Note: Ok. I think I finally got the hang of adding rules. Sorry for the mushed together text before this.

Part 10

Chase endured an emotionally tumultuous twenty-four hours following his meeting with House. That he was a mutant was indisputable, but what he felt about that wasn't as easily categorized. He spent most of Thursday holed up in his apartment alternating between anger at his parents for their genes—and at their not being around for him to accuse—and fear that he'd be discovered and lose his job. Just the thought of the latter made him so nauseous he could barely eat, and so anxious he couldn't stop pacing the small confines of his living room. When even a violin session failed to calm his nerves, he finally sought refuge in the local cathedral and heard Mass for the first time in nearly a decade. If he didn't exactly get the answers he was looking for, he did find the stability and familiarity of it all relaxing. He was even tempted to go to Confession, but couldn't bring himself to enter the confessional. He could only imagine a priest's reaction to "and I might have cheated a casino out of $92,000 when I inadvertently used mutant powers I didn't know I had to fix a craps game."

He returned home feeling slightly less unbalanced, but still didn't sleep well.

Friday dawned more promising. He'd called the number House had given him and discovered he'd actually be spending the weekend at a private school for the gifted—more in the genetic sense than any other. The drive to the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in Salem Center, Westchester was easy enough, and the estate Chase pulled into resembled one belonging to his grandparents, though somewhat less foreboding. As he drove along the long road that led up from the property's main gate, he saw a group of children playing on lush green lawns, got a glimpse of a rather picturesque lake and boathouse, and spotted a couple riding horses in the direction of what looked to be a stable. He arrived at his final destination only a few minutes after clearing the estate's wrought iron gates. The immense ivy-covered mansion that lay ahead of him was clearly old, though obviously well cared for. The leaded glass windows, the detailed masonry, the perfectly manicured flowerbeds—the whole place screamed Old Money in a way that someone who'd grown up in such surroundings could easily recognize. It felt strangely familiar, and even if he'd never particularly cared about the trappings of wealth, Chase felt rather at ease. He turned from the main road into the circular drive in front of the building and parked his car. A gum-chewing teenage girl with a rather obvious penchant for yellow was waiting for him as he emerged from his Toyota.

"Man, Dazzler's gonna be useless for the entire weekend after she sees you," she said with a frown after taking a moment to look him over. Chase had zero idea who Dazzler was, but when he'd spoken to Charles Xavier, the headmaster, on the phone, he'd been told to dress "as if you'll be communing with a good number of teenagers over the weekend." He'd complied with jeans and a T-shirt. "You don't look like a doctor."

"Got the stethoscope and everything," he answered with a smile, used to similar reactions to his age. "I'm Robert Chase and I'm here to see-"

"-Hank. Yeah, I know," she said, rolling her eyes before blowing a large bubble. "I'm Jubilee. Come on. You can get your stuff later."

She ushered him into a large foyer and told him to "stay put while I get the professor" before disappearing through a door. That was the day's last moment of normality.

All at once he was Alice through the looking glass. Or maybe just one of those blokes caught in the Twilight Zone. In a span of merely 10 minutes he watched a young girl walk through the front door; saw what appeared to be a walking corpse trudge down a hall with a guitar; and encountered a shy, lavender-colored elf who'd disappeared (literally) when she caught sight of him.

All that's missing is a white rabbit Chase thought as Jubilee returned to usher him into a rather formal office, where an elderly but otherwise unremarkable looking man in a wheelchair awaited him.

I'm afraid we have no rabbits said an amused and decidedly British voice in his head, rendering Chase speechless in both mind and body.

"We had to outlaw personal pets or risk turning the mansion into Noah's Ark," the same voice spoke, though this time Chase had definitely heard the words with his ears.

"Welcome, Dr. Chase, " the man continued, as he gestured for Chase to sit. Jubilee, apparently satisfied she'd done her duty, left the room, closing the door behind her. " I'm Professor Charles Xavier, the school's headmaster. I believe we spoke on the phone yesterday. My apologies for the delay, but Dr. McCoy ended up on a conference call and asked me to settle you in. Would you like some tea?"

Chase stared at him in open-mouthed surprise, wondering if he was losing his mind.

"I would judge you quite sane," Xavier said with a smile. "And I daresay the school might resemble something of Wonderland, although it's actually rather tame right now as many of the children are still out on summer break. Classes don't start for another two weeks."

"How did you…" Chase stopped mid-sentence as a rather unpalatable idea occurred to him. "You read minds?"

"I'm a telepath, a mutant like yourself," Xavier acknowledged. "Though I promise you I'm not reading anything you aren't unintentionally broadcasting—I'm aware the mansion can be a bit overwhelming to those unused to its…unique atmosphere. I assure you that I would not scan you mentally without your permission anymore than you would use your gift to juggle the furniture in this room. "

"I'd be more worried about exploding light bulbs," Chase muttered, somewhat flustered as he finally took a seat opposite his host.

Xavier chuckled as he poured out two cups of tea and offered one to Chase. "We've had our fair share of accidents over the years. A broken light bulb, I'm afraid, wouldn't even crack the top ten. One student blew out the entire conservatory wall, another froze the swimming pool, and we've had to replace all of the windows at least twice. The first telekinetic I ever encountered did, in fact, accidentally destroy a vase during a lesson. "

"You know another telekinetic?" Chase asked, somewhat reassured by the fact that there were others with his…gift out there. He'd done some research and there wasn't much out there on his particular mutation.

