"No, Nate! You can't run with da ball!"

Nathan doesn't stop, and has run to the other side of the King size bed, clearly trying to decide if he can make a dash for the door.

"Momma tes you tan't boss me wround, Ray Ray! I want to pway wit da ball, too!"

A five-year-old Rachel puts her hands on her hips and glares at her three-year-old brother. "I'm not bossin' you. I'm telling you how to pway da game! Now give me da ball back!"

"No!" Nate yells, trying to run past his sister. Nathan has almost made it to the door, when Rachel throws her hand out, trying to grab him. As she flails her hand, the pictures, jewelry, and perfume on their mother's dresser goes flying into the wall, causing liquid and glass to go everywhere.

Both children freeze, eyes wide in surprise and terror, as hurried footsteps can be heard approaching; and Jean quickly enters the room closely followed by Scott.

"What on earth happened?!" Jean asks, her voice stern but laced with panic. She squats in front of Nathan, as he is the closest to the door, and starts brushing back his sandy brown hair, as she looks him over for any possible injuries.

Scott is frozen in the door way, taking in the mess. The room smells strongly of cinnamon with a hint of vanilla, very clearly Jean's favorite perfume.

At his mother's touch, Nathan starts crying, drops the ball, and grabs on to Jean's neck. The mother carefully stands with her son, and turns to her daughter. Rachel is standing with a look of shock and fear on her face, mouth opened.

Scott is still standing in the door, hands behind is head trying to figure out what he can do. Sensing her husband isn't going to be of use at this point, Jean walks to her daughter and attempts to squat in front of her, Nathan still clinging to the front of her body.

"Rachel, baby, can you tell me what happened?"

Rachel is still looking at the dresser and down to her hands. After a moment, the young girl blinks a few times as if just now realizing her parents are even in the room. "I… I..." Rachel looks around the room again, and then to her mother.

"I threw da ball at Nate, but missed. I sorry, Momma. I..." The young red head's lower lip starts to tremble and tears are starting to escape her eyes.

"No, you idn't!" Nathan yells threw his sobs. "She… It uhs her and, Mommy. She did it mit her h-hand, like w-when you pick up our t-toys."

Jean glances at Scott, and both parents understand that their daughter has come into her telekinetic powers.

"No! No. It… I… No!" The five-year-old looks terrified and on the verge of panicking.

"Scott, I need your help here." Jean says to her husband.

Scott jumps slightly, but shakes his head, and approaches their daughter. As he gets down on one knee, he says, "Ray, honey, Mommy and I aren't mad. It sounds like what happened in here was an accident."

The little girl has backed away from her parents, until her back is against their bed, her eyes on the dresser again.

Jean stands and leaves the room, returning a few minutes later without Nathan. Looking to his wife, Scott asks, "What do we do?"

Jean glances around the room once more and then to her terrified daughter. Part of her heart is breaking at the sight, and she knows that they need to address this carefully. Slowly, Jean approaches the scared girl. Rachel attempts to back away, but there's nowhere for her to go with her back against the bed, so she just pulls her arms in tight, her little body completely rigid.

Stopping in front of the scared girl, Jean squats down, again, and slowly reaches a hand out until it's cradling the young girls face. After a moment, Rachel's blue eyes meet her mother's brown.

"Hi, baby." Jean coos with a small smile. Rachel tries to shake her face away, but Jean keeps her hand pressed firmly against it, her other hand reaching out to hold the young girl's hands. Rachel tenses when their hands meet.

At this, Scott joins his wife in front of their daughter and Rachel is now looking between her parents. "I sorry, m-momma."

It's barely above a whisper, but both parents heard it, and with that Jean pulls the girl into her, holding her tightly. Jean feels the little body tense again, but then release, and she finds herself holding her sobbing daughter.

Jean lets out a slow breath, and looks to Scott, "I put Nathan in front of the TV with Whinnie the Pooh on. Can you go check on him and then come back with a juice?"

Scott nods, and reaches out to stroke Rachel's head, before standing and exiting the room. After a few minutes, he returns with apple juice in a glass with a straw, a damp wash cloth, and some tissues.

During his absents, Jean moved her and Rachel, so that the young girl is cradled in her lap and Jean's back is now against the bed. As he walks over, Scott tells his wife, "He's fine. I gave him a bowl of cheerio's and his own cup of juice. As far as he's concerned, his birthday has come early since he's getting TV and juice all in one day."

Jean smiles weakly at this. Her and Scott really limit the amount of TV the kids watch, and only on special occasions do they get to have sugary drinks. Once he's next to the bed, Scott slides down next to his wife.

