A recess had been called, and Xavier wheeeled himself out into a coutyard
to the side of the building. He dialled a number on his mobile phone and
the other line picked up in a matter of seconds.
"Charles," Jean said.
"I sometimes wonder what it would be like to lift a phone and wonder who's calling."
She laughed softly. "How are things progressing?"
He sighed. The line hummed with his frustration. "It seems as though they want to make an example of us."
"An example?"
"If are not to be shut down, then our operations will be monitored heavily, I fear."
"They cant do that!"
"Standard procedure, Jean. We will not be absolved. This hearing will end with a victory for them, any which way."
"And what does the chair feel?"
"She is an open minded and fair woman. But she will not bend the law to suit one case. She is perhaps the only one who regrets this whole thing."
"Charles, we cannot let this school close."
"I know that, Jean."
"I feel horrible for suggesting it, but this whole situation could be remedied....."
"Jean."
"Okay. But if a cat is backed to a wall, he may be forced to use claws to escape."
"Very nice euphamism."
"Thankyou."
"How are things at the school?"
"Like you already dont know."
Xavier smiled. "You are doing the right thing with this child, Jean. Trust your instincts. He needs our guidance."
"I was right about him being one of us, wasnt I?"
"There are other things this boy must face first."
"What do you mean, Charles?"
"His...Condition isnt the only thing that sets him apart from the world. Keep an eye on him."
"I will."
"I'll call you as soon as I know anything more."
"You know you dont need to call. I'll feel it."
Xavier ended the call, and slipped his mobile phone into his breast pocket. He looked up to see a man standing over him.
"Charles," He said. "I thought I might find you here."
Xavier regarded the other man for few moments, and nodded his head in response.
"How goes things? I heard about this god awful trial."
The other man had blocked the sun and Xavier was engulfed by his shadow. "I knew you were here," He said.
"You always do," The other man replied. He wore a pinstriped three peice suit, hands shoved into pockets. "I sometimes forget. Its hard to keep a secret from Charles Xavier."
Xavier nodded again. "I also know why you came, and though I thank you, it is not necesary."
The other man laughed softly."I may as well be made of glass. You see right through me."
Xavier smiled at that.The other man removed his glasses, withdrew a bright blue hankerchief and polished their lenses. He fixed Xavier with a pupil- less gaze, and cocked his head to the side. Xavier was truly awed at the size of him, even more awed by the man's ability to just blend in when the occaision called for it. The large man tapped the buckle of his belt and smiled devilishly at Xavier.
"You can hardly notice it now," He said. "I've made several refinements, ironed out the bugs."
"So I see."
Xavier watched Robert Frost approached them, and nodded towards him. The other man turned and replaced his glasses. A glint of recognition in his eyes. "Robert Frost. Oh my stars and garters."
Frost smiled at them both. "Proffessor, we're about to reconvene."
Xavier nodded, then raised an open palm to the big man, presenting him to Frost. "Robert, I beleive you know Dr. Henry McCoy."
***
Although the panel's hearing into Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was closed to the public, the details were leaked almost hourly to media outlets in Washington, and the major networks picked them up and ran them as top stories. A battalion of reporters camped outside the government building, eager to pounce on anything, anyone, coming out.
Every man on the street had an opinion on the outcome of the hearing, and every man's opinion was different. Talk of segregation for mutants and humans, talk of controlling mutant activity, talk of drowning them at birth, talk of Xavier being a dangerous man.
Clips of an old interview with Xavier on Larry King Live, shown in slow motion, displayed on the front page of every major tabloid in the country.
Dr Henry McCoy, prolific bio geneticist, whose paper on the so called "X- factor",the sequence of genes that distinguishes mutants from normal humans, appeared on sesveral talk shows, feircly defending his friend and collegue Proffessor Xavier, and hotly debated the need for a hearing into the school's operations.
"The department of education should be reviewing its policy on mutant segregation rather than running a witch hunt," He said to Larry King. Graydon Creed, via satellite, argued this point, questioning Dr McCoy's position to make such a claim.
"Dr McCoy should be careful," He said. "His expertise does not extend to these matters."
"Mr.Creed does not fully grasp the finer issues that are at hand here," McCoy countered. "Instead of trying to understand, he wants to start a war."
Ororo switched off the television and looked at Logan. "Henry is making himself a target," She said. "He may as well wave a red flag in front of a bull, to talk of war the way he is."
Logan nodded. "He knows he's rufflin' feathers. But that can be a good thing sometimes."
"I wish he would swallow his pride and join the team," Ororo said, looking at her reflection in the blank television screen. She drew her knees up to her chin and bit her bottom lip. "He's too close to detection out there. Look at him."
