Bevatron: Jean-Phillipe and Charles, Charles and Scott

[x-bevatron.livejournal.com]

Per this email, Jean-Phillipe comes to Charles' office to finally confess.



Jean-Phillipe steeled himself as he knocked on the door to Professor Xavier's office. He'd been the one to ask for this meeting, and he'd committed himself to this some time ago, but it was still nerve-wracking, knowing what he was about to do, what he was about to confess to.

"Enter," came the reply. Charles was at his desk, paperwork spread in front of him. "Ah, Mr. Colbert. Please, have a seat. Your email said you wished to speak to me somewhat urgently?"

"Oui, Profeseur." Jean-Phillipe perched on the edge of a chair, struggling with the urge to run away as fast as he possibly could. His fingers twitched slightly, tiny sparks of electricity shooting off of them in a nervous tic. "I...have a confession to make to you," he said without preamble. The irony of how much it sounded like the Catholic Act of Contrition was not lost on the irreligious young Frenchman.

Charles nodded, eyes fixed on the young man. It was easy to see that he was in a state of turmoil even without being able to casually scan him due to his powers. "Please, speak freely, Mr. Colbert. I can assure you that I will listen to anything you have to say."

This was the point of no return, the Rubicon that could not be uncrossed. "I came to your school under false pretenses," he said quietly. "When I first came into my powers, I was discovered by a man who helped me master them. His beliefs appealed to me, and so I agreed when he asked me to spy upon those who opposed him." He doubted Charles could not figure out who he was talking about, but he said the name anyway. "I came here to pass information on the X-Men to Magneto."

He paused and took a deep breath. "But the events in New York City, the excesses, the violence, they caused me to...reexamine what I was doing. I am a radical, Professor," he admitted, "but I am not a militant." He squared his shoulders. "I wish to turn myself in. I originally thought to come clean to Monsieur Summers as the field commander of the X-Men, and Inspecteur Kane as a representative of the law. But, with things occurring as they have, and the rumors of who might be responsible, I...am afraid for my own safety." But that fear was not enough to overcome his resolve towards honesty.

He met the Professor's eyes. "I wish to submit to a telepathic scan so that you might see that I am telling the truth, that I do not have any knowledge of the attack." His lips twisted wryly. "Magneto relied on the fact that my powers make me resistant to a casual scan, and that you are trusting enough not to subject your students and faculty to more invasive scanning without reason. I am giving you reason, and permission." He bowed his head. "I have abused your trust and your hospitality, and I am sorry for it."

There was a long pause, the hush that fell on the room broken only by the soft ticking of an ornate clock on the mantel. Then Charles spoke, his voice grave and a flicker of something deep in his eyes. "You did well to come to me, Jean-Phillipe. This is an extremely difficult situation and I appreciate your frankness, and your trust. However, before I do such a scan, let me ask you... did you indeed pass any information onto the man you know as Magneto?"

"Some," Jean-Phillipe said honestly. "Bits and pieces about people here at the mansion. Gossip from the Cuckoos, Monsieur Summers' control of his power and missing eye, some things that he might be able to take advantage of in a fight. The original plan was for me to display greater and greater control, and to join the X-Men as a trainee in gratitude, so that I might have access to more sensitive information."

"And yet this did not come to pass." The glint was back in Charles' eyes as he fixed them on Jean-Phillipe. "Why was that, I wonder?"

"As I said, the things that were done in this Apocalypse's name in New York City...I began to have second thoughts about what I was doing." Jean-Phillipe shifted a bit uneasily under Charles' gaze.

"You have been with us far longer than that, certainly more than enough time to complete your mission and become a trainee. And yet you did not. Was there something else besides the events in New York that might have held you back?"

Jean-Phillipe was rather taken aback at Charles' question. "I...je ne sais pas," he murmured in French, cocking his head and pondering the time that he had been at the mansion. He'd been abrasive, confrontational, and enjoyed stirring the other students up on the journal system. Now he was questioning himself. -Had- something held him back?

"It is one thing to look at a group from afar and declare them the enemy. It is quite another to live among them and be able to do the same." Something softened slightly in Charles' still-stern expression. "A matter of this importance... I will have to notify Cyclops and Storm, as leaders of the X-Men."

"I assumed as much." Jean-Phillipe had managed to recenter himself, and nodded. "Thank you for hearing me out, and for taking it so well. Do you wish to scan me now?"