Rachel has stopped crying, and Jean is slowly rocking them both back and forth. After few more moments, Jean clears her throat, "Rachel, sweetheart, I need you to look at me and Daddy."

At first it seems like the girl is going to ignore her mother, but reluctantly she peels off her mother's chest and cautiously looks to them. Her eyes are red and puffy, and her little face is drained of color. There's snot all over her nose, and, well, Jean's shirt is covered and soaked from tears.

Scott tenderly reaches out with a tissue and wipes his daughters nose, followed by the wash cloth. Once that's done, he hands Jean the juice, "Can you take a couple sips of the juice for me?" Jean coaxes.

Rachel opens her mouth, and Jean guides the straw between her lips. The young girl sucks down the entire glass of juice in a matter of seconds, and Jean is glad she asked Scott to bring it. The juice has helped the pale undertone of the girl's skin, and Rachel doesn't look as terrified.

Once Jean places the glass next to them, she turns Rachel so that the girl is straddling her legs, and Jean is holding her hands in her own. Scott reaches out his own hand, and strokes the girl's cheek, "Can you tell us what happened in here? What really happened." He corrects, as both parents can see the gears turning the little girls head.

Rachel glances back over her shoulder and then looks down to her mother's lap. "I tried to stop Nate, and caused the stuff to fall off."

Her voice is mumbled, and barely audible. "Rachel," Jean warns, her daughter knowing that a clear answer is expected.

The small child huffs a sigh, "I… I wanted da ball back, but Nate wouldn't give it to me. He tried to run, so I-I was going to get his arm, but instead all the stuff just… It just falled."

Rachel looks up, panic returning to her features. "Momma, I really didn't know it was going to happen. I know I'm supposed to share da ball, but I didn't mean to break your stuffs, I really didn't. My hand, it… I..."

The young girl is staring at her hand, fear in her eyes. "Hey, hey, hey. Rachel, look at me." Slowly, Rachel's eyes meet her mother's, and Jean firmly grasps her hands, holding them up so that they're in their line of sight, but eyes are locked. "Daddy and I are not upset; do you hear me?"

Eventually, a small nod come from the girl. "You are not in trouble. Yes, you need to share the ball with your brother, and we talked about being bossy, but what happened," Jean holds up Rachel's hands up further, "was an accident. Accidents happen. And honey, I'm sorry that it scarred you." The young girls lip starts to tremble again, as Jean continues, "but you are okay. Nathan is okay, mommy's stuff, I'll fix it. Okay?"

When the girl doesn't react, Jean lifts her chin, "we don't lie about our powers. Ever. What happened today, was scary, very scary for you, but it's also exciting. Baby, you have new powers."

Rachel starts shaking her head, and attempts to pull her hands away, "I don't want more powers!"

This shocks both Jean and Scott, "Ray, why do you say that?" Scott cuts in.

Rachel shrugs, but then whispers, "I, I was mad at brother. I.. I was going to take the ball. He, I… Daddy, I almost hurt him-"

Understanding dawns on both parents, "Jean, how do we handle this?" Scott asks, as his wife's eyes meet his, "We..."

"IIII can hear you!" Rachel cuts in, her little voice annoyed.

"Hey, you know better than to listen to mine and Daddy's conversations." Jean chastises without a second thought.

The little girl narrows her eyes, and crosses her arms. Both parent let out a laugh; clearly the girl isn't scarred by today's incident and is quickly returning to normal.

Jean looks to the mess, and then back to her daughter. Deliberately, Jean raises her own hand and Rachel turns and watches; as Jean replaces the broken picture frames and jewelry back on the dresser. The glass will need to be replaced in the frames, but that can wait; and the perfume is a lost cause, so Scott makes a mental note to buy more for his wife.

When Rachel turns back to her parents Jean says, "we practice. We don't hide from our powers, or else they stay scary and unpredictable. Daddy and I are here to help you, as well as Aunt Ororo, Uncle Hank, and Bonpa (the name the kids decided to call Professor X)." Leaning forward to kiss Rachel's head, Jean continues, "Baby, you are not alone and I don't want you to be scared of yourself, okay?"

The small girl looks down to her hands and then back to the dresser. As she faces her parents, she asks in a soft voice, "you promise you'll help me?"

"Yes, always." Scott says, reaching out to squeeze his daughters shoulder.

"But, what if I hurt someone?"


My eyes open slowly, and I take in my dark room. I blink a few times, and slowly sit up. Why on earth would my brain go back to that memory?

Deciding I need some water, I slowly get out of bed. "Hey, everything alright?" Comes Annie's tired voice.

"Yeah, weird dream. I'm going to get some water, need anything?"

