Title: The Dopplegang Effect
Author: Becka
Chapter 07: Confrontations Overdue
o
Xander shot up from his spot on the couch, breathing hard. Unseeing eyes darted around the study until they came to rest on Professor Xavier.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Alexander," the Professor said in a gentle voice.
"Did'ja miss me?" Xander's mouth quipped automatically.
The older man smiled softly. "Of course. You gave us a rather nasty scare, you know. Logan found you and brought you to me. And Henry informed me of your blackout last night... I must confess, I feared something like this might happen."
The dark-haired man swung his legs off the couch and stood unsteadily. "What-" A momentary wave of dizziness hit him and he quickly sat back down. He cleared his throat, which felt as though he'd been unsuccessfully trying to swallow gravel, and tried again. "What happened? I mean..." He remembered hearing voices in his head, which seemed a sure sign, to himself at least, that he'd finally gone around the bend.
"You're not crazy, Alexander," the Professor said mildly. He ignored the reproachful look Xander gave him and continued, "And before you ask, while I am a telepath, I didn't need that to tell me what's going on in your head right now. I thought the same thing when _my_ gift manifested itself."
"Gift?" Xander repeated stupidly. "You call _that_ a _gift_?"
"I do." A steely note that Xander had never heard before crept into Xavier's voice. "Both you and I, and all the mutants at this school, have something that most people on this planet do not. It may be difficult at times, but simply _having_ our respective talents is a gift. And a responsibility, as well."
"I never took well to responsibility. He and I don't mix," the dark-haired man snapped back. "And if losing myself -" /metal walls, metal ceiling, metal floor, who am I?/ "- in everyone else's thoughts is a _gift_..."
Xavier held up a hand and Xander swallowed back the rest of his statement. The older man said gently, "It is difficult, Alexander. Believe me when I tell you I understand. However, everything comes down to control. Once you've learned to block out the voices, you may find you've changed your mind about your gifts."
"Speaking of voices..." Xander turned his head to the side, eyes narrowing marginally. "... why can't I hear them now?"
"I'm blocking you for the moment. I'll teach you the basics of control tonight; Logan has assured me you're a fast learner. And tomorrow, you'll have another lesson with Jean. Now..." Xavier leaned forward a little, his eyes focused intently on Xander, "... let's begin."
o
If Xander thought construction was tiring work, then the lesson that Professor Xavier gave him could only be classified as grueling. For three hours _straight_, he struggled to understand what the Professor was trying to teach him. It was just like his high school days; he didn't think he'd ever get it. At the end of that time, his shielding was shaky at best.
That all changed when Xavier had asked him to try and examine his own mental shields. Much to his shock, Xander had found he was able to read his mentor's mind even _when_ his shields were firmly in place. As a result, he was able to see _exactly_ how the Professor created his shields and managed to replicate them flawlessly.
Xavier had told him, quite firmly, that while he may be able to look into the minds of others with stunning ease, it was an unwritten rule among telepaths that to enter another person's mind without their express permission was strictly forbidden. Then, in a quiet tone, he told Xander that he'd never even _heard_ of a telepath who could move through shields as though they weren't even there, and that when someone tried to read another person's thoughts by force, it usually resulted in excruciating pain, leaving the unwilling participant in a vegetable-like state.
A second, slightly more disturbing revelation had hit him when he reached out to touch the Professor's mind again. It seemed that not only could he get past the older mutant's shielding, but the Professor wasn't even aware of him doing it. Remembering the rules about privacy, he quickly pulled his mind away.
They ended the lesson soon after. Xavier seemed pleased, but Xander knew he'd frightened the older man. It wasn't surprising; he frightened himself as well.
o
The next morning, he was rudely awakened by insistent knocking on his bedroom door. Groaning, he called, "Who is it?"
"Jean," came the curt response.
Xander briefly wondered what made the woman seek him out when she'd been doing her best to avoid him over the few days he'd been there. Then he remembered the Professor had mentioned something about a lesson. He wondered how she felt about it, and cautiously, he touched her mind.
/ Just like _that!_ He's been here, what, three days, and he's already picked up the Professor's mutation? It's. Not. Fair. /
He quickly pulled back. The bitterness of her thoughts left a bad taste in his mouth, and he wondered if there was any way to get out today's lesson.
"Fat chance..." he muttered. He rolled out of bed, pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and opened the door.
Jean stared at him in surprise, her hand poised to knock on the door again.
"So, where to?" Xander kept his voice as neutral as possible.
"My lab. I'd also like to run a few tests to see if you've picked up any telekinesis." Her mouth tightened a little bit, as if she seemed to find the very thought distasteful.
Xander plastered a smiled on his face and responded cheerfully, "Lead the way."
o
The testing was... unpleasant. Xander simply couldn't find the will to try very hard when all he had to do was lower his shields just a little for her poisonous thoughts to slip through. He grudgingly admitted that the lesson _was_ fairly informative. Even if the fact that he wasn't able to move a spoon more than an inch across the table seemed to give Jean a strange satisfaction.
When she began to test his shields, though, he was able to take some perverse pleasure in her frustrations.
"For not having been a telepath for very long, your shields are... amazing." Jean frowned slightly.
