BOOK FOUR: COMING INTO THE LIGHT

Chapter Twenty-Six

Charles Xavier was sitting by the bedside of Maria, holding her hands and attempting to get inside her mind. The girl's resistance was staggering. She had shut out everything, and all he could sense was a terrible residue of shame and humiliation that made communication with her psyche almost impossible. The more he tried to reach her, the stronger her resistance became. Maria. Maria. Please don't shut me out. But it was no use. The girl had taken refuge somewhere so deep that he was afraid to probe further for fear of inflicting permanent harm to her psyche. But if he didn't find some way to reach her, she might just suffer a complete psychotic breakdown, one that might take years to recover from-if she ever did.

The others had all stopped by at one point or another to see how she was doing. Charles, bent on his task, had been able to tell them little. Apparently the Thinker and his androids had disappeared, and good riddance. He could be dealt with another day. And yes, indeed, Charles Xavier had every intention of dealing with the Thinker.

His only substantive discussion had been with Jean. Her visit, in fact, had been rather disturbing to him, because it had led to a dispute of sorts between them. She had inquired about Maria, and he had told her that nothing had changed since the girl's collapse. Then Jean told him about their first meeting, and her revealing to Jean of her "human" persona, and how desperately the girl asked Jean to keep it a secret. Charles had no problem with that in and of itself-indeed, he would expect nothing less of Jean, to keep such a confidence. Charles sighed to himself. If Maria had come to him right away and explained matters-perhaps there might have been something he could have done for her-

No, that sort of second-guessing was useless. First of all, what evidence was there that he could have helped her? Had he been of any help to Scott, after all, in getting the poor boy to control his eyebeams? Secondly, Maria-as he was seeing at this moment-regarded this persona-"Anna"-as something so deep and primal that her very sanity depended on it being her secret. Well, hers-and Jean's. Charles felt a burst of pride regarding that-that Jean was able to overcome Maria's defenses so totally at their very first meeting, and get the girl to confide in her. Jean was his true disciple in so many ways, and he felt that she was in some respects already wiser than he was. That was the only reason their dispute had not become an issue between them.

He had asked her, when she was visiting Maria, if there was anything else about the girl she could tell him. And Jean had hesitated, and finally shrugged.

"Professor-there is. But this is, if anything, even more traumatic to Maria than 'Anna' herself is. I don't feel that I can tell you without Maria's permission."

"Jean-the girl is in critical condition. I am trying to keep her from drifting away from us-possibly forever. Any information you can provide may help in preventing that outcome."

And Jean had looked hard at Maria, and also, Charles knew, hard within herself, and finally shook her head. "Professor-it is my judgment that telling you this now would do more harm than good. If she knew that you knew-that anyone knew-it would push her even further away from us, into her own misery and despair. Please, sir, you must trust me on this point."

Charles had just sat there for some time, then finally nodded unhappily. For the moment, he left it at that. But the matter was not resolved in his mind. If he had to have it out with Jean, then so be it. For now, all he could do was keep trying to reach into Maria's mind, make contact with the girl.

Maria felt happy. She was walking through the zoo, holding onto Mommy's hand. She knew she had been a good girl, because she hadn't been sent to the Other Place for a very long time now. Mommy almost had stopped threatening her with the Other Place, and Maria hoped that just maybe she'd never have to go there again. She loved the zoo and the animals. They walked through the Monkey House, and she laughed at the orangutangs and the gorillas and the cute little chimpanzees. At the very end of the Monkey House there was a cage, and there was only one animal in it. It was a monkey with blue fur, and he was reading a book. She was surprised-she didn't know that monkeys could read books-and he turned to Maria and said, "oh my stars and garters, young lady, you are in trouble now", and Maria screamed and ran after Mommy, who had gone on ahead of her. But Maria couldn't find her, and she panicked, and ran into a man with no hair sitting in a wheelchair. He turned to her and said, "Maria-please let me help you." And Maria screamed again, and ran completely out of the Monkey House, out of the zoo, until she was all alone, and she felt a blessed relief because this was the only thing she wanted, to be alone and away from everyone else, especially the blue monkey with the book and the man in the wheelchair...

