[91] Telepathic Anchor

Chapter 91: Telepathic Anchor

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Xavier's Institute materialized before me as I skidded to a halt. The world around me decelerated from XLR8's speed-blur back to normal.

Dawn had barely broken, painting the mansion with soft gold light that belied the chaos it had recently endured. My legs ached slightly from the cross-state sprint. But it was worth it.

Last time when I'd used Ghostfreak to go to New York, while it was fun through the sky, itd taken quite a long time. XLR8 shortened that time by a long shot.

The transformation timed out as I reached the kitchen door, the familiar green flash returning me to human form.

“Ahh, fresh air.” I rolled my shoulders, loosening stiff muscles.

The mansion was eerily quiet at this hour. No students rushing to class, no teachers discussing lesson plans. Just the soft hum of the industrial refrigerator and the gentle clink of a spoon against ceramic.

I found Gwen sitting alone at the island counter, orange hair still tousled from sleep, nursing a steaming cup of tea. She wore an oversized sweater that probably belonged to someone else in the mansion, legs tucked beneath her on the stool. The normalcy of the moment felt jarring after the night I'd had full of cat burglars, secret laboratories, and armed mercenaries.

She looked up, those familiar green eyes instantly narrowing as she assessed me. "You look like crap."

"Good morning to you too, sunshine," I replied, making a beeline for the coffee maker. My body screamed for caffeine after the night's adventures.

"Bastard Ben. You were supposed to be back yesterday," she said, watching me fumble with the expensive machine. "Grandpa was worried."

“You weren't?” I asked, earning a scowl from her as I focusing on the coffee preparation to avoid her scrutiny. "I'm sorry… Got caught up in Manhattan. Jessica had a case."

"A case, you say?" Her voice lifted with skepticism. "Must have been some case to keep you occupied for two days."

“Crazy part is, I'm not even lying,” I said. The coffee maker hissed to life, filling the kitchen with the rich aroma of freshly ground beans. I leaned against the counter, facing her. "Jewel thief. Diamond heist at the Met. Human experiments. Evil Billion Dollar Company. The usual."

"Since when are those 'the usual' for you?" She sipped her tea, eyes never leaving my face. "And since when do you help Jessica with PI work? I thought your thing was punching alien warlords and stopping the universe from imploding."

"I'm a man of many talents, sleepy girl," I replied, retrieving my coffee once it finished brewing. The first sip scalded my tongue but sent blessed caffeine racing through my system. "Actually, ran into someone you might know."

"In Manhattan? Who?"

I kept my tone deliberately casual. "Classmate of yours. Felicia Hardy."

The reaction was immediate and everything I'd hoped for. Gwen's eyes widened, her teacup freezing halfway to her lips before she set it down with a clatter that sent tea sloshing over the rim.

"Felicia Hardy?" Her voice jumped an octave. "How on earth did you run into her?"

“Huh. I thought she lied about knowing you, but your reaction speaks for itself.” I shrugged, fighting to keep my expression neutral. "Jessica's case led us to cross paths. Why? Is that weird?"

"Weird doesn't begin to cover it." Gwen leaned forward, suddenly animated. "Well. There's a lot I can say, but in short, Felicia Hardy is basically Midtown's unofficial queen bee. Star gymnast, straight-A student when she bothers to try, and has half the senior class wrapped around her finger."

"Huh. You two friends?" I asked, knowing the answer but curious about her perspective.

Gwen snorted. "Hardly. We're more like... mutual acknowledgers in the hallway. Her crowd and my crowd don't exactly overlap."

“That's surprising,” I said. “You look far better than her. Why don't you have a fanclub? Ah, right the attitude-”

I dodged her empty cup, barely making it. She used her magic to stop it from hitting the floor, bringing it back to her.

“You getting too comfortable, Benjamin. Just because we… are closer than before doesn't meat I won't beat you! Watch that mouth.” She warned, fingers drumming against her mug. "There's something about her that always felt... off, you know? Like she's wearing a mask even at school."

That confirmed my suspicions. Even at Midtown, Felicia lived a double life. "Off how? Like, suspiciously off?"

"Just... different." Gwen's forehead creased in thought. "She disappears sometimes. Like, vanishes for days, and none of the teachers ever question it. It's like she has everyone under some kind of spell."

"Or blackmail, maybe," I suggested, recalling how easily Felicia had moved through the museum's security systems.

"Maybe." Gwen's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why are you so interested in her anyway? Did something happen? You've got that look."

"What look?"

"That 'I know something but I'm pretending I don't' look. It's the same one you had when you ate the last cookie and blamed it on Grandpa." She set her tea aside, fully focused on me now. "Spill it. What's going on?"

I debated how much to reveal. Telling Gwen that Felicia was the infamous Black Cat would complicate things, especially since I'd technically let a criminal escape. But keeping her completely in the dark felt wrong too. Gwen was special to me. The closest thing to my partner.

