「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(299) Lineages

Xavier Mansion, October 2005

Lynn's POV

I watched my fingers sit nicely in his palm as Charles wrapped my waist intimately in his other arm. Expertly, he twirled us around and we seamlessly glided across the varnished parquet to the resonance of a graceful song.

The classical tune was melodious and intriguing, painting a beautiful picture of harmony. Destroying the amazing ambience, however, was the unpleasant intrusion of indistinct mumbling and the wondrous scenes of our dance sadly began to fade away.

Slowly, darkness eclipsed my eyes but they soon accustomed to the moonlight. Our curtains were mostly drawn, granting only stray beams inside, but the interiors of our room were curiously bright.

Weakly squinting my eyes, I discovered it to be way past midnight but the faint gibberish that mysteriously materialized was not just in my mind. Droning softly, the murmuring grew clearer—realer—as the clocked ticked and I discreetly faced towards him, unexpectedly jarred by the bulb too glaring.

"Charles?" I croaked, grimacing, as I feebly slid my hand up his side.

"Oh, love," he gasped, seemingly startled.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?" Charles apologized in a concerned tone.

"What are you doing?" I probed in disorientation, propping myself up slightly but barely earned a peep before my vision was impeded by him.

"Nothing. It's nothing," Charles hurriedly dismissed, hastily flicking the switch and my eyes were blind as the radiance of his lamp was doused but my ears were still alert, detecting a brief rustle of what sounded like paper.

"Let's just go back to bed," he insisted, swiftly flipping himself over and readily looped his arms around me but I quickly retracted my hand, resting my knuckles against his sturdy chest.

"Look, Charles," I spouted, glancing up at him sheepishly.

"I don't mean to pry but, I know something's wrong—and I can only imagine how terrible it must be when you choose not to tell me," I confided, straining to maintain a steady voice.

"My dear, would you tell me what's wrong, please?" I appealed sincerely, creeping my hand up to his neck.

He looked at me with dilemma so immeasurable, it basically brimmed from every part of him, and the pulse pounding against my palm pumped even more rapid than what was already existing. Awkwardly, he swallowed a gulp of saliva and delicately peeled off my hand as he laboriously dragged himself into a seated position.

"C'mon, love," Charles beckoned, gesturing for me as he gently tapped on his inanimate thighs.

Baffled but equally eager, I strenuously crawled towards Charles and after much help in arranging my inoperable knees, I was finally straddling him. I stared into his eyes, horrified by the sudden pain glistening from deep within the crystal blue.

"Would you give me a kiss?" Charles requested genuinely but I gazed at him speechlessly, frankly dumbfounded.

"One I would never forget?" Charles elaborated with an earnest gaze and I frowned him weirdly, feeling myself spiral into a wilderness devoid of reality.

"I'm sorry?" I sputtered confusedly.

"Just kiss me, Lynn," he whispered, practically begging.

Without another thought, I plunged my lips onto his and it was like the raw vibrancy of brilliant fireworks had spontaneously exploded inside of me. As they passionately interacted, Charles groped my back and hair, securing me in his arms so tight it presented difficulty even for me to receive air.

Nevertheless, I was adamant to fulfill his needs more than just satisfactorily; resolutely persevering, I entangled our tongues violently and slammed them around the walls of his mouth.

While the romance kindled magically as usual, my heart was strangely struck with an intense pang as the palm I had residing on his face was shockingly met with something wet. Instantly, the tremble of his lips became apparent and my eyes automatically swelled with water as the unknown brutalities that tortured him threatened to burn me altogether.

Without warning, Charles broke away and pulled me dearly into his embrace. He held me rigidly, yet there was a terrible shake that plagued his frame.

"Was... Was that unforgettable enough?" I sought warily, tenderly stroking the tensed muscles of his back.

"It's perfect... You're always perfect," he wretchedly sobbed.

Gushing streams of fat, round, tears presumably flooded his precious face as he convulsively heaved over my shoulder. For an obscure period, he just cried, unceasingly and uncontrollably. His weeps were energetic and volatile, mercilessly ripping my heart apart, but just went I thought this would go on indefinitely, the howls of his suffering morphed into an extended silence, purely agonising.

"You're scaring me, my dear. Talk to me, please," I implored in a worried tone.

Gradually releasing his clutch on my night dress, albeit still with his fingers entwined between my blonde strands, Charles reclined into his pillow and looked at me with a forlorn gaze as I diligently wiped his face. Yet, there was no method sufficient to distract me from the fact that his eyes were incredibly tired, utterly defeated, and totally powerless.

"Do you remember, we studied our lineages when we were working on our theses?" Charles probed in a husky voice.

"Yes, why?" I unhesitatingly replied.

Fond memories swamped me as I vividly recalled the days we withdrew and examined each other's DNA. My gifts, then, had greatly increased the speed of our analyses even in the presence of Oxford's centrifuge equipment considered sophisticated at that time and one morning was all we needed to acquire the results we desired.

Raven's had displayed unprecedented regenerating capabilities, granting her the extremely recessive ability to retain her youth through the decades. I was proud that mine flaunted uncharted metabolism but prouder that Charles was apprehensive of its possibly detrimental effects alongside the predicted heart and asthmatic problems extrapolated from my blood sample.

Smitten by his interest, a glad smile nearly curved onto my lips, until I was hit with the dismaying realisation that it was his string which carried the most frightening information.

"No, no it's not happening, Charles," I disputed frantically, struggling to calm myself down.

"The symptoms are starting, Lynn," he claimed, spitefully shunning my gaze.

"No, you're just getting old," I persuaded with a positive expression as I dotingly cradled his skull.

"There's no point denying what's coming," he countered bitterly.

"You're overthinking, Charles. It's nothing," I reassured with an optimistic smile.

"It's not nothing!" Charles growled ferociously and my responsive parts jumped, almost losing balance as I lurched backwards, albeit only falling into the safety of his arms.

"I never misplace things, let alone the ones you give me," Charles admitted, dejectedly lowering his head, as he dwelled on the few recent occurrences his Montblanc had been caught elsewhere by others before I could secretly return it—while still conscientiously supporting my upright posture.

"And I never forget birthdays, let alone yours," he confessed shamefully, shivering in absolute embarrassment.

My body contrastingly froze, deciphering his muted and almost inaudible words. All of a sudden, it was like a prayer had been heard and answered, resolving all that odd behaviour. The uncharacteristic nonchalance was not supposed to be conceived as an element of surprise, but rather the very first signs.

Yet, it was not his accidental blunder that astonished me, but my negligence and complacency that had let the symptoms blatantly slip through the cracks.

"I'm afraid. I'm truly afraid I will forget you one day," Charles blurted fearfully as he gently caressed my face.