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Putting the cap back on the red pen, Erik filed away another essay. Ororo Munroe was one of the brighter students and he was glad to give her the grade she deserved. Especially since English wasn’t even her native language. However, marking that paper also meant that he didn’t have hers to look forward to anymore – the rest in the pile more then probably of mediocre quality. And despite what his reputation might suggest, Erik didn’t enjoy giving out bad grades. Mostly because that meant he hadn’t been doing his job, but partly because reading a bad essay was just painful.
It was all dark and quiet in the teacher’s lounge by now; only interrupted by the ticking of the lopsided clock and the insistent pattering of rain. Sighing, Erik grabbed the next one in the pile. Here was to hoping Alex Summers hadn’t been tossing it together in two hours before midnight, and that this might raise his grade a bit. He had been hanging around with Armando Muñoz lately, and so there was a chance Armando’s diligence had rubbed off on Summers' somewhat lacking one.
Just when Erik uncapped the marker again, the door to the staff room opened. Rolling his chair back, Erik caught sight of a silhouette coming around the screen of the bullpen. Charles. His coat was a much darker shade of blue over his shoulders, but otherwise he seemed to have gotten away quite unharmed by the hail storm outside; a healthy color to his cheeks and his scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.
As his eyes landed on Erik, his face lit up in a smile. “And you're still here.”
“I’ll be here until I die at this rate,” Erik muttered, casting a dire look at the small mountain of grading he still had left to do, and Charles nodded in sympathy. "Missed about two hours during lunch, so have a bit to catch up on."
He should be used to it by now. Yet Lorna’s episode earlier that day had not only given him half a heart attack, but also robbed him of a lunch breaks’s worth of grading. He hadn't dared to face the rush traffic and instead opted to take the subway back to the school. And while bringing your work home with you was unavoidable, no matter how much you planned, it was always best to keep to the bulk of it in the building.
Pushing his chair back a bit more, he gave Charles a look. “What about you? I thought you’d left for the day.”
“I did, but I’d forgotten this.I have one at home, but it's out for the count, it appears,” Charles said, holding up his phone charger. “How’s Lorna doing?”
Since Charles had started to come by more often – sometimes for grading, sometimes staying for dinner – he’d become closer to Lorna. He’d also gotten better at detecting when she was about to drop. So today, he’d told Erik there had been time to guide Lorna to the staff room before she fell from her chair and hit her head like all the other times before.
“She called me just an hour ago; still in pain, but doing better. Asked me to bring chocolate.”
“Glad to hear she’s better again,” Charles said, but his voice didn’t sound wholly satisfied with the answer.
Frowning, Erik asked, “What about it?”
Sighing, Charles made a face. “How long has this been going on, Erik?”
It was like a bucket of cold water. Erik’s heart started racing like a race horse; his breath catching somewhere shallow in his chest. “What do you mean? Has what been going on?”
“Lorna passing out from pain,” Charles said, softly, and matter-of-factly. “I heard from Emma that this hasn’t just started; that it was a regular occurrence even before I started here.”
“A few years,” Erik clenched his teeth. Lorna had passed out the first time when she was thirteen, and since she refused to go on the pill (not for contraceptive purposes, just to make periods stop), it was just as inevitable as the period itself. “Why are you asking?”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Charles leant his hip against Erik’s desk, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been looking into what it might be, and Erik, I think perhaps she’s suffering from endometriosis,” Charles said, looking solemnly at Erik.
Still reigning in his pulse, Erik asked, “What?”
“Endometriosis. It’s a condition that causes the uterine lining to grow into the abdomen, but it bleeds and slugs off as well. Since she’s in such excruciating pain every month, it might be worth looking into.”
“I – “ Erik started. “I didn’t think it was out of the ordinary,”
“Really? Erik, your daughter is put completely out of commission for days every month due to menstrual pain,” Charles said, incredulous. “How is that ordinary?”
