Lynn's POV
My brave facade was undeniably one Charles could see through.
He knew me better than any face I could ever put, he read me easily just like any other book, and sometimes, he understood me deeper than even I would.
Surely, it was a charade, but one driven by goodwill.
Every piece of me longed for his presence, yet one rationalized the significance of his assistance. Charles himself comprehended the importance of his intervention, and even when he recognized my fears, he complied to do what we both thought was required.
The moment Jean replaced that dreadful mask, I shut my eyes, yearning to distract myself from the fact that Charles was leaving my side. I smiled, relentlessly trying to contain the conditioned tremble of my body with the resounding noises of explosions, crumbling entirely once the vault doors swished close.
My body had been exhausted from the frigid trauma, yet it fidgeted seemingly tirelessly as I desperately endeavored to get some sleep amidst the violent rattlings. With each rampageous roar, my top flinched in reflex, inviting drafts of cool air to seep underneath the covers even if lifted so much as an inch. The biting chills only aggravated my discomfort, cruelly deeming every position possible an unpleasant one.
With my inanimate legs immovable and my mutilated arm clamped down, there was nothing much I could do about the sores building up in my back besides cringing and blurting occasional distressed moans. As the aches grew progressively irritating, the mundane rolling mechanism echoed faintly into the area and a pair of heels clicked along, ceasing near my horizontal platform.
A slim figure stood by my bedside, silhouetted in the dark despite a couple of rays leaking from the underground corridors but could be readily perceived nonetheless.
"Jean? Why are you back?" I muttered as I frowned in disorientation.
"What are you doing?" I prodded shakily, shivering uncontrollably as she swiftly whipped off the covers from me.
"Charles wanted you to have this," Jean replied nonchalantly and through my obscured view in the poorly illuminated chamber, I saw her sliding up the hospital gown from my legs.
Carefully planting a needle into the upper section of my right thigh, Jean meticulously injected an apparently transparent substance into my system. Almost instantly, I was struck with a drowsy sensation that weighted my eyelids like a pair of heavy curtains and they fell irresistibly before I could experience the warmth of the quilt again.
"Lynn? Lynn!" Jean called repeatedly with increasing frequencies as I was still enveloped by blackness.
Waking yet again to the dull throbbing and her unexpected erratic beckoning, I stirred slightly under the cocoon of a soft duvet, grunting automatically as my rigid spine burned awfully with the natural symptoms of paraplegia.
"Lynn, can you hear me?" Jean probed as I struggled to flutter my eyes open.
"Loud and clear, young lady," I teased, smiling weakly as I regained sight of her.
"Can you tell me how you feel?" Jean enquired professionally as she towered over me.
"Cold. Stiff," I described concisely, attempting to flex my back muscles in a manner of least disruption to the rest my body.
"Can you tell me what happened?" Jean investigated, conscientiously cranking the adjustable bed to incline the top segment for me to rest in a half sitting posture.
"What do you mean?" I clarified curiously as I surveyed her excessively worried face.
"You were sedated, Lynn," Jean revealed in a grave tone.
"Do you remember who did it?" Jean asked solemnly.
"You," I asserted confidently, albeit staring at her with a baffled look.
"I went to the station with the Professor, Lynn," Jean refuted, returning a doubtful and simultaneously troubled gaze.
"Yes, but you came back. You said Charles wanted me to have it," I recounted unhesitatingly but Jean's perturbed expression evidenced just how much she was unconvinced.
"We didn't turn back, Lynn. Are you certain it was me?" Jean examined again, looking at me like she wished she could believe me.
"Yes. I heard you," I insisted firmly.
"You said Charles wanted me to have it," I reiterated in an assured tone.
"I said the Professor wanted you to have it?" Jean verified apprehensively.
"No, you said Charles," I directly corrected, precisely recollecting the scene occurring prior when the thought finally hit me.
"Charles..." I breathed nervously, a rain of intimidating images flooding back to terrorize my mind the moment I came to the realization that he was also wearing that hell of an assemble.
"Where is he?!" I grilled hysterically.
"He's in the foyer. Rogue's been taken by Magneto and Logan wants to leave-" Jean explained but my anxiety wore my patience thin.
"Get me into my-" I ordered fiercely but cut myself off midway as I swept my eyes around the room, noticing the absence of my direly needed transport.
"Damn it," I cursed in frustration, agitatedly slamming my palm to the mattress I was miserably confined to.
"What is it, Lynn?" Jean muttered warily.
"I think Cerebro's been hacked," I predicted agonizingly.
Charles, no matter what you do, stay away- I conveyed to his mind when I finally had a lock on his location within the gigantic hemispherical space.
"Don't!" I yelled aloud and telepathically to Charles but my efforts were futile being that split second slower.
Concurrently with my shriek, Charles had fitted the repulsive-looking helmet onto his head and the moment the sleek metallic piece contacted his bare skull, the supercomputer came to life like it was constantly sucking it away from Charles.
Immediately, Charles and I screamed in synchrony as a strangely familiar large psychic feedback clobbered our minds.
"Lynn! What's wrong?!" Jean exclaimed, horrified, as she tenderly cradled my tensing body in her arms.
"Get him... Out... Of there..." I whimpered difficultly, shedding tears of a boundless river as the pain worsened drastically.
Intuitively, I clutched both my temples, the physical suffering tormenting my afflicted arm paling in comparison to the severe pounding torturing my head as I mentally witnessed Charles experiencing the same.
Almost like a mirror to that horrible dream, Charles' body convulsed helplessly as he was trapped alone in the huge dome. His cramping body battled to singlehandedly remove the deadly connection he had to the powerful device and it crashed to the floor in a clumsy fashion far too reminiscent.
The brutal drumming in my head gradually lessened, slowly becoming bearable and manageable, but Charles' face remained grimaced and overwhelmed as he conjured almost all strength remaining just to move his joystick. Hardly even facing to the exit, his condition seriously deteriorated yet with mine oddly alleviated and Scott bolted in just in time before Charles entirely collapsed from his chair.
Scott hurriedly placed himself between Charles and the floor, duly preventing his mentor's body from crumbling to the ground. Tediously hoisting Charles onto his back, Scott rushed Charles into my ward and I cupped my mouth, sobbing unrestrainedly as I stared miserably at his unconscious body.
"Where are you going, Lynn?!" Storm scolded, pinning me back to my bed as I frantically stretched out my hand towards Charles.
"Let me see him, please!" I wailed frenziedly and Jean complied, carefully levitating me into a Charles' chair by the surgical table Scott had just placed him on.
"What happened?" Logan asked genuinely as I caressed Charles' head.
"Cerebro was spiked..." I unveiled, panting from the endless weeping.
"He used himself to shield me from the damage, but... I don't think he could to do the same for himself..." I cried wretchedly.
XXXXX
It seems it is Easter holidays for most of you out there! I wish all of you a happy Friday and happy holidays too! 😍
Have a great one everybody! But don't forget to vote and comment! 😁
