xp_logs | LOG: [Xavier, Haller] Saturday morning

A new staffer arrives to discover the new semester hasn't started off the way anyone would have chosen, but finds welcome none the less.

It was still strange how . . . familiar the place was. It had been over five years since he'd last set foot in the school, and it was clear there had been several renovations since then -- shouldn't the changes have seemed jarring? But the place was forever being damaged and rebuilt, to the point where the alterations themselves seemed like an integral part of the mansion's identity. The thought made him smile.

It was ten o'clock, the time Charles had arranged to see him, but he was still a little uncertain about the meeting. Not that he was nervous of anything Charles might do, but he couldn't help thinking that the man might want a little time to himself. Their meeting had originally been set for Friday evening, but unforeseen circumstances had arisen, and instead the professor had spent the better part of the day attending a funeral.

But it was too late for second thoughts. He was in front of the man's study now, and he knew from experience Charles was well aware of it. So, with only the faintest twinge of trepidation, David Haller raised one hand and rapped gently on the door.

"Come in," was the answer, the timing giving due courtesy to the knock on the door, rather than coming a touch too soon for comfort. As the door opened, the faint sound of China drew the man's attention towards one of the large bay windows of the reading room and the man there, seated comfortably by a low table. "Tea is ready," Charles said gravely, though he was smiling faintly in welcome. "It's good to see you, Jim. It's been a while."

"Too long, professor." Despite his misgivings, Jim's answering smile was wider than any he could remember having in the last month. He shut the door behind him and briefly clasped the man's extended hand in both of his, unable to resist accompanying the contact with a brief brush against the man's mind. #It's good to see you, too, Charles.# He withdrew his hand and seated himself, nodding to the tea. "It's nice to see some things never change."

The mental touch was returned, briefly and kindly so - a reciprocity of sentiment. Reaching for the delicate china teapot, Charles chuckled warmly as he poured a cup for the newest arrival to the mansion. "Ah, but we all need constants in our lives. The one thing that allows us to settle down and find respite, regardless of the events swirling about us, be they within the scope or our control or not." He tilted his head to the side, eyebrow quirking slightly. "More often than not, sometimes it seems." And smiled. "Though you'll discover that here, it's mostly about chaos. The sort only adolescents can achieve in record time."

Jim accepted the tea, and smiled around the lip of the cup. "At least I'm not looking at a difficult transition. It'll be nice to be around chaos of the more normal variety, though. Despite the oxymoronic implications of the phrasing." He shook his head slightly, setting the teacup against its saucer. "I could . . . I hate to say it, but after touring the sanatoriums of the UK I could do with a change. For a little while, at least."

"I can imagine you would," Charles said after a moment's silence, only sympathy showing in his eyes and just as easy to pick up from his loosely shielded mind as well. He then smiled in wry amusement. "Though I should warn you right now that Lorna's traditional greeting might serve to ruin that sentiment slightly." He straightened up and took a sip of his tea, then granted Jim a solemn look. "It is her considered opinion that we're all quite mad."

Jim chuckled. "Even if it turns out she's right, there are degrees. If only sixty percent of the residents have at least a passing acquaintance with reality, it'll be a step up." He swirled the liquid in his teacup, watching the herbal sediment dance with mismatched eyes. He returned his gaze to the older man, a little hesitant. "You've already told the staff, right? They're okay with this arrangement?"

"Indeed I have, and I gave them time to think it over before accepting their thoughts on the matter." The corner of Charles' eyes wrinkled a bit as he smiled briefly, fondness settling in his gaze at the mention of the people who had been living at the mansion, in his home - some for years now, some for months. All had a say in the matter. "Scott offered to give you the grand tour, once you're settled in and have decided you wish to be able to wander about in an informed way."

Jim laughed. "I noticed the new additions. A refresher-tour's probably not a bad idea anyway." He felt better now they'd gotten the subject of the staff out of the way. Contact had been sporadic over the last few years, but five minutes back in Charles' study with a cup of tea in his hand and three years might as well have been three days. There was something almost restful about the familiar, barely perceptible current of Charles' mind. It had been a long time since Jim's telepathy had been used in anything other than a professional capacity. He couldn't remember when he'd last gotten a read from a mind that hadn't left him feeling somehow raw. Not from another psi. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it.

"I'm glad I came," Jim said, resisting the urge to convey the admission telepathically. "I almost didn't. I was still having second-thoughts on the flight over, but now that I'm here . . ." He gave an apologetic smile and shrugged. "I don't know if this will work out, but I'm not as worried anymore. The worst part's already over. I'm ready to work again."

Charles' own sentiments on Jim's arrival, unlike the young man's, were easily perceived, coloring the atmosphere around them a touch more brightly, for a moment. "You are always welcome in my home, Jim." The statement was simply made, and left at that.

"As for the rest, the worst as you say is indeed over. And now we get down to business, as it were." Glancing out the window and into the winter beyond, Charles smiled at the sight of a snowball fight in progress further along down the grounds. "You still wish to continue with your studies, which has been cleared through the proper channels, to ensure you get your degree when we're done." He was looking back at Jim, had been since he'd started to talk. "And in the meantime, we do happen to have a counselor position currently open..."