Late that afternoon, Scott, Jean, Warren, Hank, and Bobby met in Scott's room for a council of war. The Professor was still with Maria, and while the girl was no better, she was no worse, either. He still was trying to reach her on the psychic plane. Scott shut the door to his room, and faced the others arrayed around him.

"First. Jean-how are you feeling?" he asked. Jean shrugged.

"All right. I'm physically beat, and my head and shoulders still ache. But I'm an X-Man. This sort of thing comes with the job. I'll be OK."

"Fine," Scott said, and he realized how difficult he was finding keeping his rage in check. The Thinker had harmed Jean. For that, he wanted to kill him with his bare hands. Which was why he had to be extra careful not to feel that way. "I have to say first-I've already apologized to the Professor, and now I am to you: I let the Thinker bait me, goad me to the breaking point. You all saw it-my burst of temper. That should not have happened."

"My God, Scott," Bobby said with a trace of humor in his voice. "If that's the worst thing you do as leader of the X-Men, we'll be damned lucky. Forget it." The others emphatically agreed with this, and Scott just shrugged.

"OK," he said. "Thanks, all of you. Now. Maria." He shut his eyes, and felt tears coming to them. Stop that, Scottie. It does no one any good. He opened them, glad his visor kept his tears from showing. "I can't even imagine what she's been going through all this time. To have-her-"

"Anna," Jean said softly.

"-Yes. Anna. To have her potentially inside her, that kind of beauty, and only able to be her a few minutes a week. And unable to tell anyone about it. Terrified as to how we'd all react."

"Except for Jean," Warren said, an odd emotion in his voice that Scott couldn't figure out.

"Yes," Jean said in that same quiet voice. "Except for me. She revealed 'Anna' to me at our first meeting, in Pennslyvania. She swore me to secrecy. Scott, boys-she had to tell someone. And we had already bonded strongly. She went all the way, took a chance on me. I hope I have deserved her trust."

"You have to ask?" Warren said, still in the grip of that emotion, and Scott realized that it was simple rage, the anger he felt too, that the Thinker had done this to Maria.

Jean, still speaking softly-and by God, Scott realized, she was in the grip of pure rage, too. He had never seen Jean like this, and he was suddenly feeling a little afraid-said: "Maria, of course, as a prank, came to your birthday party, Scott, at the Coffee-a-Go-Go in the guise of an old friend of mine from Annandale. I fell in with her as soon as I saw what she was doing." Jean smiled slightly, and Scott felt a measure of relief at that smile. "She was certain that none of you would recognize her. 'Thick as bricks', I believe was the term she used." She turned to Hank. "Not to pick on you, Hank, but you didn't suspect?"

Hank, who appeared to still be in shock, shook his head. "No, fair damsel, not for a second. 'Brick' is a good sobriquet. I deserve to have one smashed over my head. A nice, heavy one."

"No," Jean said, taking Hank's hand and squeezing it. "No, Hank. Why should any of you suspect such a thing? After all, Maria is-what she is. Who could think anything else?"

Hank looked at the floor. "Oh? Not even after the 'Bride of Frankenstein'?" He looked, sounded, lost, and Scott on an impulse walked over and squeezed his shoulder. Hank smiled at him, and looked at the rest of them. "I have no idea what knowing the truth about 'Anna' might have accomplished. It certainly would not have helped me." He shrugged. "It is no secret that I have strong feelings for Maria."

The others nodded, and Scott noticed that Jean was looking very unhappy. Why? Hank went on. "Indeed. She feels that her looks make her incapable of love. Now, perhaps, we all realize why. To have 'Anna' inside her, but unable to manifest her-" Hank suddenly slammed one very large and heavy foot on the floor savagely. "As if I care! But Maria will never believe that. Especially now."

The others looked at Hank with sympathy. Jean, though, just looked unhappier than ever. She knows something. Something she still hasn't told us. Scott almost demanded on the spot that Jean tell him, but decided against it. That could wait.

He turned to the others. "X-Men-Maria has been in her own private hell ever since she became a mutant. Whatever the truth about her, it was her decision to reveal it-to Jean, as she did, or to whomever. When and as she wished. The Thinker injured her, physically-as he did Jean. But enemies have injured us before. That isn't why we're all so angry now." There was emphatic nodding, and Bobby said "hear, hear."

