Part 11

"You are an alpha-level telekinetic."

After 48 hours at the school, Chase had been summoned to Charles Xavier's office, where he found the headmaster and Henry McCoy waiting for him with the results of all his tests. It was a sign of how acclimated he'd become to both the mansion and the idea of his mutancy, that Chase's only response to Xavier's pronouncement was, "Okay. And that means what?"

"It's a pity that we haven't come up with a better classification system for mutants as of yet," McCoy said slowly. Chase thought he looked like a doctor trying to figure out the best way to break bad news. The realization caused a mild flutter in his stomach. "But right now, we categorize them essentially by the amount of havoc they can wreak."

"In essence," Xavier added, "it means that you have the potential to break a good deal more than light bulbs."

Chase paled; the last thing he needed to deal with was an even bigger accident than House's window had been. "How much more?"

"Well, I think you can understand why we might be a bit reluctant to test your actual destructive capability," Xavier told him with a smile that was clearly meant to be reassuring. Chase was anything but, his uneasiness only growing as his mouth suddenly went dry. "And it would be a good deal more useful to focus on the more positive aspects of your gift."

"Most definitely," McCoy agreed. "You've already experienced some of the pluses. Your spatial awareness is now far beyond the human norm, you apparently have some sort of psionic system that allows you to sense matter much in the same way a bat uses echolocation to navigate, and you can clearly levitate and manipulate objects with your mind that you'd never be able to lift with your body. And I cannot help but be envious of a doctor who can sense a broken bone without so much as an X-ray."

"I'm sure my patients will be thrilled," Chase muttered as he ran a frustrated hand through his hair, wondering just what it was they were hiding behind their way-too-upbeat prognosis. He took a deep breath as he considered how dangerous he must be for them to be giving him the sort of positive spin one gave to patients facing a host of lousy procedures, to keep their spirits up. He wanted answers, not pep talks. He shivered at the idea that he might accidentally hurt a patient. And just thinking about what a peer review board would say about a diagnosis made using his mutation caused his stomach to churn; envy sure as hell wouldn't describe it.

"On an especially positive note, your manifestation in adulthood appears to have given you a degree of control not possessed by most mutants when they're starting out," McCoy added, refusing to abandon his sunny outlook. "You already have the small-scale cerebral dexterity that took another telekinetic years to learn. If I foresee any difficulties, it would likely be more for large-scale operations. As an adult, you'd have more of an issue in believing they were possible and though mutancy may be in one's genes, it is ultimately the mind that matters."

"Henry is correct," the professor told him. "Granted you've had a few…hiccups, but we firmly believe that some of those issues were due more to a combination of stress and lack of awareness than any inherent lack of control. Even with the exhausting battery of tests you've undergone here, you haven't committed any major errors. That bodes well for the future because we're admittedly moving in uncharted territory."

"What do you mean uncharted?" Chase asked. "You told me Dr. Grey was a telekinetic."

"Jean was a telekinetic, but also a telepath," Hank explained. "It wasn't until just shortly before her death that she truly began to exhibit large-scale control of her mutation and we remain unsure whether the combination of her gifts had any affect on her range. Frankly, telekinesis is an exceedingly rare mutation, and you are, in point of fact, the first pure telekinetic that I've ever encountered. What we think you may actually be capable of is admittedly based on supposition, but it is vital that you understand how to handle the unexpected. And of course there is the joy in merely discovering one's boundaries. Chance favors the prepared mind."

"Great." Chase took refuge in sarcasm as he tried to sort through everything he'd been told. "So we already know I can move things around and that I'll save money on my electric bill now that I don't really need light to get around. Just how much more 'prepared' can I be?"

"Flight would not be out of the question."

"Yeah, and I can walk on water, too," he said sarcastically, refusing to take the professor's comment at face value, if only to preserve his own sanity. His heart was now racing in tune with his anxiety, but his brain wasn't entirely convinced by everything Xavier and McCoy were telling him. One didn't work as long as he had for House without developing a healthy respect for skepticism.

