…and I’m not even near halfway, yet. Ugh.
Continued…
“Oh… right.” There were only three types of cheese in the Brotherhood house. Kraft, Swiss, and moldy-beyond-recognition. Todd located the yellow food and spread a bit on a cracker.
It was damn good, despite his qualms about eating in front of an enemy. You were vulnerable while eating and drinking in the tenements. To protect yourself, you’d have to drop your food and risk losing it.
Todd made short work of the snack and did not take his eyes off the Professor.
“We have had some experience with varying levels of metabolism. Mister Wagner for instance, has set the record."
Todd grinned. "Him? Bet he don’t eat as much as Freddy or Pietro."
"You’d be surprised, Mr. Tolensky.” Charles looked at Sara. “More tea?"
"Please."
Both men observed Sara’s perfect posture and grace while she held the cup steady beneath the stream of green tea. _She’s like a whole ‘nother person, yo. That can’t be healthy._ Charles could hear Todd fretting. The boy had another cracker in his hand and was distractedly flipping and rolling it around his fingers as if it were a coin.
Sara glanced at him and looked pointedly at the cracker. "Todd, dearest…"
He blushed. "Ah, sorry. Nervous habit.” Sheepishly, he spread some cheese on it.
“Quite allright.” She turned back to Charles. “What exactly do you wish to talk to me about?"
Charles leaned back in his wheelchair and folded his hands. "A number of things. I wish to answer any questions you may have about the X-gene, the Institute, or anything at all. I want you to relax, tell me about yourself. I know there’s a great deal more to you than meets the eye."
Sara glanced at the skin hanging off her left wrist. "What meets the eye is probably displeasing enough. You don’t have to do any digging to find my faults. I can list them from memory."
"Sara…” Todd whimpered. “Please -"
"Let her talk, Mr. Tolensky,” Charles interrupted gently.
“But –"
Xavier glanced at Todd. There was understanding and sympathy. And a desire to help. Charles needed to understand Sara without prying. He needed her to talk. He needed her to open up and speak freely. For her to know she *could*.
Todd hung his head and remained quiet, nails digging into his palm at nearly every word his love used to describe herself. He was going to make her mother pay for every *syllable*.
~
Sara was a study in juxtaposition. Her posture and pose came from a textbook in etiquette, knees close together, ankles crossed underneath the chair, back straight, elbows in, and a teacup perched in its saucer, held delicately in one hand.
It was as if her mind conjured a lace-trimmed hat and a matching garden frock for herself, instead of the ratty, paint-stained shorts and the ill-fitting _Hello Kitty_ T-shirt. There were even delicate, open-toed sandals instead of the collapsible boots.
Xavier had to shake off the mental picture and focus on the real one.
"Well,” said Sara. “At first, and foremost, I’m a great disapointment to my mother and her family. I grew out of being cute and never quite grew out of growing.” She took a sip of her tea. “I’ve made it something of a career over the years. Mom always wanted the best, but - no matter what the school, I managed to get myself thrown out ot it."
"Were you *happy* in them?” said Xavier.
Sara seemed startled by the question. “I - I - uh…” Confusion drew her worried gaze to Todd.
He nervously swallowed his mouthful of cracker-cheese-pate-cracker mini sandwiches. “Don’ look at me, babe. You’d know better'n me."
The tea came to rest in her lap as Sara stared into her memories.
Xavier received the impression of quite a lot of boring corridors, the heady smell of boiled cabbages, and unmitigated, stultifying boredom.
"No,” she said at last, her tone wondering. “I suppose I wasn’t very happy in any of them. I suppose the whole of them were rather… boring."
"How so?” he said, sipping his tea.
“Well, Lady Favisham’s was a nice enough place. After a while, I was simply going to visit the horses…” A clear, vivid image almost inundated him. A gentle giant of a creature, not a classic beauty in horse terms, but brilliant in his own way. Sara called him Sergeant Bothari, and taught him dressage. Together, they were something of a hit at Renaissance fairs.
She also remembered the laughter from her contemporaries still at Favisham’s.
An ugly horse and an ugly rider, they’d said, a perfect match.
The whole mental flood took but an instant. Xavier made himself listen.
“I suppose I put up with it all for Mom…” a slight tremor shivered across her face. “If I could make her proud, if I could make her smile… If I could be *worth* something again…"
Todd began radiating anxiety, and flinched to comfort her.
