November, 1962
"Hank! Hank, can you come up for a minute?", Charles yelled and after a moment added „And bring the mail, will you?"
Of course Hank obeyed. It had not been easy for Charles Xavier after all, and at least he did not call him Beast.
A week ago, the last students of the School had left and now they were alone. And if one could not cope with the empty house it was Charles. He had been incredibly moody, during the last days, but Hank understood. In fact, noone else was left to even try to understand so Hank just had to.
"Morning, Professor", the blue mutant greeted his friend.
"Good morning", Charles replied from his bed and gestured for Hank to help him into the wheelchair.
"How are things going with the serum you're working on?", Charles, now sitting in his wheelchair, asked casually as they went down the hall towards his office. Hank caught a glimpse of hope, however, even though the Professor did try to seem as relaxed as possible.
"Almost finished. Here's the mail you asked for."
"Thank you", Charles said and quickly went through the letters and postcards.
"Did you also get the newspaper?", the professor asked curiously after he had finished.
Hank nodded as they arrived in the kitchen. He poured his friend a nice warm cup of coffee and handed him the news.
It was just frustrating, the professor thought as he scanned the articles. No new mutants and nothing new of Raven or Magneto. He sighed. But what was even the point of it? Noone seemed to care, so why should he? He did not want to try and establish a school, which noone would visit. It would never work out, anyways.
They had tried before, and then war came and he was left alone with Hank in this big mansion.
This big, empty mansion, in which he would probably spend the rest of his life because he did not have the nerves to go out there, in his wheelchair, where he would hear all of these voices and people would look at him strangely.
In all of this time he had not understood Raven, and now that he was gone.
Why hadn't he been able to before?
God, the noise inside his head.
Hopefully, Hank would not take too long to find the cure.
While Charles Xavier tried to face his supposed fate, Maelys Wibaux took her destiny into her own hands. She buttoned up her coat, took her suitcase and followed her mother outside the small house in Créteil:
"I told you, you didn't need to drop me off; it wouldn't bother me at all to take a bus or something."
"Non, non. My daughter visits me so rarely, she might at least give me the joy of bringing her to the airport and make my farewell there. Besides, as I know you, you would only miss your flight."
"Oh, Maman", Maelys rolled her eyes and put her suitcase in the trunk of the small VW her mother drove.
"Are you sure you want to take this job?", Vivianne Wibaux asked her daughter as they left the driveway.
"I have already agreed."
Maelys looked out of the window, taking in France for it would be a long time until she returned.
"Bon", her mother said and the younger woman knew by the sound of her voice that she was not happy with the situation.
"It is a good job", Maelys tried to explain „I will get payed very well, better than now and I get to see more of the world. Isn't this what you have always wanted?"
Vivianne sighed.
"Of course, I did", she said as she maneuvered them through the traffic of the Parisien suburbs.
"So?", Maelys asked, now looking at her mother.
"So, I want you to be happy. It's only that... New York is a bit far away. It was difficult enough when you were in Munich or Praque."
"It doesn't make a real difference, though", Maelys said softly.
Her mother sighed and turned left to the airport:
"I wish you would stay at home", she said as she stopped the car.
She looked at her daughter and Maelys could not ignore that her mother was about to shed some tears:
"Oh Maman, I am 26 years old!", she said, partly laughing, partly soothing "Don't worry."
"You know, I always do", the older woman said, now smiling at her daughter "And I want you to know, ma cherie, that wherever you are, I do love you."
"With all my heart", Maelys added as she smiled and took her mothers hand.
"Qui", Vivianne said "with all my heart."
It was not the first time, Maelys stept foot in a plane, though it was the first time for her to go overseas. She found her seat quickly and took a book out of her bag before she put it to safety.
Of course reading woud be helpful, as she was so very excited. A bit too excited as she did not even open the book. Instead Maelys thought about the future – All of those possibilities!
Her new job as a correspondant for Le Monde would be a challenge, but one of the good kind and she was truly excited at the prospect of it. Thankfully, her employer had already found a flat for her... or should she say apartment now? Anyways, she would have a great time there, she was sure of it.
Maelys looked at the book in her hands.
It was „The Picture of Dorian Gray", a book Charles had sent to her for her birthday. Inside there was a postcard she now used as a bookmark with a photograph of Oscar Wilde himself on it.
She turned it around and read again the lines her friend had written on it, just as if she would read them for the first time.
A truly philosophical piece of literature, I know.
Maybe not fitting for a 26th birthday (hopefully, a happy one!) but definitely fitting for the Millie I know.
And don't you never wonder about right or wrong?
It had arrived only two weeks ago, some days after her birthday and she had not had the chance to read it until now.
And now that she did have the time, she did not have the spirits.
"Well, hello", someone pulled her out of her thoughts.
A young man, only some years her elder, sat down next to her. His dark hair was combed back and allowed a free view of his spectacularly blue eyes which belonged to an undeniably handsome but quite serious face.
