Chapter 3: Help Me Hold on to You

Annabeth walked cautiously through the mansion and tried to make sure her eyes weren't popping out of her skull.

After sending Rogue with another young man, Ororo had told Annabeth that she was taking her to meet the supposed Headmaster of the school, Professor Charles Xavier.

She'd been in her share of strange places. She was a daughter of the literal Goddess of Wisdom. It just was strange to see such abilities not hidden at all.

There was a kid who walked casually through walls, a girl who made pink sparks fly out of her fingers, and one who made wind fly through the corridors. Ororo and Scott led her through the halls, though the woman did spare a reprimand for a few of the children who were apparently using their powers indecently.

Annabeth felt her hands involuntarily twitch towards her knife, her shoulders tightening. She was out of her element here.

Finally, they arrived at two large wooden doors that Ororo pushed open. Inside it was a bald man in a wheelchair who, despite his small stature, seemed to radiate power. She could feel it the second she stepped into the room. Besides that, or maybe due to that, she didn't feel that he meant her harm.

Of course, that didn't mean she let the tension move out of her shoulders. She still didn't trust these people.

"Ah, Storm, Scott, I see you've returned. Who is this young lady?" The man said.

"This is Annabeth." Ororo told him. "Annabeth, this is the Professor." She turned to him without any more preamble. "They knew we were coming. They sent Sabretooth to catch us."

Annabeth couldn't help raising an eyebrow. Sabretooth?

"Annabeth helped assist us in taking care of him. The two mutants you found are here. One of them, along with Annabeth's friend, is in the infirmary. I sent Rogue with Bobby."

The man nodded, but his blue eyes never left Annabeth's face. "Excellent work, Storm." He smiled at Annabeth. "It's a pleasure, Annabeth." He had a slight British accent.

He held out his hand, and she shook it cautiously. She rubbed her temples afterwards; her migraine was growing.

Suddenly, the Professor's eyes sharpened, and Annabeth felt something she had never felt before. It was like a presence, reaching out, and she could... she could feel it... with her mind. It was coming from the man in front of her.

The presence touched her mind, and her heart started racing—she felt laid bare towards this man.

"Get out." She struggled to take a breath.

Storm looked at her. "Annabeth, what—"

"Scott, Ororo, leave us." The Professor said sharply.

"Get out of my head!" Her hands flew to her forehead: it felt like a barrier had been unlocked—a glass wall had shattered and suddenly she could see.

Suddenly everything was deafeningly loud. She could sense students outside, worrying about their next exam, could feel Scott's retreating back and his shock at being sent away, thousands and thousands of disjointed thoughts, and she could hear them all. It felt as if her consciousness was being shoved into a corner while everything else clamored for the spot she had left.

"What did you do to me?" She managed to gasp.

The old man's face seemed to swim before her. "Annabeth, I need you to breathe." He had wheeled his chair closer to her, his blue eyes intense. 'Concentrate on my voice. Your mind is overwhelmed.'

Yeah, it is! She thought hysterically. Some part of her recognized that his mouth wasn't moving, she was hearing him in her mind.

'Breathe, Annabeth.'

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a ragged breath. There was so much pain.

'-Mom doesn't want me—'

'-what's wrong with me, why can't I just be normal—'

'-I want to go home-'

'Annabeth.' The Professor's voice was clear in her mind, and she latched on to it like a lifejacket given to a drowning man. 'Imagine a barrier in your mind, separating you from all else. Your thoughts are your own, theirs are for themselves only. Focus on the barrier.'

With a shock, she found she couldn't tell which thoughts were hers. Desperately she visualized a wall spanning high around her head, and the influx of thoughts started to fade.

"Yes, exactly." The man in front of her said.

The thoughts seemed more distant, now. Growing more confident, she visualized her wall slamming all the thoughts out of her mind.

She took a shuddering breath and collapsed into a chair. It was silent. She was Annabeth Chase, and it was silent.

A thought that was hers and hers only was deafening. She was a mutant.