"He's doing good out there, 'ro. He's fighting in a different way, but he's still fighting with us."
"Do you think there's a war brewing, Logan?" Her voice was small, strained. She looked at him with wide eyes.
He inhaled deeply and cocked his head to the side when he looked at her. "There's always a war brewing," He answered. "Someone always wants war, and most of the time they get it."
Ororo knew he was right, but she still resented Logan for being right. He was being realistic, but then in he always was.
"Sometimes, I wish you could be wrong," She said softly.
He smiled, but the humour in it was slight. "Sometimes, so do I."
Ororo felt his rough hand on her arm. She put her small hand over his, patted it gently, and began to move away. "It wont do for the children to see their teacher scared. The future X-men need strong people, do they not?"
"They also need to know that you're human. Humans get scared sometimes."
"But we're not human."
He lowered his head but still held her gaze. Again that smirk. "No," He replied. "We're something else."
Morgan rubbed his temples. He'd been reading for an hour and a half now, and all he had to show for it was a sore neck and the begginings of a tension headache. The kid's mother might as well not exist; her record consisted of one traffic fine. From 1982. Paid in full, thank you very much. The kid's father, Paul Blacksmith, was a good citizen too. Drink driving, no conviction. Illegal parking. Fine paid in full.
The boy's file stared up at him from the desk, and the damn thing was about as thick as a bible. He didnt really feel like wading through its pages, and he badly needed coffee. He stood up and stretched until he felt something pop, yawned, and headed out of his office, then mande his way to the shoebox-like kitchenette they called a break room.
A young officer was pouring coffee when he entered. He nodded to Morgan and held up the coffee pot. "You want one, Detective Morgan?"
"Yeah. Thanks." Morgan sat at a table and watched as the officer approched with two steaming styrofoam cups in hand. Morgan read the man's name tag as he slid the styrofoam cup towards him. Lucas Whitehall. Morgan lifted the cup to his lips and sipped, then looked at Whitehall. "You were on the scene the night those two punks walked into traffic, right?"
Whitehall nodded. He had a buzz cut, a long pale face and serious blue eyes. Looked good in a uniform. Probably why he took the job in the first place. "Thats right. Real messy scene there."
"I saw. What did you think of the whole thing?"
Whitehall frowned at Morgan. He looked like he was posing for Calvin Klein. "Didnt you read my report?"
"Yeah, but what did you think about the whole thing?" Morgan fixed him with a gaze that had made hardened criminals crack, but it just served to confuse the other man more.
"It was odd, I thought, that these boys would just off themselves for no reason, sir. I mean, they were running after that other kid, not running away from him."
Morgan sat back in the hard metal chair and sipped his coffee again. "You know what the boys were involved in, right?"
"I've heard talk around the place...Some of the other officers...."
"Some of the other officers think the Klansmen were onto something. You wanna tip? Dont listen to what they think. Dont nod when they talk like that. Sure fire ticket to nowhere, listening to them."
"Yes, sir."
"You dont think it's possible that these boys killed themselves. Thats what I think. I also think that these boys were not good human beings and deserved what they got, but thats just me."
Whitehall nodded and smiled. "With you there, sir."
"In any case, I don't think the investigation will be wrapped up in a nice neat bow."
"Why is that?"
Morgan sighed deeply, shrugged. He wondered if he'd already said too much. Whitehall had moved in closer, his face attentive, with not a hint of malice. "The two dead boys come from troubled homes. Drunk- ass father, whore mother, that sort of thing. The third boy, the one that got away? He comes from one of the cleanest homes I've ever seen. Father's a doctor, mother's some kinds heir....Not really the sort of background you'd think a boy like this would have. Leads me to think something's up. But for the life of me..." He drew in air though his teeth. "I can't see it."
Whiteahll sipped his coffee thoughtfully, tapped his fingers on the table rapidly. "You won't find anything under the good doctor's name," He said as though everyone knew it.
Morgan fixed him with an impatient stare. "I've already come to that conclusion, thankyou."
Whitehall shrugged. "You're barking up the wrong tree looking for the boy's father in that file...."
"What do you mean, looking for...Wait a minute!" Morgan stood up so rapidly that his stryofoam cup toppled over. Whitehall stood up, too, but more so he wouldnt get splashed by hot coffee than anything. Morgan looked at Whitehall, stunned, eyes wide and searching for something. "I've been searching under Dr. Eugine Blacksmith's details, thinking he was...But he's not...." His voice faded in his throat, and his hand was poised as if he meant to grasp something. Then he gave Whitehall a frown. "How did you know?"
"Sir? Know what?"
