Beautiful Mutant

Professor Charles Xavier sat behind his desk, the gleaming silver wheelchair catching the light from the afternoon sun. The well-furnished room felt cozy though it was extremely large--thick carpets, walls of books, and old fashioned construction made it feel much smaller than it was. The large, ornate windows revealed the estate beyond, full of smooth green lawns, gravel pathways wide enough for four people to walk abreast, carved stone fences, and metal lawn chairs. Large overhanging trees swayed in the occasional breeze, and birds chirped.

The sunny cheeriness of the elegant yard contrasted greatly to the woman's mind. Shadowed and veiled, it was exceedingly hard to pierce through to the thoughts beneath. She had been sitting there for the better part of an hour, and still Charles could not tell a soul what she was thinking.

She wore dark jeans and a silver shirt with a dark brown jacket over the top. A necklace hung over her collarbones: a silver spiral going one direction, and a golden spiral going the other direction hanging directly below. Her black hair was drawn up and back, fashioned in a simple but pretty twist.

Beside her was an older man, one of the X Men (As Professor X had taken to calling them after Moira had suggested it....right before he wiped her mind). He had brought her in for Professor X, knowing she needed help. He wore an outfit that now characterized the world of X Men.

"What is your name?" Charles asked in a gentle voice. This had to be the fourth or fifth time he had asked this question. Her eyes flashed up to him, and back away to the window sill. She had been staring a hole through the stone ledge for the past several minutes. Her head was carried at a haughty angle, her face set, unmoving, not saying a word.

"They call me 'Beautiful Mutant,' " she said. There was movement beyond the dark veil over her thoughts, but it was blurred, hard to make out even outlines of shapes.

"And your given name?" he prodded. She shook her head sharply. The veil stilled, and her mind was utterly silent. If it had been a heart monitor, the line would have just gone flat. Frowning, Charles leaned forward, placing his elbows and forearms on the desk.

"Do you know your given name?"

"I--" she stopped abruptly.

"May I read your mind?" he asked suddenly, quietly. Charles watched her intently. Dark eyes moved to meet his. Something even darker lurked in their depths, something that strengthened as she tilted her head to the side, and one side of her mouth quirked up.

"You will get lost." She said softly. It was the kind of soft voice one associated with a dangerous person.

"I highly doubt that, madam," Charles responded, a small smile coming to his face now as he thought of all the minds he had traversed, from children's to adult's, from the sane to the insane.

She shrugged, her eyes leaving his at last.

"Do what you will. I will not stop you."

"Thank you," he said, a little quickly, relieved that he finally had permission.
Bracing himself, he delved into her thoughts.

***

Darkness fell on the estate. The few occupants were all in their rooms, most asleep in bed. Charles was in his bathroom, scrubbing his face repeatedly with a rough washcloth.

Throwing it into the sink, he glared at his reflection.

"I half expect to see cobwebs there," he muttered, before turning and leaving the bathroom, making his way over to the bed.

The exhausting excursion through the mysterious madam's head had left him feeling a little ill, with the sense that he was somehow tainted by the darkness swirling through her brain. Most places he had been the light was accepted, striven for.

In her, darkness was craved, striven for, a part of her. Something that, if removed, would leave her irreparably shattered.

There were only faint memories, bare hints of a past, and absolutely no knowledge of a name. The only things he had found were.....spiders, and snakes. Black cobwebs strung throughout her memories, and the memory of snakes, clear as day, echoed back at him.

Pulling the covers up around him, he tried to ignore the thoughts he know knew as his own, and fall to sleep.