the courier arrives

[x-courier.livejournal.com]

this takes place at about 19:00 Friday



Jake stepped out of the taxi and pulled the strap of his bag firmer onto his shoulder. He regarded the mansion and the falling snow unhappily. So this was were Charles Xavier, professor and currently Jake's nemesis, lived. With a a couple of baker's dozen worth of followers. Yes, this would definitely work out easy as pie. Jake shook his head, dark hair getting tangled in the bag's strap, and walked up to the door to ring the bell. All right, he was going to kill his dad for making him spend Thanksgiving in Sudan. Airplane chicken really wasn't a good substitute for a good Thanksgiving dinner.

Charles opened the door almost immediately after the doorbell fell silent, and offered the newcomer a quiet, welcoming smile. "Mr. Gavin, I presume? Or do you prefer 'Ms.'?"

"Mister. Please." Jake tried to juggle the bag and the iBook onto one arm so he could shake the professor's hand. After some struggling, he gave up. "Hi."

"A pleasure to meet you. Please come in." Charles maneuvered his chair out of the way. "We can talk further in my study. I must admit, I'm mystified as to how I could have caused your, ah, condition."

"Well, honestly, I'm not sure I understand it myself." Jake followed Charles down the hallway, slowing down when he disovered he'd actually walked past Charles and was on his way somewhere Charles obviously had no intention of going. He sighed and walked back. "I'm sorry. I'm a bit edgy. I haven't slept in two days and I've been a little. Out of it ever since this happened." He waved his iBook vaguely in the direction of his breasts.

"That's perfectly all right. I doubt I would have done much better, in your place. Please, sit down--may I offer you coffee, or tea? And would I be safe in assuming you've been in this condition for some time now?"

"Coffee would be great." Jake smiled and sat down, placing his bag by the chair and the iBook in his lap. "Oh, yes, I have. Going on. I think seven months now. Since you did your little thing..." he waved his hand vaguely again, this time towards Charles. "With the weird machine."

Charles poured two mugs, handing one to Jake before staring into the other one, a pained expression on his face. "I was neither in control of myself nor, strictly speaking, fully conscious during that . . . episode . . . as I implied in my e-mail. Still, I take responsibility for my actions; if it is within my power to help you, I will do so. I am curious as to how you learned of those events."

Jake sipped the coffee with a blissfull expression. "This is great stuff." He blinked and looked up. "The weird machine incident?"

"I'm quite fond of this blend myself. And, yes. 'The Day of the Headache This Big,' as one of my students has taken to calling it. Incomplete information or not, your sources must be excellent."

"Oh they are." Jake paused. "Slow working, maybe, but excellent. You probably realise I'm not going to tell you who my sources are... Yeah. They tracked you down through William Stryker, after what I understand. I had to cash in a hell of a lot of favours to get this far, though."

"Mm. Did they mention that Stryker had me kidnapped, drugged, and brainwashed?" Charles' voice was steady, but his hands on his coffee mug were trembling almost imperceptibly. "As I say, I will give you all the help I can, but I quite literally do not know what I did to you."

Jake gave him a startled look and lowered the coffeecup. "They... didn't, actually." He tilted his head, taking in Charles's appearence for the first time. "I'm sorry. This isn't a good conversation for you to be having, is it? I'm usually more perceptive than this, I swear." He breathed out heavily and focused. "I'm a mutant. I'm saying this because if you have any bioscanners, they won't have picked up on it, and I'm not clear on how your telepathy works, if you can tell. I'm... well, the short version is; I'm a shapeshifter. The long version; I have a photoreflexive malleable genetic imprint which gives me absolute control over every cell in my body. However, during the... incident... I blacked out, and when I came to myself again, I was like this. I've been trying to change back, but..." Jake shook his head. "It's not been working, obviously."

"That's all right; I just recently told my students the entire story, so I'm afraid it's been closer to the surface than usual." Charles took a sip of his coffee. "That's a very interesting mutation. I've encountered shapeshifters before; one of my students is a form-specific metamorph, a werewolf. You may fall further toward the other end of that particular spectrum than anyone I'm familiar with, however. What do you consider your 'true' form, if you have one?"

"Well, not this one, since I'm trying to get rid of it..." Jake said wryly. "I have a male form which I used to revert to automatically. I liked that shape," he added sadly, looking down into his coffee again.

"But you think of it as just a shape, rather than your 'self?'"

Jake shook his head. "No, look, it's hard to explain... Do you have, I don't know, a place, maybe, where you can relax completely and just be? It's a bit like that."

"And now, when you relax completely . . . here you are?"

Jake nodded.

"Interesting. I don't think we'll find there's a physiological reason for this, although it's too early to eliminate that possibility entirely. The problem almost sounds psychosomatic."

Jake narrowed his eyes. "The problem's in my head? Yes, incredibly enough, after seven months I've come to the same conclusion. Why do you think I'm--" He broke off and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. Again. Look, is there some place I could catch up on sleep? I slept some on the plane, but then dad figured out where I was, and... You don't need to hear this."

"Yes, of course." Charles put his coffee down, looking apologetic. "I'm very sorry, I should have offered you a bed immediately. I believe . . . yes, Suite 310 is still unoccupied; on the third floor, across from the stairs and to your left. I can show you up, if you like, and we can continue this discussion when you've recovered from your journey."

"Yeah, thanks. That'd be excellent." Jake put his cup down on the desk and rose, grabbing his bag. "By the way, how many are there here? My people said 30, but that was obviously a great, big lie."

Charles turned his chair and opened the door, holding it for Jake. "Merely out-of-date; we've attracted a number of new students this year. I believe there are currently around fifty people in residence, staff and students." He smiled. "They can be a trial, but I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jake gave him a doubting look. "Right. As I understand it they're all mutants? That must be... interesting."

"It presents, shall we say, unique challenges, but also--for me, at least--unique rewards. They're very . . . spirited." Charles indicated the stairs as they passed, but stopped instead at an elevator whose doors matched the carved wood paneling of the hallway. "Not much different from normal teenagers, in many ways."

Jake inclined his head. "Right. Like I said, must be interesting. Nice elevator, by the way."

"I had them put in after my accident, from necessity, but as the house is over a century old, I did my best to keep them unobtrusive." The doors opened, and Charles ushered Jake out, showing him to a well-appointed if fairly spartanly decorated suite. "My rooms are just around the corner, should you need anything; otherwise, come to my office tomorrow when you feel you're ready to begin."

"That's where we just came from right? Yeah. Okay, thanks." Jake looked around for a place to put down his bag and iBook, ending up with placing them both on a chair. He turned, smiling tiredly at Charles. "You're really not what I had expected."

Charles smiled in return. "Considering the circumstances of your first impression, I'll take that as a compliment. Sleep well, Mr. Gavin."

"Oh, it was. I'll see you in... the evening?" Jake glanced down at his watch in confusion. "What time is it?"

"Nearly half-past seven. Come by whenever you wake up; I believe almost everyone else has plans to enjoy the weather tomorrow."

"Will do." Jake stood by the door until Charles was gone, then stumbled over to the bed and fell face down on it, falling asleep seconds later.

Comments

[x-psylocke.livejournal.com]

Never trust a man with a MacIntosh. It is unnatural.

[x-courier.livejournal.com]

Hey!

*grins*