prove you're not dead

He could hear the hesitation in her voice. It was true that he couldn’t do the things that the Professor could, and locating her child would definitely be a lot easier with his assistance. The problem was that he didn’t know when he would be returning, but Charles wasn’t the only one who might be able to help, and he found himself already searching his mind for a way to convince her to stay and let him help her. He knew, without a doubt, that she wasn’t his mother, but still there was something inside him that couldn’t just let her leave. Even just having her near with this resemblance felt like he had been given something back that he had lost so many years ago.

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he was already cautioning himself against projecting his unresolved feelings toward his mother onto her. She would not be able to fill the hole that lived inside of him, no matter who she looked like. Logically, he told himself these things, but the part of him that didn’t want to lose this image so soon had already convinced him that if he could help her find the part of herself that she was missing now, he had an obligation to do so. Before he could come up with anything to say to counteract her hesitation she was agreeing to his suggestion.

❝ It’s nice to meet you, Kaitlin. ❞ He tells her with a slight bow as he takes the hand she extended to him. ❝ I just wish it was under better circumstances. ❞ He turns to lead her into the mansion. Leading her to the study on the first floor, he holds his arm out, ❝ Please make yourself at home. Can I get you anything.. water? ❞ Waiting for her answer, he turns to pour himself a glass, ready to fetch her one as well if she would like. He noticed the folder that she had been packing before she came inside, and that seemed as good a place to start as any. ❝ Is that what you’ve collected about your son’s disappearance? May I? ❞

Once she’d lied to him, Katherine found it hard to look directly at him. Maybe he didn’t recognize her, which hurt to some degree, but she had a paranoia that he’d find her in her eyes. She remembers too vividly when he was little and she’d cuddle him to sleep, tucked against her body, and he’d stare into her eyes like she was the most important thing in his world. How could he forget that? Then again, he had more time to than she had. 

It feels like a blur, walking from the car into the mansion, and from the mansion to the study. She tries not to glance around, but she has this odd feeling like she’s in competition with this place. He’d spent a lot of time here, from what she could gather, and that isn’t the fault of the drywall or the vaulted ceilings or fucking pristine floors. It’s hers. And yet she still wants to take a bulldozer to it all. No, that felt too impersonal, maybe a mallet. She’s so busy fantasizing about it that she nearly misses the way his hand comes towards the file. 

Instinctively, she snatches it back and realizes too late that the motion is all too defensive and off putting. She opens her mouth to say something, explain it away, but she can’t come up with anything. Him seeing it was out of the question, until he knew of course, but then what would he really see? A collection of scraps that she’d followed, the only bits of information she had about him. All she knew about him, in a manila folder thinner than a fingernail. She feels ashamed about that, because what she had known about him, from before- that could fill a library. 

“It’s... I think I’ll take that water, please,” she says quietly, needing more time to think. Maybe she could make this about Alex, or as vague as can be. But he’d ask her son’s name, and what would she tell him then? How elaborate could she really get with no preparation or before she goes too far for him to forgive?

He hadn’t meant to frighten her. It was clear from the way that she jumped, that she was a little bit rattled, to see the least. Immediately, Scott took a step back so show that he meant no harm. He wouldn’t rush her. If there was one thing that Scott excelled at, it was handling a sensitive situation, and from the look on her face, he could say with certainty, that’s what they were dealing with.

It wasn’t until she looked up at him to answer that he noticed it. He couldn’t remember what his mother looked like by memory alone. He hadn’t seen her in nearly 20 years, and the brain damage he sustained in the crash hadn’t done him any favors. But he spent endless hours over the years staring at the tiny picture in the only possession he held dear, a locket she’d attached to him right before her own demise. He would stare at it and wonder what they would think of the choices he had made. He wanted to believe more than anything that she would have been proud about him, but he never could convince himself that there was any fraction of truth to that statement.

The resemblance was striking, and it only made him more motivated to help her. When she told him why she was here, his heart ached for her. He could sympathize with her to say the least. ❝ I’m sorry. ❞ He said, kneeling down, so that he was at eye level with her, the concern he felt for her situation was clear on his face. ❝ The professor’s not in right now, but why don’t you come inside, and let me see if I can help you. ❞ He offered, opening the car door as he extended the invitation. ❝ My name’s Scott, the professor left me in charge while he’s away. ❞  

Katherine had fallen prey to the same phenomena that plagued most mothers, the overwhelming feeling that her child was absolutely perfect. And it made it hurt more, seeing him so kind and compassionate because it made her terrified to know what made him so. He’d been that way when he was little though, she tried to remind herself, he’d always been so inherently good. It made lying to him feel even worse. She stares at him for a moment, her fingers itching to touch his face. To trace the features she still recognized. And most of all, she wanted to see his eyes, but she knew his glasses were in place for a reason considering how cloudy the day had become.

