***

"It's going to be alright, Scott."

Meredith had taken a seat clear from Scott's line of sight, even if the boy insisted on keeping his eyes closed. The police had called her right after her foster son's name had come up among the police investigators as to why a wall in the bathroom was missing.

After listening to reports after reports from witnesses who had seen the beams shooting out from Scott's eyes, the police was convinced the boy was something dangerous and the sooner he was dealt with, the better.

Which is why Scott had been sat in a chair at the hospital, flanked by two armed police officers. His requests for a glass of water had been ignored.

"It's going to be alright," Meredith repeated, not so much to reassure Scott, but herself.

The doctor who had introduced himself as Hoskins entered the room with a medical chart in his hand. He glanced at the boy, then spoke to Meredith, "I'm afraid this isn't going to be good news."

Meredith stood up and let the doctor take her aside.

"The examinations showed something alarming. There's some sort of... mutation..." he spat out the word 'mutation' out with disgust, "happening in his body. We couldn't get an X-ray or a cat scan, something's always wrong with the pictures."

"So what can we do? He can't come home, what if he destroys the house? What if he hurts someone?"

Scott raised his head, but said nothing.

"I think the only way to deal with it is surgery."

"What?!" Scott finally spoke up, startled. He stood up and got promptly pushed back down by one of the officers.

"You're not taking out my eyes!"

"Scott, honey, it's the only way. That way you'll never hurt anyone again."

"I won't open them! I swear! Please don't take out my eyes!"

Meredith turned back to the doctor, "So how soon can you operate?"

"Please.." Scott pleaded, but they ignored him.

"We can start as soon as the surgery room is available. Given he's a threat to peoples' safety, it's best we hurry."

"Whatever you think is best, doctor."

***

A few minutes later, Scott was dressed in a hospital robe, his eyes bandaged shut and his hands cuffed to the rails of a bed. After he had threatened to open his eyes if anyone was to touch him, they had forced him down and duck taped his eyes shut before he could make good on his threat.

Having no way to do anything about his situation, he had given up on fighting. The wounds from the cuffs on his wrists stung whenever he moved them, so he stayed still and cried silently. He listened to the sounds outside, nurses carrying files, trolleys with syringes being moved from one place to another, a baby crying, something that sounded like a rusty wheelchair.

Then a startling sound of the door opening and the doctor stepping inside, "We're ready to start."

Scott wished he could will himself to die. Dying, in his opinion, was better than to live without his eyes, even if keeping them meant he could never open them again.

The took him in the surgery room, removed the bandages but keeping the duck tape in place as a precaution. Scott could still see the bright light coming from the overhead light.

"Hook up an IV and start the drip."

"No!"

"It's alright, son. Once the IV is hooked you'll be out cold in a minute. You won't feel a thing."

"I don't want you to take out my eyes!" Scott cried desperately as he felt the needle being injected into his arm.

The doctor ignored him and went about preparing himself.

Scott felt the liquid starting to spread into his vein, or at least he could imagine it. He felt something grey creeping up the edges of his consciousness and fought with every ounce of mental energy he could muster up.

He heard the sound of surgical instruments being handled on the tray, and something moved to block the overhead light. Someone removed the duck tape with some sort of chemical, it burned his nose and stung his eyes. He wanted to open his eyes to make everything go away, but found his body didn't comply.

He wanted to scream. He was still awake. Now, instead of trying to fight the drugs off, he tried to embrace them, anything to get him unconscious before the scalpel cut into him. It refused to work.

He was awake. Did they not know, or were they ignoring it? The feel of the cool metal of the sharp scalpel above his eye lid made him panic even more.

"That'll be enough."

A new voice, a new presence in the room. This voice wasn't like the others, it had power, something one couldn't ignore. The voices of the doctors and nurses stopped at once, no sound came from anything but from the equipment.

Then a soft hum of an engine, something that came closer to Scott and pulled up to a stop just beside him.

*You're awake, aren't you, son?*

Scott thought he imagined the voice coming from inside his head, but wondered if the voice had been real in the first place. Maybe he was under and didn't even realize it. He tried to reply, but couldn't move his lips.

*It's alright, don't try to talk. My name is professor Charles Xavier, a mutant, just as you are. I assume you're familiar with the term 'telepathy'?*

Telepathy sounded like something from a bad science fiction movie, but given the day's events, he wasn't about to deny anything the benefit of a doubt. And there was only one way to test if this guy really was a telepath so he thought, *So you can read minds and stuff?*

Scott heard the man laugh, but with a warm tone, *Yes, Mr. Summers, I can 'read minds and stuff', as you put it.*

And in an instant, every thought he would've wanted to keep to himself went rushing through his mind. Taking a piss, kissing a girl for the first time and getting hard, masturbation, every intimate detail he tried hard to keep hidden.

And he felt his face blush.

*It's alright, Mr. Summers. That's quite a common reaction when knowing you're in the presence of a telepath. Fear not, I have no interest whatsoever in probing your private memories.*

*Then how do you know I was thinking about it?* Scott asked with humor mixed with disbelief.

*I may know of what you're feeling, but I still have a choice not to know the details,* Xavier said. *The drugs are wearing off, you'll be able to move in a moment. But it is imperative you do not open your eyes. Do you understand me?*

*Yes,* Scott sent but he was starting to feel anxious again. *What's going to happen to me?*

Xavier laid a hand on his, *I have a school. For people with gifts such as yours, where you can learn not only to learn to practice control over your mutation, but to get an education as well. I won't lie to you, there'll be doctors involved,* Xavier felt Scott tense up but kept going, *I assure you, nothing will be done to you without your explicit permission. Your eyes will not be removed, we shall find another way to control your power. But to do that requires running tests, you understand this?*

Scott thought it over.

*I understand. I'll do what it takes. Just don't let them hurt me again.*