Xavier stilled him with one upraised hand. Stop. Wait. There was something… off… Altogether off, entirely, about her thoughts.
_…never worth anything to *ANYONE*… Useless gawk of a girl!_
It took all his control not to flinch at the mental presence.
Then Sara’s true-self trapped the gorgon and filed it away… a glimpse of a mental warehouse like the final scene in _Raiders of the Lost Ark_ Other errant things were caught and packed away. Feelings, mostly.
"Sara… please stop that."
"Hmn?” Her outside demeanor was shockingly blank. “What do you mean?"
"I can sense you putting your emotions aside. It’s very dangerous to bottle up your feelings like that."
"They’re not bottles, they’re boxes,” murmured Sara. “It’s far better that I put them away. I simply won’t be fit for company if I let them loose…"
Xavier unconsciously echoed Todd’s expression of worried concern. "How do you mean, unfit for company?"
A pastiche of memories. Mother yelling at her until her body was barely her own any more. Twitching and spasming helplessly. Wanting to stop it, but being unable…
"Nobody wants to look at a spastic wreck,” Sara murmured.
“Are you epileptic?"
"No, no… I don’t know…” Once she shook her head, it continued tic'ing 'no’ as she spoke. A blush rose slowly over her face. “There *was* one episode when I cracked my head on a tile by accident. I was ten. Ray took me to the hospital and they ran some tests… Awful business. The end result was a handful of stitches, a small investigation, and the conclusion that I didn’t exhibit any symptoms of epilepsy, cerebral palsy, or any other kind of neurological disorder whatsoever. Then Dad came home and it all cleared up, and nothing more was said."
Another mental flood. Sara clearly adored her father.
The memory served to still her tic’s too… Odd.
"And you never cracked your head again?"
"Mother always stops when I begin to cry, now,” said Sara. She kept control by Polite Conversation. The odd tic would escape, but they remained mostly facial ones. “She’s always concerned that I never get hurt."
_On the outside, anyway,_ Todd’s thought was clear and loud. _Fuckin’ bitch._ And the echo of Sara’s mother, seemingly inhabiting Sara’s body.
"I see,” said Xavier. This warranted further investigation. Later. Right now, he had to lead the subject onto more comfortable ground. “Tell me… is there anything you particularly *like* persuing? Something you’re proud of?"
"I find great peace in books and harps. Oh. And Chuckie."
Tickling whiskers and soft fur… the pinpricks of tiny claws. A little creature in plastic tubes. "Oh. A *hamster*…” he blurted.
Sara got a startled look. “Yes. He is. How–"
"Sorry,” he said. “I’m a telepath… and sometimes - thoughts can be very clear. Even when I have my guard up."
~~
"Umm…” Sara wondered just how many of her other thoughts had gone through Xavier’s guard. “Just how badly was I 'projecting’?” She blushed crimson. _The way you went on, you stupid girl, he’s probably ready to send you back to that rat’s nest you lied to me to spend the night in. Nobody wants a wreck like you in their home._
But Xavier waved a hand to waive her concern. “You needn’t worry. There was nothing at all embarrassing, I’m sure.” _Disturbing and alarming, however…_ “Even if there was I’m not inclined to gossip."
"Do you ever lower your guard on purpose?” Sara asked carefully. Xavier appeared to pause in thought.
“I will not disagree that while unethical, I have used my powers to gain an edge over adversaries,” he answered, just as carefully. “I’m sure Todd can tell you if he already hasn’t."
The amphibian boy flushed and appeared to critique the rug pattern.
"He can erase memories,” Todd muttered. “And tell when somebody’s lyin’. Dunno if he can do any Vulcan tricks like puttin’ someone to sleep, but I do know he’s the main reason Mags wears a bucket on his head."
When all else fails, crack a joke. That was Todd’s way of dealing with stress. Xavier felt a twinge of guilt for adding to it. Sara was looking at him, head tilted gracefully in concern.
"What happened between you and the Brotherhood?” she asked. There was an awkward silence. Sara guessed she’d stepped onto very uncomfortable turf.
“We just different, yo,” Todd spoke. Xavier appeared to relax, obviously he’d been waiting for Todd to go first. “I don’t think they’re all bad, though, just jerks sometimes. This ain’t one of those times,” he said quickly, looking up at Xavier cautiously. Todd fidgeted, trying to come up with a way to better explain why the two teams were divided. “It’s not just that we have different opinions 'bout humans… guess it’s first impressions too.
