Chapter Text
Professor Xavier always felt a sense of anticipation when a new mutant arrived at the school. For most of them, this was the first place where they would feel truly accepted, a place where they would expand their skills and grow into their powers. However, today was different. The mutant who would be arriving was not a child, or even a teenager. She was a woman. And, unlike most of the mutants who crossed the threshold into his school, she was, as far as Charles could tell, unaware of her powers.
It was really quite fascinating, he mused as he walked along the corridor. Most mutants became aware of their differences in adolescence-usually when the powers escaped their control for the first time. But there had been no such experience for Zara Reilly. Charles wondered if he was doing the right thing by bringing her here. There were reasons why things had stayed hidden for her. He smiled quietly. The children needed a new experience, and she was one of the most qualified available to teach them this. If other things happened as a result, he would do his best to help it be positive.
She was standing with her back to the door as he entered, watching a group of children on the lawn playing soccer. He could see the curve of her smile as she watched.
Charles cleared his throat. "Miss Reilly?"
She turned quickly. "Yes? Yes! How do you do? You must be Professor Xavier. It's very nice to finally meet you."
He returned her smile and extended his hand. "The pleasure is truly mine, Miss Reilly. It's going to be a privilege to have you with us." She stepped forward and shook his hand.
Pain...
It sliced through his head briefly and was gone. Charles had put his normal shields in place as he did each day, but just barely kept his expression pleasant as the feeling shot through him. Her face hadn't changed at all. She was still smiling. She was genuinely pleased to meet him. Where that feeling had come from, he couldn't say, but he would not open his mind further to try and touch hers. He focused on what she was saying.
"I must admit, Professor, I'm very excited to be here. This will be the first time your students have performed Shakespeare?"
He laughed.
"Yes indeed. Please-". He indicated that she should sit. " I'm sure you'll think it criminally negligent of me as a teacher, but so many things seem to have taken precedence up until now. The children have studied some plays, of course, and read them aloud in class, but this will be their first time actually performing."
Zara Reilly's eyes lit up. "How wonderful. It's wonderful of you to even consider it, a lot of schools don't these days."
"Well, I spent quite a while in the UK, so I suppose I do have a bit of a bias."
She smiled back at him. "Whatever it takes, Professor."
xxx
"So, tell me honestly, what do you think about when you hear the name "Shakespeare?"
There was silence. Zara waited patiently. Finally, one child piped up. "Boring."
"Yes! Boring!" The new teacher actually seemed thrilled with that answer, instead of getting mad. Another pause, this one shorter. "Funny words."
"Definitely, funny words. Not like any words you use, right?"
Ororo laughed. "No way!"
"So how come we have to do it, then?" Scott asked from the back of the room.
Zara smiled. "Because you're going to find out that Shakespeare is a lot of fun."
She didn't seem fazed at all by the suspicious looks on their faces.
xxx
Zara was always grateful at the end of the day. It meant she could go home, wherever that was, close the door, and let the mask drop. She could walk slowly if she needed to, move in the way that caused her the least pain. Plus, as antisocial as it was, there was something that soothed her about being shut inside.
Her new home could not have been more comfortable. She had her own bathroom and windows that looked over rolling green hills and a tiny sliver of lake in the distance. The furnishings were luxurious. Zara sighed with pleasure. The children were bright, and the location was ideal. It would be a wonderful job. Maybe the Professor would have her back next year, if things went well.
Don't get ahead of yourself, lady. Boy, could she dream. It was the end of the first day and she was already planning for next year.
There was a gentle knock at the door. Zara went to open it-she was still in her work clothes, although her shoes were off. The Professor was on the other side.
"Miss Reilly."
"Hello, Professor."
"I came to tell you that dinner is served for the faculty every night in the small dining room. Won't you join us?"
Oh, no. Yes, she was hungry but if she put her shoes back on and started walking again, she wouldnt be able to hide her stiff joints. Not recommended, displaying your weaknesses in front of the boss on the first day. She could live without dinner.
"Thank you so much, Professor, but I actually planned to do some text work on the play and go to bed early. I want the children to start trying parts tomorrow."
Instead of a polite goodnight, his eyes lit up and he smiled. "Text work already? Which edition will you be using?
He knew Shakespeare, he knew books. Of course he does, you idiot, Zara muttered to herself. He's THE Professor, for God's sake. She returned his smile. "Riverside, for text work. I'll use the Arden series for the actual script."
