Chapter 1
The bell rang, alerting the students that there were only five minutes left to talk with their friends in the hallway before their next class began. A couple of students entered the science lab early, although it was with some reluctance. The class could be fun on occasion, but there was really only so much a man could do to make chemical formulas interesting to teenagers.
Nevertheless, he did try.
A lanky young man with oddly dark sunglasses was the first student to enter the classroom. He was nearly as tall as his instructor, and he had dark auburn hair with a matching tan earned by way of outdoor sports rather than hours of sun bathing. The school was still relatively new, and he had been one of the very first students.
His name was Scott Summers.
He was a clean-cut, all-American young man; he could have been an all-star quarterback for a professional football team or the President of the United States. Either dream was as easy to accomplish for him as the other.
He could have been, under different circumstances. Yet, with the world the way it was, they would remain just that: dreams.
A few steps behind him was his lovely girlfriend. Her hair was as red as a crackling fire, her only outstanding physical feature. She had bright green eyes and a peaches and cream complexion, complete with a subtle dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Her name was Jean Grey, a student of equal potential to Scott. They both greeted the teacher, who stood at the blackboard, and took their seats next to each other at a lab table. The rest of the students wandered in after the final bell and prepared themselves for another physics lesson with Mr. Lehnsherr.
He turned to face them, ready to educate. He was an intelligent man, and that simple fact seemed to radiate from him. He looked as intelligent as he was. Nearly six feet tall, he had a bold physique that contrasted with his charismatic personality. His head was crowned with dark hair that swept back off his face. His angular features complimented his glacial blue eyes and thin, cleverly smirking mouth.
Lehnsherr cocked an eyebrow at one of his students.
"Mr. Worthington, please discard that bubble gum. Thank you." The young man he had addressed did as he was told.
While Warren was walking across the room, trying not to knock anything over with the angelic wings that grew from his back, the teacher noticed a new presence in his class.
In the very back, at the table closest to the door, sat what appeared to be nothing more than a pile of clothes. The student-whoever it was- was wearing layer upon layer of clothing, despite the warm weather outside the school windows. Quite odd, but it was obvious that the student did not want any attention drawn to itself, so he decided to ask Charles about it later.
At the moment, there was a room filled with students that needed to be taught.
*****^^^^^*****
"All right, everyone, good work. Remember to study the vocabulary notes for the test on Monday." He reminded the students as they filed out the door. His mystery student was the first one out; he had missed his chance at introductions. He glanced at his watch. He still had time to meet Charles before he gave his next class.
Charles Xavier organized the papers on his large oak desk. Looking over them, he entered the new enrollment information into his computer. A faint "ping-ping-ping" sound chimed on the corner of his desk. It seemed as if his paperclips had suddenly decided to start spinning and dancing of their own accord.
Sighing, he looked at his wristwatch; the hands were spinning backwards.
He was not terribly concerned, of course. He had seen these little tricks before. Rather than gasp in amazement, he simply recognized it as the tell tale sign that Eric was close by. It seemed that he would forever be correcting his watch hands as one of the more annoying side effects of his friend's power.
He didn't even blink an eye when the double doors opened on their own, and Eric entered his office.
"Good afternoon, Eric. How has your day been so far?" he asked his friend.
Eric took a seat across from Charles, on the other side of his desk. "It was all right, the students are progressing." He looked at his colleague and friend, fully expecting an explanation, but Charles simply sat back and shrugged.
"Charles, we both know why I am here, so why not just tell me?" Charles smiled at his friend's usual directness.
"Well, since you asked," he laughed, "The new student you are so curious about is somewhat of a mystery to me as well. It is a female, but she declined to offer any important details other than her name."
Eric urged him on, "Tell me that at least, won't you?" Charles clicked an icon on his computer screen and read a few lines. "Oh, here we are. The only name she would give me was Mystique. It sounds made up; she's probably another runaway, but it's best that she's here rather than on the streets, especially with her mutation."
Eric considered the new information. "What kind of mutation does she have?"
Charles shook his head. "I'm not sure of the exact abilities, but I'm positive that it's a purely physical manifestation. I entered her mind for a quick glance, and I saw what she looks like under all those layers of clothes."
To emphasize his point, Charles projected the image into his friend's mind. Patchy blue and creamy skin...red streaked hair...eyes fading from blue to yellow...Eric nodded, understanding. "Well, she was very withdrawn today. She didn't even alert me to her presence, she's probably worried about the other students' reactions. Perhaps in time she will open up."
Charles agreed. "Yes, Eric, I'm sure she will; especially with you as her mentor."
