Lasting Premonition- Charles Xavier X Female Reader

Chapter Seven

"You said he wanted me." Logan stood there, washing off his face. He was ready to go again.

"I've made a terrible mistake. His helmet blocks my telepathy, I couldn't see what he was up to until it was too late." Charles had no way to comfort the man.

"You know, you sure as hell make a lot of mistakes," Logan spat. He walked toward the door, pulling on his jacket as you silently watched.

"Where are you going?" Storm questioned.

"I'm going to find her."

Charles began to turn his wheelchair to follow. "How?"

"The traditional way: look."

He marched out and Storm followed, leaving you and Charles. It wasn't until that moment that you had noticed an odd feeling, one of sadness radiating from your friend. "Professor," you began.

Then Storm came running in, "Senator Kelly is here, he needs Jean."

Your mouth drew into a thin line as you followed Charles to the lab. Despite your lack of memories with Charles, you were well aware of your past difficulties with the senator.

The senator was placed on the lab table, all sorts of devices connected to him. You stood in the doorway, no desire to be in his vicinity. Though, part of you distanced yourself in the fear that you would hurt him.

The professor rolled up to the ill congressman, seeminglywith no ill will. That was a trait of Charles that you had always admired: how he always sought for the good in people. "Senator Kelly," he began softly, "I am Professor Charles Xavier."

The senator sounded breathless, panicked as he spoke. "I was afraid if I went to a hospital they would-"

"Treat you like a mutant? We're not what you think, not all of us."

"Tell that to the ones that did this to me!" he croaked.

At that moment, you could no longer withstand it. You turned right around to the corridor and began to walk. Jean grabbed at your wrist. "Y/N, stay."

Instead, you just pulled out of her grasp and didn't bother to turn back.

Jean pulled her hand back and looked down at the ground. You weren't the same.

"Sometimes it is hard to be forgiven. It's hardest for the one to forgive the other." Logan had said the words and shook his head as his attention went back to the senator.

You had sprinted to your room, running straight to the closet. Sitting there was your suitcase. You had that thing since 1962. You took a deep breath and knelt down in front of the brown leather bag. Carefully, you swept your hand across the top and it came back covered in a thick layer of dust.

Despite that, you pulled the case free from the closet and dropped it on your bed. You opened it before returning to the closet. You yanked clothes off of your hangers and threw them into a pile in the case. You were leaving, and the feeling still felt all too normal. Before the sixties, you were used to drifting across the world.

Though something did feel wrong. What felt wrong was you. Your mind was foggy; it felt like whole chunks of your memory were missing. You shook your head, willing the thought away.

Once your case was packed, you thought about how you didn't want to really say goodbye; or at least not face-to-face. You walked to your desk and searched it for a notebook. Yet you struggled. Why couldn't you remember where your notebook was?

After some frazzled searching, you found it and sat down at your desk with a pen.

"To My Family,