A Little Bit of Nostalgia: Chapter Two
Chapter Two:
The devil won by Erik turned out to be the most useful. And as he sat in front of the fire he felt like he should pat his back or something else figurative and congratulatory. Except a glass of scotch or a expensive cigar wouldn’t solve there current problem. A strange problem, and possibly life changing.
“Charles, would you like some more ice cream?” Raven pried the icebox open before he even nodded his head. Two days after the beach, and Raven was sure if his brother was insane. One day after disbelieve set it, and she was hoping for him to say, “gotcha ya, wasn’t I hilarious for feigning mental illness during a potentially catastrophic human even.” She handed him the bowl. “Well, of course you do.”
“Thank you,” Charles said severely. Always a polite kid. Then messily brought the spoon that his hand fisted around to his wide open face. Raven shook her head, before turning to the sink that reflected her blue form. “Have I done something wrong?”
She felt ridged when she turned to answer, “no, of course not.”
“Than why is everyone not wanna be around me?” If this was Charles, well, the Charles of now, she would say ‘what, can’t read minds?’.
Actually, she was unsure if in this state that was possible.
“Well, it’s cause they are all busy.” True, to some degree. Hank was busy trying to decipher brain scans, Sean was busy trying to find drugs to sedate current events, Alex had been around but unsure of how to talk to children, and well, Erik, was busy avoiding the situation. Raven sat down next to him at the dinning table. “We have had a long week.”
“Oh,” Charles nodded, but then pouted. “Can we play later, or are you going to be busy?”
It broke her heart. “Of course not. We can go outside, and play games.”
She brushed back a few toughs of hair that seemed to never behave behind her brother's ear. "Don't worry. Will figure this out."
Before the now aggressive CIA knows of their weak mental wall. "I promise."
Before Erik decides that he really is the prince of all things soft and pseudo-human, as well, as hard and metal.
The Professor was under the impression that they were some strange, and sort of funky looking, family that he just couldn’t remember. And that he was eight. Was this funny or tragic, Sean couldn’t decide.
“So, Prof-Charles, would you like to throw some ball?” Charles light up. Sean felt bad. It was sort of his fault. The two days after the beach, the situation had been a bit freaky, and a little awkward. But really, it wasn’t Charles fault that all of a sudden he had some sort of strange mental relapse. Probably some telepath thing, but couldn’t be sure. Sean wasn’t too familiar with these things.
He handed him a baseball glove. Uncertainty, followed by Charles shrugging, and the glove was now a mystery. Sean never thought that he would know how awkward showing a thirtyish man who believed he was eight how to put on a baseball glove. Now he was a man of knowledge. “It’s like this. Ah, yeah. You got it now. Run over there.” Charles ran wobbly, and unrestrained about twenty feet away. “Okay, now to the wild part. You gotta catch it.” Tossing it up, Sean watched as Charles positioned himself under he ball. “You gotta be good at this if you Brit really wanna be full blooded American.” A cracking noise. The ball had hit Charles smack on the forehead.
Sean ran through the lawn shouting, “Big boys don’t cry.”
Sometimes Charles is frightened of the silent figure in the library. Maybe is was the way that the man insisted on staring, or more likely that whenever Charles would try to sneak around him to get to the fiction section big hands would handle and adjust his face until once again all Charles could see were raised eyebrows, and light wrinkles.
“Why don’t you come over here.” Charles is caught. Not a practically rebellious child-man, when the phantom of the library summons he answers the call. Sitting silently at the feet of the wooden table, he dared not look up at the stone face that was staring so harshly. “Do you not remember me at all?”
Charles shakes his head. No. It’s no lie. Would a boy not remember the boogie man under the bed? Especially now when the boogie man had a real name, and claimed to be your bestest friend in the entire world.
“Can you not speak?” Charles shakes his head no. “Say it.”
