Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of characters owned by Marvel or Kids' WB. This is set sometime in the third season, after 'Mainstream'.

Potential
An X-Men: Evolution fanfic by Bowles

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It was possibly his favorite place in all of Bayville – except for the school, of course – and in the winter it was only more enjoyable. The coffee from the little vendor in the corner of the book shop tasted even better after stepping in from the bitter cold, and the rows of shelves evenly dispersed throughout the room were even more inviting; a book was always more precious in the winter, when there was no sunshine beaming in the windows, and all one could want was to sit by a warm fire with only the company of Dickens, Rand, or Dostoevsky.

"Good morning, Professor Xavier," said the clerk as Charles passed him. "Any special orders I should put out for you?"

"Not today, Leon," Charles replied politely. "I'm just here to pick up a few gifts for my staff and students, and perhaps –" he gave Leon a small smile "– I might just have to pick up something for myself."

Leon smiled back. "Whatever suits you, Professor."

"Ah, I suppose if you really twist my arm about it then I must!"

It was rather quiet in the shop as Charles moved past the romance section, and this was perhaps what he liked best about it. Life at the school was so hectic – so exciting, really – that a little peace of mind was nice once in a while, but only in small doses. He'd become so accustomed to entering the kitchen in the morning to the sound of Evan and Scott arguing or the sight of Kurt hanging from the ceiling by his tail that quiet for any long period of time was unbearable. When the students were at school and the adults were out on other business, he found that the relative silence of the empty mansion was disturbing in the most subtle of ways, for it left him alone with his thoughts for hours at a time, and that itself was unsettling.

That was precisely why he adored literature so. Whenever he was alone and had no other work to attend to, he could merely open the nearest book and escape from his thoughts for as long as he wished, and that very escape was something he valued immensely.

He stopped in the home and self-help section (Ororo had mentioned a fabulous gardening book to him the other day, and he was certain she didn't have it – this was one occasion when telepathy came in handy) and scanned the titles with practiced precision. Quickly he found the book, which fortunately was on one of the bottom shelves, and placed it in the plastic sack that he'd picked up in the front of the shop. He was just about to move on when someone caught his eye.

"Well," he said in as even a voice as he could muster, "it's certainly a surprise to see you here, Lance."

The look on the youth's face made it evident that it was a surprise to him, as well. "Uh, hi."

"For what occasion have you stopped by the store?" Charles asked, but it was clear to both precisely what he meant: What are you doing in a book store?

"Why do you even ask?" Lance replied shortly, turning away from Charles and towards the shelves. "Can't you just find out anyway?"

"I could," he agreed, "but I try to practice good etiquette."

"Hm." The boy's fingers traced over the titles absently, and Charles could tell (without telepathy) that he wasn't really looking for anything at all, or at least not at the moment. "Pietro – I mean, Quicksilver," he said, correcting himself rather unenthusiastically, "wanted a cookbook. He said that me and Todd don't fix good enough meals."

Charles resisted the urge to shout out, "Todd and I!" and instead saved his lesson on correct usage of pronouns for another day. "Well," he continued, "do you know what cookbook you're looking for?"

"Not really," Lance admitted without even looking at him. "Quicksilver doesn't waste his time with the unimportant details."

"All details are important," he responded. His counterpart threw him an odd look but didn't question him. "I'd recommend the Miriam series, then, starting with the beginner volumes. They're excellent. After going over some of their recipes and instructions, even Kitty is improving. Her food is actually safe now."

"Oh. Thanks, I guess." Lance found it with ease, pulled it out, and tucked it under his arm. "How is she, then? Kitty, I mean. You know, school and stuff."

"She's doing well," Charles answered, noticing the change in the boy's appearance. He was facing him now, and looked to have lost some of his composure. "A bit stressed, of course, but I think all of the students are stressed at the moment."

"Yeah. That's good." Lance shifted uncomfortably, glancing around the room sporadically. "I'm glad she's doing good in school. It's really important to her. She was really freaked out when… well, you know."

"I do." The events of the meeting were not something one forgot with any ease, of course. "I believe that she's worried about you, now that you've been kicked out of school."

Lance snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure she's so worried about me."

"She is. I realize you have your doubts, but you may trust me on this." Charles chuckled. "I know my students very well."

"I'm sure you do."

His stand-offish behavior concerned Charles, although it did not surprise him in the least. He couldn't have honestly expected Lance to great him with any sense of enthusiasm; rather, he was encouraged that they were still talking, and the teen hadn't walked away. He could have and could still, but he hadn't, and that was a start.

"Personally I'm shocked you haven't started lecturing me about right and wrong," Lance said dryly, staring him in the eye for the first time. "You know, trying to convince me to denounce my evil ways and join the good side."

"I'm not that naïve, Lance. I assume that it would do no good."

"Smart assumption."

He sighed. "And besides, you've already given us one chance, and for that at least I'm grateful. You did not fail us – we failed you, and I am sorry for that. If you ever did have second thoughts, though, we would welcome you with open arms."

"Don't worry, I won't." Lance smirked to himself, but just barely. "Saving the world isn't my thing. I found that out the hard way."

"Saving the world may not be your 'thing'," Charles agreed, "but is destroying it?"

There was a pregnant pause before Lance finally spoke again. "No. But we're not really destroying it, anyway… at least not any more. We're just trying to make sure the house doesn't collapse on us or anything. Although with Magneto back and Speedy in charge, who knows if that's going to hold up."

"I do not believe that Magneto is so preoccupied with that at the moment," he replied vaguely, fully aware of what said mutant's mind was preoccupied with. "But if the situation ever changes, if the status quo ever changes, you are welcome at the school. You do not have to save the world to be a hero."

"I'm no hero, Professor."

"I think in time you will find that you are, to some degree at least, and that you will surprise yourself." Charles smiled. "I see greatness in you, Lance. I see potential that has yet to be reached, and that very potential, when you realize it, will alter the world around you. You have the world in your hands, but only as soon as you recognize that you do. You could be whatever you wished. You could be a villain, you could be a hero, but in the end, I think that you will find that you enjoy doing the right thing, that you enjoy being respected and loved no matter the circumstances, and that you will ultimately realize that potential to the fullest degree possible."

Lance was silent again, this time for a slightly longer period. "I don't know about that. I'm not sure if I believe it, really… it sounds like a bunch of bull. But I'll remember it, just in case, you know, it isn't."

"Well, then," Charles said, relieved, "that's all that I can ask of you."

The youth put his free hand in his pocket and merely stared at the professor for some time. "So are we supposed to fight now or something like that?"

"We don't have to."

"It seems like we do," he said. "We're always fighting over stupid crap like this."

"Hopefully one day we won't. I believe in time that we'll all find that we're quite similar."

"I kinda hope you're right," Lance replied, "but I think you're wrong. We don't have anything in common."

"Give it some time." Charles smiled again. "One day you'll find that you've grown old and weary, and then you may see that we are very similar."

"Yeah, I bet I will." He fiddled with a thread sticking out from his sweater absently. "I'd better get going."

"Very well. I hope your Christmas is enjoyable."

"Yeah… you too, I guess."

Without another look back he headed off out of the bookshop and out of sight. Charles watched as his figure grew smaller and smaller down the street, and as it disappeared into an alley some distance away. With book in hand, he moved on down the rows of shelves, and he couldn't help but feel a little bit vindicated. Lance Alvers may not have seen it then, and he may not see it ten years from then, but he would some day, and that itself was comfort enough.

"So, Professor Xavier," said Leon after Charles had finished finding his books (only two for his own leisure), "did you find what you needed?"

"Yes," Charles said, more to himself than the clerk, "I did."