Charles Xavier sat alone in his office late one night several weeks later. His fingers absently traced tiny patterns on his desk while he blankly stared forward. Finally, he gave a slow blink, then continued his blank stare.
Why must everything be so complicated? He had pondered this many times in the past, but yet again it was thrown back into his face. It seemed the world was against him, trying to make his task even harder than it already was. Why couldn't anyone just cooperate?
Neil, yes, Neil was a large source of his problems. The man could be so damn stubborn! Why couldn't he just do this one little thing? Honestly, was it really too much to ask? Just a few moments and it would have been over with. On top of that, he probably would have enjoyed it too. Here he was, the man who whined and complained about being the sole remaining 'real' human, and here he wouldn't help at all to fix his plight. Some people…
And then there was Katie. Naïve little Katie. Of course, he knew about her little adventures in the campus's basement, and her exploration of files and such. He didn't particularly mind. So she knew, so what? Maybe she would have at least cooperated with what he had been going to ask.
What did bother Xavier though was the fact that Scott held him responsible for Jean's death. How dare he! Xavier knew he would have to have a serious talk with Cyclops before too long. They couldn't afford feelings like that to remain amongst the X-men. It was feelings like that that led to his problems with the government.
Yes, He had known Gregory O'Meara a while back. During the few days after the accident, O'Meara had wandered across the mansion's grounds, stumbling and staggering. A vivid memory filled Xavier's mind as he remembered that day.
"Professor, Look," The gentle voice of Ororo Munroe called out to him, pointing off into the distance at something. From his window, Xavier spied a gray figure stumbling and staggering across the sharp looking manicured lawn that stretched across the mansion's southern side. Quickly, Xavier commanded Scott and Hank to go to this peculiar intruder as he focused more intently on him. His eyes unconsciously narrowed as his thoughts all became acutely focused on the man.
Suddenly, Xavier broke into the man's mind and the floodgates poured open. Bits and pieces of the man's mind flew through Xavier mind; images and words becoming jumbled and blurred. Charles was able to sort things out and watched from the man's perspective as he stood in downtown Times Square, New York City. People around him all wore fashions not seen for decades, and as the man's line of sight slowly turned, Xavier caught a glance towards a newspaper. November 1961. Charles felt the man's rising fear and pain as he collapsed to his knees on the crowded sidewalk, clutching his head. When he looked up, everything had taken on a stark, black and white hue. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision. As he cautiously stood, the realization hit him- he was seeing bones, not people. In panic, he rushed through the crowd, trying to find a quiet spot. He was terrified and thoughts whisked through his mind.
Xavier then paused, then sped quickly through the man's mind, simply rifling through flashes of scenes. The man in a tidy office, gazing out the window. Him with his wife. Their two children. Summer at their villa on the beach. Her look of fear when she discovered his secret. Divorce papers. Court. Empty Apartment. Running for Senate. Witnessing the early stages of the war, and then finally walking amongst the bodies minutes after the attack.
Charles then closed the mental link. So this man, a Greg O'Meara, was a mutant. It had been nearly a month since the attack and he still held out hope for finding human survivors. He sighed, pushing away those hopes. He would have to simply accept it sooner or later. They were gone. The very people he had been working so hard to save, to prove to them that mutants were friendly; he had killed.
Over the following months, O'Meara lived at the mansion. He spent a lot of time observing the way things worked and spent a great deal of his time conversing with Neil towards the end of his stay. Xavier didn't have any problem with that. Neil Branch seemed to be much more comfortable alone, the recluse that he was; but around O'Meara he seemed to open up and find a new wave of patience.
Another interesting thing about O'Meara was that he spoke what he thought. If he didn't agree with something, everyone in the mansion knew about it. When he learned for sure that Xavier had caused the attack, Scott and Logan had had to restrain him from attacking the professor. For the following weeks, O'Meara had been unnaturally quiet. Then one day afterwards, he had moved out. Nothing was heard from Gregory O'Meara for quite some time after that, a good two or three years at least. But then, suddenly there had been a newsbreak. An up-and-coming executive had announced the cause of the 2003 attack, a Charles Xavier of New York. He relayed his dramatic story to the press, tales of during his several months stay being tortured and locked away merely for disagreeing with the professor. The few remaining media sources had all flocked to the story, continuously brining it up again. The school had been flooded with calls from rather arrogant reporters making accusatory statements and demanding interviews. Students and other residents began dropping out.
Finally, Xavier accepted one of the interview opportunities. With Scott by his side, He publicly announced O'Meara's claims as 'ridiculous' and 'unfounded'. Later in his speech, he invited anyone to witness his school and it's methods. And so they did. Over the following two months, he kept the school officially open for inspection and a handful of makeshift government workers and crews observed everything that went on. During that period though, Xavier had had to send Neil briefly away, so he would not be discovered. Unfortunately, at the same time, Neil was having 'psychological difficulties', as Hank so delicately put it. But he called on a few favors, and with a little bit of persuasion, he had purchased a few islands and properties here and there across the country. One couldn't be too careful in matters such as this; he had justified.