"Me, well… I came here that one night for two reasons. One 'cause Mystique told me if I didn’t steal for her, she’d kill me, and two, Summers invited me. Well, not really, I guess I sorta badgered him into inviting me. Still, he did. So I went. I expected them to be all nice and stuff, even if it was just forced - just to be polite you know? Maybe then I coulda told them about Mystique. Instead they decided they didn’t really want to talk to me unless they liked my powers or somethin. I was tested and offered a chance to stay, but at that point I felt I’d been yanked around on my chain enough. I tried getting them back, got my ass kicked, and left."
Todd wasn’t meeting Xavier’s gaze. He was guessing it was less than pleased. "Since then it was always like they was too good for me. For all of us. Lance never got talked to at all and Freddy had this thing with Jean that ended badly. Pietro just doesn’t like Daniels period. We don’t belong with them. But it’s not like we really wanna kill 'em or nothin’. Well, most of the time. Maybe irritate them once a day…"
He looked at his sneakers, surprised at himself. He was admitting the truth for once about his feelings toward the Xmen - to himself as much as anyone else. All because he wanted to be good… to not scare her away from someone who could help her.
Love indeed was a powerful thing.
~
"Very many mistakes were made,” said Xavier. “Cerebro was - quirky… at the time. When you came to us, Mr Tolensky, I had to be sure my readings were accurate. The rest…” he trailed off, looking distraught. One hand flinched in a memory, reaching minimally out for an event that was no longer happening. “It was a cascade of errors. I deply regret it."
Sara watched Todd, now, as he sized up Xavier’s body language. "A'ight,” he said. “Plus the whole thing of sneakin’ in to steal yo’ stuff didn’t do no good. Over an’ gone, now. Nuttin’ to be done.” He helped himself to some more pate and crackers.
Sara felt uniquely jealous of his ability to leave the past where it stood. Perhaps she could learn it from him, one day. As it was, her nightmares were plaguing her. “I don’t like hurting people,” she said. “Especially my friends. I have so very few of them, you see… I–” her throat stuck. Sara had to sip her tea. “(hem) I don’t have to fight - if I don’t want to, do I?"
"No,” said Xavier. “However, I would like to make sure that you could defend yourself… should an event arise where peaceful intentions are… inadequate."
"Of course. 'Be prepared’ is a motto of mine.” Her tic made her mouth twitch a grin. “Were it not for a quirk of genetics, I could have been a scout."
Todd’s face was easily readable. It said, _Not funny, babe._
She changed the subject after another sip of tea. "The question remains, Professor… how are you going to pass off someone like *me* as gifted?"
His look was one of sympathetic pain, as if she’d just maimed herself for all to see. How odd. "I do believe that there will be no need for any 'passing off’,” he said. “I haven’t been prying, but you are a very intelligent young lady and–"
Sara burst out in laughter, and tried to quell it with rising desperation. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Perhaps you didn’t pay attention. I’m in Remedial *Ed.* I fail at everything I try to put my hand to,” _Including pleasing my Mom…_ “I’m *adequate* with the harp, but that’s *it*."
"You’re wrong, yo,” said Todd. “I seen your site. You do brilliant stuff every day, sweetie. Yo’ make movies, an’ you make toons, an’ you design stuff alla time. Hell, yo; you runnin’ five businesses in yo’ spare time. That’s gotta take *some* smarts."
"Just bookkeeping,” she murmured. “…following the instructions. Anybody can do it."
"I can’t,” he argued. “Sho’ I can draw a bit, but - I ain’t got no patience to try a flip-book, let alone script, draw and animate no flashtoon. I can’t make no *zombies*… no scale models o’ Bayville fo’ no monster flick… You got mo’ in there–” he tapped his head, “–than I do. I know it. I *seen* it."
Sara started shaking from her toes to her head. It rose over her like a tide. Her head started tic'ing 'no’ and her limbs rose of their own voluition to ward off some ghost attacker. All her boxes were trembling… giving way…
And some fuzzy blanket descended on her mind, wrapping her in comfort and a haze of pleasant feelings. The outside world and its stresses were oddly distant.
"HEY!"
