Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men in any of its varying degrees of crazy universes. I'm pretty sure my brain would explode if I did. So in an attempt to save my landlord the fate of scrubbing brain matter from a carpet, I think I'll just be borrowing me some First Class canon for a bit.
THE SHADOW KING
Prologue: Eavesdropping
Charles had long since realized his mother didn't recognize the acoustic properties of their home. Particularly the sound carrying qualities from the front hall to the vents in the second floor reading room.
He wasn't surprised at that fact, before recent years Sharon Xavier spent less than three days a week in the mansion and now... well, she avoided this particular room altogether. Charles, on the other hand, had pretty much taken up residence, ecstatic at the selection of books. He'd worked his way through every shelf low enough he could reach it on his own and was getting to the point where he had to pull an antique chair over to attain the higher level ones. That was one reason of three he loved the room and, well, as previously mentioned: Acoustics was another.
Charles was really a horrible eavesdropper.
"Mrs. Xavier," It was a male voice, American, tinged with hints of old age and tobacco. Charles could hear his footfalls as he passed over the door's threshold, Sharon closing the door behind him, "It is good to see you again."
"As always, Richard," Sharon replied primly, though her tone held an edge of nervousness, "Thank you for coming, I know this is a terrible inconvenience to you."
"No, no," He assured kindly, "I recognize the... discretion this visit requires."
Sharon's voice hitched in a way Charles recognized when she tried to force a smile, "Quite."
The man, Richard continued, all small talk meant to lighten a mood, the noise fading to the point that Charles knew they were heading his way. Quickly, he scooped the book up from the floor and jumped onto the couch, trying to sit in a way that seemed like he'd been there the whole time. He only just cracked the book back open to his previous page when a light knock came on the door.
"Charles, darling?" Sharon didn't wait for him to answer to open the door, standing at the edge of the room with a slight squint, like the place was too bright. A man who could only be Richard eased in behind her, eyes curiously focused on him. Charles met the gaze back, polite but unintimidated.
"Yes, Mother?" He closed the book and pushed it onto the couch next to him, politely standing up like he'd been taught.
"We have a guest who would like to speak with you." Sharon moved to gesture but the man was already stepping close, bending down to offer a handshake at Charles's height.
"Doctor Brexton," He smiled, "and how are you, little man?"
The change in demeanor from professional to patronizing came with so little warning that Charles stuttered in returning the handshake, too busy staring at the man with quickly ascending eyebrows.
"Quiet well," Charles faltered, "Thank you."
"And how old are you, Charlie?" The man's grin widened amiably.
"Charles." He corrected, sending a quick disbelieving look at his mother who seem to be very busy staring at something on the pristine carpet, "and I am ten, but I expect you already knew that."
It was the man's turn to falter now, head tilting sharply, "And how would you know that, Charles?"
He frowned, "Well, you are a doctor, and you're here to see me, so I assumed that would have been your first question to my mother when she asked you here."
The man straightened to his normal posture, towering over Charles, the goofy grin off of his face. It had been replaced with something more reserved, an expression you'd fix on an adult instead of a child. Charles appreciated it immensely.
"You're a bright one, aren't you Charles?" The doctor spoke, gesturing for them both to sit, Mrs. Xavier mostly forgotten by the door.
Charles pinned his lips together for a moment at the compliment, looking off to a corner, "I haven't been able to go to school this past year, so I like to keep up."
"Because of your condition." Richard added unhelpfully.
Reluctantly, and with no short amount of caution, he nodded back, "Yes, my... condition." Charles's posture turned ridged even as he attempted to hide it. All of a sudden he wanted to be in any other room but this one, and he resented the man for robbing him of his sanctuary. He tucked his arms around his stomach and stared off in a pose very similar to his mother's, staring off at a corner, clinging to his calm.
"Do you hear voices, Charles?"
The question dropped in the room like a poorly skipped rock. The young boy didn't respond for a moment, eyes flickering around until he dared to look up at his mother.
"It's alright." She said, even though Charles could already feel the tremors underneath it. He wanted to plead with her to make this man, this situation go away, but he couldn't put it on her, he couldn't bear to pile his own fears on top of her own.
