Chapter 9: Pace Like a Ghost

"Where are we going?" Annabeth asked.

"You'll see." Charles Xavier said vaguely. Logan moved towards the door as well, and the Professor added, "Oh, yes, you should probably come too, Logan."

Annabeth glanced back to Logan, looking for something, but if there was any expression behind those grim eyes, she couldn't see any.

She looked away quickly and kept walking. She shouldn't care that this grizzled man that she had met two days before might have a worse opinion of her.

They arrived at another circular door that Xavier stopped at. A blue light shone scanned his eyes.

"Welcome, Professor."

Not for the first time, Annabeth wondered absently how long he had been a professor for, and if he was really one at all. As they entered the room, she was expecting another normal-sized, white-washed area.

That was notwhat this was.

A long walkway led out into the center of a huge, circular area with a single chair and a helmet placed at the end of the walkway. She stepped carefully, wondering why they hadn't bothered to place safety rails.

"This is Cerebro."

"Creative." Cerebro was Spanish for brain. She could have sworn she heard Logan snicker.

"It certainly is a big, round room," said Logan.

"This machine amplifies my power, allowing me to touch every human being on the globe. Luckily for us—and Rogue—the brainwaves of mutants are different than humans."

"So you'll be able to find her with it." Logan said.

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry, but do you realize the scope of this?" Annabeth burst out. "Every human?"

"And every mutant, yes."

"That's..." She shook her head. "Who built this? You?"

Charles chuckled. "Oh, most certainly not. Quite outside my range of experience, I'm afraid. An associate of mine, Hank McCoy, built it."

"That's incredible." Her mind whirled with the possibilities. Were the brain waves of demigods different than regular humans? Were they different than mutants? Was it possible that Xavier had been finding demigods and just not realizing it?

That was unlikely. Monsters would have attacked if it had happened. Annabeth and Percy were lucky there hadn't been one during their stay here.

"Why don't you just use it to track down Magneto?" She asked.

"I've been trying, but he's using a helmet that can block psionic energy."

She frowned. "What's—"

"I can explain later, Annabeth, but the simple explanation is that mutant abilities will fail against it. For now, we should continue with finding Rogue—"

"Where'd he get the helmet?" Logan interrupted, who clearly had spent all his patience already.

There was the slightest hesitation, but Annabeth caught it. "He acquired it a long time ago, when he wasn't quite as ruthless as he is today. Now, if you'll excuse me..." He placed the clear helmet over his head and closed his eyes.

Annabeth knew the moment he activated it. She couldn't see anything—the tiles on the walls turned reflective, which probably amplified the machine somehow—but the energy emanating from the man multiplied a hundred-fold. It made the hairs on her arms stand up.

Even Logan seemed to feel something. He scratched his chin and muttered something about needing another cigar.

Curious, Annabeth reached out with her mind and touched Charles's.

She was pulled in, and she wondered if this was what being a god felt like.

It was as if another eye had opened, and her senses exploded. If she let down her walls, she could probably sense around the entire school—about one-hundred-twenty yards. This was... this was incredible. And terrifying.

When she'd first gained her telepathy, her mind was overwhelmed, as if too much water had been poured into a glass. This was more like an Olympic-sized swimming pool being dumped into a water balloon all at once. She could barely hang on to her sanity.

She tried to pull out, but in her panic it felt impossible. With a pure survival instinct, she siphoned off an entire world full of people except the school—any closer seemed inconceivable—and curled into a corner of her brain, hoping it would end soon.

'Oh dear.' She heard the wry voice in her head, and the onslaught of thoughts lessened. 'Does this help?'

She recovered enough of her self-control that she was able to pull out, breathing hard. She had a very familiar headache, and her limbs felt like lead. She looked up at the ceiling and wondered how they had been able to build this without everyone seeing a huge orb in the center of a supposed innocent school campus. It was almost like—

Wait. The ceiling?

