Not even a week after Sean's death, Charles decided to shut the school down.
The quintuplets were gone in a flash and while part of Heather had cared for the odd girls, she knew that they had one another and that they were smart - they'd be fine. Eva went home soon after, her brown eyes filling with tears as they said their goodbyes, and Heather held on tightly, wishing with all her might that she didn't have to lose someone else.
Only Hank, Charles, Heather and the twins remained.
And the mansion had never seemed emptier.
Hank tried to spend more time with the twins, trying to fill the suddenly empty voids left in their lives, and Heather was grateful for that, as she had another pressing matter.
Charles.
He had taken to staying in his office until early morning and then sleeping until noon, in which the cycle would repeat. He barely ate and he barely spoke to any of them. Heather knew his heart was hurting from losing his students and losing Sean - but they were hurting too, they needed him.
-------------
"Mommy?"
Heather rolled onto her side, eyes blinking as she focused on the figure in the doorway. Wanda stood silently in her red nightgown (red had always been her favorite color), her little shoulders hunched and her messy curls getting in her face.
"What's wrong, baby?" Heather asked softly, pulling back her covers as her daughter raced to her side of the bed, climbing onto it with a little struggle. Wanda practically threw herself into Heather's lap, her face resting against her neck, and Heather's hair ran through her curls.
"Uncle Charlie thinks too loud."
Heather's hand stopped suddenly, her dark brown eyes blinking in confusion. "What do you mean?"
"He's having a bad dream, mommy. And I can see it."
A telepath, Heather thought for a moment, before she realized that Charles most likely had no control over his power and was probably projecting his dream. "I'll talk to Uncle Charlie tomorrow, okay? How about you sleep in here? Just for tonight?"
Wanda's face brightened and Heather was shocked for a second by how much she really looked like her and Erik. She had Erik in her blue-gray eyes and in her curls, but that was Heather's smile and her nose.
Just as she laid Wanda down and started to tuck her in, Heather caught sight of Pietro wandering into the room, his brown hair sticking up in every direction, as he rubbed his brown eyes sleepily. "Can I sleep in here too?" He asked, and Heather picked him up, unable to say no.
---------------
Charles relocated his bedroom after that, staying as far away from the others' bedrooms as possible. And to try and help, Hank gave some his serum to see if it help with his nightmares.
Charles had seemed at peace at first, more so than he had in a few months, but later that night, the sound of glass breaking filled the hallways.
"Mommy!" Pietro cried out, but Heather shoved him into his sister's room, after the two tried to run to Charles' room - the source of the noise. "No! Stay here! I'll right back!"
Heather and Hank entered the room quickly, and both were horrified by the sight before them. Charles' wheelchair was in the corner of the room, along with shards of broken glass from a vase of some kind. Charles was laying in the middle of the floor, his hands pressed to his ears, his eyes clamped shut.
"Charles," Heather called out softly, making her way slowly to his side. "Charles," she tried again, with no response, except for the whimpers that fell from his lips. "They're driving me mad," he whimpered almost to himself.
The moment Heather placed her hands on Charles' shoulders, she felt intense pain in her mind - she heard screaming, so screaming, and she could feel everyone's pain, oh god, people were pain and she could feel - Hank ripped her away from Charles and Heather let out a few deep breaths, as Hank tried shaking her, his calls of her name falling to ringing ears.
"Heather!" The ringing finally stopped, and she stared at Hank in horror. "What? What did you see?"
Charles sat up at that moment, seeming to be in control of himself once more. "I was overwhelmed by the intensity of others' minds after being under the effect of the serum," he responded gruffly to no one in general, "I'm fine."
"Charles - " Heather started, but the man's eyes snapped to her's and - something was different. He looked broken and wounded, almost like an animal being cornered. "Please leave," he ordered. Heather and Hank stared at him in shock, before he responded louder, "Do I have to repeat myself? Get out."
And so they did.
----------------
"Mommy! Come quick! Pietro's hurt!"
Heather's heart skipped a beat and she nearly threw her groceries to ground. "Like need a bandaid hurt or need an ambulance hurt?" She asked, but of course, her four year old had already ran up the stairs, leaving her with no idea on what to expect.
When she finally managed to get upstairs and find her children, Pietro was on the ground, tears pouring down his little puffy face and Heather really wanted to cry to. "What's wrong, honey?" Heather asked, as she kneeled down beside him.
Pietro tried to sit up, but he winced and burst into tears. "We - we were playing tag and - and I hit the door."
Heather blinked at that. "You walked into the door?"
"I - I don't know how," he sobbed, "I was in my room and - and then I was here." That caught her attention. "Did you run?"
"I - I was going to but I hit the d-door."