"I must apologize, Miss Chase." Charles Xavier was saying gently. "I'm afraid my delving into your mind activated your dormant abilities. You almost lost yourself."

She took a breath. "Were those—?"

"The thoughts of others, yes. It can be quite overwhelming if you do not know how to pick and choose between those you want to hear."

She nodded distractedly. But this doesn't make sense, she thought. Mutant abilities are activated near puberty and in stressful situations. I've had my life threatened countless times—why haven't they shown up yet?

"You're a telepath, Annabeth." The professor continued. "That is very rare, even among mutant communities. Only I and one other person that I know of have the ability—and she has it to a much lesser degree than you. You are very powerful, Annabeth."

"You can read my mind?" She asked suddenly.

HIs expression was unreasonable. "I can."

"Don't ever come into my head again." She said, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. "Do you understand me? Never."

"At this point, you can stop me with the wall that you've built." He said calmly. "But I will not attempt to do so again. Annabeth, you can be extraordinarily powerful with proper training. Let me help you."

"I don't even know what this place is." She told him. "Where's my boyfriend? I'd like to get out of here."

"Of course, if you leave, we will not try to stop you, but—"

"Where is he?" She hadn't meant to snap, but she felt like her emotions had been strung out one by one, and her head ached. She had to have some time to think the implications of this over.

He glanced out the window to the children playing basketball outside. "Storm will show you to the infirmary."

Annabeth nodded and walked out, but she felt as if she could feel the Professor's stare boring into her back, even when the door closed. Would she have to watch what she thought, now? If he could read her mind, he would know everything about her. The gods and their existence, Tartarus, and her deepest fears. How could someone manipulate her if they knew all of that?

The infirmary was in the basement. The room that Percy was staying in was a round, cold room with a single bed in the center surrounded by monitors. He was still unconscious. A pretty woman with red hair was tending him. Almost as soon as Annabeth walked into the room, she knew that this was the other telepath that the Professor had been speaking of.

She wasn't sure how she knew—but she could sense everyone's thoughts now. By making sure that her walls were always up, the thoughts were much more distant, and she could function without feeling like she was being beaten down.

This woman's thoughts were crisper. There was a difference to them, somehow.

"Jean Grey." She greeted Annabeth.

Annabeth nodded to her. "Annabeth Chase." She ignored the woman's discerning gaze. She got the feeling that she had sensed the same thing about her. "Will Percy be alright?"

"I believe he will. He was incredibly lucky. His cuts were shallow, but he broke three of his ribs from the force of the impact. He was already unconscious, but I gave him medicine before I set his ribs. They will still take time to heal, though."

Annabeth sighed. "How long?"

Jean Grey hesitated. "I would say four weeks at the most, for full recovery. Three, depending on how fast he heals. I would take him to an ordinary hospital, but... at this point I think that moving him will detract from the healing process."

Annabeth counted on three weeks. Even without ambrosia, demigods could heal faster than ordinary humans. But that meant that she was staying here for three weeks, in this strange place. Everyone here seemed innocent enough, but it could all be a lie. The professor had tried to read her mind, after all.

Leaving never crossed her mind. This was Percy. She would stay with him.

"Is there a place I can stay?" She asked Jean. "While he's recovering."

Jean looked sympathetic. "Of course, Annabeth. I'll have to talk to the Professor to get you a room. If you'll come with me—"

"I'd prefer to stay here." Annabeth said sharply. She inhaled and tried again. "I'm sorry, it's been a long day. I would prefer to stay with Percy if that's all right."

Whether it was all right or not, Annabeth wanted to stay away from Professor Charles Xavier for a while.

Jean inclined her head, her eyes searching. "All right. I'll return when we have your room prepared."

"Thank you."

Jean left, the automatic doors closing behind her. Annabeth dropped into a chair next to Percy. He looked so peaceful while he slept. There was none of that haunted gaze in his eyes.

What did I get us into?

Annabeth's room was cold.

