X-men: How brave men fall

Author: My Deliah

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Marvel characters.

Chapter 1: the beginning

It was really awkward, she felt. The two guys weren't talking very much, and she didn't have anything to say either. There wasn't any tension in the air, but she felt pressed to say something anyway, the silence made her nervous.

The boy called John had taken her to the kitchen where they had found themselves some food. Obviously this wasn't the way you were supposed to get your lunch, but at least they would avoid the crowd in the cafeteria. And it really was beautiful out here.

They were sitting by a picnic-table beside an oak tree on the school grounds. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. The late summer heat made almost all the students walk around in shorts and t-shirts or tops. But not Christine, she wore jeans and a long sleeved blouse. She had never felt comfortable walking around with lesser clothing. There were surprisingly many students here. Her mother had always given her the impression that mutation was a small phenomenon, a disease that only infected a hand-full of people. Now she knew that it was what her mother had always wanted her to believe. As long as Chris was scared, she wouldn't cause her mother any trouble. You might get the impression that Christine resented her mother the most, but that was not the fact. It was her spine-less, miserable excuse of a man, father she hated. Trough all those years he'd let her mother pull the strings, not once had he stood up for her again her crow of a mother.

Someone sat down beside her, a girl with dark-brown hair and eyes like deep wells, deer eyes. She smiled timidly and there was something very profound about her. Though she looked like a normal girl, there was something off about her, something that separated her from the others. Chris smiled back, just to loosen up things a bit, break the ice.

"Hi." Chris tried to sound cheerful, not because she felt she had to, but because she wanted to. Unfortunately she didn't quite make it sound as joyful as she'd hoped. Darn.

"Oh, Christine, this is my girlfriend Rogue." Bobby said. Chris suddenly noticed why she'd reacted to the girls' hair colour. She had snow white streaks framing her forehead. They didn't look natural, but they weren't dyed either. Very odd in a way, but pretty. We sat quiet and now there was an uncomfortable silence. Then Rogue turned to me.

"So Christine, do you have any…" She hesitated and didn't finish the sentence. Maybe she remembered it could be a sensitive topic. Chris thought about it for a while. Ever since she discovered her mutation, Chris had isolated herself from interacting with others, and before that… Let's say that she'd always known she was different from others, not exactly what made her different, but it was always there. But there was someone, a boy watching her from the shadows. She had never spoken to him, he'd always kept his distance, but in a way they had grown up together. Though she never knew his name or even why he was there, she was grateful for his presence and though of him as a friend.

"You mean if I have a boyfriend?" She asked Rogue.

"Oh, I'm sorry I didn't mean to intrude!" The girl began, but Chris waved her off.

"I don't mind, and no I don't have a boyfriend since, you know.. the mutant thing." Bobby and Rogue nodded and made agreeing noises, but she could tell they didn't have a clue on what she meant with "the mutant thing". Of course they didn't understand what she was talking about, they hadn't been there when it happened. They didn't remember the event, a thing so awful it made her spine shiver. And they never would know either, she would make sure of that. John just looked down at the table, playing with his lighter.

She let her mind slip again, remembering how she got here, to Xaviers', in the first place.

-----

"I remember the time I realized I was different"

She stared at the words for a couple of seconds before hitting the 'erase' button on her computer. Different wasn't quite enough to describe her 'condition'. At lest that's what her mother called it, like it was some kind of disease. She knew her mother was ashamed to have given birth to a mutant, and maybe she was afraid. These were unsettled times, and in many ways it was a dangerous place to be if you were… different.

Her eyes wandered and found the mirror standing beside her computer. The blue orbs that pierced her were her eyes, but at the same time unfamiliar, hostile. She'd been forced to wear blue lenses for five whole years now. The bright and plastic looking blue was in many ways a mockery against the soft blue her eyes had been before her 'condition' had become visible. Can you imagine the panic her twelve-years old self had felt when she one day discovered that her eyes were losing their colour? She hid in her room, afraid of how the rest of her family would react if they saw what were happening to her. Maybe they would think that she was turning in to one of "the filth" her mother so often spoke of. If they knew, they wouldn't love her anymore. But of course they found out. She could still remember her mothers scream and their terrified, disgusted faces when they saw it.

They let her stay in their house, but forced her to wear the coloured lenses. Her mother said it was for her own good, that people would treat her bad if she didn't. Somewhere inside her she knew that it was as much for her mother sake as for her own that she wore those damn things. And of course, she had been forced to move to a new school so that no one would notice her radical change in eye colour. Sometimes no and then someone would ask if it really was her real colour and she would have to lie and answer that it was.

