X-Men-First Class: Rise or Fall
Chapter Eight
Author's Word: I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Personally, I loved Black Friday. Thanks so much for the great reviews!
Master Cassidy, please come see me.
Master Cassidy? Sean repeated from within. When Charles sprouted out the full-blown Brit formalities, that just did not bode well. Of course, his use of the word please brought a larger deal of comfort compared to Erik's frequent choice word, now.
Sean attempted to hold his head up high as Frank and Becky got to leave the library while he had to approach the desk Charles sat behind.
"Yes?" Sean responded to the older man.
Charles handed a thin stack of papers over to him. "I believe we need to have a conversation."
Sean took quick note of his name at the upper right hand corner of the first page but the circled C- really got his attention.
"I guess we just have different views of The Count of Monte Cristo?" Sean attempted an explanation.
"Quite possibly," Charles said, his countenance clearly not buying such a sorry excuse. "Something I know we have different views on is what counts as a satisfactory homework assignment."
"It's one bad grade," Sean argued. "You know I can make it up."
"Oh, I know," Charles stated undoubtedly. "Because your last two papers seem to have the recurring pattern of a strong lack of effort but just enough to not fail entirely. It's quite the disciplined writing technique. Erik and Hank have noticed the same things."
Sean sighed, unsure of what to say; as if anything he brought to the table could be a decent refute.
"Sean," Charles went on, "I understand that having acceptance from one's peers is greatly important at your age. I've been there myself. However, deliberately degrading your own intelligence speaks against your character, not in favor of it."
"I know, Charles," the tall teenager admitted. "It just gets old having to deal with this stuff. I know Alex and Frank don't mean anything by it but it's the same old story as back home. Teachers prop me up, the guys make fun of me, and girls avoid me."
"Do you want me to speak to them about toning the comments down?" Charles suggested.
"No," Sean shot down immediately. "Charles, I'm not Joey. I don't want you fighting my battles."
"I understand." Charles then nodded towards the papers in the boy's hand. "Tonight, I want you to re-visit our friend The Count. When your sessions are completed for the day, I want you to go straight to your room and work on it. I expect a proper revision at the start of class tomorrow."
Giving off a nod of his own, Sean responded with a, "Yes, sir."
When Charles gave him the cue to leave, Sean took fast advantage of it. Normally, he had no trouble talking to Charles. Of course, normally he never had to face reprimand over schoolwork of all things.
After Erik and Hank's classes plus his Banshee training came to a close for the day, Sean went upstairs and settled at his desk. He re-read through the chapters he had found the most provocative to better outline his overall thesis. He became so wrapped up in the novel that he decided to take his dinner upstairs. Just as he went from the initial written phase to moving on to the typewriter, a knock came to his partially open doorway.
Frank poked his head in. "Hey. How come you didn't come to dinner? You sick or something?"
"Nope," Sean replied, indicating the typewriter in front of him. "Homework."
"Oh." Frank appeared suddenly horrified. "Wait. Do we have some sort of essay due?"
"You don't," Sean said. "Listen, I'm kind of busy. What do you want, Frank?"
Then the boy remembered his original reason for entering the bedroom. "There's a Hitchcock marathon on TV."
Oh of course, Sean thought. The master of all things creepy has a marathon at the same time he had a major make-up assignment to work on. Un-fair!
Then again… Sean had been working quite diligently for the last few hours. He had even missed out on joining everyone around the table for dinner. A small break would not hinder the creative process. In fact, Sean was almost sure he could find some sort of correlation between Alfred Hitchcock's work and Alexandre Dumas' novel. Other than the fact that both their names began with 'Al'.
Getting up from his desk, Sean followed Frank downstairs and into the den where some of the others had already gathered. Hank sat in a chair with Raven sitting comfortably on one of the arms. Sean and Frank sat with Alex on the couch with Frank in-between the two of them.
Sean felt relieved with the knowledge that neither Charles nor Erik took much interest in television. He really did not want to have to explain to the former why he had left his bedroom without completing his assignment. Sure, maybe he could cover it up with a well-decorated fib of sorts but with his tendency to mumble and stutter combined with Charles' telepathic abilities, things would not end well in that scenario. Besides, he hated to lie without a life or death cause.
Sean shared a friendly glance with Hank. It amazed him that he could drop the science instructor persona and just be the standard pal McCoy. Of course, Sean had also noticed a great deal of tranquility about him ever since Hank's 'thing' with Raven had taken several steps in the right direction.
As Strangers on The Train started up on the TV, Sean immediately became involved in the film.
Midway into the third show, Hank got a good look at his watch. "Guys," he spoke, getting their attention. "We should all head up."
Sean snapped out of the trance he was in and saw that Frank had dozed off and currently rested against his shoulder. What time was it, anyway? Sean looked to the wall clock and nearly jumped back upon the realization that midnight have arrived.