That was the first thing she noticed. It certainly looked comfortable enough, with a queen-sized bed, a large closet, and a window looking out to the school grounds. But it was cold, and Annabeth was scared. Scared for Percy, scared to be in this place, and afraid of her abilities.

For years she had bemoaned her only powers to be her intelligence, but she had long moved past that insecurity. She had proved herself to be valuable to the team, and most importantly to herself. But now this happened, and all her carefully built walls were thrown down.

She sat down in her bed. Cautiously, she pulled down her own imaginary walls that had enabled her to function.

Instantly, her mind was flooded. Holding back a yell, she threw the wall back up again, and the voices disappeared. She hated that she had to rely on an imaginary barrier to keep herself sane. What if her concentration slipped?

Falling asleep was a struggle, but when she managed it, she was immediately plunged into a dream.

"Annabeth." A stern woman with dark hair and sharp grey eyes looked down at her in a white temple.

Annabeth didn't kneel to Athena. "Mother."

As always, Athena's sharp eyes seemed to read Annabeth's soul. A bundle of emotions rose in Annabeth's chest—resentment, anger, and buried even deeper was a desire to please. The latter made her even angrier.

There was no love. Never love, not in this relationship.

"You have discovered your... abilities." Athena said, her face impassive.

"Yes." A hundred questions rose to the forefront of her mind, but she was silent, and waited.

"I assume you are wondering why your mutant gene did not rise in you until now." Her mother said. Did Athena seem almost... uncomfortable? "The answer is that I suppressed them."

"You what?" Annabeth took a breath and modulated her tone. "Why did you do that?"

"It would have... complicated matters." Athena said, her eyes no longer focusing on Annabeth, like she was looking at a past that only she could see. "Now, however, suppressing them is no longer possible. You were becoming too strong."

Annabeth licked her lips. "What do you mean, too strong?"

"I mean that having your abilities suppressed the way that I did caused them to be more powerful, and by extension more dangerous, than they would have originally."

Athena sighed. "Annabeth, if you do not receive tutelage about your power, you will almost certainly die. I have never been the most talented at reading the future, but that much is clear."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Nothing." Athena's face was impassionate. "You may make your own decision. After all you have done, you deserve this right."

How can this be my own decision, she thought, frustrated, when you know what I'm about to do?

"Is that it? Mother." She added as an afterthought.

Athena hesitated. "You are treading on dangerous waters, my daughter. Again, your fate is tied with the rest of the world's. Tread carefully."

The goddess blurred, and Annabeth woke—and was immediately bombarded by the thoughts of others, thousands of ideas slamming into her brain.

In a panic, she threw her shields back up, and the voices quieted. She rose slowly and glanced at the clock. It said seven, but after an alarm like that, she didn't think she could sleep any longer.

She checked hesitatingly if her walls were still up. They were—thank goodness for that. Though she supposed she would have noticed if they hadn't been.

She dressed quickly and opened the doors. A few of the children were up and moving around, and the sun was just peeking over the horizon.

Before she knew it, she was striding towards Charles Xavier's office, not fully aware of where her feet were taking her. She pushed open the doors.

The man was sitting in his wheelchair, teaching a physics class, as evidenced by the drawings on the chalkboard. The kids turned to look at her; they looked to be about in seventh grade. Or they would have been.

The lost expressions on their faces reminded her of what she had felt at that age. A twelve-year-old demigod, unsure of her place in the world. Maybe they hadn't been born from Geek gods, but they were having a similar experience just the same.

"Class dismissed." The Professor was saying, his eyes never leaving her face. It only served to make her angrier that he seemed to already know why she was here.

The kids started to quietly pack up. They seemed to be used to people barging in.

When they left, Annabeth strode towards him. "I've decided to stay."

"Oh?" He looked much too knowing for her comfort.

"Jean Grey says that Percy will be in the infirmary for at least three weeks. "She sighed. "Teach how to control this."

The Professor smiled. "Of course."

A/N Thanks for reading! Leave a review if you're willing. Next update will be on Friday.