Recovery. Recovery was a long, painful road; not that Valeryia was expecting anything else. Life had been a struggle, it had always been a struggle for her, so why would trying to heal be any different? Infection, malnutrition, insomnia and the paranoia of this all being a dream was a constant thing.
Infection and malnutrition could be easily fought against; medication to fight the problem, and small manageable meals that she wouldn't end up bringing up because of her system not being used to food. The insomnia and paranoia was harder to tackle. There was a reason why she avoided sleep, unless she was literally put to sleep; her mind was a torrent of turmoil, pain and things she'd rather not remember. These things would bleed into her dreams and she'd wake up.
A few times, admittedly, she had woken up screaming and fighting with the bed covers. She had almost hurt Charles and Hank a few times. They would come and try and calm her, and she'd go on the offensive. But these things, these moments were lessening up as Valeryia was slowly, but surely, coming to terms with how her life was going.
The manor, in all its vast, spacious welcoming glory was where she was staying for the foreseeable, it was home. It was gutting, admittedly, that Erik couldn't stay. It wasn't the real case of couldn't, he just wouldn't. Things between himself and Charles were still awkward, still raw, regardless of her actually, despite of everything, wanting him here too. It was a small naive part of her really, clinging onto something from the past because it was familiar, because it felt safe. But Erik had already stated before he left, she wouldn't be safe with him.
As she was, she was useless. She could barely stand longer than a minute without her legs almost giving out. Her arms hung heavily and uselessly by her sides. She was powerless for the time being too. She was of no use to anyone, and unfortunately, she didn't want to say it, but if she wasn't of use, Erik would've left her somewhere anyway. There was no denying that. Being here, in the manor, was the only real place he could leave her, knowing she would be safe.
Valeryia had zero intentions of leaving. The outside world had change, it had become cruel, and harsh too. She was uncertain of how long she had been inside, being transferred from institution to institution, but there was a war on. One evening, while finally being taken off of the IV drip, she had asked Hank about it. She had ventured, with his help, out her room and to the living room, she had watched the news with him and been confused. At the time she stayed silent, mainly because Charles had joined them and he looked pained.
The mere thought of a nuclear war, which seemed to be something Hank was deadly serious over, along with communist outlooks, just seemed all a bit too terrifying. Valeryia hadn't become so desensitised to violence, and violent acts, but she had hoped that humans could stop for five minutes to see that battling didn't always need to happen. But, because of the war, no one truly paid attention to the disappearances of people, of mutants.
She had asked about why no students were here anymore. Hank had looked troubled again, by this point he had helped her back to her room. His hands gently holding onto one of hers as they shuffled along the stretching corridors. "They left," he said, Valeryia shook her hair out her face and frowned at him. Hank sighed, he just got stared at blankly. "Okay," he sighed, of course she wasn't believing it was as simple as that. "Some left, on their own. Others were collected by their parents. Others dragged by parents...Alex, he left to join the war, and Sean left to go see his parents, I think. But we've lost contact with him..." Hank trailed off, leaving that sentence hang awkwardly in the air.
Valeryia's dark rimmed eyes stared at the route they were taking. She stopped, Hank looked concerned thinking she was about to keel over or something. Her breathing wasn't so rattling anymore, but it still sounded a bit iffy when she breathed heavily. Inhaling deeply caused a rumble to go through her chest as she shook her head gently. Licking her chapped lips, she looked back up at him. "I didn't see him." She said slowly, her eyes looking towards the window and the afternoon sun. "I don't want to think of him...like that," Valeryia tilted her head, her dull eyes narrowing painfully. She looked sidelong at Hank, "It hurts to think like that."
"I know," he said, although by the look on his face, she had already guessed he knew Sean was dead. Valeryia continued to her room, once seated and he was taking the line out of her neck, she had asked more about the war, how long ago had it been since it started? Who was really involved? What did he think the outcome was going to be? Hank answered to the best of his ability, he didn't mind being the one to help her catch up with the world.
Although when it came to real issues, of a mental capacity, only Charles could truly help her. But he was changing too. As someone who hadn't been around people, maybe Valeryia noticed it sooner than Hank. Hank kept to himself, ever the introvert, but Valeryia would venture down to the main study to see Charles. Now she had got strength back, she'd search him out. Charles, even if he didn't telepathically help her, he was always a good person to talk to.
