━━ HEAD FULL OF TERRORS

I push my way in front of Hank in order to see who the stranger is on our doorstep. He lets me slide under his arm so that we are both silhouetted in the doorway. The man who's asking for the professor glances down at me with a surprised look on his face. I squint up at him, taking in his features from where he stands, haloed by the sun.

The man is large, with broad shoulders covered in a brown leather jacket. A pair of shades cover his eyes, and his face is one of high cheekbones and an immaculately shaven beard. He doesn't look much older than thirty, but the wicked sideburns on his face and gelled hair seem to make him much older. I frown as I look at him, and we stare at each other for a while. Then, something changes in his face. It's as if he's seen something in my eyes that makes him take a step back, which makes my frown deepen even more.

Who is this guy?

"Do you need something?" I try to ask him as nicely as possible. My voice is soft and barely makes it through the air. The conversation with Charles has drained me more than I thought, and take a deep breath. I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine. But I am definitely not fine.

The man seems to awaken from his daze and says. "Uh, yeah. What happened to the school?" I raise a brow at him. This is just getting weirder by the second. No one ever comes to ask us what happened. They usually see the sorry state of the front yard and turn away immediately. We've never had any vandalism or burglars either. They seem to be able to sense that this isn't the place to rob, and walk the other way.

Which is why I watch the man in front of us very carefully.

"The school's been shut for years." Hank replies, his voice monotonous and plain. Hank hasn't been the same since Raven left, since the school closed down. He always talks the same way, with hidden pain behind each syllable.

"Are you a parent?" I ask. The man starts and looks down at me again, but when our eyes meet, he looks away quickly.

"I sure as hell hope not." the man scoffs and looks back up to Hank. He and I share a look with each other, our eyes holding the same caution towards this man. I turn my head back towards the man and watch him carefully, eyes narrowing. I'm almost tempted to try and reach into his mind, just in order to see what he wants. Then I remember it's almost impossible to do so without gaining a headache and hearing the voices again, so I keep my walls up tight and my fists clenched. I don't think I could be any match to this guy, but I know that I might be able to subdue him with darkness if it came to that. He wouldn't see it coming.

God, I'm so paranoid.

"Who are you?" the man asks Hank. He doesn't look at me.

"I-I'm Hank." my friend stutters. "Hank McCoy." The man's face softens into a knowing smile. "I look after the house." I don't even bother to correct him. It's partly true anyway. I mostly take care of Charles, helping him up, giving him his injections, and making sure he rests when he can't sleep. Hank handles the rest, including making sure I get to sleep as well. I can't count how many times he's found me half dozed off by Charles' bedside, twitching as the nightmares consume me. Hank always carries me back to bed when it happens, and when I wake up, I'm tucked safely into my covers.

The man takes off his sunglasses to reveal oval eyes that glint in the sun. I can't deny that the man is quite handsome, despite his oddly styled hair. His face glows with amusement. "You're Beast?" he asks.

Both Hank and I stiffen. I haven't heard that name in years, just as I haven't uttered the word Phantom since that day in Cuba. Those were code-names of a past we both would rather forget. A different time when all we had to worry about was what we were going to call ourselves as government agents. Those names are from a time when we thought we were heroes, when we were not broken or torn apart. That name brings bile rising to the back of my throat as memory after memory slams into my mind. My stomach does somersaults.

The man continues. "Look at you." He points to the upper half of Hank's body, as I'm covering the rest from where we stand in the door. "I guess you're a late bloomer." I can feel Hank moving behind me.

"I'm sorry." I say, my voice growing dark. "But who are you?"

"We don't know what you're talking about." Hank interjects. "But I'm gonna have to ask you to leave." I nod my head quickly and step back, going under Hank's arm again to let him close the door. I wrap my arms around myself and peek over his shoulder. The man is still standing there, despite Hank's wishes, and so he goes to try and close the door.

The man quickly reaches out a hand and stops Hank before the door can fully close. I gasp and take a step forward. Hank grunts, his face straining as he pushes against the wood, but the other man is too strong.

"So," the man says calmly. "Where's the professor?"

"There's no professor here." Hank argues.

"You're pretty strong for a scrawny kid." the man answers. Hank pushes harder. I frown, unsure of what to do. "Come on. Sure there's not a little beast in there?" I roll my eyes and take my hands away from my waist, summoning the dark energy from within my core. It comes bubbling up to the surface, singing my bones as the shadows pool in my hands.

"No, he's not here." Hank stutters.

"Come one, Beast." the man jests. I'm growing tired of this, and raise my arm slowly towards the door.

"Hank." I call out, but he doesn't turn to me.

"Come one, Beastie." the man jokes around.

"No." Hank says, straining against the door.

I shake my head. "Hank!" At that moment the man overtakes Hank and is able to push the door open fully, bursting through with purpose, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. He runs right past me, and my concentration breaks, the shadows seeping back into my hands. Both Hank and I look at each other, then immediately walk after him.

