Contemplation. (Lamo title, I know.)

Laura Pierson (sargenjaz@yahoo.com)

The following story really has nothing to do with continuity in the
comics, and you know? I really don't care. This is a small scene where
Joseph and Charles Xavier talk. And of course Joseph, Charles, and
Rogue are all owned by Marvel Comics Entertainment Group, so mind your
manners.


     The breeze rustled the leaves of the trees on the opposite side of
the lake first. Limbs almost hidden by the greenery bent with the
unseen force and at that distance the whole group shimmered with
various hues of emerald. But as the trees could hardly stop it, the
breeze passed over the lake itself, making the deep waters ripple. The
scent of possible rain, trees, water... It all washed over him as he
stood at the shore of that lake. The wind brushed over his skin,
caressing his closed eyelids as the water splashed quietly before his
feet. Joseph slowly spread his arms, as if seeking to embrace the
wind. Then staying to play a while, the breeze pulled his hair away
from his head, making it stream out behind him. The sensation brought
goose bumps to his skin and he closed his hands into fists in response.
     And then the breeze was gone. It continued on its invisible path,
making the trees behind him sway - shimmering in the light of the
dying sun.
     Joseph drew in a deep breath slowly, then let it sigh outwards as he 
lowered his arms to his sides. The hands did not unclench. This was
the only time when things felt right. When he was alone and the world
was quiet. When his worries didn't press down upon him as badly. Then
of course as his thoughts circled back to this fact all those worries
flooded into his mind. Shoulders sagging he opened his eyes finally
and lowered his face until he was able to see his feet. Booted in
yellow, for he wore the uniform of the X-men, his toes were bare
inches away from the break off of where grass stopped and water began.
That self-same liquid was making pleasant noises as it lipped that
division line with small waves. Here on the shore the water appeared
far paler than that in the middle of the lake. The shallowness allowed
the pale stone beneath those waves to show through. Joseph remembered
something somewhere about how workmen had been hired to lay this
gravel so that erosion wouldn't effect the edge of the lake so badly.
How he knew this he didn't know.
     Looking down at his boots he couldn't help it and wiggled his toes.
As he couldn't see those digits, and his imagination supplied the
image of the action, his hands slowly relaxed and the hints of a smile
tugged at his lips, but it really wasn't able to blossom fully. Some
of the tension drained out of his muscles. He sighed again at the
release and this caused locks of his white hair to slip forward into
his eyes.
 A look of irritation flickered over his features as he focused a pair
of brilliant blue eyes on those locks. Any time he wasn't thinking
about it, and any time that it might prove to be irritating, this
happened. He just glared at the hair, however, not making any effort
to move it. Then memories of Rogue came to the forefront. He
remembered almost nothing of his time before, but Rogue dominated
nearly all his memories of the present. "Let me get that, Sugar." Eyes
closing once more her face came into focus against black inner lids.
She had to stand up on her toes to be able to bring her face so close
to his own for he towered over her in height. He had gone very still
at the contact, and could feel her warm, sweet breath as it flowed
over the skin of his jaw. "Thank you." He had murmured, having no idea
of what else to say. And then she settled back down onto her heels,
smiling up at him. "Yoh welcome." Her voice was soft and incredibly
seductive even though she never seemed to know the effect it had on
the men around her. It's thick Southern accent only furthered this
appearance for it softened all words. And those green eyes... 
 Opening his own once more he looked out across the water. Without his
memories he didn't even know adequate words to be able to describe the
color of her fabulous eyes. The color was compelling in so many ways. 
 He turned from the water then in frustration. That color also made
him feel so foolish at times. He just didn't know what to do in so
many situations. He was expected to be able to know all of the things
an adult took for granted. With a grump of confusion, combined with
his agitation, Joseph crossed his arms and gave the boat house a look
it simply didn't deserve. Then, as he moved, his new uniform rubbed at
a spot it had rubbed nearly raw in the last few days. Wincing he
looked down at the spot, boat house and Rogue momentarily forgotten,
to be able to rub at it.
 This uniform should have been uncomfortable when he first started
wearing it, but for some reason it simply hadn't been; beyond the one
spot. That's not to say he felt completely comfortable in it. His mind
searched for a word that would describe what he felt and as it had
done so many times in the past few months it failed him. The uniform
just felt odd. Almost like it wasn't heavy enough. Brushing absently
at his wayward hair, Joseph guessed that the body remembered even if
the mind did not. He was used to wearing a skin tight uniform akin to
what he wore now, but the old one had to weigh much more. Maybe Rogue
would actually answer this question.
 Joseph found himself sighing again. Rogue was the only one he felt he
could really get along with, and yet even she wouldn't answer his
questions. Didn't she understand just how much he really needed the
answers? No, he told himself, he was sure she did not. Or, perhaps she
did, but didn't want to risk his learning. He didn't know which hurt
more.
 Body tensing all over again, Joseph raised his hands once more and
with the briefest of thoughts summoned his power. From all around him
