Author's Note: The next update will be the last chapter and a brief epilogue will probably follow after that. Thank you to all that's been reading the story. Even when it sucked, the writing was bad, and the wait for updates was looooong in coming. There were so many times I didn't want to finish this story and someone's review(s) nudged me on. (Quick Tip: If you want your favorite fic-writers to continue writing a story that you enjoy, be sure to show them love with reviews. It is the only reward they get for taking their time to pen the stories you enjoy) This was a BIG learning process for me, and it taught me much as far as writing fan fic goes. Thanks for the kind words and reviews. Very sorry for this long a/n. I'm done :D
- 37 –
It hadn't seemed so to her at first, but now Ororo was under the impression that the dinner Charles had treated her and Remy to had not been simply to fill the emptiness of their rumbling stomachs.
Not entirely.
In actuality, she figured it had been a way for Charles to ease her into whatever it was he planned to spring on her once they arrived in Westchester. Softening her up a bit by feeding her, perhaps? At least that's how it seemed. Especially now, as the sleek town car, slowly entered through the yawning gates of a wildly unfamiliar estate.
Add to that imposing, she was able to note as they came closer upon the house. Just what was Charles up to?
Anxious, restlessly sitting in the back of the car, Ororo leaned towards the tinted window and looked through the glass.
"Oh my—whose estate is this?" she wondered out loud, falling momentarily silent afterward. Her eyes located a brass plaque mounted beside the gates. She strained to read it, but wasn't able to see clearly enough what was written on it. Instead, she focused in on the large emblem that was engraved on the front of the gate, forming a bold, shiny "X" in the center, surrounded by a thick circle.
"X for Xavier," Ororo murmured to herself.
Face shining with realization, Ororo tore her eyes from it, and stared at Charles.
"This is your estate," she intoned softy. "The X on the front gates . . . You own all this." The soft tone of her voice carried with it a hint of wonder.
Ororo continued staring at her father, but wasn't able to make out the unreadable expression on his face. It was mixed to her, and she couldn't rightly put a finger on any of the emotions he seemed to reflect. Charles answered her with a slight nod of his head.
"Yes, I do. And you haven't even seen the half of it."
Ororo made a small grunt of agreement. "I'm sure I haven't."
He looked as if he was excited, but also anxious. Pleased, yet with some trepidation. It made her wonder—why? Should she, too, be disconcerted about this whole business? 'Ro gazed at her father levelly, giving the impression she was working out something in her mind. She turned back again to peer out of the window.
Ororo, however, wasn't the only one with ponderings about the strange new estate and all the unanswered questions that surrounded it. Remy had not spoken much since the three of them had left the restaurant, but he too, was interested. Conversation, in general, had been little anyway during the roughly three-hour drive. If either Xavier or Ororo had discussed anything of import during the ride, then he wouldn't have known either way, since he had easily dozed off twenty minutes or so after leaving the restaurant. The inescapable effect of a potent combination of good food, a full stomach, and a comfortable ride in the luxury cars backseat nestled near Ororo, lulling him into a quiet slumber.
The situation taking place before him presently was between father and daughter, Remy figured. With that in mind, the Cajun firmly resolved to keep his own opinions and comments to a minimum. He watched both Ororo and Charles carefully, but kept silent with his own observations, doing his darnest to let the chips fall where they may, and let to allow whatever happened between father and daughter to pan out accordingly. All in all, he kept his burning curiosities to himself. Still, he felt an inkling of concern, wondering what was going on in his girl's mind right now, and what conclusions she had drawn, if any.
The Lincoln rolled up the drive, coming to a stop at the front entrance. It still had not registered with her just how massive the house and grounds were, the mansion sitting on several sprawling acres. Neither she nor Remy had noticed the workers milling about the front until they both stepped out of the car, pausing in their gawking to help Charles from the back of the vehicle. He got out, and sunk into his retrieved wheelchair with an "ah", rolling up alongside Ororo and Remy.
"So, here we are at last," said Xavier.
He grinned softly at the couple, both standing with their mouths slightly, wondrously gazing up at the palatial home.
"Well, Remy, Ororo . . . what do you think so far?"
"Think?"
Remy's black/red eyes widened. "Mon Dieu."
"Well, I for one, think I am confused," Ororo interjected. "Are you moving here? Is this a new place your—?"
She left off, her forehead creased in confusion.
"Mmmm, in a manner," Xavier hummed responsively.
"Look big 'nuff t' be a school," Remy chimed.