“I don’t think...” she knew she shouldn’t take his offer to help her. It couldn’t end well, starting this off with deception, but what else could she say? Hi, I’m your mother. I know I’m supposed to be dead, but I’ve really just been in space while you were growing up alone. There was also that other urge she had to bite down, the one to ask about Alex and where he was. From what she learned, it was clear they’d grown up separately, which was easily one of her worst nightmares. 

Clearing her throat, she shoves the papers in her hands into a folder and nods. It was her only chance to get inside, and she shouldn’t waste it because of her own self-loathing. He deserved the truth, and he’d get it in time. “Sure, okay. Thank you.” As she steps out of the car, she offers him a hand to shake and her skin is buzzing in anticipation to touch him again. “I’m... Kaitlin.” It was close enough, she could always swear she misspoke later when he knew the truth. 

He was almost finished restoring his latest project— restoring a 1972 Chevy Chevelle. But there were still a few parts that he was missing, so he took advantage of one of his few days off to drive into the city to check out a few chop shops to see if he could locate what he was missing. The drive wasn’t too terribly long, and he honestly enjoyed the peaceful drive as a chance to just clear his mind. Heading home, he found himself in a pretty good mood as he had found what he was looking for and he hadn’t found too bad of a deal either. They’d be shipping him the parts this week, so he estimated he could get it running within a couple weeks at most.

As he turned the corner heading down the long stretch of road leading to the driveway of the only place he had ever called home, he noticed an unfamiliar car that seemed to be going in circles. Naturally, he assumed the driver must be lost. The professor was usually pretty good about letting them know about new arrivals with as much advance notice as he could. Pulling up to the front steps, he killed the engine on his bike, and propped it on the kickstand, before making his way toward the now parked car. Wrapping three times on the window, he looked down at the woman who definitely didn’t look to be having a good day. ❝ Hey, are you okay? Do you need some help? ❞

Katherine was usually pretty good at keeping a tab on her surroundings. Well, she was excellent at it. Being a pirate, especially in space, it was what her life depended on most times. But right now, her head is full of maybes. Maybe he won’t want to see her. Maybe somehow she has the wrong Scott Summers. Maybe he would be better off believing she was still dead. It was a lot of maybes, and it didn’t leave much room for any other thoughts. So she jumps when he knocks on the window, taking a deep breath before looking out it as she rolls it down.

And good thing she did, because suddenly she feels like she can’t breathe at all. Chris? It couldn’t be, he’d died in front of her. Then it hits her all at once, the way reality had been since she’d entered the atmosphere. Just when she seemed to be acclimating, something else smacked into her and made her spin. She blinks a few times and the slight differences come into focus. His chin was much like her own, his cheekbones. Her lip trembles and she realizes she’s gone too long without answering.

“Uh...” she looks quickly to her passenger seat where the papers scribbled with his information lay. Previous addresses, his name over and over in big letters, clippings about the X-Men. Her son, a mutant. That didn’t bother her, what did was that she wasn’t here to help guide him through it. Instead, it was this Charles Xavier. “Um, I’m looking for Professor Xavier. I just... needed a minute. My- my son-” She fixes the papers into a stack so he can’t see what’s written on them if he looks. “He’s missing, and I think the Professor can help.”

She walks into the gas station, eyes a bit unfocused as she makes her way to the counter. It all seemed so primitive now, compared to the worlds she’d seen. On the counter she absently puts a candy bar and digs in her pocket for one of the dollar bills she’d hoarded all this time without any indication she’d ever be able to use them again. “Xavier’s Institute. Which exit?” she asks, barely looking at the clerk.

Her (stolen) car idles at the end of the long gravel driveway. It’d only taken her a week to find him, apparently he’d been here awhile- a thought that pained her more than words could ever express. She ends up driving past the school, twice, before ending back up at the same spot. She feels like she’s stuck on a loop but there’s also a part of her hoping that one of these times she’ll drive back around and somehow the days and years had reversed. He’d be a kid again, she wouldn’t have stolen his childhood from him. They could be happy.

independent, semi-selective katherine summers rp, canon-divergent verses. 18+