Polarity
Chapter 3: Visitors and Opportunities
The coffee had grown cold, but she didn't care. She had stood there for over an hour, watching her son as he slept.
He looks so peaceful, Brenda thought. I couldn't bear to wake him.
She was surprised that the boy could sleep at all. She was sure that the traumatic events of the previous day would haunt her for years to come.
Tearful screams as Danny sought to protect himself. An inarticulate howl of rage as his brother leapt to his defense. The sharp, dry snap as Derek's neck shattered.
She shook her head,willing the memories to subside. Dwelling on it wouldn't do any good. She had to be strong, for Danny's sake. He mustn't see her falter.
Oh God, Brian. Why did you have to run? I need you. HE needs you.
With a heavy sigh she turned away from the doorway and walked slowly toward the kitchen. She would not send him to school today and she would stay home as well. The best way, she decided, to work this all out would be to sit down and talk it through over a hot meal.
Soon the kitchen was filled with the delicious aromas of eggs, French toast, bacon, potatoes, and everything else a growing boy could want in the morning. She settled into familiar patterns learned over the past eighteen years; it wasn't hard to lose herself in the simple act of creating a meal. The sound of a chair scraping the linoleum finally caught her attention away from the food.
"Morning, sweetie," she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful.
"Morning, mom," Danny replied with a yawn.
"Sleep well?"
He flopped into the chair. "Yeah."
"I made French toast," she went on, as though her husband – his father – hadn't died at that table the night before. She suppressed that line of thought.
"Really?" Danny brightened. "Thanks Mom!"
Your French toast is the best!
She started, nearly dropping a platter of sausages. She hadn't heard the last remark, at least not in the traditional sense. No, it was as if the words had been placed directly into her mind. It wasn't frightening, really, but it was certainly uncomfortable; an experience she would just have to get used to.
But how to deal with it, she wondered. Do I respond with words? Do I think at him? Or do I just pretend I don't hear anything?
"Whatever you think is best, Mom," he told her with a shrug "I can't control it so you ought to get used to it
Her breath caught in her throat as she looked into her son's eyes. Did he just read her mind? The shocked look on his face told her he had, however unintentionally. Just how far did this...this...power extend?
There was a lengthy, uncomfortable pause.
Danny opened his mouth to talk, but the sound of the doorbell boomed like the mighty carillon of a cathedral in the silent kitchen.
Brenda exhaled, not realizing that she'd been holding her breath. "Who on Earth, could that be at this hour?" she exclaimed with a jump.
An odd foursome greeted her when she opened the front door: a man in a wheelchair, a pretty young black woman, and two kids that looked barely older than Brian.
"Can I help you?" she inquired politely. Who were these people?
"My name is Charles Xavier," said the man, "and I would like to talk to you about your sons and their gifts."
XXXXX
Danny fidgeted in his seat, partly from nerves - but mostly from excitement. If Xavier was telling the truth, then he'd be setting off on an incredible adventure. He frowned slightly. He'd alsobe leaving his entire life behind. He brushed that thought away; he wasn't leaving anything important, really, except for years and years of bad memories. He made himself pay attention as his mother questioned the strange visitor.
"...this school of yours. Danny will learn how to get his power under control? How to restrain it?" she was saying.
"Yes," replied Xavier. "But we also teach the children how to use their gifts responsibly. It is our hope that by doing so we can change humanity's perception of mutantkind for the better, so that one day human and mutant can live together in peace."
Danny saw his mother nod. He wasn't sure what Xavier had said, but she seemed to accept it.
"And this school is in New York?" she asked after a moment's pause.
"Yes, though not in the city" Xavier nodded. "Bayville is a wonderful town. It is big enough to support a variety of cultural venues – theatres, libraries, et cetera – and at the same time small enough to provide a measure of safety and security lacking in the largest cities."
"I see." She paused, shook her head. "New York isa long ways away. I don't think that we could afford it."
Xavier smiled and raised his hand. "Please do not concern yourself with expenses. I am willing to pay most of the expenses out of my own pocket. You see many of my students are actually runaways or are otherwise without means of support." His eyes twinkled at her disbelief. "I assure you that money is not an issue."