But he was growing distant. The world was changing and he was changing with it, and not for the better. One evening, Valeryia had been laying on her bed reading, completely in her own word only to be shattered out of her bubble by the sounds of screaming. She had bolted out her room, down the stairs and saw Hank already running along the corridor to Charles's room. She slowed down and rounded the corner, hearing him calm him down. From the doorway she saw Hank inject something into Charles's arm, and soon the man was still and silent and just staring off to the side.
Valeryia retreated, she didn't know what the world was changing into, or the people, but she didn't like it. As the months went on, slowly, this became the norm. Valeryia near enough had a heart attack when she turned into the kitchen one day and there Charles stood. He was aimlessly stirring a cup of coffee, staring off into the distance. Hearing the commotion of her, he turned and looked at her.
"How?" Valeryia had asked while waving a hand at him. "How?!" She exclaimed exasperated while walking nearer. Charles's hair had grown, a light stubble gracing his jawline too. He no longer seemed to be wearing the usual shirts and trousers he usually would. It honestly looked like he had just got out of bed.
He gave a strained smile, holding the cup in one hand he shuffled over, placing a hand on her shoulder he gently patted it. "It doesn't matter, Val." He said, removing his hand when she glanced at it unsurely. She still wasn't totally keen on being touched, despite knowing neither him or Hank would harm her.
"Where are you going?" She turned and watched him leave the room.
He sipped at the cup and shrugged. "Well, there's nothing for me to do down here, is there?"
"You're going back to bed?" She asked, totally confused as he simply nodded and walked away. Valeryia opened her mouth, shut it again and frowned. Forgetting what she even came in here for, she had found Hank. The ability to not feel allowed her to slam her healed hands on the table, hard. "What have you been giving him?" She had demanded. Hank always tinkered about in his room, making and designing things. She could only presume he had made something that allowed Charles to walk, was a side effect making him lazy?
Hank readjusted his glasses, "It's like the serum I take." Hank said, after trials and a lot of work, he had finally perfected it. Someone still needed to go outside to collect groceries. Charles was a shut in, and Valeryia had no interest in the world beyond the manor. Hank was on the fence too, but they needed food. Valeryia tilted her head, her eyes narrowed slowly. He sighed, "It cancels out his powers, and it allows him the use of his legs back."
"Is it worth it?"
Hank frowned up at her, "Would you rather keep hearing him scream? He is in pain, Val. He is in pain, and I didn't know what else to do. I only gave him a small dose to begin with, but he wanted more. Do you think I like seeing him like this? But I don't know what else to do to help him."
Valeryia's frown lessened as she listened to Hank's honest words. "You did what you thought was best." She removed her hands from the table. She stood looking down at him, shaking her head she looked around his small laboratory space with a sigh. "Charles has always been so good with helping others, without thinking of himself. Because that's the type of person he is. I don't condone this, Hank. I don't like it...but I don't like seeing him hurt either."
"It's a catch twenty-two, Val." Hank replied sadly, he looked unhappy with the outcome here, he really did. But he was in a bind.
Valeryia left him to it then. She had made her way to her room, she seemed to spend most time in her room now, they all did. They were three people living in the same space, but not really interacting with each other. She didn't foresee her life going like this. She sat on the edge of her bed, looking at her hands. The gloves she wore compressed her skin, helped the scar tissue to heal. Hank had said she didn't need to wear them anymore...but she'd rather hide her arms. She didn't like looking at her scars. The gloves started before her shoulders, easily tucked under a shirt or hidden underneath a long sleeved top. She sighed, not everything could be so easily fixed. Valeryia knew that sooner or later, this serum was going to wear out. It was going to stop working, or something would go wrong...she had come to the realisation that running, or hiding didn't pay off.
The past always has a habit of eventually catching up, things can't keep going in a one-track sort of way without wrongs being righted; only by this extension, the last thing Valeryia expected to see while watching the television one day is the press release of the president's death, murder. They were calling it an assassination, which Valeryia thought was apt considering he appeared to be shot in the head so readily. She expected to see Erik's mugshot even less.