"I won't lie. Remember the Jewel Thief? That's her. She has this supervillain-like identity on the side. Well, not really a villain, she just steals from the rich," I hedged. "And now, she's involved in something dangerous."

"What the fuck, she's a thief?? She always looked pretty rich rhough… ah wait, no way. That's crazy! Her money must come from those stolen items.” She laughed out loud. “Oh, I can't wait to meet her once Summer Vacation ends. But what’s the dangerous thing?" Gwen pressed. "Did she get herself in trouble? Is she working with someone shady? You mentioned human experiments earlier… Ben, is she safe? "

"It's nothing like that, don't worry, she's safe," I lied smoothly. "More like... family trouble that spilled over. Jessica's handling it." I forced a reassuring smile. "You know how these rich Manhattan types are. Drama follows them everywhere."

Gwen didn't look convinced. Her eyes bored into mine with the intensity that made her such a formidable partner in our adventures. "There's something you're not telling me. First you vanish for days on a short notice, then you show up looking like you haven't slept, and now you're asking about one of the most mysterious girls at my school? What's really going on with you?"

The accusation stung, especially since she wasn't entirely wrong. Between Jessica, Charmcaster, our own complicated situation, and now the flirty Felicia complication, my life had become a tangled web that Spider-Man would envy.

"You're right," I admitted, setting my coffee down and crossing the kitchen to where she sat. "There's a lot happening right now. More than I can explain over morning coffee."

I wrapped my arms around her shoulders from behind, giving her a tight hug that made her stiffen momentarily before relaxing.

"Um..."

I kissed her cheek, quick but affectionate, feeling the warmth rise to her skin. "Don't you worry about it, Jessica and I will sort it out. I'll tell you the details once everything is resolved, alright?"

“Well-”

The kitchen door swung open before she could respond, saving me from further interrogation. I'd already moved away from Gwen by then.

Grandpa Max entered, already dressed in his typical Hawaiian shirt. This one featuring neon pink flamingos against a background that could only be described as "aggressive teal."

"There you are, Ben! Gwen too." he said, clapping a hand on my shoulder hard enough to make me wince. "Charles has been waiting. Conference room, ten minutes."

"That old man? What's happening?" Gwen asked, her earlier suspicion morphing into curiosity.

"They think they've found a way to help Miss Madelyne," Grandpa explained. "Remove whatever control Sinister still has over her mind."

"And they need me because...?" I asked, though I had a sinking feeling I already knew.

"She's asking for you specifically," Grandpa confirmed. "You'll get more details there, I don't know how all this telepathy business works. Let's go.”

Gwen's expression darkened, her eyes flicking between Grandpa and me. "Of course she does," she muttered.

"I'd better get going then," I said, draining the last of my coffee and setting the mug in the sink. I glanced back at Gwen, who was studiously avoiding my gaze. "See you later, Gwenny."

“Hmm?” Grandpa blinked in surprise at the nickname. Then laughed. “I knew this summer vacation was a good idea! You two seem much closer than before.”

“Haha…”

****

Xavier's office embraced the aesthetic of a Victorian gentleman's study that had been gently updated for the modern era, like I remember from last time. Mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, crammed with leather-bound volumes whose spines bore titles in languages both human and decidedly not.

The morning sun streamed through tall windows, catching dust motes that danced in the still air.

Professor Xavier sat behind his massive desk, fingers steepled beneath his chin. Emma Frost occupied an armchair to his right, immaculate in white as always, legs crossed at the ankle in a posture of calculated casualness. Both turned as Grandpa and I entered, their expressions grave.

"Benjamin," Xavier greeted, gesturing to an empty chair. "Thank you for joining us. I understand you've had a rather eventful couple of days."

"That's one way of putting it, they were quite busy, yes," I replied, settling into the offered seat. The chair was surprisingly uncomfortable for something that looked so plush – probably intentional, to keep visitors from lingering too long. "Grandpa says you've found a way to help Madelyne?"

"We believe so, yes." Xavier wheeled out from behind his desk, positioning himself where he could address all of us directly. "Mister Sinister has left what amounts to a psychic backdoor in Madelyne's mind – a seed that could allow him to regain control at any time."

Emma uncrossed her legs, leaning forward with clinical detachment in her voice. "We need to excise it like a tumor. But Miss Pryor is... resistant to our help."

"Can't really blame her," I pointed out. "Last time someone was in her head, it didn't exactly go well."

"Precisely," Xavier agreed with a sigh. "The mind sea is a very soft area. The violation she experienced has left her understandably wary of allowing any telepath access to her mind. Yet the danger remains."

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to process the implications. "What about non-telepathic options? Can't you... I don't know, build some kind of psychic shield for her? Or use technology instead of direct mental contact?"

Xavier shook his head sadly. "This isn't something we can heal with conventional therapy or medication. The threat is too immediate, too severe. Sinister's influence runs deep, woven into the very foundation of her consciousness."