Xavier smiled at him. "It is. Or will be, rather."
"What? Really?"
Ororo whirled around and faced her father.
He nodded. And then, suddenly, invitingly, threw his arms wide open.
"Welcome to Charles Xavier's Institute for Higher Learning!"
The walked on through the halls of the near empty mansion, their footfalls echoing with every step. Ororo could only gawk in awe at its incredible interior, carefully taking in the beautiful moldings, and interior designs. She gripped Remy's hand tight, while Xavier took the lead. Guiding them through the wide halls and rooms that—according to her father—would be future classrooms. Actual furniture was scarce in nearly all the mansions rooms, except for Charles' office, (which he'd told her was completely furnished and functional), and the future cafeteria, already dotted with cylindrical lunch tables and accompanying chairs. The sparse furnishings outside of those two rooms were few, notwithstanding some landscape portraits decking the walls, and a couple plush lounge chairs and sofas in a sitting room, white sheets draped over them protectively. The hardwood floors were polished and shiny, along with the glistening, modernized kitchen, with its gleaming, stainless steel appliances and marbled counter-tops.
Having practically seen the entire inside (including the spacious attic loft) Charles led them out back of the mansion, where several workers on ladders labored unidentifiably on something atop the roof. They stepped unto yet another veranda, looking out and discovering the basketball court, and a pool house beyond that. Needless to say, with the various shrubberies and neat landscaping, the view was impressive. The grounds themselves were gorgeous.
"This place . . . dad, it's gorgeous." Ororo waved broadly at her surroundings. "The flooring, the elevators, the different levels . . . it's all amazing."
"Absolutement. 'Roro's right, Charles. Dis place is somethin'," Remy agreed with a nod.
"Thank you. I'm glad you both think so."
"I can only imagine what it will look like when you're finished. When everything is furnished and setup in the classrooms. It'll be extraordinary."
"I believe it will," Xavier responded proudly. "And I knew you'd think so. I cannot tell you how excited I was to show you all this. I had purchased this place nearly four months before you even left for New Orleans. And I've kept it a secret, since then. Moira was the only other one who knew about this. I wanted you to come back and see it for yourself. And I'm glad Remy could join us in sharing this moment, as well."
"Remy glad he was able t', mon ami."
Remy saluted Charles, and Charles nodded in his direction, beaming happily.
"You've been a busy man, huh? A very busy man," muttered Ororo softly, still staring out at the beautiful grounds from where they stood on the veranda.
"So . . . " She exhaled, reluctantly tearing away from the charming view to face her father.
"This is going to be a school for mutant children."
"You are correct. I, and the rest of the staff and faculty here, will provide all the usual classes and courses that any other institute would, but additionally, uniquely, about their mutation, and their powers. How to better control them – methods, techniques, and of course, using them ethically. We will properly educate them so that they learn and understand who and what they are, and when they leave this place, they'll be the better for it."
"And, to provide a safe haven for them to discover all of this in," Ororo voiced, instinctively. Knowingly grasping her father's concept, with clarity that surprised even her. Charles must have thought so as well because he smiled broadly at her and nodded deeply.
"Indeed. That is my dream—my hope."
"And Jean? Where is she involved in this?"
"I have asked her to be part of the medical staff, as well as teach a class or two."
"And Moira?"
"She'll be teaching one of the classes, but primarily helping with the science department and laboratory research. Her, along with another doctor that I plan to hire to assist in research."
"Who?" she inquired out of curiosity.
"I have not chosen one of yet. There are many brilliant doctors that qualify but, one I've been considering is your colleague, Dr. Henry McCoy. I spoke with him over the phone after you gave me his card and we've discussed the position. Nothing is set in stone, but he seemed very excited about the prospect."
"Oh my goodness!" gasped Ororo. "Well, I guess he did! Hank raved about you. He practically begged me to give you his card the last dinner before we left."
"How humble of him, since with his genius and résumé, I should be begging him."
"He'd be pleased to know you said that."
Ororo smiled. "Remy, love, do you hear this?"
"I hear it, chèrie; all o' it sounds amazin'."
And it did. Of that he was sincere. Still, there was something that had yet to be answered. And just as if she had sensed his feelings on it, Ororo's smile faded slowly, the excited look on her face dimmed, morphing to one of seriousness. They'd seen the mansion, learned about Moira, Jean, and possibly Hank all having a part of the dream.
Only one unknown variable was left in the picture that was slowly, but surely, coming together.