Someone can only do so much wrong before it catches up. Erik was detained and arrested and was hauled up somewhere. Valeryia didn't know how to feel. Sadness, for the family who had lost a member. Anger, because what honestly gave Erik the right to do this? Confusion, why would he do it?
She had gone to Charles, only when she found him, he was necking a bottle of what seemed to be whiskey. She sighed, along with the serum, he was also turning to alcohol to cope with life. Valeryia shook her head, she didn't know this man, clearly like she didn't know the one who'd shoot a man in the head. Or at least, not know them as well as she thought...
"You've seen it then?" Charles asked, seeing her loitering in the doorway. He put the bottle down and kicked his feet up onto the desk. His study had been turned into some sort of den, the curtains drawn hastily, bottles left here and there, some still with alcohol in, others standing empty collecting dust.
"Yes...but I don't understand." Valeryia said, she didn't.
Charles laughed, it was a short, sharp sound. No humour, which caused Valeryia to frown and look at him sadly. "You don't understand? Val...you of all people should know what that man is like. You don't understand, or are you in denial? There is no good in him. Killing someone outright means nothing. He's a monster, Val. It was only a matter of time before he did something to show his true colours to the world. And in return, the world has decided to lock him up, and throw away the key. I say good riddance," Charles lifted the bottle again, toasting it in the air as he took to drinking readily from it again. "Everyone is better off without him in our lives." Charles's blue eyes blearily looked to her, Valeryia stood clutching her fists as she bit her tongue, resisting so hard to say something at him. "Did you think he would come back for you? Surely by now you've learned that he wasn't ever going to?"
Valeryia backed off, she turned and moved downstairs. She needed to vent, venting on Charles would've been the easiest option, however, using her unstable powers on someone who was effectively a human at the moment wasn't fair. No matter how angry she felt, she was not taking it out on Charles, because he himself was suffering and lashing out at them.
She walked into the room which Hank had renovated specifically for fighting. She ripped off her gloves as she rounded in on a punchbag and punched it. The poor thing swung backwards by quite a distance because of the force she sent its way. She caught it with her hands and tilted her head before just venting on the bag. She could feel something charging, and before she knew it, with a scream she punched the bag and as it shuttled backwards, it exploded. Padding and all sorts went shooting everywhere from the impact, Valeryia shielded her face before frowning and sighing.
Cleaning the mess up, she simply sighed again. This life was, or rather: was this the road her life was taking? What was going on? Everything seemed so...wrong. Nothing really made much sense, it was just confusing and not right. She spent most of her days no longer in her room reading, seeing as how she could use her powers still, she went through self-training herself to get them back. It was muscle memory, most of the time, although she had to experiment and learn about pressure, how hard to hold something to be able to hold it without slipping, along with avoiding breaking something.
She was actually on her way down, when she paused on the stairs to see Hank struggling with the door one day. Frowning, she ran downstairs and looked out. There was a man, dark eyed, looking rather amused at this moment, yet when caught sight of her, he looked confused.
"What-?"
"Can you get him to let me in? This is important."
Valeryia looked upwards at Hank, he just gave her a look while still pushing against the door. "Erm...is it important? I mean, if it was I'm rather sure you would've been let in."
There was a groan from outside before more weight was put against the door. Hank was nudged back a bit, Valeryia darted around to his side and pushed too. He was trying to break in, and although they had all become disjointed here, they couldn't let that happen. "Come on, I just need to see the Professor."
"There's no Professor here." Hank said annoyed that this whole thing was even happening, and that this guy wasn't getting the hint.
"Why?" Valeryia popped back up to look through the gap.
"It's important, can't really tell you while out here, can I?" He said while pushing again, Hank's feet edged across the floor. "I don't want to repeat myself."
Valeryia tilted her head, raising an eyebrow she just rolled her eyes and walked off to sit on the stairs. "Men." She leaned her head against the banister with a sigh. She just watched the strange pushing war in front of her before standing when the man finally managed to break his way in.
"Hey! I said this school is closed, you need to leave." Hank to his credit was right on the man's heels and following after him.
"Not until I see the Professor."
