Thursday evening

[x-avier.livejournal.com]

One of the better-kept secrets of the mansion was that Charles Xavier was a devotee of late-night cookies and milk. Gingerbread, in fact, was a particular favorite of his, and so the evening found him wheeling quietly toward the kitchen, where one of the cookie jars held the fruit of Lorna's labors of the previous night--the last such fruit for quite some time, he thought sadly.

Voices from the kitchen brought him up short, but the feel of the minds within banished all apprehension about revealing his secret snacking habits, and a pleased smile lit his face as he entered the room.

Eyes wide as he stared down at the treasure cradled in two small hands, Miles took a deep breath, inhaling the wonderful amazing smell of the cookie he held. "Lorna make the cookie?" he asked carefully, knowing only too well by now how worried Alison was for her friend.

"Yes sweetie, she did," Alison replied with a small smile, sighing a bit as she pulled out two glasses from the cupboard, more than used to Miles' insistence that people always eat with him if he did by now. "Milk ok?" she asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to get him used to having choices now, every single choice in the world.

"Miles likes milk!" was the fervent reply, and he shifted on the chair, legs curling up underneath him to give him a better view of what Alison was doing. The Professor entering the room drew a startled look from him, and he set the cookie down on his plate carefully, before scrambling down the chair and racing around the table to clap his arms around one of Alison's legs, peering at the Professor carefully - though without fear.

Charles paused in the doorway when Miles moved, then guided his chair carefully forward. "My apologies for the interruption," he said quietly. "May I join you?"

Peeking from behind Alison with bright-eyed curiosity, Miles kept a firm eye on the cookie, and how close the new person was going to it, not too worried about the cookie being stolen, but still. The man didn't look mean... and Alison was smiling at him. That cinched it.

"Hello Professor, not at all," Alison replied with an easy smile, one hand drifting down to pat Miles on the shoulder reassuringly by pure reflex already. "Sorry we didn't come up to see you earlier - we ended up heading down at the medlab as soon as we got here."

Charles sighed. "Yes, I quite understand." He helped himself to a plate, napkin, and glass from the set kept in one of the lower cupboards, and selected a cookie, gazing at it pensively before looking up to meet Miles' curious stare with a slight smile. "And this must be Miles, about whom I've heard so much lately. It's wonderful to meet you at last."

Miles peered up at him carefully, slowly detaching himself from Alison's leg, soothed by the calm conversation both adults were engaging in. Priorities firmly in place he trotted towards the table to fetch his cookie, still cradling it in his hands and just enjoying how good it smelled. The man already had a cookie so no need to share his, and instead, he looked at him pensively, considering, then gave Alison a curious look.

"This is Professor Charles Xavier," Alison answered his question with a small smile, leaning on the counter and showing him her own cookie with a wink.

"Hello Professor Charles Xavier," Miles repeated the name carefully, before blurting out. "Professor Charles Xavier has no hair! Like Miles!"

Charles chuckled, and opened his mouth to answer just as Miles reached the table; his jaw sagged slightly, and his eyebrows shot up in something like awe before he recovered himself. "That's very true--I was bald by the time I was Alison's age, in fact. May I have the milk, please?" He glanced over at Alison wryly. "I see you weren't exaggerating."

Alison grinned, picking up the carton of milk and handing it over with a nod. "We were in a cave when I first found out," she reached down, tugging at Miles's shirt playfully, causing him to squirm and giggle as he tried to dance out of her reach without dropping the precious cookie. Alison picked up her own, taking a firm bite out of it, smiling a bit sadly as only then did Miles take a careful nibble out of his, sighing over the treat happily.

Miles finally stopped squirming, thinking over what the Professor had just said while munching on his cookie, swallowing carefully before speaking again. "But Miles always bald," he stated, leaning on Alison's leg absently before taking another bite of the cookie.

"I've been a telepath for over half a century; even behind shields, human thought is as much a part of my existence as the air that I breathe. This is . . . quite remarkable." He shook his head wonderingly, then offered Miles an encouraging smile. "People can be the same and different all at once--it's one of the most enjoyable things about life, I think. I've always liked gingerbread cookies." He took a bite of his, and washed it down with a sip of milk.

"Miles different," came the sober, near instant reply - although without self-censure, merely the statement of a fact. Followed by the quiet realization that the soft spoken man hadn't even blinked at first seeing him. Just as his power's effect, and that Miles was used to by now. So he smiled back, because it was safe to do that these days, and it was such a nice, simple feeling.

"It's not so drastic for me," Alison remarked, then smiled a bit in remembrance. "Although my hearing and sight change a bit. That was odd, now that I think on it." She smiled down at Miles, who was listening attentively, carefully matching his eating pace with the adults.

"Different on the outside, yes, but not so different on the inside, I think--perhaps just enough to keep life interesting. Imagine how boring it would be if everyone were exactly the same." Charles chuckled. "Which is not, I'm happy to say, a problem we have at this school. I hope you like it here."

With all the common sense typical of small children, Miles looked down at his cookie and then snuck a smile at him. "Miles likes the people here." Because really, that's what made all the difference in any place, after all.

Alison chuckled faintly at his words, reaching for his glass of milk and offering it to him in a silent reminder. A stern look told her he had most certainly not forgotten about his milk of all things, but he took a few gulps obediently, having no valid argument for waiting any longer before drinking.

Charles raised an amused eyebrow at Alison, but contented himself with a quiet "Very becoming." He tipped another cookie onto his plate, balanced the plate on his knees, and smiled at Miles. "I think I'm going to get back to my book now. It was very nice to meet you, Miles; perhaps we will see each other again at breakfast tomorrow."

Catching the implications of those words, Alison gave him a mock scowl which dissolved instantly as Miles handed his glass back to her gravely, watching carefully as she set it back on the table safely. "Good night, Professor," she smiled at him, eyes softening as they flicked to Miles again. "We'll swing by tomorrow to sign the paperwork."

"Miles hopes so too, Professor Charles Xavier," the little boy intoned solemnly, having finished off his cookie and now leaning against Alison again tiredly. He'd had a long first evening, after all.

Charles nodded, a twinkle in his eye, and turned to leave; the back of his chair hid his slight stretch as well-concealed tension eased in his shoulders when he crossed the boundary of Miles' power. He was a fine boy, Charles decided, and it would be nothing but a pleasure to watch him blossom under Alison's care--but the sudden loss of his telepathy had been extremely unnerving; what Erik would do, what another Stryker might do with such a power, was unthinkable. And as he waited for the elevator, Charles made a silent promise, to Miles, to Alison, and to himself.

Miles will be kept safe.