Building Neptune

Chapter Seven: "Slipping into the Stream"

John had a problem with leaving well enough alone. At least, that's what Toad would tell him. He went on his own time, though, so it was really none of Toad's fucking business if he went to Xavier's. A phone call to his office, using a fake accent, assured him that Professor Xavier had not yet returned from his engagements in New York City.

He staked the school out for half a day in a tree, waiting for an opportunity to present itself. Yes, it was technically stalking, but John was a terrorist. Stalking was hardly a drop in the bucket. Finally, just around noon when the rest of the students were inside, he saw a flash of blonde hair at the rear entrance. Cal was wandering away from the school, back toward the gardens. John grinned.

Climbing out the branch he'd been sitting on, he jumped over to the wrought iron fence that went around the school, and then dropped down to the grass silently. He moved toward the back door so it would look like he'd come from the school. He called out to him. "Cal?"

Cal turned, frowning for a moment, and John wondered if he even remembered him. He strode toward the gardens after him, grinning and looking as friendly as he could. "You probably don't remember me. We met at that club a couple weeks ago."

"I remember you." Cal looked away toward the gardens. He jerked his head for John to walk with him, and he did. "I never got your name."

"John. I didn't expect to see you here of all places."

"You neither. Are you with Xavier's?"

John gave an easy smile and admired the foliage. They'd put in more irises since he'd left. "I used to go here. I'm just stopping by to visit."

"Then when you talked to me before—you weren't talking about this place?"

"No. I'm with a different organization now. The ideology is a bit different. This place is great and all, but I'm more comfortable now than when I was here."

Cal stopped at a bench near the daffodils and sat. "Why is that? I just moved here, so I don't know much about it."

John sat next to him. "They're really straight-laced here, rules and uniformity and all that. I needed more room to breathe and misbehave and take on responsibility. This place always made me feel like something was wrong with me for wanting that."

"I guess I can see that. It's hard getting used to curfews and no drinking and going to class. It's been a while since I've had anything like that."

"A lot of the kids here, they had a rough time manifesting, but before that, they had nice, middle-class, cookie-cutter families that loved them and took care of them. Most of them went straight from their houses in the suburbs to the mansion. They just don't get it."

Cal nodded thoughtfully and leaned back in the bench. "You haven't asked about Matt."

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yeah. You were so nosy before, I'm a little surprised."

"You were in trouble then. Nosing in was the responsible thing to do. You seem safe enough now. Would you like me to ask about him?"

"He's dead."

John went quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands in his lap. "I'm sorry."

"You're only the second person to say that. And the first didn't know what he'd done to me."

"Idiotic or not, you were staying with him for a reason, I suppose."

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For getting it." Cal reached over the back of the bench, his fingers brushing the tops of the flowers. "You haven't asked about my eye either." The bandages were lighter, but still covered the eye.

"Tell me about your eye."

"Matt swung a candlestick at my head."

"Jesus."

"Yeah. He was going to kill me, so I killed him first—accidentally, but still."

"Are you going to be able to see out of it?"

"I just said I killed my boyfriend."

John leaned an arm on the back of the bench and pillowed his head on it, staring at Cal thoughtfully. "Totally justifiably."

A pause. "I'll probably lose some of my sight in that eye. Most of the damage was to the surrounding bone, though."

"And I'm sure Dr. Grey is keeping close tabs on your recovery." He smiled.

Cal rolled his good eye. "She's got me in therapy."

John groaned, sitting up and laughing. "Of course she does. God forbid if they didn't know what went on in all of our heads, right?"

"I don't know. It's sort of nice to work through some stuff. She's very…stiff, though, when it comes to certain subjects."

"Sex, drugs, and rock n' roll?"

"Pretty much. I mean, just about all of my issues have to do with sex, so she constantly either has this fake poker face on or she's pursing her lips and sighing. Even at the good parts."

"Well, you know she's engaged to Summers, right? A couple like that does it with the lights out and their shirts still on. She hears bondage and jumps to heroin-fuelled orgies."

Cal laughed. They lapsed into silence. "So why are you out here with me instead of inside, catching up with your old friends?"

