Force of Nature
That was Clark's first thought when Ororo Munroe stepped into the room; and really, how could it not be? Her presence filled the space in a way that had nothing to do with physical size and everything to do with the quiet authority she carried like a second skin. White hair cascaded past her shoulders in stark contrast to her deep brown skin, and those eyes—startlingly blue, like pieces of sky somehow caught and held in human form—regarded them with warmth and wisdom in equal measure.
"I'm Miss Munroe," she said, her voice carrying hints of accents from places Clark couldn't even begin to guess at. "Deputy Headmistress." The corners of her eyes crinkled with a smile. "And I must say, I'm glad to have you all here, given the circumstances of your arrival."
Clark caught the subtle emphasis on 'circumstances' and wondered just how much she knew about the library incident. About the masked men. About everything that had led them here.
"The Professor is ready to see you," she continued, gesturing toward an ornate wooden door that somehow was both inviting and intimidating. "Though I'm afraid it will need to be one at a time." Her eyes settled on Clark with gentle certainty. "Starting with you, if you're ready."
Clark felt Harper's small hand tighten in his, a reminder of everything that had changed in the past twenty-four hours. He crouched down to her level, trying to project a confidence he wasn't entirely sure he felt.
"Hey, spark plug." The nickname came naturally, earned by those little arcs of electricity that still occasionally danced around her fingers when she got nervous. "Think you can hang with our Cajun for a few?"
Harper's bottom lip quivered for just a moment before she squared her tiny shoulders. "I'll be okay." Her arms wrapped around his neck in a quick, fierce hug before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Bye-bye. Don't be too long?"
The question in her voice made something in Clark's chest ache. He ruffled her blonde hair, earning a giggle that did more to settle his nerves than any pep talk could have.
Standing, he fixed Remy with a look that tried to convey about fifteen distinct threats without actually voicing any of them. "Watch her," he said, his voice low and serious. "She's been through enough."
"Mon ami." Remy's eyes held none of their usual mischief as he met Clark's gaze. "Ain't nothing gonna touch dis petite while Remy's around. You got my word on dat."
"She'll be perfectly safe," Miss Munroe added, and something in her tone made Clark think of storm fronts and lightning strikes. Like maybe she was exactly the person you'd want watching your back. Or, in this case, watching Harper.
Clark exchanged a quick fist bump with Remy—when had that become their thing?—before stepping through the door. The office beyond felt like stepping into a different world. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, painting everything in warm gold. Books lined the walls in floor-to-ceiling shelves, their spines a rainbow of colors and languages. The air smelled like old leather and wisdom, if wisdom had a smell.
And behind a desk that looked like it had witnessed a century of important conversations sat Charles Xavier.
"Welcome," Xavier said, his voice carrying that British warmth that made everything sound proper and kind. "Please, have a seat, my boy."
As Clark sank into one of the leather chairs facing the desk, he couldn't shake the feeling that his life was about to change. Again. But maybe this time, it would be for the better.
"I understand you've been through quite an ordeal." Xavier's voice carried a mix of authority and compassion. His hands were steepled in front of him, fingers interlaced in a way that made the massive desk between them feel less like a barrier and more like a shared space. "What are your impressions so far?"
Clark shifted in the leather chair, trying to organize his thoughts. The events of the past twenty-four hours played through his mind like a fever dream—the library, the fight, Dutch's car, Logan's motorcycle, and now this palace.
"It's..." He laughed, the sound carrying equal parts wonder and exhaustion. "It's a lot to take in. But in a good way? Like, I just saw a blue guy teleport through purple smoke, and somehow, that wasn't even the weirdest part of my morning." His fingers drummed against the armrest, small arcs of blue energy occasionally jumping between them. "But it's also... I don't know. It feels real here. Like nobody's pretending to be something they're not."
Xavier's smile deepened slightly, warmth reaching his eyes. "And could you see yourself here? Being part of this community?"
"Yeah." The word came out before Clark could overthink it, surprising him with its certainty. "Yeah, I really could." He glanced out the window, watching a group of students cross the lawn. One was floating a few feet off the ground, another had scales that caught the sunlight like diamonds, and nobody seemed to think either fact was worth commenting on. "It's like... for the first time since everything happened, I can actually breathe."
"Beyond that immediate sense of belonging," Xavier leaned forward slightly, those piercing blue eyes somehow both gentle and searching, "what is it you want, Clark? Truly want?"
"What do I want?"
The question hit harder than Clark expected. There was something about Xavier's presence that made it impossible to hide behind the usual deflections and half-truths.
"I..." Clark's hand went to his hair, a nervous gesture he'd never quite shaken. "Obviously, I want to understand these powers. Figure out why touching a light switch suddenly feels like plugging into a power station."
He paused, gathering courage for what came next. "But more than that? I want to understand me. The whole me, not just the parts I can remember." His laugh was soft, almost self-deprecating. "Which isn't much, if I'm being honest. Everything before age six is just... fog. Static. Like trying to tune a radio station that's just out of reach."
The words were flowing now, easier than he'd expected. "I'm an orphan—at least, I think I am. Don't even know that for sure. Could have a whole family out there somewhere, wondering what happened to their kid who shoots energy from his hands." His fingers clenched. "My earliest clear memory is waking up in a hospital in Kansas with a headache and a social worker telling me everything was going to be okay."
Xavier watched him with an expression that suggested he was hearing more than just the words being spoken. "The gaps in your memory trouble you."
"Wouldn't they trouble you?" Clark met his gaze directly. "I don't even know if Clark is my real name. It could be Charles or Christopher or... I don't know, Clarence. The nurses picked it because I had this ratty Superman comic in my pocket when they found me." Another laugh, this one carrying years of uncertainty. "For all I know, I could be from Mars."
"And you believe we might help you find these answers?"
"I believe..." Clark chose his words carefully, feeling the weight of this moment. "I believe that for the first time in my life, I'm somewhere that might actually have the resources to look. And more than that? I've got a kid back there who trusts me to keep her safe, to be the grown-up, when I'm barely holding it together myself most days. I need to be better. For her. For me. For whatever comes next."
Xavier was quiet for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. When he finally spoke, his voice carried absolute conviction. "We will do everything in our power to help you find those answers, Clark. This I promise you." He extended his hand across the desk. "So, shall we make it official? Would you like to attend my school?"
Clark looked at the offered hand, thinking about everything that had led him here. About Harper's trust and Dutch's gruff kindness. About Logan's promise of somewhere safe and Remy's easy acceptance. About a library in flames and a life left behind. About questions that had haunted him for years and the possibility of finally finding answers.
His smile felt like stepping into sunlight after a long storm.
"Yes." He took Xavier's hand, sealing a moment that felt bigger than just enrolling in a school. "Yes, Professor Xavier, I would."