"… As many more individuals of each species are born than can possibly survive; and as, consequently, there is a frequently recurring struggle for existence, it follows that any being, if it vary however slightly in any manner profitable to itself, under the complex and sometimes varying conditions of life, will have a better chance of surviving…"
'Doctor McCoy, open the door, please!' a sudden, irritatingly loud cry was followed by the no less irritating succession of knocks, which resonated in Charles' ears with disturbing tenacity.
'What's happened, Sean? And will you be so kind and keep quiet – professor is not feeling very well at the moment and …'
Charles turned the page, desperately trying and so far steadily failing to block out the noise.
"… and thus be naturally selected. From the strong principle of inheritance, any selected variety will tend to propagate its new and modified form…"
'Yes, I understand that, but what do you expect me to do?' Sean's persistent whispering was not better than Sean's normal voice. 'You know how he is, he won't listen to me!'
'Can't say, that you are wrong, but I really don't understand, what do you want from me,' the reply was laced with barely concealed wariness.
It seems that whatever is going on out there, Charles ought to face it soon. The sooner – the better, actually. Having spent a lot of time trying to use reading as means to fight off insistent headache, left him exhausted. His favorite book, worn from constant rereading, has drained its effectiveness after he'd read it how many times – maybe, seven or six during this week's voyage. Charles put it aside, attempted to smooth his hair and predictably lost the never-ending battle again, straightened his shirt collar and mentally readied himself for the inevitable.
He opened the cabin door and was met with his guilty-looking companions. Interrupted in the midst of the discussion, Hank and Sean were startled and for almost thirty seconds Charles enjoyed nervous silence like pure bliss.
'Sean, Hank, what's going on?' he had to croak the second half of the sentence. Apparently, the prolonged staying inside his cabin made him forget how to speak – or was it his sore throat.
Hank, ever the professional, was looking him up and down with worried eyes, taking in his rumpled appearance.
'Professor, you still have a fever I would not recommend you…'
'I'm very sorry to interrupt, but Alex went and got into some trouble again. There was a fight on a lower deck, and this time around captain told him, that he'll lock him up somewhere in the hold. If you want to know, it was about gambling again. Well, Alex lost his temper again and called him…but this part you probably don't want to know…'
Sean took a deep breath and for the first time during his monologue looked Charles in the eye.
'Holy goodness, professor, you look awful,' uttered Sean, straightforward as usual, 'Come to think of it, you look just like my uncle after eight pints of beer and that strange whisky, which smells like…'
Some time has passed before Charles realized that somewhere in the middle of speech he was disconnected from reality.
'And then he had almost died,' continued Sean.
'Sean, this is not an appropriate time for your family tales,' Hank joined the conversation on time, because Charles' brain has started to form a stupid idea that his head would simply explode from pressure. Wouldn't it be a long awaited relief, he mused to himself.
'As for Alex, Sean, you did right that you came to me. I'll be grateful if you lead the way,' he stopped to clear his throat before adding, 'so, I can access the situation and see how I can help Alex.'
Charles made a suggestive gesture and Sean hurried along the corridor.
'Professor, are you really feeling better? Any headache, dizziness?'
'No, I'm fine. My headache is almost gone, can you believe it?' lied Charles on the spot and immediately regretted it. Whom is he trying to fool? Certainly, not Hank.
The foolish habit formed long time ago, to lie in response to questions, provoking sympathy, makes itself known from time to time. Hank is his doctor. He would have trusted him with his life if necessary. Without Henry's invaluable assistance it would've been much more difficult to organize the expedition – even as spare as this has been. Young doctor was a promising specialist and a kindred spirit when it came to research or some new possibility of discovery. In addition to all above, he instantly agreed to join Charles from the very beginning, when the whole idea was an obscure matter and Charles shared it without any second thought. Hank was great, but, if only he had not acted like the venerable colleague in duty to Charles' wishes all the time, it would be preferable. Surely, they spend a great amount of time together, emerged in interesting discussions but Charles, given his hunger for human contact, was desperately craving for more.
Wonderful, it's high time to start unnecessary brooding and to wallow in self-pity. He feels as if he's already become an old, lonely man with relationship issues. Cold is getting to him hard.