"Hey!" we both call at the same time. The man pushes through the second entrance into the foyer. He doesn't turn around. Hank and I walk next to each other and follow him in.

"We said the school's closed." I yell at him.

"You need to leave." Hank calls out. The man doesn't turn around, only walks with determination through the godforsaken foyer. I keep my head down, trying not to remember the little children that used to play through here, covered in mud and grime after playing outside in the courtyard. The memories don't go away. They shove themselves at me, an anvil dropping straight on my head. It never works. I can ever get them to leave.

"Not until I see the Professor." the man replies to Hank gruffly.

"Hey, Mister." I say, trying to catch up with his quick steps. "Mister!"

Hank grabs onto the man's shoulder and twists him around. I stand off to the side, watching them, hands outstretched in case I need to step in. At the moment, Hank seems like he's handling it alright. "There's no professor here, I told you that." Hank says. Finally the man does pause, looking Hank up and down and stands in front of him.

"Look, kid." the man says. "You and I are gonna be good friends." And then he punches Hank in the face. I let out a short gasp and bring my hands over my mouth. Hank groans and falls to the floor, glasses falling off and face scrunched together in pain.

"You just don't know it yet." the man finishes, and continues on up the stairs calling for the professor. I go over to Hank and place a hand on his shoulder. He winces as he touches his throbbing face. I grimace.

"Stay here, Hank." I tell him. "I'll get him out." With that, I stand once again and turn, running up the wooden stairs of the manor, hoping I don't fall and follow after the man in the leather jacket. I hurriedly prance up the stairs and follow after his bulky frame, running after him into the hallway where Hank and I were just talking. I panickedly look towards the door of my bedroom, but it's still closed. I just hope Charles has fallen asleep or something. I don't want him to be shaken by this strange man's behaviour.

"Mister!" I yell at him. "We told you to leave!" he doesn't listen, so I try something else. "Can you please leave?!" the man only shakes his shoulders and calls for Charles again. I frown and stop where I'm walking, watching the man look into each room. My eyes shift to the closed door, and see that he is not quite there yet.

Whatever he wants with Charles, he's not going to get it. I thrust out my hand towards him, palms outstretched as I close my eyes and try to find the emotion around the man's head. The shadows begin to protrude from my fingertips and worm their way towards him. Once they reach his head, he'll want nothing more than to leave this place. The dark energy rolls off my fingertips and clambers towards the man.

It envelopes his head, and I let them sink into his skull.

That was a mistake.

When I reach inside his mind, my vision grows white. Searing pain shoots through my body, anguish and fear and torment all collide into my skull that the shadows retract. I gasp out. My knees buckle beneath me and I fall to the floor, my breath growing ragged as I try to pull the man's emotions out of my head. So much pain, so much terror. It all clashes against the carefully constructed walls that I've built up around myself.

I look up through teary eyes towards where the man is holding his head, turning towards me. When our eyes meet, his widen in confusion.

"Who are you?" I ask, my voice hoarse. His face twists and I can do nothing but sit there, catching my breath after his pain finds a home in my skull. He stands there, watching me, mouth opening as if he wants to say something. But before he can speak, pounding footsteps sound from behind me, and suddenly I see a blue blur flash past me, and Hank is swinging on the chandelier, his true form bursting through his ivory skin, and he lands on top of the man.

Both men growl at each other as the man tries to get Hank off, but Hank is too strong and grabs onto his shoulders, throwing him down the hall. The man almost lands on top of me as he rolls down the carpet and lands near the staircase. I struggle to my feet and turn in time to see Hank leaping over me. I shriek and duck just as Hank touches down like a cat on the other side and runs on all fours towards the man. The man gets to his feet and holds his fists up, ready to fight, but Hank it too quick and he slams both feet into the middle of the man's chest.

The man is sent flying down the staircase, landing with a thunk on the side leading to the west wing of the manor. I stagger down the steps and watch with wide eyes as Hank leaps from one staircase to another, grabbing onto the man's shoulders. My friend bares his teeth and screams, voice low and baritone. His sapphire blue hair and skin are illuminated in the midday sun. Hank pulls the man over the edge of the banister and throws him back into the foyer.

My eyebrows shoot up. I guess that's one way to get rid of the stranger.

The man lands directly onto the front table, and I'm surprised that he doesn't smash it to bits, given how strong he seems to be. The man grunts in pain and I race down the stairs, stopping short in the center looking down at the two men acting like rabid animals. Hank jumps up and hangs onto the golden chandelier, dust-filled and littered with cobwebs after years of disuse. I haven't seen it's flickering light since the children walked the halls. I smile a little at the memory of one of the young boys using his ability to conjure light, making the chandelier seem to dance. The children would always crowd around the large table as the boy weaved the light through the foyer, juggling the golden orbs in his palms and illuminating the chandelier.

He's gone now. Just like all of them.

Hank clings his feet to the chandelier and hangs upside down above the man lying on the table. I don't know if I should intervene or stay where I am as he growls in the man's face and swipes one of his large clawed hands at him.