"Please remain calm, Mr Tolensky… I *had* to do this."
"What are you *DOING* to her?"
"Do you recall… Sara mentioning a Grand Mal type episode? It’s nearly happened again."
”…shit…“
"She’s dangerously close to a nervous breakdown, Todd. She has to vent her -ah- boxed feelings gradually over a long time in order to heal safely. Any direct breach at this stage… could hurt her."
Strange, that she didn’t feel anything on hearing this.
"Can yo’ help her?"
"Not tonight… and definitely not by force. I can only place a stopgap measure, for now. I can’t truly begin until she’s adjusted to her physical change. That alone is trauma enough."
_I’m traumatized… anaesthetized… pretty close to phillosophized…_ part of her mind sung. Damn. She needed a harp. _And I just now realized… things ain’t exaclty harmonised… in my psychological paradise._
"Sara… come back to us."
The blanket lifted from her head. "Are you quite certain there’s nothing remotely Psycorps[1] about this operation?” she said.
“I had to help,” he said. “You were at risk of hurting yourself."
"I suppose I need quite a few years of therapy, hm?"
"You wouldn’t be the first of my students to do so,” Xavier’s smile was warm and relaxing. “If you’d like to play a harp to blow off steam, I believe there’s one in the music room. May I show you?"
"A real, orchestral harp?” Her fingers twitched. “Can I meet her?"
"Of course,” he said. “I’d love to hear you play."
Sara finished her tea. "Then by all means, lead on."
The music room was dominated by a grand piano, beautifully maintained. The harp, however, was lurking in a neglected corner by a potted aspidestra. She was the first Roccoco[2] harp she’d ever seen. Sara laid her hands on the strings. "Untouched since she was bought here,” she murmured. “The strings were slackened, thank goodness, but she’s been kept cold…” Sara tsked. “Some sunshine for you, my dear.” Without thinking, Sara moved the harp into the afternoon sun, found a seat, and tightened her strings by feel. A quick strum helped her ensure they were in tune.
She sang *wonderfully*.
+
Todd watched as her face moved into a calm that was warm, rather than eerie blankness that scared him, before.
“Let’s make our introductions,” whispered Sara. Then she started to *Play*.
All Todd knew was that it was something by Mozart. Something cyclical and intricate and her fingers never missed a note. She was *amazing*. Her face had taken on an inner glow. _Wow,_ he thought. _This must be what she looks like when she’s naturally asleep._
The first number finished, Sara played a chaotically fast piece that was over in a few seconds.
“Twenty-four seconds,” said Sara. “I *must* be stressed."
"And quite understandably so,” said Xavier.
[1] Babylon 5 “The Corps is Mother, the Corps is Father…” and, of course, Bester the bastid.
[2] An era rather famous for putting decoration wherever possible… and in some cases, where it wasn’t posible.
~
Todd started with the realisation that her music had curled him into a position of relaxation achieved only when vegged out or unconscious. The toes of his sneakers were off the floor and resting on the edge of the piano bench he perched on, wrists comfortably across each other on the smooth polished surface as he leaned forward.
Self-consciously, he straightened, planting his feet on the floor as if it made him appear more solid. “That was beyond beautiful, snookums.” He noted how the scars on her arm, though hard to see for all the scales, matched with the direction of the strings. Ah, so the harps were responsible. Always good to be paranoid and double-check.
Sara was letting her fingers rest from their effort. Todd’s body ached selfishly for her to continue; even if it was to reach up and pluck random strings. People were their truest selves when they were creating. He wanted to see her glow again.
Todd kept his request trapped neatly between the folds of his tongue. She was hurting, falling apart on the inside, stressed from the effects of… hell, everything. Maybe she should lie down? Was it just his imagination or were the scales on her face turning a little grey?
“You need to lie down or somethin?” he asked, walking over to her. Her scales shifted in the light to a healthier colour and he was left feeling overprotective and fussy. Her nervous smile gave him the suspicion that even her colors were being used as a mask to lessen his concern.
“Don’t worry, dear, I’m just unwinding. This is good for me right now.” Her hand absently plucked out a tune from Enya. She could play by ear, not just by memorization - as if the spirited display beforehand had not proven that. There had been nothing mechanical or parrotlike about the way her fingers had moved across those strings. It was as if she’d been rewriting the music in her head as she played it.
~