「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(240) Sentimental Day

Xavier Mansion, 21st September 2002

Lynn's POV

Logically, there was no good reason to account for their matrimony being so horribly delayed, and being alleged as that one crucial excuse was certainly an enormous burden to bear.

Claiming that she utterly needed my presence at her wedding, Jean adamantly refused to have any ceremony before I decided to come home. Unfortunately, the series of events leading up to that had not been exactly favourable for tying the knot, especially with the premises of their relationship being unnecessarily challenged, but ultimately strengthened by the ordeal, her union with Scott smoothly blossomed into a definite one.

Although Charles and I, and surely Storm, had willingly offered to temporarily relieve some of their duties from the school, we were repeatedly rejected and only allowed to advise or throw in suggestions from the sidelines. Equally and synchronously headstrong, the couple, that was evidently meant for each other, was stubbornly determined to juggle their academic obligations concurrently alongside their arrangements for the monumental affair.

While they were doubtlessly competent, the limited amount of time made available to them outside of their usual working hours had inevitably impeded the planning progress.

Additionally, the incredibly horrific attacks cruelly devastating New York and several other major cities across the country were bound to instill substantial yet reasonable fears amongst Jean's invitees, dominantly consisting of her peers from college who had moved their practices away from continental America, mandating the formal occasion to be held only two summers after my return to the mansion.

Slightly more than a year since the ruthless terrorists struck in the United States, the government drove the nation into its gradual but steady recovery and Jean's friends were no longer deterred, finally streaming from across the globe into Westchester.

Bright and sunny, the Saturday morning ushering us into the fall beamed with lively hues. Almost reminiscent to the day nearly three decades ago, the mansion gardens bustled with life amidst its fancy decorations, playing a ravishing host to our sea of visitors.

Gathered under the clear blue skies in orderly rows of five, the influx of medical doctors and our students, existing or alumni all the same, sat harmoniously on the neat array of golden Tiffany chairs tucked under the translucent canopy, patiently awaiting the procession to begin.

With my chair docked at the first line, I sat with Hank, who had heartily accepted our bidding after Charles' multiple attempts albeit only appearing in his human shape, and peacefully admired the delicately faded glow shedding onto our surroundings when a dazzling ray glared into my eyes, instantly escalating the faint migraine in my head into a potent one.

Charles, I think she might be killing our audience, I remarked lethargically, discreetly rubbing my throbbing temples.

I'm sorry to break to you, love. But it's not her, Charles refuted in a sympathetic tone, softly dismissing my assumptions that the source of my disturbing headache was the immense psychic feedback conceivably emanating from her nervous mind.

You've been so excited you haven't had a good night's sleep in a week. I'd be surprise if you didn't feel unwell, Charles enlightened kindly and I chuckled sheepishly, finally made aware of my negligent behaviour.

I'm so terribly sorry, Charles, I apologized in embarrassment.

It's alright, Lynn. Just relax. I'll be with you in a bit, Charles reassured sincerely, inducing a weak smile on my face.