His current state of mind was justified by the fact that it all went wrong from the very day they boarded the ship. That first day was craved into his memory not only due to the hectic baggage checks, another one of Alex's infamous tricks, him, getting a fever, accompanied by the parade of all other symptoms, but also there was Cain. Cain, whom he hadn't seen in a while, was travelling on the same ship. Deity over there must dislike him or even hate, decided Charles. As a result, he had a descent pretext for locking up in his cabin in company of Darwin and other authors. Small mercies do exist.
If he was superstitious, he would have thought that the source and cause of his bad luck was his great-grandfathers watch. All the trouble began after that unfortunate incident. He was very embarrassed by the consequences of it – after one very vigorous celebration of his thesis, finally having got a degree, Charles, drunk mostly because of sheer joy and excitement, was caught up in a scuffle with a couple of friends. Nothing serious and no one's hurt, except of his watch, which by ridiculous coincidence, almost crumbled beneath his friend's foot. And it was not Matthew's fault, of course it wasn't, Charles has assured him of it. He told poor Matthew that it was a meaningless gift from a distant cousin. Never mind, that he didn't have any of the kind. The lid was creased and the mechanism was in need of good repair. He'll definitely do something about it but later. Being responsible heir has never been his priority but this time he realized that the legacy of Xavier's was in his hands, and he wasn't thinking about the watch.
'An attractive specimen. I'd say very much so,' drawled Emma, turning to face the fair-haired young girl in a nearby chair, who's just dropped the fashion magazine she was reading on her lap.
'But, countess,' she started to whisper, blush already painting her pale face and neck, 'he might hear you. Excuse me, but this is indecent! I'd never…'
'My dear Jane, you may choose to listen attentively, because right now I'm going to give you a good and, please mind it, absolutely free advice. So, my dear, you have to enjoy the beautiful view whenever and wherever you can. Always. No matter the circumstances. And while my companion and your spouse are playing poker, we can also have our share of entertainment. This is only fair, don't you agree?'
Erik turned around in no time to meet the piercing eyes of a beautiful blonde and catch the remnants of the conversation. He walked on by and soon leaned against the railing, inhaling fresh air with ecstasy of the man long deprived. A couple of weeks before, he's been living in anticipation. He's coming home. Erik is coming back to Africa. Of course, in retrospect, Erik hasn't harbored any illusions. No one's waiting for him in Africa, no one obviously remembers him, but, nevertheless, Africa was the one place he considered his home. He was born in Africa, grew up in Africa and his real parents were buried on the continent.
Prolonged stay in a confined oppressive space with these so called civilized people, started to get on his nerves. Many years he'd observed the same performances and false pretenses. During his first visit to London, his parents-in-law have taken him to the theatre. Initially, he was overwhelmed with new feelings and impressions. However, after a string of performances he somewhat lost every interest in the theatrical play. After all, the real world is much more fun to observe, the only difference between two – the first one was rehearsed and the second always contained an element of surprise in it. Since then, the choice was made. Melodramatic suffering and idle passion were not satisfying any more. His father-in-law used to point out that Erik, having lived a better part of his life outside human society, possessed a special gift. He called it a "natural vision". As a rule, that was the moment, when his foster mother stepped in, slightly exasperated by her husband's phrasing, telling Erik to treat all people well, speaking about mistakes and forgiveness, strengths and weaknesses. She'd never tried to prove a point – she simply talked to him for a while until he started to open up bit by bit.
The independence of his decisions was intact. He thought, he listened to Eisenhards out of courtesy, somewhat reluctantly, and only in a couple of years he was surprised to notice that a feeling, which can be described as peace was forming deep inside.
Four years later there had been a fire. A few years Erik spent aimlessly wandering around Europe on his own. He'd never stayed in one city for longer than a month.
This spring in Paris he met someone. Anna Marie was smart, gorgeous and charming beyond measure. Also, thanks to her, he's got acquainted with the work of French secret police firsthand. Well, he's had the chance to participate and truth be told – it was exciting. Danger made him feel more alive than he'd felt in decades. Afterwards, Erik's expression of gratitude was met by genuine laugh. Anna Marie invited him to her wedding but Erik politely refused.
She was not offended at all, thus being aware of his intentions to go to the continent, had asked for a favor.
Erik caught himself mulling on his current boredom and smiled, feeling bitterness with a hint of despair. He must acknowledge the truth, however difficult it may be – the well-fed life definitely has its impact on his personality.
But for some gifts of civilization, like good games and alcohol, Erik was sort of grateful.
