Chapter 6: Settling In
Xavier raised his head finally. "Amy, when you got out why didn't you come here? When I saw you the last time I told you that if you wanted to come here this could be your home. Why did you not come to seek us out?"
Amy raised her streaming eyes, though she didn't let go of Bobby's shoulder. "I had spent all those months waiting for you to come visit, and you never did. I didn't know if you had forgotten, or if you just didn't care anymore. I was afraid to get my hopes up, and I was terrified you would turn me away. And I couldn't get here. The world is not designed to help people with disabilities. I can't even go grocery shopping, because I can't see what I'm picking out. I can't find jobs, because there are so few things that a blind person can do, and even fewer people willing to hire us. There are so few books written in Braille, and the phone book isn't one of them. I tried, once. I found an old phone book and asked someone on the street to find the number for me. Do you know what he did? He laughed at me. And then he threw the book at me and walked away. I didn't dare ask anyone after that."
"You asked Bobby, just now, if he would take you home. Do you truly wish to leave?"
Amy drew herself up. "Yes. You don't care, obviously, or you wouldn't have forgotten about me. I won't stay where I'm not wanted."
Xavier sighed. "Amy, please believe me when I say I'm sorry I forgot. I'm a busy man, and a lot has happened in the last six years. I would like you to stay. Give me a chance to make it up to you. Besides which, the Kingpin is out looking for you. Do you want him to catch you?"
Amy's lower lip trembled. "No," she said. "Mr. Andover sold me to him. He wants to play with me a while longer before he kills me. And I'm terrified, I don't want to die. Not the way he's likely to kill me."
Xavier said, "He won't touch you here. I promise you that. Amy, please. I don't want him to kill you. If you leave, I'll feel like I've failed you again. Please stay. If you are very unhappy, I will make other living arrangements for you, somewhere he won't find you. But please give us a chance."
Amy thought for a moment, then nodded reluctantly.
* * *
Jean walked in the front door and froze. Charles?
Xavier himself still sounded amazed. Your eyes aren't deceiving you, Jean. It's Amy. She was released from Mount Haven some months back because she went blind due to an…incident. They decided she couldn't possibly be a threat anymore because she could no longer see to use her powers.
Oh, God, Charles. Amy. How could we have forgotten her? She must hate us now.
Xavier sighed mentally. Not so much you, as me, he admitted. I promised to visit, and I didn't. The inmates and guards decided no one would care if she was injured, and subjected her to a number of indignities. She tried to fight the warden when he came to abuse her, and she injured him. In revenge he taped her eyes open and left her outside at noon. She is now permanently blind.
Jean gasped. Oh my God. Oh, poor Amy. Charles, isn't there anything the medical equipment can do?
Unfortunately not, Hank says. Jean, I feel terribly guilty for forgetting about her.
You couldn't help it, Charles, Jean said comfortingly. A lot has happened since we last saw her.
It still doesn't make me feel any better, Xavier insisted. She doesn't want to be here, but I insisted. The Kingpin is looking for her in the city; her employer at the strip club—and Jean heard the disgust in Charles' mindvoice—sent Amy to the Kingpin this morning. Fisk apparently heard her singing and paid Amy's employer to 'have her' for the day. She was beaten badly and tossed out into the street. It took her most of the day to figure out where the club was so she could try and get back to her apartment in Hell's Kitchen.
Hell's Kitchen…for a blind woman? Oh jeez, Charles.
Bobby ran into her not far from the club, stumbling down the sidewalk, far gone in heat exhaustion. She's got a bad sunburn as well as terrible bruising on her back. I couldn't let her go back to her apartment, as much as she wanted to. She's too easy to find. I told her she could stay here, and if she proved really unhappy, I would find somewhere else for her to live. But I want her to stay here with us for a while.
Jean smiled gently. Bobby had seen her, and nodded a greeting to her, but Amy wasn't aware of her presence yet. She was feeling her way slowly down the hall, trying to acquaint herself with the location of everything in her way. The sound of her cane tapping on the floor provided a soft counterpart to Bobby's patter of speech. Jean followed them, watching.
"There's a hall table just in front of you, Amy. No, off to your right a little. That's it." He took her hand and gently stretched it out to the table, then ran her hand along it. "It's solid wood, with a dark cherry finish. I think 'Ro was dusting it earlier."
"She was," came Amy's reply. "I smell furniture polish. And there's no dust." Her hand ran along the table as she passed it, then she stretched a hand out on front of her uncertainly as her cane hit something solid. "Bobby? What is it?"
Bobby said, "There are three steps going up to the kitchen. They're shallow, maybe two inches high at the most. Here." He took her arm, led her gently up to the step, and helped her balance as she tried to put her foot on the first step. "They're only two inches deep, so there's not much of a step there for you to stand on. I didn't even think about them; most of us just jump them." He grinned, though Amy couldn't see it. "I used to bring my skateboard in here and use it to practice jumping. Jubilee had a heck of a time with her rollerblades too." He eased her up the next step. "One more, now," and Amy was standing in the kitchen.
