Xavier's School, December 2000
Lynn's POV
For decades, teaching has been something I held dear to my heart.
Not so much for the sense of satisfaction derived from sharing knowledge, though it was undeniably rewarding to observe the youngsters gaining new insights, whether it was to material subjects or the abstract understanding of their own composition and abilities, but rather because I was allowed to play an active role in helping Charles fulfil his dreams.
Although his greater ambition to expand and extend the academy to accommodate humans amongst us had regrettably been met with more than just a couple of obstacles with none willing to join our family once they discovered how gifted the student population and even members of the faculty actually were, Charles never abandoned the idea.
The impossibilities are endless, but he continuously reached out, always bearing this remarkable, and often positively contagious, optimism built upon the most classical concept ever established.
Hope.
While the results reciprocated were usually disappointing, and sometimes even daunting, the dismaying reactions never so much as deterred him from maintaining his faith towards the stubborn community frightened by improvement, or just change.
It has always been something I admired about Charles, his unwavering beliefs in the inner good of all people and his strength to stay loyal to those notions. He never asked, but over the years it had naturally grown upon me to take up his aspirations as my own, and learning to deal with them in the same compassion as he does truly developed my soul into a fuller, and plausibly better, one.
Probably, this would be the core reason why educating was never an entirely similar experience back in Laughlin, even when I was warmly welcomed by the same innocence and liveliness of the young and pure individuals.
Children, mutant or not, all radiated with that precious energy, a boundless burst of pristine vitality untainted by the sins and atrocities of the adult world. They were instinctively curious, but their speculations never surpassed anything evil, and the unwitting insensitivities in their imaginations basically sprouted from their temporary incompetence in formulating their thoughts any more tactfully.
And certainly, I had gotten used to it.
Upon his trip to D.C., Charles endorsed my assignment to relieve one of Jean's Chemistry classes for the elder teens, rationalising that the mature bunch would be an easier one to handle during the span of my recovery, rather than chasing after the wilder kids with my single remaining accessible limb.
Adolescent rebellion, however, was something all of us curiously seemed to have overlooked but thankfully, my powers, coalesced with valid rumours of my conduct during my reign as Disciplinary Mistress, sufficed to keep the defiance at bay.
Irrefutably, it was challenging to juggle my own lectures, taming the sporadically rowdy pupils, assisting Charles with miscellaneous matters, regardless if it was merely for the preparation of his lessons or the tedious administrative work mandated by our college, and caring for my own injury but the series of ordeals suffered, and ultimately conquered, by my body had equipped it with the mental resilience to overcome the normally overwhelming load, albeit with age diminishing that capacity slightly.
Nonetheless, I was utterly grateful for the things that would occupy my time.
Almost like my initial adjustment period when I originally departed the mansion, any idle second would automatically drift my mind into a treacherous abyss, eventually reducing it into a severely depressed state that could only be pacified by the considerable efforts of Charles.
His kind, and ever so delicate, approach to soothing my nerves was literally the perfect sanctuary my broken self required. It was not anything he deserved, to see me drowning in an absolute mess again, but the way he took me into his arms, with unconditional love, unadulterated security and unparalleled generosity, was precisely what I needed in order to push away the disturbing images flashing into my mind, yet not quite serving to moderate their regular occurrences.
Frequently, and expectedly, it would be visited by nostalgic memories haunting me all the way from Canada, but occasionally, a strange recollection would surface. Pondering over its peculiar reemergence in the house only further triggered my gallivanting thoughts to deviate rampantly, and the situation was found to worsen drastically with fatigue.
Being surveyed closely under the concerned watch of Charles and Jean in the past months as my dislocated slowly healed, I was obedient and compliant to all their requests and appeals for me not to stress my body, exercising a substantial amount of restraint on my inherently overhasty self, motivated solely by my terminal goal of returning as a full time staff.
