Chapter 1: Introduction to Human Communication.
Tom was in his bedroom the first time it happened. It happened so suddenly and the release it gave him was almost blinding, but after it happened, he sat down on the ground, looking at his messy hands and tears began to fall from his beautiful blue eyes. He knew it was wrong, he knew it was inhuman and he knew what his parents had thought about it, but he just couldn't help himself.
Soon he would have to do it just to numb the pain of the things happening around him. His parents were getting a divorce soon and his brother had recently tried to commit suicide from the stress of this problem. Tom was being picked on in school again and every day felt longer than the next; but this, this secret of his made him feel like he could do anything, rule his own imaginary kingdom and god, it felt good doing it. So he would escape when he could, steal away to the school toilet, the back of the dumpsters behind the school grounds, quietly in his bedroom or, every so often, in the church confession box.
Tom would do it slowly, watching as it happened and savoring each moment of it, this was his terrible secret, the one he knew he would be ostracized for if anyone found out: he had super strength.
He had seen them on the news at night, surrounded by his family and had discussed the issue at school, the issue of the mutants. To him, he had seen them as wonderful people, gifted with extraordinary gifts, but the way his parents had talked about them, he knew that they'd never accept anything to do with them. "But why?" he'd asked them once when he was seven and they shook their heads in disgust and his mother had leaned over and patted his arm. "Because, Tommy, they're bad people, and bad people need to be put down." That was the last time he'd talked about mutants to his parents, and when the head cheerleader of his school had caused a blackout in his town because her boyfriend broke up with her, Tom had signed the petition that she and her family move out of town. It was not one of his proudest moments, but he did it because he wanted to seem normal and part of the group, unlike the cheerleader, who he had found out from one of her friends that knew about her, had tried hard to live as normally as she could after she found out about her electrifying abilities.
And now Tom was in that position, keeping a secret from the world and his family, thank god he didn't have friends. But his mother found out anyway, accidentally and unsurprisingly. Tom was sitting in the garden under the oak tree where he used to play when he was a boy and he was looking down at the ground. His parents had been arguing again and his brother had hit his father in anger, not unusual for his brother who had a fiery temper. So Tom had run, as per scenario, to hide from the violence. He hated it and he loathed being in the middle of his family and a part of him thought that it really was a sick joke that he'd been given such an aggressive gift.
His mother was walking towards the tree when she saw him pull out one of the roots of the tree like it was a piece of paper and break it in half. She'd gasped and Tom heard her. He turned and saw the horror on her face and he felt his heart sink to the center of the Earth. "Mother," he'd said, but before he could continue, she'd stumbled backwards and run back into the house, screaming at the top of her voice. It was then that Tom's family had finally come together, his mother putting aside her drinking, his father giving up gambling and his brother being their mediator, all to get Tom out of their house.
Tom hadn't dared go back into the house then, so he had run from it. He went through town and had spent the night at one of the inns that were there, thanking God that he had had the good sense to always have a few pounds with him. But when he returned to the house the next day, he found two suitcases at the front door and a post-it stuck one handle's saying, "Goodbye Tom." That was all he got from his family, that and seeing all his possessions thrown into the garbage near his house. He had rummaged through his things with tears blinding him and had found it. His bound book of sketches, splattered with some liquid or other and his copy of The Divine Comedy, his favorite book.
Tom had grown up being taught to be a gentleman and how to carry on no matter what came his way, so, with his heart pumping fast and fear in his eyes, he held his head high and walked out of his small town, nodding and smiling politely at those who saw him. Many of them looked confused at the suitcases, but as he walked through the town, he felt the news spreading like wildfire and by the time he'd reached the town border, people were talking openly about him and what he'd done. He willed himself to not show any trace of emotion, to not give anyone the satisfaction of getting to him, but when he got to the train station outside of town, he allowed himself all but one tear to slide down his cheek.
