It's five o'clock in the morning, and once again, I have awoken to find myself alone. It's been over a week since that night in the gardens and I have not seen or heard from Mystique since then.
She was so full of pain and anger that night, and looking back now, I cannot blame her for her actions. Charles and I had been spending hours at a time in the laboratory, searching for the antidote. It was so frustrating, every turn we took led us to a dead end.
Mystique had been through enough, and I didn't want to aggravate her further with the news that we had tried a dozen things already with minimal results. I wanted to tell her something, anything, to give her hope, but there was nothing to tell.
No doubt she felt that I was keeping secrets from her, but how could I have told her that we had no idea how to cure her?
She found out the truth in the worst way possible.
I was holding Mystique in my arms that night, looking down at the unfamiliar vixen that shared my bed. She had never before shown me her human form; I hadn't really thought about it before.
On occasion, I had heard some of Charles's students discussing the beautiful blonde woman; and I believe the words 'total hottie' and 'sexy' were used. I paid it no mind, of course, that was just locker room talk.
Mystique's human face is lovely, but to me she will always be most beautiful when she's blue.
I was contemplating these exact sentiments when Charles called out to me.
'Eric, please come to my office, it's important.'
He sounded very serious; perhaps he had found a cure? I could only hope so.
I stroked Mystique's face with the backs of my fingers before I left her side.
I had no idea that she followed me.
Charles sat there behind his desk, the past month's disappointment clear in every line on his face. I sat down before him.
I asked him why he asked me to his office, and he told me.
"Do you understand, Eric? It may not be possible for Mystique to recover her lost ability. She may have to live the rest of her life as a human."
I did not get the chance to reply, as a crash from the hallway drew both of our attention. I opened the office doors and saw a shattered vase on the floor, but more importantly, a woman fleeing the scene.
"Oh, God, it's Mystique!" Her movements were erratic; no doubt she had heard everything.
As any concerned lover would, I went after her.
Past the grassy perimeter lawn, through the flower gardens and over the rocks, Mystique had finally stopped running. I saw her there, looking so pale and fragile in the moonlight. She was crouched in the water, slapping the surface.
I called out to her, to try to explain what Charles had said. But she would have none of it; she kept insisting that our relationship would crumble because of what was done to her. Why couldn't she believe that I cared only about her, not her mutation? I would love her just the same, no matter what shape she took.
I tried to calm her down, I took her hands in mine, but it only made her more upset.
She slapped me.
During the course of any relationship, arguments will arise. Ours was no different, we've had our spats, but they had never before turned physical. In all our years, I had never touched her in anger. Naturally, I was upset. Not because she hit me; but because she seemed to have no faith in my feelings for her, and it was I who had hurt her so much. I am the one to blame for everything that's happened.
I left her in the garden, and went right back to my workstation. Charles was wrong, there was a cure, and I would find it.
*****^^^^^
There are times in a man's life when he must confide in friends.
Charles has been a good friend to me, despite everything we have done to each other in the past. We had spent hours together everyday in the lab, working to find an antidote, a cure, for Mystique. He wanted to prevent the serum from spreading to other mutants, and while I truly did want that same thing, I wanted my Mystique back.
I don't know if Charles had any thoughts on the relationship Mystique and I shared, but if he did, he had kept them to himself. He had never asked, and I had never told him anything about it.
However, Charles doesn't miss much, and it has nothing to do with him being a psychic.
A few days after Mystique left, he decided to bring up the subject.
We had finished our work one night, and were walking beside each other through the hallway.
"Eric, why don't you step into my office for a bit?"
I followed him inside, and sat across from his desk. He poured me a scotch.
"So, how are you holding up?" he asked.
"What do you mean Charles?" I said, feigning ignorance.
"Oh, come off it, Eric! You can't hold out on me."
"Are you snooping in my mind again, Charles? You know that's dangerous territory."
"I'm not reading your mind, Eric, I promise you I'm not. In any case, I wouldn't need to."
"What are you getting at?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes. We both knew what he was talking about, but he knew that I would not voluntarily discuss it; as a rule, I like to keep my personal relationships private.
"Mystique's departure. You've been working twice as hard since she left, but you've also been pretending that it doesn't bother you in the least."
"Well, she's a grown woman, and free to do what she wishes."
"Eric, we've been more or less friends for years. After all that time, I think you owe me a little honesty."
"What would you like to hear from me Charles? That when Mystique and I left the school we eloped and then adopted Pyro?" I joked, despite the fact that it wasn't very far from the truth.
"That would be a good start. Why are you being so evasive, Eric? What is it, do you think that once I learn the true nature of your relationship I'd use it to my advantage? That I'd hurt Mystique to hurt you?"
