Thanks to whylime, Voodoo, and ellie for reviewing!
Charles looked at the chessboard in front of him and debated attempting a solo game. It wouldn't be the same, of course, if such a thing could even work at all, but he found himself aching for a decent opponent.
He had tried teaching Scott, but Scott didn't have the patience to sit still for so long a time. At least not without a book in his hands. It was too bad, really: a nice game of chess might have been the perfect opportunity to mention how often he shouted in his sleep.
Hank could play, but for Hank, chess seemed to be a stimulant. Charles played chess and let the game quiet his mind. It seemed Hank's subconscious never went quiet. At any point during a match, he might have a sudden scientific revelation. He was too considerate to forfeit—usually—but his mind was elsewhere.
Having Hank around kept Charles's ego from inflating. For all he had worked and learned and studied, he would never have Hank's natural ability.
A knock at the door shook him out of his thoughts. Before he has the chance to ask who was there, his visitor answered that question by coming in without waiting for a response. The others wouldn't. Hank, if he burst in, would do so with a rushed apology melding into an even more rushed explanation; and Scott was too compulsively polite.
Alex settled opposite Charles. They could have played chess, but Alex was really more a pinball kind of guy.
"What's the story on your puppy?" he asked.
"I'm sorry?"
"The kid."
Charles sighed. As glad as he was to see Alex, some things about him were difficult to miss.
"I've asked you not to refer to people that way."
He had felt like a primary school teacher, but what choice did he have? Alex had a knack for identifying someone's weakest spot and poking it with a stick.
Alex objected, "You must have noticed the way he looks to you."
"Yes, of course I have," Charles admitted.
That was basically a staple of education with Scott. Charles preferred to think of Scott as the first of many students, still planning to open a mutant academy. He was making progress, too, though what he had right now was one homeschooled fifteen-year-old with the mathematical ability of a goldfish.
Scott was about as good at algebra as he was at chess, but it was hard to be frustrated with him. He always tried and he was deeply apologetic—in fact most of his efforts seemed to be not towards furthering his own education, but making Charles happy. (This, ironically, was incredibly saddening.)
So, yes, Scott looked to Charles as a puppy looks to its master. Alex didn't need to say it, though. Not like that.
"Have you given any thought to what you mean to do?" he asked.
Alex cleared his throat. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I was kinda hoping I could… uh… the thing is, I still lose control of it sometimes. Of my ability."
"You're always welcome here and I'm still happy to help you however I can."
Previously, Charles had thought Alex made quite a lot of progress. Had he stopped practicing when he left?
Charles had come to appreciate, over the past months, that many powers were far more complicated to use than his own, especially for someone like Scott or Alex. Their powers were destructive. While a mistake for Charles meant knowing something that might be awkward for him to know, Alex or Scott would accidentally find themselves standing in a pile of rubble.
"I'm not sure what I'd do in a school," Alex admitted.
Neither was Charles. It was easier with himself and Hank, and there were other adult mutants. Alex…
"Teach gym."
They both laughed.
There was a place here for Alex. Charles did not yet know what it was, but he was determined that it existed. It had to: where else was Alex going to do if he still lost control?
"What do you like to do, Alex?" He realized he did not know. They had worked together only briefly and unlike the others, Alex's life had not been interrupted by the experiment.
Alex shrugged. "I was never much good at school. Nothing seemed important, relevant."
It sounded, to Charles, likes Alex had never been interested in school. There was a big difference between being no good at math and being taught math poorly—but it wasn't the time for that argument.
Instead, he asked, "What do you like to do outside of school?" He saw the answer before Alex gave it and objected, "Oh, come on, you must have something. What have you been doing for the past year?"
"Well…"
Alex cleared his throat. There was something, but Charles neither pressed the issue nor used his telepathy. He had learned to rely less on that, over the past few months. Communicating via thoughts was often the easier option—'option' being the most important word. If he read Scott's mind even half so often as he considered it, Scott would probably barely speak for the rest of his life.
The same could not be said of Alex, yet Charles found himself using the same tactic. He was not their peer. That changed how he behaved towards them, how much he considered 'helping'.
"We'll find something," he promised, and he believed it, though Alex clearly did not.
To be continued!
