Read My Mind ↳ charles xavier

3. An Interesting Proposal

*thirty-six hours later*

Guilt is a dreadful thing. It manifests itself inside of your mind before it possesses you wholly, making you feel like you do not want to be here to feel this.

At least, this is how I feel now, standing alone in front of my mother's coffin. I just missed the funeral, which ended about an hour ago, but I manage to get some time alone with my mother's coffin before they lower it into the hole in the ground.

I say nothing. I'm not sure why I am even here right now, whether it's guilt or longing or whatever. I really don't know.

Maybe guilt was all it took for me to fly here, back to New York for the funeral. Maybe I felt that coming would somehow wipe the slate clean, that it would make up for that last little fight we had.

But I still feel like absolute trash. My head is pounding from excessive lack of sleep, and every time I think of my mother I get these painful knots in my stomach.

                                •••

Once I leave the cemetery, I sulk back to my rental car and find the nearest bar. No, I do not drink regularly, except during special cases. Or, in this case, a not so special case.

I plant myself at the bar, resting my elbows against the cool wooden countertop. My shoulders involuntarily slouch as the bartender balances back and forth between his two feet in front of me.

"A beer, please?" I ask quietly, staring at my hands as I fold them on the counter. The man obeys and quickly grabs me a bottle of beer from behind him and places it on the counter. I nod my head as a thank you and open it, taking a drink.

"What on earth is a beautiful woman like you drinking that stuff for?" A deep, unfamiliar, male voice says from behind me, to my right.

I roll my eyes, irritated with his flirtatious style of greeting me. "Free country," I mumble, trying my hardest to ignore the presence I feel of the stranger behind me.

This stranger sits down in the stool right beside me, and even after looking at his face, I still do not recognize him. That short, light brown hair, those light blue eyes, and that dark trench coat are very unfamiliar to my eyes. I turn away and take another swig of my beer.

"You're still here," I say, taking a shot at my own version of persuasion, but he still does not budge. "What do you want?"

"My name is Erik Lehnsherr," the man says. I raise my eyebrows and shake my head, still confused.

"Is that supposed to mean something to me?" Erik chuckles quietly, which only further progresses my confusion and increases my need to be away from him.

"You're a mutant," he says out of the blue, and I tense up. "You don't have to be afraid, Blake. I'm not here to hurt you." This does not help me relax whatsoever, because I still don't know who he is, but appearantly, he knows who I am.

"Then, why are you here?" I ask, "And, how do you know my name?"

"Me and my friend, we're mutants," Erik starts, and I gesture for him to continue. I suppose the fact that he says he's a mutant makes me trust him a wee bit. "We're looking for others."

"Why?" I place some money on the counter for the beer and get up off my stool at the same time that Erik gets off of his.

"Have you ever heard of Sebastian Shaw?"

                                •••

No, I had not heard about Sebastian Shaw. But Erik took the liberty of explaining the situation to me in full. Not all of the information that he gave to me entered my head and stayed there, but I managed to pick out bits and pieces of the story.

Sebastian Shaw is a mutant with the power to absorb energy, which I find extremely cool and slightly unbelievable. Appearantly, he is highly dangerous and he's trying to start world war three and blah-blah-blah.

Erik also said that him and his friend Charles Xavier are rounding up some young mutants to aid in the fight against Shaw. Just my luck, this is the same Charles Xavier that I have been crushing on for the past year. Yay for me.

My interest peaks when I realized that Charles is a mutant, too, like me. Maybe Raven is, also. I figured that she would have told me about it by now, but I can't exactly blame her. She isn't the only one keeping secrets around here.

Erik still has not told me how he found me, or how he knew my name or that I was a mutant. We end up talking about other things and I forget to ask him about it. 

The drive to wherever it is we are going lasts about an hour, and I manage to get in a short, dreamless nap. When I awake, we are parked in front of a huge brown building. My first thought is that it is CIA headquarters and it's where the mutants get to stay for the time being.

And, that's just what it is.

Upon arrival, Charles comes out the front door of the building to greet his friend and the new mutant— me. Of course, he does not recognize me. After I introduce myself, I barely say a word, just trail behind the two men as they go inside and down a long hallway.

Charles Xavier is a mutant. Like me. What the hell are the odds of that happening?

Then again, I am one of those people that has to see proof of something before I believe in it. Before I think about this anymore, I need to know what it is that he can do.

Except, I don't get a chance to confirm my suspicions. Erik and Charles have to leave with CIA agent Moira Mactaggert because apparently they have a lead on Shaw.

When I asked them why the rest of the mutants would not be joining them, they said that they are not ready to fight yet.

They leave me by myself after giving me the directions to the room where the rest of the mutants are currently in. To be honest, I am not very excited about it.

Raven will be there, no doubt. What will she think when she discovers that one of her best friends has been lying to her?

A mind-numbing pain spreads through my back suddenly. I groan in pain and open a door nearest to me, letting out a sigh of relief when I see that it's a bathroom. I stumble inside and lock the door, hoping that no one saw me.

I wince as the pain intensifies and I grab the edge of the sink as if that would keep it at bay. But it doesn't.

I look in the mirror and jump backwards in surprise.

It's me still, much to my relief. Well, it's mostly me. Stretching out behind me are two very large and pearly white wings, feathers and all.

The scary part is, they are coming out of me.