*****^^^^^*****
Eric left Charles's office with a handshake and went on to teach the rest of his classes for the day. The new student, Mystique, had nearly faded from his memory by nightfall. He had been setting out his lesson plan in his bedroom, and accessing his computer that night, when he checked his messages and found that Charles had sent him the information on Mystique.
His interest piqued, he pulled up the file.
There was no useful information. Her name: Mystique, no last name. Height: 5'7" Enrollment time: 7:30 am. Age: 19. Her weight, of course, was left blank. Eric rolled his eyes. Typical American woman, always so concerned with such petty details of themselves.
It went on, Mutation: Abilities not confirmed, suspected as physical. It did not reveal her birth date, family information or where she came from. This meant she was a runaway who did not want to be found. 'Yes, I will help that poor girl. To think, being a runaway in a time like this! It is far too dangerous for anyone to be on the streets. Hmm, Mystique, Mystique. I suspect that you hide many secrets, girl, and I will learn them all.' He thought as he closed her file.
*****^^^^^*****
Eric had kept an eye on Mystique for the next several days, yet he had not approached her. While he was up in his bedroom, he had seen her through his window. Still bundled in her layers upon layers, she seemed to be hiding behind a small grove of trees from a group of passing students.
He frowned, thinking how lonely her life must be. What he had seen spurred him on, he had decided to at least try to talk to her today.
He addressed the class, "Now if you studied then I'm sure you did fine. You're free to go, enjoy your weekend." He saw Mystique rise, and called after her. "Um, Mystique, I'd like you to stay after a minute."
She turned to face him, and for a split second, he thought that he saw a reflection of yellow, like a cat's eyes shine back at him from under her sweatshirt hood. It was gone in an instant, and he dismissed it from his mind.
She sat back down in her seat, and he sat down across from her. The silence between them was uneasy, and he thought it best to make small talk. "So how do you like your classes so far?"
When she spoke, her voice was almost echoing into his ears. 'It must be part of her mutation', he thought as he tried to concentrate on what she said, rather than the sound of it. "They're fine."
"That's good...so, how long have you been enrolled here?"
"A week."
"A week already? Aren't you homesick?"
"No." she bit out. He had seemed to strike a chord with her when he mentioned her home, and decided to prod just a little further. "You must be just a little homesick, almost all of the students here start to miss their families within the first month."
He saw Mystique's concealed frame stiffen, "No, not me, I don't have a family to miss."
Eric had not been expecting her to say that, and he could relate to the pain in her voice. "I'm sorry, Mystique. I should have known better than to ask about such personal matters." He paused, considering his next words carefully. " I think that it's important for you to know that we can be your family... but only if you let us."
The young woman still had her guard up, she wasn't used to this sort of kindness, and it made her uncomfortable. "Thanks, but I'll be fine on my own." Eric knew that it was time to back off.
"Okay, but if you change your mind, that offer will still be on the table." His last statement seemed to reach her in some small way.
Her voice was tight and forced, "Thank you."
So it went for the next few weeks, Mystique would stay after class without Eric even having to ask her. They would talk for a few precious minutes before she went to her next lesson. He hadn't learned anything groundbreaking about her past, but she had begun to trust him. She had even revealed to him the reason she wore so many layers of clothes.
One day, his curiosity had simply gotten the best of him, and he decided to ask her. "Mystique, why are you here?" the question was simple and direct, she'd have no way to avoid it.
She was quiet for nearly a full minute before she finally reacted. "It...I don't know, it just kind of happened over night, I just woke up and I didn't look like me anymore..." Her words had failed her, so she elected to show him what she was trying to communicate.
She pulled off a glove, and showed him her bare hand.
It was a humanoid hand: four fingers and an opposable thumb. Her digits were slender, tipped with feminine nails. The only difference between her hand and his own was the coloring. While his skin was the more commonplace cream color of a white man's, her skin had somehow taken on a deep indigo shade. The top of her hand was also decorated by what looked like raised, reflective scales.
Eric looked back to her; she was hanging her head in shame. It was obvious that she fully expected his revulsion. He smiled sadly, she must have been so frightened when she woke up and saw how her body had changed. He covered her hand with his own to give her some measure of comfort when he heard her choking, hitching sounds of crying.
He removed his hand when she calmed down a little, and cried out, "What on earth?" her hand was now an exact replica of his own!
"I can do that sometimes," Mystique began to explain, "If I concentrate hard enough, I can change into other people. But not forever, I have to change back into myself after a while."
As he watched, her hand changed back into its original state. Before he could respond, Jean barged into his classroom. "Mr. Lehnsherr, there's something you should see downstairs!"
