When Kevin woke up, he knew something was wrong. The bed smelt starchy, which definitely wasn't a smell he'd smell in his uncle's home. His mother always tried to keep things neat, but she used something that smelt a little softer.

He opened his eyes, taking in the unfamiliar room. Kevin rubbed his eyes for a minute, looking at his mother lying in a bed next to his, asleep on top of the covers and in her clothes from the day before.

Although it wasn't an unusual sight, it was an unfamiliar placement, and an unusual place. Slowly, Kevin drew his legs up to his chest. That had all really happened. The voices, hurting his mom, Charles, flickering across the countryside, the three-way, silent conversation.

Now he was here. He laid his head on the top of his knees, feeling the sheet against his cheek. It was cool and nice, but the whole room felt distinctly unlived in. Was this the guest bedroom? Did they have guest bedrooms here?

No, Charles had said this was a school. He'd heard of boarding schools. Maybe they just had a lot of different bedrooms for when people came unexpectedly. Or when they moved them across state lines. Something like that.

Feeling odd, he slipped out of his bed and put his feet onto the wood floor. It was sanded down nicely, no splinters. He glanced at his mother, but she looked nice and peaceful right now. He'd already made things complicated for her. He could let her sleep. Kevin knew she didn't do much of that.

So he picked up his jacket and peeked outside the room. He wanted to know if Charles was nearby. The whole night had gone by in a blur. Perhaps he could ask someone? Find out where he was that way?

I can hear you just fine you know.

Kevin jumped, nearly hitting his arm against the door frame.

Sorry.

You can hear me? asked Kevin.

Well, I did put blocks in your mind, Charles said, sounding vaguely amused, It's not too much effort once I let it go, but when you woke up it felt a little bit like a faint tap on the door. I expect Jean can feel the same, but she's busy downstairs right now, and you certainly didn't just think her name.

Oh.

Kevin looked in the hallway, worrying his lip.

If it makes you uncomfortable, well, it shouldn't be for too much longer, Charles said, You'll be able to keep other people's voices out by yourself soon. I don't mean to intrude-

No, it's okay, Kevin said quickly, Just I...

He bit down on his lip a little harder.

I just didn't want to bug you, he said.

In the silence that followed, he could almost see Charles raise his eyebrows.

Bug me?

I mean, you've got stuff to do, said Kevin, You've got a school. You're busy. Like mom, you know. So...I mean, I don't know you that well, and after all the stuff you did for me last night-

Kevin, let me stop you before this goes too much further.

He put one of his hands out, holding onto the door and looking at the ground.

Why...why do you think asking for help, or even talking would bug me? asked Charles, Granted, I am busy, and I do have a lot to do, but I'm a teacher. If I can't make time for my students, then I'm not much of a teacher, am I?

You'd be like most of the teachers I've met, Kevin said.

Immediately he clamped his hand on his forehead. He hadn't meant to say that. But talking through thoughts wasn't like talking with words. You couldn't think before you spoke, because thinking was speaking now.

To his surprise, he heard Charles chuckle in his thoughts.

You don't like your teacher much, do you? he asked.

I...he's stupid, Kevin settled on.

Any other word would be a lie. Besides, maybe Charles would understand.

So descriptive. Come now.

He just keeps trying to bother my mom, said Kevin.

Bother? Bother...how?

There was a tinge of something in the thought, some emotion that seemed jumbled with the words.

Just...saying stuff about me, Kevin said, Asking about stuff. Me. Home. You know, stuff.

He hoped it would be enough for Charles. He'd probably already told him too much.

Alright, Charles said, Alright. But, before we go too much further, you should probably go back inside. Your mother's asleep, isn't she?

Last I saw.

Think about how upset she might be if she wakes up and you're not there.

Kevin jumped up and scampered back into the room, shutting the door as quickly and quietly as he could.

I didn't mean to scare you.

Sorry, I just, I don't want to worry her again, Kevin said.

I understand about that, said Charles, But, trust me Kevin, she just wants to make sure you're alright. She loves you very much. Never doubt that.

You know a lot about her, huh? asked Kevin, looking over at his still-sleeping mother.

Well...I...well, some, Charles said, She's a good woman. You might not understand just how amazing she is now Kevin-

I do.

Good, said Charles, Then you'll understand how much she cares. It's one of her most remarkable qualities.

Kevin nodded, shrugging off his jacket. He walked over to his duffle bag and began looking for something to wear. He had no idea what his mother had packed for them, he'd been too distracted by everything else to ask, but he knew there'd be something.

Underneath a bag of toothbrushes, toothpaste and floss he found a yellow polo and a pair of jeans.

Are we gonna have time to talk today? he asked, Like, in person?

Of course. I have an open morning this morning, Charles said, I mostly have advanced classes, and we don't have too many students in those.

When? asked Kevin.

As soon as your mother wakes, Charles said.

Can you wake her up? Kevin asked, I mean, can you tell if she's awake? I'd like her to rest, but if she's already up, then that would be great.

No, I don't know if she's awake, laughed Charles, It's rude to use your gifts without permission.

Oh, said Kevin.

He sat back down on the floor, clutching his clothes.