"No," Scott continued. "This is different. The Thinker violated Maria on a level so deep I don't even have words for it. 'Psychic rape' might be a very crude approximation. And he did it so callously, in such an eager and gloating manner-" He had to stop, take a breath. Jean was immediately by his side, taking his hand, and she remained there. "No. This is different. Someone whom we all love has been egregiously and wantonly attacked, and is in a fight for her very soul as a result of it. We have to depend upon her own strength-and of course, the aid of the Professor-to pull her through. We have to hope that happens. But in the meantime-" He looked around at each of them. "We have to consider what we do about the Thinker. I assume there is agreement that we have to make him pay for what he did?"

Every head nodded, and in every pair of eyes was determination. "Very well," Scott said. "The X-Men do not kill. That will not change, not even for him. But there is no reason why we can't make the Thinker wish he were dead."

Every head nodded at this. "Scott," Jean said, "I speak for every one of us when I say that we won't rest until this is done."

"You scarcely need to ask where I stand," Hank said.

"Or me," Bobby added.

"Oh, it's unanimous," Warren said. He put his hand out, and soon all of their hands were joined together. "To our mutual task," Scott said.

They all retired early that night. Maria was sleeping soundly, but still not permitting the Professor any access to her mind. He simply stayed in the study where she was lying on a couch, leaning back in his chair to doze when he needed to. He was going to be with the girl twenty-four hours a day until he was successful in his endeavor. Scott was exhausted, but lay back in his bed, unable to sleep.

He heard his door open. Jean, wearing her negligee, slipped into his bed. She hugged him for dear life, and he cradled her in his arms.

"Oh, Scott-" she said, and he felt her shiver. He caressed her back, and stroked her hair, and finally felt her subside into deep sobs.

"Are you still in pain?" he asked gently. She looked at him, green eyes bright and tear-filled.

"Not really," she said. "It doesn't matter. It was pretty bad for awhile, but there were more important things to worry about."

He grunted his agreement.

"Scott-" Jean said, almost tentatively.

"Yes, Jean?" he replied patiently.

"-Here." His door opened telekinetically, and the camera that she had used to take his jock strap photo floated into the room. The door closed again gently. "Please, Scott. Take this. The film hasn't been developed. Destroy it-and the camera, too, if that is your wish. And please, accept my apology."

"You needn't apologize for anything, Jean," Scott said. "Ever."

"But I do," she said. "I wanted to get you, and I did. But it was a hollow victory. I just couldn't keep the camera." She sighed. "I guess I don't have the killer instinct after all."

Scott smiled. "You're very different from Maria. She'd have kept the camera until the Day of Judgment."

"Oh, Maria is incorrigible!" Jean said, a little cross. "A very bad influence on me."

"Terrible," he said, a smile in his tone. She looked at him.

"Scott-did you know I was going to do this?"

"I was pretty sure you would," he said. "I know you, Jeannie. You were capable of waging a campaign like this-and carrying it through to a successful conclusion. But when the chips were down, I felt that you didn't really want to keep a blackmail photo of me." He paused. "I was going to give you a couple of weeks-and then, to be honest, I was going to do something about it, if you didn't. I'm glad you did."

She snuggled even closer to him. "I'm glad too, Scott. That really was a tight spot we put you in-in the closet, I mean."

He sighed. "I know. I thought surrendering was better than any other option right then, because I was sure even then that you wouldn't be ruthless enough to take full advantage of your-victory."

"You thought all that through when you were-so full of yourself?"

Scott laughed. "Jean!"

"Well-were you?"

"Pretty sure-despite, yes, being 'full of myself'."

"Oh, my." She kissed him on his cheek. "Well, then-you were really master of the situation all along. Delighted to hear it."

Scott chuckled. "Hardly! Barely adequate controller of the situation describes it better."

"Whatever." She looked at him seriously, and the green of her eyes in the dark reminded him of a cat. "Scott-I enjoyed that-at least, until my conscience got the better of me. But you must, always, let me know if, when, I cross the line. I'm not talking about your role as leader of the X-Men. I'm talking about us. Of you as my man, and me as your woman. I never want to do anything that will shame either of us."

"If you ever do, believe me, Jean, I'll let you know. You've never come close yet."