The others felt a gust of wind shoot by them as Sean charged upstairs and back to his room.
Gotta finish, gotta finish, he chanted in his head, sitting in front of the typewriter again. I'll stay up all night if I have to.
All night turned into a little under thirty minutes as Sean's eyelids grew entirely too heavy and his head slumped down on the desk.
IIIIIII
"Sean? Seanie?" Not sure how else to rouse the Irish boy, Alex delivered a slap to the back of the copper head.
"Ah!" Sean shot up, alarmed at the abrupt wake-up call.
"Finally," Alex commented. "Raven sent me to find you. Breakfast is on the table. Why aren't you in your bed… and isn't that the same thing you were wearing yesterday?"
Awareness hit Sean like a sharp pointed rock. "Oh, no, no, no, no."
"No?" Alex echoed.
"No!" Sean exclaimed only to have the older teen in the room clamp a hand down over his mouth.
"Are you trying to shatter the windows?" Alex said pointedly. "What is your problem?"
"I didn't do my paper revision," Sean told him once Alex removed his hand. "I barely even started it."
Now even more confused, Alex asked, "Since when do you have to do paper revisions? You beat the ever living crap out of English."
"Not lately." Sean stood with a groan, going over to collapse into his bed. "I've been goofing off on my papers, making C's on purpose. Charles called me out on it yesterday and wanted me to re-write this one."
"Wait a minute," Alex said, trying to get a grip on things. "You mean the only reason you had to re-do this thing is because you did bad the first time? On purpose?"
"Yeah," Sean replied with a slight nod.
"Dude, that is the dumbest thing I've ever heard," Alex stated bluntly. "What'd you do- leave your brain in mid-air the last time you went flying? Geez, how could anybody so smart be so dense?"
Sean had to do a double take at Alex of all people reading him the riot act. "I don't know, okay? I just got tired of hearing it. "Brain boy", "Professor's Pet"…"
Alex remembered that last one. "Oh, come on, Sean, really? You made low grades over that? I give Hank ten times that kind of grief and it took me pushing Raven down before he even laid a finger on me."
"Just leave me alone." Sean sat up, turning his back to him with folded arms. "You wouldn't understand."
Softening, Alex sat near him but gave the younger one enough personal space. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you with that stuff."
Sighing, Sean admitted, "You didn't. Not really. I know how stupid it sounds but hearing little things like that just sent me back home, where I'm the weirdo redhead."
"Hey, you're a weirdo badass redhead," Alex countered strongly. "And people talk because they're jealous." The blonde certainly had personal experience there. "But if you make bad grades on purpose then you make yourself dumb. You're better than that, Sean."
After being quiet for a moment, Sean responded, "Thanks, Alex. You're right. I just don't know what I'm going to say to Charles."
"Well, class starts in less than an hour. You have to face him, buddy."
Though it did not offer the escape he wanted, Sean knew the words were true.
When the two finally made it down to the breakfast table, after Sean changed into a different outfit, Charles acknowledged them both with a smile. "Good morning. My, Sean, this is the first I've seen of you since yesterday."
"Must have gotten some work done," Erik commented before taking a sip of orange juice.
Sean just looked back at them with what he hoped passed for a positive expression before loading his plate up with the various breakfast items like a man prepared to walk the green mile. Or like an adolescent boy ready to run for it.
IIIIIII
After breakfast, Sean hurried back up to his room. He had managed to type up a fairly decent first page but had to use sheets from his old assignment as filler. He just could not stomach the idea of going to class completely empty handed.
When he made it to the library for the day's lessons, he gave Charles the 'new' paper, hoping he did not look as nervous as he felt.
Nodding approvingly at the first two lines he skimmed, Charles said, "Ah, very good. I'll grade it tonight after supper and offer you proper feedback in the morning."
After supper? Sean saw something for a moment that resembled hope. If he could just finish the remainder of the paper then he could swap it out for the bad one he had just handed in. Charles would never know the difference. Besides, he wouldn't care so long as Sean had at least turned a little something in. At least, that was the logic Sean fed himself as he took up his usual seat
The moment he became free for the rest of the day, Sean all but barricaded himself in his room as he shut the door and placed a chair under the knob. He would not be disturbed this time under any circumstances. With his typing fingers taking on a whole new life, Sean finished his paper with precision and enough thought provoking analysis thrown in to put him back in Charles' good graces.
Gathering his latest work on The Count of Monte Cristo, Sean freed himself from his own personal prison and crept downstairs with as much stealth as any tall leggy teenager could manage. Everyone would be gathering for dinner no doubt so that left him with the opportunity he needed.
Tipping over to the study, Sean almost heard the halleluiah chorus go off at seeing the open file on Charles' desk with many scattered papers. Now if he swapped things out, Charles would never even notice things had been moved around. Entering fully, Sean began to dig through the documents, looking for his paper. After searching through every single thing, he still did not find it. Panic took hold of his chest as he turned frantic and started looking through the desk drawers furiously.