Danny heard his mother's sigh of relief; he'd been wondering about the cost as well. Now she fell silent, thinking.
"Well," she said after a minute or so, "it all sounds wonderful but I suppose the decision isn't really mine to make." She turned to her son. "What do you think, Danny? It's up to you and I'll abide by your decision."
Danny paled slightly as all eyes turned to him. He hadn't expected this. He'd never had to make a decision like this in his entire life; up until now, his parents had handled the important things. In truth he felt it wouldn't be hard to decide, but he had a question of his own to ask first.
"So," he said after a moment's reflection of his own . "You really think you can help me control my powers? Keep me from telling the whole world what I'm thinking? Help me stop poking into other people's heads?"
Both Xavier and the redheaded girl - Jean, he remembered suddenly — smiled warmly.
"Of course," said the bald man. Then: Let's just say that I've had some experience with telepaths.
Danny gasped involuntarily as Xavier's voice echoed in his mind.
"You're nervous about broadcasting your thoughts to others, correct?" Danny nodded as Xavier continued. "Well, let's see if we can do something about that." The man closed his eyes and brought his fingers to his temples.
Danny blinked, not quite surewhat the older man was doing. He looked quickly at Jean, who nodded encouragingly without saying a word. After only a brief pause, Xavier opened his eyes and looked at Danny.
All right Danny, Xavier spoke into his mind. I'd like you to say something, anything to your mother. Don't look at her or say it aloud. Concentrate instead on speaking to her with your mind.
Okay, he replied nervously. Mom, I thought breakfast was great.
Silence.
Danny looked at his mom, who asked what was the matter.
"You mean you didn't hear me?" he asked in surprise.
She frowned. "Honey, you didn't say anything."
"You didn't hear my thoughts?" His voice nearly cracked, his emotions roiled, threatening to overwhelm him.
And then his mother shook her head.
Danny slowly turned to Xavier, his eyes brimming with joy, awe, and gratitude. It took all of his willpower not to burst into elated tears.
The man merely smiled and answered his unspoken question.
"I have placed a temporary barrier within your mind. It will assist you in containing your thoughts until control is better developed."
Danny seemed as though he would cry tears of joy. Yes, he thought exultantly.
Xavier and Jean flinched, then the older girl laughed unexpectedly. She and the Xavier exchanged a wry look.
Danny felt his face flush. "S-s-sorry," he stammered. "I won't do that again."
"It's quite all right," Xavier reassured him. "Your excitement is perfectly understandable; just remember that the barrier does have its limits, and we are psychic." Danny nodded and bashfully returned Xavier's smile.
"So tell me, young Danny, have you made your decision?"
"Yes, I have" Danny replied after only the briefest of pauses. "I want to go to your school, Mr. Xavier."
The atmosphere lightened considerably. "Excellent! We will begin making the arrangements immediately," Xavier said to his mother. Then he turned back to DannyBy this time next week you will be a full member of the Xavier Institute."
Danny felt a twinge of disappointment.
"Next week? You mean I have to wait?"
"Danny," his mother rebuked gently. "There's a lot of paperwork involved in a transfer like this, and that takes time. You can use the time to finish that Greek project you're working on, if you need to stay busy."
"Aww, mom..."
Everyone laughed, and after a moment Danny joined them.
Then Xavier spoke again, to Danny's mother:
"Regarding your son Brian: I would like for him to attend the Institute as well. His powers may prove dangerous if he does not learn to control them."
Danny exchanged a glance with his mother, who had gone pale at Xavier's words.
"Oh, dear. I'm sorry if I upset--" Xavier began.
"No, no, it's all right," Brenda said hastily. Then she shrugged. "What happened, happened. You can't change the past." She paused and looked sharply at Xavier, who shook his head slightly. She acknowledged that with a skeptic nod and then said in a rush "I want Brian to have the same opportunity that Danny has been given, but I don't know where he is. He just took off so suddenly and..." She trailed off and looked down at the tablecloth with a helpless expression.