"How marvelous. What will you do if they disagree?"
She had to laugh at that, but she was proud to have an answer. "The Norton edition will be the tiebreaker."
"You have two different editions of Shakespeare's complete works?"
"Yes, but two really isn't that many. Some of my colleagues have five or six, and of course there's always a new one coming out."
"This is wonderful. We must continue this conversation over dinner. I'll show you to the dining room" and he began to turn towards the hall.
"No-"
Xavier turned back to face her. "No?"
"Please forgive me, I would love to continue the conversation, just-not tonight. I really want to get this done and early bed, prep for tomorrow.".
"But, Miss Reilly, I really want you to eat. I noticed that you didn't have lunch today because you were talking with some of the children."
He noticed that, did he? Well, it didn't change anything. "I'm truly not hungry tonight. First day jitters and everything. Tomorrow will be different. Could we continue then?"
He smiled. "Of course. But, I'll have a dinner tray sent to your room." He held up one finger to stop her protest. "Fling the tray out the window if you'd rather, but I will send it."
She had to laugh at that. "I guess that's fair. And-I appreciate your checking in."
"Of course. You did quite well today. Ororo is especially excited." He turned and began walking down the hall. "I will see you at breakfast in the morning", he called back, half-friendly, half-commanding.
xxx
Charles made sure to be there, involved in conversation with other teachers, when Zara did arrive for breakfast in the morning. He watched her get her bearings and then serve herself eggs and fruit. He caught her eye and smiled a greeting, then went right back into his discussion, keeping a small corner of his mind alert.
He didn't want to read her thoughts. He tried to keep that off the table, always, until and unless someone gave him permission. What people didn't realize was that doing that constantly was like trying to not hear a radio that someone else turned on. It wasn't his fault that he could hear it, and it wasn't their fault that they didn't want him to hear it. There were plenty of reasons to read her, read anyone: he was in charge, reponsible etc. Reasons against: once he read her, he would know more, and that knowledge might compel him to act, to help her or protect someone else, and just when he might need her trust would be when she discovered that he had already betrayed it. Perhaps a compromise, then, he considered as he sipped his tea. He sent his energy outward, stopping just short of the boundaries of Zara's mind.
Pain. Like a nail gun through the wrist; an ache in the neck. Careful, don't lift that with just one hand-
Charles placed his teacup a little too firmly in the saucer. "Sorry," he said absently as people glanced his way.
xxx
"So tell me, how are you getting along?"
It was normal for him to check in with all of the faculty regularly, and usually informally, but Zara was new, so he had called her to his office before dinner one evening.
"Very well, thank you, Professor."
"What's your impression so far of the students?"
"They're excellent. We're in the phase now where it seems all analysis and wordy-words to them, but they're giving it a good try. I'm really enjoying working with them."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"But-I have a question for you."
"I hope it's not about Shakespeare, Miss Reilly, as my knowledge nowhere near equals yours."
"I was wondering how you might feel about having an evening of monologues and scenes, instead of an entire play."
"Interesting. Is a full play a little too ambitious for their level of experience?"
"No, not at all. It's just-they're all so different, I don't want to confine them all inside one play, at least not yet. I can already see Hank as the Old Shepherd, and Scott as Hotspur, and Ororo as Imogen. I think they'd have more fun this way."
"I'm sorry-Hank as the Old Shepherd?"
"From The Winter's Tale. 'I would there were no age between sixteen and three-and twenty, or that youth would sleep out the rest, for there is nothing in the interim but getting wenches with child, wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting-'"
He couldn't help but laugh. "I've never heard that one before-but it actually sounds like Hank."
"You know, because he's so precise and grown up already. When the kids run around him and joke, all he can think of is that they might jostle one of his projects."
"That's wonderful-and true. But, technically he's not a student. What if he says no?"
"Then he says no...but I think he will, if I give him time."
"Then I shall not stand in your way. I think the idea of scenes and monologues will be excellent. Go ahead in whatever way you think best." She smiled in response. "Now tell me, how are you personally getting along?"
"Very well. This is a beautiful school-I'm enjoying every minute."
Fair or not, Charles again extended his energy to just outside Zara's boundaries. This was more difficult with her than some others, as her boundaries felt more-fluid-than others. There wasn't a clear delineation. But as he hovered outside, there it was again: Pain. It aches to be upright. Soon I can sit still...