He turned abruptly and was met with the same piercing gaze from before. Perhaps, even in utterly boring places like this one, true predators can be found. Erik smiled to himself and addressed the blonde with a curt nod.
The main hall, where the restaurant and the excellent bar provided booze for many gamblers, currently occupying several round tables in the middle of the room, was full of smoke and noise. Erik chose a quiet place in the corner and readied himself. His posture, only seeming reluctant and relaxed, has allowed him to blend in rather easily. Sooner or later something interesting was bound to happen. Erik would gladly enjoy the show.
So it happened that the long awaited conversation with Alex was held in the evening on the deck. Twilight was blissfully quiet and calm. Previously, Charles had to apply his talent for diplomacy to the unbelievable extent; he has always being secretly proud and even considered himself gifted in this special sphere – and yes, he'd settle the problem with losings, and yes, he was confident that Alex hadn't cheated, and, of course, this wouldn't happen again.
Now, Charles is leaning against the railing, silently wondering where to start. Evening air is fresh and pleasantly warm. His headache's receded to slight thrumming. And Charles has asked himself one more time – why he had permanently ignored Hank's advice to go out and breathe some fresh air. He was too absorbed in his physical and emotional misery. Such a loss...
Alex, hands clasped behind his back, was standing a few feet to his right, waiting. Suddenly, Charles has come to his senses just on time to realize that he was being silent for more than ten minutes. He decided to start with the main question.
'Alex, why do you refuse my help every single time?'
'I did not ask you to interfere! And you are not be able to do anything, with all due respect,' maintaining courteous tone was not an easy task for Alex.
'You have great future, Alex. Why do you want to destroy it? You know, I have certain obligations and your guardian…'
'Ah, you don't suppose that I'll take that for granted, do you?' the indignant mockery in his voice has signaled Charles, that Alex is retreating again, using his harsh words as a shield. 'I don't understand why I am here. But maybe you do. How immature of me! Well, as ironically as this may sound, this life is mine and I want to live it the way I chose. Not the old man, not you!'
'Alex!' Charles' attempt to rein Alex in was left unnoticed. A sudden slash of pain, very intense and quick in the right side of his head made him grasp the railings.
'I know everything about losing parents, and believe me, I'm able to realize how you feel. Not exactly, but still,' Charles sighed. 'The sooner you understand that you're not as alone as it may seem to you, it'll eventually get better. You have a lot of possibilities before you, a lot of time to find out what kind of man do you really want to become.'
'Sounds great!' replied Alex with false cheerfulness. 'So I have to continue on the path my uncle suggests for me, though I'll never be a descent lawyer and everybody's aware of it, until he quits the stage. Then, the inheritance's mine.'
'Would you listen to me? I asked your uncle to give you this chance to see the world, because I thought it'd be good for you to leave England.'
'What do you know about me? I'm not one of your students who will gladly walk in your shadow and repeat your every word!'
'That's completely unfair,' bristled Charles. 'Please, tell me how I can make it right.'
'The answer to this question hasn't changed since the first time you've asked. And this is my answer: leave me alone. Don't try to help me. You act it because our parents were friends, right? Professor Xavier, I'm not your student, and certainly not your friend. And by the way,' he delivered a final blow with the cruelty of young and hurt. 'I saw you on the deck with this Marko – your relative, right? You probably like to think about yourself as such a generous benefactor; savior of orphans and shit, but you can't even defend yourself.'
Charles clutched the iron railing – the pain flared up his knuckles. Black dots were dancing before his eyes and, for a split second, he could not feel his feet. Strong hand steadied him, gripping his shoulder. Alex, his face a mixture of anger, rage and, strangely, alarm.
'I'm sorry. I'm… You should lie down,' Alex went all red in the face, was it caused by guilt, embarrassment or by residual anger – Charles didn't attempt to guess.
Instead, he focused his eyes on Alex's face, gathering the remnants of self-control, and said, quietly but distinctly:
'Leave me alone.'
There had to be something in his voice or facial expression, because Alex retreated immediately, clumsily taking his hand away.
