Subject: [OTL]: The Chosen Ones: Prologue Date: Tue, 28 Sep 1999 07:56:55 -0700 (PDT) From: D Benway The Chosen Ones: Prologue Visitor's Day Benway did this. ******************************************************************* The story of which this is a prologue is not intended for children of any age. It contains descriptions of human behaviour which many might find distressing. You have been warned. The characters belong to Marvel. The story is my own, and copyright to me. Many thanks for the editorial assistance of Luba and sevenall. Other stories are archived at the website of Luba. ******************************************************************** The boy led his parents away from the main school buildings, towards the place where he lived. They crossed the lawns along a carefully raked gravel path. The weeds had been destroyed by an application of an illegal but potent herbicide the month before. The chemical was much cheaper than Mexican gardeners. At the top of the hill stood a simple three story red brick building. "It's the second oldest school building in Massachusetts," said the boy. The original school that it had served had closed in 1852, after which it was used as a home for distressed gentlewomen. He decided that it would have been impolitic to tell them that a minor poetess, deranged by tertiary syphilis, had hanged herself in his very room. "It's away from the rest of the dorms," stated his father. "Yes. All the students on special scholarship live here. Kitty does, and all the other kids from the school." "Ah. Yes. Terrible business. Have any of them heard anything about what might have happened?" "Nothing. They're pretty upset about it." That had to be the understatement of the century. "Still, this school is one of the best in the country." Founded in 1958, to take in refugees from integrating New England school districts. There were Black students, of course. They lived in Crispus Attackus house, behind the heating plant. The Massachusetts Academy regularly took the basketball and football titles for Massachusetts private schools. "Patrick Henry House," said his father. "Give me liberty or give me death," said the boy. "I always thought that was a morbid sentiment," said his mother. "Two hundred years, and the Winfields are still Tories," said his Father. The boy said nothing. He led them into the lobby just inside the main door. "Reminds me of every apartment lobby on 5th Avenue," said his father. "Does anyone ever sit down here?" Guards. "Sometimes. There's not much reason to. There's a kitchen through there, for late night snacks, and there's a study through here." He heard his mother gasp as they entered the room. He didn't mention the elevator hidden behind the paneling that led to the world Down Under. "My God," said his father. "Those aren't reproductions, are they?" asked his mother. "No," he said. "Didn't Grandpa Winfield have a cabinet like that?" "He did," said his mother. "But we had to sell it to pay for the repairs to the porch on the old house." His father had stopped in front of a bookcase filled with old leatherbound books. He opened one and a look of amazement crossed his face. "Learned Hand owned this. It's his copy. He touched this." "Oh." "A brilliant jurist. Remarkable man." His father replaced the book, reverently. "Is this a Sargent?" asked his mother. "Yeah. And the one above the fireplace is by Whistler." Both were acquired from older German men, who had come across them in France during the last big war. He decided not to mention that either. He took them up the main staircase to the third floor. "I'm up here with all of Xavier's kids." "Who's on the second floor?" asked his mother. "International students on scholarship." Foreign psychopathic mutants. "They're mostly back at the school giving tours. You remember Manuel, in the library?" "Nice young man," said his mother. "He spoke beautiful Spanish. Are his parents not here?" "No. They're off in Africa, on a safari." That was what Manuel said. Instead, he imagined that Manuels' widowed father was putting in his usual day at the farm vehicle licensing office in Cacares. He didn't want to think of what Manuel might do if he learned who had found out that little bit of information. He took them to his room, beside Sam's and across from Bobby's. "The girls also live on this floor?", asked his Mother. "On the other side of the landing." "Even so." "Elaine." "Mom, they made us sign a pledge. We're all on best behaviour up here. It's no big deal. Just an early start on the rest of our lives." "A pledge?" His father laughed, derisively. He flushed. He had signed much more than that. "If we violate it, we're out." That was an outright lie. Frost encouraged fucking. She practically required it. "Kitty has a boyfriend, and the other girls are all very religious." Amara's religion had a markedly different attitude towards sex than did Rahne's, but he didn't mention that. There was so much that he could not say. He led them into his room. "My God. They gave you that?" "Yeah. Impressive isn't it?" "I guess it's a bit more powerful than my PC at home. Is Cray a good brand?" "It's an experimental model." And stolen, but that wouldn't be obvious. "That bed is bigger than ours," said his mother. "Like something out of a fairy tale," said his father. They must have seen something in his face, because they both looked very serious, the naive wonder gone from their faces in an instant. They hadn't seen the place before, as he had come here on the visit alone. His father had been bogged down in a capital case, and his mother had been crushed by the depressions that often attacked her. They had been more frequent since she had beaten the cancer. They had been hiding something from him behind their awestruck expressions ever since they had arrived. "Doug, are you happy here?" asked his mother. "Of course I'm happy. It's wonderful here. Who wouldn't be happy here?" "You look terrible. You must have lost ten pounds. You have bags under your eyes." "They have a major phys-ed program here. I'm just getting into shape. I stayed up late last night getting a demonstration ready down in the computer lab." "Doug, that looks like more than one late night.", said his father. "It's nothing." "I don't