Note: This story started out as an answer to the song fic challenge posted on Jordanna Morgan's AniMag LJ. The song 'The World That He Sees' is from the group Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Their music is a mix of rock-n-roll and classical music. Their most famous song is 'Christmas Eve 24/ Sarajevo'. TSO has produced some of the most powerful and joyful music I have ever listened to. To hear some of their music, please go to: http: The characters of Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr belong to Stan Lee and Marvel Comics and are used here without their permission. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money is being made from it. I'm poor, please don't sue me.
The song 'The World That He Sees' is from the c.d. The Christmas Attic by Trans-Siberian Orchestra and are copyrighted by Lava Records LLC 2002, all rights reserved and are produced by Paul O'Neill for Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
The
World That He Sees
An
X-Men song fic challenge
By
Amy M. Denton
To live in a household surrounded by teenagers is to have an intimate understanding with the phrase 'controlled chaos'. With upwards of thirty-five teenagers at any one time in residence at The Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, things, belongings, stuff were scattered from one end of the massive mansion to the other. Books, bags, jackets, shoes, c.d.'s, d.v.d.'s, notebooks, homework, it was all there; everywhere, despite the efforts of the children to pick up after themselves.
There was, however, one area in the mansion that was always clean no matter what, and that was the path for Professor Xavier's wheelchair. Children new to the school learned this rule quickly and followed it religiously for there were consequences if they didn't. Consequences such as having their belongings moved without their knowledge.
"My c.d. was right here! Where'd it go?" The wail of an unhappy teenager reached Professor Xavier's ears as he made his way to his office late one afternoon.
"C'mon, Cass, you know that you gotta keep your stuff outta the Professor's way." A young male voice replied.
Professor Xavier paused for a moment and shamelessly eavesdropped.
"You're not helpin' Brian. I know I gotta keep stuff out of the way but it wasn't in the way. It wasn't on the floor. Help me look!"
"We don't have time to look. If we're late, we'll never hear the end of it. It'll turn up sooner or later. You can ask the Professor at dinner if he's seen it."
"I guess."
The Professor heard footsteps and the remaining bits of the conversation faded from his hearing range. He shook his head and continued on his way. The children were always losing something. The c.d. would, eventually, turn up and all would be right with the world. Until something else disappeared.
Midway to his office, a glint of light reflecting on something caught his eye and he stopped to investigate. It was a c.d., possibly the missing c.d. but he dismissed that thought after further examination. The c.d. in his hand was from an orchestral group, 'Trans-Siberian Orchestra' and, unless one of the children had started listening to classical music, it couldn't possibly belong to any of them. He taped the c.d. against his palm, it had to belong to one of the adults, possibly Kurt. He'd asked at dinner. In the meantime, he had a new c.d. to listen to.
It took the Professor all of ten seconds to realize that the music on the c.d. was nowhere near what an orchestra would play but that only piqued his interest to listen further. Apparently, 'Trans-Siberian Orchestra' was a rock and roll group that mixed classical music with electric guitars, drums and the occasional violin.
Intriguing.
He left the c.d. playing and started in on the giant stack of correspondence that awaited him on his desk.
And
He dreamed of another world
In
another time
And
another place
Where
no man
Has
to wear a sign
Saying
where's he from
Saying
what's his race
The lyrics pulled him from his letter writing and stilled his hand on the page. He reached over, hit the 'repeat' button and listened as the song began again.
There
was a cold winter night
Where
the dark went on forever
And
the world seemed like a
Dream
gone astray
He picked up the booklet that came with the c.d. and reread the label. Trans-Siberian Orchestra, The Christmas Attic
And
somehow there on this night
As
the world huddled together
There
a child slept at the end of
This
day
Are there mutants in this group? Mutant sympathizers? The Professor thought.
There would have to be. Otherwise, how could they so perfectly echo the dream of acceptance that he and so many other mutants and mutant supporters carried?
And
He dreamed of another world
In
another time
And
another place
Where
no man
Has
to wear a sign
Saying
where he's from
Saying
what's his race
And
He wants us to believe
This
world that He sees
He just sat there, stunned beyond words. He had always considered music to be one of the best messengers ever created. So much more could be said with the sung word than the written one and the song playing before him only proved his point further. How many minds had this song changed already?