Her parents hadn't said it out loud, but she still knew. When she looked them in the eye, she saw no love anymore. She was an entity that had infested their home and their family, without use for anyone or anything.

She was afraid to make any friends. What if they found out? She knew they would just turn on her. Normal people are always afraid of what they cannot understand, what they cannot domesticate. She went through each day feeling nothing but anxiety and paranoia, coming home to an empty house because her brother didn't want to bring his friends home. He'd never said it out loud, but she knew it was because of her. Just like everything else wrong in their life was because of her. She closed her eyes and suppressed the tears. She was tired of crying, sick of the feeling of helplessness. She couldn't change herself, no matter how much she wanted, no matter how hard she tried.

There was nothing else for her to do, than to withdraw into the shelter of her own self. Her mind worked as a different world, a world where she was like everyone else, where she was someone important. She would sit for hours fanaticising about a life away from persecution and eternal fear.

The world was like a minefield; you never knew when the next step would be fatal. And she didn't like it one bit.

It was Saturday morning in the middle of June when her mother awoke her. There was an odd urgency in her voice this morning as she called for her daughter. Something was up, and moving fast. Drowsily she yawned and got up. As she reached the middle of the stairs down into the kitchen she realized they were all sitting there, her mother, father and brother. Their faces were grave, stale expressions and tensed shoulders. They used to treat her like she was a loose cannon, but not like this.

"Christine" her mother said, "This came with the mail this morning."

Her mother held out an invitation card of some sort. Chris took it and stared down at the neat handwriting on the front. It was addressed to her.

"It's an invitation to a boarding school outside of Westchester, New York." As soon as the words had left her mothers lips, she knew what was coming. "We have decided to accept their invitation. You can eat breakfast and then you'll go and pack your things 'cause we're leaving today. It says on the postcard that you can show up at any time so it won't be a problem."

They were sending her away. She guessed that somewhere inside her, she'd known this day would come, but she wasn't ready. Chris felt afraid. This wasn't something they had discussed over for some time, this was something they had decided here and now. The postcard had come this morning, all they had done was to see the moment and grab the opportunity. As soon as they'd left her there, she would be out of their lives. When they would look back at her shrinking figure they would sigh with relief, knowing that she'd taken her problems with her.

She clutched the card as the landscape swept by outside the window in the backseat of the car. She'd read it over and over again. It was a private owned school, founded by a man called Charles Xavier. There was a small picture of the school grounds on the back of the card. It looked nice, even beautiful with grass covered hills and the forest in the distance. The only thing that worried her was the name of the school "Xaviers school for the gifted" She hoped they didn't expect her be gifted. She had no talent, well at lest no specific talent. Chris closed her eyes and felt like crying again.

Her dad dropped her off at the head gate, and didn't help her with her stuff, or even said goodbye. He just waited for her to take her things and close the door. Then he drove off and left her there, alone, frightened and lost. Hoping she looked normal, like no one special, Chris took her bags and began walking up the road. In the distance she could see the big complex that had to be the school. It was huge, magnificent and old looking. She felt her arms tremble as she struggled with the heavy suitcases she'd brought. The trebling was more nervousness than the actual weight of the bags, but he insight brought her no joy.

She threw a glance to the far left and caught eye of a boy, approximately her age, with dirty-blonde hair. He was standing under an oak-tree, casually leaned back against its old body. In his hand he held a lighter that he flicked open, and then shut it, flicked, and then shut it. His eyes were watching Chris intensely.

For a split second, she thought she could see the small flame from his lighter dance in his open palm. Thinking she was probably hallucinating, Chris tore her eyes off the boy and concentrated on getting up to the school.

Chris reached the two massive wooden doors, still worrying about life and pretty much everything that came with it. What would she do once she was inside these doors? It wasn't like there would be a huge welcome-committee waiting inside, eager to tell her what to do, where to go and whom to talk to. Knowing that there wouldn't come solutions raining from the sky anytime soon, she took a deep breath, and pushed the left door open.

There were so many people inside, and not one of them paid her any attention at all. They all seemed so fully engaged in minding their own business. Maybe newcomers were no big news here. Feeling entirely lost and drained of strength and courage, Chris wondered what she was to do. The most logical solution was to simply ask someone, but something held her back. What if that person would look at her with the same fear and disgust that she'd seen in her parents' eyes? Hesitatingly, she looked to the left. There was a large hallway-path outside a beautifully shaped passage. It didn't look like there were any student-rooms in that direction. In front of her was the huge staircase and there were loads of students making their way in that direction. School were finished for today, so they were probably heading for their rooms, she guessed, and decided to follow.

