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Ashni wondered a bit at the term “expel,” and Charles wondered how exactly to go about describing the barriers he’d put in place. They were designed to cause pain to any who tried to come to the estate with impure intentions in regards to the students housed within. The more a potential threat tried to get past them, the more intense the pain became. The school was meant to be a safe haven, a place where mutant children could grow and learn and gain control of their abilities without fear. Charles had no intention of letting anyone through who would purposefully hurt his students, or his staff.

He could feel her growing sense of hope as he explained the purpose of the school. She seemed quite enamored with the idea of a school specifically for mutant children, where they could become something other than weapons. There were whispers of words such as home, and Charles sincerely hoped that Westchester could become such for her. He wanted her to feel like she belonged; that was part of the mission driving the school, after all.

“I think with the staff,” she answered, a bit hesitant in her response. “At least since I plan on working to earn my keep.”

He gave a nod at that and hit the button for the topmost floor.

“Where do you sleep,” she asked as the doors closed.

A small brush against her mind revealed it to be completely innocent, a mere inquiry to sate a bit of curiosity.

“I’m with the staff as well,” he replied. “Before the elevator was finished, though, I was set up on the first floor.”

Prior to Cuba, he’d slept in the easternmost room on the second floor, his childhood bedroom and full of memories both terrible and pleasant. After he’d returned home from the hospital, sentenced to life in a wheelchair, the boys had helped him convert one of the rooms on the first floor into a temporary bedroom while Hank finished construction on the elevator and other adjustments needed to make the mansion wheelchair accessible.

Rogue stood up, her excitement obvious even without the telepathy. Charles smiled a bit at that; it was wonderful to see the girl so excited. She had been so afraid of herself when she’d first arrived. That she was able to be so excited for something and have no qualms about showing that excitement, it was progress.

“Oh, thank you, Professor,” Rogue beamed. “If ya don’t mind, Ah’m gonna go get started. Lots to do.”

Charles nodded in agreement. “Of course, my dear, I’ll not keep you any longer. It will be wonderful to see the outcome.”

The girl smiled as though she’d just received the greatest news in history. It was the sort of smile she didn’t usually display unless Logan had returned from his latest escapade.

It was truly comforting to see one of his students so happy, especially in light of recent events. Rogue’s excitement and happiness was a bit infectious, and Charles felt quite a bit happier himself than he had when she’d first knocked on his door.

Life would have to continue on, even without Jean, and the children needed a bit of positivity in their lives. Rogue’s obvious excitement for starting a student-led yoga class was a very good place to start, in his opinion. No doubt a good number of the other students would leap at the opportunity to do something fun with their peers. It wouldn’t fix everything overnight, but it was a start, at least. And a start was exactly what they needed.

“Don’t mind if I do,” she accepted, taking a seat. “New recipe: raspberry white chocolate. I thought it might be interesting with Chai. Hopefully it’s not too sweet together.”

“Raspberry white chocolate, hm? Can’t say I’ve had that before,” he said as he took a bite of the scone. “It tastes wonderful, Ashni, well done.”

Not that he’d ever really encountered anything he considered too sweet; triple chocolate concoctions came very close, depending on the sorts of chocolates used, but Charles had always had a sweet tooth. If it had sugar, he was perfectly willing to try it.

“Did you have time today to think of your next move? I think I might have you beat this time!”

He chuckled a bit at that. To be honest, he hadn’t really given it much thought. Though, considering the board, he’d have her in check in three moves unless she figured out a way to turn the tables. Which she might; she’d proven herself to quite the capable player, after all.

“If I do win, you owe me a forfeit,” she added with a wink.

“Of course,” Charles assured. “Let’s see how the game goes, shall we?”

“The same thing as you, I would imagine,” she answered. “Although, how do you know I’m alone? I might have a big, strong boyfriend that’s about to come out of the washroom to pound you into oblivion.”  The lady's smile widened at the end of her quip, and Charles found himself impressed; she was even prettier when she smiled. 

He liked her wording; if he could find a willing man who wouldn’t be a bundle of issues, he wouldn’t mind being “pounded into oblivion”—though he doubted that was her actual meaning.

“Do you have a big, strong boyfriend I should worry about,” he retorted, sliding into the seat across from her. A quick brush against her mind told him that no, she did not have a boyfriend, let alone one who would gladly attempt to beat him for striking up a simple conversation.

“Are you a gambling man, then? Or are you gonna walk away and try that charm of yours on someone else?”