Belatedly, she realized she was on the ground, and pulled herself up again, resisting the urge to straighten her shirt. Another sharp spike went through her head.

Logan was a half-step away from her, but when he saw her looking his expression turned back into one of skeptical disinterest.

"Happens all the time." She informed him.

He stared at her.

"Well, maybe not all the time, but it's certainly become more frequent lately—"

"She's at the train station." Charles Xavier said suddenly, and they both jumped.

"Where is it?" Logan asked, his intense eyes zeroed in on the Professor.

"A few miles west of here."

Both Logan and Annabeth spun on their heels towards the door.

"Logan, you can't leave the mansion. It's just the opportunity Magneto needs." The man said sharply, and then turned his ice-blue gaze to Annabeth. "And you're in no condition."

"I'm fine," said Annabeth, and then felt herself going pale as a shock of pain radiated from her head to her toes.

He raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"She left because of what I said." Annabeth said at the same time Logan said, "She took off because of me!"

Both scowled at each other. Annabeth tried to stay calm, though the bubble of anxiety in her chest was slowly growing to envelope her stomach, as well. She was so tired.

Logan strode through the circular doors as Xavier said, "We had a deal."

The grizzled man turned sharply and practically snarled. "You haven't fulfilled our deal, so I don't have to stay."

"I'm going with him." Annabeth said firmly.

"Kid, you just collapsed on the floor, and I don't think Rogue wants to see you—"

"This is not helpful." The Professor didn't exactly shout, but they both shut their mouths. "Storm and Cyclops will find her."

Logan and Annabeth looked at each other with identical looks of disbelief on their faces, promptly followed by consternation that they'd looked at each other in the first place.

"Annabeth." Charles Xavier looked at her.

She sighed. She wanted to leave this mansion as much as Logan did, but the part of her that was logical and non-emotional (because emotions only hurt more) realized that it would be almost certainly a terrible idea for her to go. And... her headaches probably weren't a very good sign.

Logan clearly didn't like it, but he nodded—though Annabeth noticed a gleam in his eyes. She didn't comment on it, because if it couldn't be her that would go and find Rogue, he would be the next best option.

Xavier wheeled out of the room, and with one glance at Cerebro, Annabeth followed.

Annabeth managed to make it to the Professor's study before collapsing.

It had been a very long week. Charles Xavier had led her up to his study, and honestly, she had felt too tired to argue. The adrenaline rush that seemed to have been keeping her alert for the past few hours had faded into embers as her sleepless night weighed down on her. She couldn't remember the last time she had gotten a full seven hours of sleep.

Well—that wasn't entirely true, but she had a hard time thinking about Before Tartarus. That life was ages ago. One girl had fallen into that pit, and another woman had crawled out.

She registered the Professor wheeling in behind her and her head spiked as she sat up.

Why was she even thinking about this? This was why she always had to have something to do, because then she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts. That always seemed to lead to Tartarus and the wars. Another dull throb seared her.

It had been a terrible idea to look into Cerebro, and it was only the top of quite the list of bad decisions that had brought her to this point. Curiosity killed the cat, and there was no satisfaction to bring her back this time. She was Annabeth Chase, the Daughter of Athena. Everyone in camp knew that their fearless tactician didn't make mistakes… until she did.

It seemed like a long time before she managed to pull herself out of her own head and drag her walls up again. When she did, Charles Xavier was reading a book behind his desk. He had just… sat there. Without interrogating her. She was normally watchful of what she said, but her guard had been down. He could have gotten some answers. But he hadn't.

She noticed that he looked tired, too.

"You've been doing excellent at keeping your mental barriers up, Annabeth. I haven't felt anything from you." He said.

"I've had more practice than you would expect." She said and then flinched. Even if she was tired, there was no excuse for carelessness. She would take some ambrosia, and then she would be fine. She was always fine.

She wished that Percy had been the only one affected by Tartarus.

"I haven't expected a lot concerning you." He replied softly.

"I get that a lot."