"Might I help you find something?"
Turning into a statue at the unexpected voice, it took a great deal of effort on Sean's part to turn around. "… Hi, Charles."
"Hello," his instructor returned, suspicion in the normally kind blue eyes. "Sean, what are you doing?"
Sean played with his fingers as the mumbling and stutters took over. "I was just… finding… looking… um, trying to, uh, it and…"
"I know your intentions," Charles informed him. "It's rolling off you in thick waves." He went over to one of the chairs and held up the tell-tale paper. "I believe this is what you're looking for."
Real words found their way out of Sean's mouth as he began to blurt, "I'm sorry, Charles! I studied all afternoon yesterday like you told me but then the Alfred Hitchcock marathon came on and it was only going to be a quick break but then I got so wrapped up in it and then I tried to finish but I fell asleep right at my desk. So I got the first page of the revision done but I had to fill it out with the paper you gave me back yesterday. I was just coming in here to exchange it with this one—" he indicated the papers in his hand. "The one that I actually worked hard on. I thought it would be okay. I thought… I'm sorry…" He dropped down, hugging his knees.
At the bookended explanation that only Charles could follow, the telepath could not help but view the young man in front of him as nothing more than a contrite little child.
He stepped over, lowering to Sean on the floor. "Sean, listen to me very carefully. Breathe." Sean inhaled and exhaled a couple times. "That's a good lad. Now, while I do not appreciate your attempts at trickery, the fact that you put so much time and effort into the assignment this time around shows me that you have indeed learned something from this."
"I have," Sean assured. "I swear. No more flaking."
Charles appeared pleased at hearing this but his face still turned firmer. "However, disobedience and sneaking about I cannot abide. I told you to stay in your room and do your revision, correct?"
"Correct," Sean responded obediently.
"And by turning in an improper copy, you also attempted to deceive me. Is that also correct?"
"Yes, sir," Sean said, his voice barely a whisper.
"Come on," Charles instructed gently, pulling them both up. He sent out a telepathic message to Raven, letting her know they would be having dinner later. Charles led the way over to one of the green loveseats and sat down, patting his own lap. "Trousers down."
Not wasting time with any form of plea bargaining, Sean did as instructed and lowered his jeans before positioning himself somewhat awkwardly over Charles lap. Sean's feet touchED the floor while his upper body stretched out over the opposite end of the loveseat.
After seeing to it that the teenager had some sort of comfort, Charles brought his hand up and down again sharply across the underwear clad behind in front of him.
"Ah!" Sean reacted but tried to keep as silent as possible. His particular outbursts could cause a far more damaging effect than anything Charles inflicted on his backside.
Of course, as the painful smacks continued and eventually intensified, it took all of the inner resolve Sean had to keep from shattering every single solitary piece of glass within a mile's distance. He instead hissed and groaned then began to kick, which earned him a couple swats to his bare thighs.
"Keep those legs down, Sean," Charles admonished.
Sean whimpered in response but managed to stay still for the last half dozen smacks. He cried openly, not even bothering with any sort of tough man façade. Putting up false faces had landed him in this uncomfortable position to begin with.
Charles rubbed Sean's quivering back in soothing circles. When the cries diminished slightly, he delicately replaced his jeans before lifting the large boy upright on his lap. Charles held him closely as Sean wept. As with his previous emotions, Charles could feel the teen's remorse coming off in waves. Knowing that the difficult lesson had indeed been taught, Charles wanted knocking more to come from that moment outside of sheer comfort.
"That's it now," Charles encouraged, rubbing his back some more. "Let it all out. It's all right, Seanie."
"I'm sorry," the sobbing redhead got out after a while.
"Oh, believe you me. I'm well aware."
The hint of a smile in Charles' tone gave Sean some additional reassurance. He sniffed again then began to rub his eyes.
Charles enjoyed the rare moment of having one of his older boys in his arms. Though Sean lent himself to emotion more often than Hank and both certainly more than Alex, it seemed between the desires to grow up or to be cool and groovy that open affection was a lost art among most male members of the mutant clan. Even Frank had begun to show interest in becoming one with the older teens.
Pressing a kiss to Sean's forehead through the mess of hair, Charles asked, "Do you think you could stomach a little supper?"
Sean nodded, sweet yet mopey countenance still in place and clearly would be for quite some time.
Charles laid Sean out stomach down on the loveseat then headed off in search of food. No one said a word as Charles came into the dining room to prepare not one but two plates. After getting things organized onto a tray, Charles went back to the study and ate dinner with Sean. The two talked for longer than they had in a while; everything from Sean's ever growing mutation to the underlying themes of justice vs. vengeance found throughout The Count of Monte Cristo.