"Good afternoon, sir", she replied, her English still a bit rusty.
"Going to Idlewild, too?"
"Yes", she smiled.
"You are French, aren't you?", he asked.
"Qui", Maelys replied, a bit taken aback. Was her accent this strong? „You are not."
"No, I am not indeed", he said and relaxed into his seat.
After some moments of silence Maelys had the courage to ask: „Where are you from, then?"
"From nowhere", he answered, a slight smile playing on his lips.
About a week later
Every day started just like the day before, Xavier thought as he awakened lying in bed.
"Hank", he yelled, his face blank.
"Good morning, Professor."
It seemed just as if Hank had been waiting in the hallway for Charles to wake up. He smiled brightly but...
"Hank, what has happened?", suddenly Xavier was wide awake. His normally blue, furry friend now seemed like a completely ordinary human.
"The serum, Professor", the mutant replied „guess it works."
"Guess so", Xavier mumbled, as he stared at his friend, completely fascinated.
"I made a few adjustments, too. If you take this", he handed the professor a syringe "you should be able to walk again. Though I fear it might effect your abilities..."
"Well, this might be even...better", Charles hesitated but finally injected the serum.
It had occurred to Hank that his friend had some issues, of course; but it seemed only natural to him after what Charles had gone through. He had tried to comfort him, though, even if that might have not worked out quite well. The serum was the least he could do to help the Professor.
He dared not to watch the man reacting to it and turned away towards the window.
It had been cold those last few days; the sky was grey and a bunch of birds were flying south. The trees in the garden had already lost their leaves and Hank wondered once again about the workings of nature, as he thought about how the exact same place had looked only some months ago.
"Well", a familiar voice spoke beside him "it is a strange season, isn't it? Autumn always makes me become so sentimental."
Hank turned to look at Charles and indeed he was standing next to him, looking out of the window.
"I know the feeling. How are you, Professor?", he asked, a little surprised, though he knew he should not be.
"Exceptionally well, thank you."
They exchanged a smile until something startled the once blue mutant:
"Oh, sorry, Professor, I almost forgot. Today's mail."
He handed Charles a pack of letters and postcards.
"Thanks", he said and sat down on his bed. Hank knew he was dismissed now and left quietly.
It was the third letter that got Charles' attention:
Dear Charles,
I thank you very much for the book, though I have to admit I don't know when I will have the time to read it. My boss asked me if I wanted to be a correspondant for the newspaper I work for, and now guess where: In New York!
This, of course, means that we have to meet up, no matter if you want to, it's just an order. I will write you again as soon as I have a telephone number and address to give to you.
I do hope you will be delighted at the news, though.
Isn't it crazy how we were more acquaintances than friends during University? Well, maybe in the end, we were friends. Now, however, I could hardly imagine life without writing to you.
Strange, how words can build friendship, even if the addressant is on the other side of the world.
My birthday was very nice, by the way, you should have been there! It was a big celebration and even Tom and Margaret came all the way from England.
Your card got me thinking, though.
„And don't you never wonder about right and wrong?"
A very cryptic remark, my good sir, and most definitely one with a thought behind it.
Care to share?
Well, I might as well tell you about my associations with this quote of the incredible Professor Charles Xavier. (You might have heard of him. He is indeed still quite young, but brilliant. The world has not seen the last of him, I am sure.)
Right and Wrong, those are quite classic words, don't you think?
Very black and white, and I have come to notice that our minds often work that way, even if we'd like to think more in shades of grey.
It was a pretty tricky question you asked me in the card, especially as it was the time in which I decided to go to New York.
And I did think about right or wrong, black and white, pros and cons.
Yes, you would not believe it: I made a list.
New York won in the end, though it was actually a tie on the list. In the end, I guess the heart decides. Hopefully it was right, in this case. And there we go again: Right.
It is hard to define the meaning of the word. It could mean appropriate, correct or proper...
But the answer is easy really: What is wrong for someone might be right for someone else; hence appropriate. Then of course there have things happened which are undeniably wrong: War, murders, abuse.
Now we are hitting morals, I guess, and ideals. But don't ideals change with time?
You see, Charles, I most certainly think about right and wrong a lot, in this case though. In the end, I guess, right and wrong are only constructs, each of them a personal, individual one, so everyone has to deal with their ideals themselves.
Anyways, I hope you do not think of yourself as a bad person. Maybe you did something wrong, as your above question suggests. But perhaps you only think it was wrong in hindsight? Or you think it was wrong and in hindsight it will prove it actually was the right thing?
In any case, I know you are good; your heart is.
Please write soon!
I hope you are well,
Lots of love
Millie
Charles smiled. Of course she had noticed and of course she did care. The oh so long discussion of right and wrong was typical, Millie always analysed his every word, but often enough this was exactly what he needed.
Title inspired by the song by Mike Sarne (1962). Hope you liked it!