A/N: Okay, glad you like it so far, hope its more interesting. Here's the next chapter!!
Disclaimer: I only own Tristian, everyone else belongs to Marvel Comics.
Chapter 4- Tristian
Jean closed the door, looking at the boy on the other side of the table. He wasn't really a boy, but a man. Definitely not a high schooler anymore. His eyes looked to old to still be in high school, possibly a college student, she wouldn't doubt he was around that age. He didn't look up at her as she walked in or as she sat down, just continued to spin back and forth from side to side.
"Hello," Jean greeted him, not knowing what else to say. "I'm Jean…what's your name."
He said nothing, made no expression. Just spun.
"Okay…you don't have to tell me, I'm not forcing you too. So…where are you from?"
No answer, he just spun. She studied him. He had to be at least six feet tall when he stood up. Underneath the black jacket and white t-shirt, she imagined he was well built, no sign of fat on him. By the look of his arms through the jacket he worked out. His blue green eyes were fixed on the table but she could see the hurt in them, swimming beneath the ocean surface. His face was oval shaped with cheekbones that a model would die for. His full lips a healthy pink and drawn in a slightly crooked line that made him look almost sad as he sat there, staring off. His dark black hair was cut short and stood up, not gelled though. She doubted he had a chance to even do his hair by the way he'd been treated so far.
"Okay, how old are you? Do you have any friends? What's your gift?"
She waited for five minutes, but got nothing.
"Listen," she leaned across the table towards him, talking softly. "I'm not going to stop until you at least give me some sign that you hear me. I know the others think you have a mental problem, that you're almost catatonic, but I don't. I know you hear everything I say, you just choose not to answer," she looked out at the glass, seeing her reflection but feeling the two on the other side.
Go away, please. I have it under control, she sent the message to both of them and felt them hesitate at leaving, not trusting the mutant. If I have a problem I'll send for you, I'll be careful, just go.
She waited a moment as she imagined they argued and then finally felt them go, leaving it to be just her and the trimutant. She turned back to him, now that they were alone she imagined she could work better with him.
She licked her lips, looking at him. "I know about you...at least that you're a trimutant and that you've no doubt lived a hard life where you were abused and chased away because you were different. I know what that's like believe me I do and I imagine it's been ten times worse for you…but I'm here to help you. I'm here to be your friend if you'll just trust me," she reached and grabbed his hand in her own, squeezing gently.
He stopped moving in his chair, eyes flickering to her hand in surprise.
"Please trust me," she asked him.
He stared at her hand and she waited for him to do something, say something. She hoped that her words had reached him in some way because if not she was out of ideas.
She sighed after a minute, "Fine, its okay. You don't have to say anything," she pulled her hand back but he squeezed it, stopping her.
"Tristian," he spoke, his voice slightly deep and soft all at once giving him a nice ring.
"Excuse me?" she frowned.
His eyes moved up, meeting her green ones and she could see the liveliness return to them. "You asked me what my name was, it's Tristian."
"Oh," she rolled the name around in her mind and smiled. "Tristian…I like that, very original."
"I like your name, too. Jean's a nice name, very simple."
"Jean Grey's my full name. I'm a telepathic and telekinetic," she told him.
"Tristian Shadow…least that's what I think my last name is…never knew my dad," he shrugged it off. "I picked the last name cause it went with me."
"What is your power?" she asked attentively and was glad when he smiled and told her a little.
"Shadows are my specialty, so is fire, hence my other name, Shadowfire. Then I have another talent that has to do with healing, not myself, but others…and then some," she saw the hurt swim in his eyes and decided not to press him.
"That's cool," she nodded, changing subject. "So…why were you so quiet?"
"I didn't really like him,' she jerked his head towards the glass. "The guy with the glasses."
"Why not?"
"Call it a sixth sense," he shrugged, holding her hand still. "But I can read people's character. I didn't like his aura feel. The lady was cool, but his was rough, suffocating almost. Seems like a stubborn, metal-headed guy. Like he's having a bad day."