What
is the dream of this night
Why
does it echo forever
Here
in the cold at the end of
The
year
And
with all of our different lives
Why
do we dream it together
When
at the first sign of snow it
Appears
He reached for a clean sheet of paper and copied down the name of the group, the name of the song, the album name, then flipped to the back of the c.d. booklet to retrieve the producer's name. He paused, though as the song came to an end, repeating its powerful chorus one last time.
When
He dreamed of another world
In
another time
And
another place
Where
no man
Has
to wear a sign
Saying
where he's from
Saying
what's his race
And
He wants us to believe
This
world that He sees
As the last notes faded away, he made a copy of the song, then finished copying down the producer's name. Any musical group that could capture one of mutantkind's biggest problems so well and so eloquently, deserved his wholehearted support.
The next two songs were instrumentals and allowed the Professor time to gather his thoughts. He left off his correspondence and turned to his computer. He opened the e-mail program and wrote:
Erik,
Listen to this song and think about why I sent it to you. Can't you see that we're fighting for the same thing?
Sincerely,
Charles
A click of the mouse pasted the song into the e-mail and another click sent it on its way but with no guarantee of it ever being received much less read and replied to. No one, either at the school or elsewhere for that matter, knew that he had probably the only working e-mail address for Erik Lehnsherr, a.k.a. Magneto, a mutant as powerful as himself but not nearly as principled. Erik was wanted by the federal authorities following his escape from their custody, last year, after he tried to turn the world's leaders on Ellis Island into mutants in a vain attempt to show that mutants were just like non-mutants.
The Professor stared at the computer screen for a few moments as if wishing a response to appear and, when none did, returned his attention to the still-waiting letters on his desk and forced himself to concentrate so he could finish. But his mind kept returning to the chorus of that song.
And
He dreamed of another world
In
another time
And
another place...
Powerful, powerful words.
"Professor Xavier?" the voice from earlier pierced his concentration and made him look up. Cassandra Nevy, 14, and one of the newer students stood in front of his desk, waiting.
He smiled, turned off the c.d. player and said "Yes, Cassandra, what can I do for you?"
"I'm not interrupting, am I? I can come back." Her hands twisted together.
"No, no, no, you're welcome in here any time. What do you need?"
Her eyes went to the c.d. jewel box on the Professor's desk. "I was looking for my c.d. and I heard it coming from this direction and I followed it and it lead me here."
Professor Xavier nodded and said "So, this is your c.d., the one you misplaced this afternoon?"
Cassandra's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates and all she could do was nod.
He turned to the c.d. player, hit the 'eject' button, then put the c.d. back in its case. "I applaud your choice in music." He said, handing the c.d. case back to her.
Cassandra stared at Professor Xavier first, then down at the c.d. as if she had never seen it before, then she looked back at Professor Xavier.
"You liked it?" she asked.
"Absolutely."
"Really?"
"Yes."
Cassandra chewed on her lip for a moment, at a loss for words. Finally, she said "Okay, thanks for finding it, bye." Then she disappeared, litterally.
The Professor chuckled. He just hear the conversation now.
'Professor Xavier listens to rock music!'
'He does not!'
'He does too! He was listen'in to my T.S.O. c.d. just now!'
It was always good to keep the children on their toes and this little tidbit would keep them going for weeks.
He looked at the stack of unfinished letters and sighed. That song had totally distracted him. His e-mail program chimed just then and he looked at the computer. It hadn't even been a half-an-hour. Could the message be from Erik? He clicked on the 'Get New Mail' button and discovered that Erik had, indeed, responded.
Charles,
Your taste in music is interesting and, yes, I know exactly why you sent this to me. We are fighting for the same thing but remember, everything that Hitler did in Germany was legal.
Erik
Professor Xavier shook his head in disbelief before deleting the message. Was Erik right? Was he on the losing side of the mutant rights fight? Would the police coming knocking his door one day looking for violators of the Mutant Registration Act? The very thought made his blood run cold.
He shook his head. He wasn't on the wrong side. He couldn't be. It had taken close to ten years to eradicate the Nazis and their brand of hatred was still being wiped out. Changing attitudes took time. Time and patience, both of which Professor Xavier had plenty of. One day, he and his students would triumph and be accepted for who and what they were. He had to keep that belief or there was no reason to keep fighting.
He cast one last look at the letters and gave up. He simply didn't have the interest to finish any more. Instead, he opened the music program on the computer, hit 'play' and let his thoughts wander.
There
was a cold winter night
Where
the dark went on forever...