Some time has passed, before Charles found it in him to stand on his own and let go of the railing. His instant panic at the mentioning of Cain, fatigue and sharp headache didn't allow him to focus. He needs to sit down. Needs to put himself together. Charles noticed an empty armchair next to the wall. He had to admit that the chair was damn comfortable. He massaged his temples and threw back his head. Charles tried to think about different pleasant things – new plants and animals he was going to discover, the charming cousin of Matthew; soon he'd meet Mr. Howlett – they have known each other only through correspondence, but Charles felt that they'd work well together. His thoughts mixed with a touch of noisy music from the inside, the lapping of waives against the side of the ship and distant commotion. A light breeze touched his face and brought the smell of salty water and warm, tropical night. Charles hadn't noticed when he fell asleep.
Having woken up, he felt surprisingly relaxed.
Evening merged into night. The stars were twinkling in the deep-blue; the light ribbon of the Milky Way proudly divided the dome of the sky into two parts. The universe was magnificent and Charles was overwhelmed with the candid greatness of it.
His body was well rested, and mind was clear. Unusual burst of energy pushed him to his feet. Charles walked along the deck, smiling to himself. Then, he stopped and listened. At the edge of perception a strange anxiety was brewing. No, there was something. His natural curiosity made him cross the distance to the stern of the ship. Night was motionless and Charles clearly saw a figure of the man, standing near the railing. The stranger leaned on the railing with a lazy grace – his eyes were turned towards the ocean and the posture betrayed the person, immersed in one's thoughts.
Suddenly, like out of nowhere, a mysterious figure detached itself from the shadows near the wall and slipped to the stranger so quickly that Charles didn't have time to realize what's going on. He hadn't even seen the blow, but before he started to process something, the man was already falling into the Atlantic Ocean.
No, thas couldn't possibly happen, he panicked. But he's not crazy. Just a moment ago there was a man and now… Where's the other one? He frantically turned around.
Think, Charles, think. Now is not a proper time to be concerned about imaginary enemies. A person is down there in the cold ocean waters. Then, why didn't he hear a cry. Well, yes! Charles cursed his stupidity. He screamed.
'Man overboard! Help!'
His voice quickly turned into inarticulate wheeze, but judging by the light flaring on the deck and the approaching footsteps, has managed to attract attention.
'Slow down the ship!' he shouted again.
No, it looks as if he doesn't have time. Why didn't he hear a sound? Maybe, that person was severely injured, maybe unconscious. But the ship was moving on. Charles needs to do something before it is too late. He can tell where he fell; he can do it.
To hell with everything, he swore to himself, and cried out to the crew member approaching him:
'Inform the captain and slow down! I'm going after him!'
The engine finally slowed down.
Charles took a deep breath and jumped.
'Wait, you idiot! What are you doing?!'
'Stop this lunatic!'
Next second he hit the water so hard that his mind blacked out for a moment.
When Erik fell into the ocean, his first impulse was to swim away from the moving vessel. It didn't occur to him to scream for help. Firsthand, he wouldn't be heard at this rate. Secondly, he always relied on himself. He could blame no one but himself for being too careless.
Idly, he started thinking. What were his chances that he'd be picked up or would get to the closest shore on his own? The chances were extremely slim.
Something was happening on the moving ship. The wind brought the sounds of screaming and alarm in his direction. The vessel lighted up and slowed down.
A dark silhouette flashed before his eyes only for a brief moment. Someone's jumped in the ocean to search for him, someone's noticed. Erik swam toward the ship, hoping that his supposed savior had enough brains to avoid being dragged down by the engine propeller.
Erik was close enough to see the exact moment when the person in question has suddenly disappeared under the water. Erik sped up, took a deep breath and dived. By sheer luck, he managed to grab the other's hand and pull the body closer. He wrapped his free arm around the man's torso and they broked the surface together.
Erik immediately let go of him, but stayed close just in case.
The moonlight helped him to distinguish the pale youthful face and seemingly huge dark eyes of the man, who has jumped after Erik in the Atlantic Ocean. Strange, but he couldn't remember him both among the passengers and the crew. And face like this he would memorize for sure.
The next surprise came later, when the stranger's eyes have founded his and his face was lit with a wide sincere smile. He was casually grinning, as if he was insanely happy to see Erik, as if he hadn't nearly died just a minute ago, as if he has been jumping from the ship every day. To say Erik was puzzled was an understatement.
'Sir, are you all right?' he uttered urgently, stopping to cough. 'I'm so glad, that I've seen you. You know, it was dark and I thought that I was tricked by the shadows. But you are not imaginary. Definitely not! Oh sorry, I haven't introduced myself…'
That was the very night, when Erik met Charles Xavier.