The man’s breath smelt like alcohol. Charles is very familiar with that scent. It reminds him of his mommie. Raven tells him his mommie is no longer there. He hears Raven say that she’s dead in that voice that does not come from her mouth. That voice is something he hears from everyone, and they all want to know about it. Charles plays dumb, scared that they are scared.
“Please just answer me.” It’s not a sob. Men don’t cry, cause Charles knows that big boys don’t cry. “Just talk, Charles.”
So Charles tells him everything is going to be okay, cause that’s what the man is begging him to say in that whisper so quiet only he can hear. Promises made, the man seems worse off. “Would you like to play checkers?”
A grin that seems off, “Do you know how to play chess?”
“No. It’s the one with the knights and queens and castles, right?”
“And kings, bishops, and soldiers.” Erik stands up and takes the board already waiting for players off the shelf. “I’ll teach you. I have a feeling you’ll be good.”
Charles nod. “Me too. My mom says I’m good at games.”
“Don’t get cocky now.” A real smile, and Charles knows that the monster is really a shark king just waiting for someone to ask him to play a game.
As a genius, Hank knows a lot of things. Not just remember, but can manipulate all sort of information. Brain-scans tell him nothing. An ultrasound just ends up annoying to his newly developed animal ears, and end up turning up normal. As a scientist, yes, he know being obtuse for getting frustrated. Being wrong just gets him closer to being right. But as a doctor it’s hard. As a friend, it’s almost disturbing.
“There’s no physical cause that I have yet to detect.” Breaking it to Raven was hard, she cried. Breaking it to Erik was frightening, he just frowned. “It seems to be a psychological reaction due to trauma, maybe even something to do with his mutation. If we could somehow find some sort of psychologist, maybe, but without someone to wipe the mind afterwards-”
“So, he snapped?” The transformation had left Hank’s tongue unfortunately like sandpaper, but his speech seemed intact to him.
“Well, yes, in more or less words.” Hank doesn’t like Erik. Violence, rage, aggression, and action in general aren’t his thing being the passive, gentlemen beast. Hank respects Erik. He sees sharp eyes that seem something like intelligence. An intelligence he doesn’t quite understand. One gained through actions, not words. But right now, none of that was present. Just a dull look of a shock that kills thoughts. “Look Erik, we can’t handle this. We need to get help. Moria knows some people who can keep-”
“No, humans.” It’s weak. No conviction. “Maybe, Beast, if you talk to him you could-”
“I know nothing of the mind, Erik. It’s more complicated than just talking him out of it. There could be trigger words, or certain images that could make him withdraw. His mutation could of created layers of mental blokes. I’m sorry, Erik. But if you can’t get him real help, then all we have is time and patience.”
Alik is a very patient person. A few months in solitary confinement, and years in and out of the system does that to a person. But being told that he was going to have to assist the Prof with all the little necessities of life that a seven year old can’t perform without supervision was crossing the line.
“It’s just for a few days,” Raven says. “Just until we can sort things out with Moira. And well, Beast is busy in the lab, and Sean is well-” a hamster killer and a dope fiend. “And Erik does not want to ask Angel, or any of them back into the house. I can’t take him myself.”
He agrees, only cause he knows how shitty Raven must feel not being able to be there for Charles.
“Alik?” Charles says for the tenth time. “Alik?”
“What the hell you want?”
It comes out harsh, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice. The Prof is still the Prof, even if he’s a twenty year younger version. “Uh, could you please read this to me?”
The book he hands over is thick, and the title is almost unbearably dole and British. “Can’t you read yourself?”
Charles nods. All his gestures are childish now, and sometimes Alik has to stop himself from laughing at the man a little taller than himself. “Since I was-” Not quite counting on his fingers, he pauses to calculate the only seven years apparent to his mind. “Four.”
“Than why do I have to read it?”
Charles ears redden, and frowns. Embarrassing him, Alik feels a little guilty. “I like it when I can hear it.”
“Oh.”