I shrugged. "The thought has crossed my mind."
"Oh, for goodness' sake Eric, I'm not you!"
We both laughed at that. It might have seemed strange, two sometimes enemies sipping scotch and talking about women, but to us it felt completely normal. As if the past betrayals and such had never occurred, and we were back to the way things were in better days. Back when we were nothing if not best friends.
I was tired of evading his questions, so I decided to drop the act, and let him find out for himself.
I poured another scotch for myself, and then another for Charles. "You know Charles, if you want honesty, you know how to get it."
"What?"
"You heard me, I'm giving you an open invitation."
Charles seemed both hesitant and tempted. I know that he was insatiably curious about what had happened when Mystique and I left the school. After all, we had only come face to face a few times in all the years since then.
Curiosity, it seems, won out over hesitation.
He knocked back the rest of his drink, and leaned forward in his chair.
I did the same, and within seconds, I could feel him gently probe my mind.
He pushed past my wall of defenses, until my mind was completely vulnerable.
Through my memories, Charles witnessed everything. The first time Mystique and I met in my classroom, the way we contrived our first plan together.
He saw through my point of view how angry I became when we were found out.
Charles and I relived the first few weeks that Mystique and I spent together away from the school.
He saw- much better than I had- the exact moment when I began to care for my student more than any teacher should. In turn, Charles saw how Mystique's love for me grew as mine did for her.
He watched as we built the island, how our bond grew stronger now that we shared a home.
He watched as we embraced as lovers rather than friends for the first time.
He saw how that together, Mystique and I were infinitely stronger than when we were alone. He could see our triumphs and failures.
Her injury, my imprisonment, our reunion.
He could feel how deeply I loved her.
He relieved the day when he almost killed her at the lake; he then saw how Mystique and I manipulated him, and he felt how sorry I was.
'It didn't have to come to this... but now it has.'
He saw what happened that night in the garden, and then he broke the connection.
"Eric, I'm so sorry, I had no idea!"
"It's quite alright, Charles, you didn't know."
"We'll find a cure for her, Eric. All we need is time, but we will find it."
"I hope you're right Charles. And on that note, I'll see you in the lab tomorrow morning. Thank you for the drink."
*^*^*^*^*^*
That had been eight days ago, and we are still trying to find the cure. I know that we will find the cure, but my only concern is that by the time we find it, will Mystique still want to be her mutant self?
She was so full of pain and anger that night, and looking back now, I cannot blame her for her actions. Charles and I had been spending hours at a time in the laboratory, searching for the antidote. It was so frustrating, every turn we took led us to a dead end.
Mystique had been through enough, and I didn't want to aggravate her further with the news that we had tried a dozen things already with minimal results. I wanted to tell her something, anything, to give her hope, but there was nothing to tell.
No doubt she felt that I was keeping secrets from her, but how could I have told her that we had no idea how to cure her?
She found out the truth in the worst way possible.
I was holding Mystique in my arms that night, looking down at the unfamiliar vixen that shared my bed. She had never before shown me her human form; I hadn't really thought about it before.
On occasion, I had heard some of Charles's students discussing the beautiful blonde woman; and I believe the words 'total hottie' and 'sexy' were used. I paid it no mind, of course, that was just locker room talk.
Mystique's human face is lovely, but to me she will always be most beautiful when she's blue.
I was contemplating these exact sentiments when Charles called out to me.
'Eric, please come to my office, it's important.'
He sounded very serious; perhaps he had found a cure? I could only hope so.
I stroked Mystique's face with the backs of my fingers before I left her side.
I had no idea that she followed me.
Charles sat there behind his desk, the past month's disappointment clear in every line on his face. I sat down before him.
I asked him why he asked me to his office, and he told me.
"Do you understand, Eric? It may not be possible for Mystique to recover her lost ability. She may have to live the rest of her life as a human."
I did not get the chance to reply, as a crash from the hallway drew both of our attention. I opened the office doors and saw a shattered vase on the floor, but more importantly, a woman fleeing the scene.
"Oh, God, it's Mystique!" Her movements were erratic; no doubt she had heard everything.
As any concerned lover would, I went after her.
Past the grassy perimeter lawn, through the flower gardens and over the rocks, Mystique had finally stopped running. I saw her there, looking so pale and fragile in the moonlight. She was crouched in the water, slapping the surface.
I called out to her, to try to explain what Charles had said. But she would have none of it; she kept insisting that our relationship would crumble because of what was done to her. Why couldn't she believe that I cared only about her, not her mutation? I would love her just the same, no matter what shape she took.
I tried to calm her down, I took her hands in mine, but it only made her more upset.
She slapped me.
