Rebirth and Awakenings
Chapter 2
Later that afternoon, Scott, Hank, and Professor Xavier were settled in a private plane, heading for New York. They took Scott out of the hospital by a convoluted route that kept them out of the main lobby. Agent Duncan met them at a side entrance and whisked them to a small private airport in Maryland.
As he was getting out of the car, Scott suddenly turned back. "Agent Duncan?"
"Yes."
"Thanks."
He smiled. "Don't make me regret it, kid. Goodbye, Charles, Hank." Then he was gone.
Scott was put into the plane first, then the Professor and Hank came on board. The plane had a lift and was obviously designed to accommodate the wheelchair. Scott buckled himself in and grabbed the armrest as they took off. He hadn't been on a plane since -- 'no, don't think of that,' he told himself firmly. 'Don't think of that, ever.'
After a half an hour of uneventful flying, Scott found his voice.
"You say it's a school. How many students are there?" he asked.
"Right now, not many," Professor Xavier replied. "There is yourself, Ororo Munroe, who's a year older than you, Warren Worthington, who is graduating from high school this year and will be staying the summer before he goes to college in the fall. Then there's Jean Grey, who's in medical school and spends her free weekends at the Institute, and Hank here who is doing advanced studies with me during the summer as part of his hospital residency program."
"So there's not a lot of us?"
"Not right now, no."
Scott sniffed at that, but said no more. The rest of the flight was silent.
* * *
The drive from the airport to the mansion also was silent. Xavier felt Scott was on the verge of saying something once or twice, but then decided better of it. The silence might have been laughable, if it hadn't also been so very sad.
Finally, they reached the mansion. Hank got the Professor comfortably settled in his wheelchair before getting Scott out of the car. Scott carried the small backpack that contained everything he owned and placed his fingertips on the arm of the wheelchair to help guide him.
They entered a building, Scott noticed. It smelled of polish and flowers. He heard footsteps coming towards them.
"Professor! Hank! You're finally back. Mrs. Hanscomb has dinner ready. You must be Scott," she added, taking his hand. "I'm Jean Grey."
She had a lovely voice. "Hi," he stammered.
"We had the downstairs sitting room made up with a bed, as you requested," Jean turned her attention back to the Professor and then back to Scott. "We thought it would be better if you didn't have to deal with stairs immediately."
"Thanks," he said. They were thoughtful here, anyway.
"Hank," the Professor said. "Why don't you show Scott his room and explain the layout of the house. We'll be in the drawing room."
Jean listened as Hank explained the layout of the hall using a clockwork pattern. The younger boy nodded his head, seeming to understand the arrangement. They disappeared down the hall.
"He looks younger than I was expecting," Jean commented.
"Yes," Professor Xavier replied. "And if these reports from Agent Duncan are correct, he's far more powerful than I was anticipating."
* * *
Scott and Hank joined the others in the Drawing Room later. Professor Xavier noted the boy was alert, listening -- expecting danger. He realized this was the largest group of people Scott had been with in many months. There was no reason for him to be afraid. Xavier began with introductions.
"This is Scott Summers; he will be joining us at the Institute. He is a mutant, like ourselves. His gift appears to be energy conversion. Like the rest of you, he'll be learning to control his powers while he stays here. Jean Grey, is sitting by the window to your left; you met her in the hall. Across the room from you is Warren Worthington ..."
"Hello," Warren said in a bored voice.
"And on the couch next to your chair is Ororo Monroe. You'll be going to high school with her in September."
"Aurora?" he asked.
"O-ro-ro," she corrected in her soft Kenyan accent.
He repeated it again with only marginally better pronunciation.
"Close enough," Ororo sighed.
"What do you do?" Scott wanted to know.
"I can control weather."
Scott thought that one over. "Neat," he said.
Silence descended on the room. Professor Xavier was never more grateful than when Mrs. Hanscomb announced dinner.
* * *
Jean took the responsibility of guiding Scott to the dining room. Hank noticed they seemed to have made an almost instantaneous connection. If nothing else, Scott seemed to trust her. He didn't flinch when she touched him, unlike with everyone else.
Scott sat down and ran his fingers along the edge of the tablecloth and found the silverware. Two forks, a knife and two spoons. He forced himself upright. He could do this. He tried to remember everything that had ever been drummed or beaten into him about manners.
Thankfully, Jean was on his left. She placed the food on his plate and used the clockwork pattern to describe what was there and where it was.
The Professor sighed slightly when he saw the table. He and Mrs. Hanscomb were going to have to have a discussion regarding the definition of "simple," at least in regards to meals. Mrs. Hanscomb had never accustomed herself to the fact that Professor Xavier and his students no longer lived in an age of gracious living and regularly served meals in multiple courses. Warren, Jean, Hank, and Ororo had all gotten used to this aspect of living at the mansion. But Scott -- Scott had lived in institutions on and off for years and had probably never dealt with any kind of formal table setting since he was orphaned. The last thing the Professor wanted was to make the boy feel inferior.
But, so far, he was managing. In fact, Scott was feeling rather proud of himself. He hadn't made any major mistakes he was aware of and he was starting to relax. Which is when disaster struck. He overshot reaching for his water glass and knocked over a nearby jug, sending ice water everywhere.
He jumped up, but with his eyes blindfolded, he was unable to do anything. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. He was obviously expecting some kind of punishment. The boy's fear was tangible.
"It's okay, it's okay," Jean assured him. "Sit down, Scott, I've got it."