"Not all the time." His voice was quieter than usual, and he edged a look over at the stranger out of the corner of his eye before he managed to give him his full attention.
To his credit, the Doctor kept his expression fairly neutral, but Charles didn't really need expressions to tell what a person was thinking anymore. He could just feel it: The pity.
"Have you heard them lately?" He pressed, voice conversational.
Charles shook his head, "I've been trying not to."
"You can control it?" He returned, somewhat surprised.
"Mostly." Charles hedged.
Richard leaned forward in his chair, fingers locked together, "Why stop them, Charles? Are they mean voices?" His voice slid back into its earlier patronizing tone. Charles sighed in annoyance.
"They have no common malevolent property, if that's what you're asking, Doctor."
Yet again, he pressed, "Then why?"
"Because, it frightens Mother!" Charles nearly snapped, hands clenched, eyes focused keenly on Richard's. It must have been the old house, but the man could have sworn he heard a hollow, whispered echo of the words the boy had just spoken. The room itself had also taken on a weirdly oppressive mood and Richard found himself nearly unable to break off the stare Charles had zeroed on him.
Only when Charles looked away did the oppressive feeling dissipate, and Richard found himself oddly breathless.
The Doctor cleared his throat and tugged slightly at his tie, allowing the air to breathe in around his collar. When he looked back over Charles had once again started a staring contest with a blank part of the floor.
"You mother told me this all started after you heard the news of your father..." He tried once more.
"No," Charles cut him off, obviously not liking the way that question was going but still stubbornly keeping his gaze to the floor, "It just got worse. If you'd please, I'd like not to talk about that."
"Fair enough," The man nodded, "Then how about we talk about the incident at school last year?"
Charles looked like he didn't like this topic any better than the last one but he kept that opinion to himself, "You mean my brief catatonic lapse, the chair I threw out the window, or the time I appeared to be shouting at nothing in particular in the middle of class. You have to be specific with my incidents, Doctor, or at least narrow it down to a month."
"Charles Xavier!" Sharon chided sharply, before recently she'd never heard such a tone come out of her usually well mannered son. The most apologies she received was a quick desperate look before he turned away again.
"Those incidents won't happen again," Charles promised after a moment.
"Because you can control it now?" The Doctor asked, unperturbed by the outburst.
"No..." Charles shook his head again, speech uneven as he thought, "and yes. There was... something there at that school. Or perhaps just near it. I looked but I couldn't find it on the grounds, but it has to be there. I haven't heard it since I came home, I don't think it's close enough."
Sharon Xavier and Doctor Brexton exchanged a brief look that spoke more than enough for the whole situation.
"Charles," Richard spoke carefully, "What was this voice?"
The boy shook his head, lost in the memory, "I don't know. It didn't feel like the others. It wasn't even words sometimes, it was a presence. It felt like he could see me." He frowned in frustration, not used to not knowing.
The Doctor perked up at the change, "He, not it?"
Charles looked up, unaware that he'd made the distinction, "I... well, yes. I think he'd have to be. I asked him his name once." He almost didn't want to finish where this was going. He was now keenly aware of what the two adults in the room thought of him and he didn't know what was worse, letting them believe that he was, in fact, crazy or tell them the truth and seem even crazier.
"What was his name, Charles?"
With a deep sigh of resignation, he answered, "The Shadow King."
AN:
Well this fandom just couldn't leave me alone, could it? I just have to put in my two cents which I really hope you guys are going to enjoy. It is going to be a multi chapter fic, not quite sure how long yet, hopefully shorter than my last fic cause that thing was a freaking monster.
This fic is going to be set within the time of First Class and is going to go sharply AU after a point. Also for all of you who aren't familiar with comic canon, I am totally kidnapping a bad from over there. One that was veerry specific to dearest Charles here and who was unquestionably written out of his backstory by this movie. I am totally cool with that by the way as the movie backstory was so much less ridiculous and so much more meaningful.
Anyway! I love reviews, I really do, and I hope to hear that people are interested. It always makes climbing over the plot snafus all the easier.