John smirked. "I remembered why I'd left in the first place."

"Does that mean you won't come around again?" Cal had this hesitant, forced half-smile.

"Probably not." John's smirk softened. "I guess you lost my number in the chaos?"

"Yeah, probably."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen and pad of paper. He scribbled his number, tore the sheet off and passed it over. "Give me a call sometime. You can try visiting my world for a bit." He stood and gave Cal one last glance before heading back around the mansion. He'd hop the fence once he was out of Cal's line of sight.

xxx

The Professor returned in a limo early the next morning. Most of the students left the breakfast table to greet him in the front hall, Bobby among them. Cal lingered just inside the doorway to the dining room, watching as he nodded and smiled politely. He seemed friendly, but the students were formal with him, nearly stiff. This man had probably saved his ass from prison—and his ass would not have done well in prison—but he still felt a sense of trepidation at the sight of him.

On cue, Xavier looked up and met his eyes from across the room, a knowing look on his face. I would very much like to meet with you in my office after breakfast. The words echoed in his head, and he barely stopped himself from looking around for the speaker. His eyes flicked to the floor, then back up at the Professor. He nodded quickly and retreated back to the breakfast table.

When he got to Professor Xavier's office, the doors opened of their own accord. The old man smiled at him from behind his desk. "Come in, Mr. Hogan."

If he hadn't already been nervous, the name threw him off. His last name reminded him of his family, reminded him of things he'd rather not think about. He hadn't used it in a while, preferring to exclude his last name or, occasionally, adopt Matt's last name, Cameron. He supposed that wouldn't go over so well anymore.

"Is there a name you would prefer I call you?" the Professor asked, and that threw him off, too, knowing that he was in his head like that.

Cal shuffled into the room. The doors closed behind him. "Uh, Calin is fine. Or Cal. That's what everyone calls me."

Xavier smiled. "That's a good, strong name, Calin. From the Irish, it means, 'Powerful Warrior.'"

"It's what my parents were expecting, I guess. Not exactly what they got."

"I suppose we'll see in time whether or not that's true." He stared at the boy for a moment, then motioned toward a chair. "Please, sit."

He lowered himself into a chair, tense and trying not to jiggle his leg. "So what did you want to see me about? Uh, sir?"

"Well, I figured we should be properly introduced. So, as you know, I am Professor Charles Xavier. We're very glad to have you here, Calin."

Cal nodded. "Yeah. Thanks. Um, nice to meet you, I guess."

The Professor smiled gently. "How are you liking your stay here so far?"

"It's good, I guess. I'm starting classes now, so that sort of sucks." He froze, kicking himself internally. He stammered momentarily. "Uh, I mean, it's not—I'm glad I can go and all, and I meant stinks, not sucks, but, uh, I didn't mean that either."

Xavier held up a hand. "Relax. You're allowed to dislike school. I am a teacher, after all, and I hold no illusions about my pupils' enthusiasm."

Cal tried to laugh. He tried to relax. He managed to lower his shoulders half an inch.

"What about the living situation? Are you adjusting well?"

"Yeah, my roommate's really nice. Bobby Drake. He's really cool about…well, everything."

"Everything being what, exactly?"

"You know, rooming with a gay guy for starters. And, uh." He hesitated, staring at his hand as he traced lines on his knee with his finger. "Uh, well, I'm still kind of freaking out about stuff sometimes. It's getting better, though, I think. But with Matt and everything…"

Xavier looked thoughtful. "Jean told me you've been speaking with her regularly. Is that helping with the 'freaking out' at all?"

Cal shrugged. "I guess? I mean, I still miss him and stuff, that's not gonna change."

"No, I suppose not." He smiled and turned his chair to his bookshelf, scanning through it for a moment before pulling a book down. "I think you might enjoy this one." He turned back and passed the book to Cal.

"A Separate Peace?"

"It's a classic."

"I'm not exactly a big reader."

"It's well within your reading ability. Give it a try."

Cal turned the book over once, then looked up at the Professor uncertainly. "Thanks."

"Feel free to come by my office any time, Calin. My door is always open."

Taking that as his permission to leave, Cal stood and forced himself to not run from the room.