Mutations of the Heart
It had been five weeks since the mission to Cuba. Charles knew he was no longer able to walk; the doctors had informed of the fact as soon as he woke up. He had not experienced anything yet, as he did nothing but lay in bed. Hank was becoming worried about him.
“Professor?”
“Yes, Hank?”
“Charles, it’s been five weeks. You need to get out of bed, walk around.” He realized his mistake before he even finished the sentence. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s alright Hank. No harm was meant.” Pulling himself up, he suddenly felt a wave of nausea roiling inside of him. Before he could do anything he retched onto his bed spread.
“I’ll help you with that.” Hank came over, pulling the vomit covered spread from his bed.
“Please, Hank, let me.”
“It’s fine.” Another wave came over him. This time he was able to lean over and vomit onto the floor.
“I’ll clean that up to.”
“Hank, please.”
“No, I’ll get your wheelchair. You go shower and clean yourself up.” Charles didn’t need his powers to know the thoughts going through the young mutants mind. Pitysadnessembarssment.
“You might have a bug. If you want I can take you down to the lab and run some tests.”
“That would be sufficient.” Charles knew that Hank wanted to run the tests, didn’t trust the doctors in Miami. “I’ll come down when I’m ready.”
“I’ll be waiting.”