Scott sat down again, his face burning. He heard the squashy sounds of Jean sopping up the water with a napkin. He also heard a deep chuckle from further down the table. *Warren*, he thought darkly. But he was satisfied to hear the 'splat' of the wet napkin being thrown across the table and hitting its target. Jean seemed to have a good pitching arm.
But the accident also meant Scott withdrew again, into himself, where at least it was reasonably safe. He refused dessert, refused everything, and went back to the room they had given him. He undressed and got himself to bed. He didn't care that it was early. It had been a very long day.
* * *
Scott woke to the sound of birds singing outside his window. It was a sound he hadn't heard in a long time. At first, he was disoriented. This wasn't the hospital. Then he remembered the previous day. He wasn't in Washington anymore, he was in New York. He was in a big old house where he was fumbling around blind. At that thought, he checked to make sure the bandage was on his face before carefully getting out of bed.
The downstairs room he was in had its own bathroom and Scott did a credible job of washing and dressing himself before heading out to the rest of the house. He hesitated in the entrance hall, remembering what Hank had told him about the layout and the furniture placement. He got through the room and to the dining room without any problems at all.
Unknown to him, Hank watched Scott from the stair landing above. The boy had a sense of direction and space that was remarkable in Hank's mind.
Scott entered the dining room and realized from the sounds there was another occupant there as well. "Who's here?" he called out.
"It's only me," Professor Xavier answered calmly. "Enjoying my second cup of tea. Ororo and Warren are at school and Jean had to leave early this morning to return to Columbia. Hank went upstairs for a few moments."
"What time is it," he asked.
"Almost nine."
"Jeez." Scott couldn't remember when he had last slept that late. "I'm sorry, I'm late; I don't have a clock, and no one came to wake me ..."
"It's quite all right, Scott. Yesterday was a long and difficult day. If you would prefer to eat breakfast with the others, I can have someone wake you in time."
Given his experiences last night, he wasn't entirely sure that breakfasting by himself (the Professor didn't count) wouldn't be a bad idea. He was saved from discussing the matter further by the entrance of Hank.
"Good morning, Scott," Hank boomed cheerfully. "Are you ready for the tests."
"What tests?" Scott was immediately wary.
"We'll need to measure the strength of the optic blasts."
"They've been measured," Scott pointed out. "Twice."
"Yes, but we have equipment that isn't going to blow up." Hank sounded happily confident.
Scott was unconvinced. "If you say so."
* * *
After Scott had eaten, the three of them went down to the basement where a complete and modern laboratory was set up. Hank guided Scott to a chair and began to set up the equipment. When everything was ready, he cut the bandage off Scott's eyes.
"Now," he said. "Open your eyes."
Scott did nothing but clutch the arm rests of the chair convulsively.
Professor Xavier understood his fear. "Scott," he said calmly. "Both Hank and I are behind you. There is nothing in front of you but a blast wall. No one will get hurt, I promise you."
Scott opened his eyes. The Professor bit back a gasp. The blast was pure energy, a red beam of such force as to be unbelievable.
They heard a loud crack and Scott immediately shut his eyes and grabbed the armrests.
"What happened?" he asked in a panic stricken voice.
Hank's voice was one of awe. "You cracked the blast wall."
"I believe we'll have to improvise the rest of the tests," the Professor said drily.
"Told you," Scott commented unrepentantly.
* * *
They managed to continue testing Scott for the rest of the morning. The force that emanated from his eyes was frighteningly strong. Without doubt, unshielded, he could punch through a mountain.
Professor Xavier thought with gratitude of Fred Duncan and thankful that no one else had gotten hold of the boy. What he could do was truly alarming. Fortunately, Scott had no desire to cause destruction. But could he be taught to control this power? That would remain to be seen.
* * *
Over lunch, they discussed the findings. Or rather, the Professor and Hank discussed them. Scott merely ate his lunch and listened as they talked about him like he was an experiment. Which he didn't like at all.
"Quite honestly," Hank was saying. "The problem is fascinating. There have been some interesting studies on quartz crystals that might apply to this situation."
"Excuse me," Scott said tartly. "But I'm sitting right here. Don't talk about me like I don't exist; it's very rude."
Hank met Professor Xavier's eyes and bit back a laugh. Their previously silent teenager was finding his voice at long last.
"Last night you called me an 'energy converter,'" Scott said. "What does that mean?"
The Professor answered. "It means your body absorbs energy, in your case, we believe solar energy, and converts it into the blasts that come out of your eyes."
"Why my eyes?"
"We don't know," the Professor admitted.
"What is it that you think you can do for me?" Scott continued.
Professor Xavier looked at Hank before responding. "In order for you to learn how to control your gift, you have to have a safe way of practicing. Therein lays the difficulty. Your optic blasts are incredibly powerful, Scott. What we'd like to do, is find some kind of adaptive technology that can keep the beams under control, while you're learning to use them."
"What kind of adaptive technology?"
"Special eye wear might be the key," Hank chimed in now.
"Eye wear? You mean glasses?"
"Of a sort." Hank then launched into a lengthy and detailed discussion about the properties of certain quartz crystals and the affect some forms of energy had on them. He lost Scott after the first sentence.
"Okay," Scott replied, loathed to admit he hadn't understood a word. He paused for a moment and then asked, "What time does Jean come back?"
"She probably won't be back until the weekend," Hank offered. "She goes to medical school at Columbia and Salem Center is a long commute on a daily basis. She's here whenever she can get away."
"But Ororo and Warren will be back from school later this afternoon," Professor Xavier told him with a twinkle Scott couldn't see. It didn't escape his notice that Scott hadn't asked about them.
* * *