He paused there in the door. Where to start? The kitchen was huge. He sighed. He took being able to see for granted. How was he to explain how everything looked, and where everything was, to someone who could not see?
Jean sensed his dilemma. "Bobby," she said gently, taking Amy's other arm. "Maybe this will be easier. Amy, will you let me into your mind?" She felt the other girl's resistance. "I'm not going to rummage through it. I can show you what I see. It will be easier for you to get an idea of what the mansion looks like through my eyes." After a moment, Amy let Jean into her mind.
Before her mental eye the kitchen unfolded. The sink and dishrack just beside the open kitchen door; the dishwasher under it, the countertop with its assortment of jars and containers filled with spices and cooking aids; the two coffeemakers sitting side by side at the end of the counter beside the big stainless steel refrigerator, and the refrigerator itself, with it's shopping list hanging on it from a magnet, and other messages that the mansion's residents left for each other. Then the large kitchen table with its six chairs and its warm honey walnut finish pushed over in the corner to leave the front of the back door open; and everything bathed in the warm orange glow of late afternoon sunshine flooding in from the huge kitchen window.
Still mentally linked to Jean, Amy took a step forward. And it was so peculiar, to see her own body stepping into that picture in her head, but that wasn't what was concerning her at the moment. She crossed the kitchen carefully, watching herself step around the table, and pushed back the curtain in the window. Jean walked into the kitchen, walked over to the window, and looked out, and Amy's sightless eyes filled with tears as she looked out onto the manicured back lawn, the grass green and vibrant, the summer flowers planted in beds around the bases of trees suffused with color. "I missed this," she choked, the tears falling unheeded down her cheeks. "Oh, God, I missed this so much."
"What's the last thing you remember seeing?" Bobby asked gently.
Amy sucked in a breath. "Blue sky, clouds drifting by. Then nothing but the terrible blinding brightness of the sun. It burned into my eyeballs, searing my vision with white heat. It was all I saw for days. Finally the whiteness faded to black when I was in The Coffin, and it's been black since." She drew in a breath. "Oh, what I wouldn't give to be able to see again…" Her chin fell to her chest, and she cried soundlessly for a moment. Bobby touched her shoulder, patting it gently as she heaved with silent sobs. She turned away from the window and buried her face in his chest. "Please, Jean," she whispered. "Don't tempt me with the sight of something I'll never see again." Jean withdrew from Amy's mind gently, leaving Amy enshrouded once again in darkness.
Amy wept against the strong, comforting bulk of Bobby's chest. The glimpse of the garden had reminded her again of just how much she'd lost, and the reminder hurt. Her hands came up to wipe away the tears, and she said "Bobby…I don't remember what you look like…can I touch you?"
"Jean can show you," he said, but Amy shook her head.
"I'll never be able to see again, and there's no point in wishing I can. I have to deal with what I have. Please, Bobby, can I…"
"Yes," and Bobby held still as Amy's slim fingers came up. Her fingertips traced the line of his jaw, the smoothness of his cheek (he was glad he'd taken the time to shave this morning) up along the strong, firm planes of his cheekbones and nose, then gently, ever so gently, touched his eyes. He closed them, but he knew she could feel his eyes twitching under their lids. Her hands touched his hair, feeling the tousled strands under her fingers, and she ran her hands through it, gently. He lowered his head so she could feel the length of it in back, and found himself very close to her face.
Amy felt his warm breath whoosh past her ear. He smelled of peppermints. She turned her face toward the direction that breath was coming from just as he started to pick up his head. Their lips touched.
Bobby was startled…but her lips were soft against his, and parted ever so slightly, and he wanted to kiss her back…but she'd been through a lot of trauma this morning. He froze, torn between wanting to pull back and wanting to pull away, but her arms came up around his neck and drew him down in a plainly inviting gesture. He surrendered and kissed her.
Amy lost herself in the kiss, ignoring the tiny voice in the back of her head that warned her not to. It had been far too long since she had felt anyone touch her in a caring, gentle, loving way. As Bobby's hands came up to caress her shoulders (being careful not to touch the bruises) she caressed his waist and firm abs, feeling the muscles of his torso glide silkily under his skin.
Jean held her breath, unwilling to disturb them. A distant part of her mind whispered that Bobby and Amy were getting too close too soon, but she couldn't bring herself to stop them. Amy had felt nothing but painful touches and brutal abuse for a long time; it was a good thing that she hadn't allowed it to color her perceptions of another person's touch. A long-buried memory surfaced; Bobby, six years ago, asking Jean if she thought the overseers of the orphanage would allow him to go over there occasionally to see Amy.
They broke off the kiss when breathing became a necessity, and both stood, breathing deeply and looking slightly flushed. Jean smiled. "Bobby, perhaps you should show Amy to her room. She must be tired, after all that's happened. And she'll want to clean up before dinner."
