Please R/R! I'm publishing as I write the chapters, but they're always open for me to edit and adjust. No need to be rude, but constructive criticism is welcome! I know some people tend to hate OC pairings, but I also know some people love them. Also no need to forcefully tell me which one you are..
"You're not even a real mutant."
Sabine blinked her luminous dark eyes a few times, hurt crossing over her delicate features. She looked to the others, Rogue, Kitty, Bobby, anybody to help her, but they just looked around and said nothing. The classroom was empty; Logan, the disgruntled and reluctant new professor for self-defense, had left the classroom before the class time had entirely ended.
The students had all reacted differently to the loss of their old and favorite professor. Some had turned their hurt inside and others, like James, began to lash at those around them. Sabine tried to remind herself of that as she felt anger rising with her pain.
"I am so," she argued weakly, her slender hands shaking. "P-Professor Xavier warned me not to use my powers, is all." Even to herself she sounded pathetic. Her voice trembled, as if she didn't believe herself.
"Right," laughed the boy, his conceited grin plastered over his stupid face. "You, dangerous. That's a laugh. What's your codename again? Spirit? You gonna haunt me?"
The others laughed, some reluctantly, some with genuine humor. Sabine's eyes seared with wetness against her will. She swore at herself, silently, and ran from them.
"Sabine?" called Storm, the new Headmaster, as the girl ran by her. But Sabine didn't stop; Storm was kind and intelligent, but she couldn't trust this new woman who ran Professor Xavier's school.
She closed the door, locked it, and curled onto her bed.
Why did he have to go and die on her?
Professor Charles Xavier had understood her like no one else. He had found her wandering the streets of Washington, completely alone with nothing to her name. Her name, Sabine York, that didn't even exist. He had sat down with her in a run-down coffee shop and bought her a sandwich as she cried on this strange man's shoulder.
But, in the same night, he told her why she couldn't use her powers anymore. He told her why she could never use them again, why they had lost her everything in the moment she had it all.
She sighed. She didn't used to be this kind of a mess, but he had been everything for her. He had been her rescuer, her mentor, and her confidant when she needed one. She was strong enough without him now, ready to leave his school in her last year, but everything seemed pointless without him. At twenty years old she was reduced to a shaky disaster again.
She couldn't face the combined spite and pity of her own classmates as they learned how to control their powers and she learned nothing. Professor Xavier had been the only one who could teach her safely.
She pulled her coat on, but didn't pack her bags. She didn't want to alert the staff that she was leaving, not when she planned on coming back. She just needed some time on her own.
Clouds smoldered over the school, and Sabine stuffed her hands stubbornly into her rain jacket. She didn't care about getting wet. She even threw back her hood in the cold air, as if to challenge the rumbling sky.
Rogue had once been Sabine's friend. They used to play pranks on the boys, to go out to cafes on the weekends together. But after Professor Xavier's death, Sabine found herself unable to talk with any of them. Storm had her files, and surely had seen them, but there was no intimacy in that. Professor Xavier had felt her joys and pains, and she had trusted him highly in her secret.
Now nobody mattered to her. Her friends couldn't understand, and if they knew they would surely resent her. Sabine's face streaked with tears as she walked slowly towards the park. Fat droplets of rain whizzed through the sky, soaking her dark hair. She carefully tugged the white hood of her jacket up again.
"What do I do?" she whispered hoarsely to the dark sky. A roll of thunder was the only response, and she released a shuddering sigh.
The park was empty. Swings hung silent in the spattering drops, and no bikers ventured through the street. The only company she had was the occasional passing car, and it was unfortunate company indeed; she got a nasty splash whenever one passed too close to her.
But, in the distance, someone sat alone. She could tell from his silver-white hair and his hunched back that he was very aged. He sat alone in the downpour.
She knew he could not be Professor Xavier. He moved his legs once in a while, and his head was rather thickly haired. But something about the way he sat, alone in the evening, despite the rain, made her feel as though he was waiting for her.
She walked towards the stranger. Sabine's pace quickened, and then faltered as she approached him. Would he think her odd, just walking up to him like this? But, then again, he was sitting alone in the rain. Surely he couldn't despise her company.
She walked politely up to the chair, where she saw now that he faced a chessboard. Walking around the board to the other side, she pointed to his opposite chair.
"May I sit?"
His eyes were cold as they surveyed her. Nothing about his presence was very inviting, but he inclined his head, almost against his will.
She pulled out the chair, and watched as he moved the chess pieces back slowly. Catching on, she pushed a white pawn forward, only once. He smiled.
"Not on the attack, eh?" he said quietly, his accent strange to her. He skipped a knight over the line of pawns, and waited for her.
"Not without some defense, no," she replied, moving another pawn forward once.
"The best defense is a strong offense," he recited boredly. He pushed a pawn forward two squares. "What's your name, girl?"
"Sabine York, and I'm not a girl. I'm older than I look." She frowned irritably as she skipped a knight up. "What's your name, old, weird man?"
He laughed at that, for the first time. "It's Erik Lehnsherr. My apologies, weird young lady." He slid a pawn out, poised cleverly close to her knight; just enough to threaten her to move him back.
"I'm not weird, Mr. Lehnsherr. You're the one sitting by yourself in the rain." She ignored the threat and moved her queen forward to back up the knight.
"I can't argue that," he admitted, taking the knight anyways. She sighed and took his pawn. "Tell me, where are you from?"
"I…I'm from Washington," she lied only a little. Washington had never been her home, but she had been born there and had lived there for part of her life. "I'm here for school."
His eyes grew very focused then. She was shocked at the intensity of his gaze all of a sudden. But then it died, and he took her queen with an unsuspecting, distant bishop. Sabine muttered a curse and took his other bishop with little satisfaction.
