Chapter 1

Jean turned again when she heard the door open and a voice behind her. "You must be Jean." The woman said in a pleasant and friendly voice. She had light brown skin, long snow-white hair, and the most piercing blue eyes Jean had ever seen. She was dressed in a white peasant top, a long purple skirt with bead work on the bottom edge, earth tone flats, anda pink scarf in her hair to keep it off her face. Jean thought she was very beautiful.

"Hi." Jean said offering her black-gloved hand. "Yes, I'm Jean Grey."

"Jean," the woman smiled and introduced herself as Ororo Munroe then invited Jean inside. "You arrived at the perfect time, Jean. Practically everyone is still at school right now, but they should all be home within the hour. I have a few things to finish, so I'll show you to your room and you can unpack and get yourself settled in and then I'll take you on a tour of the mansion and you can meet everyone. But let's go meet the professor first." Ororo guided her down a hallway lushly carpeted in wine red and painted a gold-yellow. Every here and there, there were small rosewood table with blue and white China vases on them filled with all different types of fresh flowers, and above them, paintings that seemed to pull all the colors around it into itself and reflect them back in beautiful depictions and portrayals of nature in fairy-tale-like places. Jean liked her new surroundings, they suited her more than she thought they would.

They stopped finally at a wooden door with a brass knob. Ororo knocked and turned the knob. She indicated for Jean to follow her into the equally lushly adorned office. Directly opposite the door stood a massive desk that practically dominated the room; behind it was a man whose head was bowed over a book. He looked up when Ororo and Jean entered the room. Ororo shut the door and gestured for Jean to sit down in one of the armchairs in front of the desk. Jean set her suitcase down beside her and removed her backpack. She folded her hands in her lap while she waited for theman to speak. He was very friendly looking. A man in his fifties or sixties, bald, dressed in a charcoal gray suit and dark blue tie. His eyes were calm; Jean couldn't tell the color from where she was sitting, but there was a sparkle in them she didn't normally see in most people when they first looked at her. She knew immediately that she was in a good place; and for some strange reason she felt that she knew the wheelchair-bound man behind the desk.

He smiled kindly at her and pushed a button on the right armrest of the char and motored out from behind the desk and forward toward the front of it, hands folded in his lap, like Jean. He introduced himself as Charles Xavier, the founder of the school. Jean had heard the name around her home before, and it struck a cord in her memory, but she couldn't quite place it. "You know why you're here, Jean." He said softly. "You know I can help you." Jean nodded and shifted in her seat a bit. She was starting to feel uncomfortable. The man smiled at her. "Don't be afraid, Jean. You're safe here. I'm going to help you." Help me what, Jean thought. "To gain control." Xavier looked at her. Had he just heard her thoughts? Jean felt her hands begin to shake. Her father had told her she was going to a "different" place with "different" people. He had come out and said it as she left the car. She was going to be living with mutants, and that she was one, and that she should feel no shame in it. They still loved her. Jean tried to remain calm, but she could now feel the chair begin to shake beneath her. Jean grasped the armrests and her eyes squeezed shut. Within a minute the shaking subsided and Jean opened her eyes slowly. "Do you understand your being here now, Jean?" Xavier asked calmly. Jean nodded.

Ororo escorted her out of the office a few minutes later. She was now holding a white clothing box under her arm. She guided Jean back down the hall into the grand foyer, which she had walked through when she first arrived, and up a wide set of stairs. They walked down another hall decorated the same as downstairs. Ororo stopped at the third door in on the left side. "This is your room." She said unlocking the door and handing Jean the key then she handed her the box. "And this is for you also. Get settled in and then I'll take you on a full tour." Jean nodded, thanked her and entered her new room. Opposite the door were three floor-to-ceiling windows accented by long white curtains. French doors in the center of the windows led to a small veranda encompassed by wrought iron.

The room itself was a pale white with a lavender accent. The carpet was lavender, and a border of mint leaves went around the tops of her walls. A queen-size bed stood against the wall in front of her facing out. It already had clean sheets on it and was made up with one large pillow and several throw pillows. The top blanket was a shade of faded red and went well with the carpet. A desk and dresser stood on the opposite wall the bed was on, and a double mirror-door closet was tucked into the corner by the door. It was certainly spacious enough. Jean let her suitcase drop from her hand and then slung off her backpack. She knelt down and unzipped the back section of it and withdrew her digital camera. She turned it on an began taking pictures of the bare room.