"Unfortunately, Jean—Dr. Jean Grey—passed away on 5/22," Xavier told him, his expression turning somber. Chase frowned—he knew that name from the journal articles House had given him. Dr. Grey had been an up-and-coming geneticist of some renown, but there'd been no mention of her being a mutant. That she'd kept it a secret didn't surprise Chase; and made him doubly sure he wouldn't be telling anyone his own genetic status anytime soon.

"She was both a telepath and a telekinetic," Xavier continued, a smile forming on his face at what Chase could only assume was a happier memory. "And the first time she tried to move a sofa across a room, it ended up embedded in the wall instead."

"Haven't even tried anything like that," Chase admitted. In truth, the idea had never occurred to him.

"I expect you've had other things on your mind," Xavier said. "If the process of manifestation is turbulent for a teenager, I would expect it to be no less so for an adult. Probably more. Teens are usually more able to 'go with the flow,' as it were. Although I must say you're coping quite well. I've had potential teachers flee before even stepping foot in my office."

Chase smiled, wondering if his 10 minutes in the hallway had been some sort of test—or an odd introduction to the wonderful world of mutants. Looking back on the previous 36 hours, he supposed he hadn't done too badly. But then critical care specialists who couldn't adjust to the uncertainty and the quick-change conditions that came with the territory didn't last long. And he'd learned to live under less-than-ideal conditions for much longer than he'd been a doctor. "I deal with the unexpected a lot."

"Yes, Henry—Dr. McCoy—told me something about your work, and your employer," Xavier said. "He was quite amused by the phone call he received from Dr. House."

Chase couldn't keep a look of surprise off his face. "Amusing is not usually the word people use to describe my boss."

"I believe the exact word Henry used was 'refreshing,' but then Henry often maintains a rather unique view of the world," Xavier observed.

"So does Dr. House."

It was more than an hour after his arrival that Chase finally found himself face-to-face with Henry McCoy in a cluttered, but clearly state-of-the-art lab in the school's basement.

"Delighted to meet you, Dr. Chase Dr. House told me a good deal about you."

Even after several hours of acclimation to "mutant high," the fact that McCoy was huge, blue and furry threw Chase for a loop. But discovering the geneticist resembled a large version of one of the pediatric playroom's stuffed animals—albeit one with claws, fangs, and spectacles—caused Chase a good deal less anxiety than the revelation that House had talked about him.

"He did?" he squeaked out as he shook the doctor's proffered hand.

"Most assuredly. I think it quite safe to venture that he thinks rather highly of your abilities."

Chase's eyebrows would've hit the ceiling had they been able to climb that far. House and compliments (especially any aimed at himself) were a combination that just didn't compute.

"And I daresay he enjoys a good puzzle as much as I do," McCoy added, seemingly amused at his reaction. But then Chase supposed McCoy, as an obvious mutant, didn't often receive a polite greeting in most non-mutant circles. All at once, Chase felt happy—and guilty for it—that his mutation hadn't been of the physical variety. "And one cannot help but respect a physician who can reference both Star Trek and Bud Minton in his journal articles. Most refreshing reading."

"I'll be sure to tell him."

"Please do," McCoy told him affably. "And perhaps we might be able to confirm his theory as to the rather unique nature of your manifestation. I must admit to more than a good deal of curiosity about that situation myself."

"You and me both," Chase admitted.

"Dr. House sent me your files, but if we're to determine the exact nature of your mutation and how you can best control it, a few tests are in order."

"I figured as much," Chase said.

"Excellent, then shall we begin?"

"You're the expert. What do you need?"

It turned out that McCoy needed quite a bit. In the hours that followed, Chase was poked, prodded, scanned, and asked to recall every time he'd used or suspected he'd used his mutation. Then came a number of practical exercises that required the use of his newfound abilities in a number of ways. He'd peeled an orange without touching it, maneuvered around a lab while blindfolded without bumping into a thing, and levitated and manipulated a host of objects. They might have worked deep into the night if he hadn't almost passed out while lifting a series of ever-increasing weights with his mind. McCoy muttered something about "increased metabolic rates, psionic calorie expenditures, and hypoglycemia," and then shoved a pack of Twinkies into his hand and had him wash them down with some orange juice.

"I grant you that they leave something to be desired in the nutritional scheme of things, but one should never underestimate the power of a Twinkie," McCoy told him in good humor as he consumed more than a few of the snack cakes himself. "Though I fear we're setting a bad example by eating dessert before dinner. Of course, I won't tell the students if you don't."

"No problem," Chase replied, bewildered if less shaky.

"That said, I think an adjournment is in order," McCoy said, rising from his seat. "It may not feel quite as adrenaline-pumping as aerobic activity or have the resulting physical benefits, but exercising a psionic mutation can indeed consume a good number of calories and can feel just as draining, especially if you don't use it regularly. You might think about monitoring your blood sugar off and on for the next few months and adjust your diet accordingly."

Chase nodded. He probably had been eating a bit more over the last few months, but hadn't noticed it because hospital fellows tended to eat and run, and he hadn't gained an ounce.

"Now, if you're sufficiently recovered, I'd be remiss if I prevented you from sampling our cook's marvelous cuisine and we're a trifle late for dinner. A school we may be, but you'll find the food a great deal better than usual hospital cafeteria bland."

"I think cardboard would beat our cafeteria," Chase said with a grin, as he felt the sugar he'd consumed rushing through his bloodstream. "Though I'm not sure you'll beat the Twinkies."

"Dr. Chase, I think we're going to get along splendidly."

And stay tuned for the finale.