“Well, considering that you, my dear, are the most interesting person in this pub—not to mention the most attractive—I daresay I’d much rather play my chances with you,” he replied, flashing her a slightly arrogant smirk.

He discretely poked at her mind, trying to determine if he was actually detecting another mutant, or if he’d had just a bit too much of the scotch.

“The name's Charles Xavier,” he offered. “And you are...?”

“Charles,” she squealed. “C’mon, tell me! Look,” she made a pointed gesture to show him that they were alone (as though he couldn’t tell himself) before setting her cup down and leaning over the counter. “Just whisper it if you don’t want to say it out loud. You can tell me anything. You know that.”

He did. He should be able to tell Raven that he’d gone against society and fallen hard for another man, but unlike his telepathy or her shape-shifting, homosexuality wasn’t a “groovy mutation.” It was a mental illness, something treated like a crime people seemed to abhor more than homicide. And would she even believe him, considering all the skirt chasing he’d done back in Oxford?

“Especially when it comes to matters of the heart,” Raven added. “Pretty please?”

She battered her eyelashes at him, the look that would have had him let her get away with murder when they were younger. Part of him wanted to tell her, to have someone else shoulder the burden of the secret, but that wasn’t his place. And something like this...if he told Raven and she accidentally let it slip, there could be horrible consequences. His peers would likely be more willing to accept his mutation than they would be to accept that he loved another man.

Charles bit his lip and sighed as he crumbled. He never really could deny Raven anything she asked of him, in the end.

“Raven,” he began, trying to think of a way to word it. Words failed him, and finally he let out a soft, humorless sound. “I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”

“You don’t eat enough,” she replied, putting her hands on her hips and blushing slightly from being caught. “And you seem so tired afterwards.”

“Thank you dearly for your thoughtfulness,” he said as he wheeled himself over to the tray. “I must admit, it’s become something I look forward to when I leave Cerebro.”

Ashni had a point; with everything that was going on, Charles would often forget to eat. He’d done the same as a graduate student in Oxford, and even before that back at Harvard and throughout his brief time in compulsory education. Raven had often been the one to drag him away from his desk to eat or unwind, insisting that they go to a pub or take a walk in the park or whatever sort of activity she thought of. After she left...well...Hank did his best, but he was just as bad as Charles was from time to time.

He reached out to her mind for a brief moment; she’d taken to picturing things that brought her calm and peace whenever she was around him, and he’d come to enjoy discovering the images and thoughts she settled on. Today’s was a lovely mountain lake, a memory of hers from her childhood.

“Any luck today? Anyone we need to worry about?” Ashni asked, cocking an eyebrow in concern. “You know I’m happy to go if you need me to.”

“I am very much aware,” Charles answered as he took a scone, “and I am incredibly grateful for your willingness to help. However, there are no imminent threats at the moment. I have located a few more to add to the summer recruiting list, though.”

Due to the chaos of running a school, the only time Charles ever sent someone out to fetch a potential student during the term was when the child in question was in imminent danger. Instead, he kept his recruiting to breaks: the winterim, Spring Break, the summer hols—whenever he could reasonably leave the school for particular lengths of time.

“Would you care for a scone as well, my dear? They do taste better when shared with friends."

Raven hummed in understanding. “I guess you’re right,” she said with a small sigh. “You’ve got your hands full with Shaw, and all of us. I mean, you went from taking care of me to taking care of several of us. I mean, sure, they’re mostly adult enough to think on their own, but it’s you that we all run to. It makes me feel bad, really.”

Which she shouldn’t, but Charles knew better than to say anything. Raven was rather headstrong; when she got to thinking or feeling a particular way, good luck trying to convince her otherwise.

“Even with everything else going on, you should still be able to relax enough to set your eyes on someone,” Raven continued.

Oh, if only she knew. Charles worried his bottom lip a bit. She was his sister, and surely she wouldn’t fault him for falling hard for another man. Right? Or would she fall in line with society on this one, thinking he’d lost his mind? There was a reason he’d kept mainly to women back in Oxford; it was expected, almost required, and while Charles had truly been attracted to them, whatever it was pulling him to Erik was far stronger than anything else he’d ever felt.

“I know that Moira girl keeps looking at you with stars in her eyes.”

Charles swallowed. He was painfully aware of how Moira regarded him. Normally, he would be flattered and setting about charming her into his bed like any other lovely lady he’d met in his adult life. If it weren’t for Erik, certainly he would be. He needed to figure something out; would Erik be disgusted with him if he said anything? Would he lash out, call him sick, perverted, a freak of nature? Erik was all about accepting one’s mutation, but would homosexuality receive the same response? It was enough to make Charles want to vomit from sheer nerves.