the very air seemed to ripple, and his sight shifted from the normal
spectrum into one only he knew. Now the world was something far beyond
normal for it was full of energy. The only thing he could compare it
to was life itself for the things that were alive glowed with shifting
colors - of which humans made the brightest. Everything seemed to make
sense when he looked at the world this way. Sometimes he wondered why
he didn't use it more.
 Then he gathered the electricity in the air to his breast and held it
there. If someone could have seen him at that moment Joseph's tall
form was surrounded by tiny specs of vivid blue lights. Electricity
played in the air around him; flashing briefly in it's bright hue,
making a soft crackle as it flared. It pulled the hair away from his
head to give it a seeming life of it's own as it flowed outwards,
highlighted by bursts of blue.
 Leaning back his head, Joseph reveled in the feeling for a while. His
eyes glowed softly with the force of what he was doing; the cobalt
orbs lit up from within with unspeakable power. That power rippled
through his very veins, or so it seemed to the man, and he struggled
to keep a soft sound of pleasure from escaping him. This felt so
incredibly right. The hair rising from his skin, and the electricity
flowing through him like fire... and then images of the past few weeks
rose to the surface. The faces of the X-men, watching him when they
thought he wasn't aware of it; looks of disgust, fear, and distrust
twisting their features. A chill took the place of that power, and it
shivered it's way down his spine. Pleasure was replaced by shame, and
the power drained away from him like water. After it was gone he was
left feeling profoundly empty.
     Those faces dominated his minds eye. Didn't they know he could see
them? Didn't they know just how much he noticed about his seemingly
new world? Didn't they know just how much each glance hurt? He lowered
his eyes until they came to rest on the palms of his open hands. Each
time he used his powers they watched him with fear. A fear he just
couldn't understand. It made him so incredibly ashamed of what he
could do. Like he was a criminal for his very existence. And in amid
the shame also rose an anger. His pride demanded to know why he had to
feel this way. What had he done to deserve it? Why wouldn't any one
tell him? "Why do I need to feel ashamed?" He demanded of the sky and
lake, all unknowingly stating this out loud.
     "Ashamed of what?" A quiet , male voice asked moments afterward. It
originated off to one side, away from the lake.
 Joseph spun towards the voice in startlement. Unknown to him cobalt
eyes brightened with the glow of his power. "Who?" He asked in a
demanding tone that was far sharper than he ever intended. And then
stopped just as sharply as he came to see who had spoken. The shame
rose once more in his heart and he struggled to understand why. A
slight blush crept into his cheeks.
     Charles Xavier sat not too far away, hands clasped in his blanket
covered lap. The hum of his floating chair almost unheard over the
lapping of waves against the shore. "Hello... Joseph." He said in that
same quiet voice, even though he did pause at the name. Joseph didn't
know why, but his name seemed to cause Charles trouble. In fact his
very being seemed to cause Charles trouble. It was simply another of
the thousands of questions he longed to ask. Alone of all the X-Men
Charles didn't look on Joseph with those expressions of fear and
loathing. He avoided Joseph with the regularity of the others, but
Charles looked upon Joseph with feelings of shame. This time was no
different. Odd that Charles was asking him about shame when he so
obviously felt it himself.
 Charles was a man nearing the end of his sixties. Despite this, the
lack of any hair covering his shiny plate, and the chair he was bound
into for his useless legs, Charles was a very strong man and it showed
clearly in his serious blue eyes. His features spoke of experience.
Making an arrangement that lent itself towards trust. Even with his
bushy eyebrows that seemed determined to meet above his nose, and the
thin lips that had a tendency to frown when he wasn't aware of it,
Charles carried with him a calmness that hovered about him like a
miasma. It seeped into others and brought them into comfort. Today he
seemed to be lacking this.
 Drawing in a deep breath to try and calm himself, Joseph tried to
relax as he replied. "Hello, sir."
 Charles couldn't hide it as he winced at the sir, but he didn't look
away from the man who used to be a dear friend long ago. A friend that
now no longer remembered anything due to his own actions. "Ashamed of
what, Joseph?" he asked again.
 Joseph always found that with Charles he couldn't look away once he
met those pale eyes, and today was no exception. "My power." he found
himself answering honestly, and wondered what it was with Charles that
always made him do that. The crippled man before him always brought
out the oddest of emotions in Joseph. Respect... and even love,
although the young man didn't have any idea as to why. Whispers of
memory; reminders of the past.
     A frown brought Charles' brows together above his nose and he
regarded his life long friend and enemy for a time. "And what makes
you think you should be ashamed of your magnetism power?" He asked,
although he already knew why. Long fingered hands spread their fingers
and absently smoothed down the patterned blanket which covered his
thighs.
 Unable to hide his consternation anymore, Joseph motioned towards the
mansion that was only barely visible through the trees. "You already
know." He stated somewhat angrily. "They all avoid me like I've got
some grave sickness, and when they can't I get these looks of....
of..."  Joseph paused, struggling for the words he wanted, but could