"You have been misguided, but you would not be the first to realise that what you had believed wasn't what you thought it was. I would be remiss if did not give you the same chance as I have others." Charles nodded then and wheeled himself out from behind the desk. "For your benefit, as much as mine, I think a scan would be best. Relax, please as much as you are able - your powers do create a certain amount of psychic interference that I will have to bypass."

Jean-Phillipe did his best to rein in his powers while simultaneously attempting to relax as the Professor had asked. It was slightly difficult, as there was a slight tension to keeping his powers in check, and an understandable nervousness. But he made no attempt to resist Xavier's telepathic contact, sitting back more in his chair so that he was no longer poised and tensed on its edge.

"Close your eyes," Charles instructed, pausing his wheelchair in front of Jean-Phillpe and holding his hands up to either side of the young man's head. "And open your mind."


---
After meeting with Jean-Phillipe, Charles calls in Scott and explains the situation to him.



"Charles," Scott said, appearing at the door. He seemed a bit abstracted, which was likely due to the slim black device in his hand; he was obviously having trouble tearing his eyes away from it. "I had never thought of this use for an iPod before. But it's great! I can download training footage onto it, and not waste time walking up and down stairs and that sort of thing..."

For his part, Charles was over by the window, looking out over the grounds. His frown cleared a little at Scott's entrance and words, but it returned again as he contemplated what he was about to say. Directing the chair back towards his desk, he nodded at the chair waiting there. "You shall have to tell me all about it some time, but I'm afraid it will have to wait. I have had some disturbing news, which I must share with you."

The tone and choice of words registered instantly with Scott. He turned the iPod off and slid it into his pocket, frowning as he sat down. "This isn't news about the missing, is it?" he asked after a moment, feeling his chest tighten.

"Unfortunately, no. Although it is somewhat related." Charles paused just a moment before going on. "I had a discussion today, with one of the residents of the Institute. He came here, as he put it, under false pretences; he was sent by Magneto to gather information on the X-Men and pass it on."

For an instant Scott saw red - thankfully, not in the 'uncontrolled optic blast smashing the Professor's desk' sense of the word. But it took a long moment to throttle that first rush of pure, murderous rage and kick his brain into something resembling proper function once more.

'Resident of the Institute'. Not a student, or an X-Man, then? But who could have flown under the radar, not been picked up by any of the telepaths... "As this person isn't in the room with us," Scott finally said, his voice tight and his words clipped, "I'm going to assume he's not an immediate threat."

"He is not any kind of a threat - he came to me voluntarily and confessed his position and then allowed me to do a deep telepathic scan to confirm that he has indeed recanted." Charles knew Scott wasn't going to like the next part. "He asked for sanctuary, here at the Institute."

Scott's jaw tightened, the anger bubbling up again. But, priorities... "Given that you haven't said anything, I'm guessing he didn't know anything about who hit Garrison's car."

"Nothing. I was most careful to exhaust that possibility, I assure you. In fact, he knew little more than what we already knew from Pietro's defection - he was not an integral part of the Brotherhood, it seems, most of a sympathizer on the fringes." In contrast to Scott's tension, Charles was a study of calm. And something else-quiet determination radiated from him.

"Yet Magneto chose him to spy on us," Scott said flatly. "He must have trusted that he was capable of observing and passing on relevant information."

"He chose someone he knew would not be turned away - a young person needing help with his powers, someone with connections to a previous student. The plan was for this individual to become a trainee and gain access to the team files to pass information on. He did not, however, go through with this, and so the information he was able to pass on was minor in nature. I believe he began to doubt his mission almost as soon as he arrived." Another pause. "I am satisfied that whatever his intentions or goals when he arrived here, he is not the same person now."

"Connections to a previous student... you're talking about Jean-Phillipe Colbert." It was obvious, all at once. He'd talked about Jean-Phillipe's training with Jean, more than once, and what the boy's mind looked like to a telepath had come up. Scott's mouth twisted in a wintry, bitter smile. "So should I be asking what information he passed on about me? Given that I've been working with him for months... actually, rhetorical question, I think I can guess." He rubbed at the scars on the side of his face, thinking. "Did he actually need powers training?" he asked flatly, stomach twisting at the memory of some of the conversations they'd had. He'd given away so much, of how he thought, how he approached things...