Morgan was already in the doorway and pointed at the other man. "Eugine Blacksmith isnt Jeremiah's father."
"Charles," Jean said.
"I sometimes wonder what it would be like to lift a phone and wonder who's calling."
She laughed softly. "How are things progressing?"
He sighed. The line hummed with his frustration. "It seems as though they want to make an example of us."
"An example?"
"If are not to be shut down, then our operations will be monitored heavily, I fear."
"They cant do that!"
"Standard procedure, Jean. We will not be absolved. This hearing will end with a victory for them, any which way."
"And what does the chair feel?"
"She is an open minded and fair woman. But she will not bend the law to suit one case. She is perhaps the only one who regrets this whole thing."
"Charles, we cannot let this school close."
"I know that, Jean."
"I feel horrible for suggesting it, but this whole situation could be remedied....."
"Jean."
"Okay. But if a cat is backed to a wall, he may be forced to use claws to escape."
"Very nice euphamism."
"Thankyou."
"How are things at the school?"
"Like you already dont know."
Xavier smiled. "You are doing the right thing with this child, Jean. Trust your instincts. He needs our guidance."
"I was right about him being one of us, wasnt I?"
"There are other things this boy must face first."
"What do you mean, Charles?"
"His...Condition isnt the only thing that sets him apart from the world. Keep an eye on him."
"I will."
"I'll call you as soon as I know anything more."
"You know you dont need to call. I'll feel it."
Xavier ended the call, and slipped his mobile phone into his breast pocket. He looked up to see a man standing over him.
"Charles," He said. "I thought I might find you here."
Xavier regarded the other man for few moments, and nodded his head in response.
"How goes things? I heard about this god awful trial."
The other man had blocked the sun and Xavier was engulfed by his shadow. "I knew you were here," He said.
"You always do," The other man replied. He wore a pinstriped three peice suit, hands shoved into pockets. "I sometimes forget. Its hard to keep a secret from Charles Xavier."
Xavier nodded again. "I also know why you came, and though I thank you, it is not necesary."
The other man laughed softly."I may as well be made of glass. You see right through me."
Xavier smiled at that.The other man removed his glasses, withdrew a bright blue hankerchief and polished their lenses. He fixed Xavier with a pupil- less gaze, and cocked his head to the side. Xavier was truly awed at the size of him, even more awed by the man's ability to just blend in when the occaision called for it. The large man tapped the buckle of his belt and smiled devilishly at Xavier.
"You can hardly notice it now," He said. "I've made several refinements, ironed out the bugs."
"So I see."
Xavier watched Robert Frost approached them, and nodded towards him. The other man turned and replaced his glasses. A glint of recognition in his eyes. "Robert Frost. Oh my stars and garters."
Frost smiled at them both. "Proffessor, we're about to reconvene."
Xavier nodded, then raised an open palm to the big man, presenting him to Frost. "Robert, I beleive you know Dr. Henry McCoy."
***
Although the panel's hearing into Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was closed to the public, the details were leaked almost hourly to media outlets in Washington, and the major networks picked them up and ran them as top stories. A battalion of reporters camped outside the government building, eager to pounce on anything, anyone, coming out.
Every man on the street had an opinion on the outcome of the hearing, and every man's opinion was different. Talk of segregation for mutants and humans, talk of controlling mutant activity, talk of drowning them at birth, talk of Xavier being a dangerous man.
Clips of an old interview with Xavier on Larry King Live, shown in slow motion, displayed on the front page of every major tabloid in the country.
Dr Henry McCoy, prolific bio geneticist, whose paper on the so called "X- factor",the sequence of genes that distinguishes mutants from normal humans, appeared on sesveral talk shows, feircly defending his friend and collegue Proffessor Xavier, and hotly debated the need for a hearing into the school's operations.
"The department of education should be reviewing its policy on mutant segregation rather than running a witch hunt," He said to Larry King. Graydon Creed, via satellite, argued this point, questioning Dr McCoy's position to make such a claim.
"Dr McCoy should be careful," He said. "His expertise does not extend to these matters."
"Mr.Creed does not fully grasp the finer issues that are at hand here," McCoy countered. "Instead of trying to understand, he wants to start a war."
Ororo switched off the television and looked at Logan. "Henry is making himself a target," She said. "He may as well wave a red flag in front of a bull, to talk of war the way he is."
Logan nodded. "He knows he's rufflin' feathers. But that can be a good thing sometimes."
"I wish he would swallow his pride and join the team," Ororo said, looking at her reflection in the blank television screen. She drew her knees up to her chin and bit her bottom lip. "He's too close to detection out there. Look at him."
"He's doing good out there, 'ro. He's fighting in a different way, but he's still fighting with us."
