Left Behind (X-Men Fanfic)

The Hospital

Charles awoke slowly, his sense of smell waking first, the air permeated with antiseptic and illness. He groaned as his mind roused next, the voices that were normally just a buzz screaming at him. He panicked at first, but calmed as he managed to dull them down as quickly as he could. It was then he realized that his mental barriers were gone, almost as if they had been blown apart, something he had never experienced before. He started slowly, building them brick by painful brick until he knew this one would hold if anything else went askew.

He made sure he had his mind squared away before he opened his eyes a crack, the light overhead and the white of the room blinding him momentarily. He shielded his eyes with his left hand as he looked around, taking in the fact that's was firstly, in a hospital, and secondly, he was the only patient in the room. He saw the minimal art on the walls, small tv in the corner and the window across from his bed. But what made his skin crawl was the empty wheelchair in the corner. It wasn't a bad dream or a nightmare. I really am paralyzed.

Charles frantically searched his mind for answers, finding memories closest to the surface; being shot, of Erik and Raven abandoning him and the others on the beach, of his pain, the horror of the realization that he couldn't feel his legs and then darkness. A stray tear fell as the emotional and physical pain of what happened on that beach washed over him. He allowed himself to cry, knowing that his life would never be the same.

He let himself go for a few minutes before he wiped his face, scrubbing away the tears, hoping to erase the pain. Charles glanced to his right, startled to see Hank sitting next to the bed, back to his human form. The poor guy was asleep, laying haphazardly in the chair, his glasses discarded on the table next to him. Behind him was Álex and Sean, heads resting against each other as they snored softly.

He chuckled softly as he watched them sleep, realizing they still looked like the teenagers that they were. The smile vanished from Charles face when he recognized that everything that had had happened over the past month had made these boys into men, perhaps a bit sooner than it should have. They saw death and destruction, saw friends leave and betray them. In the end, they had chosen to stay with him. He would be forever grateful for that.

Charles had just turned his head to look out the window, taking in the warmth of the sun when he heard rustling from the boys.

"Charles!" Hank exclaimed, leaping out of his seat. This cry awoke Álex and Sean, the two banging heads together before standing just as quickly. Hank put his glasses on as the boys pulled their chairs closer to the bed.

"Hank, Alex, Sean. Are you three all alright? Is Moira ok?" Charles asked, wanting to make sure nothing bad had had happened to the young men while he was unconscious. He was also curious as to where the CIA agent was as well. He felt responsible for all involved and what had gone down on the beach.

"Yes we're fine Charles. Moira left to get cleaned up but she was coming back when she had rested some. We told her we would stay here," Hank replied, glancing at Alex and Sean. He then voiced what the three were thinking very loudly, "We've just been worried about you."

"How long have I been unconscious?" Curiosity was getting the better of the young telepath. He was still somewhat drowsy even after being awake for a few minutes.

"Four days," Hank replied, glancing at the other two. It had been a long four days, not knowing if Charles would wake up or even live. He had internal bleeding that they didn't even know about until they got to New York. They had lost so much already and didn't want to lose the one man who had faith in them all.

"What?!" Charles exclaimed incredulously.

"It took us a while to get to a hospital," Sean said, as he and Alex and Hank exchanged pointed looks amongst themselves.