LOG: [Charles, Haller] Cycles

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Not involved in the training and in a school without students, Haller pays Charles a visit.


Charles had been notably absent from both this morning's and this evening's team meetings. Not that he ever truly made a habit of attending such meetings, but few of the X-Men remaining in the mansion had seen him since Val Cooper's initial arrival. He had spent the bulk of his time in his office, supposedly having various telephone conversations related to the matter at hand.

There was only so many hours that could cover, however.

The knock was soft, polite, and perfunctory. Tray balanced in one hand, a long, angular frame shouldered open the heavy wooden door.

"Sorry," Jim said, "but no one's really sure how often you're eating, so I went with the more likely option and brought dinner."

The smile he got in return was abstracted, almost as perfunctory as the knock. Charles wasn't on the phone, and in fact, didn't appear to be doing anything, unless you counted staring pensively into space. "That's very thoughtful of you. Thank you."

"Don't worry about it." Jim set the tray down on the desk between them and slid it towards Charles. It was basic; a sandwich, with some fruit salad Lorna had made at some point to keep it company. After giving up on trying to figure out what the professor would eat, he'd settled for rounding to what was theoretically acceptable to a standard human being.

"They're doing pretty well," Jim said into the silence. "With the training, I mean. I think we'll be okay."

The Professor didn't answer, for long enough that had the person asking been one of the kids, they might have made a joking comment about wondering whose mind he was visiting, since his was clearly elsewhere. "I've been watching the training, very closely," he finally said calmly. Almost absently. "Sometimes it helps to remember how competent and determined the team truly is." It sounded as if the jury was out on whether this was one of those times.

As he watched the professor's closed face, Jim realized they could do this dance for hours. One of Charles' oldest friends had a seized control of a powerful weapon positioned in such a way every country on earth was a target just waiting to be selected. Potentially hundreds of thousands of lives were at risk, including those of the team, and at the top of it all were Gabrielle's words to him, flying back from Dagestan.

"That he has descended into this madman is . . ."

Charles was still sitting across from him, hands folded over his desk, the tray untouched. Jim, finally, asked the obvious question.

"Sir, are you all right?"

Charles gave a slight start, as if the question had been unexpected. "I've had... too much time to reflect, perhaps, since the students are safely away," he finally said, meeting Jim's eyes. The weariness in that usually calm gaze would have been startling, if any of them had slept last night. "It's been too easy to keep myself occupied, speaking to people in our government, and those in Russia..." He smiled very faintly. "You would think, wouldn't you, that after Alkali Lake and San Diego, I would find it easier to face this?"

"I don't think 'hijacking a space laser' crosses anyone's mind when they run worst-case scenarios." Jim rubbed the back of his head, raising his hair in stiff black bristles. He couldn't believe the presumption of what he was about to say, but he felt someone had to.

"There's a time and a place for compartmentalization," Jim began carefully, "and I know there's stuff that needs to get done, but I'm worried about whether you're giving yourself time to process."

This is us, giving advice to my former therapist.

"I know you can't not think about possible consequences, but you know it's dangerous to deprioritize yourself for too long, or leave yourself with no outlet."

This is us, giving advice to one of earth's top telepaths, David's biological father.

Jim's hands fumbled for something to do. There was nothing. They slowed, and finally stilled at his sides. "I guess what I'm saying is I know you feel like you have to work, but have you taken any time off to just . . . catch up?"

Being an adult is fucked up.

Charles didn't answer for a long, long moment. "If I were to stop," he said finally, his voice very soft, "I fear I'd be overwhelmed, Jim. The similarities to Alkali Lake..." He didn't elaborate, but he didn't need to. The Russian government had done almost exactly the same thing thatStryker had. They had gone after one of the most dangerous men on the planet, lashed out at him, hurt him - and then handed him everything he needed to destroy them and countless innocents.

Abruptly, he rolled his wheelchair back from the desk, moving over to the window. The October sky was a perfect, gleaming blue, a sharp contrast to the autumnal colors of the leaves. "I've tried to find his mind, since the news came. It's closed to me, of course."

"If he wants to talk he'll initiate it himself, I guess." Jim hesitated, then moved to join Charles at the window. The telepathic ambiance between the two men was nil. Charles was never forthcoming, but there were times he was less guarded. This wasn't one of them. His mind was as closed to Jim as Magneto's was to Charles.

"Would it be better if you could talk to him?" Jim asked, stopping a little to the side of the wheelchair. "Do you think anything you could say would make him change his mind?"

Charles sighed, and there was so much exhaustion in the sound it was almost painful. "No," he said, and sounded as if he'd had to steel himself to make that admission. "I see so much hope in this situation, Jim. Not just here with the team, but in those other discussions I mentioned. But none of that hope can help Erik. I wonder sometimes if he even sees this cycle of his, victim tovictimizer to victim, over and over again..."

"You don't think about why you do anything when you're that hurt and that angry. You're trying to keep your head above water. If you stop, you drown. And you keep going until you finally do something you can't turn away from anymore." Suddenly tired, Jim moved forward to lean against the frame of the window. He rested his forehead against his forearm, eyes flooded brown fixed on the grounds below. "If you're lucky, I guess, you learn before you die for it."

Charles looked up at him, and for a moment, his mind wasn't closed, but reaching out to Jim's - just a brief touch, as if to comfort. It was enough to let Jim see the true depth of the fatigue and the helpless sadness that the walls had been concealing.

"He could have been great," Charles murmured, almost inaudibly, as he looked away. "A great scientist, a great teacher, a great leader. Instead, I'm asking those who should be putting their own great gifts to use as scientists and teachers and leaders to risk their lives to stop him. There is no way in which this doesn't end in loss, Jim."

Jim was silent for a long moment. "Maybe," he conceded at last. "But you used to tell us that there was no use dwelling on what you could or should have done, or the way things could or should have been. What we have to deal with is things as they are right now. That's all." The younger man drew himself away from the window to turn his eyes back to Charles, and they were again blue and brown. "Isn't it better to think about what we could save than what's already lost?"

"There's nothing else to be done," Charles conceded, still quietly, after a pause. "The team will try to stop him, and I will try to convince those in power that something like this can never be allowed to happen again." But he made no move to go back to the desk just yet, just stared out at the unnaturally quiet grounds. On such a beautiful day, there would ordinarily have been students everywhere to be seen, enjoying the last of the sunlight. "It's too quiet."

He didn't belong here. Not needed for security and not bound for space with the rest of the team, his presence at the school was unnecessary. Every instinct told Jim he should be doing his job: taking care of the students, just like he always had.

Always . . . but not this time.

"I know, but . . . try to enjoy it, for however long it lasts. You'll miss not taking the chance later if you don't." Jim smiled wryly and gave Charles a hesitant pat on the shoulder. "And maybe eat dinner."