He whispers, “So I can tell the difference between these-” Charles points to his temple. “And those.”
Bathtime is a totally surreal experience. Especially when Charles fights him the first time, swearing he didn’t need one, and that he’d take on tomorrow. Reminding a almost thirty year old to brush his teeth, or to eat dinner before ice cream, or to wash his hands, or that is was okay to sometimes read Alik’s thoughts instead of listen to what he was saying, was becoming routine.
Sometimes Beast helped. At first Alik was mad that Raven hadn’t had asked him instead. Beast seemed so much more capable at this sort of thing. Or at least more sensitive, considering lanky, awkward Hank was somewhere in that blue.
Than came the moment where Beast of infinitely embarrassed by Charles wondering why he all of sudden had grown man parts, instead of boys. An hour of a very scientific explanation of puberty was brought on, and ended with a Charles more confused than before.
Because Beast was still Hank, Raven had asked him.
Alik just thanked god that at least Charles hadn’t reverted into some pre-potty trained remnant of himself.
Erik wonders why he can’t comprehend Raven’s ease at handle this situation. Maturity must come and go. It took along time for him to get a grip. Maybe it’s just different for him, as he see Charles in a way different light than in the brotherly way Raven handles him.
“I’m happy he doesn’t remember me.” Raven says.
Erik agrees, but stays unemotional behind the wheel. “ Why?”
“I’m his little sister. It’s selfish but I wouldn’t want to change that.” She’s not blue right now, and her blonde hair reflects the sun. Than she asks for approval, “ya know?”
“I can understand.” Erik knows. Charles seeing him not as Erik, killed him. It felt as if the Erik Charles could no longer knew, was lost. The Erik that sometimes lay besides him at night, and traced his fingers over Charles’ knee, appreciating the tiny scars and knots left from some nasty bike crash twenty years ago, would soon be died if he kept talking to this Charles. “Really, I can.”
This is a little short but I thought it was good point to stop. Please tell me what you think. :)
The devil won by Erik turned out to be the most useful. And as he sat in front of the fire he felt like he should pat his back or something else figurative and congratulatory. Except a glass of scotch or a expensive cigar wouldn’t solve there current problem. A strange problem, and possibly life changing.
“Charles, would you like some more ice cream?” Raven pried the icebox open before he even nodded his head. Two days after the beach, and Raven was sure if his brother was insane. One day after disbelieve set it, and she was hoping for him to say, “gotcha ya, wasn’t I hilarious for feigning mental illness during a potentially catastrophic human even.” She handed him the bowl. “Well, of course you do.”
“Thank you,” Charles said severely. Always a polite kid. Then messily brought the spoon that his hand fisted around to his wide open face. Raven shook her head, before turning to the sink that reflected her blue form. “Have I done something wrong?”
She felt ridged when she turned to answer, “no, of course not.”
“Than why is everyone not wanna be around me?” If this was Charles, well, the Charles of now, she would say ‘what, can’t read minds?’.
Actually, she was unsure if in this state that was possible.
“Well, it’s cause they are all busy.” True, to some degree. Hank was busy trying to decipher brain scans, Sean was busy trying to find drugs to sedate current events, Alex had been around but unsure of how to talk to children, and well, Erik, was busy avoiding the situation. Raven sat down next to him at the dinning table. “We have had a long week.”
“Oh,” Charles nodded, but then pouted. “Can we play later, or are you going to be busy?”
It broke her heart. “Of course not. We can go outside, and play games.”
She brushed back a few toughs of hair that seemed to never behave behind her brother's ear. "Don't worry. Will figure this out."
Before the now aggressive CIA knows of their weak mental wall. "I promise."
Before Erik decides that he really is the prince of all things soft and pseudo-human, as well, as hard and metal.
The Professor was under the impression that they were some strange, and sort of funky looking, family that he just couldn’t remember. And that he was eight. Was this funny or tragic, Sean couldn’t decide.