no longer remember. "fear and disgust when they think I can't see it!
This only gets worse each time I use my powers. I want to know why!"
His voice turned pleading as he faced Charles fully and spread his
hands in entreaty.
     Charles, for the first time that Joseph could remember, looked away.
He turned to look out over the waters of the lake and for a time he
was quiet. Joseph too kept his silence and waited as patiently as he
could. "It is because of your past, Joseph." Charles said finally.
     "But I already know that." Joseph broke in before the seated man
could continue. "That they tell me, but I want, I need, to know
exactly what I've done. What this Magneto did." Drawing in a deep
breath he shook his white head, making his long hair sway gently. "How
can I expect to not make the mistakes of that past if no one will tell
me of it?" He turned his brilliant eyes on Charles, but the man was
still looking out over the water. With this Joseph made a frustrated
sound and turned to face the boat house. The poor building once again
received a look it had done nothing to deserve.
     "Calm yourself, Joseph." Charles chided gently as the air crackled
softly around the younger man.
     The words were like a spark from the past and the words rolled
through Joseph's mind bringing with them a ghost of a memory that was
fleeting, and all that much more frustrating. They did have the wanted
effect, however. Joseph lowered his gaze and the electricity ceased.
     Charles continued. "I am not sure if I can explain your past to you
at this time."
     Frowning, Joseph looked back to Charles. "Why?" he demanded,
sounding very much like the man he used to be, but Charles knew this
anger was from the confusion brought by what the young man was missing.
     "Because it is very personal to me, and I am not ready to share it
with you yet." Charles went on, his voice calm and his manner the
same. Finally he lifted his eyes to meet Joseph's. There was no fear
in them, only a great deal of sadness and shame. "There is something I
must work out for myself before I can explain anything to you. Forgive
me, but please try to be patient. I will explain when I can."
     The cry of a bird distracted Joseph for a moment, and he tracked
it's flight for a time. "So I am to be left in the dark, treated like
a stranger even by myself, and to always wonder if I am repeating
mistakes I can't remember making..." He said, voice lacking any real
emotion. The muscles in his shoulders tensed and he rolled them once
before meeting Charles' gaze again. "I see."'
     Charles watched the visible emotions in Joseph and struggled with
the pity in his own heart. As the young man gathered what was left of
his dignity around him like a cloak Charles said, "I am sorry, Joseph.
I pray you can forgive me once you know."
     It felt like a cold hand closed around his heart and Joseph
struggled with the pain, hurt, and loneliness for a moment. "We won't
know until it happens, will we?" Jaw firmly set, Joseph turned on his
heel and walked from the edge of the lake, unknowingly looking for all
the world like a king walking through his own court. Another breeze
came around and played through his silver hair, making it stream about
his head like a white halo. Charles could only sit and watch him go.
He could feel everything Joseph was feeling and it tore at his heart.
But how do you explain to a man that you were the one to tear his
memories out? You were the one who left him in this state, to be cast
out alone in the world without any idea of who and what he was? How
could he explain how he cast aside all his values to do something he
had at one time thought to be vile?
     Charles let loose his own sigh, simply watching Joseph go. Perhaps
someday he would find the courage to face what he had done and explain
to the man now calling himself Joseph that he was once Charles'
dearest friend, as well as the self proclaimed Master of Magnetism.
 As for Joseph himself he made his way down to the boathouse, not
quite willing to leave the lake even if he didn't want to remain near
Charles. He brushed at the strands of hair that were blowing about his
face and walked to the end of the wooden dock. Boot heels sounded very
loud when amplified by the water beneath, for the lapping of water was
quiet here. Wondering if he ever dared hope anymore, Joseph stopped at
the very edge of the dock and looked down into the water much like he
had at the edge of the lake.
 Sighing deeply he sank down until he was seated cross-legged on the
thick wooden slates. Dropping his hands, fingertips brushed over the
smooth wooden surface beneath him. In tracing the grain he found a
sort of peace for it allowed his mind to empty itself of troubles. No,
he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to forgive Charles for what
ever it was. There was no way to know until he learned what that
terrible thing was.
Head tilting to one side, a stray lock of hair falling across his
nose, Joseph followed the paths of his fingers. Where there was life,
there was hope. He didn't know where that stray thought came from, but
as it played over in his mind the man found he liked it more and more.
Lifting that cobalt gaze, Joseph tuned his eyes to the rippling waves
of the lake and smiled softly. No, he couldn't remember his past; and
perhaps the rest of the X-men were treating him something less than
best, but he was here, alive, and learning. It wouldn't be easy be any
means, but perhaps things could get better. Memories he didn't have,
but hope didn't require memory, and it even made the loss a little
easier.

==
Laura Pierson (hee!)  sargenjaz@yahoo.com or Magneto@enteract.com

Pietro shook Wanda off and tapped Joseph on the shoulder, 
"My name is Pietro Maximoff Lensherr. You are my father. 
Prepare to die."  

>From "A Match Made...?" by Jaelle and Orla.
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