The second floor was as much a labyrinth of hallways and corridors as the previous floor had been. She strayed around for a while, but felt like she was going in circles, and quite frankly she had made no progress at all in finding her room. When she turned around a corner, only to find an empty corridor, she'd had enough. Feeling incredibly small and insignificant, she leaned her back against the wall. There was an impressive headache pounding inside of her skull and she felt completely exhausted. This was all too much to take in at the same.

With a smothered bumping noise, the wall behind her suddenly caved and began sliding apart. Surprised and slightly annoyed over the disturbance she tumbled backwards into what seemed to be an elevator of some sort. Chris hit her head as she crashed to the ground. Tangled in the straps of her backpack and two other bags she fought to get up. Before she had the chance to free herself the elevator doors slid shut. The emblem on the door formed an 'X'

"So it's true," she thought. "X marks the spot" She felt like laughing. She'd been here for about thirty minutes or so, and she was already peeping into places that were obviously not meant for her to find. Chris silently wondered if the other students knew that there were secret elevators in this school. And what was it with the X on the door?

Soundlessly, the elevator stopped and the doors slid open again, revealing long, white corridors everywhere she turned her gaze. Knowing that the right thing to do was to go up with the elevator again, Chris stepped into the corridor and turned right into one of the corridors. Her mind said 'No' but her curiosity drove her forward into the secret underground level of the mansion. There were solid, round doors with huge X's both to her left and her right, two or three in each new corridor. Everything was stale and clinically clean, the chrome colour perfectly matched on the floor, walls and ceiling. It felt hollow, and if she'd felt like an intruder before, it was nothing compared to what she felt like now. This area was defiantly off-limits for students.

She wondered what lied inside the rooms down here, what secrets hid behind the shut doors. On the tip of her toes, Chris hurried to the next door on her left. There were no door handles, but on the left side of the door were some kind of screen, the text "Scan handprint" flashed in small letters. "Woah, what is this place… this is some top-notch security for a school" she thought, and suddenly felt like she needed to get out of here. Turning around to leave the way she came, Chris heard a voice speak behind her.

"Hello there Christine. Have you found anything of interest down here, or are you just lost?"

Christine felt the hair in her neck rise, the muscles in her back and shoulders stiffened. She knew there was no one behind her, there couldn't be. Her eyes had left that exact spot only seconds ago, and there was at least 20 meters to the next door. Despite all of this, she was deadly sure the voice had come from behind her. Slowly, dreading what she might find, Chris turned around and found…

Nothing, nothing at all, there was no one behind her.

"Don't be afraid Christine. My name is Charles Xavier and I founded this school. It came to my attention that you had decided to accept my offer, and that you were currently wandering around in the top-secret underground level of my school." the voice sounded humoured in a way, calm and reassuring, but humorous at the same way.

"Um, I'm really sorry about my intrusion, I was just trying to find my room," she said into thin air. "Where are you?" Chris asked, feeling dumb.

"I am currently located on the third floor, waiting for you Christine. Just as the folder said, this is a school for the gifted. If it weren't for my telepathic abilities, you wouldn't be speaking with me at this moment."

Chris was amazed, awestruck. This was a school for those of her kind, the ones her mom referred to as "filth"? Then she felt her heart sink. If they knew about the nameless malice sleeping inside her, she wouldn't be here. But if he was a psychic, would he knot know already?

"Christine, I want you to go back the way you came and take the elevator upstairs again. You will find Jean Grey waiting for you there. She will help you find the right place and I'll meet you here." the professor interrupted her thoughts. She tipped her head in a nod, and then remembered he couldn't see her and replied

"I will"

Back in the elevator she realised the walls threw her reflection back at her, and she was forced to stare into those plastic, oddly staring eyes that didn't belong to her at all. The only good thing was that she knew where to go, and what to do now. And maybe the fact that someone had recognized her existence added to that small comfort. The elevator ceased moving and the doors opened soundlessly. Outside stood a beautiful but strained looking woman. Her hair was intensely red and shimmering and her eyes held a sparkle of recognition, as if she could actually relate to Christine in a way.

The woman introduced herself as Jean Grey and told Chris to follow her. First they headed for her room, which she wouldn't be sharing with anyone, another comforting thought, and then they went to visit the professor in his study.

Charles Xavier sat by his desk as Jean and Chris entered the room. He was an elder man, but in all ways possible, not an old man. Chris found it hard to decide his age, but she'd guess he was between forty-five and fifty. As he raised his head, she noticed his eyes belonged to someone much older than himself, someone who'd seen and knew much, too much maybe.

"Hello Christine. First I want to tell you how happy I am to welcome you to this school. The second, and also last thing I am going to tell you today is that if you have any questions you are always welcome here to ask them."