During the course of any relationship, arguments will arise. Ours was no different, we've had our spats, but they had never before turned physical. In all our years, I had never touched her in anger. Naturally, I was upset. Not because she hit me; but because she seemed to have no faith in my feelings for her, and it was I who had hurt her so much. I am the one to blame for everything that's happened.
I left her in the garden, and went right back to my workstation. Charles was wrong, there was a cure, and I would find it.
*****^^^^^
There are times in a man's life when he must confide in friends.
Charles has been a good friend to me, despite everything we have done to each other in the past. We had spent hours together everyday in the lab, working to find an antidote, a cure, for Mystique. He wanted to prevent the serum from spreading to other mutants, and while I truly did want that same thing, I wanted my Mystique back.
I don't know if Charles had any thoughts on the relationship Mystique and I shared, but if he did, he had kept them to himself. He had never asked, and I had never told him anything about it.
However, Charles doesn't miss much, and it has nothing to do with him being a psychic.
A few days after Mystique left, he decided to bring up the subject.
We had finished our work one night, and were walking beside each other through the hallway.
"Eric, why don't you step into my office for a bit?"
I followed him inside, and sat across from his desk. He poured me a scotch.
"So, how are you holding up?" he asked.
"What do you mean Charles?" I said, feigning ignorance.
"Oh, come off it, Eric! You can't hold out on me."
"Are you snooping in my mind again, Charles? You know that's dangerous territory."
"I'm not reading your mind, Eric, I promise you I'm not. In any case, I wouldn't need to."
"What are you getting at?"
He sighed and rolled his eyes. We both knew what he was talking about, but he knew that I would not voluntarily discuss it; as a rule, I like to keep my personal relationships private.
"Mystique's departure. You've been working twice as hard since she left, but you've also been pretending that it doesn't bother you in the least."
"Well, she's a grown woman, and free to do what she wishes."
"Eric, we've been more or less friends for years. After all that time, I think you owe me a little honesty."
"What would you like to hear from me Charles? That when Mystique and I left the school we eloped and then adopted Pyro?" I joked, despite the fact that it wasn't very far from the truth.
"That would be a good start. Why are you being so evasive, Eric? What is it, do you think that once I learn the true nature of your relationship I'd use it to my advantage? That I'd hurt Mystique to hurt you?"
I shrugged. "The thought has crossed my mind."
"Oh, for goodness' sake Eric, I'm not you!"
We both laughed at that. It might have seemed strange, two sometimes enemies sipping scotch and talking about women, but to us it felt completely normal. As if the past betrayals and such had never occurred, and we were back to the way things were in better days. Back when we were nothing if not best friends.
I was tired of evading his questions, so I decided to drop the act, and let him find out for himself.
I poured another scotch for myself, and then another for Charles. "You know Charles, if you want honesty, you know how to get it."
"What?"
"You heard me, I'm giving you an open invitation."
Charles seemed both hesitant and tempted. I know that he was insatiably curious about what had happened when Mystique and I left the school. After all, we had only come face to face a few times in all the years since then.
Curiosity, it seems, won out over hesitation.
He knocked back the rest of his drink, and leaned forward in his chair.
I did the same, and within seconds, I could feel him gently probe my mind.
He pushed past my wall of defenses, until my mind was completely vulnerable.
Through my memories, Charles witnessed everything. The first time Mystique and I met in my classroom, the way we contrived our first plan together.
He saw through my point of view how angry I became when we were found out.
Charles and I relived the first few weeks that Mystique and I spent together away from the school.
He saw- much better than I had- the exact moment when I began to care for my student more than any teacher should. In turn, Charles saw how Mystique's love for me grew as mine did for her.
He watched as we built the island, how our bond grew stronger now that we shared a home.
He watched as we embraced as lovers rather than friends for the first time.
He saw how that together, Mystique and I were infinitely stronger than when we were alone. He could see our triumphs and failures.
Her injury, my imprisonment, our reunion.
He could feel how deeply I loved her.
He relieved the day when he almost killed her at the lake; he then saw how Mystique and I manipulated him, and he felt how sorry I was.
'It didn't have to come to this... but now it has.'
He saw what happened that night in the garden, and then he broke the connection.
"Eric, I'm so sorry, I had no idea!"
"It's quite alright, Charles, you didn't know."
"We'll find a cure for her, Eric. All we need is time, but we will find it."
"I hope you're right Charles. And on that note, I'll see you in the lab tomorrow morning. Thank you for the drink."
*^*^*^*^*^*
That had been eight days ago, and we are still trying to find the cure. I know that we will find the cure, but my only concern is that by the time we find it, will Mystique still want to be her mutant self?