“Having your hands full is one thing,” Raven added, “and so is having your mind on other things, but Charles...you have time. You have plenty of time. Besides, you don’t want to deprive any future prospects of your affection. That would just be selfish and rude of you, Charles Xavier. Shame, shame.”

She grinned, and Charles offered a shaky grin in response. She didn’t know. Couldn’t possibly know. If she knew, what was the likelihood that she’d still be so accepting? So willing to smile at him and tease him?

“Now, if you do set your sights on anyone, you had better tell me. Understood? Even if you’re hiding something from me right now, you better ‘fess up at some point.”

How about the twelfth of never? There were horror stories whispered amongst people who spent their lives trying to reconcile inappropriate feelings with what they were expected to do and become. Such-and-such got locked up in a mental hospital. So-and-so killed herself on her wedding day. Another poor soul was beaten to death when his parents found out. Charles clung to his tea cup like a lifeline. He couldn’t tell her, but she was his sister, so he couldn’t just lie to her, either.

“Well,” Charles said slowly, carefully, trying to word it so that he could leave it ambiguous and still satisfy her. After all, she hadn’t told him who her lover was; why should he tell her? “I will admit...someone has caught my eye. But the timing just doesn’t feel right.”

His words had had an impact on her, it seemed. Charles frowned a bit at the sheer amount of confusion and bewilderment the poor girl was projecting. Did no one ever take her opinions or wants into consideration? (And idiotic question, really, that insidious little voice in the back of his mind sneered; do you see where the girl lives?)

Ashni blinked in complete surprise, as though she had no clue how to react to the thought of anyone taking her requests into consideration. Her mind raced, desperately trying to fit his actions and words into a pattern that she recognized and understood—none of which would work, as it was becoming alarmingly obvious that no man had ever shown her the sort of regard Charles had.

Her mind flicked back to the word mistress and Charles schooled his features into a look of pure calm. She was basically a child, far too young to have to worry about men coming to take her on as a glorified bedmate, of all things. Her eyes flickered to Hank, her mind rescinding the thought.

“Why? Why come simply because I asked?”

“Because you asked,” Charles responded. “While I was primarily concerned for your safety—a sudden disconnect through Cerebro is not always so gentle—you had already asked. I would have come anyway, simply because you asked.”

He shifted a bit in his seat and took another sip of tea.

“This is what I do, my dear. I locate young mutants who are either in danger or likely to find themselves in danger and I go to them. I offer them a place where they can be safe, where they don’t have to hide their abilities and they don’t have to be afraid.”

Had she asked him to stay away, he would have. Well, he would have continued to keep an eye on her through Cerebro, but he wouldn’t have flown half-way around the world.

“Your opinions matter to me, Ashni,” he said, making sure to look her in the eye. “If you want me to go, I will. If want to come with Hank and I, you are most certainly welcome. If you would rather stay, I will not force you to come with us. I will honor your wishes, I assure you."

“No, my people were poor,” Magda confirmed. “Most our things were made of wood and were very basic. It was not until later that I begin to step out of that world, and begin to notice things...I was twenty, I think. Maybe slightly older.”

Charles nodded a bit in understanding. It was completely likely that Magda had actually manifested at an earlier age, but because she’d spent her early years living away from most of what her power dealt with, she simply didn’t notice. Or perhaps her powers hadn’t actually manifested until she was twenty or so; maybe mutations only manifested under certain conditions. And the nature of the mutations were also stunning.

Did they all stem from the same gene mutation? If so, how did that mutation determine what abilities that child would possess? Where there multiple genes undergoing mutations? There was still so much to learn, to study, and Charles found himself dizzy with excitement from the mere prospect of it all. Evolution in action. It was breathtaking.

“You have spoken of others,” she added. “Will you try to find them all?”

“Well, I would love to meet other mutants,” he confessed. “I would love the opportunity, but I can’t say that I’ll go seeking them out. Mutant minds have a different feel to them than humans—I can tell the difference quite easily when I don’t try to keep myself in—but I don’t have a way to actually go about seeking them out.”

It wasn’t as though he had a machine that could amplify his reach, after all. Good thing, too; if he did, he’d likely never want to leave it. His mentors would be furious. Charles chuckled a bit at his own private joke.

“And besides, seeking them out at this point may prove counterproductive. I want to be able to ease mutants into the public eye, after all. Give the world time to adjust to the idea.” Like, say, a generation or two. It would be slow, but it would hopefully have the least amount of violence and destruction.