Tom sat down on one of the train station benches and he opened the suitcases and looked at the contents of it. He never owned many clothes, so he was not surprised that they could all fit in two suitcases, but he found them perfectly folded and even an extra pair of shoes and his laptop and charger. He wondered who had done all this for him, then he remembered that as he had looked back at the house, he'd seen old Josephine, his nanny and house-cleaner looking sadly at him, a handkerchief in his hand. She'd blown him a kiss and he'd nodded at her and turned back to the road.
"Oh, Josie," he said and was almost reduced to tears again, but he cleared his throat and looked through the contents of the suitcase. There were pressing matters than succumbing to so many emotions in one day. He found a brown paper envelope at the bottom of one of the suitcases and in it, was about two thousand pounds. In it was also a note saying, "Remember that I love you, my dear Tommy," and was signed with a simple 'J'. Tom's heart swelled with happiness and he closed the suitcases quickly, knowing what he had to do.
He'd read about it in the papers and he'd seen in the news, so he knew what he had to do, but he didn't know where it was exactly. "One to London, please," he told the station lady and he took a train to the heart of London. As he got off the train, he realized that he was dressed exactly like a country boy, with his floppy jacket and his cream pants and he was sure that he looked a mess, so he went into one of the toilets there and was taken aback by what he saw in the mirror.
Sleepless eyes, ringed red and messy blonde hair sticking up at odds ends, he looked like he'd gone through a zombie attack, so he splashed some water on his face and tried to put his hair in a presentable manner when he felt something sharp on the small of his back. "Ey, whatchu go' in tha' case?" a voice said and Tom closed his eyes, fear taking him. "Listen, I don't want any trouble," he said and the pressure increased on his back. "An' I wanna know whatchu go' in the case," the voice said. "It's just some clothes and a pair of shoes," Tom said slowly and he closed his eyes, willing the pressure to lift off his back and after a few seconds, the pressure did lift off, but when he opened his eyes, his shoulder's drooped slightly as he found that the suitcases weren't by his sides anymore. He had put a thousand pounds and his passport in his pants pockets before he had left the train and he thanked his lucky stars that there seemed to be a God watching out for him.
Tom steeled himself and walked out of the train station to greater London and took in the sights. He'd never been to the city before alone and had always managed to get himself lost when he did come, so he did the most sensible thing and hailed a cab. "Where to?" the driver asked him and when he didn't answer, the driver looked round to see the young man with his eyes closed, breathing heavily. "Are you alright?" the man asked and after a moment, Tom opened his eyes and smiled weakly at him. "Yes, I'm sorry. Just been a tough day. I would like to go to Heathrow please," Tom said and the driver looked at him for a moment and smiled before he turned around and pulled into the road.
"You know lad, you don't have to be afraid of your gifts," the driver suddenly said and Tom looked at him, suddenly wary. "I haven't the faintest idea of what you're talking about," he said and the driver looked at him in the mirror and put his hand up. As he did, his hand turned a smoky grey and disappeared like fog. He gasped and sat back in the seat and the driver smiled warmly and his hand returned to normal. "You're not alone," he said and Tom swallowed hard, not being able to speak. "H-How?" he asked and the driver looked at him through the rearview mirror. "Because I was in your position a long time ago, lad, and I can spot one a mile away, most of us can," he said and when Tom looked confused, he added, "The cab drivers."
"The… cab drivers?" Tom asked and the driver nodded. "Most of the cab drivers around are mutants or people that help find mutants, well, in London at least. We help them get to a safe place if need be or put them up for the night," the driver explained and added, "I'm Robert, by the way." "R-Robert," Tom said slowly, still unsure, "I'm Tom." "Pleasure to meet you, Tom. Now, I know that this is a lot to handle, but you're going to Heathrow, are you sure you're not running?" Robert asked and Tom went silent. Honestly, he didn't know, he just knew that he had to get to that place. "Yes," he said finally, "I'm sure." Robert looked at him for a long while and finally nodded at him.
They spent the next hour talking about what it was like living with abilities, Tom asking tentative question and listening intently to Robert's responses. When they finally reached the airport, Tom looked out the window and licked his lips slowly, trying to pluck up the courage to get out of the car and step back into the world. Robert looked around and started the engine again and pulled out of the cab waiting line and drove. "Where are you going?" Tom asked, suddenly fearful, but Robert didn't answer him. Tom thought of using his ability, but he also had grown to trust the man in the short time that they had known each other, so he waited.