"Do you think there's a war brewing, Logan?" Her voice was small, strained. She looked at him with wide eyes.
He inhaled deeply and cocked his head to the side when he looked at her. "There's always a war brewing," He answered. "Someone always wants war, and most of the time they get it."
Ororo knew he was right, but she still resented Logan for being right. He was being realistic, but then in he always was.
"Sometimes, I wish you could be wrong," She said softly.
He smiled, but the humour in it was slight. "Sometimes, so do I."
Ororo felt his rough hand on her arm. She put her small hand over his, patted it gently, and began to move away. "It wont do for the children to see their teacher scared. The future X-men need strong people, do they not?"
"They also need to know that you're human. Humans get scared sometimes."
"But we're not human."
He lowered his head but still held her gaze. Again that smirk. "No," He replied. "We're something else."
Morgan rubbed his temples. He'd been reading for an hour and a half now, and all he had to show for it was a sore neck and the begginings of a tension headache. The kid's mother might as well not exist; her record consisted of one traffic fine. From 1982. Paid in full, thank you very much. The kid's father, Paul Blacksmith, was a good citizen too. Drink driving, no conviction. Illegal parking. Fine paid in full.
The boy's file stared up at him from the desk, and the damn thing was about as thick as a bible. He didnt really feel like wading through its pages, and he badly needed coffee. He stood up and stretched until he felt something pop, yawned, and headed out of his office, then mande his way to the shoebox-like kitchenette they called a break room.
A young officer was pouring coffee when he entered. He nodded to Morgan and held up the coffee pot. "You want one, Detective Morgan?"
"Yeah. Thanks." Morgan sat at a table and watched as the officer approched with two steaming styrofoam cups in hand. Morgan read the man's name tag as he slid the styrofoam cup towards him. Lucas Whitehall. Morgan lifted the cup to his lips and sipped, then looked at Whitehall. "You were on the scene the night those two punks walked into traffic, right?"
Whitehall nodded. He had a buzz cut, a long pale face and serious blue eyes. Looked good in a uniform. Probably why he took the job in the first place. "Thats right. Real messy scene there."
"I saw. What did you think of the whole thing?"
Whitehall frowned at Morgan. He looked like he was posing for Calvin Klein. "Didnt you read my report?"
"Yeah, but what did you think about the whole thing?" Morgan fixed him with a gaze that had made hardened criminals crack, but it just served to confuse the other man more.
"It was odd, I thought, that these boys would just off themselves for no reason, sir. I mean, they were running after that other kid, not running away from him."
Morgan sat back in the hard metal chair and sipped his coffee again. "You know what the boys were involved in, right?"
"I've heard talk around the place...Some of the other officers...."
"Some of the other officers think the Klansmen were onto something. You wanna tip? Dont listen to what they think. Dont nod when they talk like that. Sure fire ticket to nowhere, listening to them."
"Yes, sir."
"You dont think it's possible that these boys killed themselves. Thats what I think. I also think that these boys were not good human beings and deserved what they got, but thats just me."
Whitehall nodded and smiled. "With you there, sir."
"In any case, I don't think the investigation will be wrapped up in a nice neat bow."
"Why is that?"
Morgan sighed deeply, shrugged. He wondered if he'd already said too much. Whitehall had moved in closer, his face attentive, with not a hint of malice. "The two dead boys come from troubled homes. Drunk- ass father, whore mother, that sort of thing. The third boy, the one that got away? He comes from one of the cleanest homes I've ever seen. Father's a doctor, mother's some kinds heir....Not really the sort of background you'd think a boy like this would have. Leads me to think something's up. But for the life of me..." He drew in air though his teeth. "I can't see it."
Whiteahll sipped his coffee thoughtfully, tapped his fingers on the table rapidly. "You won't find anything under the good doctor's name," He said as though everyone knew it.
Morgan fixed him with an impatient stare. "I've already come to that conclusion, thankyou."
Whitehall shrugged. "You're barking up the wrong tree looking for the boy's father in that file...."
"What do you mean, looking for...Wait a minute!" Morgan stood up so rapidly that his stryofoam cup toppled over. Whitehall stood up, too, but more so he wouldnt get splashed by hot coffee than anything. Morgan looked at Whitehall, stunned, eyes wide and searching for something. "I've been searching under Dr. Eugine Blacksmith's details, thinking he was...But he's not...." His voice faded in his throat, and his hand was poised as if he meant to grasp something. Then he gave Whitehall a frown. "How did you know?"
"Sir? Know what?"
Morgan was already in the doorway and pointed at the other man. "Eugine Blacksmith isnt Jeremiah's father."