𝘚𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 -and lost just as many reasons to keep going.
Natalie Parker, once hidden in the shadows of history, is a mutant unlike any other. Bound to the earth by blood and power, her touch coaxes life from st...
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"nineteen seventy-three"
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
The school had been a beacon of hope, even if only for a little while. After Cuba, the world didn't exactly welcome mutants with open arms, but for a time, the mansion buzzed with laughter and purpose. Charles made Natalie a teacher, and she'd never been happier. The students adored her. It felt like something real, something worth holding onto.
But like all good things, it didn't last.
Sean was the first to leave. Then the others followed—one by one. Each departure chipped away at Natalie's spirit. But losing Alex? That shattered her. They'd fallen in love not long after the events in Cuba, and eventually, he'd proposed. She'd said yes, of course. But before he left, they decided to postpone the wedding. Just until he came back.
If he came back.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
The school was eventually shut down, its halls falling silent. Charles had spiralled into despair, physically and emotionally broken. Hank, desperate to help, developed a serum derived from Natalie's DNA—enough to allow Charles to walk again, temporarily. Her healing abilities weren't strong enough to fully repair the damage, but her DNA gave the serum a unique edge.
Charles took daily doses.
But there were some pains even medicine couldn't numb. And when the serum wasn't enough—he found a new friend.
Alcohol.
-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-
Late morning. Sunlight filtered softly through Natalie's curtains. She sat at the edge of her bed, a photo of her and Alex cradled in her hands.
"I hope you're okay," she whispered.
She got dressed in a long white skirt and a loose green shirt, tying her hair into a messy bun. As she stood and gathered herself—
CRASH.
Glass shattered.
"Hank?" she called, moving quickly.
She reached the stairs and froze.
Hank was hanging from the chandelier. A stranger stood in the middle of the room, looking equally confused.
"What the hell is going on?" she demanded, folding her arms over the railing. Her eyes narrowed. "Who are you?"
"Name's Logan," the man replied, starting to sit up. He looked up at her—and froze. "Natalie?"
Her breath caught. "How do you know—?"
"Nat? Hank? What's going on?" Charles's voice rang out as he shuffled into view.