"And, have you been feeling well? Some of the teachers have told me the house can get a bit damp-it's quite old. If you feel a cold, or any aches coming on, will you tell me?"
She looked back at him without the smallest change of expression. "That's very kind of you. Of course I will."
And there was nothing for it but to dismiss her. "Then I won't keep you from your dinner."
"Thank you." She smiled and as she rose he felt her teeth grit and the pain shudder. Whatever it was, she felt it was worth lying about. She walked to the door-was there something odd about her gait?-and let herself out quietly.
Charles had been debating whether or not to take this step without her permission, but his need for answers finally outweighed his efforts to remain at a respectful distance. She was always smiling and friendly. The children liked her. He liked her. They had enjoyed several fascinating conversations about Shakespeare and theatre. Zara was very intelligent and didn't mind debating with him, which was refreshing. For someone who was supposedly entirely human, she had not expressed so much as a flicker of surprise at the children's powers. The children assumed she was one of them, and Charles was idly pleased that his lessons on manners seemed to be taking hold-none of the students had cheerfully asked her to "show them hers," at least not yet. She was enthusiastic and truly enjoyed her work.
And yet, every time he came near, he felt the waves of pain radiating from her. They were muted, definitely, but if that much was getting through while she smiled and encouraged the children in class, there must be much more underneath. He tried to convince himself that he was acting solely for the good of the school and the students, but he knew that part of it was, he wanted to understand her. He wanted to know where such pain was coming from. And, he wanted to help her. He closed his eyes, relaxed, and reached out.
Tendrils of pain snaked through his mind. She was physically hurting. Charles went a little deeper and the pain was infused with sadness and hopelessness. He felt her emotions begin to catch hold of him and so he backed away slightly, standing a bit removed so that he would not become overwhelmed. Understanding began to flicker in his mind.
Her mutation was attacking her.
Charles always tried to speak of mutation as a gift, a demonstration of the power of Nature, to keep the children positive, even for those who suffered with a gift that was very "extreme", as he called it. Zara's gift was extreme, and it was locked away behind shields that seemed to be as strong and as well constructed as those he had spent years in creating for himself. Yet, something was odd. With shields that strong, he should have faced significant resistance when entering her mind. These shields hadn't been created to keep him, or anyone else, out. They had been created to keep her in.
Charles pulled back and opened his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
Zara was in significant physical pain. It saddened him, but didn't surprise him. Mutations exacted a price from their hosts. Those like Raven...he closed his eyes as her face flashed in his mind...and Hank wore the price on their skin for all to see. For others, it was more hidden, but no less painful. However, what really intrigued Charles was that he hadn't yet gotten a picture of what Zara's gift was. Her gift was hidden from him-and from her-behind those shields. And the price was that her body was protesting with pain every time she moved.
He reached out again, and easily sank a little further into her mind. Zara was putting so much effort into keeping herself inside those shields, where the pain (and her gift) were somewhat at bay, that she had nothing extra with which to feel what he was doing-his mental energy simply became another part of the white noise she was hiding from. Still, he had to be careful. Removing those blocks before she was ready, before truly understanding why she had constructed them in the first place, would be traumatic in the extreme. So Charles moved carefully around the shields and allowed images from her mind to speak to him.
Pain. Pain when she walked, when she sat down, when she stayed still. She was limping a bit now, because it was the end of the day. Charles dissolved his energy into smaller and smaller components until he could see the heightened immune responses attacking the molecules in her joints. Her body was in a constant state of emergency, though she hid it brilliantly. Something was trying to make itself known to her and she wouldn't listen, so it had resorted to gaining her attention through pain and distress, like a child inviting punishment.
Compassion flooded through him.
xxx
"I wonder if you would mind waiting a minute, Zara."
He had never used her first name before. She was surprised, but tried to mask it. "Of course, Professor."
He smiled. "You've been here for weeks-surely you can call me Charles by now?"
"Certainly, if you'd prefer it. I haven't wanted to appear-"
"Unprofessional, I know." He cut her off gently. "But, Zara, I would appreciate it if you would call me Charles, because I have some things to say to you that are of a personal nature." He smiled to put her at ease. "Please, sit."
She sat. Only someone who was watching carefully would see that her movements were not entirely fluid-the pain always increased at the end of the day. Zara looked at him expectantly.
"Prof...Charles. I hope you'll feel comfortable telling me anything you think I need to know." No doubt she thought he would be speaking of his own personal issues, not hers.