McCoy, however, didn't take the jab in the spirit intended. "That would make for a most interesting experiment. Though given the surface tension issues, you might have to develop a bit more mental stamina in order to stroll the surface of the lake, perhaps--"

"--perhaps we should give the good doctor some time to assimilate everything we've told him," Xavier interrupted, and Chase wondered if the telepath had sensed his growing unease. He'd gotten some answers but they didn't bring much peace of mind. The walls of Xavier's office seemed to be closing in on him, his heart was racing, and his lungs just couldn't seem to get enough air in them.

"Yes, yes, of course," McCoy acknowledged. "I'm afraid I do tend to get ahead of myself in matters scientific. Take all the time you need."

"I think I'll get some air," Chase told the two men. He needed a lot of it.

"Hallo."

Chase had retreated from the professor's office to the dock overlooking the estate's lake, and been contemplating his universe there for more than an hour. When he looked up, he thanked heaven that he'd already met the owner behind the greeting. If he hadn't, he might very well have ended up in the water. Talking blue devils—even cheerful ones that wore crucifixes—weren't standard in Wonderland. But at dinner the previous evening he'd had quite the chat with Kurt Wagner on topics ranging from the circus to St. Thomas Aquinas's Summa Theologiae. The furry German had been delighted with his knowledge of the latter. Chase had been amused that the man who'd probably have graced a wanted poster back during the Church's medieval days—and even in the present day, if he were being honest—was a devout Catholic.

"Hi."

Wagner, taking Chase's acknowledgment for an invitation, plopped down beside him. "It is a good place to think, ja?"

"Not quite the ocean, but it's not bad," Chase answered, shifting his gaze to the water, almost mesmerized by the ripples in the lake. The anxiety that had overtaken him in Xavier's office had shifted to an almost energy-sapping depression. He didn't really feel in the mood for conversation, but couldn't bring himself to brush off Wagner either.

"You grew up near an ocean?" Wagner's tail moved up and down enthusiastically. "I have only seen it a few times up close. It is beautiful, when the sun sets and the moon is over the water. "

"Hard for you, I expect, to see it in daylight," Chase remarked absently.

Wagner shrugged. "I prefer the darkness, easier for me to see. Hank says my eyes were not made for bright light."

Roused by professional interest, Chase looked up and studied Wagner's burning yellow eyes. "I suppose not, though it'd be hell on a doctor if you ever got a concussion—no pupils to check."

"Lucky then that I have a hard head, no?"

Chase chuckled, but didn't speak.

"So what, if I may ask, were you thinking about, Dr. Chase?"

Chase smiled, but there was little humor in it. "Of shoes, and ships, and sealing-wax; of cabbages, and kings."

He watched in amusement as Wagner's eyes went wide as he tried to process that.

"It's just a poem," Chase told him, shaking his head listlessly. "From Alice through the Looking Glass. Not really supposed to make sense—or it never did to me. Had to read the whole bloody book in secondary school, but I never thought I'd live it."

"Ah," Wagner nodded. "Off with her head!"—Chase chuckled as he watched Wagner expertly mime the famous scene—"I saw the Disney movie with some of the little ones. No swords, though. You think you are as mad as the…eh…hatter?"

"I could pour his tea without picking up the kettle," Chase said without much humor, turning back to face the water. "They told me I might be able to fly, too."

"Wunderbahr," Wagner exclaimed. "That would be amazing, to soar through the air. On the trapeze you only get so long. And when I teleport, poof…it's over."

"Sounds adventurous when you put it that way."

"Life should be an adventure."

"I think I've had enough adventure for one lifetime. "

"I think half the girls in the mansion don't think you're too old," Wagner observed with a laugh. "God doesn't want life to be boring."

"He's got an interesting way of showing it."