"Do not worry," Xavier's voice was soothing. "We will find him. In fact, I've been trying to locate him since we arrived. However, I've had difficulty getting an exact trace on him."
"He's by the docks."
Everyone turned to look at Danny in surprise, but he stared with wide eyes through them all as though seeing something beyond the walls of his mother's kitchen.
"What was that, Danny?" Xavier asked in a low voice.
"He's in an alley by the docks," Danny said. "He's sad and...angry...at something, but he's not even surewhat."
"Danny." His mother touched his arm gently, and he seemed to snap back into reality. He looked up into her concerned face. "What happened? What did you do?" she demanded.
"I don't know. I just started thinking about Brian and then I...I was there. With him. Looking through his eyes, as though I was inside his head."
Danny was genuinely frightened by this startling complication. Jean and Xavier shared a long, obscure look and he didn't know why.
Finally the tall black woman, Ororo, cleared her throat.
"Well, perhaps someone should go and get him," she said, immediately changing the tenor of the conversation. Danny felt himself relax slightly.
Jean and the guy with the cool sunglasses stood up.
"We'll go get him, Professor," she said.
"Can I come?" Danny was on the edge of his seat; it was his brother they were talking about, after all.
"Not dressed like that you won't," his mother said firmly.
Danny looked down and realized he was still in his pajamas.
"Uh," he said, turning a deep shade of red. "just let me get dressed--"
"And take a shower, young man."
Danny was mortified; why did she have to do this in front of company?
"OK," he said, thoroughly embarrassed, "Fine! I'll take a shower and get dressed, and we can go in fifteen minutes!"
"Don't worry about it, Sport," said the guy with the shades. "It won't take us long. We'll probably have him back here by the time you're done."
Danny considered that. As much as he wanted to see Brian, he realized that he'd slow these people down or get in the way somehow. He decided the guy (Scott?) was right. A thought struck him: Sport? Why did he use that nickname?
Nodding slowly, Danny turned to the older boy who was waiting patiently for a response.
"All right," he said. "You go ahead. But hurry back!" he added as Scott and Jean turned to leave.
Scott waved at him in acknowledgement, but Danny didn't see the gesture; he was already on his way to his bedroom.
XXXXX
Jean couldn't control it any longer. The emotions she had suppressed all morning finally burst forth in the form of giggles.
"What's so funny?" Scott asked her as they climbed into the van.
Jean looked over at Scott -- so focused, so determined, so serious all the time -— and immediately started giggling again.
"What?" he repeated.
"Sorry," she said, trying to keep a straight face. "I was just thinking about Danny."
Scott raised his eyebrows. "Isn't he a little young for you?"
"Very funny. He's just a cute kid, that's all." She laughed out loud. "He certainly didn't like being called 'Sport'. You might not want to call him that when he gets to the Institute. If you don't watch out, you might just hand Bobby a willing accomplice."
Scott groaned as he started the engine, and for good reason: Bobby Drake was notorious throughout the Institute for his outrageous practical jokes. "So do you think that he'll fit in?"
How skillfully he changes the subject, Jean thought.
She thought about that for a moment. "I think so. He's bright, and he seems friendly." She paused. "I'm sure Jamie will be thrilled, too."
If Scott noticed the slight hesitation, he didn't show it. "Yeah," he agreed, "it'll be good for him to have someone his own age around. He always seems kind of lonely."
You have no idea, Jean thought.
They drove in silence for a moment before Scott spoke again:
"How do you think he's holding up with the whole, well, father thing?" he asked her. When she didn't reply for several minutes, he tried again. "Jean?"
"I'm not sure,"she said truthfully. She shook her head. "I don't think he's come to grips with it yet. He seemed more concerned about his brother than his father's death. In fact, he seemed more relieved than anything else."
Scott nodded, saying nothing.
Jean stared out the window, letting the conversation drop for the time being. What had been done to Danny, she wondered, that the boy would feel relief at his own father's death? She'd have to remember to talk to the Professor about this. Surely he'd picked up the same impression. She started as Scott's voice broke into her thoughts.
"We're here."
