Title : Blue
Series: Beginnings
Author: Sarita
E-Mail: sarita.riley@btinternet.comRating : PG12
Disclaimers : They are not mine, I wish they were. Copyright belongs to Marvel Fox and others.
Notes: This is number 6 in my 'beginnings' series about Scott's early days at the school. You can read parts 1-5 at: www.oocities.org/mutieuk (Red Expressions) or the list archive.
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Fine grainy sand and rubble continued to flow relentlessly, choking him, filling his nose and mouth. Heat and oppressive darkness surrounded him, broken only by the occasional cry and whimper of those similarly trapped. Each cry was like a spike being driven through his chest, the guilt and sympathy he felt more acute than any physical pain or discomforts he suffered and there was plenty of that. The heavy masonry pinned him to the floor, grinding at his bones and tearing at soft flesh with every slight movement, every flinch. He felt as well as heard the muffled crack from above and began to panic as the flow of rubble intensified. He knew what was coming and terror took hold. He began to frenziedly twist and strain at the concrete and steel that imprisoned him. He tried to reach for his glasses, his only hope now was the red energy that had wrought this destruction, but found his arms pinned. The last muffled groan of the ceiling heralded its final collapse, rocks falling to smash the few survivors of the carnage. Time seemed to stall, the ceiling falling with an impossible slow and eerie grace and he had a fleeting moment to taste the bitter irony. Where was the destructive force he carried within when it might save lives instead of take them? Then there was only pain and suffocating darkness.
Scott screamed wildly as he tore at the cloth tangled about his face, finally dislodging himself from the sweat drenched bedding and surging unsteadily to his feet. He tripped as the sheets tangled about his ankles, hissing in pain as his knees slammed into the parquet flooring and his wrist twisted painfully as he instinctively thrust his arm out to stop his fall. With the pain, real pain not imagined, came relief. Another dream. Just like the night before and the night before that. Scott sucked cold air into his lungs in gasps as he tried desperately to calm down. He didn't want to rouse the Professor yet again. That would lead to questions and more sympathetic looks. Sympathy was something he just couldn't handle right now. And it was something he didn't feel he deserved. It had been nearly two weeks since the accident and yet the dreams only got worse. His hand automatically went to his eyes, hesitating as they brushed the damp tape. He hated this but he no longer trusted willpower, glasses or visor at night. Not anymore. Dragging himself to his feet and cradling his sore wrist, he shuffled out onto the balcony and curled up with his back to the mansion wall letting the cold night air calm him down and keep him awake. He couldn't go back to sleep. He couldn't face anymore of the dreams.
Professor Charles Xavier put his knife down carefully and looked across the breakfast tray to where Henry 'Hank' McCoy paced restlessly back and forth in his study.
"He still hasn't come down for breakfast?"
Hank stopped pacing and quirked an eyebrow at Charles over the rim of his wire spectacles. He grunted, then " He appeared long enough for me to strap up a wrist he twisted, refused to meet my eye or speak to me and then disappeared as quickly as he came. He is still avoiding us, Charles."
Charles idly pushed his toast from one side of the plate to another and then replaced his linen napkin on the tray and folded his hands carefully in his lap. "I'm not sure how to handle this. I may be a telepath but that does not make me an expert in psychology. I think we allowed ourselves to be lulled by his surprisingly positive response following the circumstances of his arrival here. He handled that so well, dealt so well with his depression and I allowed myself to believe that he had healed completely. This one accident could destroy him if he allows it to. I cannot permit that and yet I do not know what I can do to prevent it."
"I take it he's still having the nightmares?"
Charles sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "They grow worse each night. I don't think the boy has had a full nights sleep in nearly two weeks. His subconscious is taking a very real fear and his guilt and multiplying it. It doesn't matter that in the real event no one was seriously injured. In his mind he kills and every dream is worse than the one before it. I'm worried about him, hank."
"He's stopped using the visor too," Hank added, his face creasing in concern. "He wears it because it feels more secure, more bulky than his glasses but he won't use his power. He's scared. The problem with that is the energy is building and it is going to become increasingly painful for him. He has to learn to use that power in a controlled manner or everything we are working for will be destroyed."