Ororo smiled gently at Remy and squeezed his hand. She turned back to her father before asking the million dollar question:
"Now . . . just what do I have to do with all this, dad?"
Ororo and Remy looked on quietly, patiently, waiting to hear the answer.
Xavier inhaled deeply, beckoning them forward with a gesture of his hand.
"Come, we'll go into the office and speak."
Back in the office, silence stretched. Her mind so preoccupied with thoughts that she couldn't fully appreciate the new offices sophisticated aesthetic. Or the feel of the soft cushion beneath her.
She just wanted to know.
"I believe I've kept you in the dark long enough, waiting for answers," Charles spoke. "I won't delay in asking what it is I want of you."
"Much obliged, dad."
Ororo shrugged a shoulder. "So, what is it then?"
". . . I want you to be a part of the staff here at the Institute – with me, Moira, and Jean."
"Wha—what?"
Both pairs of eyes held affixed the others in a mutual stare-off between father and daughter. Ororo's eyes blinked rapidly in disbelief, her countenance filled full of surprise, wonder, and shock.
Across from her, Remy's eyes stretched, his scarlet orbs resembling saucers. Of all the possible scenarios and conclusions he'd drawn since Ororo had first told him about Charles' request for her return home, this was one he had not imagined. With a wary glance in her direction, it was clear to him she hadn't imagined it either. She sat gaping.
"I won't even bother asking you if you're serious, dad, because I know you are. It's just hard to believe."
His dark brows furrowed, wrinkling his forehead. "That I want my family—my daughter, to share in my dream of providing a safe haven for young mutants? A place for them to learn and grow without fear of hostility? Rejection? That I want you to be a part of it?"
'Ro scoffed. "There is more to it than that and you know it. There are far-reaching implications here, which would not only affect me. Dad, have you forgotten that I'm already part of a staff? In a clinic? In New Orleans?" asked Ororo.
"Yes, I am fully aware of all this, Ororo. Be assured, I've considered it all. And that's exactly what I'm asking you to do now."
"To consider being a part of the school?"
"Exactly."
"Doing what, precisely?"
Charles brightened considerably at the question, causing Ororo to gaze narrowly at him circumspectly.
"Doing the same thing you are doing in New Orleans at Valhalla."
At that, Ororo frowned, confused. "Psychiatry?"
"Yes."
Her bewildered expression eased, replaced by genuine curiosity. She sighed softly and sat back in the chair, intrigued.
"I don't understand."
By now it was late afternoon, and the sun had started to set, casting an orange glow on the room and the people in it, emanating from the large window behind Xavier's desk. The light shining behind him cast his face in a light shadow. Quietly, he approached them in his chair, closing the distance between them and drawing closer.
"As you've probably guessed, there are numerous prospective students for the school . . . "
"Go on."
"One of those students is a girl particularly close to Moira. Her name is Rahne Sinclair. She was born in Kinross, Scotland, same as Moira, to a catholic priest, virtually unwanted by both her father and her mother."
"What is her mutation?"
"Lycanthropy."
Remy and Ororo cast uneasy glances between each other.
"We're listening."
He continued. "Her father was an alcoholic, his name is Reverend Craig. He was cruel to her, and extremely unkind. Needless to say, her upbringing was difficult."
"Poor girl."
"Her father's relentless mistreatment made her—"
"Repressed, introverted, incredibly shy?"
Charles smirked at his daughter's intuitiveness. "Exactly."
Ororo nodded understandingly. Xavier sighed. "Her powers manifested when she was thirteen. When it did, her father and some of his fanatical followers gathered together and attempted to perform an exorcism on her by burning her at the stake to get rid of the 'devil' in her.
"Oh my . . ."
"Mon Dieu . . ."
Both exclaimed at once.
"She morphed into her wolf state and attempted to escape them by running away. One of her pursuers shot at her and grazed her with a bullet. She continued trying to run, but was inexperienced with her powers and weakened by the injury. Before being captured, she happened upon Moira, collapsing finally and reverting back to her normal form. Moira helped her out the village and took her to her home, taking care of her and treating her wounds. The young Miss Sinclair was very grateful, as the kindness was foreign to her, and unexpected. She and Moira bonded, to this day they're very close."
"That's wonderful," said Ororo softly.
"Rahne still suffers from the mental anguish inflicted by her father, however. Moira tells me she regularly has intense bouts of melancholia and self-loathing. Rahne told Moira that whenever she looks into a mirror all she sees is the devil her father told her she was all those years."
