Marvelous Meditations

Xavier leaned back in his chair, his fingers rhythmically tapping the armrest as he considered his words carefully. "At the Xavier Institute, we consider it our duty to guide troubled young mutants onto the right path," he began, his voice calm but resolute.

He paused, his gaze distant for a moment before locking onto Nathan's. "That said, Miss Walker presents unique challenges—ones that cannot be ignored. I will need to consult with my team before moving forward, and given the... risk factors associated with her, I cannot, in good conscience, bring her into the mansion itself."

Nathan tilted his head slightly, studying Xavier. The man's tone was measured, his resolve unmistakable.

"But," Xavier continued, his expression softening slightly, "you have my word: I will do everything in my power to help her. We'll find a solution—one that offers her a chance at recovery while minimizing harm to others."

Nathan's lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "And that's all I can ask for," he said. "Because, let's face it—if you can't help her, I doubt anyone else can."

Xavier returned the smile, albeit more faintly. "You flatter me, Mr. Cross," he replied. The humor in his voice was fleeting, however, as his expression grew serious once more. "Now then... I suppose it's time to return to the matter at hand?"

Nathan gave a curt nod, leaning back slightly in his chair. "I assume you already have an answer for me?"

Xavier studied him for a moment before speaking, his tone deliberate. "I do, for the most part," he admitted. "But there's one last concern—a final question that must be addressed before I proceed."

Nathan's brows lifted slightly, intrigued but guarded. "And what's that?"

Xavier's gaze was unyielding as he leaned forward, his hands clasped together. "Why are you doing this, really?" he asked, his voice gentle but piercing. "You've gone to great lengths to make your case—and taken considerable risks—to convince us to hire you as our security consultant. It's... unusual, to say the least. Dubious, even."

Nathan's lips curled into an amused grin, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "And you couldn't figure that out by simply reading my mind?" he asked, the challenge in his voice as clear as the smirk on his face.

Xavier's expression soured slightly, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. "Not for a lack of effort," he admitted, his tone carrying a rare edge. "The surface of your mind is an incomprehensible jumble of nonsensical thoughts. A constant barrage of disconnected images, sounds, and ideas... like a kaleidoscope that never stops spinning." He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. "It's uncanny. But I suspect you already knew that."

Nathan paused at the remark, genuinely caught off guard. For a moment, his cocky demeanor gave way to surprise.

It was a self-taught technique, one born from paranoia and necessity—a conscious effort to flood his mind with a cacophony of meaningless noise to confuse telepaths. It had taken over a decade to master, a grueling exercise in mental endurance.

Lesser telepaths he'd encountered before were easily thrown off, but he'd assumed Xavier, the world's most powerful telepath, would see through it like tissue paper.

Letting out a low, almost sheepish sigh, Nathan leaned back in his chair. "Honestly?" he began. "I didn't think that would work on you. I mean, you're Charles Xavier." He gestured vaguely, as if the name itself was explanation enough. "Then again…" His tone turned teasing. "I'm fairly sure you weren't trying all that hard."

Xavier's expression didn't change. He simply interlocked his fingers, resting them on his desk as he regarded Nathan with an unreadable look. "Perhaps, but you must understand I do not use my powers carelessly... if not for the precarious situation we found ourselves in, I wouldn't even attempt to touch the surface of your mind, never mind using more forceful methods..." he said evenly.

Nathan shrugged, unfazed by the response. "You don't need to explain Professor... I would have done the same." His smile returned, though this time it was more contained.

He leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. "But as for the why you're asking about…" His tone shifted, growing colder, sharper—like steel unsheathing. "It's rather simple, really."

The air in the room seemed to grow heavier as Nathan's expression hardened, his playful demeanor vanishing in an instant. "Ever since my discharge, I've had one goal. One mission." His eyes, sharp and unrelenting, locked onto Xavier's. "I've made it my personal crusade to hunt down and punish every single person responsible for Lily's death."

Xavier's brows furrowed slightly at the mention of the name.

Nathan ignored the question, his jaw tightening as he continued. "That's what gets me up in the morning. That's what keeps me moving." His voice was low and steady, but the intensity behind it was palpable, like a storm brewing just beneath the surface.

Xavier frowned, his calm demeanor tinged with concern. "And how," he began carefully, "does this crusade of yours relate to us?"

Nathan leaned back in his chair, his posture casual but his gaze sharp. Crossing his arms, he spoke with an even tone that belied the weight of his words. "The hit on Wolverine. It matches the M.O. of one of the men I'm hunting—Sebastian Shaw."

He shrugged as if brushing off the gravity of the situation, but his eyes betrayed the intensity behind the statement. "I'm hoping that by working with the X-Men, I can find a way to track him down and finally make him face the consequences of his actions."

Xavier's face darkened, his normally calm demeanor shadowed by a flicker of anger. "I should have expected Shaw and his so-called Inner Circle to be involved," he said, his voice carrying a rare edge. "Profiteers masquerading as aristocrats… They'll stop at nothing to further their own agendas, no matter the collateral damage."

He paused, his fingers steepled as he considered Nathan's words. "And you're certain it's him?"

Nathan shook his head, his expression grim. "I'd be lying if I said I was sure," he admitted. He let out a long sigh, the weariness of years spent chasing ghosts evident in the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly. "I don't have concrete proof. But… I know the Foreigner didn't take that hit on Wolverine for a payday. He told me as much."

Xavier raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "If not for payment, then why?"

Nathan leaned in as well, his voice lowering as if revealing a dangerous secret. "He didn't say, but the way I see it, it was a test," he said simply. "A way for him to prove his worth. To earn himself a seat at Shaw's Hellfire Club."

