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Fic : Beginnings 1/4 (Xavier, Scott, Hank )

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  • s.riley@southampton.gov.uk
    Title : Beginnings Author: Sarita Email: s.riley@southampton.gov.uk Pairings : Xavier, Scott, Hank Rating : Caution - deals with adult themes , depression,
    Message 1 of 1 , Jan 31, 2001
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      Title : Beginnings
      Author: Sarita
      Email: s.riley@...
      Pairings : Xavier, Scott, Hank
      Rating : Caution - deals with adult themes , depression, suicide and
      attempted rape.
      Notes : Movieverse. This is my take on "How it all began" with
      Xavier/ Scott. Also introduces Hank (note - this is Hank before one
      of his own experiments turns him blue !)There is a sequel that
      follows on from exactly where this leaves off - it is not finished
      yet but will be coming soon unless you all hate this and tell me so.
      Archive : List archive, power of cyclops and anyone else who wants it
      and lets me know where its going!
      Feedback welcomed !


      Charles Xavier sighed deeply and removed the Cerebro link, placing
      it carefully on the work station before him. He closed his eyes
      briefly and massaged his temples, vaguely aware of the dull ache that
      promised a headache yet to fully develop. Still no tangible trace of
      the boy he desperately sought. Oh , he could feel the boy,
      could "taste" the distinct flavour of the boys' mind. So
      full of
      promise and yet in such desperate peril that increased with every
      passing moment. Charles had never felt so helpless than in this
      moment of realisation that for all his enormous power – here was
      someone he could help, needed to help, and yet was just beyond the
      limits of his capabilities to find.

      It had begun a mere three weeks ago. Hank McCoy had assisted him in
      making some adjustments to Cerebro that had resulted in radically
      shifting its' range. He had experimented. Searching for those
      telltale signs of emerging mutant power. His idea for a school was
      complete save one important detail. He had, as yet, no students. Jean
      would join him at the school of course, but she was about to begin
      her college education. He had tutored her in sheilding her mind from
      a young age at the behest of her parents, good friends of his. But
      Jean would not be a student as such. She would come to learn not just
      to shield but finally to learn to use and control her powers. She
      would help him as much as she could whilst pursuing her own goal to
      qualify as a Doctor. So he had begun his search. Young minds to whom
      he could offer help and where necessary protection. People who could
      be taught the value of humanity and more importantly, themselves. It
      had come as a shock, quite literally, when he had found such a mind
      in the midst of the maelstrom of emerging power.

      Charles had been casting his mind to the far reaches of Cerebro's
      range when a seemingly inert mutation had become startlingly
      apparent. Charles had gasped and slapped the device from his head,
      breaking the link to stop his own senses overloading with the shock.
      Swiftly rebuilding his own shields he concentrated on the unique
      signature of that mind and once again slipped on the link. The
      signature still blazed clearly in the afterglow of emergence but this
      time he was prepared. He carefully sought the consciousness behind
      the power and suddenly he had an identity and circumstance to add to
      the signature. A young boy of maybe seventeen in a high school in
      Nebraska. A vague sense that it was night outside and there was a
      dance. High School prom maybe. The boy's mind was a whirlwind of
      pain, confusion, fear and….red. Everything in his perception was
      bathed in red and just as suddenly it went dark. Charles gradually
      pieced together what had happened from the boys confused mind as
      shock receded to be replaced by cold fear and aching grief.

      The boy had been at his High School dance when his power had emerged.
      He had felt pain in his eyes and had gone to the bathroom. Somewhere
      along the line the pain had ceased and he had opened his eyes with
      devastating results. Some form of optical energy had been emitted and
      destroyed everything in its path. It suddenly became clear to Charles
      how he had perceived it to be night. The boy had been looking at the
      stars. Through what was left of the roof of the school building. He
      had a perception that people had been hurt, that the boy grieved for
      his actions , however unintentional. It had been at that point that
      his sense of the boys location had become deeply confused. The boy
      had been taken from the school but was unsure where to. He had his
      eyes closed, Charles realised. Charles was dependant upon the boys
      own sense of where he was to locate him and right now, the boy was
      far too distraught to focus clearly on anything even in surroundings
      that must have been at least vaguely familiar to him.

      Charles had rushed from Cerebro to find Hank. They needed to get to
      the boy fast, before he could be labelled destructive and a danger to
      those around him. Charles knew all to well that mutants were
      tolerated at best even where the mutation was innocuous or not
      apparent to the outside world. This incident would be too big to be
      ignored by those who would argue mutants were dangerous. The boy was
      unlikely to find much in the way of help and sympathy for his own
      predicament in the face of others fear and prejudice. Hank had been
      in the middle of an experiment on mutant DNA, continuing his pursuit
      of discovery in that area. Charles knew Hanks' work critical to
      cause, so many mutants had unstable or rapidly evolving alterations
      that only enhanced the prejudice they faced. Hank sought ways to
      stabilise the ever changing mutant genome. Hank had immediately
      understood the situation and , quite literally, dropped everything to
      drive Charles. It had taken hours to find a flight, longer still to
      locate the exact town from Charles recollections. Even still it was
      less than 24 hours later they arrived at the ruins of the high
      school. Within an hour they realised they were still too late. The
      boy had fled. Charles had listened with growing dismay to various
      accounts of the events following the devastation at the dance. The
      authorities had initially taken the boy back to his parents, foster
      parents actually. But they had refused to let him through the door
      disgusted and terrified by what their "son" had become. From
      of the high school swim team to mutant freak in the space of less
      than an hour.

      Not knowing, perhaps not really caring, what else to do with him he
      had been taken to the hospital where an ignorant doctor had refused
      to listen when the boy had desperately told him he couldn't open
      eyes, of what happened when he did. Accusing the police and boy of
      hysteria he had tried to force the boy to open his eyes, restraining
      him while he did so. The damage to that wing of the hospital was
      extensive, though thankfully no-one but the doctor himself had been
      hurt. In the confusion of that incident , while attention was
      focussed on the injured doctor with a crushed arm and on the plaster
      and brickwork raining down around them, the boy disappeared. Very
      little effort was made to find him when it was discovered. Charles
      and Hank had scoured the town, Charles using every ounce of his
      talent to try to locate him. They had widened their search to
      outlying areas and finally caught a break when it was found a
      kid" had hitched a ride with a trucker that evening. The trucker
      found but he had let the boy out at a truck stop hours before and
      didn't know where he had gone from there. In defeat. They had
      returned to Westchester to continue the search with Cerebro. As
      Charles sat in front of the console three weeks later he was mindful
      that time was running out. The boys' thoughts had grown more
      as time passed. Sometimes pain overloaded his senses, sometimes a
      blessed numbness. Overriding it all was a growing sense of cold
      despair. Charles was able to gather that the boy had headed for the
      coast, California. A small coastal town unimportant enough that the
      boy didn't even give it a name. The boy hadn't opened his
      eyes since
      the incident at the hospital, was effectively blind and thus so too
      was Charles Xavier. Without the boys perception of where he was to
      guide him, give him a reference point from which to garner his
      location he was lost in the astral soup of his psychic talent without
      a roadmap. Charles knew only that he had to find Scott Summers before
      it was too late.
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