Doug and the Professor

[x-cypher.livejournal.com]

Doug comes to visit the mansion and have a game of chess with Professor Xavier. In the process they discuss the events of the couple previous weeks.



As much as Doug enjoyed his job at the Snow Valley Memorial Center, and the somewhat mind-boggling sense that he was turning into an adult, he liked returning to the mansion every so often. It felt...he supposed homey was the best word, even though his home and family were in Colorado. The mansion had come to feel just as much like home to him.

Doug's visits to the mansion served many purposes. Sometimes he would visit friends still in residence. Also, with students like Sooraya and Yvette who were struggling to learn English, Doug tried to make himself available as a tutor, translator, and someone able to converse in their native tongue.

And last but not least, the continuation of his chess games with Professor Xavier.

Tapping softly at the doorjamb of the professor's study, Doug peeked his head in and grinned when he saw the chessboard already set up and waiting.

Charles looked up and smiled, wheeling his chair over to the board, a pair of teacups already steaming on a small side table. "Douglas, always a pleasure. Given the rather turbulent events internationally this week, I admit that I was rather looking forward to this, despite our matches growing more infrequent as of late." The Professor's voice held no chastisement, but rather a genuine sense of camaraderie and relief that had developed over the three years that Doug had lived at the mansion, and had continued even after his move into the New York brownstone.

Doug seated himself as the Professor made his way to the table. Warming his hands briefly over the steam from his teacup, he could practically feel himself relaxing. Chess and tea with the professor was therapeutic and revitalizing in a way that the mandated counseling with Sofia was not. That wasn't to imply that Sofia was at all incompetent, merely that the casual nature of the chess games tended to be more relaxing.

"You weren't the only one, and there was some turbulence in the States as well," Doug replied as he gathered two pawns into his hands. He thought back to the events in Tennessee, and how they had affected everyone there. They had certainly had an effect on him, and definitely had him looking forward to chess with the professor as a way to talk through some of his feelings.

Charles nodded, tapping Doug's left hand and giving a wry grin at the white pawn revealed. He arranged himself behind his pieces, hand reaching for his tea. "Tragic events, I gather," Charles remarked as he moved one pawn forward. "One does not need to be a telepath to realize that you are carrying a significant burden."

Doug's grin was a touch wolfish where the professor's was wry. By this point, both he and the professor knew that he vastly preferred to play black. Playing second allowed him to react to his opponent, lying in wait and attempting to discern the pattern of moves and draw the other player into a trap.

As he advanced a pawn in response, Doug's expression turned pensive. "I think we all are," he admitted. "I doubt any of us were untouched by what happened there."

"In both psychology and forensics," Charles mused, hand hovering over his pieces, "there is a theory of 'transference'. The idea that one cannot interact with an object without leaving something of yourself behind, and taking something of it with you. In many of the situations we find ourselves in, being who and what we are, the same is unavoidable. It is a constant internal struggle, to attempt to change the world but not be changed too greatly by it."

Brow furrowed in concentration, Charles moved another piece forward cautiously, watching for Doug's reaction, less for the chess game and more for his former student's own thought processes.

Doug moved an answering piece almost by rote, his mind much more occupied in digesting the professor's words. He looked out the window for a long moment, face furrowed in concentration.

"I don't think Angie's been sleeping much," he said after a while. "Amanda didn't say a lot before she left for Berlin, but I caught her staring at this drawing of her and Charlie when she thought I wasn't looking. And we practically had to pour Mark into the plane for the flight back." Talking about his coworkers' reactions gave him time to marshal his own fractious thoughts.

Xavier nodded quietly, sliding a bishop from his back rank to capture one of Doug's pieces. He recognized the Doug's mannerisms, ensuring the welfare of his friends before his own in the hopes that by solving their problems, his own would vanish. He recalled years before, another promising young student in the same situation, and the thought brought a small smile to his lips.

"In the end," he said quietly, "do you feel the work you are doing is worthwhile?"

Doug's eyes raised from the board. He suspected that the professor would win the game just from the early capture, but their games were only marginally about chess. "Yes," he answered without hesitation. "It's just..." he paused, trying to find the right words to express himself. He moved a knight to threaten the bishop.

"The consequences." Charles nodded. This was a talk he knew all too well. "When I chose to form the X-Men," he said as he turned his attention from the board to Doug, "I did so with the realization that with all the good we could do, we would inevitably bear the burden of the choices we must make in the pursuit of that good. It would be overly naive to assume anyone would be able to accomplish what we do and bear no scars, but it would also be fatalistic to presume that those scars are all we carry away."

He sighed, even as he glanced back to the board, sliding a knight into position behind his bishop. "We learn to find the joy in what we do, and find our ways to make it greater than the occasional guilt we bear from the methods we must sometimes use."

"I wish we could have done more," Doug said quietly as he placed a bishop to reinforce his line of attack. "I remember looking at him and thinking 'there but for the grace of God go I'." He ran a hand through his hair. "For most of America, Columbine is just a place where something terrible happened." His eyes lost focus, seeing newscasts he hadn't fully understand when he had first seen them. "We played Columbine for homecoming."

Charles appeared lost in thought for a moment, a look of sadness crossing his face. "It would be very easy," he finally said with a shake of his head, "to believe that because the darkness in the world is so great, that the world itself is solely darkness punctuated by these brief candles giving what light they can before they burn out. But I hold to the belief that this is not true, that this world is revealed for the beauty it is when those lights dare to push back the darkness, even for a small while."

Sliding a pawn up a square, Charles met Doug's eyes with a knowing nod. "Many times you will wonder if the ends justify the means, or if doing the greater good is merely a matter of choosing the lesser evil. I believe, Douglas, that you are a young man with an amazing gift. A gift that you have chosen to use in the service of others, for that greater good. And the results of that greater good may not always be apparent. And there, we must have faith."

"It's not always easy to have faith," Doug said hesitantly as he began the messy exchange that would wind up clearing a good chunk of the board. He thought of the messy exchange that the Warwolves had required to save the world. "I can't help but think we could have somehow saved him. He wasn't evil, he just made one bad choice. And he died for it."

"We are not saints," Charles stated firmly. "We cannot save everyone, or change the world in a day. We do the best we can, with the gifts we have been given and the desire in our hearts."

With one finger, Charles slid a rook up the board, away from where the majority of the white and black pieces stood in detente. "Check."