"You got that much right," she smiled. "His names Scott. Also known as Cyclops due to his laser eye power, its why he wears the sunglasses, he can't control the optic blast without them."
"That's gotta suck," he said. "No wonder he's so bitter."
"The lady is Ororo, also called Storm. She controls the weather."
"Kick ass," he smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. She liked to see him smile, to see it reach his colorful eyes.
"Yeah, she's pretty strong."
"What about the blue guy with the accent?"
"That's Kurt Wagner, he's German. He's a teleporter."
He nodded his agreement, "And the guy that tried to snoop in my head."
"Professor Charles Xavier," she told him. "He's a powerful telepathic. He owns this school. He's very nice you'll like him."
"As long as he stays out of my head I might," he nodded.
"I'm sorry he did that. I'm really sorry they all did this," gesturing with her free hand across the room.
"They treated me in the beginning like I was four instead of twenty-four," he told her, least she had an age now. "Then when I pushed him out of my head and he figured what I was they locked me down here. I've been done here for a while now."
"I'm so sorry they did that."
"They fear me now," he sighed, looking at the table at her hand in his. "That always happens…I hate it when people fear me because then they won't get to now me. So far everyone fears me,' his eyes flicked up to hers. "Everyone but you…why?"
"I don't judge mutants on what they are, but who they are. I don't feel anything bad off of you Tristian. You don't feel like I bad guy and I've met plenty of them…I think you might like it here."
He squeezed her hand. "I think I might too."
She smiled, "Come on." She stood up, hand still in his. "Let's go."
He frowned, "Go where?"
"Well, the kitchen to start with. "I imagine you're hungry."
He nodded and stood, pushing the chair back. "Yeah, I can go for something to eat."
She opened the door wither mind, leading him out behind her and down the hallway to the elevator. "Then I'll get you a room to yourself since you're not a student and don't need to share and I'll introduce you to some students you just might very well like and ones I think you'll get along with just great."
Disclaimer: I only own Tristian, everyone else belongs to Marvel Comics.
Chapter 4- Tristian
Jean closed the door, looking at the boy on the other side of the table. He wasn't really a boy, but a man. Definitely not a high schooler anymore. His eyes looked to old to still be in high school, possibly a college student, she wouldn't doubt he was around that age. He didn't look up at her as she walked in or as she sat down, just continued to spin back and forth from side to side.
"Hello," Jean greeted him, not knowing what else to say. "I'm Jean…what's your name."
He said nothing, made no expression. Just spun.
"Okay…you don't have to tell me, I'm not forcing you too. So…where are you from?"
No answer, he just spun. She studied him. He had to be at least six feet tall when he stood up. Underneath the black jacket and white t-shirt, she imagined he was well built, no sign of fat on him. By the look of his arms through the jacket he worked out. His blue green eyes were fixed on the table but she could see the hurt in them, swimming beneath the ocean surface. His face was oval shaped with cheekbones that a model would die for. His full lips a healthy pink and drawn in a slightly crooked line that made him look almost sad as he sat there, staring off. His dark black hair was cut short and stood up, not gelled though. She doubted he had a chance to even do his hair by the way he'd been treated so far.
"Okay, how old are you? Do you have any friends? What's your gift?"
She waited for five minutes, but got nothing.
"Listen," she leaned across the table towards him, talking softly. "I'm not going to stop until you at least give me some sign that you hear me. I know the others think you have a mental problem, that you're almost catatonic, but I don't. I know you hear everything I say, you just choose not to answer," she looked out at the glass, seeing her reflection but feeling the two on the other side.
Go away, please. I have it under control, she sent the message to both of them and felt them hesitate at leaving, not trusting the mutant. If I have a problem I'll send for you, I'll be careful, just go.
She waited a moment as she imagined they argued and then finally felt them go, leaving it to be just her and the trimutant. She turned back to him, now that they were alone she imagined she could work better with him.