Jean looked around as she stepped out of the van, carefully taking in her surroundings. Large structures -- some new, some old, but all uniformly ugly -- were arranged in a maze-like pattern. She must have truly been lost in her thoughts not to have noticed the change in scenery. If someone wanted to hide, she decided this was a good place to do so.
The only discordant feature was the oppressive silence: the only sounds were mournful cries from the seagulls circling overhead.
"He could be anywhere," Jean muttered in dismay.
"Let's split up. We can cover more ground that way," Scott said encouragingly. She admitted he was right. "If you see him, let me know. And Jean: be careful. We don't know what state of mind this kid is in right now."
"Got it" Jean smiled, giving him a thumbs-up as he strode away.
Jean spent the next quarter of an hour searching the alleyways between and behind the various warehouses. It quickly became apparent that this might take longer than they thought; there turned out to be a lot of little passages between the warehouses, and there didn't seem to be any pattern to them that she could figure out. She frequently found debris blocking her path, forcing her to take another route. Each detour threw her off-balance and she looked forward to finding this kid and being done with it.
Despite the obstacles, she trudged onward in search of Brian. She could sense his confused, scattered thoughts, but she couldn't pin down his location. Finally she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. She whirled around in time to see a figure dash behind a corner.
"Wait!" she cried, but the person had already disappeared.
Jean followed at a run. Turning the corner, she praised her luck. The boy – she'd seen that much, anyway – had darted into one of the narrow passageways between two of the larger warehouses. The long stretch of ground between the buildings was narrow, but there were no branching paths.
She was able to get a better look at the boy as she chased him. He was about seventeen, with short brown hair. Jean reached out with her mind, straining to brush against his own; if this wasn't the kid they were looking for, she was wasting her time.
The boy looked back at her suddenly, meeting her eye as their minds touched. This was indeed Brian Knight, she realized in that seemingly frozen instant. But then she caught a brief, fleeting glimpse of the boy's mind and it both frightened and saddened her.
Scott! I found him! she mentally screamed. With a jolt, she realized that one glimpse had caught her off-balance and cursed herself for letting her control slip.
All right, Scott responded immediately. I'm on my way!
Jean didn't reply; Brian put on a burst of speed and she was hard pressed to keep up with him. He finally erred, making a wrong turn into a blind alley. Jean saw his frantic gestures as he searched for an escape, but the alley was a dead end.
She came to a stop at the alley's entrance and slowly made her way toward the frightened boy.
"It's OK, Brian,"she soothed with both voice and mind. "I'm not here to hurt you." The boy stood with his back to her, making no sign as to having heard her. She tried again: "I just want to talk. I know what you must be going through--"
"You have no idea what I'm going through!" Brian yelled without turning.
Jean didn't hesitate.
"You might be surprised. When I first discovered my gifts I was scared and confused, just like you. Then I learned about the Xavier Institute: a place where I could be safe, where I could learn to control my gifts. A place where nobody would hate me for being different."
Brian snorted, his only response.
Now she was standing right beside the boy, watching him carefully. His head hung low and she couldn't see his face; he'd turned away from her as she'd approached.
Jean reached out a cautious hand. "I just want to help you--"
"Help me? You want to help me!"
Brian spun around and Jean recoiled at the sudden violence of the motion.
"You want to help?" he repeated in harsh, strained tones. The boy laughed, but Jean could feel the anguish pouring off him in waves.
"Where was your help when I needed it?" Jean's hair began to stand on end and she could feel an aura of static and power emanating from him. "Where was your help when my father came home drunk? Where were you when he called my brother names? Where were you when he broke down Danny's confidence?"
Jean grazed his mind with her most delicate touch and immediately regretted it: jarring images came to her, a rippling succession of scattered and indistinct memories. She realized that Brian was on the verge of madness; his mind was no longer in the present.
Instead, he was reliving pieces of his past - painful pieces of his past. His thoughts were too unfocused for Jean to read what he was remembering, but the raw, aching emotions were coming through loud and clear: he had been hurting for a long time.
"Where was your help when he used us as a punching bag?" His voice rose into a howl of rageWhere were you when he forced him out of the closet? Where were you when he tried to kill him? WHERE WERE YOU?"