"Not particularly, no. His actual control is more than adequate." Charles sighed, just a little. "Betrayal is never an easy thing to deal with, but I am satisfied what little he was able to pass on is more in the realms of confirming what Er... Magneto already knew, rather than anything altogether new. And given his desire to make amends and renounce his former allegiance, we have been extremely lucky."

Scott shook it off. No point, now. "He's gotten himself into a real mess, hasn't he?" The coldness in his voice wasn't particularly directed at Charles, but the idiot boy wasn't in the room right now, so. "Needing to ask for protection from the people he came here to hurt. You realize that while I can guarantee none of the X-Men will be attacking him in the halls if they want to stay on the team, that's all I can do, right? I'll support your decision, Charles, but I can't endorse it."

"He isn't the first to come here to do us harm - Remy was sent as an assassin, as you'll recall. And yet he was able to overcome that and has risked his life for the security of the school many times over the years." Charles met Scott's eyes. "I understand your anger, Scott, but above all, this school is a place for mutants to have a chance at a better life. Jean-Phillipe has asked for my help and showed he is willing to trust me to provide it. I cannot refuse him."

"Where in this conversation have I asked you to? Charles, I know you're constitutionally incapable of turning away someone in need. I'm not going to try and fight you on this, or try and undermine what you've decided to offer him." And he was getting angry at Charles, now, angry that it was apparently necessary to state these things explictly.

And this wasn't a conversation, he realized abruptly; he was being informed of the way things would be, and that was that. Scott rose abruptly, all of his mental defenses scrupulously in order. "Will you be informing the team," he said, his words clipped, "or does that responsibility fall to me? I won't agree to keeping it from them."

"I can tell them, Scott." Charles sighed, just a little. "I apologise if I have seemed somewhat heavy-handed in this conversation. It was not my intention to imply that you were fighting me on this. You've followed my dream, helped me fulfill it for so long, it was remiss of me to suggest you would do otherwise."

Well, that rather quashes the 'stalking out the room in a huff' part of the plan for the next five minutes... Scott stood there for a moment, gazing at Charles - and then sat back down.

"None of us want to see young mutants following Magneto," he said, and the tiny, bitter smile that twisted his lips wasn't directed at the Professor. "That sometimes means actively helping them turn away from him. I accept that. But that's me speaking very objectively - no, that's Scott talking. And I don't have the privilege of reacting solely as a human being who believes in a dream anymore," he said, an edge of pain in his voice. "I can't. Because I'm... a goddamned co-general, fighting a war. Maybe I'm an extreme case - I hope I am. But there's so much water under the bridge, Charles. Magneto's had our people kidnapped, tortured - he's fought to kill, he may have actually killed everyone in that car. Your dreamers are turning into soldiers, and soldiers have a hard time embracing the enemy. The damned thing is, most of us are going to know that we should, and that's going to be the conflict. With ourselves."

Charles looked away, back to the window, where the faintest sound of young voices could be heard. When he looked back at Scott, his eyes were filled with deep sadness. "I never meant for any of you to be soldiers, Scott. The X-Men were to protect, to help, not to fight. But you're right, the world has changed and sometimes I wonder if my dream is a luxury in such times." He looked tired, and old, as he spoke. "Jean-Phillipe is aware of what he faces and I will do my best to take the responsibility for the consequences of this decision. Please let anyone who comes to you with any difficulties know that?"

Scott nodded and rose. But instead of heading for the door immediately, he paused, then walked around the desk, standing by Charles's chair for a moment before he reached out and laid a hand on the Professor's shoulder, squeezing gently. "It's not a luxury," he said, his voice rough. "It's a necessity. Because if we don't have that, then we don't have anything, and all of this means nothing." He cleared his throat, managed a self-deprecating smile. "Apparently we're all constitutionally incapable of taking the easy way out. I suppose by most standards that's a good thing."

Charles's answering small smile was grateful and he patted Scott's hand briefly. "By all the standards that count, yes, it is a very good thing. Thank you, Scott."

"And now," Scott said, an edge of real humor slipping into his voice (and if it took a little effort to put it there, it was well-spent, he thought), "I am going to go design a few new Danger Room scenarios. If all else fails, I should be able to keep them bruised, tired, and annoyed enough at me to give Jean-Phillipe some breathing room."

Comments

[x-jubilee.livejournal.com]

You guys had me tearing up at the end, you know. I've always liked Xavier and Scott's relationship. Good to see it here. And awesome work Twiller, Alicia and whoever was socking Xavier.