"That's where you come in, kiddo," Grandpa said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

I frowned, confused. "I'm not a telepath. How can I help? Plus, I'm unsure if she'd be fine even if it's me..."

A knowing smirk played on Emma's lips, her diamond-hard eyes glittering with amusement. "Don't you have that ghost alien that went in her head last time? And relax, this isn't some dirty plan we old people brew. Madelyne is specifically asking for you. Specifically. She said she would only allow the procedure if you were present during it."

The implication in her tone was clear. A month ago, I'd have felt heat rise to my face, but now I only felt like raising my hands in defence. "Before you guys misunderstand, things aren't like that between us. Even if she was in my room.”

"Yes. Of course not," Emma agreed, not sounding convinced in the slightest. "It seems you've made quite an impression on our little clone. She trusts you in a way she doesn't trust anyone else here."

My logic to her that was – ‘we only met a month ago, so the only Jean I know is the Jean that you are. Doesn't matter if you're a clone or not.’ – seemed to have gotten a bit too deep in her head.

I shifted a little under her scrutiny. Emma Frost had a way of making you feel like she was reading your deepest secrets even when she wasn't using her telepathy.

Xavier cleared his throat, shooting Emma a warning glance. "What Miss Frost is failing to explain properly is that we need you to be Madelyne's anchor – a familiar presence she can focus on while we work. You won't be performing the procedure, but your presence may be crucial to its success."

"That makes sense to me. Ben, think of it like emotional support," Grandpa added. "You'll be there to reassure her, keep her calm while Charles and Emma do the heavy lifting. What do you say?”

I nodded slowly, processing what they were asking. It made sense, in a way. Despite our brief and somewhat chaotic interactions, Madelyne and I had formed a connection. I'd seen her at her most vulnerable and still treated her as a person, not just Jean's clone or a potential threat. That kind of respect earned trust.

And if I was honest with myself, I felt responsible for her. I'd recognized the danger when others hadn't, had fought to protect her from Sinister's influence. Leaving her to face this procedure alone felt wrong.

"I'll do it," I said firmly. "When do we start?"

"Fantastic. We can start immediately," Xavier replied. "We've prepared a secure room in the lower levels, equipped with psionic dampeners in case... things go awry."

"In case she goes full Goblin Queen, you mean," I said and they nodded.

Emma added, "Unfortunately, yes, that's one of our concerns. If Sinister's influence fully manifests, it could trigger a transformation similar to what you witnessed. But potentially much worse this time.”

"How much worse are we talking?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer from my memories of the comics.

"Reality-altering worse," Emma said bluntly. "The kind of power that could reshape this corner of the Eastern Seaboard into a living nightmare if fully unleashed."

Great. No pressure then.

"By the way, this might be a stupid question, but my own memories are all safe, right?" I asked in a casual tone, but I wanted a favourable answer. The Omnitrix gave me natural protection, but I'm unsure if it had a limit if three super powerful Telepaths tried to prove my mind together.

Emma's smile suddenly widened, catlike and predatory. "Why do you ask, young Ben? What secrets could you possibly have that you'd need to hide from us?"

My mind raced through all the things I absolutely didn't want powerful telepaths accessing.

"Everyone has private thoughts," Grandpa interjected firmly, giving Emma a look that could have melted steel. "Ben's entitled to his."

"Of course," Xavier agreed smoothly. "Emma and I will respect your privacy as much as possible during the procedure. Plus I think the Omnitrix provides you with natural psionic shielding already. Unless I'm wrong, we shouldn't be able to break through it."

Means he'd already calculated that possibility for ‘worst case scenario.’

Classic Charles Xavier's. Reminds me why I disliked him in the first place.

At the same time, it makes sense. From an outside point of view, I look quite dangerous.

"Alright," I conceded.

"There's one more thing," Xavier added, his voice gentle but firm. "Madelyne has asked to speak with you alone before we begin. I believe she has something important she wishes to discuss."

My eyebrows rose. "Any idea what?"

"She wouldn't say," Xavier replied. "Only that it concerned her identity and future plans."

Emma gave me a sly look. “By the way, how old are you this year? Already so popular with ladies.”

“Much younger than you, Miss Frost.”

“....”

The blank look on her face was really satisfying. After learning where I could find Maddy, I turned to leave but Emma's voice stopped me at the door.

"One last thing, Mr. Tennyson."

I glanced back, wary of whatever the White Queen might add. "Yes?"

This time it wasn't a jab. "When dealing with someone whose identity has been so fundamentally undermined," she said, her tone surprisingly sincere, "the most valuable gift you can offer is the freedom to choose who they become next."

Her eyes met mine, sharp with understanding.

I nodded, strangely touched by her insight.

For all her manipulative tendencies, Emma Frost understood what it meant to reinvent oneself. To shed an old identity and forge a new one.

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