He and Mystique followed her downstairs to the rec room, where a large gathering of the oldest students were watching a televised senatorial debate. As usual, the topic du jour was over mutant rights.
Robert Kelley declared, "Mutants are nothing if not unpredictable, dangerous and untrustworthy. They should not be allowed to teach impressionable young human minds, nor be treated in the same hospitals."
Eric's blood boiled.
He had heard this argument before, in his native Poland. It was because of a similar fear of the unknown that he had lost his parents, his sister and all of his childhood friends. He had nearly died from starvation in a concentration camp. That cruelty, that horror...Senator Kelley was proposing separation of mutant and humans. He knew that if the law passed and mutants were separated, it would be that much easier for them to be targeted for hate crimes.
Suddenly, he could hear no more, he needed some air, and went outside. He shoved past the other students and teachers, nearly ripping the door off its hinges with his power. Mystique had seen him leave, and silently, she followed him.
Her eyes searched the dark campus, but it was her ears that found him. Strange, completely alien sounds of an unknown language could be heard, almost growled in a furious voice.
She followed the voice until she found him, pacing angrily back and forth in the garden. She had never seen him angry before; she was startled, but not afraid. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, but the harsh words on the television had greatly upset him. Cautiously, she spoke.
"Mr. Lehnsherr, I'm sorry about Senator Kelley."
Obviously, he had assumed that he was alone. He spun around to face her, and after a moment, he sighed. "Mystique, you have nothing to apologize for. This is a burden that your generation should not have to carry. If Charles would just stop holding me back, all of this hatred would soon be a distant memory!" he ground out. Charles was his friend, but the man simply did not want to realize what has already begun.
He looked back at Mystique. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burst out like that. I just wish to change the way things are for our kind. Mutants have far too little support in the world. If Senator Kelley were to reverse his position, then I'm sure things would be better for all of us."
Mystique nodded, silent.
"I've seen this before, you know, in Europe. We shouldn't have to be subjected to this kind of abuse. We're better than that!" He spat angrily.
"You can't change people's minds, Mr. Lehnsherr. But maybe the Professor could." Mystique said from behind him.
Eric noticed that her voice had deepened and he turned to look at her again. She had changed her face and her voice to match Charles exactly. Eric's brow furrowed, "What do you have in mind?"
Neither one of them could have known that their futures were going to be shaped that night.
The bell rang, alerting the students that there were only five minutes left to talk with their friends in the hallway before their next class began. A couple of students entered the science lab early, although it was with some reluctance. The class could be fun on occasion, but there was really only so much a man could do to make chemical formulas interesting to teenagers.
Nevertheless, he did try.
A lanky young man with oddly dark sunglasses was the first student to enter the classroom. He was nearly as tall as his instructor, and he had dark auburn hair with a matching tan earned by way of outdoor sports rather than hours of sun bathing. The school was still relatively new, and he had been one of the very first students.
His name was Scott Summers.
He was a clean-cut, all-American young man; he could have been an all-star quarterback for a professional football team or the President of the United States. Either dream was as easy to accomplish for him as the other.
He could have been, under different circumstances. Yet, with the world the way it was, they would remain just that: dreams.
A few steps behind him was his lovely girlfriend. Her hair was as red as a crackling fire, her only outstanding physical feature. She had bright green eyes and a peaches and cream complexion, complete with a subtle dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
Her name was Jean Grey, a student of equal potential to Scott. They both greeted the teacher, who stood at the blackboard, and took their seats next to each other at a lab table. The rest of the students wandered in after the final bell and prepared themselves for another physics lesson with Mr. Lehnsherr.
He turned to face them, ready to educate. He was an intelligent man, and that simple fact seemed to radiate from him. He looked as intelligent as he was. Nearly six feet tall, he had a bold physique that contrasted with his charismatic personality. His head was crowned with dark hair that swept back off his face. His angular features complimented his glacial blue eyes and thin, cleverly smirking mouth.
Lehnsherr cocked an eyebrow at one of his students.
"Mr. Worthington, please discard that bubble gum. Thank you." The young man he had addressed did as he was told.
While Warren was walking across the room, trying not to knock anything over with the angelic wings that grew from his back, the teacher noticed a new presence in his class.
In the very back, at the table closest to the door, sat what appeared to be nothing more than a pile of clothes. The student-whoever it was- was wearing layer upon layer of clothing, despite the warm weather outside the school windows. Quite odd, but it was obvious that the student did not want any attention drawn to itself, so he decided to ask Charles about it later.
At the moment, there was a room filled with students that needed to be taught.