The weak constitution of my bones and its traumatic history of damage had inevitably prolonged the duration in which my wrist had to be buckled into the acrylic cast but my fragile joint was eventually restored to completion. Although its functions were not reverted totally, I was contented the same problems had not affected Charles. The inconsistencies of our physical connection had been one too erratic and unprecedented to explain, or even comprehend, but I was not one to complain right now.
Amazed, and mostly appalled, but still impressed, by my exceptional performance as a patient, Charles willingly reinstated my appointment and gladly consented my application when I expressed interest to engage in the instruction of several more subjects of my liking.
Evidently, I was exhilarated by the thought, rambling on about it to Charles in an excited phase just before bed last night and all over breakfast, everyday since the start of the week.
Yet, even when the continuous tutoring went by smoothly with me being largely accustomed to their silly and frivolous behaviors, the inescapable exhaustion evoked a fleeting moment that distracted me from my sciences and it was all that was necessary to endanger my pleasant streak of the day.
Unknowingly, my mind floated back to the scene in the basement, to the small vial I once noticed amongst the beautiful mess atop Charles' workbench. It might have been just a glimpse I had, but I would recognized that chemical anywhere. The laboratory setting paraded by in a ceaseless loop, blatantly highlighting that signature golden shade, and immediately, my mind was undermined from really concentrating on anything else.
Fortunately, my coaching duties had just came to a conclusion and I stared out the windows, into the elegant curtains of rain showering upon the vast compound. The droplets fell to the glass, splattering it gently against the muted landscape, but rather than having the rhythmic beats or the hypnotic sight take their usual tranquilizing effects, I looked to the graphite skies, appreciating its resemblance to the condition of my guilt-stricken mind.
Corrupted by doubtlessly censurable thoughts, my mood was progressively polluted by a vile shame that rapidly surged into my whole physique in a mad ruckus uncontrolled by my tired self. An unmistakable delirium gradually seeped into my brain and without any logic or coherence, I pushed on my joystick, weaving myself towards the cellar.
An enchanting array of bottles greeted me, in addition to the alluring aroma of alcohol, as I haphazardly steered into the confined space stacked with shelves after shelves of fine wine. The only civilized portion of the room was the bar area in the foreground of an exquisite closet encased by transparent sliding panes, where Charles' massive collection of hard liquor resided in an orderly fashion. Beneath the elevated platform was a concealed refrigerator that stashed away the pilsners, ciders, ales and other beers that were of diluted attractiveness to me in that instant.
Instead, my gaze focused itself on the sleek cabinet and the assortment of spirits deposited within. The wide variety invariably had me spoilt for choice but scanning the organized display, my eyes laid themselves to a flask of sweet rum and before I could register their movement, the container of beverage, as well as a pair of chalices, landed neatly into the obliviously appearing tray on my unfeeling lap with a soft clang that inadvertently alerted me to their arrival.
Heedlessly, but perhaps following a subconscious hunch, I navigated myself through the interlace of halls, furnished with varnished parquet and decorated by sophisticated paintings, now ornamented merrily by an influx of jolly embellishments in line with the upcoming festivities. When I finally stopped, I realized I was located at the exact position, at the entrance of his study, where I had contemplated, a lifetime ago, to make him that identical preposterous proposition currently lurking in my mind.
Charles is my husband, and surely, my confidant. There should be everything under the sun that I could tell him, and many of those I did, without having to hide or be afraid.
But this was not one of them.
Yet, my internal desires battled insubmissively against all odds, direly yearning for his company, and my hand gave his door a light knock.
XXXXX
I am surprised to be alive! lol. I heard next week is going to be worse but I hope I really have time to update. Next week's chapters are kinda my favourites in this break! 😇
I'm looking forward to next week nonetheless because next Thursday... I will be collecting the keys to my new house! Finally, the hubs and I will have our own nest! Ofc it'll need renovations, etcetera, but I'm still excited to finally see the place! 😍