"Nah, but want me to come?"

I shake my head and then realize she can't see me. "No, I'm good. Be back shortly."

As I'm trudging down the hall, I see a light coming from under the Professor's office door. Part of me says to just get my water and go back to bed, but my feet carry me to the office door instead. Standing in front of it, I hesitate, about to knock, when his voice comes from inside, "Come in, Rachel."

Slowly, I turn the knob and enter. The professor is at his desk, and I smile at him. He's dressed in a white shirt, and I know that means he's also wearing blue plaid pajama pants. Students are always surprised to see him in sleep wear, though it's not often he's out in it. They're so used to his nicely pressed suits.

I close the door behind me, and turn to walk to the chair across from him. As I sit, he slides a mug of cocoa towards me, causing me to give him a surprised look.

"Old habits die hard." He says with a smile.

"You saw my dream?" I ask.

When I was younger, whenever I had a bad dream and mom didn't come get me, I'd often wake to the professor offering me cocoa in the kitchen. We'd discuss whatever it was that was on my mind, and then I'd go back to bed. It's been a few years since we've had one of these chats.

"So, your powers are worrying you?"

I take a sip of my drink, and lick the marshmallow from my lips, "umm, no. I don't think so. What happened last week sucked, but.. I mean, it happens, right?"

He gives me a smile and nods, so I continued, "I, maybe subconsciously, I'm still nervous, but I honestly don't know where that dream came from… Or, I guess, memory since it actually happened."

The professor gives me a thoughtful look, but surprises me with his next question, "How is Mr. Anderson adjusting?"

"Oh, uh, fine."

"He's joining you in the danger room this coming week?" The professor asks, taking a drinking of his own cocoa.

"That's what Storm said, but Sir, I really don't understand how we're going to train with him… He's, well, only useful in water and my team, well, isn't?"

That didn't come out how I wanted but Professor X gives me a knowing smile. "I think you'll be surprised how Mr. Anderson can benefit your team, Rachel. Remember everyone helps in unexpected ways."

I roll my eyes at this 'wisdom'. "Okay, sure." I respond, and take a few more sips of my cocoa, enjoying the comfortable silence. After a moment, I give into the question that's been in the back of my mind.

When I look up, the Professor is already looking at me expectantly. Sighing, I say, "I feel like something's coming. I don't know what or when, but… Ugh, never mind."

Professor Xavier is quiet for a moment, and then gently says, "What have you been taught your whole life?"

I purse my lips slightly before reluctantly saying, "to trust my instincts." I quickly continue, "But, Bonpa, my instincts have been a little cray cray lately if you haven't noticed?"

I blush slightly at the use of the old nickname Nate and I coined for the Professor when we were little. "Dumb memory." I think, blaming my dream for its reemergence.

The professor raises an eyebrow at my choice of words 'cray cray', but then smiles none the less. "So, it is your powers that have you worried?"

"No… Yes. Ugh, I don't know, but it's more than that. I think-"

"Time. Time will tell what is to come. You know that, I know that. Fear. Fear holds us back. Let go of the fear and I'm sure things will become more clear."

"Fear helps us stay in control." I retort, without thinking and then wince.

The professor gives me a sad smile, "My child, you know that's not true."

I drink the rest of my cocoa and place the mug back on his desk. "I feel out of control and not at the same time. It's as if this dread that is in my gut, this feeling that something is coming, makes my powers that much more unpredictable. Mom found nothing wrong with me last week..."

"But you're convinced something is wrong with you?"

I shrug.

"Are you still having the headaches?"

The headaches haven't stopped, but I chose to say, "off and on."

When I'm met with silence, I sigh, "What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to say whatever you feel you need to say. It's not me you need to be honest with, but yourself."

"Ugh, you sound like a fortune cookie."

This earns me a small laugh, and when I look up, I smile back at the Professor. "You should talk to your mother. She's familiar with the fear of losing control."

This surprises me, my mom is the epitome of always in control. My face must show my surprise because the professor continues, "It's not my story, or stories, to tell, but Rachel, you're not alone."

My response is another sigh, I want to press more, but I know that it won't do any good, so I nod, "I know."

Suddenly, tiredness sets in and I remember that it's the middle of the night. Knowing that our conversation is over, I stand and grab mine and the professors mugs from the desk, to take back to the kitchen. As I approach the door, I stop and turn back, walking to the desk.

As I walk around to stand next to him, the professor looks at me puzzled. I bend, and give him a quick kiss on the cheek, saying, "Goodnight, Bonpa," and with that I head back to bed.


Author Note:

Stay Rad, Peeps. Happy Friday/Weekend! -Shan