Charles nodded wordlessly as Hank slipped out of the office. He had grown so close to the young man, they both had, but Hank was taking this latest setback particularly badly. He too felt guilty about the accident happening. Hank had decided to go to New York to speak direct with an equipment company with whom they were having supply difficulties. The medical equipment they had ordered was long overdue and essential to Hanks' work. Scott had talked them both into being allowed to tag along, pleading a need to see new surroundings for a change. Once they'd got there Hank had been reluctantly persuaded to let Scott do some 'sightseeing' while he attended his meeting. Having exacted a firm promise to meet for dinner before heading back to Westchester Hank had thought no more of Scott's intentions. That Scott had been less than honest in the sights he intended on seeing had never even occurred to them.
Charles knew full well that Scott had started hustling the local boys at pool. It had all been very light-hearted and he'd been putting the money to use on his bike. He hadn't taken it too far and had even undertaken some manual odd jobs to supplement that income. When or where Scott had gotten the idea of trying the same hustle for higher stakes in New York escaped him. The boy had a natural talent for sheilding his thoughts and Charles had always made a point of respecting that. This time it had ended badly for them all. Scott had been spectacularly successful but he hadn't taken into account the type of people he'd been dealing with. People that didn't take loosing kindly and looked for any reason to get their money back. Scott's ability with a pool cue, the fact he never lost a game had been enough for them to come up with an excuse for why they had been so soundly beaten. A justification for getting their money back. It was becoming a public mantra that whenever something bad happened there was a mutant behind it. The logic was simple and didn't need any truth to support it as far as they were concerned. He had to be a mutant. Ironically they hadn't even queried his glasses.
They'd waited until he got as far as the small subway station. Scott hadn't even noticed them following him, intent as he was in making it the single stop to the station where he'd agreed to meet Hank. With only two other people on the platform they'd surrounded him and the fight had begun. A fight in which Scott had gotten careless, forgotten the restraints of his glasses, and ended up flat on his back with the fragile lenses destroyed. An uncontrolled blast shattered several support pillars and a small section of the roof had caved in derailing the oncoming train. His attackers had fled in terror. Scott's own terror had alerted the Professor who relayed events to Hank in order that he arrived within moments, having used the rooftops and his astonishing agility to travel the distance between the station where he waited and Scott beating the emergency services to the scene. No one had been killed. The worse injuries had been a broken leg and a concussion, the latter being the driver of the train that had de-railed. Hank had managed to get a sobbing, terrified Scott back to their car and home where he had become almost catatonic for several days. When he'd finally woken to himself he'd become sullen and withdrawn and had taken great steps to avoid any and all human contact. Charles shook his head slowly and let his mind drift, trying to locate the young man. Having found what he searched for he resolved to intervene. They had given Scott space and it had not worked. More direct intervention was required.
The crunch of wheels on the gravel path jolted Scott's mind back to the here and now. He skimmed another pebble out on to the lake surface, watching as it bounced skipping up glittering droplets of water that flashed in the sun before sinking out of sight.
"I will not leave you alone this time Scott. Ignoring me is not an option."
Scott's head twitched in the Professors direction before he returned to staring out at the lake. He skimmed another stone out along it's surface before sinking down to sit in the grass at the water's edge. "I screwed up." It was barely a whisper and Charles had to strain to catch it. The boy's shoulders were hunched over as if in pain. He considered the statement and nodded slowly.
"You made a mistake, certainly, and you recognise that. I do not believe that mistake to be of the magnitude you have taken upon yourself."
Scott interrupted, his voice harsh and bitter. "You don't get it. I screwed up and people got hurt. It will happen again. I screw everything up eventually and it's always someone else that pays for it." He choked off as tears threatened to emerge. He'd be damned if he was going to cry now.
Charles wheeled closer to the boy until his knee brushed against Scott's back. He could feel the yearning within the boy to be comforted but at the same time knew that Scott would never initiate that contact. "No one was seriously hurt Scott. I'm not suggesting that you absolve yourself of all blame for what happened. We learn from our mistakes and hopefully they make us better people. The tragedy only occurs if we do not learn those lessons, if we go on hurting people because we do not care to do otherwise. You care. What you need is to develop responsibility of a different kind, Scott. You need to learn to control your abilities and that will only come through use. The accident happened because you were irresponsible in the position you put yourself in, not through irresponsible use of your power."
"I let myself believe I could be normal, let myself believe I could live with other people." The tears were flowing now, his shoulders shaking with silent sobbing.
"You have a gift Scott. You are no different than I and I will not absent myself from the Human race."