believe you and neither does your mother. You don't look any better than when you left home." "We thought you were so happy here, you sounded so happy after you left." "I'm still happy being here. It's great." "Bullshit." "Donald!" "Cut the crap, Doug. Whatever was bothering you back home's still getting to you. Was it us? We spent all that money on family therapy, and we never did get an answer." "Donald, shut up! This isn't going to help. Doug, you have to be honest with us." "I'm being honest. There's nothing wrong with you. That therapist was totally full of crap anyways." "I agree with your father. Something _is_ wrong. Why can't you tell us what it is?" Obviously denial wasn't going to work. Sooner or later... "Doug, I thought I was doing the right thing. You withdrew-" His father actually looked pained. But then, he always did when he was talking about the asylum. "Dad, we've been through this a million times. I don't hold it against you. I don't even remember a thing about it." "Dr. Barrett thought that was very strange. He said that you shouldn't recall anything from when you were catatonic, but that it shouldn't have gone back before that. I mean, for a while you didn't even remember that I had been ill. That was frightening." No fucking kidding. Kitty had told him what Xavier had done to his head, and he wasn't happy about it. He wasn't sure that she had told him the whole truth about it. He wasn't sure that she even knew all the details. "You understand why your father and I are worried about it. You were doing so well, after we moved, but then you got so moody. We tried to do all we could." "Look, Mom, I'm doing better here. My grades are up, and now you have the time to go back to school. How's that going?" "Your mother hasn't signed up for anything just yet." She looked away, flushing. In fact, she looked close to tears. This wasn't going well at all. He wondered how many people were watching or listening in. "Mom, I'm all right. I get a bit sad sometimes. I see someone here about it. I kind of fell for someone, and she, well, things didn't work out." "Oh." "You did use protection, didn't you, son?" "Donald!" "Elaine, he's practically an adult now. He has to come to know the ways of the world." "It didn't get that far. I've got it if I need it, and I keep track of the expiration dates. And besides, I've pledged to be on best behaviour. I just got kind of sad about it, you know?" "Son, I wish you'd told me about it." "Donald, it's his business. It wasn't Kitty, was it?" "No, Mom. I mean, I just couldn't see you as being someone to talk to about that sort of thing." An awkward silence. A long, awkward silence. "Son, there is something else we wanted to talk to you about." Divorce? Was he the only thing that kept them together? He went very cold. He had seen what a divorce had done to Kitty. "Doug, your father has a new job." "What about your practice?" "Most of my practice was bound up in Xavier's school. All of his assets are tied up in legal limbo now, until he's declared dead or comes back from wherever it is he went to. The fees weren't enough to cover the legal aid work and the debts, so I started doing a bit of property work on the side. I'm working with a firm that does a lot of developing in our area, and I've finally got enough money to pay off the mortgage on the house." "Cool. What firm?" "Sclerini/Pierce. They're doing a lot of work on aqueducts upstate." "That's great, Dad." He wondered if his father knew of the connection. He decided that this was unlikely, as Frost would have told him at once. It would have been another lever to pry them apart. "Doug, this means that your father and I could pay for you to go to another school, closer to home, so you could attend as a day student." "You know the Roxbury School? We've had an interview there, and if you wanted to, we're sure-" "NO!" "Doug?" "Son, I thought, I mean, you could get back to your old friends, and if you didn't like it here-" "Dad, please, I'm _happy_ here. I don't _want_ to leave. Please. I'd love it if you lived nearer, but I'm happy here, really." "Doug, I'm not sure-" He was on the edge of losing it. "Kitty. I'd lose her. I'm really fond of her. I've made other good friends here. I'd lose them, too. I've lost a lot of friends. Changing schools again would just make things worse. I'm trying hard to be happy. I'm making it, too. I have someone to help me here. I can make it here, and be happy. Please." His father put his hands on his shoulders, and looked straight into his eyes. "Son, we won't force you to do anything you don't want to do. If you think that staying here is the right thing to, we'll respect that decision. You've beaten back bigger challenges than this. A man can do anything if he puts his mind to it. Anything." "Oh, Dad." Always the idealist. Defending trash, never getting paid. Always believing that everyone was inherently good. Ignorant. If only he knew. He almost lost it again. "Just keep it in mind, as an option. If you want, we can see about a transfer. Just keep it in mind." "I will. Thanks. I mean it. But I'll beat this thing. I'll make you proud of me." "We are proud of you. Both of us." It struck him that his father had never said that before. Ever. He went to his mother and hugged her. He never wanted to let go. It took all of his will to stop himself from clutching her so tightly it would give the whole thing away. He stepped away, then embraced his father. His father still didn't like embraces, but he wasn't pushed away. He supposed that the therapy had had some benefits. "I'll be fine." His father said something about the time. They left his room and walked back to the car park together. He passed Danielle on the way, and introduced them to her. James wasn't around, nor were either of the two teachers who had a habit of showing up in class drunk. There were so many things that he couldn't tell them. So many things. They embraced again at the car. No-one cried, although his Mother's eyes seemed misty. He watched as the little brown Toyota left the parking lot and drove down the road towards Haverhill. He watched the tail-lights until they vanished over the hill a mile away, then turned away and walked slowly back to his cell. [Next: A Visit From Old Friends]