This was getting better and better, Chris thought.

-----

There were maybe ten students waiting outside the classroom the following morning. Some of them turned their heads as she joined the small group. Chris turned her head away. She was feeling rather uncomfortable and misplaced. She didn't even know what the subject was, and she had no study-books to bring.

Two of the boys in the group were talking about the proposal for mutant-registration. One of the two of them seemed more upset than the other one. Chris recognized him from the day before. It was the guy with the lighter, the one with the dirty-blonde hair. She stared at the back of his leather jacket for a second reminiscing about she'd thought she'd seen him hold the fire in his palm. If all of the people here were mutants, then maybe she hadn't been hallucinating after all. Then her attention turned to the guys' friend, a tall and kind of handsome boy, somewhere around her age. His features were clean and handsome and his eyes were icy blue. He had kind eyes she thought, and then realized she was staring and turned her head away from the two of them.

A bell rang somewhere and the students waiting outside opened the door and began entering the classroom. Sheepishly she followed close behind. Well inside she picked a seat in the far back so she wouldn't attract any unwanted attention. Though she didn't have to fear what people would think of her if it came out she was a mutant, she didn't feel at home in here. Then she saw the teacher was Jean Grey from the day before, and on the board behind her stood the word "Humanity".

"The goal for today's class is to start a discussion around the topic of mutant powers and how normal people react on them." She began. In her seat, Chris tried to make herself small and inconvenient. She didn't want any questions about what she thought; she had no opinion on the matter. Except she did, but one thing she didn't feel like was to share it with everyone in here.

Jean Grey continued talking about what was called "the mutant problem". On the second row in the front sat the guy with the leather jacket. He obviously didn't think this was an interesting lesson, since her was very occupied with playing with his Zippo-lighter. Then the small flame jumped from the lighter into his hand and grew into a fireball. On his right, his friend acknowledged the fireball by touching it, instantly turning it into solid ice and it crashed to the floor with a cracking noise.

"John!" Jean said sharply.

"Sorry," the guy replied before throwing his friend an icy gaze. Chris felt her lip slightly curl and held back the small giggling that rose inside her.

Suddenly she realized everyone was looking at her. She flinched in her chair and wondered if she had in fact giggled out loud. As she met the teachers eyes she felt relieved. She hadn't giggled, Jean had asked her a question. Then the stone fell to her guts. Teacher, question, everyone was staring at her… darn. Shyly she asked if the professor would mind repeating the question.

"I asked you what your powers are Christine."

Chris felt her eyes widen and her hands tremble. Did she have to ask That question?

"I'm asking you in a purely hypothetical purpose." Jean said. Chris just shook her head and replied in a terrified voice.

"I don't have any powers"

"Of course you have Christine, you are a mutant. All mutants have abilities."

"No, it's not true, I don't, I really don't!" She exclaimed, feeling the panic enclose her, shutting out all sense of reason. She felt her hands shake and the world began to sway slowly.

"Christine, are you okay?" Jean sounded worried. She wasn't okay, not at all. What were they all expecting from her? Didn't they understand, she couldn't talk about it, it wasn't real, nothing but a nightmare. She didn't have any power or ability, Christine was plain.

"Please, please" she pleaded. "I can't talk about it."

Chris staggered out of class as soon as it ended. She felt miserable and terribly humiliated. Now everyone would think she was some kind of freak, an emotional wreck or something. She was walking blindly through corridors. It was lunchtime, but she didn't know where the dining room was, and after her breakdown in class, she couldn't ask anyone either. Chris was so into her own thought she didn't look where she walked and suddenly she bumped right onto someone. It was the guy from class, John something, Zippo-guy.

"Woah, you better watch were you are going." He said. She turned her gaze to the floor and mumbled an excuse.

"Sorry" and then she began walking away from him, fast.

"Hey, new girl.. Wait, um, Christine was it?" He called behind her. She stopped and he caught up.

"Aren't you going to eat something for lunch?"

"I don't know where to go." She replied coldly and turned to face him. He had dark hazel eyes.

"Um, well okay then. I guess I'll show you," he said. "You can sit with me and Bobby."

Chris thought that Bobby must be the blue eyed boy he'd been talking to before. She accepted the offer, and somewhere inside of her, inside that confused and scared place she held, she felt a bit of calm reach in. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

-----

And here she was now, and it wasn't so bad. Bobby, Rogue and John seemed like they were potential friends, and she really missed having real friends. Then only sad thing was that she wouldn't see him anymore. Her chance of ever finding out who he was had been lost, maybe forever.

It was a sad thought indeed