Fic : Hope 1/4 (sequel to beginnings)
- Title : Hope
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. The world is not
mine. They belong to the people who created them and no copyright
infringement is intended. I'm just borrowing them for a while. (God
that's the hardest thing I've ever had to say.)
Rating: This part is pretty much PG, but it does deal with the
aftermath of suicide and the occasional swear word may slip in. I've
warned you so I don't feel obliged to alter the rating if I get
carried away while writing.
Feedback is definitely appreciated. Any constructive criticism of
what I'm putting the characters through would also be welcomed
(ideas, suggestions, technical errors).
Archive :List archive, power of Cyclops if wanted and anyone else
I've already said yes to for any of my stories. Newbies are welcome
but please ask and let me know where its going (`cos it's a good way
of finding new sites for me to visit!).
Notes : This is a "sequel" of sorts to `Beginnings', in that it will
(hopefully) form part of an ongoing series. It will not make much
sense unless you have read `Beginnings'. This part is essentially
nothing more than an extended conversation between Scott and Charles
following some pretty traumatic events. It's movieverse and deals
with Scott's arrival in Westchester.
Charles sat in the darkened room, waiting. The figure on the bed
hadn't stirred since his arrival that morning. Hank had announced
that he would make a full recovery before disappearing into his lab,
eager to leave the first few tentative steps following the boys'
awakening to Charles himself. A full recovery in body at least
Charles chided himself. His mental state upon awakening occupied his
thoughts now. They had done all they could for the body now the
mind must be saved from the oblivion it mistakenly sought. Three
weeks of waiting, patiently searching, seemed forever ago here in
this room. He watched the rise and fall of the boys chest and
listened intently to the slumbering mind for signs of waking. His
eyes were drawn to the bandage on his arm. Thank god he only managed
the one cut for that had done damage enough. Hanks' emergency
treatment at the scene had been supplemented upon his return to
Westchester with a more cosmetic repair to the damaged flesh. Tendon
and muscle had miraculously escaped permanent harm. The boy would
always bear some faints scars from his ordeal though. If he chose to
live that is.
Charles would not, could not, impose that choice upon his guest.
Hank had argued fiercely with him on that point. Wanted Charles to
use his gift to prevent the boy attempting to repeat the harm he had
done, to impose some kind of mental command or wash away the pain
that had driven him to his actions in the first place. It could be
done of course but he would not. What good would that do. If the boy
ever found out what he had done he would never be forgiven, trusted.
And what would that actually solve. He had the survived the crucible
of his early years and he had the right to see what kind of man was
forged from that trial. Some good had to come of the pain he had
endured for surely it must make him stronger, more understanding. In
any event he must be allowed to choose in something this fundamental.
Life or death was not Charles' to give or take.
Since the boy had arrived he had been in constant contact with his
mind. Not intrusive but like a gentle wave lapping over the surface
thoughts and emotions still present even under sedation. He knew,
without trying to probe deeply, that the boy was a deeply private
individual, guarded in his emotions. Given the life he had even
before his mutation became apparent it was not surprising to find
such an emotional shield. Interference or intrusion would not be
appreciated however he may justify it as in the boys best interests.
The images and thoughts floating randomly about the surface were
enough for now. They formed a complex jigsaw puzzle that gave Charles
a working picture of who the boy was, what drove him and what
potential lay within. That potential was the key. Despite the
circumstances of his arrival, despite Charles own feelings of guilt
at not having been able to be there for the boy from the onset of his
mutation, he felt joy. Here was a mind that was truly worth saving.
Beneath the pain and the desperation that the boy now felt, beneath
the fear and uncertainty about his future, was a core of strength and
compassion. If Charles could just draw on the strength within the boy
that fed his endurance and show him that he still had choices left to
him there was hope for his salvation.