Jean ducked, barely managing to avoid Brian's fist as he lashed out and struck through the aluminum wall behind her. When he turned back to her, she gasped involuntarily. His eyes glowed brightly with a fierce rage, but it wasn't directed at her. She hadn't even attempted to comprehend the vicious look in his eyes before they changed again.
The anger and the sullen glow had vanished, to be replaced with a look of wide-eyed horror.
Brian pulled his fist out of hole he had just created. His eyes slid from the hole to Jean, who had to make a conscious effort not to flinch. She didn't have to read his thoughts to know that he was imagining what might have happened had she not evaded his blow.
Brian's eyes glazed over once again, but this time it was with tears. With a short, jerky movement he brought his hand to his chest and fell to his knees. Jean knelt quickly beside him as he abruptly paled.
"Are you all right?" she asked in concern. Where the heck was Scott?
"No," grated Brian through clenched teeth. "It feels like my chest is going to explode." He reeled, but caught his balance before Jean could steady him.
"Don't panic," she said. Come on, Scott. I need you now. "Just try to stay calm. Everything will be all right."
Jean wasn't sure the boy had heard her at all. For a long moment, he just knelt beside her like a small statue, utterly motionless. Eventually he relaxed and his expression softened into something more recognizably human.
"I'm sorry," he said in a quiet voice. "I didn't mean to hurt you." He looked up at her with a miserable look on his face.
"What is it? Please, tell me what's wrong, Brian. I only want to help you," coaxed Jean. She had to strain to hear his next words.
"You wouldn't understand."
"I might if you tell me, but I won't know unless you tell me," she said gently. "Do you want to tell me?"
Brain hesitated briefly and Jean held her breath in anticipation. Would he open up to her? Please, Brian, you have to talk to someone. Let it be me.
"I'm just like him," Brian whispered in a hoarse tone. He looked up into Jean's eyes, as though expecting something – she wasn't entirely sure exactly what – and when he didn't see it, blurted: "I swore that I'd never be like him! I'd have control! I wouldn't strike out at everything and everyone around me. But then he...but he never...oh, God! I didn't want to be like my father!"
Sobs overwhelmed the boy and Jean grimaced. She'd figured Derek Knight to be type who ruled his household with an iron fist and it seemed as though she hadn't been too far off the mark. Some of the images she'd pulled from Brian's mind made more sense now, but they also raised a lot more questions. Those could wait; he needed comfort at the moment, not an interrogation.
Jean gently laid a hand the boy's shoulder and did her best not to flinch when he flung himself into her arms and wept. She said nothing at first, but simply pulled his head to her shoulder as he unleashed his tears. For a long minute she simply rocked him as she would a small child.
A familiar presence approached and she looked up. Scott stood watching from the entrance of the alley. When he moved to join them, she shook her head and waved him back. No need to complicate things. When Brian's tears started to abate she began whispering to him about the Institute, telling him about the things he could learn there.
After a moment or two longer, the boy pulled away and wiped his sleeve across his face, dashing away the last bit of moisture
"So," Brian sniffled after another pause. "About this Institute place. The...people there can teach me to control my powers? So that I don't," he swallowed hard, "kill someone else?"
Jean nodded, glancing at Scott. He seemed just as surprised as she at this one hundred and eighty degree turnabout.
"Yes, that's what the Xavier Institute is for," she replied.
Brian looked clearly relieved. "All right," he said. "I'll give it a try."
"Great," Jean replied with a reassuring smile at the boy. She stood and offered Brian a hand to his feet. "Now let's just get you home so that we can make the--"
"No!" exclaimed Brian. Jean's eyebrows shot up as he shrank back from her hand and huddled against the wall. He'd gone pale again.
"What?" she said in alarm. "What is it?"
"I can't go back there," he said with a fearful look on his face. "I can't face them."
Author's Note:
I really have to give a big shout out to Jack B. Nimble for his editing (read: rewriting) of this chapter. Just about half of what's up there is his work. It sure was better than the original draft, I'll tell you that :p So thanks again Jack, and please come back from the land of the Lost.