A/N: I apologize for the wait for this chapter. My computer crashed, and I thought I was going to lose everything. Thanks to a good friend, though, it was all recovered. I know this installment is short, but it's meant to be. There's more coming soon.
"The mansion was built in the late 1800's, by one of Professor Xavier's ancestors. It's been in his family every since."
Scott Summers glanced over his shoulder, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the awe he knew must exist. Xavier's Institute was an incredible piece of architecture, even excluding the incredible technological additions, and very few people who visited it were not affected by the hundred year old red brick, copper tile roofing, and etched glass windows. The quality of construction was something rarely seen in newly built houses these days, where the goal seemed to be to create as many homes as quickly as possible, with little to no regard for architecture or design.
Unfortunately for Scott's ego, it appeared as if Benjamin Cain was one of those few who found more interest in the toes of his sneakers than he did the historical mansion rising up before him. He had submitted to Scott's tour with the reluctant acceptance of a man wary to upset a newly found good opportunity. He now followed several steps behind Scott and Jean, trudging along the gravel path that led from the garage where they had parked the Audi to the front entrance of the mansion.
Dusk had already fallen, and the night was coming on quickly. Activated by light sensors installed in their heads, a series of knee high solar powered pathway lamps came on, illuminating the gravel beneath their feet. The light bounced off the small, waist high shrubs that lined either side of the lane, creating interesting shadow patterns across the rock.
Up ahead, the sound of a door slamming shut echoed down the path. An obviously feminine voice called out into the night.
"Remy, wait! Please!"
The chest high rod iron gate at the end of the gravel laneway swung open, and a tall, lean, auburn haired man strode angrily through, slamming the gate behind him. The ankle length light brown leather duster he wore billowed out theatrically in his wake; he brushed past Scott and Jean without sparing them a glance.
"Stop, Remy!"
The rod iron gate was opened a second time, admitting a stunningly beautiful white haired woman. She was dressed in a lacy nightgown, barely covered by a soft pink silk bathrobe cinched loosely overtop. Ben watched her run barefoot over the sharp gravel, before realizing with a start that her feet didn't appear to touch the ground at all. She ran as though she was cushioned on air, and when a gentle breeze lifted Ben's hair as she hurried past him, he knew that it was entirely possible. It seemed as though the world that had just opened up to him in the span of day was limitless with its possibilities.
Another door slammed further down the path, back in the direction of the garage, then a motor revved up, loud and angry. Ben, who used to work as the resident mechanic back at the group home, recognized it as not belonging to any car he had ever known, and thus, given the varieties of vehicles that had passed through his care, he knew the noise had to be coming from a motorcycle of some kind. The engine rumble reached its peak, and abruptly dropped several decibels as the rider shifted gears. Then an offensive shriek of rubber burning onto pavement streaked through the air, and the noise eventually began to fade as the motorcycle sped into the distance.
Ben turned slowly back to Scott and Jean, who had also stopped to regard the drama unfolding before them. They were standing about a foot apart, facing each other, and though they were neither touching, nor speaking, their eye contact was unwavering, and unhesitating. Neither individual looked anything but normal on their own, but when considered together, in the same context, goosebumps broke out on Ben's lower arms as a chill ran down his spine.
"You must be Benjamin."
He whirled around at the sudden voice, furious at himself that he had not seen its speaker coming. The same woman who had just moments ago raced by him like the very flames of hell were licking her feet now walked towards him, with a welcoming smile on her face. He noticed instantly that she had taken steps to make herself look more presentable; the silk robe was cinched tighter around her waist, and she had managed to procure a pair of worn leather loafers. She had also gathered her elbow length snow white hair at the nape of her neck, and tied it securely.
"My name is Ororo Munroe. I'm sorry to interrupt your tour so rudely." She spoke with an accent that Ben could not place, having never left New York, and without regular access to a tv.
"Ben, Ororo works with us at the Institute," Jean spoke up, suddenly standing next to him, and reaching down slowly to touch his shoulder. "She teaches a few different history courses, and helps Scott out with the English workload."
Ben noticed that none of the trio surrounding him made mention of what had gone on only moments before. Not only that, but no one cared to explain why this history teacher had been quite literally walking on air. He nodded, filed the whole exchange in the back of his mind for later consideration, and looked expectantly at Jean.
She took his not-so-subtle hint, and smiled. "Well, it's getting late. I guess we should be getting on with this tour."
She took the elbow Scott offered her, and they continued towards the mansion together. Ororo fell into step next to Ben himself, although she made no attempt at conversation.
They reached the ornately designed rod iron gate separating gravel path from paved courtyard. Ben, who had been walking with his head hanging until only recently, abruptly stopped walking, craning his neck upwards in an attempt to take in all of the mansion that rose up before him. The courtyard in which they stood was surrounded on three sides by the front entrance of the mansion, and two wings on either side. Thick, bright red ivy climbed up the red brick walls on either side of the courtyard, reaching all the way to the roof, although it was neatly trimmed along the lines of the gutters. Ben could make out at least three floors, although there were so many variables he couldn't be sure. The front doors could only be reached by a set of concrete steps leading up to a pair of mahogany doors at least twelve feet high.
"It is quite a sight, isn't it?"
Ben couldn't take his eyes off it long enough to find out who had spoken. The front steps were surrounded on both sides by landscaped gardens with a variety of different plant life, some in full bloom with just as many with simple green foliage. A statue carved from marble stood in the centre of the courtyard, lit from beneath with three separate spotlights. Ben recognized the figure as the mystical Phoenix rising from the ashes.
Scott caught the look of awe he had been waiting for all night, and smirked knowingly at Ben. "You should see the inside."
It never occurred to Ben that such a magnificent structure would even have an inside. Living in New York, he had seen countless feats of architecture, but had never stepped inside one. The thought that the inside might not do justice to the outside made him reluctant to want to step through those great mahogany doors.
"We don't usually use this entrance," Jean explained, as they climbed the cement stairs to the front door. She grinned, then continued. "It's great for theatrics, but not very practical. There's a side entrance we'll show you that's much easier to use."
As if providing proof for the impracticality of such immense doors, it required both Scott and Jean to push open one, although neither seemed to mind.
As if sensing his reluctance to enter, Ororo smiled reassuringly at him. "I know it's a little overwhelming," she spoke softly, and Ben was confident the remainder of their group could not hear her words. "But as big and impersonal as it seems, this mansion is home. I hope you can give it a chance."
He didn't care to mention to her that in all likelihood, he would not be staying. Jean and Scott now stood inside the open doorway, and try as he might, Ben could not see into the mansion behind them, a result of the backlighting of the statue in the courtyard. He glanced once more at Ororo, and surprised himself by finding strength in her unwavering gaze. It was unlike Ben to need support from anyone other than himself, but he realized this woman was unlike anyone he had ever met. The same could be said for the two people waiting for him on the other side of the threshold. It was the first time he had met anyone who seemed to have his best interests at mind. Of course, he realized this was taking a great leap of faith, especially for him, but he found he wanted it. He wanted to take a chance like he had never before, and more than anything he wanted that chance to pay-off.
He dredged up a partial smile for Ororo, and with his hands clenched into nervous fists at his sides, he stepped through the doorway, and across the threshold.