She licked her lips, looking at him. "I know about you...at least that you're a trimutant and that you've no doubt lived a hard life where you were abused and chased away because you were different. I know what that's like believe me I do and I imagine it's been ten times worse for you…but I'm here to help you. I'm here to be your friend if you'll just trust me," she reached and grabbed his hand in her own, squeezing gently.
He stopped moving in his chair, eyes flickering to her hand in surprise.
"Please trust me," she asked him.
He stared at her hand and she waited for him to do something, say something. She hoped that her words had reached him in some way because if not she was out of ideas.
She sighed after a minute, "Fine, its okay. You don't have to say anything," she pulled her hand back but he squeezed it, stopping her.
"Tristian," he spoke, his voice slightly deep and soft all at once giving him a nice ring.
"Excuse me?" she frowned.
His eyes moved up, meeting her green ones and she could see the liveliness return to them. "You asked me what my name was, it's Tristian."
"Oh," she rolled the name around in her mind and smiled. "Tristian…I like that, very original."
"I like your name, too. Jean's a nice name, very simple."
"Jean Grey's my full name. I'm a telepathic and telekinetic," she told him.
"Tristian Shadow…least that's what I think my last name is…never knew my dad," he shrugged it off. "I picked the last name cause it went with me."
"What is your power?" she asked attentively and was glad when he smiled and told her a little.
"Shadows are my specialty, so is fire, hence my other name, Shadowfire. Then I have another talent that has to do with healing, not myself, but others…and then some," she saw the hurt swim in his eyes and decided not to press him.
"That's cool," she nodded, changing subject. "So…why were you so quiet?"
"I didn't really like him,' she jerked his head towards the glass. "The guy with the glasses."
"Why not?"
"Call it a sixth sense," he shrugged, holding her hand still. "But I can read people's character. I didn't like his aura feel. The lady was cool, but his was rough, suffocating almost. Seems like a stubborn, metal-headed guy. Like he's having a bad day."
"You got that much right," she smiled. "His names Scott. Also known as Cyclops due to his laser eye power, its why he wears the sunglasses, he can't control the optic blast without them."
"That's gotta suck," he said. "No wonder he's so bitter."
"The lady is Ororo, also called Storm. She controls the weather."
"Kick ass," he smiled, revealing perfectly white teeth. She liked to see him smile, to see it reach his colorful eyes.
"Yeah, she's pretty strong."
"What about the blue guy with the accent?"
"That's Kurt Wagner, he's German. He's a teleporter."
He nodded his agreement, "And the guy that tried to snoop in my head."
"Professor Charles Xavier," she told him. "He's a powerful telepathic. He owns this school. He's very nice you'll like him."
"As long as he stays out of my head I might," he nodded.
"I'm sorry he did that. I'm really sorry they all did this," gesturing with her free hand across the room.
"They treated me in the beginning like I was four instead of twenty-four," he told her, least she had an age now. "Then when I pushed him out of my head and he figured what I was they locked me down here. I've been done here for a while now."
"I'm so sorry they did that."
"They fear me now," he sighed, looking at the table at her hand in his. "That always happens…I hate it when people fear me because then they won't get to now me. So far everyone fears me,' his eyes flicked up to hers. "Everyone but you…why?"
"I don't judge mutants on what they are, but who they are. I don't feel anything bad off of you Tristian. You don't feel like I bad guy and I've met plenty of them…I think you might like it here."
He squeezed her hand. "I think I might too."
She smiled, "Come on." She stood up, hand still in his. "Let's go."
He frowned, "Go where?"
"Well, the kitchen to start with. "I imagine you're hungry."
He nodded and stood, pushing the chair back. "Yeah, I can go for something to eat."
She opened the door wither mind, leading him out behind her and down the hallway to the elevator. "Then I'll get you a room to yourself since you're not a student and don't need to share and I'll introduce you to some students you just might very well like and ones I think you'll get along with just great."