"Thank you for that, Zara. To begin, I simply have an observation-you've been here for a while now, and we've discussed the children's progress almost every day. In all that time, you've never thought to mention to me their particular...gifts?"
She tried to evade. "Well, I'm one of those annoying teachers that think all children have gifts, I suppose-"
"That's not what I mean, Zara, and I think you know that."
She paused. "This is a school for the gifted. You are their primary teacher. You know them better than I ever could. You never mentioned it, so I didn't think you needed me to specifically mention that the children here are all mutants. Ultimately, it doesn't matter to my work what kind of extra-gifts-they have."
"But you have noticed?"
Zara smiled quietly. "Of course. They're children; they like to show off. And they obviously feel comfortable doing that here." Her brow furrowed. "Is there a problem?"
"Not in the way you might think. Of course, I wish to keep them protected. The least of my concerns is those who might mock them, and unfortunately there are far greater things to worry about than that. That's why we're so-isolated, if you will. In fact, as you might also have noticed, there are very few teachers or staff here that do not have "gifts" of their own. I simply won't risk having someone here that can't be trusted. Plus, the best role models for the students are those who have dealt with their own mutations."
"I'm honored by your trust, but if that's the case-"
"Why did I bring you here? For that exact reason. The best role models for the students are those who have dealt-or are dealing with-their own mutations."
"I'm sorry; I don't follow you."
Here was the opportunity.
"Zara, I hired you for this job because you are very qualified, you are an excellent teacher, and you are dealing with a mutation."
She froze. There was a pause. "I assume you're referring to the arthritis."
Charles met her gaze evenly. "What arthritis? You never mentioned any kind of illness when you interviewed for the job."
And, fuck all, he had caught her in the lie, easy as that. She closed her eyes for a minute to regroup. "All right, yes. I do have arthritis; I've had it for years. Of course I didn't disclose it in the interview-I needed and wanted this job. And, I might add, it does not affect my ability to do the job." She tried to keep the edge out of her voice. "But I know the last thing any employer wants is to worry about the health of an employee."
"I think we can perhaps agree that you might be unfamiliar with what I want."
Well, that stung.
"I apologize. I just meant that-in my experience-the knowledge affects people, no matter how much they try to ignore it."
"Oh, you're correct on that front. Knowledge always changes us. We have to try and make sure the changes are for the better."
Zara took a breath. "Professor-now that you know-are you asking me to leave the job?"
They were back to "Professor," already, Charles realized. Not a good sign. "Absolutely not. I'm asking you to be receptive to some new knowledge."
"I-um-" She wildly considered what would happen if she said no. "All right."
"There are all kinds of mutations, large and small, noticeable and invisible. Most people are walking around with at least a few mutations and never know about them. In fact, it's more "normal" to have some mutations, somewhere, than to not have any at all. I have blue eyes-that's one mutation. You have red hair-that's another one. These mutations are called "neutral"-they don't harm us, or help us really. They simply differentiate us." He looked at Zara to gauge her reaction. She didn't yet have that "get-to-the-POINT" look that the students got when he was getting wordy.
"Then, there are beneficial mutations. All of the students here have some kind of beneficial mutation, something that can help them, whether it's increased strength, sight, agility, or thought. It may not always seem beneficial, especially to the students themselves-and we won't know for a long time if these mutations will be passed on and increase the strength of the overall population. And then, the harmful mutations, which I have a feeling you know all about."
"So what you're saying, Professor, is that even though my mutation is harmful to me, it's a mutation, so I qualify to teach at your school?"
"Hardly." He pushed away the pain that wanted to flare up in his chest-God, he missed Erik. Nobody told you that when you lost someone, it wasn't ever really over and done with-you kept losing them, every time you wished they were there, just to ask one question, just to share one thing they would appreciate better than anyone else. Erik, Raven, Moira... How would Erik handle this? Bluntly. He would tell Zara she was a mutant, tell her to make a choice, and walk away. If she followed, fine.
Perhaps it would be easier that way, for him and Zara both. Charles would never know.
I'm not talking about the pain, actually."
Her eyes locked on his. "Then what are you talking about?"
"Yes, the pain is caused by a mutation, but that's not the mutation I'm interested in, other than it hurts you, and I want that to stop."
"Well, I appreciate that, but I want it to stop too, and it never has." Now she couldn't keep the edge from her voice.