"Where do you go to school?" he asked her, very casually. She gaped a few times, unable to remember the names of any schools nearby, and abashedly shut her mouth. She was silent as he scooted out a castle.
She was still silent, as she defended her pawns with her own castles. The only sound for a long time was the sad falling of the raindrops.
Sabine battled long and hard, trying to force her pawns across the board to recover her queen, but to no avail. The old man took them down with the ease of a master player, trapping her again and again. Finally, she lost her king in an inglorious, shameful defeat, his castles and knights claiming the chessboard.
Sighing, she blinked in the now heavily pouring rain. Something about the rain felt so cleansing; or perhaps it was playing chess with a lonely old man.
"Thanks, mister," she said quietly, standing. They hadn't spoken much, and she learned nothing about this man, and he nothing of her, and yet she felt a little better. He hadn't judged or teased or feared her, and that made a lot of difference. He didn't thank her back, but he nodded and smiled a little bit.
She walked back towards the school, her hands in her pockets again. It had to be close to midnight, but she wasn't in a rush.
James seemed apologetic when he saw her at breakfast. It seemed that Marie, Rogue, had confronted him afterwards, because the girl had approached her again despite her distanced behavior and put an arm around her shoulders before class.
Everything was alright again, but something was still missing.
After Economics with Professor Storm, Sabine picked up her books and tucked them into her bag, among a few other things. She waved goodbye to Marie and Bobby and started towards the park again. She didn't know why, but this old man shared some trait with her lost friend, and she wanted to feel that connection again.
There he was again, at the very same chess table. His hand hovered above it, as though he was poised over a ruthless attack. Several old men sat playing around him, but none seemed to show interest in him. Sabine adjusted the strap on her shoulder and pressed onward. At the sound of her insistent galoshes, his head turned slightly, but he did not acknowledge her until she stood across from him. Only then did he look up at her, his expression wary.
"Play me again," she demanded, pulling out the chair. A small smile crossed his wrinkled features, but he did not move.
"Not very polite today, I see," he pointed out, raising his eyebrows. She shrugged and reached into her bag for her offering.
"I brought you a muffin. Play me." She tossed a fresh blueberry muffin across the table to him. He caught it carefully and set it beside the chessboard. Pulling a corn muffin out for herself, she pushed a white pawn forward again, two paces today.
"Someone is feeling bold," he chuckled, finally moving forward to reset his own pieces. "I accept your muffin for now. But you'll have to do better than that next time." He mirrored her pawn with his own.
"Where are you from?" she asked him, trying to piece together a strategy while keeping an eye on his tricky bishops. "I can't recognize your accent."
"Germany, but I speak many languages," he told her. He studied the pieces carefully. "German, French, Spanish, Russian, Japanese, Thai, a little Chinese and Korean and less Arabic. That's probably why you can't place the accent."
"Probably," allowed Sabine, trying to hide her awe. She could speak a little Russian, due to her old Russian grandmother, but very little if at all. She remembered her hatred for Spanish classes in primary schools and wished that she had paid more attention.
"Now, why do you appear to be following me?" he returned, rather bluntly in her opinion. She knocked down his bishop a little more bitterly than she had intended.
"It's not exactly following when you sit in the same place," she muttered, but it was only fair for him to ask, she supposed. "I just…I like playing chess with you." It wasn't a total lie; she hated being beaten so easily by him, and wanted to redeem herself. But the way his green-grey eyes focused on her told her that he knew she wasn't being entirely honest.
"You remind me of somebody," she admitted, shrugging a little. "Somebody I miss."
"Do I now?" he mused, staring intently at her. "And who might that be? Your grandfather, perhaps?" Sabine couldn't help but laugh.
"If my grandfather had been as scary as you, Mr. Lehnsherr, I'd never have visited him!" she giggled, pointing at the board. "It's your turn."
He examined the board for only a moment before moving a pawn forward to be sacrificed. Sabine was forced to accept the bait, before he could take down her queen again. As a result, she mourned the loss of her faithful castle.
"So, what was this man like? The one I remind you of?" he asked her pleasantly, still smug about his trap. Sabine scowled and began to set up one of her own. She had to sacrifice two pawns, but it was worth it; she finally took down his second precious bishop.
"Not very like you at all, I'm afraid to say," she sighed when her victory was swept from beneath her; she lost a castle due to careless planning. "Gentle, understanding, kind…"
"Your flattery is embarrassing me," he said dryly, catching one of her runaway pawns. She laughed a little, and managed to get one across by distracting him with walking pairs.
"You're both very tolerant, though," she sighed, recovering her castle. "And you seem wise, he was like that too. Smartest man I ever met."
"We're both old as cavemen," he guessed for her, but she shook her head.
"No, he died a while ago. Not so old anymore." The edges of her lips quivered, and he looked instantly apologetic.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, sitting forward a little. It didn't stop him from reclaiming her castle, but she smiled anyways. "It happens to the best of us, I'm afraid." The way he phrased that made her think about things Professor Xavier told her she should never consider, but she couldn't help it. Her secret burned her alive.
"Mr. Lehnsherr," she whispered, leaning forward. His face was very kind, very understanding. She was sure he would not reject her as others had before. "Can…can I ask you something?" A light shone deep in his eyes, though nothing in his expression had changed.
"Of course, my dear," he assured her quietly, folding his hands in front of him. She tried to gather her courage, but found it to have left her.
"Do you believe in fate?"
He stared at her for a long moment. "You choose very broad and debatable topic. I believe in fate. I believe fate is propelled by human choice, by trial and error. Checkmate, my dear."