「 The Professor & I 」VOLUME II

(309) Privilege

Lynn's POV

After being hit by the torrents of dreadful news, all that laughter was but a facade, difficult and tiresome to keep up. Without any of the younger ones around to function as somewhat positive motivation, my seemingly unaffected front severely crumbled as I slapped the phone to my lap in pure exhaustion.

"What are we going to do?" I sought, gripping my nose bridge tightly.

"What can we do?" I repeated helplessly.

Unsure I had contained any of my burning doubts or raging skepticism, I merely sighed, sinking deeper into my chair. Certainly, I was not the only soul upset but the heedless rant unnecessarily spouted was a horribly shameful one I had not even the courage to retract.

Carefully replacing my searing joint into its prior position on my thighs, Charles hurriedly swiveled his chair to align with mine and conscientiously wrapped his arm around me.

"It's alright, love. We'll figure something out," Charles asserted kindly as I slumped against his shoulder, irrefutably yearning the warmth of his embrace.

Yet, despite being engulfed in his loving hug, solace was elusive, regardless emotionally or physically.

I perpetually fidgeted, frustratedly failing to relocate comfortable ground. Unknowingly, I stretched perhaps a tendon and my lips instinctively broke apart in a conspicuous wince as my troublesome wrist was virtually set on fire.

Undeterred by the unforgiving torture, Charles delicately cradled my hand and gently brushed my fingers with his but alleviation only materialized in marginal proportions when Raven promptly offered up a couple of cushions originally ornamenting the couches.

"That's what he's here for," Raven enlightened, sincerely gazing at me in her crouched pose, as she cautiously propped my wrist onto the soft stack of pillows but I frowned at her, despite the gradually reducing agony, confused.

"As the Secretary, I've been offered a chance to tour the Alcatraz Facility," Hank frankly explained, discreetly inserting his hand into his leather carrier.

"And I've been sent to extend you this extraordinary privilege, Charles," Hank elaborated, calmly retrieving a personalized visitor's pass printed, essentially like official identification cards, with Charles' formal portrait accompanying his full credentials.

"What?! No!" I furiously protested, instantly jerking up in my chair as I glared panically towards him and Raven while simultaneously sensing Charles' troubled gaze on me.

"Sent... By who?" Charles enquired in disorientation as he diligently rubbed my back.

"The President," Hank answered succinctly, almost like with deliberate mystery.

"I don't catch you, Hank," Charles honestly confessed, still plagued by a face of puzzlement even after having mulled over his response for several moments.

"The President is well aware of your gifts and he... He cherishes the peace as much as we and... He was hoping you could..." Hank stammered, irritably piquing my wildly growing curiosity with every unsteady sentence and I rashly lurched into his mind, sieving out nothing but dismaying information.

"Persuade the lab not to sell the cure," I blurted, flooded by unadulterated disbelief, as my face rapidly scrunched into a scornful expression.

"Yes," Hank affirmed in a moderately surprised tone and even if it was only in my peripheral vision, Charles was obviously staring at me in sheer astonishment.