The touch of playfulness in the man's suggestion made him laugh. "So you said. It's close enough to my area . . ." He followed Charles' gaze to the window, his attention momentarily focused on the barrage of white beyond the glass. He rubbed his hands, the left across the old scars on the right.

"I can handle that," he said at last, turning back to Charles. "Professionally, at least."

"The rest will come in due time." There was no hurry about Charles as he refreshed Jim's tea cup, his every move and even every thought seeming to indicate they had all the time in the world. "And until then, I will make certain to keep my stores of tea refreshed," he added, before leaning forward conspiratorially. "I sometimes fondly hope that if nothing else, the tea will prove to indeed be the universal cure to all ills, someday."

"I think it's too preoccupied counterbalancing the global threat posed by Moira's coffee, but who knows what would happen if it were ever allowed to stand unopposed?" Jim grinned. "All those sessions in my brain I thought the tea was just an astral prop. Youthful ignorance. It was calming, though."

"Ah. One might almost think you'd heard about Alison's theory on Moira's coffee," was the amused reply, Charles indulging in some of the tea himself, before setting his cup down lightly. "Mmm." A moment of companiable silence passed, before Charles spoke once more. "Might I ask if you've seen Davey lately, perchance?"

"Not really. Too much traveling, and he doesn't like strange places." Jim sighed. "Can't really blame him. I don't regret it, but all that moving around . . . nowhere I stayed felt permanent. I just couldn't get settled knowing I was going to leave again." He shook his head, shrugging off the memory, and smiled. "I'm pretty sure he'll be okay with the school. I haven't heard from the others lately, either. Not even when I decided to come back. I'm almost starting to believe they finally took the hint."

"Well, if any news of them ever does emerge," Charles murmured, reaching out to rest one hand over Jim's lightly, patting it before withdrawing once more, "I should like to think this is the best place for you to be."

"It . . . it always has been." Something about the simple human contact affected him deeply -- more deeply than he'd expected. He was used to being touched in anger, or desperation, or thanks, and the surge of emotion brought by that single gesture of support caught him unprepared. Suddenly all the stress that seemed to have been living in his chest for the past six months broke out of him in a rush, and Jim had to pull his hands away from the cup and into his lap for fear the shaking would damage the china.

#I'm sorry,# he sent, wiping at his eyes with one hand. #Don't -- I don't know what's wrong with me.#

#There are things, Jim, which you never need to apologize for.# An undercurrent of emotions swirled along the tendril of thought, most of them calm and supportive. #This would be one of them.#

The support remained, quietly so, though Charles glanced out the window again, giving Jim a moment's quiet to simply collect himself, the calm about him clearly indicating that the passage of time truly wasn't a consideration.

For a few moments Jim allowed himself to be soothed by the gentle flow of Charles' thoughts, feeling a dull pang of nostalgia. He tried to tell himself he was supposed to be past all this, but he was too honest to pretend the childish gratitude he felt was just a consequence of jetlag. Who was he trying to fool, Charles? Charles already knew, and did not judge.

Slowly, very slowly, Jim calmed. Once he felt he could trust himself to speak again he said, "I . . . thank you, professor. I'm just tired." He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing Charles would understand he didn't mean this in the physical sense. "It's just . . . the last few months, seeing all those children, never getting comfortable . . ." wandering around Britain like a stray dog, becoming more and more aware of his ignorance while an increasing sense of something like desperation built in the pit of his stomach "I couldn't -- somehow I just couldn't seem to rest. Nowhere felt right." Nowhere felt like home.

"Well." Charles smiled warmly. "We'll be doing out best to keep you here ourselves, and as such it behooves me to say that it would be very well seen if you were to take a little time to settle in and rest up, before tackling the very daunting task of deciphering the adolescent mind."

Jim laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, it probably wouldn't inspire much confidence to see the new counselor acting like a nervous wreck. Even if it's common knowledge most doctors specialize in their area of personal crisis." The unexpected rush of emotion had left him drained, but calm now. He rubbed his eyes, this time out of a sense of fatigue. Jim glanced again toward the window, noting the shadows streaked beneath one blue eye and one brown in the reflection that overlay the flagging snow-war outside. The decision to return to the school had cost him more sleep over the past week than he'd realized.

"I'm not much good for anything today," Jim said, turning back to Charles. "I'll rest, put some things in order, stay out of the way for the time being." Give the staff a chance to recover from the funeral. "But I . . . it's good to be back, professor."

"I daresay you can take more than just a day, mmm?" With a pointed look, Charles made sure he received a nod in return, before leaning back once more. "And it is good to have you back, Jim. It is very good to have you back."

The tone of his voice held both suggestion and permission -- the sort of gentle dismissal that was Charles' habit. Jim rose, brushing his teacher's mind once more as he did, and for a moment his obvious fatigue was eclipsed by a smile that carried every bit as much warmth as what he'd conveyed through telepathy. Then, with a parting nod, the professor's former patient withdrew the contact and let himself out.

The door closed behind Jim and Charles picked up his tea cup, staring into the myriad reflections mirrored in the wavering liquid within. "And you too, David. You as well, child."