He straightened again, his tone growing bitter. "And it tracks. Shaw doesn't just let anyone into his little circle. You've gotta prove yourself first, and what better way than taking out one of the most dangerous mutants alive?"

Xavier's eyes narrowed in thought. "That's quite the theory," he said slowly. "But it's still just that—a theory. You're putting a lot of effort based on a series of assumptions."

Nathan winced at the words, a brief flash of frustration crossing his face. "What can I say? Assumptions are all I've got," he said, his voice tinged with resignation. "I've been looking into Shaw for years, Professor. This is the closest I've ever come to getting a lead on him, and I'm not about to let it slip through my fingers."

Xavier studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, his tone softening. "I suppose I can understand your reasoning," he said. "Though I'd caution you against placing too much stock in a single thread. What may seem like a trail could very well be a trap."

Nathan gave a small, humorless smile. "Believe me, I'm not blind to the possibility," he said. "But sometimes, you've gotta take the risk. Even if it's a long shot."

Xavier inclined his head, acknowledging the sentiment. "Very well," he said at last. "If Shaw truly is involved, then it's in all our interests to uncover the truth. But," he added, his tone growing firmer, "there will be conditions."

Nathan raised an eyebrow, curiosity sparking in his expression. "Conditions, huh? Alright, let's hear it."

Xavier's steady gaze didn't falter as he leaned forward slightly, his hands resting calmly on the armrests of his wheelchair. "There is one other role I'd like you to fulfill," he said evenly, his tone leaving little room for negotiation. "In addition to working as our security consultant, I want you to serve as a combat instructor for the younger members of the team."

Nathan blinked at him, stunned into silence. He stared at the professor for a long moment, waiting for some sign that this was a poorly-timed joke. When none came, he let out a loud, exaggerated sigh, slumping back into his chair. "I don't mean to be rude, Professor," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, "but you did read my file, didn't you?"

He frowned, the faintest trace of irritation creeping into his voice as he added, "I'm probably the last guy you'd want around kids. Not exactly what you'd call… role model material."

His words trailed off, and for a fleeting moment, a memory flickered to life in his mind—an image of Lily's face, trusting and hopeful, followed by the echo of an explosion.

He swallowed hard, forcing the thought away before it could fully take hold.

Xavier, ever perceptive, seemed to notice the shift in Nathan's demeanor but didn't comment on it directly. After a brief stretch of silence, Xavier finally spoke, his tone as calm as ever. "And you think Logan is?"

Nathan opened his mouth to protest, his instincts kicking in to argue, but no words came. He hesitated, and then, against his better judgment, let out a low, bitter chuckle. "Fair point," he admitted grudgingly. "But still… I'm not good with kids. And if we're being honest, I'm not good for them either."

His expression hardened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he looked Xavier directly in the eye. "So let's say I refuse this little condition of yours. What happens then?"

Xavier's tone turned steely, though his demeanor remained calm. "That would be unfortunate," he said, his voice carrying an air of finality. "But I'm afraid this condition must be fulfilled for us to work together. It's non-negotiable."

Nathan winced, the corners of his mouth twitching into an irritated scowl. The urge to bash his head against the nearest wall crept into his mind, but he pushed it down. This was supposed to be a partnership, not an endurance test for his patience.

Yet, here he was, being strong-armed into playing babysitter for a group of what he justly assumed to be a group of young, highly impressionable mutants.

Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, Nathan slumped slightly in his chair. "Fine," he muttered, his tone resigned but laced with irritation. "If this is what needs to be done to seal the deal, then so be it. But don't expect me to hold their hands or sing campfire songs."

Xavier's expression softened as he inclined his head. "Thank you, Nathan. Your willingness to consider this means more than you might realize." He paused, his eyes twinkling with an almost imperceptible hint of mischief. "Who knows? You might even find yourself changing your mind about the assignment in time."

Nathan's lips twitched into a sarcastic grin. "Yeah, sure. Maybe I'll discover my inner guidance counselor while I'm at it," he drawled, leaning back in his chair with an exaggerated shrug.

Xavier chuckled quietly, his amusement clear despite Nathan's cynicism. "We all have the capacity for growth. Even you."

Nathan waved the comment off with a flick of his hand. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves, Professor. One existential crisis at a time."

Xavier's smile widened, but his tone became more serious as he gestured toward the far wall of the office. "Before we delve into the finer details of our agreement, there's something you need to do first."

Nathan arched an eyebrow, letting his irritation show. "What's that? Sign my soul over in blood?" He knew he had no choice but to play along, but that didn't mean he had to act as if he liked it.

Xavier didn't take the bait, his focus shifting to a tall, ornately carved bookshelf in the corner of the room. "You need to meet the students whose training you'll be overseeing," he said matter-of-factly, wheeling himself toward the shelf.

Nathan watched, equal parts intrigued and annoyed, as Xavier reached for a particular book with a dark red spine. He pulled it slightly, and with a faint click, the entire bookshelf shuddered before sliding smoothly to the side, revealing a hidden elevator embedded in the wall.

"Of course there's a secret elevator," Nathan muttered under his breath, pushing himself up from his seat.

Xavier turned his chair to face him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "If you think this is impressive, just wait until you see what's below." He wheeled himself into the elevator and looked back expectantly. "Coming along?"

Nathan hesitated for a moment, glancing at the now-revealed passage with a mix of skepticism and mild curiosity. "Do I have a choice?"

"Of course you do. It's a free country." Xavier said with a knowing look.

Nathan smirked faintly as he stepped into the elevator, leaning against the wall and folding his arms. "Lead the way, Professor. Let's see what kind of trouble I've signed myself up for."

The doors slid shut with a soft hiss, and the elevator began its descent. Xavier's calm presence filled the confined space, but Nathan couldn't help the faint feeling of uncertainty creeping into his chest.

...

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