It's kind of like eavesdropping, right? he asked, I mean, that's the only thing I can really compare it to, but it's not eavesdropping. It's...

A flush crept up the back of his neck and he looked at his clothes, embarrassed.

It's worse, isn't it?

In some ways, yes, Charles said, But, Kevin, sometimes we can't help it, like we can't help walking in on a conversation. It's a little complicated, but you'll learn soon enough. Use your gifts with others only with their permission, or when you're trying to protect yourself.

From what? asked Kevin.

Unbidden, the image of his father hurting his mother came into his head. He stamped it down as quickly as possible, but the thought occurred that, if his mother had his powers, his father would've never been able to hurt her. If Kevin had had these powers when he was younger, than his father wouldn't have been able to hurt her either.

A small, nagging wish came, that he'd been able to do this when he was younger. His father wouldn't have been able to lay a finger on her. He wouldn't have been able to do a lot of things. Maybe he would've even been able to get him out of their lives, avoid all those terrible courtrooms and people in stuffy suits.

He clutched his clothes, hopeful that Charles hadn't heard any of his thoughts. He hadn't said anything though, so maybe he'd been able to keep this secret.

I get it, Kevin said.

Alright, said Charles, Now, I'll see you both soon. I think breakfast this morning is pancakes. Do you like those?

Charles seemed uncertain, almost as though he wanted him to be pleased. Kevin just smiled.

Pancakes are good, he said.

Good, Charles said, Now I, oh, of all the-

There was a pause, and Kevin cocked his head. When Charles spoke again it sounded like a frustrated sigh.

Excuse me, he said, It appears there's something I have to attend to. I'll talk to you later.

Okay, Kevin said, confused.

A feeling of emptiness, of quiet, stole over him, and he realized Charles was gone. He frowned. What had made him leave?

"Raven, now is not the time," Charles said, moving a book on his desk, trying to look busy.

"No, last night wasn't the time," she said, "That's why I backed off. But what was that all about exactly? All Hank would say is that we have a new student, and he was having a telepathic episode, but that was definitely Moira. What was that, her nephew?"

"Her son," Charles said.

He put his papers to the side and rested his arms on the table, splaying out his fingers. Raven was looking at him in mild surprise, but it was clear that she expected him to continue. He sighed and rubbed his temples.

"He manifested his mutation yesterday," said Charles, "I arranged for him to be brought to the Institute, along with his mother."

"And it was so urgent you needed him brought to the school immediately?" asked Raven, "Without telling anyone? Other than Hank I mean."

"He was there when I got the phone call," Charles said, "And it was urgent. Raven, he's not just a telepath. Telekinetic too. He was frightened, he was lost...he needed to come somewhere that understood him."

"And his mother couldn't take care of him for one night?" Raven said.

Her tone was grating on him, he'd had a long night, but he wanted to be gentle. He didn't want this to escalate into another argument.

"He'd run away," said Charles, "When he manifested, well, it looks like he threw her across the block. Doing that to a loved one...it's frightening. He was in pain. He needed to be found before he hurt himself, or others."

"That bad, huh?" asked Raven.

She sat down, her expression softening slightly. Charles nodded, rubbing his temples again.

"Kevin has a great deal of untapped power," he said, "Trees were shattering around him when we spoke. I don't think he realizes just how uncommon this is. He was around so many people, and the more voices he heard, the more frightened and frustrated he became."

He closed his eyes, thinking about that moment when he'd made contact with Kevin's mind. The type fear was familiar, but the specific fears brought him back to his own childhood. And Kevin, he had just wanted to go back home, for things to be safe.

"When I reached out to him, it felt so familiar," he said, "Just like it did with Jean. All these voices pressing in on you, tugging at your attention until you barely know where you end and they begin..."

He shook his head.

"That kind of gift needs balance, needs support," he said, "I needed to get him somewhere safe, and he couldn't bear to be separated from his mother."

"Him?" asked Raven, "Or you?"

Charles had to breathe in deeply, trying to calm the retort he wanted to give. His sister shrugged and looked over her shoulder, thinking.

"What does his father think of all this?" Raven asked.

"He's a non-factor."

"He's dead?" asked Raven.

"They're divorced," Charles said.

His sister made a face.

"Then he's not a non-factor," she said.

"They're divorced," said Charles.

It wasn't his place to tell her more. The abuse she'd received at Joseph's hands made him want to scream, make threats that he knew better to follow through with. However, it was her business. It was an intimate thing, and she had trusted him enough to share it with him.

But she had chosen to tell him. She hadn't chosen to tell Raven.

"He'll still want to know where his son is," said Raven, "And what about her job? The CIA are going to wonder where she went. Charles, you need to think about this logically. You can't have them both here."

"I understand your concerns. But the father," Charles said, "is a non-factor. We'll look into what to do about the CIA when they contact her."

Raven looked at him for a moment, her jaw tightening. She got up, tilting her chin up angrily.

"So it's still her first, isn't it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever Charles," she said, "I've got work to do."

"Raven-"

With a brisk wave she left the room, not looking back. Charles ran his hand over his head again, frustrated.