"You don't kill people!"
Charles snorted. "When I was younger Scott I very nearly did. I chose to let anger and aggression rule my actions and a man almost died because I used my gift to 'get my own back' on him. I have had to learn to control my thoughts and to be responsible around others. That is the lesson you need to learn. I told you when you first came here that only you could choose how to approach your future. The same holds true now. You can continue to castigate yourself but who does that serve? "
Scott shook his head slowly. He seemed to want to say something but could put whatever he was thinking into words. Taking a calculated risk Charles gently laid a hand on Scott's shoulder. He was surprised when Scott leant back against his knee instead of flinching away as he'd half expected. Charles stroked the hair back from Scott's forehead and they sat in silence looking out over the waters of the lake.
The moment was broken by a sound so unexpected, so alien in the context of the idyllic lakeshore that for a heartbeat neither reacted. The shriek of the alarm could be heard even at the lakeshore and was followed by a cry for help that only Charles could hear.
"What?" Scott never had a chance to fully form the question. Charles was already moving toward the mansion.
"Scott, hurry, Henry needs our help."
Scott was startled by the urgency in that tone. He had never seen or heard the Professor visibly concerned by anything. In fact mild irritation was about as frantic as he usually got. He hurried to the Professor's side, confused and worried by this turn of events.
"What is that noise?" he finally blurted out as they rushed through the arboretum.
"There's been an accident in the lab. That is the fire alarm. We must hurry, Henry is trapped in the lab."
"Why didn't you say so earlier," Scott yelled, "I could have run ahead and phone the fire in. " He turned to run for the lobby phone but was stopped by a very firm mental command. He stared , stunned . The Professor never directed someone that way.
"There's no time for the phone, Scott." He pulled the teenager into the lift beside him. "They'll never get here in time to help Henry. We have only minutes before the fire gets too hot for the sprinkler system in the lab. We have to free Henry before then."
As the door slid open spilling them onto the underground levels Scott had to hurry to keep up with Charles. "Before the fire gets to him ?" Scott asked urgently.
"No, before our secondary fire system kicks in. The lab will be flooded with Argon if the fire reaches a certain temperature and Henry will suffocate. It was designed so that we'd never need outside officials if the underground areas were prejudiced."
Charles overrode the fire door to the lab and it slid aside with a hiss. Scott staggered back as the wave of heat hit him. The professor hunched over in his chair, his hand raised to shield his eyes from the heat. The fire burned at the far end of the lab. Hank lay trapped by fallen equipment just outside the door to his inner office. The large flatbed scanner that normally took up an entire wall lay across him, pinned in place by a titanium girder that had been shaken loose from the ceiling.
*Henry! * Charles mental probe of his friend was encouraging, he was conscious and in one piece at least. * We must get you out of there. * He frowned in concentration as he picked up on Hanks response. The girder prevented any movement and had been fused in place at one end where it was engulfed in flames. The entire length was more than even Hanks' remarkable strength could move. Before Charles could move a muscle Scott has shoved past him, vaulted an overturned lab table and slithered to his knees beside Hank.
"Scott!"
The young man turned his head back in his direction, flickering fire light reflected back off the ruby quartz of his visor. "We have to get him out of here, you said so yourself. Can't you, I dunno , move stuff with you mind. I read about that somewhere." His voice choked off as water and smoke swirled around him, the sprinklers keeping up their vain attempt to contain the fire at the other end of the lab.
*Telekinesis and telepathy are two different things, Scott. I cannot do anything. I cannot even prevent the argon purge. The computer safety controls will not allow it. Try to help Henry move the girder, he cannot do it alone but perhaps you can help. *
Charles watched helplessly as the young man strained uselessly against the girder.
"It's too heavy!" Scott kicked viciously at the metal until Hanks arm rose to pull him down beside him.
"Scott, stop. Breaking all your toes will not assist. The girder is too heavy even for me. In it's current state that is. If it were of smaller dimension I believe we could move it." Hanks' voice had a calming effect on Scott and he nodded vigorously.
"Right, we need a welding torch or something to burn through it."
He was interrupted by a high pitched whine and an insanely pleasant female voice. " Fire suppression system activated. Please evacuate the area. Repeat, fire suppression system activated, please evacuate the area."
"Remind me to reprogram that computer," Hank snorted. "Scott we do not have time for any such action. Only you can do this now. You must use your gift and sever the girder as close to me as possible."
