The next night, Esdeath landed on her favorite rooftop with practiced ease. The brick ledge had become a familiar perch for her nightly observations—high enough to see three neighborhoods, low enough to hear the pulse of the city.
She sensed him before she saw him. A presence, carefully positioned in the shadows.
"Didn't take you for a stalker, Summers," she called out, not bothering to turn around.
Cyclops stepped forward, his visor catching the moonlight. No battle stance, hands visible. A diplomatic approach.
"Not stalking. Waiting." His voice carried that same stiff formality she remembered from their first encounter. "I figured you'd come here eventually."
Esdeath raised an eyebrow. "Should I be flattered or concerned that the X-Men are tracking my movements?"
"Neither. Just efficient." He maintained a respectful distance. "The Professor would like to meet with you. No strings."
The invitation hung in the air between them. Esdeath weighed her options, feeling the cool weight of Magik's stone in her pocket. Part of her wanted to refuse on principle—she wasn't anyone's recruit. But curiosity won out.
"Lead the way, visor-boy."
The mansion looked deceptively normal from the outside—stately architecture nestled behind wrought iron gates. Only the advanced security systems and the occasional flicker of something distinctly not-human at the windows betrayed its true purpose.
Cyclops led her through manicured grounds to a side entrance. No students in sight—intentionally cleared, she guessed. They weren't taking chances with an unknown variable like her.
A wood-paneled study awaited them. Professor Charles Xavier sat in his wheelchair, posture relaxed but alert. Jean Grey stood at his right shoulder, while Cyclops took position at his left after ushering her in.
Xavier's eyes were sharp, intelligent—the kind that missed nothing. Esdeath felt a subtle pressure against her mental shields, like fingers testing a door's lock. She reinforced them instinctively, watching Xavier's expression shift slightly in response.
"Esdeath," he greeted, voice warm and cultured. "Thank you for accepting my invitation. I'm Charles Xavier."
"I figured," she replied, keeping her tone neutral. "Your reputation precedes you."
"As does yours, though on a smaller scale." He gestured to a chair across from him. "Please, sit if you'd like."
Esdeath remained standing. "I prefer to keep my options open."
Jean's lips twitched in what might have been amusement.
"Understandable," Xavier acknowledged. "I've been observing reports of your activities with great interest. Your control over your cryokinetic abilities is impressive for someone so young, as is the discipline you've demonstrated in your... nighttime endeavors."
"Thank you," Esdeath replied, genuine but guarded. "I've been working on it."
Xavier leaned forward slightly. "What interests me most is the nature of your mutation. It has a dual-natured resonance I've rarely encountered. May I ask where your power stems from?"
The question probed dangerously close to secrets she couldn't afford to reveal. Esdeath maintained her composed expression, mentally checking her shields.
"It's a strange mutation," she offered with a casual shrug. "Feels... alive sometimes. Like it has its own agenda."
Xavier's gaze intensified. "Most unusual. And when did these abilities first manifest?"
"Recently enough that I'm still getting used to them," she answered truthfully. "But I'm a fast learner."
Jean stepped forward slightly. "You certainly are. Your control rivals mutants with years more experience."
Esdeath met Jean's eyes, feeling that now-familiar flutter. "I've always been exceptional."
Xavier's hands came together in a contemplative steeple. "Which is why I believe you would benefit from what we offer here." His voice carried the weight of genuine concern rather than recruitment. "This mansion isn't just a school—it's a sanctuary for those still learning to control extraordinary gifts."
Cyclops stepped forward. "We have training facilities designed specifically for powers like yours. Combat simulations, controlled environments for pushing limits." His tone shifted to something more practical. "And coordination with others means better intel, resources, backup when things go sideways."
Jean remained silent throughout, her green eyes studying Esdeath with an intensity that made the temperature in the room feel several degrees warmer.
Esdeath took a measured breath. The offer was tempting—more tempting than she wanted to admit. A place where she wouldn't have to hide, with people who understood what it meant to be different. But something held her back. The thought of rules, of oversight, of explaining herself.
"I appreciate the offer," she said finally, meeting Xavier's gaze directly. "But I'm not ready to join any team just yet." She gestured vaguely toward the window. "I'm still figuring things out—and I work best alone. For now."
Xavier nodded slowly, disappointment flickering across his features before settling into understanding. "The door remains open, should you change your mind. Not everyone is ready for community at the same time."
"Though some threats are easier faced together," Cyclops added, his tone clipped but not unkind.
Xavier wheeled back slightly. "Scott, would you prepare the car? I believe we've taken enough of Miss Sanchez's evening."
As Cyclops nodded and turned to leave, Xavier followed, the electric hum of his wheelchair fading toward the door. Jean, however, lingered behind, her movement so natural it seemed almost coincidental.
"It was good to see you again," Jean said, extending her hand.
Esdeath took it, expecting a simple handshake. Instead, she felt Jean's fingers press something small and folded into her palm. Their hands remained clasped a moment longer than necessary, Jean's thumb brushing lightly across Esdeath's wrist.
"Likewise," Esdeath replied, fighting to keep her voice steady as she pocketed the note. Their eyes met, and something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment, a promise.
Xavier paused at the threshold, turning his chair to face her one last time. "Just remember, some powers don't ask permission before they take control." His gaze was penetrating, as if he could see past her shields to the duality within her. "Mastery is more than just strength."
The words struck closer to home than he could possibly know. Esdeath's confident smile faltered, replaced by something more genuine—and vulnerable.
"I'll keep that in mind," she nodded slowly, feeling the weight of the note in her pocket and the truth in his words.
As they departed, leaving her alone in the study, Esdeath wondered which was more dangerous: the power growing inside her, or the connections beginning to form around her.
The door closed with a soft click, leaving Esdeath alone in Xavier's study.
The room felt different without their presence—larger, emptier, yet somehow still charged with the weight of unspoken possibilities. She waited, counting to thirty in her head to ensure they were truly gone before slipping the folded note from her pocket.
The paper was crisp, high-quality stationery with "Xavier's School" embossed at the top. Below it, neat handwriting displayed a phone number. Beneath the digits, a single line in the same elegant script: "In case you ever want someone to understand you."
Esdeath traced the words with her fingertip, feeling the slight indentation where Jean's pen had pressed into the paper.
Understanding wasn't something she'd been looking for—wasn't something she'd even considered possible given her unique situation. How could anyone understand what it meant to be reborn into another world, another body?
Yet something in Jean's eyes had suggested a depth of perception that went beyond normal empathy.
The mansion remained quiet as Esdeath found her way out through a side door, slipping into the shadows of the estate's sprawling grounds. The security systems tracked her—she could feel the subtle electronic eyes following her movement—but no alarms triggered. They were letting her leave on her terms.
Twenty minutes later, she perched on her favorite rooftop, legs dangling over the edge as she stared across the glittering expanse of the city. The note sat in her palm, moonlight illuminating Jean's handwriting.
"I'm not joining anyone's team yet," she muttered to the empty air, her breath forming a small cloud in the cool night. The words were as much a reminder to herself as they were a declaration to the absent X-Men.
Below, the city pulsed with life—people moving through their ordinary existences, unaware of the powers that lurked both in shadows and behind respectable facades. She'd chosen to walk a line between those worlds, belonging fully to neither.
Esdeath folded the note carefully and tucked it into her jacket pocket. Her fingers brushed against her phone, and she smiled to herself.
"But I might just text her."
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