If I owned X-men, or any of its trademarks, I would be too busy bragging about it to write fanfic.

The darkness was sometimes overbearing, but he'd learned to live with it. He could hear people shuffling about around him, people he'd never laid eyes on and yet could easily distinguish the sounds of their footsteps, their whispers. Each one was unique.

In the beginning, he'd stumbled around, tripping over everything. After a time, they set him an aid, making him feel like an old man who needed constant care. It was only recently that he'd figured out how to eat without someone guiding his fork back down to the plate, and before that he'd been spilling food all over himself. He'd reached a point where he didn't want to get up unless it was absolutely necessary. He simply stayed here, by the open window, feeling the breeze play across his face. It was a comforting sensation, be cause he knew that he wouldn't be able to see it even if he did open his eyes.

It had been like this since the crash, the accident that had killed his parents. Only Scott and Alex Summers had survived it, and even then, it was only thanks to the sudden manifestation of Scott's mutation. A mutation that now seemed to be more of a curse than a gift. The orphanage had found Alex a family, and Scott hoped to god his brother was happy, but... not a lot of people were willing to take in a teenager, blinded as he was by his mutant ability.

'Scott, there's someone here to see you.' The voice was that of Rachel, one of the volunteers. Scott turned towards it, fighting the constant urge to open his eyes and see what was going on. The last thing he wanted was to turn this place into a pile of rubble.

'Me?' What she'd said had finally taken hold in his mind, he just couldn't believe it. Why would anybody want to see him? A fleeting fear at the back of his mind wondered if maybe, just maybe it was the government, come to run experiments on him or, on a note of foolish hope, cure him.

There was the almost inaudible squeak of metal gears as something wheeled its way closer to him. Anyone else might not have noticed, but when you've spent innumerable months in the dark, you pick up the silent noises. 'Hello, Scott, my name is Charles Xavier.' There was a pause, as though that name was expected to mean something to the blind youth. 'I run a school, for children such as yourself, with special gifts.'

'A... a school?'

He could sense the nod that followed. 'Yes, and if you're willing, I'd like to take you back with me. Perhaps we might even find a way for you to see again.'

Part of him was cautious, and it warned Scott against the possibilities of deceit, of a trick set up to get him away from the safety of the orphanage without too much trouble. But this Xavier... he seemed so honest, so open. Slowly, he nodded. 'Anything is better than this- no offence, Rachel.' She giggled but didn't say anything. That was just the way she was sometimes. It reminded Scott of his mother.

X

Two weeks later, Scott began to regret his decision. It was colder here, and in the room he'd been assigned to as the upper stories were being built had no window. Everyday, he would go down to a lab where the professor would try various forms of glass and other compounds that could, possibly, control his 'optic blasts', as Xavier called them.

And this morning was just like any other. He felt around for the soap as he stood in front of the bathroom mirror, washed his hands and face, then slowly guided himself out of the room, into the hall, down the 17 steps and into the lab. Something was different. Someone else was there, too, speaking in what sounded like painful whispers with the professor. 'Is everything alright?' He asked.

'Scott, have a seat. I'll be with you in a moment.' The youth nodded and did as he was asked. 'Jean, you need to concentrate.'

'I... I can't, there's too much noise...!'

Scott listened intently to the room, but couldn't hear anything aside from the constant drone of the furnace and some various hums from the lab equipment.

'Alright, I may be able to help you, but eventually, you'll have to learn to do this on your own, okay?' Scott couldn't see it, but he knew she was nodding. There were a few moments of silence, then... 'There, better?'

'Um, yes, much.' The girl replied.

'Excellent.' He paused. 'Jean, come over here for a moment, I'd like you to meet one of my other students, Scott Summers. Scott, this is Jean Gray, she arrived this morning.'

Scott held out his hand, and felt her take hold of it. Her skin was soft, manicured, and her grip was fragile and slightly timid. 'Nice to meet you, Jean.' It was another moment before she let go.

'Every time Scott opens his eyes, powerful beams of energy blast through anything he might happen to glance at. I've been trying to find a way to control this, but have so far been unsuccessful.'

'Is there anything I can do?' That was the moment Scott developed his school-boy crush.

'As a matter of fact, if you could fetch the array of glass sheets over in the corner...'

There was the sound of hurried footsteps as Jean rushed away. 'I've made up a variety of new combinations, and I have a few more natural glasses, too. With luck, one of them will be what we're looking for.' Xavier said, just as Jean returned. Scott instinctively looked up at the ceiling, which the professor had assured him was too strong even for him to damage, and waited for the first glass plate to be put over his eyes before he opened them.

The plate shattered, just as so many had done before. So did the next one, and the next. 'Alright, you two should head up to the cafeteria for lunch. By the time you get back, Scott, the next batch will be ready.