Private Email to Professor Charles Xavier

[x-dazzler.livejournal.com]

Private email to Professor Charles Xavier

From: Blaire, Alison
To: Xavier, Charles
Subject: ... how do you know?

Hey there Professor. I don't have much more time before we have to haul off into the swamps again, and I'm alone doing the reports here. I guess this means I'm the only one of the local team here who also knows about what happened to Betsy.

...

How do you know? I mean, if you're doing the right thing in not telling something important to someone, because there's something else equally important going on, and they can't afford to be distracted by anything, while in the field? Because... and I may not get your answer before I have to go, but - I'm not telling the team. About Betsy and what the kids did. And I'm scared about telling them only on the way back, and scared they'll take it badly that I kept this from them, but there's nothing anyone here can do right now, and I'm more scared someone might get hurt, from worrying over things...

Eh, that's it. And I guess, thanks for listening, no matter how things turn out.

And... inasmuch as you can, sir... please bring my friend back home, safe?

Thank you.
Al

Comments

[x-avier.livejournal.com]

From: Xavier, Charles
To: Blaire, Alison
Subject: Re: ... how do you know?

I realize that you won't see this until you have--happily, I hope--concluded the mission, but I felt it deserved--required--a reply.

Unfortunately, I doubt it will be a reassuring one; if I knew the universal right answer to that question, we might not have to ask it in the first place. To this, and to so many other questions, I can only answer that we do the best we can, and take the consequences as they occur.

. . . I spent most of this past summer re-engineering Cerebro so that it, and I, could no longer be used as a weapon. I considered it my private penance for what Stryker, and Erik, nearly made me do, and so chose not to explain my absences. It seemed the only right choice at the time . . . and yet my involvement with the students, especially the newer arrivals, has suffered greatly, which I think has led in part to the current situation. The unknown is seldom trusted, and I have been too much unknown.

We are not--or perhaps I should say "not yet"--gifted with the ability to see the outcomes of our choices before we make them; we must instead rely each on our own judgment, and thus sometimes fall into error. For what it's worth, Alison, I believe you made the right choice in this, and I think the others will understand.

Would that my own errors were so easily forgiven.

Betsy's life, and health, and safety are not mine to promise, and so I cannot. But I will do what is given to me to do; if that is enough, and if hope does not fail, then she may be waiting for your return. I wish I could offer you more.

Be safe.

Charles