*****^^^^^*****
"All right, everyone, good work. Remember to study the vocabulary notes for the test on Monday." He reminded the students as they filed out the door. His mystery student was the first one out; he had missed his chance at introductions. He glanced at his watch. He still had time to meet Charles before he gave his next class.
Charles Xavier organized the papers on his large oak desk. Looking over them, he entered the new enrollment information into his computer. A faint "ping-ping-ping" sound chimed on the corner of his desk. It seemed as if his paperclips had suddenly decided to start spinning and dancing of their own accord.
Sighing, he looked at his wristwatch; the hands were spinning backwards.
He was not terribly concerned, of course. He had seen these little tricks before. Rather than gasp in amazement, he simply recognized it as the tell tale sign that Eric was close by. It seemed that he would forever be correcting his watch hands as one of the more annoying side effects of his friend's power.
He didn't even blink an eye when the double doors opened on their own, and Eric entered his office.
"Good afternoon, Eric. How has your day been so far?" he asked his friend.
Eric took a seat across from Charles, on the other side of his desk. "It was all right, the students are progressing." He looked at his colleague and friend, fully expecting an explanation, but Charles simply sat back and shrugged.
"Charles, we both know why I am here, so why not just tell me?" Charles smiled at his friend's usual directness.
"Well, since you asked," he laughed, "The new student you are so curious about is somewhat of a mystery to me as well. It is a female, but she declined to offer any important details other than her name."
Eric urged him on, "Tell me that at least, won't you?" Charles clicked an icon on his computer screen and read a few lines. "Oh, here we are. The only name she would give me was Mystique. It sounds made up; she's probably another runaway, but it's best that she's here rather than on the streets, especially with her mutation."
Eric considered the new information. "What kind of mutation does she have?"
Charles shook his head. "I'm not sure of the exact abilities, but I'm positive that it's a purely physical manifestation. I entered her mind for a quick glance, and I saw what she looks like under all those layers of clothes."
To emphasize his point, Charles projected the image into his friend's mind. Patchy blue and creamy skin...red streaked hair...eyes fading from blue to yellow...Eric nodded, understanding. "Well, she was very withdrawn today. She didn't even alert me to her presence, she's probably worried about the other students' reactions. Perhaps in time she will open up."
Charles agreed. "Yes, Eric, I'm sure she will; especially with you as her mentor."
*****^^^^^*****
Eric left Charles's office with a handshake and went on to teach the rest of his classes for the day. The new student, Mystique, had nearly faded from his memory by nightfall. He had been setting out his lesson plan in his bedroom, and accessing his computer that night, when he checked his messages and found that Charles had sent him the information on Mystique.
His interest piqued, he pulled up the file.
There was no useful information. Her name: Mystique, no last name. Height: 5'7" Enrollment time: 7:30 am. Age: 19. Her weight, of course, was left blank. Eric rolled his eyes. Typical American woman, always so concerned with such petty details of themselves.
It went on, Mutation: Abilities not confirmed, suspected as physical. It did not reveal her birth date, family information or where she came from. This meant she was a runaway who did not want to be found. 'Yes, I will help that poor girl. To think, being a runaway in a time like this! It is far too dangerous for anyone to be on the streets. Hmm, Mystique, Mystique. I suspect that you hide many secrets, girl, and I will learn them all.' He thought as he closed her file.
*****^^^^^*****
Eric had kept an eye on Mystique for the next several days, yet he had not approached her. While he was up in his bedroom, he had seen her through his window. Still bundled in her layers upon layers, she seemed to be hiding behind a small grove of trees from a group of passing students.
He frowned, thinking how lonely her life must be. What he had seen spurred him on, he had decided to at least try to talk to her today.
He addressed the class, "Now if you studied then I'm sure you did fine. You're free to go, enjoy your weekend." He saw Mystique rise, and called after her. "Um, Mystique, I'd like you to stay after a minute."
She turned to face him, and for a split second, he thought that he saw a reflection of yellow, like a cat's eyes shine back at him from under her sweatshirt hood. It was gone in an instant, and he dismissed it from his mind.
She sat back down in her seat, and he sat down across from her. The silence between them was uneasy, and he thought it best to make small talk. "So how do you like your classes so far?"
When she spoke, her voice was almost echoing into his ears. 'It must be part of her mutation', he thought as he tried to concentrate on what she said, rather than the sound of it. "They're fine."
"That's good...so, how long have you been enrolled here?"
"A week."
"A week already? Aren't you homesick?"
"No." she bit out. He had seemed to strike a chord with her when he mentioned her home, and decided to prod just a little further. "You must be just a little homesick, almost all of the students here start to miss their families within the first month."
He saw Mystique's concealed frame stiffen, "No, not me, I don't have a family to miss."