When she finished she set the camera down on the nightstand beside the bed then removed her laptop from her backpack. She opened the lid and a new WORD document and began typing. She was writing to her sister about how much she missed her and how much she wanted to be home with her; but she also said how much she liked the institute and that the people here were nice. She hadn't met anyone else beside the professor and Miss Munroe. She ended with "Hugs and Kisses, Jean. Tell Paul I said Hi!" Jean saved the document and shut the lid on her computer. She sat on the floor for a minute holding onto her laptop and feeling tears welling in her eyes. She wiped them away before they could fall and stood. She placed her computer on the desk then placed her suitcase and backpack on the bed and began unpacking.

She didn't have much beyond sufficient clothes, shoes, and other wear, a few purses and all her favorite books. Her parents and sister had given her money so she could go out and buy herself more clothes if she wanted to. She would, she had to. Jean placed the envelope of money in the nightstand drawer and returned to her unpacking. As she lifted a pile of neatly folded shirts from her suitcase she came across a framed picture of herself with her arm around a girl her age with dark brown hair and dark brown eyes, and a brilliant smile that matched the redhead's next to her. Jean ran her fingers down across the glass covering the picture, remembering. She could still hear Annie's screams in her sleep, feel her dying. Jean hated herself. She had just sat there, doing nothing while Annie died in her arms. She had felt her die. Cradling the picture tight Jean let a single tear fall. She wiped them away again before more could fall. No more crying, she thought, that's all over, it's been two years. Jean clutched the picture tight again; then she finally let it go and placed it in the nightstand on top of the envelope. She took another minute to collect herself and again returned to her unpacking. When everything was put away where it all belonged; clothes in the dresser and closet, and all the school supplies she had purchased the day before she left Annadale-on-Hudson neatly put away in the desk; Jean opened the white box. Inside lay some strange outfit. It was all black except for the flat shoulder pads, which were red with black Xs, and a long neon green triangle starting from the chest to the crotch. Jean looked at it with disgust for a moment. Was it supposed to draw eyes downward? She shook her head and folded the strange outfit back up and placed it back in the box and placed the box under her bed. She sat down on the bed itself and let her hands fall into her lap with a deep sigh. She reached behind her neck and began to undo the scarf tied around her neck. She slid the dark purple scarf off and shrugged off her dark brown overcoat. Underneath she was wearing a lighter brown sweater and dark tan dress pants with spike heels and pointed toe shoes. The whole outfit had been a gift from her brother-in-law, Paul Bailey, as a going away gift. She'd promised she's wear it and she had. She loved it. Jean kicked her shoes off, since the ends were pinching her toes, and tossed them toward the closet. She ran her hands up her neck into her hair. She jumped suddenly when there was a knock on her door.

"Jean, it's Ororo, are you settled in?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm all done."

"Do you want to go on that tour still, or do you want that to wait? Dinner is almost ready."

"I'll do the tour." Jean said opening the door. She snuggled her glasses on. She loved her glasses, they made her feel smart.

"Good. Follow me."

Jean met nearly everyone on the tour and got a good feel for the whole mansion. She especially enjoyed the library, and not just for the books, but the welcoming space of it. She knew where she would be spending her evenings from now on. Ororo left the stables for last. They reached them just as the sun was setting. Ororo swung one of the huge doors open and gestured to Jean to step inside. The sweet smell of hair mixed with the odor of horses. For one brief moment, in the whole silence of the place, Jean felt at peace. The silence was shattered, however, when the whinny of a mare rang out from one of the back stables. Jean looked up. The chestnut mare was thrashing in her stall.

"That's Maple, she's been like that for over a week. I think she's scared of something out here, but I don't know what it is."

"Maybe I can tell. My sister and I used to ride horses all the time when we were younger. We got to know them very well, and eventually learned to read them through their eyes and movements." Jean walked carefully over to the stall and untied the rope that disallowed the horse from escaping. She slipped inside the stall and held the rope tight in her fingers. "Hey, Maple, what's wrong sweetheart?" Jean asked gently. She reached out carefully to stroke the horse's snout. She liked it enough to shut her eyes and calm down for a moment. "Good girl. How old are you?"

"Three." Ororo called.

"You're beautiful. I bet you're just lonely. All you need's a good friend. How would you like me to be that? Would that be ok with you if I were your friend?"

The horse clopped its hoof on the floor and grunted again. A yes perhaps? "Ok, deal. We'll be friends." Jean looked over at Ororo with a smile of confidence. The young woman stood there with her arms crossed, amazed as she watched Jean stroke the horse's snout and play fingers through its long mane. It seemed as if Jean would fit in well after all.