In the Quiet, the Unknown.
By Emparra.
In the quiet of night, a shriek pierced the air.
Pattering footsteps sounded sudden and muffled across the floor; a door swung open and little feet stumbled down a dark hall to another door. The knob was turned quietly, the heavy door cracked open, and little head peered around it.
"What is it, child?"
Another figure silhouetted by the moon, rose halfway on the bed in concern. At the invitation, the nightgowned child rushed across the rug to clamber into waiting arms. "What is it Sarah?" the man repeated as the little girl began to sob. "Bad dreams, bad men come to get me!" She gasped and sniffled in fear.
"My dear child, it's alright." He murmured, pulling himself up to rest against the headboard. "No bad men will come to take you away, not while I'm here to protect you. Alright Sarah?" The man hugged the child close as she cried out her fears. After a time, the shaking sobs subsided into a hiccup or two, and the little girl grew calm in the warm embrace that meant safety and comfort to so many children.
"Now, let's try and dry up those tears, shall we?" The man said, drawing back to meet her eyes and wipng away the tears. "Would you bring my chair over? So you can go back to bed?"
After a moment or two, she nodded and slipped off the bed to push a metallic wheelchair nearer, which she had unwittingly knocked away in her haste to clamber onto the bed. The man moved into it with ease, and lifted the little girl onto his lap to help her return to bed. There would be no more nightmares this night; the guardian of this child, and of the many others sleeping in the halls of the house, would keep them at bay. He reassured her as he helped her back into her bed and tucked the covers around the small body. His soft voice slowly lulled the little girl to sleep while something else, perhaps as great a power, ensured that no terror of the night bothered the young mind.
Once, that had not been the case. Once, that man had not been able to garner the barest hope for himself.
Now, however, he was the very one that made it possible for so many others to begin to build hope. When they could not have hope for themselves, he would hold it for them, until they were ready to carry it again. Because he had once fallen so low, mired so deep and lost so much, experience now had broadened his shoulders to carry the vast weight. He had had to pick himself up and climb out of the grave he had dug himself, and pull himself together before. That pain that once had so nearly overwhelmed him, had now become the foundation of a strength he could not have before fathomed.
And now, Charles Xavier had a house full of children. Children he loved, cared for, taught, and protected.
To an outsider looking in on this scene, it would seem merely like a father comforting his child from the restless dreams that visit children in the night, but to the dark figure hidden among the shadows on the grounds, it was a promise, a reminder. For this in not merely a big house in the country, nor a simple boarding-school, but a school full of children of all walks of life and races and shapes and sizes... for they were all mutants, and all were guarded jealously by their Caretaker.
Though their sides often clashed, those of the Mutant Brotherhood would benefit from the sanctuary built by Professor X for any and all who came in peace, for such was his promise. A place of safety and protection for the persecuted and helpless, and aid in time of need would always be offered open-handed in the countryside of New Salem, New York.
As the dark night stretched on, the child, the professor, and the hidden watcher each went their ways in dreams or waking, all was at peace again, for a short while at least.
Feniss.