A tear nearly escaped from the corner of Ororo's eye and she swiped it away swiftly before it fell.
"Those are the types of students that will be coming through these doors. With pasts and stories similar to Rahne Sinclair's. I won't beat around the bush. I want your expertise. I want your skills, and more importantly, I want my future students to know your compassion. You, yourself, being a mutant, will be able to empathize, added on top of your therapeutic skills. That's why I want you here. Why I need you here, Ororo. Because they'll need you here."
Overwhelmed was a fitting word to describe what she was feeling. Another was touched. Ororo turned and looked at Remy, really looking at him for the first time since they'd come into the office, wiping away the dampness in her eyes before directly finding Remy's own. She reached out a hand towards him, and he caught it half-way. He bent and placed a kiss on the back of her palm. Ororo sniffed. The smile she gave him tender.
"Ororo."
Xavier gently interrupted. "This is an incredibly large proposition I've laid in your lap," he told her. "But I want you to take all you've seen today, all you've learned, and all we've discussed, and consider it very strongly. Will you do that for me, please?
She nodded. "Of course, dad." She sniffed again. "Of course I will."
Ororo had left the office, saying she was going to stroll through the mansion a second time before they were to leave, headed back for Baltimore. Remy, however, stayed—at Charles' behest. When they were the only ones in the room, Xavier cleared his throat, speaking up.
"I hope you didn't feel ignored while Ororo and I talked, Remy."
"Non, non."
Remy vigorously shook his head.
"Yo' her père, she's yo' daughter. Ya'll had impo'tant t'ings t' discuss. I don' mind."
"Yes, but . . . Ororo is your lover."
Remy hesitated a moment, proceeding cautiously. "Oui."
"And if she chooses to accept a position here, in Westchester, when the school opens, no doubt, this will affect your relationship. I know this is something you and Ororo must discuss personally, but I hope you'd feel comfortable sharing your thoughts with me about this. Please, feel free to be honest with me. What are your thoughts and feelings on this, Remy?"
He was unprepared to answer, because he was unprepared for the question. It was too soon to provide an answer, one of any substance anyway. Xavier was right—he did need to speak with Ororo about it. But what, at this moment, could he tell her father? Only the truth.
"I honestly, don' kno', Charles. I t'ink wha' yo' plannin' is très incroyable, I really do. An' I t'ink 'Ro would prob'ly love it, I saw it in her eyes while ya'll were talkin' . . . but . . . I dunno where dat would leave me an' her . . . an'—"
He paused. Shoving a hand through his hair and sighed deeply. "—An' I can' lose her. I jus'—Remy could never accept dat. I don' kno' where dat leaves us."
The older man nodded solemnly. Inside, feeling a ghost of pride in behalf of his daughter. And towards the young man sitting in front of him – respect.
"I shouldn't be askin' you this when you haven't even had a chance to speak with Ororo, and I'm sorry. I—I do not want you to feel as if I'm deliberately intruding on what you've built with Ororo. On the contrary; I had been executing this vision long before I knew of your relationship with Ororo. You and she were a delightful surprise—to all of us."
"I kno'. I don' feel dat way at all. No worries dere."
"Good. Because I meant it when I said you were a 'delightful surprise', especially since . . . I believe there is a place for you here as well . . ."
The Cajun froze, lifting his head slowly, meeting Xavier's look of calm passivity.
"Que?"
She'd found her way back up to the lonely attic loft. There was something about it, she couldn't name directly, but she liked it. She'd came up after leaving Remy and Xavier in the office, and opened the doors to the small balcony in the loft, standing out on it while a gentle breeze passed through and ruffled the white hair of head in the growing darkness outside, fluttering her skirts.
Night had completely fallen when Remy came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her, and nestled his prickly chin on the soft skin of her shoulder.
"Mmm. 'S nice up here, non?"
"My thoughts exactly," she chuckled softly.
He smiled, and they both stood quietly for several minutes. Breathing gently, comfortably resting in the mutual embrace.
"Me an' Charles had a little talk," he told her.
She turned to look over her shoulder at him. "Yeah?"
"Mm-hm. It was . . . interestin'."
"All of this has been, yeah?"
"Y' right on dat, chèrie."
Again, they fell silent. Remy quickly kissed her shoulder and grabbed one of her hands.
"Come on, chère. 'S time t' be headin' down, we got some t'ings t' discuss once we get back."