X-men: World of Gray

Chapter 6

Chapter 6…

Just past eleven at night, and Alex, Sean and Hank had made their way upstairs to their bedrooms. On the first floor, Charles lay in bed, working to pull his pajama pants to his waist. He was getting better at it, but just like everything else, it took time. He already had the pants' legs up to his thighs; as he took in a breath, he lifted his right arm. Jerking his upper body to the left, he rolled to his side and shimmied the right side of his pants to his hip. He did the same maneuver with the left, forcing his body the other way and wiggling the pants upwards.

Little victories. That's what Edie called them.

But Charles wasn't going to bed—there was too much to be done. He needed to inspect renovations completed that day, which was nearly impossible since he couldn't get to the second and third floors. But the first floor required so much more attention. The living room, kitchen and dining room were there, not to mention the entrances. He had a ramp installed for the front door, but not the back or sides. And the yard…the gravel pathways still needed to be paved over or he'd never see his lawn again. Even his motorized wheelchair had tantrums with the gravel.

There was also the school to consider. He had to get a teaching license from the state of New York and because he had graduated from Oxford, the international issue was becoming a process. Paperwork was piled up on his desk like miniature skyscrapers.

Past midnight, and Charles had made his way into his study. The blue curtains were drawn from the windows; outside, the moon shimmered a diamond white. As he sat behind his desk, his teal green and gold lamp warmed his hands as he continued rummaging through his notes. He'd already skimmed through them twice that night, but he always caught more to revise with each passing.

But the words were becoming blurry. His own writing was getting sloppy. With a shake of his head, Charles grabbed the cup of tea to his right and took a sip. He blinked until the focus returned and got back to his papers.

"Charles?" a voice called from the study's entrance.

Raising his head, Charles spotted the blue, furry figure of Hank McCoy from the half-opened door. "Yes, my friend?" he said with a welcoming grin.

Hank entered, hesitantly shutting the door behind him. Charles' grin fell.

"It's almost one in the morning," Hank said as he stopped in front of Charles' desk.

Furrowing his brow, Charles shook his pajama sleeve away from his wristwatch and gave a nod. "So it is. Is that relevant somehow?"

"Yeah…yeah, it is."

Charles studied his friend. The grim look on Hank's face made it clear this wasn't just about the late hour.

"We need to talk," Hank said as if he had something sour in his mouth.

Reluctantly, Charles lowered his pen to the desk. "All right."

Hank's expression didn't relax at that; it held firm—a mix of determination and concern. A man ready for confrontation.

Splendid.

"This isn't healthy, Charles," Hank started and made a sweeping gesture to the desk and all its papers. "I know you're working hard to build this school, but these long nights…they have to stop."

Charles cleared his throat. "Don't you think you're exaggerating this just a touch?"

"No—no, not really. Look, I understand that Alex and Sean think you're okay—that you're doing great—but I'm…well—"

"You don't agree with them," Charles finished. As he stared at his friend, Charles finally released a breath a laughter. "Hank, I know you've been concerned about me. And I deeply appreciate the sentiment, but…" he sighed, "truth be told, I've been concerned about you. You haven't left the mansion since your transformation. You spend most of your time in the basement. Surely, we can find a better solution—"