A sudden flare of anger replaced the shock, and Erik clenched his teeth. When he’d spoken to Edie about Lorna, she’d said it was fairly normal; that so much pain wasn’t too common, but not unheard of, and that the only thing you could do was ease the pain. So that was what he’d done.
“Are you implying I don’t worry about her?” he asked, locking his eyes on Charles, staring him down.
Shaking his head, Charles put a hand on his shoulder, fingers digging in a bit too much to be casual. “No,” he said, voice serious. “I know you do. But perhaps you should bring her to see a doctor soon.”
Rubbing his hands over his face, Erik sighed. This again. “Right.”
“A friend of mine has a private practice downtown. I could ask her if she’ll schedule an appointment for Lorna, if you'd like?”
Erik gave him an incredulous look. “Private practice, Charles? New's flash: My salary is just as poor as yours, I’ll have you know. ”
That, somehow, just made Charles smile. A bit pained, but a quite bright one nonetheless. “I’m aware of how neglected the teacher profession unfortunately is. I have a favour to cash in with Moira, though. She’ll do it for free,” he said, and picked up his phone.
“As if this wasn’t sketchy enough,” Erik muttered.
Looking up from his phone, Charles frowned. “Why are you so difficult about this? Don’t you want Lorna to have a good physician?”
“Like those exist. I just don’t want anyone dismissing her or making it worse,” Erik said sternly. “I want someone who will take her seriously, and not just give her mutation suppressors to get rid of all the side effects.”
That stopped him in his tracks. “They’ve done that?” Charles’ voice was quiet; his hip still braced on the desk, but he’d put away his phone again. “I’m so sorry, Erik. I didn’t know.”
Erik shook his head. “No, not to her. I had a few bad experiences,” he admitted, the words rushing out of him before he could halt them, “when I was her age. So I want to be careful.”
Four years under Dr. Trask might have cured Erik’s migraines, but it had also left him awfully behind when it came to mastering the beast that his mutation could be. At least Edie had intervened as soon as she realized what was happening and pulled him out of his care, but it had still set him back a good few years. And Erik was not going to let Lorna go through the same thing over his dead body.
Charles’ mouth closed, and his eyes got a softness about them that Erik had only seen when he was speaking with students coming looking for him; usually wanting help with a question they were beating themselves up about not solving. “Erik,” he then said, breaking the silence. “There aren’t many clinics that still have that mindset. Fifteen years might not be a long time, but there has been a significant change in how mutants are clinically treated, all thanks to the Specialization Act. There’s a lot more acceptance and knowledge.”
Erik sighed, starting to divide the small mountain of essays into plastic pockets. He wasn’t going to get more grading done in here, so better take it home. “Perhaps. I just don’t want her to fall into the wrong hands.”
Charles smiled then, a bit sad and he squeezed Erik’s shoulder again; his hand warm in the chill room. “I’d trust Moira with my life. She did her residency in Specialized medicine; I can assure you that she knows what she’s doing. Lorna will be fine. She’s tough.”
“Don’t I know it,” Erik said into his hands, causing Charles to laugh.
“Yeah, I don’t know how you do it sometimes,” he said, fond. “By the way, do you want a ride home?”
Tossing a quick look outside, and seeing the downpour was still going strong, Erik nodded. “Sure. I’ll just gather the last.”
“No hurry.”
Rising from the chair, Erik started putting the last of the papers in his satchel. As he did, he found Charles hadn’t moved an inch from his space. Not even as he straightened, all the essays now protected from the rain, Charles didn’t move. He stood fast, his eyes still soft, and Erik found that it was suddenly a bit hard to breathe. Lately, it was as if Charles sucked all the oxygen out of the air, making their interactions take place inside a bell jar; every word Erik wanted to say unable to pass through due to lack of air.
Charles cleared his throat, breaking the moment. “May I invite myself to dinner as well?”
Blinking himself out of it, Erik shrugged. “I’d honestly planned on heating leftovers. But there might be some for you as well.”
“I’ll gladly take it,” Charles replied, smiling.