"Good." She put his hand on her breast, and pressed it there. "Is that a good position for you to get some sleep, or will it make your poor arm numb?"

"You're staying here?"

"Yes. For now, anyway."

"Then I'll take my chances."

"Good night, my love."

"Good night, my love."

Maria was alone, in the very middle of the Universe. She knew it was the middle because in every direction she looked, she could see stars. Going into infinity. She was the center of all existence, and everywhere she looked there was no sentience, no life, just the cold of space and the bright lights of the stars. She was the only mind, the only will, in all of creation.

She waited a long time. A very long time. Perhaps an eternity. Millions, billions, of years passed as she stood at the center of creation, thinking all by herself. Sometimes she reached out with her mind, to see if any other intelligence was out there, but always she reached back before any contact was made. Other minds were going to hurt her, after all. She must never forget that.

Sometimes she sensed a mind probing for her, asking for her. She was always able to avoid this mind, pull away whenever it approached. But as the eons passed, she sometimes wished she could talk to this mind. It would be good to talk, she'd feel in moments of weakness. And this mind seemed benevolent. If only-

No. The benevolence was a trap. That way lay only all the things she had gone away to escape. She didn't want to risk it again.

But the ages passed, and passed some more, and finally she tentatively reached out. She didn't want to stay here forever. Her desire to move from the center of the Universe finally was greater than the fears that brought her here. Those fears-they were a wall of fire that she had to pass through in order to live again. She had been running away for so very, very long-

Tears were in her eyes, but at last she reached out to the probing mind. Here. Here I am.

Charles awoke with a start. It was mid-morning, and he realized with a curse that he had fallen asleep at dawn, and had remained so for hours. He blinked, and suddenly realized that Maria was open to his psychic probing.

Maria? he asked, and yes, there unquestionably was a response.

Here I am, Professor. The thoughts were faint and still unfocused, indeed still panic-stricken. He tried to reassure her as well as he could.

Maria. Do not try to do anything you do not want to. I am here, if you wish to talk. For now, that is all. Be at complete peace.

Yes, sir.

And that was all for some time, as Charles probed gently on the surface of her thoughts, trying to send her as much reassurance as he could. After awhile, she contacted him again.

Am I alive, Professor?

Of course, Maria.

Oh. That's good, I suppose. A short pause, then: Professor-what happened?

Not now, Maria.

No, it's OK, sir. I know something bad happened. It had to do with Anna, didn't it?

You are comfortable speaking of this, Maria?

That's a silly question, sir. Of course not. I'll never be comfortable speaking about this. But I'm not going to remain in a catatonic state for the rest of my life, either. I guess I have too much vitality for that.

Charles almost laughed out loud. I guess you do, Maria.

I guess everyone freaked out whan they saw her.

That's a pretty good way of putting it, Maria.

Yes, sir.

Charles felt a weariness inside him, a mental and physical exhaustion brought on by the nearly twenty-four hour ordeal he had just passed through-perhaps the worst psychic ordeal he had ever known, certainly the worst since his encounter with Farouk in Cairo. Maria could sense it.

Sir-are you all right?

No, Maria, I cannot say that I am. The past day has been a great strain on me.

She seemed to pause, to think this over. I can see that, sir, she finally answered. Sir-am I in any trouble?

Charles was astonished by the question. Why on earth should you be in any trouble, Maria?

You know, sir-not telling you about 'Anna' from the start.

My dear child! Of course not!

Good, she thought with an almost laser-like clarity that made Charles smile to himself.

Maria-I can't describe the relief and joy I feel, to hear you come back to yourself. I wasn't sure that you ever would.

Just from one day?

Even so. You were in such a terrible place- I didn't know what to expect.

Sir-who is Gabbie Haller?

Charles was unable to contain his astonishment. How on earth did you come up with her name?

I heard it in your head just now, sir. You once tried to do with her what you did with me. You succeeded, too. But it took a lot longer.

The circumstances were somewhat different, Maria. Gabbie was a survivor of the Nazi death camps. She had been in a mental coma for many years. But she was willing to let me in and heal her, even so. I was able to help her then. In your case, you kept me out completely. I franlly did not think anyone could do that as thoroughly as you managed to do. You hid yourself down to your core. I could have broken through, but only at the risk of causing unimaginable psychic damage.