“So, Prof-Charles, would you like to throw some ball?” Charles light up. Sean felt bad. It was sort of his fault. The two days after the beach, the situation had been a bit freaky, and a little awkward. But really, it wasn’t Charles fault that all of a sudden he had some sort of strange mental relapse. Probably some telepath thing, but couldn’t be sure. Sean wasn’t too familiar with these things.
He handed him a baseball glove. Uncertainty, followed by Charles shrugging, and the glove was now a mystery. Sean never thought that he would know how awkward showing a thirtyish man who believed he was eight how to put on a baseball glove. Now he was a man of knowledge. “It’s like this. Ah, yeah. You got it now. Run over there.” Charles ran wobbly, and unrestrained about twenty feet away. “Okay, now to the wild part. You gotta catch it.” Tossing it up, Sean watched as Charles positioned himself under he ball. “You gotta be good at this if you Brit really wanna be full blooded American.” A cracking noise. The ball had hit Charles smack on the forehead.
Sean ran through the lawn shouting, “Big boys don’t cry.”
Sometimes Charles is frightened of the silent figure in the library. Maybe is was the way that the man insisted on staring, or more likely that whenever Charles would try to sneak around him to get to the fiction section big hands would handle and adjust his face until once again all Charles could see were raised eyebrows, and light wrinkles.
“Why don’t you come over here.” Charles is caught. Not a practically rebellious child-man, when the phantom of the library summons he answers the call. Sitting silently at the feet of the wooden table, he dared not look up at the stone face that was staring so harshly. “Do you not remember me at all?”
Charles shakes his head. No. It’s no lie. Would a boy not remember the boogie man under the bed? Especially now when the boogie man had a real name, and claimed to be your bestest friend in the entire world.
“Can you not speak?” Charles shakes his head no. “Say it.”
The man’s breath smelt like alcohol. Charles is very familiar with that scent. It reminds him of his mommie. Raven tells him his mommie is no longer there. He hears Raven say that she’s dead in that voice that does not come from her mouth. That voice is something he hears from everyone, and they all want to know about it. Charles plays dumb, scared that they are scared.
“Please just answer me.” It’s not a sob. Men don’t cry, cause Charles knows that big boys don’t cry. “Just talk, Charles.”
So Charles tells him everything is going to be okay, cause that’s what the man is begging him to say in that whisper so quiet only he can hear. Promises made, the man seems worse off. “Would you like to play checkers?”
A grin that seems off, “Do you know how to play chess?”
“No. It’s the one with the knights and queens and castles, right?”
“And kings, bishops, and soldiers.” Erik stands up and takes the board already waiting for players off the shelf. “I’ll teach you. I have a feeling you’ll be good.”
Charles nod. “Me too. My mom says I’m good at games.”
“Don’t get cocky now.” A real smile, and Charles knows that the monster is really a shark king just waiting for someone to ask him to play a game.
As a genius, Hank knows a lot of things. Not just remember, but can manipulate all sort of information. Brain-scans tell him nothing. An ultrasound just ends up annoying to his newly developed animal ears, and end up turning up normal. As a scientist, yes, he know being obtuse for getting frustrated. Being wrong just gets him closer to being right. But as a doctor it’s hard. As a friend, it’s almost disturbing.
“There’s no physical cause that I have yet to detect.” Breaking it to Raven was hard, she cried. Breaking it to Erik was frightening, he just frowned. “It seems to be a psychological reaction due to trauma, maybe even something to do with his mutation. If we could somehow find some sort of psychologist, maybe, but without someone to wipe the mind afterwards-”
“So, he snapped?” The transformation had left Hank’s tongue unfortunately like sandpaper, but his speech seemed intact to him.
