「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

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"My sister bought that for me when she visited China last year," I remarked in fascination, gazing at the pulverized remnants of oriental porcelain.

"And this was a ruby anniversary present from my husband," I divulged laughingly, levitating the remains of the wrecked photo frame neatly onto my workspace.

"Does... Does that mean I'm expelled?" She sputtered worriedly but I just gazed at her with an unreserved smile.

"On the contrary—you're enrolled," I gladly asserted and her shoulders sagged as she beamed at her dearest kin in ultimate relief.

"Why my thesis?" I examined interestedly.

"This girl has to be your most avid of admirers," her father claimed, chuckling, and she blushed at his exaggerated tone, elatedly hugging the thick reprint.

"As the distressing pain recedes beyond the skin, a profound fear develops. Etched is a vivid memory that sparks the very fabrication of a delicate—imaginary—line between the tenacious survivor who outlives his adversities and the one who buckles weakly, and anonymously. The broken are the more evolved, said simply," she recited with sheer exuberance and I grinned, deliriously flattered by her fluent quote extracted from my conclusion.

"Genetics is certainly a fine read for a whiz of your merit," I praised, promptly recognizing her genius-level intellect.

"What is your name, my darling?" I pried, gazing at her excitedly.

"Lynn," she unveiled with pride.

Temporarily, everything froze for me. The environment spiraled into a nearly silent void and I could almost hear every rhythmic palpitation of my heart amidst the faint chirps of the casually basking birds.

Quickly, as my reflexes miraculously rekindled, I flipped through the documents Logan offered up previously and after several pages of excellent report cards was a yellowed birth certificate. I skimmed the details lettered in classic bolded Courier, learning second most strikingly her birthdate that was just days away from Rachel's.

"Short for Lynette..." I blurted in wonderment, eyes glued to the familiar array of alphabets.

"My wife and I found the name extremely compelling," James enthusiastically admitted.

"Of course..." I murmured, nodding.

"And she's not here today?" I enquired softly and watched as his Adam's apple bobbed in an ominous, awkward, motion.

"She's gone," he dolefully mentioned.

Not resisting the urge, finally, I delved into his mind, divining the tragic scenes of Amy's death in labour that were harrowing enough to nullify that partial comfort, immediately inducing a torrent of tears.

"I am so, so, sorry, for your loss," I sobbed, cupping my mouth in agony.

"Rest assured that your daughter will be secured a place with us," I croaked as I hastily wiped my embarrassing face.

"Logan... Um... Please see that Mr. McAvoy and his daughter... Um..." I instructed in a faltering attempt.

"Get to Jubilee for registration?" Logan predicted accurately.

"Yes. And um..." I fumbled with my tongue as my incapacitated mind failed to function again.

"To Kurt for the accommodations," Logan supplemented in a pompous, and marginally mocking, tone and I just nodded furiously.

"Yes, yes. Thank you, Logan," I acknowledged politely and Logan dutifully ushered them towards the exit.

"There is something else, actually..." James confessed in a mysterious tone like his recollections of me existed not just as mere fragments of the author his daughter devotedly worshipped and I frantically shot my eyes up, breaths accelerating, as he paused by my door.

"I read, in your leaflet, that parents have the priority to sign up as volunteers and possibly even as a staff at your institution?" James questioned with tentativeness.

"Indeed..." I replied in respite and only peeled my eyes off him after too long a gawk.

"Um... The issue of employment is actually governed by my husband but he is, unfortunately, out of the country at the moment," I elaborated and with a civil, but disappointed, smile, James turned his back.

"But... If you would, so kindly, leave your resume... I will personally see that it reaches him," I vouched quietly, struggling to distract myself with the loving portrait of Charles and I.

Expeditiously, James scrambled over and I glared at him in shock as he eagerly took my hand, furnishing it with a moderately creased envelope. Just as mindlessly, he released his grasp and recoiled back, like he had awakened from a trance or possessed state.

"Thank you... Mrs. Xavier," James whispered, gazing at me with a great deal of tenderness, and it seemed just as difficult a task for him to strip his eyes away.

James threw constant, and weird, glances back at me and liters of water, like that repressed in a congested pipe abruptly unclogged, fervently drained down my face as he totally disappeared beyond my office's walls and only when the physical source exhausted did all the weeping stop.

Tired, confused, and awfully destabilized, I roamed aimlessly around the mansion grounds on my advanced hovering chair, tailored to be manipulated only by its user's unique telepathic wavelength, ignorant that I had been tailed until I arrived by the tree house.

"I wish to be alone, Erik," I requested pleadingly but he was irritably defiant.

"Charles said-" Erik retorted typically as my delegated bodyguard while Charles was away.

"Charles said to look after me, not look at me!" I snarled in frustration.

"Please!" I begged without patience.

"If you need anything, do call," Erik insisted and I sighed, slouching in fatigue.

Lynn? Charles rang sweetly, just as Erik retreated warily, but I gasped, jumping.

I'm sorry, did I scare you? Charles sought earnestly but I just chuckled.

I'm sorry, did I wake you? I mirrored, noting my afternoon and his pre-dawn hour across the globe in Melbourne, but he just chuckled.

What's wrong? You're hurt. And distraught, Charles highlighted in a dainty but considerably startled tone.

He's here, I alerted miserably.

Who? Charles clarified in bewilderment.

James. He found us; he found me, I answered, shaking.