Oxford, England, around Christmas time 1960
„Xavier! Eh, Xavier!"
God, she was tired of following him all over the Campus, but thankfully this time he seemed to have heard her, as he stood and turned around.
„The petition, you wanted to sign it. Plus you forgot this", she breathlessly told the young man and handed him a scarf. He had a interesting face, not stunningly handsome, though not bad looking. It was framed by ordinary brown hair and his nose was a bit too big for her taste but she could not deny that his eyes were incredible. Big and of a blue colour that reminded her of the sky and the sea in equal measures. Especially when he smiled, like now, they got to her in a strange way.
„Thank you, Millie", he said, taking the scarf and signing the paper in her hands.
Then both of them stood in silence, uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.
„I was just about to get lunch", he said after a while „care to join me?"
„Yes", she replied smiling and accompanied him to one of the tiny bistros near Campus.
„You study Journalism, right? Well, except for the basics' course in history?", he asked as they ate chips.
„And English, of course", she answered.
„Of course", he echoed in a strange voice „why of course?"
„I thought you knew. I am from France; an exchange student only."
„Well, if I may say so, your English is quite well. I have never noticed... but then again, Millie is not truly a typical French name, is it?", Xavier wondered.
She had wanted to take a sip of her lemonade, and almost choked when laughing at the last question.
„It isn't, at all. My name is actually Maelys", she answered after having recovered.
„Nice name", he saluted her with the bottle of water in his hands.
„Well, Charles Xavier doesn't sound so bad, either. Could be French, too, you know?"
„It's the 1960's. Guess, anything could be anything by now."
A bar, some weeks later in 1961
„Millie", Xavier greeted her surprised as soon as he had identified the sobbing woman next to him as the French exchange student. She had stormed into the room (bringing an icy wind with her), sat down at the bar and ordered a wodka shot straight away.
„Hey", Xavier tried it again, as soothingly as he could „Millie. Maelys. What's up?"
He slightly touched her arm only for Millie to shove him off again. Finally she turned to face him. Her auburn curls were a mess and the crying had seen to the rest: black mascara had run down her face, her make-up foundation was disrupted by light streams of her tears and her lipstick was partly worn off.
"Life is bullshit", she said, ordering another shot.
"Don't say that. There are lots of oppertunities", he reached into his pockets in search of a tissue which he thankfully found and handed to her.
"Said the boy who will have become a professor without nearly reaching the age of thirty. So you are smart, but tell me, what does life have in store for you except work?"
He did not answer. Xavier did not want to let this woman, who was obviously devastated, insult his plans, which she would definitely do, once given the chance.
"What happend, Millie?", he asked instead and watched her down the second shot.
"He fucked me up."
"Jim?", he asked, knowing of the long term relationship she had had ever since they had first met "What...did he beat you?"
But just as he had asked her the question he knew. Maybe it would have been better to use his ability from the beginning, rather than stressing her out. On the other hand, talking, so he had been told, can be very helpfull, especially for women.
"Oh no, not that way", she still sobbed a little and motioned for the barkeeper to get her another shot „he slept with Emily."
"I am very sorry to hear", Xavier said, patting her shoulder. And then he knew, he should not. She did not want his pity. Millie wanted a friend, only, and she wanted another drink.
"Stop it, will you?", she asked, whiping the tears away "In the end, it is for the best. As I said he fucked me up. Destroyed me or, better, he made me destroy myself."
"Noone has the right to do that", he nodded and ordered another round of drinks "and don't you ever again try and give yourself up for some guy."
She now even smiled weakly and Xavier answered the smile with a small smirk at his success: "Promise?"
"Promise."
Summer 1961 , Millie's Farewell Party
"So, you promise to stay in touch, Xavier?", Millie asked with a great smile on her lips and sadneess in her eyes.
"Of course, we will", he agreed and took her in his arms „I will write to you as often as possible."
"It will be strange", she said as she hugged him back „to be back home. Please, do not laugh at me if my grammar turns poor after a while."
"I am sure it won't", he said and let go of her.
"Now", she told him and Raven, his friend, who – of course – had been invited, too, „I hope you will take care of one another. And you", she gave Xavier a pointed look „stop drinking so much, man. One day, something important will happen and you will be drunk."
"And yet, perfectly sober I stand before you", he interrupted her and they laughed.
"However. Take care", she smiled one last time and vanished into the crowd of people.
This was the last time Maelys Wibaux and Charles Xavier had seen each other. They started to be pen pals, though, and sent many, quite expensive letters and postcards to each other wherever they were. A year later, Professor Xavier and Raven left Oxford University to work with the CIA...
Ok, so I tried out something different: A X-Men fanfic. I hope you liked the first peak of it! :)
By the way, apologies for my English (and my French) - please don't be afraid of correcting me, it would be very welcome.
(It's not my mother tongue, and now that I have left school, I don't know how bad it really is. Though you are fullheartedly invited to guess where I am from - maybe there's a pattern there? Would be interesting...)
However, thanks for reading!
xxx scuffie