"I saw the American TV show here in the mansion," Wagner said after a moment. "There was this woman—her son was also a doctor like you—and she told him that a person's talents are their gifts from God, what they do with them is their gift to Him. And who doesn't like getting presents, ja? Some people say it's a test, some people say it's an opportunity. My mother said I could sit in the tent doing nothing, or I could travel with der Jahrmakt and make lots of people smile. Smiling is good. You can do many things with your gift, no?"

Chase nodded, remembering Domingo Pasquarello. The cold feeling of dread that had lodged in his stomach in Xavier's office died down for a minute, only to stir up once more as he also remembered all the other times in his life when he'd done everything possible to get a positive outcome only to be screwed over by life again. "There are times when that's not enough," he finally said. "Or it feels like that anyway."

"Many things I do not know," Wagner admitted. "But I do know der Guter Gott, he does not give tests you cannot pass. If you have faith in this, it's not so hard, ja?

And there it was—fear versus faith. Chase had always flunked that test. And he'd raged at God, and his father, and who knew who else. He still thought his father deserved the anger, but as he looked out over the water, he wondered if maybe he'd been wrong about the other stuff. It wasn't as if he'd been able to shake his sense of belief no matter how many times he'd tried. Maybe Wagner was right. And maybe McCoy was right about the mind being all that mattered.

Chase stood, a serene expression settling on his face as he slipped off his shoes and walked resolutely to the end of the dock. The sun blazed a trail of light along the water as he looked out upon the lake. He felt the same rush of adrenaline, the same sense of surety he always experienced in the heat of a code, when decisions never seemed as hard as they did everywhere else.

"Was tun Sie?"

"A stroll," he answered, turning his head for a moment to smile at Wagner. "You might want to stick around." There was, after all, a place for pragmatism—even among the faithful.

Ignoring the surprised look on Wagner's face, Chase turned back to the water, took a deep breath, and then stepped off the dock and onto the water. His faith proved rock solid…for a minute anyway. The water felt odd—wet but solid. He managed a few steps before the realization that he was actually walking on the surface struck him as too fantastic to believe; it was the sort of miracle that happened to those far more deserving than him. And that realization was probably his undoing, for his concentration wavered and one second later he crashed down into the lake with a giant splash.

Sputtering, he swam up to the surface, feeling more satisfied that he had in ages and headed back to the dock, where an obviously delighted Wagner waited for him Chase actually felt happy.

"One small step for man," Chase joked as he pulled up onto the dock and shook out his hair.

"And one giant leap for your clothes dryer," Wagner responded with a smile.

"Guess my faith needs a bit of work," Chase said as he started to wring out his soaking wet T-shirt.

"And maybe your concentration, ja?"

"That too."

House was lying in wait for him when he arrived at the office early on Monday morning.

"Well, your tie actually matches your pants—maybe you learned something this weekend."

Chase smiled, remembering what Henry McCoy had told him about House. "Maybe I did. Dr. McCoy had some rather interesting things to say about you."

"Of course, he did," House scoffed. "Never let it be said that I'm unmemorable."

"Neither is he."

House raised an eyebrow but didn't take the bait—no doubt he planned to torture Chase for specifics later on. "So I trust I will no longer have to replace any windows."

"Not unless you plan on swiping my medical records again."

"Yes, well I'm sure you'll be thrilled making up my punishment time this week. I have clinic duty in 10 minutes."

"Don't know how I could possibly have missed this place," Chase said with a shake of his head as he poured himself some coffee. He had a feeling he'd need the caffeine.

"I'm touched," House told him. "It's not like they give you the tough cases down there Prince Blondie. The dragons like to torture me but think you walk on water."

Chase nearly choked on his drink. Then, recovering, Chase looked through the Diagnostic department's glass walls to make sure the hallway outside the office was empty.

"They might be right," Chase deadpanned as the door to the lounge swung open on its own and he headed out the door.

He was halfway down the hall when he heard his boss shout behind him, "When you can turn water into wine come talk to me."

Chase shook his head and smiled as he headed towards the elevator. Some things even his mind couldn't change.

The End