X-Men: The Gifted Ones

12a: CHARLES' SITTING ROOM, WEST CHESTER, NEW YORK

Charles rubbed his temples. He was having a particularly trying day. A pervasive sense of gloom had settled over him. These days came to him at times. He would try to climb out of bed on legs that no longer worked. He wanted to be the old Charles again. Walking. Flirting. Commanding. Leading. He wanted to feel like a professor again. He wanted to be able to walk into a room and have all eyes on him because of his presence. He did not understand why life had to pull this cruel trick on him in his prime. He could still teach, but it was not the same. He had to teach, but his gloom made him feel as if it was useless. He needed to train his recruits, but it was not a day in which he felt like dealing with any of their weaknesses. And God knows, they have weaknesses! He had no patience for careless mistakes, accidental fires, or bumbling apologies. He wanted someone who would understand his pain, maybe even try to relieve it. I need an empath, he decided.

He sent for Jane. He found himself seeking her company more frequently. He wanted to see how she would respond to him on a day like this. She was a strange one to him. He had never experienced anything quite like her. An altruistic empath! Her power takes from her, gives her nothing in return, and yet she sees nothing wrong with it, he mused. Most would rail with indignation, she accepts it, and does not allow it to overwhelm her. He had realized quickly that the woman absorbed not only physical pain, but mental pain as well. He had even caught her trying to absorb his mental pain at times. She was no telepath like him, but it was as if her mind set out tendrils and they gripped to each painful thought around her. He knew she was doing this and he often found himself having to block his own mind from the tendrils of hers to focus on her training, lest he lose himself in her mind's grasp. But oh, how I want those tendrils wrapped around my pain right now! He imagined her mind as a place where his pain would vanish, if only for a little while.

He had to stop himself. She did it as such a cost to herself. He had to teach her how to block the incoming pain. That was why he was training her.

Charles wanted to see the true extent of Jane's ability to sense pain and how she would respond if he allowed the full extent of his pain to become absorbed by that placid exterior. He was testing himself as much as he was testing her. He had Jane meet him in his sitting room rather than his study. He wanted his mental anguish on full display. He wondered how she would react. She was an Army nurse, a hybrid of strength and caring, toughness and nurturing. She was almost formal to a fault and he could not discern between her military training or her personal reservations. A woman like her would have to be reserved, he realized, otherwise people would bleed her dry. He had experienced her absorbing small trickles of emotion. How would she react to the flood he was about to pour on her?

He knew she would be confused when she was told to come to his sitting room rather than his study. His sitting room was as casual as he was willing to get with her. He did not wish for her to have the wrong idea about him. It was difficult enough to know that she seemed to be attracted to him. It was worse knowing that part of his pain was feeling attracted to her, but knowing that she would forever be out of his reach. Jane walking into a room could usually make his darkest moods dissipate, but in a gloom like today, the idea of it made his heart ache even more. So much was taken from me, he cursed. I never asked the world for a damned thing, and yet it takes everything from me!

He felt relieved when she walked through the door of the sitting room. She seemed concerned. He knew she would be. He was asking for her outside of their normal training hours. But this is training, he tried to tell himself.

"Thank you for coming, Jane," he greeted her from the large chair. He knew he could not prevent the gloom from escaping.

"Are you OK?" she asked, her voice concerned. She continued to stand by the door. She showed no signs of rushing to him. It was not the concern he was hoping to see. He noticed there was something different about her. She's holding back, he realized.