「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(340) Ugly

Xavier's School, November 2006

Lynn's POV

Experimental tests ordered by Charles returned with positive results that verified his initial, bold, hypothesis. Indeed, the temporary remedy for our backs possessed the potential to wipe out Stryker's cure from our systems, albeit at rates uncharted.

After a total of four doses, a minute improvement was finally glimpsed as a marginal but steady decrease in the suppressive antigen count was noted but this was only the case for me. Conceivably deeper and more permanent damage had been done to Hank and Lorna, rendering their restoration even slower, though theoretically still possible.

Careful measures were employed not to leak the delicate information but even when Erik was miles away—persuaded to rejoin the common life at the Maximoff household—he somehow received wind that the answer to his current predicament laid within the Xavier Mansion.

While Charles warmly welcomed an influx of our kind, refugees, survivors and children alike, who voluntarily joined our family following the nearly apocalyptic occasion, he was contrastingly, and unexpectedly, resolved to declining Erik from the premises.

His multiple attempts, although extraneously sincere, were outrightly ignored throughout the past month of my vital rehabilitation as Charles admittedly focused most of his attention tending to my wounds and illnesses.

As I eventually reconciled myself with the appalling sight, his psychic protection could be abolished and Charles engaged the serum himself to, in his words, better care for me. Needless to say, I was critically confined to our bed and with sparing energy to truly participate in any fruitful debate, I reluctantly condoned his frivolous behavior.

The lack of the mutant X gene in my body was unmistakably responsible for the heightened vulnerability and my sluggish recovery. Only after two agonizing weeks, while battling a recurring flu, did the severe swelling in my horribly fractured leg reduce sufficiently for it to be properly bound in plaster.

Predictably, regardless that immobilization was apparent and elevation was in abundance, the vexing throbbing never seemed to cease even under the influence of allegedly potent medications that I neglected them altogether.

Unfortunately, the routine arrival of winter only painted the draggy hours in colors more bleak. Numerous forms of entertainment had regrettably lost their appeal in amusement and every waking moment was a tedious search to uncover its enjoyable portions amidst the searing twinges.

Never in my life have I ever imagined I would one day actually wish to be a paraplegic but if there was ever a time it would materialise, that time was now.

Although it appeared that Charles' presence was the most efficient solution to my boredom, albeit only in moderate magnitudes, it was too unbecoming to occupy him completely, especially when the suddenly expanded school necessarily warranted his expertise.

With great effort and almost every exhaustible argument, I managed to convince Charles to resume his teaching duties, albeit only partially. Yet, those first couple of periods he was gone always elapsed like I was a snail dreaming of finishing on the other end of the boulevard.

Today, the whopping monotony even triumphed over Jane Austen and I dozed off until the doors slowly creaked open. All sleep had been light with the dull sores churning tirelessly in the background and the slightest sounds were, frankly, in full adequacy to disrupt that.