Chapter Text
It had been 6 months since the beach.
6 months since the bullet had torn its way through skin and muscle and nerves, to lodge firmly into the base of his spine.
6 months of vigorous rehabilitation and physiotherapy had followed, in which Charles had kept a brave face and a positive nerve, if not for himself, then for his sister Raven who spent hours every day at his bedside, clasping unfeeling fingers and reading poetry Charles knew bore her.
Erik had also visited. It was the same time every day, 4pm for an hour only. Charles knew it was guilt that did not allow him any longer. He would sit in a chair at the end of Charles' bed, or stand against the far wall, conversing easily when Charles was able to, and staying silent when Charles was not.
Hank's visits were far less frequent, he had a school to run after all. But Charles cherished those days when Hank would tell him of his students progress and well wishes.
6 months after the incident, the doctors allowed Charles to be discharged under strict rules and a lot of medication. Raven was cited to be his unofficial carer, the bags were packed and the car ready to head home to Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters.
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As the car rolled across the gravel drive of the school, Charles found himself incredibly overwhelmed. 6 months in a white hospital had left his head spinning and the looming walls of the mansion seemed to blur into a crazed fog of reds, browns and greens.
He shifted his shoulders so that his forehead fell to rest against the cool glass of the car window and closed his eyes.
"Charles?"
Hank's voice spoke softly through the fog. The car must have stopped because then there was Raven, pressing his shoulders gently back against the seat so that Hank could open his passenger door.
"Sorry, Hank." Charles replied as the door opened to the side of him, "The school hasn't changes in the slightest."
Hank smiled sadly, the expression that everyone had when they looked at Charles now was clear on his face, "No it hasn't, the students have missed you. Are you all set Charles?"
"Yes, thank you Hank." Charles spoke again. The wheelchair Hank had unfolded was small and comfortable, not specialist by any means, but advanced enough to support Charles on a bad day.
He had good days and bad days.
It seemed an unusually long distance from the car to the wheelchair. Raven, who was still sat next to him, squeezed his arm in reassurance.
Charles swallowed awkwardly, inwardly pleased that none of his students were outside to witness this. He leant to the side, grasping the handle of the chair with one hand, and with the other, he manoeuvred his legs so that his knees were facing into the car. Then, he lifted his body and deposited himself into the chair, pulling his legs after him and positioning them on the small footrests.
"Mission success," Raven said happily from behind him, grasping the back of his chair and steering toward the front door.