「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(203) Don't Touch Her

Lynn's POV

"I think I should check on him," Charles claimed softly, slowly pulling away after I had better recovered from the trauma.

"Are you sure you're alright?" I probed, gawking anxiously at the dangerously soaked patches on his pants.

"I'm just as good as you are," Charles reassured, tilting up my chin and planted a sweet kiss to my lips.

"Will you least let me clean you up first?" I requested pleadingly, hurriedly floating a towel into my hands but Charles was quicker to stop me.

"I really won't be able to leave if you touch me now, Lynn," he confessed sheepishly with slight embarrassment gleaming through his eyes and I chuckled, smacking my lips nervously as I registered the true concerns behind his sudden uneasiness.

"Just get me a blanket, will you?" Charles appealed and I smiled, willingly obliging.

"Can I come with you?" I asked hopefully as the folded fleece layered neatly onto my lap.

Charles stared at me tentatively, yet not in the manner that he distrusted my intents or doubted my abilities to shield myself from the perilous and fervent tides of psychic feedback, but rather his hesitant and worried eyes spoke clearly of his qualms that revolved around my once afflicted wrist he was now grasping dearly in his hands, gently and tenderly caressing the ball of my joint that was still throbbing marginally in the background.

"Only if you put this on," Charles demanded politely, stretching over towards the bedside cabinet.

In the pullout drawer was the strange combination of an exquisite and nostalgic Montblanc casing together with a the exact wristguard prescribed to me when my hard cast was first removed.

"You brought it back?" I investigated in surprise, basically staring in awe at his stark awareness.

"You're, frankly, quite a klutz when it comes to caring for yourself, my love," Charles commented teasingly as he swiftly retrieved the protective device.

"I didn't actually have time to pack," I retorted defensively and Charles glanced up at me with a judgmental gaze.

"Fair point," Charles concurred with a chuckle, proceeding to meticulously strap the nude elastic material around my wrist.

Professionally bracing up the wounded area plagued by an untimely relapse, Charles granted permission for me to follow him on the unusual inspection on a further condition that I made no use of my injured hand in fear that I would overexert or hurt myself again.

Rolling discreetly alongside one another, our automated chairs conveyed us to the same hall I was on just a couple of hours ago and subtle grunts echoed faintly within the walls of the practically empty aisle.

"Rogue's in there," Charles informed quietly as we made our way across the long hollow corridor.

Suddenly, the serenity of the mansion was wrecked by a ferocious roar that concomitantly sounded with a brief but sharp scream and both of us stunned in the middle of the barren passageway. Our minds instinctively went searching for the scene in Logan's room and utter dismay was the only landscape apparent.

Sitting upright on his bed, Logan glared murderously into the teenage girl's face, claws fully extended and directly punctured through her chest. The ends of his metallic fangs peeped through Rogue's back, dripping with her blood at all three tips, while the pair simply stared at each other in absolute horror.