"Will you at least listen to me?"
"I am listening. It has to be the arthritis. There's nothing else."
"Zara. There is."
Confusion mixed with fear began to scratch at the corners of his mind. "I don't know what you mean, Professor."
"You do. Perhaps it doesn't seem like anything special, just something that's always been there."
"Most mutants manifest their powers in or before adolescence, correct? I've never had any kind of manifestation. No powers." She smiled limply. "Sorry."
"The key word there is "most", Zara. I believe you've suppressed your abilities."
"What makes you think that?"
"As irritating as it might sound, I have very good intuition."
"If you don't know what-abilities-they might be, how can you be so sure that I have any at all?"
"Again, intuition."
"I'm telling you the truth, even though it sounds like I might lose my job for it."
"I promise, your job isn't in danger, Zara."
Zara stood. A whine of pain raced through his mind. "I'm not a mutant. I wish that wasn't the case, really-I'd like to have a gift that would makesomething easier for me." She was heading for the door, her limp obvious as her control eroded. "But you are mistaken, Professor."
Zara. Stop.
Charles' voice, somehow amplified, echoed around her and inside her. She stopped dead, still facing the door. In what seemed like the next instant, she was sitting again and Charles was across from her, so close they could have touched, his blue eyes holding hers.
"I've frightened you, Zara, and I wish I didn't have to. Believe me, I tried to think of another way. But, not dealing with this would cause you more pain in the long run, though, and-I don't want that."
"But-why?"
"Do you want to have a guess as to what my mutation is?"
Her eyes got wider. Something else she hadn't considered. "I'm a telepath, Zara. I know you have a mutation because I've been feeling it since you arrived here."
"You're a telepath...?" Oh no, no no no no...
"Yes. Your symptoms began when you were thirteen. In adolescence," he said pointedly. "Since then, it's gotten worse. You take five medicines each morning and four each evening. You had heart surgery at nineteen and almost died from an unexplained pulmonary embolism when you were twenty-three." Charles leaned forward. "You believe things will never get better."
Fear, stronger than she had felt in a long time, surged in her. She tried to hold it together. "You're a telepath, and you have students to protect. Either way, knowing those facts proves you either did research or you pulled them from my mind. And unless you and I have very different ideas about what a "gift" is, nothing you've said changes anything. " She placed her hand on the arm of the couch and shoved herself upward. She had to get out of here before she started to cry.
Zara, please.
The voice resonated inside her again.
Don't be afraid.
A feeling of calm started to seep into her. She pushed against it, but it amplified, and she felt herself take a deep breath, the fear retreating to the back of her mind. It was-less important. It was a relief.
Zara. I want to help you. I want to try and stop the pain.
Sobs suddenly flowed out of her, tears hot as they slid down her cheeks, and she collapsed back on to the couch. It took a few tries to get the words out.
"You-can't. There's-nothing-to be-done. I just-have to-live-with it."
Charles touched her then, gently on her wrist. "That's where you're wrong. And if you'll let me, I'll prove it to you."
"No...no," she said quietly, not even sure why she was protesting any longer.
"All right, no," Charles said calmly, keeping his hand on her wrist and his touch on her mind. He gently pressed again on the tiny area that had begun to glow fitfully when he relaxed her. He would never force the choice on her, on anyone. She could continue to refuse, but the refusal would not be because she was afraid. "You've said no. I've heard you." He skimmed across her mind, touching synapses that pulsed and fired in response. "You're tired, Zara. I'm going to take you to your room, and you're going to go to bed. A good sleep, no dreams, no pain. You'll remember all this, but we won't talk about it again until you want to."
And then she was in her room, going through the motions of getting ready for bed. She felt-better. Like someone was right behind her, she could almost feel their warmth, all she had to do was lean back and she would be supported, protected. Somewhere, a soft protest rose up in her mind, but she brushed it aside, it melted, and she fell asleep.
Charles, standing just outside her door, felt Zara's mind relax into sleep and he sighed as the stress dissolved in the back of his mind. He stretched out a delicate strand of thought, let it flow until it curved around the edge of one of her mind's shields. He focused it into a point, saw it glow like metal in a fire-Erik-and allowed the point to touch her outermost shield.
He expanded it slightly, held it there, until it burned a tiny hole and a pinpoint of light shone in, where light had not been for a long time. More importantly, a breath of a glow came back the other way, and Charles smiled as it appeared.