Robert pulled into the airport car park and parked the little black cab and got out. He opened the door for Tom and smiled down at the man. "Come on, Tom," he said and Tom slowly put a shaking hand on the doorframe and got out of the car. Robert closed the door and looked at him, "You could stay here, you know. You could become a cab driver and find others and guide them." But Tom shook his head and looked at the entrance to the airport. "I have to. I don't know why, but I know I have to."
Robert looked at him for a moment and the older man put a fatherly arm around Tom and gently nudged him to start walking. They walked through the airport and Robert helped Tom buy a ticket when Tom couldn't quite get the words out and they sat down at a McDonalds as they waited for the plane to board. "Robert," Tom asked and Robert looked up from his cheeseburger, "Why are you doing this for me?" Robert put down his burger and swallowed what was in his mouth.
"Tom, we have to pave our own paths in our lives," he said and took out his wallet and showed Tom a picture of his family, "I chose to live as normally as possible and I even found a wife who understood me and had my beautiful girls. That was the life I chose and I'm content with that. You have to find your own path and follow it, exactly where your heart takes you is where you're supposed to go." Tom looked at Robert for a long while and for some reason, he broke down. He began sobbing right there in the middle of Heathrow airport in a McDonalds. Robert was startled for a moment but put a hand on Tom's shoulder and Tom put his hand over Robert's as he cried. Robert sat silently as Tom calmed down and when he had wiped his cheeks with one of the serviettes, Robert asked, "Are you alright?" and Tom nodded. "Yes, sorry, long day." Robert chuckled, "You've mentioned."
They heard Tom's plane being called and after he'd checked in, he turned around and looked at Robert. "Robert, thank you," he said and Robert nodded, "It was a pleasure, Thomas." He held out his hand, but Tom wrapped his arms around Robert and Robert hugged him back. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Tom," Robert said quietly and Tom said back, equally as quietly, "I hope so too." When they parted, Robert looked at him and handed him a card. "If you're ever back in England, drop in." Tom nodded and began walking towards the plane. He'd miss Robert, that much he knew.
The flight to America was a bumpy one, but as they neared land, the skies became eerily still and clear, almost too perfect of a day and Robert looked out at rising sun and sighed to himself. America was a big place; he just hoped he knew where he was going. He landed at JFK airport and as he got out of the customs, he suddenly thought about Robert and whether or not the cabs here were the same as they were in London. He got out of the airport and was going to get into a cab when he heard a voice say, "No, Tom, not that one." He looked around, confused and he heard the voice again, "Go down the road, find the woman with white hair."
Tom thought he was going mad, but the voice in his head telling him to find a woman with white hair confirmed that he was not, indeed, going mad. So Tom, with all his intelligence and ability to think, went against his better judgment and did what the voice told him to do. He walked down the side of the airport and found an African American woman with a shock of white hair sitting on a bench, drinking a soda. "Um, hello," he said and the woman looked up at him and smiled. "Hi Tom," she said and stood up, "I'm Ororo Monroe. Follow me."
Tom looked at her uncertainly and she handed him a soda as she began walking. "You're lucky, you know," she said and Tom looked at her from examining the soda can. "Excuse me?" he said and she looked at him. "Most of us don't run away from home with a plan and so much money." He stopped and she looked back at him. "Have you been following me?" he asked and she shook her head and continued walking.
He looked down at the can and then he heard the voice in his head again. "Tom, none of us will hurt you. We just want to help you understand your gifts." "Yes, and the people of Salem did so enjoy their barbecues," he said under his breath and jogged to catch up with Ororo. "Ms. Monroe," he said, "Where exactly are you taking me to?" She turned to him and smiled and veered to the right, stopping in front of a silver SUV and she opened the door. Inside was sitting a man robbed of all his hair on his head and he heard the voice again.
"Hello Tom. My name is Professor Charles Xavier."