Now Heather was defiantly curious. "Let me see," she asked, before running her hand along his forehead. It was red and Heather figured he was going to have a nice bruise there (Perfect, she thought, just in time for the first day of school.), but she didn't see anything too bad.
"Let's get you an ice pack, tough guy, then we'll talk more."
------------------
After the ice pack and laughter soothed his headache, Hank and Heather led Pietro outside. "Okay, baby, I want you to run for me."
"Why?"
"Just because."
"Why?"
"We want to see."
That seemed like a good enough answer, as Pietro nodded his head and - left behind a strong gust of wind. Heather blinked and then blinked again when she noticed her son standing a good ten yards from them. "Did he just - " Hank turned to look at her in shock, before calling out, "Come here, Pietro!"
And he was there in a flash, a toothy grin on his face.
Pietro had super speed.
------------------
The next day, Heather noticed something odd while running her hands through Pietro's hair. His roots - were blonde. Not just blonde, but platinum, almost looking white against his pale skin.
"Is it part of his mutation?" She asked Charles, who examined the boy's head himself. "It must be," Charles responded, before ruffling Pietro's hair (throughout the day it was slowly becoming more and more blonde) and sending the giggling boy off to play with his sister.
Heather leaned against Charles' desk, before adding, "Wanda's jealous."
"Mhhm?"
"She's jealous. She keeps trying to run and she's getting angry that she's not running like Pietro." Heather thought of her daughter asking Pietro to teach her how to run like him and getting frustrated to the point of coming inside to ask if Heather could teach her how to talk to ghosts.
"What if she's human? What if she feels alone here? What if she wants to leave?" Maybe Heather was blowing this out of proportions, but she didn't want her daughter to feel worthless or different or - feel bad for being human. Charles let out a chuckle, and Heather sighed. "Don't laugh at me."
"No, no, my dear. Its nice that you're worried for her. But remember, most mutations don't start until puberty. She could still be a mutant." That calmed a few of her fears, though she cracked a smile, adding, "You try telling her that."
Charles let out another laugh and Heather decided that that - that right there - was a sound she had missed dearly.
Her eyes, however, caught the sight of something troublingly. Empty beer cans, empty bottles of alcohol. "Charles," Heather asked, "When did you - "
" - It helps," was all that Charles responded. And Heather shook her head. "Having a drink every so often, that's okay, but Charles, this much alcohol, I don't want you drinking this much, especially with the kids around." Charles put his hands up defensively, a small smile on his face. "Alright. I'll cut down."
------------------
Heather straightened Wanda's bow and ran her hand through Pietro's now completely blonde hair for fifth time that morning.
Wanda had the sweetest red dress and Pietro had the cutest overalls, and Heather just wanted to cuddle them and keep them home all day instead of sending them to school - but she really didn't have a choice anymore, especially since she could see the yellow school bus just up the gravel road.
She had walked down the line to stand at the mailbox with them, so that she could give them both one last kiss and hug before they stepped onto the bus.
"Got your back packs?" Heather asked, and the two excitedly spun around, showing off their matching bookbags. "And your lunch?" Their metal lunchboxes had cartoon characters that Heather didn't recognize, but the two seemed to love.
Just as the bus pulled up, Heather wrapped her arms around both of them and took turns pressing kisses to her babies' cheeks. "I love you," she said, as they both giggled and Wanda yelled, "Love you, mommy!", and Pietro shouted, "Love you too!"
Then they both made their way onto the bus and Heather was left standing and waving, feeling a shocking amount of loneliness for the first time in five years.
------------------
A few nights later, after the twins had finished their homework and gone to bed, Heather noticed Charles' office light was still on. Entering to playfully tell him off, she was shocked by what she say.
Beer cans, bottles of different kinds of alcohol, and Charles - Charles taking a swig of a bottle of scotch.
"Charles!" Heather called out, feeling rather shocked and angry. The man lowered the bottle, his eyes slowly reaching her's and - now she was defiantly angry. He was completely and utterly drunk.
"I thought I said cut down on the booze," she snapped, and Charles rolled his eyes. "This is my house," he slurred, "I can do what I want."
"I said I didn't want you drinking around them. And I defiantly don't want them to see you like this."
"See me like what? See me not half-insane because of the voices? See me at peace? See me - "
" - Drunk, Charles. I don't want them seeing you drunk."
Charles narrowed his eyes at her. "Maybe you should just leave then," he claimed, his voice icy, and Heather stopped breathing for a moment, her eyes widening. "Maybe I should," she responded, her voice cracking more than she wished it would. And with that, she turned on her heel and exited the room.
She didn't talk to him after that, spending her days in the lab with Hank or being anywhere Charles wasn't, and she kept her kids away from him as much as possible - especially when he now seemed to always be drunk, his entire presense reeking of stale alcohol.