FIC: An Unexpected Visitor, (NC-17) 24/?
- Look for story information in part 1.
The morning after the disaster Mystique caused in the med-lab,
Charles Xavier sat in his office, thinking about what should be done
He had heard that Mystique was safely locked inside a hospital
cell, but he had not tried talking to her or contacting her
telepathically. He was the one she was the most angry with, so it was
probably not a very good idea.
He didn't try to work, but simply sat there, resting his chin in
his hands, staring before him with tired eyes. He had not slept at
all last night, nor had Erik.
Suddenly there was a knock at his door. Charles winced, but quickly
pulled himself together.
- Come in, he said, straightening himself.
It was doctor Lecter. He slid in quickly and closed the door behind
him. His dark eyes met Xavier's when he turned around.
Charles couldn't help it, but he became frightened. Lecter had been
scaring him from the first moment he saw him, and he still did.
Charles swallowed. What could he possibly want?
- Doctor Lecter? he said and tried to make his voice sound steady.
- I want to speak with you, said doctor Lecter.
- I am leaving today, and I think we have some things to sort out
before we part.
Charles cleared his throat. - Oh? What are you talking about now?
- You dislike me, the doctor said straight out.
- Doctor Lecter, I...-
Hannibal silenced him with an elegant motion of his hand.
- I don't read minds, not the way you do, but I do notice certain
things. Don't lie to me, please. It is only embarrassing and
- What was it that you wanted to discuss? Charles asked.
- Have you read my mind, Charles? asked doctor Lecter.
- No, Charles said. Never.
- Would you like to?
- Not even if I asked you?
Charles frowned confusedly. - What?
- If I asked you to read my mind. Would you do it then?
- Why on the earth do you want me to...
- Whatever you think about me, your picture is defective, said
Hannibal. Give me a chance to correct it before I leave. I think you
owe me that, Charles.
- I don't understand.
- I could tell you, but that would take too much time, and probably
you wouldn't believe what I said. It will be easier if you read my
mind. Can you do that?
Charles opened his mouth to object. Hannibal Lecter's gaze was
intense and demanding. Charles' fear grew. The man was crazy, after
all. A civilized maniac, perhaps, but still a maniac.
- Okay. But what will I see? he asked.
- You will see the truth, and nothing more, replied the doctor.
He started walking toward Charles' desk, and Charles had to make
efforts not to pull away from him as he advanced.
- I have to touch you, Charles explained. You have to come here.
Doctor Lecter came and kneeled in front of Charles' wheelchair and
simultaneously looked into his eyes. Charles' hands trembled when he
cupped Lecter's head in them, and he knew that the doctor probably
felt it, but he didn't care.
He knows that I am afraid of him anyway, he thought. There is no
use pretending I am not.
- Try to relax, he told doctor Lecter, although he could tell that
the doctor was as calm as he could be. It was rather Charles himself
who needed to relax.
- It won't hurt, but it might feel a little strange, he added.
- Go ahead. My mind is open, Hannibal replied.
Charles closed his eyes and started to focus. His hold of Lecter's
head hardened instinctively when he created the telepathic contact
and allowed himself to look into Lecter's mind and see what really
went on in there, for the fist time during his stay here.
The thought fascinated him, but simultaneously it frightened him
What he saw, overwhelmed Charles.
Hannibal Lecter let his memory palace stay open to Charles, and
gave him the freedom to look into every room, where he stored all his
memories - horrid, pleasant and sad - in detail. All he ever had gone
through, he kept there, somewhere, and if one just knew where to
look, one could find it.
Charles skimmed through Lecter's life, and saw it like a series of
photos spread over a table.
He saw Misja, the doctor's sister, Clarice Starling, the only
person he had ever really loved, except for his sister, and much,
The man's infinite supply of memories shook Charles. He had never
before encountered anyone who could keep a record like that inside
his head, only using his memory.
After a while Charles broke the connection and felt the sweat break
out on his forehead. He opened his eyes, and found out that he was
- How are you doing that? he whispered to Lecter.
- I do not know, the man replied seriously. I have always done it.
I actually don't know how. I just...can.
- You are not a mutant. What are you?
- I don't know, the doctor replied again, in a low voice, and he
was speaking the truth. Some kind of freak, I guess. I have been told
that all my life, but I do not know what I am. If I knew, I would
tell you, Charles. Trust me.
He let out a seep sigh and leaned his pallid head with that dark
hair against Xavier's knees.
Charles was still holding his hands around his head.
- How old are you? he asked carefully.
- I was born on August 13, 1939.
- Are you sure about that?
- It says so in my birth certificate.
- You don't look that old.
- I know.
- You are too strong for your age, too.
- I keep myself fit, that is all.
- All the evidence indicate that you are a mutant, but in case you
were, your brainwaves would tell, Charles said. Your gifts seem to be
a photographic memory, empathy, and accelerated cellular
regeneration. Like Wolverine. You are not as extreme as he is, but...
You can remember everything you ever see or hear, can't you?
- If I want to remember it, then yes, replied doctor Lecter.
- It is amazing.
Lecter didn't reply.
- Where are you going now? asked Charles.
- We'll see.
- You can stay here. I have plenty of room. And we could need
someone with your power.
Doctor Lecter sighed. - No, I cannot, he said calmly. I only wanted
you to know.
- Thank you, I appreciate that. If you were to change your mind,
you can just tell me. Anytime
- I don't think so. But thank you anyway.