Yes, sir. But I had an advantage Gabbie didn't have-I had you, sir. And the X-Men. I knew you were there for me, all of you. Somewhere on some level I couldn't even acknowledge, I felt all of you-your love, your concern. I had that, and I knew I did. It was enough for me not to get so lost that I'd never find my way back.

Charles bowed in his chair, tears in his eyes. Those words, all by themselves, were enough to vindicate all that he had done here with his students. Thank you, Maria.

Thank you, sir. I don't want you to think this is over. Things are never that easy. It's going to take time. I'm still very much suffering from shock and trauma. But I'm going to be OK in the end.

Yes, my dear, I know.

Good. I think I'm going to turn my mind off now, if you'll excuse me. I'm tired.

Of course. Sleep well, Maria.

You too, sir. You seem beat.

Charles lay back in his chair, and slept for nine straight hours.

Charles Xavier looked down at Maria, sleeping very soundly now. The girl's breathing was strong and regular. The physical after-effects of the Thinker's assault seemed to be wearing off, as they had for Jean. But the trauma remained, and she would not be shaking that off so quickly. Even now, his gentlest probings of the girl's mind sent shudders through her entire psychic foundation. He was walking on eggshells. He still could not afford the slightest mistake. In retrospect, he was glad that he had not forced the issue with Jean concerning the secret Maria was still holding back.

He shook his head sadly. That secret-he felt he could guess it now. Seeing "Anna"-much now made sense to him. Poor Maria-and poor Hank. My God. The fates had not been kind to this girl. Could she be helped? God alone knew. But he would give her every ounce of support he could, whatever the outcome. But he must never make the mistake of seeming to pity her. That would be the last straw for her.

He leaned back in his wheelchair, suddenly overcome by a wild desire to just stand the hell up and walk away from it. Those feelings had been less and less common as the time passed-but they still haunted him, once in awhile. The others had no idea how much he really hated his chair, and he was careful not to let them realize it. He wondered if it was worth his time to keep working on his artificial braces. Better to let things stay as they are, not to get his hopes up?

To hell with it. This wasn't the time for such musings. Maria stirred, and Charles gently entered her mind. He sensed her recognizing him, and suddenly, he felt some of her defenses dropping.

Hi, Professor.

Hello, Maria. How are you feeling?

Tired, sir. Real tired. But I'll live.

I rather think you shall, at that. I'm very proud of you, my dear.

Thanks, sir. I guess. It's weird-

Yes, Maria?

It's only been a little over a day in the real world. But for me subjectively-I feel like I've been to hell and back. That whole ages of the world have come and gone. But at the same time, that it really hasn't been that long, either. It's difficult to explain.

That's a perefectly natural reaction to psychic trauma, Maria. The very first evil mutant I ever encountered was a man named Farouk, in Cairo. He, too, was a telepath. At the height of our conflict, he told me that physically, death would be instantaneous. But mentally, it would be an eternal agony, seeming to last forever. He meant that fate for me, but reaped it himself. There is no prodigy that the mind cannot perform-especially in extreme conditions. And your mind has been in a very extreme condition, indeed, these past thirty-six hours.

Yes, sir... Professor? Is Jean OK?

She's fine, Maria. And very concerned about you. She has been here often to see how you are doing. As have all the others.

And they don't hate me for keeping 'Anna' from them?

My dear girl- Charles was unable to keep his emotion out of his thoughts, and he could sense Maria receiving them, and he was glad of that. Maria-we all love you. There has been some sympathy for your-predicament. I know how much you hate that, but it's a very human reaction, especially from those who love you. And there has been a great deal of anger directed at the Thinker, for what he did to Jean and yourself. Above all there has been concern, and hope for your recovery. I feel this so strongly in the psychic atmosphere of the Mansion that it crowds out everything else.

I'm glad, sir. And, Professor-?

Yes, Maria?

There's something else. Something I want you and the others to know. You are my family, and I'm going to confide totally in you all.

Charles was unable to respond for a moment, unable to trust the rush of emotion he was experiencing. He was now convinced that he had guessed correctly. Yes, Maria. Whatever you wish.