"Yeah," Xander said, bitterness creeping into his voice. "Just like the Professor's, right?"
The redhead looked up sharply, her brow furrowing, "That's exactly what I was thinking."
"Yeah," the dark-haired youth closed his eyes, bile rising in his throat. He didn't want to share this with her, but after almost five hours of her picking him apart, he couldn't help himself. "Yeah, I know."
Before the older woman could say anything, Xander stood up. "I... I have to go now, Mrs. Summers. It was nice talking with you."
Recognizing the escape for what it was, Jean stood as well, holding her hands up. "Wait a minute, Xander, I think it's important-"
"-to talk about this. We're not really sure what to think and it's important that we understand this before we go any further," he finished the sentence for her, verbatim. "Yeah, Mrs. Summers. It's important, isn't it?" His eyes narrowed a little, and for a moment Jean was reminded of the way Logan treated Scott. Contempt for authority. Minimal respect because he didn't feel it was earned. And bitterness for... something.
She tried to say something, anything, but the only thing that came to mind was the conversation she, Scott, Hank, Ororo, and Warren had the night before. Her eyes widened a little when she saw Xander's bitter smile.
"I know, Mrs. Summers," he said, eyes downcast. "I know what you guys said about me yesterday... even if I wasn't standing outside the door, I could have felt your hearts, heard your minds from across the country. I think you've made it perfectly clear what you think of me. And while I did promise the Professor I'd stay for at least four more days, I don't think there's anything I can say that would make you change your mind about me. So, if you'll excuse me..."
Jean reacted. She didn't think, she didn't reason, she just reached into Xander's mind in a way that would have been construed as rape should it have taken place in the physical realm. She was embarrassed and angry, and she couldn't understand this strange boy no matter how hard she tried. So instead of following the rules, she tried to take what she wanted to know from Xander's mind. She wasn't gentle or careful. She was like a bull, rage blotting out everything but her own bitter resentment of the boy.
But the first memory she pulled from his mind hit her and before she knew what was happening, she'd been pulled in, powerless to -
/"Please, dad, please-"
"Don't you talk to me like that, boy. Don't you ever-"
- a flash of leather, and pain that bit into his skin -
"-stop it! Please, stop!"
"Shut the fuck up. Show respect to your father -"
- blood, thick in the air, on the walls, on the floor -
"... please..."
"Dammit all. Shut UP!"
- something shoved in his mouth, pressing against the back of his throat, silencing the soft, pathetic pleas -
"You want it, boy. Fucking slut, just like the fucking bitch that whelped you-"
"-waste of space. Only one thing you're good for-"
"-just like your bitch mother-"
"That's it, boy. Fuck. So tight-"
"-so hot, so tight-"
"-fucking-"
"-slut/
With a startled cry, Jean fell to the floor. She stared up with wide, horrified eyes at the boy, no older than twenty. His eyes were hard.
"I don't know much about all this stuff... but I think you could have killed me just then. Please don't ever do that again, Mrs. Summers." He turned on his heel and headed for the door.
"...wait..." Her throat was so dry she had difficulty even choking out just the one word.
"For what, Mrs. Summers? I know everything you're going to say, and it doesn't change a thing. You're supposed to be a telepath... I think there's some rule or something the professor mentioned about privacy. And about tearing other people's minds open." He didn't turn around.
"... how can you... do that...?" She pushed herself up to a sitting position gingerly.
"Read your mind when your shields are up? Easy. Yesterday I met a girl who could walk through walls."
She shivered, frightened at the implication in his words, but as he walked away, she didn't try to stop him.
/Jean!/ the professor's horrified voice gently reached out to touch her mind. The little tendril of thought flinched away from her as he saw what she'd done, as well as what she'd seen.
Without looking up, Jean pressed her hands to her face and began to cry.
o
Xander stalked through the halls, breathing heavily. Several students stared at him, but he wasn't in any mood to deal with them. That _woman_, that fucking _bitch_ had seen his father.
He knew she didn't like him. She resented him. Fine, whatever. And he knew that her influence was the same as Rogue's; people would follow her because she was respected. Fine, he could deal with that. But for her to just rip into his mind and pull up one of his most personal memories... he didn't think he'd ever forgive her for that.
He bumped into someone. A quick glance revealed it to be Warren Worthington. They'd never met, but he'd seen the winged man around the school. Beyond that, he recognized the man's scent as the person who'd been most vocal in voicing his dislike of Xander the other night. Without apologizing, he walked away. He didn't want to deal with anyone, and certainly not with someone who'd formed hateful opinions of him without ever having met him.
His feet led him outside. He didn't care where; he just wanted to get away.
His thoughts turned back to Jean. No one was supposed to know about his father. He'd kept it a secret from Willow and Jesse when they were kids, from Buffy and the rest of the Scoobies when he got older. His teachers just thought he was clumsy, and NO ONE WAS SUPPOSED TO _KNOW_.
Xander was so focused on his anger that he didn't realize he was having another attack until he found himself face down in the dirt. He felt a sharp pain in his chest that spread to his back. It wasn't like anything he'd ever experienced before; the only thing that came close was when his father had stamped a cigar along his spine. He couldn't even scream.
Mercifully, he blacked out.
o