And so, after examination upon examination, the school had been pronounced as perfectly safe, but O'Meara still had a credible case. He decided not to press charges though, and came out the hero in the end. That night, Xavier went carefully through all of the mansion's files and eliminated any trace of O'Meara. In the wee hours of the morning, he had finished his task with a great swell of satisfaction.
That was the last experience he had had with the man. Sure, he had watched silently as the man who had once lived happily in his school rose to power. He won the affection of the mutant population, and now had achieved the highest position of power, President of the United States. While it was true the US suffered from the attacks just like any other country, he had managed to regroup the nation in his last few years campaigning, and now the country was stronger than ever.
And now, now Xavier found himself oddly afraid of this man of all things. In reality, the man posed no threat that Xavier couldn't take on, but the sense of uneasiness remained. He sighed, and decided it was no use losing sleep over the matter. It was already approaching three in the morning, and he was still sitting up in his office. Having made up his mind, he promptly turned and began to wheel away. From where he sat, the letter he had been clutching for the past few hours drifted lazily to the floor. The cause of his worry, all contained in a small paragraph on a plain piece of paper.
The sentence that was typed on the paper reiterated in his head as he wheeled out of the room, closing the door behind him. 'I'm watching,' it had read. 'And your time is limited, Charles.' The letter was closed simply with O'Meara's name and a tiny hand drawn smiley face, sketched in a vivid red ink. But it didn't worry Charles Xavier. Really, it didn't. Not too much, at least.
At the same time that late night, Katie sneaked quietly in to the mansion's library. It was dark; the curtains were closed, blocking out the moonlight. She made her way over to the island of computers that sat towards the back of the library. When she had almost reached the island, she crashed into a cart of books which all fell down with a loud clatter. She swore under breath as she struggled to replace the books on the cart but quickly gave up in doing so as it was dark and she was making much more noise than she needed to be. She proceeded to make her way over to the computers.
Tentatively, she reached over and decisively it the keyboard with a quick flick of her wrist. The computer made a slight whirling noise before the monitor kicked to life. A blank blue screen stared back at her for a moment before a tiny white window popped up, asking her to log in. She sat down gingerly in front of the computer and entered into a temporary account. On one of her first days at the school, Scott had been explaining that until they got her account permanently set up, she should use a temporary one. Temps weren't monitored, nor could anything be saved on them. Even though now she had a real account, she certainly didn't want anyone to be monitoring what she was about to do.
Her fingers flew over the keys as fast yet as quietly as they could, entering the generic screen name of TEMP with as password of TEMP. The window disappeared and the screen returned to its prior blank blue. As she waited for it to finish logging her in, she withdrew a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. She unfolded it, smoothing the creases out against her jeans. Earlier she had been reviewing the newspaper she had gotten several weeks ago and had decided to look further into the people and events it discussed. Katie had also decided it would be best for her to do her research after everyone had long ago gone to bed. So here she was.
She glanced up and realized the computer had fully loaded. She faintly smiled in the pale blue glow the screen gave off as she opened up an Internet browser window. She then glanced down at the list that lay in her lap. She picked the first thing off her smudged list and typed it in to the first search engine she could find. She had entered 'Senate'.
Katie's eyes flickered up and down the screen as results for her inquiry popped up. Many of the summaries appeared to be referring to the old senate, the one she was somewhat familiar with. Realizing there were simply too many sites up, she decided to try her next topic.
Spain versus France. That brought up a few interesting results. She quickly browsed through a few mainstream new sites, but to her dismay found they had facts and statistics only, no real cause was stated. With a growing frustration, she entered the third topic: President O'Meara.
Katie thought she heard the sound of footsteps outside so she clicked on the first result. Her heart began to race as she heard the sound of the library door unlocking. Hastily, she hit the 'Print' button, and quickly logged out of the computer. The door creaked open as she dashed over to the printer.
"Katie?" A deep voice questioned. She spun around, snatching the completed paper out of the printer. In the doorway stood a rather tired looking Dr. McCoy.
"What are you doing up?" He questioned groggily.
"English paper." She stuttered. "It's due tomorrow," She added weakly.
Hank nodded absently. "The professor sent me down here to see why you were still awake. Go to bed," he commanded before turning and leaving.
Once he had left, Katie let out a deep breath. Her racing heart began to slow, though she doubted she would get much sleep after that quick adrenaline rush. But at least she had found something. Katie decided not to stay down in the library, as Xavier must have been checking on her. She would complete her reading in her room, hopefully alone.