Hank with an annoyed expression reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. He turned him and looked at him sternly. "There's no Professor here, I told you that!" Was this guy dense? Hank didn't think he had ever had to repeated himself so much before.
"Look, kid, you and I are gonna be good friends." He said, sounding rather sure on that before he threw a punch Hank's way. Not seeing that violence was going to appear, Hank fell to the floor. "You just don't know it yet." He said while turning, Valeryia stood there on the stairs, blocking his way. "Are you kidding?" He walked forwards, seemingly intending on just pushing past her only for her to reach out, it wasn't so much as a reach, but more of a harsh pushing. Her palm splayed against his chest, and he shuttled backwards with sparks of orange trailing after him.
Jumping down the stairs, Valeryia shook her head. "I don't know who you are-"
"That makes two of us," he said while pushing himself up, wiping a thumb against his lip, making sure there was no blood from the impact of crashing against the ground.
Valeryia frowned, "I don't know who you are, or what you think is so important to share, but surely you could've just asked to come in politely?"
"I tried!"
Valeryia watched as the man darted off to the side, "Hey! Come back here!" She ran after him, she paused by Hank's side, kneeling down she looked at him. "Who is this guy?"
"Beats me," Hank said while tilting his head, they both looked up as the man ran past them and towards the stairs. "But we can't let him get to Charles."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Stay here, stop him leaving."
"And you?"
By now Hank's eyes had shifted to yellow, his skin was turning blue, and before Valeryia knew it, the whole human facade had gone. "I'm going to get him." He said, basically through gritted teeth as she sidestepped and watched as Hank went bounding off.
Turning on her heels, Valeryia kicked the door shut and leaned against it for the moment. She winced, she could hear the running of feet, followed by a sudden yell as from one corridor, to another, a form went hurtling.
Walking forwards she watched as he was picked up, Hank easily threw him and he landed against the table in the foyer. Valeryia placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned down with a frown. She flicked her orange eyes upwards when Hank seemingly clung to the chandelier.
"Who are you really?" Valeryia asked, she narrowed her eyes. "Please, don't make me start breaking fingers or blowing your kneecaps off. It'll be really messy, and I'm not sure Hank's constitution could deal with it." She sighed, Hank gave a growl from above. She looked at him, he wasn't a violent person, not really. Valeryia had come to the acceptance that deep down, she sort of was.
"What's going on here?" Hank and Valeryia glanced up as Charles seemed to be shambling his way down the stairs. He looked as disheveled as ever, like he had just got out of bed, the usual look.
"Professor?" The man seemed utterly confused really.
Charles frowned and shook his head, the title disturbing him as he looked at the scene. "Please, don't call me that."
Hank pointed downwards, "You know this guy?" Neither of them recognised him, but Charles seemed to be talking somewhat civilly to him.
"Yeah, he looks slightly familiar." Charles mused before blinking and frowning at Hank. "Get off the bloody chandelier, Hank!" He exclaimed exasperated as Hank did so. "Val, let go, don't even go down that route."
Holding her hands, she stepped back and stood beside Hank. "I wouldn't really torture him..." She pouted slightly while crossing her arms.
Charles raised an eyebrow, looking at her in disbelief. "We both know that's a lie." If it got information, he knew she wouldn't hold back doing whatever it was that was needing to be done.
"I hate to break this up," attention went to the Canadian. "But you can walk?"
Charles sat down with a scoff. "You're a perceptive one."
"I thought Erik..."
"Which makes it slightly perplexing that you managed to miss our sign on the way in. This is private property my friend, I'm going to have to ask him to ask you to leave." Charles cut him off and pointed to Hank.
"Well, I'm afraid I can't do that because uh...because I was sent here for you."
The words caused the other three to look both hesitant and concerned. "Well, tell whoever it was that sent you that I'm busy." Was the easy response Charles gave while fidgeting on the stairs.
"That's gonna be a little tricky because the person who sent me, was you." He sounded awkward while saying it, even an uncertain expression spread across his face, and he received silence, it wasn't like there was an immediate answer, or response that anyone could say to that.
"Are you concussed?" Valeryia offered, he sounded and looked very confused, she didn't know whether he'd had a bump to the head. Or for all they knew, he had escaped the local hospital and done a runner, there were a few things going through her mind here.