“Well, yes, in more or less words.” Hank doesn’t like Erik. Violence, rage, aggression, and action in general aren’t his thing being the passive, gentlemen beast. Hank respects Erik. He sees sharp eyes that seem something like intelligence. An intelligence he doesn’t quite understand. One gained through actions, not words. But right now, none of that was present. Just a dull look of a shock that kills thoughts. “Look Erik, we can’t handle this. We need to get help. Moria knows some people who can keep-”
“No, humans.” It’s weak. No conviction. “Maybe, Beast, if you talk to him you could-”
“I know nothing of the mind, Erik. It’s more complicated than just talking him out of it. There could be trigger words, or certain images that could make him withdraw. His mutation could of created layers of mental blokes. I’m sorry, Erik. But if you can’t get him real help, then all we have is time and patience.”
Alik is a very patient person. A few months in solitary confinement, and years in and out of the system does that to a person. But being told that he was going to have to assist the Prof with all the little necessities of life that a seven year old can’t perform without supervision was crossing the line.
“It’s just for a few days,” Raven says. “Just until we can sort things out with Moira. And well, Beast is busy in the lab, and Sean is well-” a hamster killer and a dope fiend. “And Erik does not want to ask Angel, or any of them back into the house. I can’t take him myself.”
He agrees, only cause he knows how shitty Raven must feel not being able to be there for Charles.
“Alik?” Charles says for the tenth time. “Alik?”
“What the hell you want?”
It comes out harsh, but Charles doesn’t seem to notice. The Prof is still the Prof, even if he’s a twenty year younger version. “Uh, could you please read this to me?”
The book he hands over is thick, and the title is almost unbearably dole and British. “Can’t you read yourself?”
Charles nods. All his gestures are childish now, and sometimes Alik has to stop himself from laughing at the man a little taller than himself. “Since I was-” Not quite counting on his fingers, he pauses to calculate the only seven years apparent to his mind. “Four.”
“Than why do I have to read it?”
Charles ears redden, and frowns. Embarrassing him, Alik feels a little guilty. “I like it when I can hear it.”
“Oh.”
He whispers, “So I can tell the difference between these-” Charles points to his temple. “And those.”
Bathtime is a totally surreal experience. Especially when Charles fights him the first time, swearing he didn’t need one, and that he’d take on tomorrow. Reminding a almost thirty year old to brush his teeth, or to eat dinner before ice cream, or to wash his hands, or that is was okay to sometimes read Alik’s thoughts instead of listen to what he was saying, was becoming routine.
Sometimes Beast helped. At first Alik was mad that Raven hadn’t had asked him instead. Beast seemed so much more capable at this sort of thing. Or at least more sensitive, considering lanky, awkward Hank was somewhere in that blue.
Than came the moment where Beast of infinitely embarrassed by Charles wondering why he all of sudden had grown man parts, instead of boys. An hour of a very scientific explanation of puberty was brought on, and ended with a Charles more confused than before.
Because Beast was still Hank, Raven had asked him.
Alik just thanked god that at least Charles hadn’t reverted into some pre-potty trained remnant of himself.
Erik wonders why he can’t comprehend Raven’s ease at handle this situation. Maturity must come and go. It took along time for him to get a grip. Maybe it’s just different for him, as he see Charles in a way different light than in the brotherly way Raven handles him.
“I’m happy he doesn’t remember me.” Raven says.
Erik agrees, but stays unemotional behind the wheel. “ Why?”
“I’m his little sister. It’s selfish but I wouldn’t want to change that.” She’s not blue right now, and her blonde hair reflects the sun. Than she asks for approval, “ya know?”
“I can understand.” Erik knows. Charles seeing him not as Erik, killed him. It felt as if the Erik Charles could no longer knew, was lost. The Erik that sometimes lay besides him at night, and traced his fingers over Charles’ knee, appreciating the tiny scars and knots left from some nasty bike crash twenty years ago, would soon be died if he kept talking to this Charles. “Really, I can.”
This is a little short but I thought it was good point to stop. Please tell me what you think. :)