"I can imagine."

There was more uncomfortable silence. Annabeth sighed. "Professor, you can just say it."

"That it was a terrible idea to try your luck with Cerebro? Forgive me for presuming, but I do believe you know that already."

"How do you do that—?" She cut herself off, about to say, 'Read my mind'. In hindsight, that seemed a bit redundant.

He folded a page in his book. "I've had a lifetime of practice teaching youths with troubled pasts."

As always, part of her was surprised at the reminder that according to the rest of the world, she was a youth. In demigod terms, she was practically an elder.

He paused, like something had just occurred to him. "Oh, and I'm also psychic."

"That would probably help."

"Mhm."

"Will the headaches go away?"

"Most likely by tomorrow."

She unconsciously rubbed her temples. "What about…" She drummed her fingers against her thigh. Percy kept choking Akhlys inside her head. You're never getting away from me. Never again. "The memories?"

The Professor's ice-blue eyes softened slightly. "Of course, it's possible that prolonged exposure to so many minds unearthed some things, but… honestly, Annabeth? I suspect you're just tired."

She looked away.

I confess I've been training you harder than I normally would. I usually have more than three weeks. And you had your eventful night."

She heard her heartbeat in her temples as Percy was replaced by Rogue, the color slowly draining from her face.

She took a breath. Charles Xavier still hadn't said anything else. Curious, she looked him over, the first time she had really studied him since she had first arrived. This time, she looked past the superficial details of his appearance.

He really was quite old. She would guess late seventies at least, maybe eighties. With that came an aura of wisdom that Annabeth had at first dismissed for arrogance. And there was something else—he radiated just true kindness. Annabeth had at first told herself she was being sentimental, but now… she wasn't sure that one could fake that.

He really, truly seemed to want the best for people. After years and years of the gods abusing their power, she had never expected to see that again.

"I'm sorry for what happened yesterday." She told him. "I was out of line."

He looked genuinely surprised. "You were within your rights. I'm afraid that I'm not accustomed to telling my students everything—but it's becoming clear that you are not an ordinary student."

"I should have gone about it differently."

"Perhaps. It's quite all right, Annabeth."

That was… easier than I expected.

She opened her mouth to ask about Magneto, when suddenly the door burst open. Scott and Ororo stood there. Scott looked furious, while Storm merely had her arms crossed, though her hair seemed to crackle when she moved.

"Logan's gone," said Scott. "And he took my motorcycle."

A/N: And so, Annabeth moves closer to trusting Charles Xavier. In this story, I've been really trying to emphasize that Tartarus has scarred Annabeth too, not just Percy. I feel like in a lot of fics everyone just focuses on Percy—which is totally fine—but this is mainly Annabeth-centric. Part of that scarring is that Annabeth's natural paranoia has increased to the point that it's not logical, and very hard for her to move past.

I also started exploring anxiety, and how it manifests in different characters. I have been diagnosed with anxiety and OCD, so I do have experience. Mental illness shows itself in different ways, so this might not line up with your experience, but I'm not trying to offend anyone.

Moving past that, let's address the elephant in the room lol. No, I'm not dead. No, I don't plan on abandoning this story. Yes, I'm doing my best to write as much as my mental health will allow me too, and to have a normal update schedule. That said, sometimes life gets ahead of me, and that happened this month. I'm sorry for those of you who have been waiting. I truly appreciate everyone who has been reading this story. Now that I've gotten into the groove of things, updates SHOULD be back to normal.

And for those of you who have been asking when Percy's going to play a bigger part: I'm afraid that this story is mainly Annabeth-centric. Percy will, of course, play a role—it would be weird if he didn't—but he might not have as much as some people have been hoping for. If that's why you originally clicked this story, it might not be what you're hoping for. I hope you stick around still!

Thank you for all the lovely reviews and kudos. It would be wonderful if you kept doing that!

Sorry for the monster of an A/N. Shouldn't happen again lol.