing Jean finally look back at him as she lowered it. She seemed on the verge of crying.
He took the menu without a word, turning it around and sliding it towards her again on the table, pointing at the section where the ice creams were. Jean's expression seemed to soften a little.
"I'm alright," she muttered, eyes down towards the menu still, although Charles could see she wasn't reading it. It wasn't fully sincere.
"Mhm," Charles hummed, Jean's eyes finally rising to look at him. "But we always buy ice cream when we go out."
"True," she shrugged, taking the menu again but not hiding her face this time. Her free arm seemed to wrap around herself, hand resting on her own shoulder, hugging herself in a protective gesture. "Can I get the big one?"
Charles fake grimaced at the choice, seeing a smile finally appear on the girl's lips.
"Of course, go ahead," he said, drinking the rest of his coffee, wincing at how cold it already was. "I'll stick with coffee today. Or maybe order a tea."
"So I'm getting a sugar rush and you'll get high on caffeine?"
With a chuckle, Charles said, "I'd rather none of these things happened, but yes."
They placed their orders, silence falling over them for a moment before Jean finally spoke again.
"Thank you."
"For what?" Charles asked with a frown, seeing the way Jean's smile disappeared again.
"For telling me about my father and bringing me here," she explained in a quiet voice. "I was… angry at you at first for hiding it from me, but after talking to him I know why you did it."
"I'm sorry, Jean," Charles muttered back, seeing her eyes on him again. To his surprise, she smiled.
"I still have a dad, at least. He buys me ice cream, and looks a little disappointed when my grades are low," she said, the arm that was wrapped around herself holding a little tighter on her shoulder, like she was nervous. "You know, dad stuff. I think I'll be okay."
With a sigh, Charles' face softened over the girl, moving his chair around the table to stay by her side, pulling her closer to place a kiss to the top of her head. Jean leaned towards him easily, head resting against Charles' shoulder as her walls crumbled again, her mind there for Charles to see again, just like his was there for her. Although the sadness didn't leave, there was a quiet sense of comfort in her mind as she stayed close to Charles.
***
Charles couldn't help but smile softly as Jean tried to understand the chess game they were playing, still too new to the game to be able to win over Charles, although she tried her best.
Charles remembered a time when he looked exactly like that, being taught by his father how to play the complicated game, trying his best to win over his old man. There was something comforting in seeing Jean sitting where he once sat, her eyes studying the pieces with determination that she could still win even if she was still learning.
Everything felt right.