Scott staggered back, his head shaking wildly. "No," he choked, "I can't."
"Then you must leave now, Scott. There is no time for anything else and I do not want you injured because of my stupidity." Hanks voice was gentle, and over the squeal of the alarm Scott had to strain to hear it.
"I'll hurt you, I always hurt someone." Scott staggered as a new wave of heat shook him and he took half a step toward the door as the alarm went up yet another pitch. With a scream of anger, frustration and adrenaline he slid back to his knees beside Hank.
"I won't leave you," he whispered. "I can't leave you."
With a deep breath he focused on the girder, his fingers drifting uncertainly toward the trigger control on the visor's earpiece. In a second he heard the constant drills he had received from the Professor and Hank in the courtyard garden all rolled together. Banishing further thought he triggered the aperture and a tight, narrow beam of controlled energy shattered the girder barely a foot from Hanks chest. Together they heaved and strained, shifting the remaining piece aside along with the shattered scanner. Scott yanked on Hanks' arm, dragging him stumbling toward the entrance where the Professor waited anxiously. The door was already closing as they slid through it.
Scott drifted away from Hank and Charles as they talked animatedly about what had happened. Hank had not escaped his ordeal without some injury but appeared too excited to notice his dishevelled state right now. Charles actually looked angry and worried all at once. Scott noticed all of this in a kind of detached haze right before he started violently shaking. He looked stupidly down at his legs and then decided that sitting might be a good idea about then. His legs complied with that thought without any convincing. He sat with his back to the wall in the corridor, shaking and trying to shut out the noise around him.
Hank was mid explanation when Charles suddenly whipped his chair around to regard Scott. The boy was a sickly pale colour and looked like he was in some form of shock, tremors shaking his body where he sat against the wall. Without another word he wheeled to where Scott sat and put both hands on his shoulders.
"Thank you," he said simply.
Scott stared up at him incredulous. "What?"
"He said thank you and may I reiterate that sentiment." Hank crouched down beside him. "Without your assistance I would not be here to make your life miserable with intolerably difficult homework come fall." Hank ruffled Scott's hair and chuckled at the fierce glare he received in return. Not even the visor could mask certain teenage responses. "I was engaged in a rather stupid experiment. Sometimes I get carried away with my own insufferable ego. Had you not overcome your own difficulties with the use of your gift, my own could very well have endangered us all."
"I don't get it," Scott whispered staring at them.
"It's what I was trying to explain to you at the lake Scott. It's not your gift that is dangerous, it's what you do with it. Accidents do happen which is why we must always be on our guard. They can not always be prevented. Even the oldest and supposedly wisest of us make mistakes. We must endeavour to learn from them and prevent them happening again, but do understand, not using your gift could well be the biggest and most irresponsible mistake of them all."
Scott nodded slowly. "So shit happens either way. Great, nice to know I'm screwed whatever I do." He held up a hand to forestall another lecture. "I know, I know get over it already. I'm not promising anything but I'll think about what you've said. I guess I can be a lot more careful, I guess I have to be."
Charles smiled at the boy. His shaking had lessened considerably. His mind was still far from comfortable with his situation and the accident was still praying on his mind but from this crisis a breakthrough had been made. "We are going to have a lot of work to do clearing up the lab but for now I suspect Lunch would be in order. Perhaps some Ice Cream for desert? After Hank has passed a medical check of course."
Scott looked up at the Professor. "He blew the lab up why do we have to clean it?"
Charles leaned forward and smiled into Scott's upturned visor. "The other thing I was going to talk to you about this morning was your punishment for misleading us with regard you activities in various pool halls over the last few months. I think helping Hank clean up his mistake in the lab will give both of you adequate time to reflect on your responsibilities."
"Oh," Scott muttered in a small voice, "that."
As Scott stood up slowly he turned a quizzical eye to Hank. "Maybe this afternoon you can have a look at this visor for me?"
Hank smiled. "Happy too, though I'm minded to ask what is wrong with it. It certainly worked just fine a moment ago."
Scott shrugged. "Yeah well, there's something wrong with it now, cos you are starting to look like you're turning purple or something and it's getting worse by the second."
Charles turned to Hank and stared in shock. Hank took one look at his face and lifted his hands up, turning them over and over frantically.
"Oh, my stars and garters... I'm turning blue!"
End for now.
The series will continue with some new arrivals at the school.