That is when we hear it. "Hank? Leena?"

I freeze. My blood turns cold in my veins as his voice drifts down from the hallway upstairs. That broken, tired, alcohol filled voice. I just can't seem to get away from it. Not when I sleep. Not when I eat. Not when I go out into the gardens hoping to find some peace. That shattering voice of Charles Xavier always seems to find me.

"What's going on here?" his slurred words drift down towards my ears as I turn to see him lazily walking down the stairs. Somehow he's gotten a glass of something amber coloured in his hands, and when I look at him, I can see a glint of light behind his eyes. The man who begged me to make the voices stop only minutes earlier now seems to have come alive again. All because he drowned his sorrows in the bottom of a bottle.

"Charles." I whisper to him as he walks towards me. He slips on the last step and I catch him before he falls. He looks at me straight in the eyes, eye scrunching as if he's trying to figure out who I am. Charles holds onto me and smirks, then turns to where Hank is still hanging over the man.

"Professor?" the stranger asks.

"Please don't call me that." Charles says, and I blanch at the smell of liquor in his breath. Charles lets go of my shoulder and walks down the stairs. I'm so caught up in the chaos which has just occurred that I stay where I am. I wrap my arms around my waist and watch.

"Why?" Hank asks, pointing to the man. "You know this guy?" the sun casts shadows behind us, silhouetting both Charles and I in the light. The man stares up at Charles with a strange expression on his face.

"Yeah, he looks s-slightly familiar." Charles says, his voice light. "Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank." he tells the man. Despite everything, I smile as Hank swings off the chandelier, landing on his feet lightly beside the table. I follow Charles down and move off to the side. The man sits up and points towards Charles. I frown at his confusion. It prickles inside my stomach, and I can still remember the anguish I found in his mind. Whatever this man has gone through, it hasn't been good.

"You can walk." he remarks, pointing to Charles' fully functioning legs.

"You're a perceptive one." Charles answers. I roll my eyes slightly but watch the interaction keenly. Who is this man? What does he want with Charles? I've spent years taking care of the telepath, and he's never talked about a man with sideburns and a head full of terrors. If he had, I would've remembered. I remember all of Charles' stories.

"I thought Erik..." the man says. I stiffen and turn to him, eyes narrowing. Did he just say Erik? I shake my head slightly. No, that's impossible. How would this man who I've never seen before in my life know about Erik? Just the thought of him brings tears to my eyes, and I push it all away before it becomes too much.

Thinking about Erik always becomes too much.

"Which makes it slightly perplexing." Charles sits down on the stairs, continuing to speak. "That you missed our sign on the way in." Hank and I share a look. "This is private property, my friend. I'm going to ask—" he pauses and turns to Hank. "him to ask you to leave." Charles rubs a tired hand over his face and I go closer to him.

"We tried to get him to leave." I say softly.

"It's alright, Leena." Charles interjects. His voice is strained yet firm, and I nod. We turn back to the man now getting up from the table, cracking his back and looking back towards us. He frowns.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." the man tells us. "Because, uh," he pauses, then stares straight at me. "Because I was sent here for you." Despite the man staring into my eyes, I know he's talking mostly to Charles, but something about the way he looks at me makes the hairs on my arm stand on end. Whatever he needs with Charles also includes me, I'm sure of it.

"Well, tell whoever it was that sent you that I'm..." Charles looks at the man. "Busy." I want to laugh, but realize that now is probably not the best time. Hank looks to the man, who has a small smile playing on his lips. Charles looks at me, a question in his eyes, but all I can do is shrug.

Something about all this doesn't sit right in my stomach. My eyes dart between the man and Charles, my eyebrows scrunching as I try to work out exactly what this man wants. My fingertips ache and I try to forget about the horrors I felt in his mind. When I entered his emotions, it almost felt as if he were being ripped apart and... stitched back together. It hurt so much. The pain was that of when Sebastian Shaw would spread kinetic energy through my body, hoping to awaken something in my ability. I shut my eyes for a moment, pushing the image of that sickly sweet smile and honey tinged words dripping off his tongue from my mind. He already comes to me in nightmares. I won't have him become a demon walking in daylight too.

The man turns to Charles and smiles a little. "That's gonna be a little tricky." he tells us. "Because the person who sent me..." he looks at us through sorrowful eyes, completely betraying the lighthearted tone he speaks in. "was you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE...

 This is literally such a short chapter but WHATEVER! things will really by kicking off next chapter as a bunch of trauma will come up because they talk about Erik and time travel and Logan has a much more prominent role and yeah I'M SO EXCITED. This chapter was really just setting up meeting Logan and I literally love him so much! he'll kinda be like the fun uncle to Leena because we obviously know Charles and Erik are her dads but Logan will be the person to ground her in this act, helping her through the trauma of both Charles and Erik kinda abandoning her...

ANYWAYS, what did you think of this chapter? I know it's short but I would still love to know your thoughts and theories and opinions! see you next time...

Love, Mal