Eric had not been expecting her to say that, and he could relate to the pain in her voice. "I'm sorry, Mystique. I should have known better than to ask about such personal matters." He paused, considering his next words carefully. " I think that it's important for you to know that we can be your family... but only if you let us."
The young woman still had her guard up, she wasn't used to this sort of kindness, and it made her uncomfortable. "Thanks, but I'll be fine on my own." Eric knew that it was time to back off.
"Okay, but if you change your mind, that offer will still be on the table." His last statement seemed to reach her in some small way.
Her voice was tight and forced, "Thank you."
So it went for the next few weeks, Mystique would stay after class without Eric even having to ask her. They would talk for a few precious minutes before she went to her next lesson. He hadn't learned anything groundbreaking about her past, but she had begun to trust him. She had even revealed to him the reason she wore so many layers of clothes.
One day, his curiosity had simply gotten the best of him, and he decided to ask her. "Mystique, why are you here?" the question was simple and direct, she'd have no way to avoid it.
She was quiet for nearly a full minute before she finally reacted. "It...I don't know, it just kind of happened over night, I just woke up and I didn't look like me anymore..." Her words had failed her, so she elected to show him what she was trying to communicate.
She pulled off a glove, and showed him her bare hand.
It was a humanoid hand: four fingers and an opposable thumb. Her digits were slender, tipped with feminine nails. The only difference between her hand and his own was the coloring. While his skin was the more commonplace cream color of a white man's, her skin had somehow taken on a deep indigo shade. The top of her hand was also decorated by what looked like raised, reflective scales.
Eric looked back to her; she was hanging her head in shame. It was obvious that she fully expected his revulsion. He smiled sadly, she must have been so frightened when she woke up and saw how her body had changed. He covered her hand with his own to give her some measure of comfort when he heard her choking, hitching sounds of crying.
He removed his hand when she calmed down a little, and cried out, "What on earth?" her hand was now an exact replica of his own!
"I can do that sometimes," Mystique began to explain, "If I concentrate hard enough, I can change into other people. But not forever, I have to change back into myself after a while."
As he watched, her hand changed back into its original state. Before he could respond, Jean barged into his classroom. "Mr. Lehnsherr, there's something you should see downstairs!"
He and Mystique followed her downstairs to the rec room, where a large gathering of the oldest students were watching a televised senatorial debate. As usual, the topic du jour was over mutant rights.
Robert Kelley declared, "Mutants are nothing if not unpredictable, dangerous and untrustworthy. They should not be allowed to teach impressionable young human minds, nor be treated in the same hospitals."
Eric's blood boiled.
He had heard this argument before, in his native Poland. It was because of a similar fear of the unknown that he had lost his parents, his sister and all of his childhood friends. He had nearly died from starvation in a concentration camp. That cruelty, that horror...Senator Kelley was proposing separation of mutant and humans. He knew that if the law passed and mutants were separated, it would be that much easier for them to be targeted for hate crimes.
Suddenly, he could hear no more, he needed some air, and went outside. He shoved past the other students and teachers, nearly ripping the door off its hinges with his power. Mystique had seen him leave, and silently, she followed him.
Her eyes searched the dark campus, but it was her ears that found him. Strange, completely alien sounds of an unknown language could be heard, almost growled in a furious voice.
She followed the voice until she found him, pacing angrily back and forth in the garden. She had never seen him angry before; she was startled, but not afraid. She knew he wouldn't hurt her, but the harsh words on the television had greatly upset him. Cautiously, she spoke.
"Mr. Lehnsherr, I'm sorry about Senator Kelley."
Obviously, he had assumed that he was alone. He spun around to face her, and after a moment, he sighed. "Mystique, you have nothing to apologize for. This is a burden that your generation should not have to carry. If Charles would just stop holding me back, all of this hatred would soon be a distant memory!" he ground out. Charles was his friend, but the man simply did not want to realize what has already begun.
He looked back at Mystique. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to burst out like that. I just wish to change the way things are for our kind. Mutants have far too little support in the world. If Senator Kelley were to reverse his position, then I'm sure things would be better for all of us."
Mystique nodded, silent.
"I've seen this before, you know, in Europe. We shouldn't have to be subjected to this kind of abuse. We're better than that!" He spat angrily.
"You can't change people's minds, Mr. Lehnsherr. But maybe the Professor could." Mystique said from behind him.
Eric noticed that her voice had deepened and he turned to look at her again. She had changed her face and her voice to match Charles exactly. Eric's brow furrowed, "What do you have in mind?"
Neither one of them could have known that their futures were going to be shaped that night.