* * *
Bobby waited in the doorway of the room while Amy went in. She moved hesitatingly, her cane making little sound on the thick carpet as she worked out where the bed, dresser, chair, and standing mirror was. "Is this a mirror?" she said, tapping the large cheval glass in the corner.
"Yes." Bobby frowned. "You haven't much use for one, though…let me see what I can do; maybe we can change the mirror out for a bookshelf for your books."
"I'd like that," Amy said, her face brightening. Bobby watched the expressions crossing them; her eyes, though blank, could still transmit a wide range of emotion. She walked carefully across the floor from the bed to the dresser, turned, and went back, several times, counting the steps. Bobby watched her do the same for the mirror, and chair. Finally, she turned. "Where's the bathroom?"
Xavier had put her in a room with its own bathroom, reasoning that if she had to get up in the middle of the night it would be easier for her to have facilities where she could reach them, instead of having to fumble down the hall toward the bathroom. Bobby took her arm and led her to the desk, then guided her hand to the wall and showed her where the doorframe, and eventually the doorknob, was to the bathroom. She walked inside, felt the light switch, the sink with its taps, then the top of the commode and the seat. Her hand touched the towels hanging on the towel rail, and then her cane stopped at the foot of the bathtub, though her outstretched hand found nothing but air. "Bobby?" she said uncertainly. He went to her side, took her outstretched hand, and brushed her fingertips against the shower curtain.
Her face lit up. "I'd like to take a shower," she said. "Are my clothes still out in the van?"
Bobby smiled a little. Ororo had brought the boxes of Amy's things in from the van before she ran out to the local pet shop to get a litter box, litter, and cat food for Carl. Xavier didn't really want pets around the mansion, but Amy loved the cat and Carl was clearly not going to leave her, so he had resigned himself to having cat hair propagating through the mansion. He couldn't deny Amy anything right now; if he did she might take it as a sign she wasn't wanted, and try to return to her apartment. And they were so far away it would take her a very long time to get back there, as well as being dangerous if any of The Kingpin's hired thugs were looking for her. He'd left a message with Matt Murdock to have Daredevil contact him; the 'Red Demon', as criminals on the streets called him, knew every detail of the Kingpin's activities and would be able to keep Charles apprised of the happenings in the city's underworld.
"Your stuff is on your bed," he said. "'Ro carried it up here while you were taking the tour." Amy hastened back to the bed, almost tripping over it in her haste, and opened the first box. It had her jeans and shirts in it. Bobby noted that the colors seemed to clash; she would need new clothes. Jean would probably be happy to oblige there. Amy grabbed a pair of blue jeans and a bright green t-shirt, then kicked off the high heels she had been wearing and took out her sneakers and a pair of socks, as well as a set of undergarments, and disappeared back into the bathroom. "Amy?" Bobby said to the closed door. "Let me have the other clothes you're wearing right now. I'll toss them out for you. I don't think you want them."
The door opened, and a hand thrust out a handful of torn cloth and spiked heels. Bobby took them, and the hand disappeared.
He left her room and went down the hall to drop the clothes in the wastebasket in the regular bathroom. Then he turned and headed back to his room.
He hadn't closed her room door. Rolling his eyes at his stupidity, he reached for the knob to close the door and froze when he heard her sob.
He told himself he was intruding, but he couldn't help it. He slipped into her room, closed the door, and went to the bathroom door. It was ajar. He pushed it open just the tiniest bit, and saw Amy sitting on the edge of the bathtub, her back to the door. Her spine was arched as though she was in pain, and she was hissing pained sobs through her teeth.
"Amy? Amy, what's wrong?" He knelt next to her where she sat crying.
"The water…it was too hot. It hit my back, and it hurt…" she sucked in another breath through her teeth. Bobby looked at her back. It was red where the water hit it. "I thought it was the cold tap. The left knob was the cold tap back in my apartment."
Bobby bit his lip. He hadn't even thought about that. Getting up, he grabbed the smaller washcloth and soaked it with cold water in the sink, then carefully pressed it to her back. She hissed, and her face twisted, but she made no other sound.
He held the cool cloth to her back, trying to ease her pain. He was glad she couldn't see his face, as he looked at her nude body.
He barely noticed her nudity. She had a nice body, slender and toned, but her skin was marred by the huge mass of white scar tissue that covered the left side of her body. Over that was more scar tissue from what looked like a bad beating. And on top of all that was the bruises from The Kingpin's beating. "Amy?" he said quietly. "The large scar was from the car accident; Jean told me about it a long time ago when you first came here. Where did you get the other scars from?"
"The guards were allowed to use corporal punishment, Bobby," Amy replied softly. "They didn't always use it because I did something wrong. And they always drew blood." She fell silent.
Bobby whispered, "I'm sorry, Amy." He said no more; concentrating instead on what he was doing.
