Typical Parker Luck - A Peter Parker Love Story

XXXIX - Memories

Charles leaned forward and raised two fingers to my temples. As he closed his eyes, I was thrown back into bad memories.

The Battle of New York.

Fighting Apocalypse.

Seeing myself die as if it were from an outside perspective. I realized that some of Charles' memories were getting mixed in with mine. 

The fight against the Vulture, the smoke in my lungs, the soreness in my wings. The isolation I felt after the school saw the Times Square kiss. My panic attack at the Avengers Complex, the images kept coming.

"Evelyn, Evelyn, open your eyes," a voice commanded. 

I was shaking like a leaf in the wind. My eyes flipped open though I hadn't realized I had shut them. 

Charles was still sitting before me, his face full of worry. "Evie," he breathed, taking my hands in his. "I'm sorry."

I sniffed, stifling tears. 

"I . . . can take away . . ." Charles began.

"No," I stopped him. "I need to remember."

"Evelyn," Charles started softly. "Listen, just a moment . . . I can take away the pain associated with those memories. You'll still have them, all of them. Just the emotion, the trauma, it can all be gone."

I looked up, tears beginning to cover my vision. 

"What I felt," Charles continued, "when I entered your mind, was so intense. I just want to help lessen that. It hurts me to see you this way, Eve. Truly."

"Just the negative feelings, not the memories?" I said after some time. 

"Just the negative feelings," Charles repeated. "You may look back on the memories and remember how terrible it was to experience, but this way, it won't afflict your current self."

"No more panic attacks?" I asked. 

"I can't guarantee it," Charles said quietly. "Because the memories still hold those triggers, like the suit, you said."

I nodded. "But it could help?"

"Yes, yes it could," Charles answered. 

"Okay," I said. 

"Yes?" 

"Yes," I nodded. 

"Alright, let's just go somewhere a little more comfortable," Charles said, leading me out of his office. 

The two of us made our way to my bedroom which had been sitting vacant for some time. 

However, Warren was there dropping off the last of my things. "Wanna go for a fly?" he asked.

"Later, but yes," I said. "That would be nice."

"Alright, I gotta do some homework anyway; I'll be in my room. Want your door closed?" he asked on his way out. 

"Yes, thank you," I said. 

"Okay, then close it." Warren walked away.

With a small smile and a reach of my wing, I pushed the door shut.

"Ready?" Charles asked.

I nodded and sat down on my bed, tucking my wings behind myself. 

"You might want to lie down," said Charles, moving his wheelchair to the side of my bed.

"Is it going to hurt?" I began.

"Not likely," he answered. "But I can't reach your head from here."

"Right," I said with a slight laugh. I had missed our little interactions like these. 

Just as Charles placed a hand to my forehead, I was out like a light. 

Though I hadn't realized any time had passed at all until I woke up. 

Charles was gone. The light coming through my window and into my room was dimmer than before. The hallway just past my bedroom door was quiet as if everyone had gone to dinner. 

I sat up. I felt . . . better: as if all anxiety had been drained from me. 

I swung my legs off the edge of the bed, stood up, and stretched. The sun was low in the sky. I looked to the alarm clock on my bedside table. It was six o'clock. 

Wordlessly, I made my way to the dining hall. The sounds of voices and chatter grew louder as I got closer. I smiled, an excitement building in my chest. 

As I made my way into the room, not a single head turned in my direction. Conversations continued as normal. I was no longer considered an outsider when I was among mutants. 

Warren was at a table with his roommate Peter—Quicksilver—and all their friends. Charles was sitting at the professor's table, chatting, laughing. He looked so uncharacteristically not stressed or worried I couldn't help but smile. 

"Eve!" Warren waved me over. "Saved you a plate, c'mon."

I sat down at his table, elbow to elbow with excited kids. 

"Thank you!" I called over the raucous cafeteria. 

"Eat up 'cause I don't want to miss the sunset. We can go for a fly?" Warren asked.

"Yeah," I smiled. "I'd like that."

"Eve!" said a voice. Warren's roommate Peter sat down next to me, squeezing in to our very crowded table. "Haven't seen you since Cairo, what's up?" 

"Nothing much," I lied, a grin on my face. 

"Last time I saw you, you were like," Peter dragged his hand across his neck and cocked his head. 

"Dead?" I laughed. "Yep."

"Hey, can I be an Avenger?" Peter asked quickly. 

"Pete, stop," Warren said, seriousness in his tone. 

"No, it's fine," I shrugged. I had thought talking about Cairo and the Avengers would send me into another spiral for sure, but I felt completely normal. 

"You sure?" my brother asked. "You okay?"

I nodded. "Charles did this . . . thing."

"If you guys are twins," Peter interrupted, a bite of dinner still in his mouth. "How come Eve got all the good looks?"

"I will clock you into next Tuesday," Warren laughed. 

"And I won't speed-proof-read your reports anymore," Peter retorted, pointing his fork. 

"You can hardly catch mistakes!" said Warren.

"Not true."

"Ugh, just make out already," I rolled my eyes. 

Warren's mouth hung open as he feigned hurt. Though, there was a blush on his cheeks. 

Peter moved his hand overtop of Warren's which my brother then slapped away.

"Whatever, let's go fly," Warren said, getting up with his plate.