Chapter Three - Formidable
Jean Grey stood with the flashlight in her hand pointed at the generator as Kurt Wagner tried to start it up. The thing didn't even splutter with signs of life anymore, it simply ceased to start up.
"There's plenty of fuel in it," Kurt assured, "But it's dead...totally. Blown."
Jean sighed, "whatever Jessie did, she blew the electricity in the whole place – even the cellphones all stopped working...even our watches stopped working..."
"Did she absorb all that power?"
"I'm not sure...I didn't see what happened. She may have absorbed it and sent it back into the electrical system...the surge might have been what blew every circuit in the place..." Jean explained.
"And the cellphones?"
"Mines melted..." Jean made a face.
"For a seven year old to have such power...it's a little...unnerving," Kurt admitted.
"She can't help it..." Jean sighed. "It happened when she was asleep – she had no control over it..."
Kurt nodded, "I understand how it can be to have power that can't be controlled. Most of us have had to endure it at some point in our lives."
"She has remarkable control of her powers when she's awake," admitted Jean.
"I know. She demonstrated her ability to use little spheres of electricity as projectiles," Kurt explained. "It reminded me of Gambit..."
"She's more powerful than Gambit..." Jean admitted, "sometimes I wonder if she may be more powerful than the Professor...when she reaches adulthood...she'll be quite formidable."
Kurt grabbed onto Jean's waist, "the way things are going..." he said before they teleported up to the foyer, "she may not have to wait that long."
Jessie glanced at the fire in the Professor's office; it crackled every so often and the flames were almost mesmerising...making it hard to look away. She sat folded legged on the carpet looking at it through the wrought iron fireguard.
"Jessie..."
She was only vaguely aware of the Professor's voice in the room.
Exhaustion had settled over her again and she couldn't quite comprehend why she felt so tired lately; it had been ever since her injury.
"Jessie..."
She turned, this time snapping out of the sleepy trance of staring into the fire; the Professor was nearby sitting in his chair with a tartan blanket upon his lap. "Uh huh?" she asked.
"You should perhaps lie down; you seem very sleepy."
"I'm fine..." she stood up, her legs felt stiff, her arms limp. The pain in her right arm was throbbing dully; a firm reminder of her foolish notions. She walked over to the Professor's chair and and stood beside him to look at him. "Is everyone mad at me?" she asked softly.
"Why would they be mad at you?"
She picked idly at the loose thread of his shirt sleeve. "'Cause I broke the power..." she chewed her lip. With her index finger she zapped the thread while pulling it with her free uninjured hand and it broke away from the shirt, the scent of singed thread rose into the air.
The Professor put his hand upon her shoulder, his touch was heavy but reassuring, "everyone knows this was an accident. You can't be blamed for something you didn't mean to do."
"I'm always doing stupid things," she sighed, she moved over to the burgundy leather chesterfield couch against the wall and she climbed onto it and tried to make herself comfortable. "It's my fault Rogue isn't here now, and it's my fault we have no power..." she pouted. "It's my fault that your proper chair got broken and now you have to use that one..." she gestured.
He smiled and wheeled himself over. "Jessie, perhaps I should have been relying less on my electric chair when I have two perfectly good useful arms..." he assured. "And you couldn't be faulted for any of those things. Everything will work itself out...my chair will be fixed, the electricity will be fixed..."
Jessie raised her large eyes to his, "and Rogue?" she asked.
"Rogue will be back."
"How do you know that?" Jessie asked.
"Because I know Rogue," he answered simply.
"Everyone thought that about Mr. Drake..." she admitted. "He never came back," she reminded.
Professor Xavier paused, "Bobby has found...a new home..."
"He didn't like Mr. LeBeau."
"You don't need to concern yourself with that," The Professor promised.
Jessie looked away from the Professor; the images in her dream came drifting back to her as she thought of Mr. LeBeau. Had it been a dream? Or had it really happened to her so long ago that she'd somehow forgotten all about it? Was that possible? Did people simply forget about things that happened to them?
Or had it really been a dream?
"Jessie? What's wrong?" the Professor asked.
"Mr. LeBeau was in my dream..."
The Professor seemed troubled when she mentioned this.
Jessie straightened up, "I don't think it was a dream though...'cause I heard Miss Pryde, Mr. Wagner and Logan talking about how Mr. LeBeau was strapped to a wall...and that's what I saw in my dream..."
"Jessie..." said the Professor.
"And there was a doctor in a white coat...with black hair and eyes that were kinda yellow..." she said in a low voice. "And he had a bottle of blue stuff that he put in me with a needle thing...it glowed."
The professor stopped to consider this, his eyes searched hers. "Blue stuff?" he raised an eyebrow.
"It glowed..." she stated again, "like...it was...glowy..."
He said nothing after this, but as she stared hard at him somehow she knew that what she'd said was significant. The blue glowing liquid...the Professor knew what this was. At that moment she wished she could read his mind and she sat concentrating hard to try but she failed at this. "You've seen that stuff before," she finally said, giving up on her attempt at telepathy.
The Professor sighed, "Yes. I have."
"Is it bad?"
"Jessie...I..."
A sudden sound made Jessie jump; the sound of an overhead plane rushing by, the windows rattled under the vibrations. Jessie got up quickly and rushed to the large window that sat behind the Professor's desk. She pressed her nose up to the glass and looked outside.
"What's out there?" the Professor asked, he turned the chair and slowly wheeled over.
"I don't see anything," she said confusedly; she turned to look at the Professor. "Did the Blackbird go somewhere?"
"No..." the Professor shook his head, he moved to settle beside her and he looked outside, "the hangar doors are jammed shut; the blackbird can't leave until the electrical problems are resolved."
My fault, again, Jessie despaired.
"Jessie...have you taken care of the homework that your teacher sent for you?" the Professor asked suddenly.
Jessie couldn't help but feel that the Professor was trying to distract her. Either way, there wasn't much she could do but answer. "Uhm...no...?"
"Why don't you go get your homework and I shall help you with it."
"Aren't you too busy to do that?" Jessie asked. In hert experience, the Professor was usually always too busy to do anything other than sit in the office or go to meetings.
"Well, my phonelines are down, none of the cars are working right now, and I think I can afford myself a little break from work to help you with some math."
"Okay," Jessie nodded.
The cold in the hallway was instantly noticeable as she left the warm office and closed the door behind herself. Jessie shivered and to avoid being in the cold too long, she ran up the stairs as fast as she could to her bedroom, where on top of her toy chest, her pile of homework was sitting still undone.
She wished she didn't have to do the homework; it was one of the things she least liked about school was actually doing any of the school work, but she kept hearing from all the adults that it was a completely necessary part of her life. She picked up her pencil case from where she kept it, and with her homework bundled under her good arm, she left the room.
Her mind was still full of questions; even the thoughts of homework weren't enough to stop the thought of the evil doctor in her nightmare, and the thoughts of Mr. LeBeau hanging from the wall. She remembered the crucifix that had been on the wall in the school room at the orphanage and Mr. LeBeau's image shackled to that wall reminded her of it; the thought made her shiver.
Jessie tried to force it out of her mind as she made her way downstairs and she sauntered along the cold hair, watching her breath mist in the air as she stepped carefully down the dull darkened halls, the light from the nearest window was barely enough to illuminate the hall well enough to see where she was going.
The Professor's office door was hanging ajar, and the light from the fire inside was casting a soft shaft of orange across the floorboards in the hallway. She stopped in her tracks...she could have sworn it had been closed. She took a moment to remember and she was positive she had shut it. Cautiously, she began to step forward and gazed through the gap; a dark figure was standing in the office.