Hypomania
08 November. 11:30 AM.
Hank McCoy was a patient man. It was a widely known fact, something both easily observed and consistently proven in his teaching style. He didn’t mind re-explaining concepts to his students in class, or even taking time out of his schedule to work with children like Jubilee that needed a few extra lessons to get the information to stick. It was never an inconvenience, never an annoyance to him— but even with all the patience in the world, he still had his limits.
He absolutely hated having to play mediator for student altercations. Unfortunately though, Peter Maximoff was a student that loved getting into altercations.
“You bitch! You broke my fucking nose!”
Hank didn’t quite catch what Peter had tripped on, but the entire dining hall fell quiet when the speedster ran face first into the ground. And of course, they all heard the harsh string of expletives that followed as he picked himself up. Peter took his goggles off and wiped his bloody nose on the sleeve of his t-shirt. He shot a vicious glare in his sister’s direction.
Hank grabbed a handful of napkins from a nearby table, rushing them into Peter’s grasp before Wanda had a chance to retaliate. “Please don’t speak to your sister like that.” He started— but on second thought, maybe now wasn’t the best time for that conversation. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, man! I feel great! It’s not like I’m bleeding or anything,” Peter sarcastically replied.
“You say that like it’s a big deal.” Wanda spoke in a cold, clipped tone. Her eyes glowed red as she twisted her hand, sending an unfinished lunch into the trash bin with her powers. “You heal fast. You should get over this just as quickly.”
“Get over it?! You trip me and make me shatter my face, and—”
“I don’t recall being anywhere near you when you fell.”
Peter threw his goggles to the ground in frustration. “She broke my nose! Hank, c’mon! You saw what she did, right?”
Hank wasn’t really… the best when it came to things like this. “I mean, we don’t actually know if it’s broken yet,” he tried, desperate to de-escalate the situation as quickly as possible. The twins were just like their elder sister— all three of them took after their father when it came to their tempers, and well, their powers were more than capable of leveling the school if they got carried away. “How about we discuss this later? After everyone calms down and that nose of yours stops bleeding enough for me to take a proper look at it. Can we all agree on that?”
Wanda rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” Peter scowled at her nonchalance, but eventually nodded in agreement.
Hank let out a tense breath. “Thank you,” he said— and with the situation diffused, the students in the dining hall quickly moved on, branching out into their individual conversations once again. Morbid curiosity never lasted very long. And neither did any of Peter’s injuries, so if his nose really was broken, then Hank needed to deal with that before it healed incorrectly.
In the infirmary, Peter kicked his legs back and forth as he sat on the examination bed. With the pain already subsiding, he spat a wad of blood and mucus into a tissue before ogling at how gross it looked. He shot it into the trash bin. “So… you don’t think I just fell and ate shit, right?”
Hank handed him an ice pack. “What do you mean?”
“Wanda used her freaky witch powers and tripped me in front of everyone.”
“I had a feeling she was responsible for that. But we really don’t use that kind of language here.” Hank could say that he knew each of the students pretty well at this point; Peter was just the type that needed reminders on things like that. He wasn’t a bad kid. That had never been the case. He just genuinely seemed to like getting in trouble and… well, sometimes he needed a bit more attention than the others.
Peter poked at the bridge of his nose, testing the speed of his healing factor. He only slightly winced this time. “Can you send me to Professor Xavier after this? We played chess last time I had detention, and I’m really trying to break my losing streak.”
“You’re… asking me for detention?”
“Yeah?”
Hank didn’t understand teenagers. Everytime he thought he was getting a better grasp on them, something always managed to prove him wrong. “Just skip class.” He couldn’t believe he was saying this to a student. “If you want to play chess with the professor, please just skip class instead. I promise you it will make everybody’s life a little bit easier.”
Peter hummed in consideration. “I mean… I could. I feel like that would be way less fun though,” he said, and Hank narrowly resisted the urge to drop his head into his hands. Nothing was ever easy for him. It was just one of those things that came with the career choice.
-
10 November. 9:00 AM.
Hank tapped his fingers on the table as he poured over his lesson plans for the day. He drained the last of his coffee in a single mouthful, but before he could even consider pouring himself another cup, the Professor caught his attention with a brief clearing of his throat.
“Hank, do you mind sharing how much sleep you got last night?”
“Um,” he stammered. “Why do you ask?” Charles glanced at the empty mug, and Hank suddenly felt the urge to flee the kitchen— maybe even the building itself. He couldn’t run nearly as fast as Peter, but he was still fast enough to keep the option open.
Charles looked at him with sharp eyes. “Do you really want me to answer that? It’s obvious you aren’t resting enough, my friend. That was your third cup of coffee. It’s barely even nine in the morning and you’re already thinking of getting more.”
“I was… trying really hard to keep that thought to myself.”
Hank sighed. It was no secret that he could be a workaholic at times, but it was never intentional. He just had a lot of projects that needed his attention. Sometimes he would lose track of time only to realize that he worked through the night— but by then, it wasn’t like he could make up for the lost sleep.
Charles gestured for Hank to follow him. He led the two of them to his office, where Hank took a seat in front of the Professor’s desk. “I hate to ask this when you’re already busy enough, but I’m sure you’ve noticed Mystique’s absence these last few days.”
Of course he noticed, there was only a handful of faculty at this school to begin with. “Is everything alright?”
“There’s nothing to worry about, my sister can take care of herself quite well.” Charles eased his worries with a smile. He knew exactly what Mystique was capable of, the two of them had been inseparable since they were children. “She’s actually been making arrangements to bring a new friend here for safekeeping.”
The memory of one of the Professor’s old seminars resurfaced at the front of Hank’s mind. It was one of his guest lessons at Harvard, specifically the one where he spoke about the Wilson Effect. Hank recalled it in perfect detail with Charles’ assistance.
The Wilson Effect was only an idea at the time, but it would later be used to describe the late onset of mutations in adults. It was possible for the X-gene to stay dormant through adolescence, only to suddenly mutate later in life. Hank had only ever heard of it in victims of Trask experimentation or human lab testing, but he was getting the idea that this was a different situation altogether.
“The human body reacts unpredictably in times of great stress,” Charles confirmed. He rested his hands on his desk. “I’d like you and Mystique to help Miss Morales adjust to things while she stays with us. She’s new to our version of the world and I can only imagine the confusion going through her head. She may need more patience than previous guests.”
“I can do that,” Hank said— and coincidentally, he happened to be an incredibly patient man. The same couldn’t really be said for Mystique, but he supposed that was why they’d be working together on this.
-
11 November. 12:00 AM.
It was the middle of the night when Mystique arrived with Miss Morales. Hank only managed to get a few hours of rest beforehand, but that was to be expected with his sleep schedule— or well, what was left of it these days.
Mystique was waiting for him when he left his bedroom. “Nice pajamas.”
“I can’t tell if that’s a genuine compliment or not,” Hank said. She shrugged in response— and honestly, he was starting to suspect that he was just bad at understanding people in general. He was the type to take things literally. Mystique certainly never made it easy to tell when she was joking, so as much as they got along, Hank found himself overthinking most of their interactions.
They walked to the infirmary to meet with the Professor. He was already inside, speaking to a thin black woman that had taken a seat on the examination bed. She sat with her hands in her lap and seemed to agree with something the Professor said.
“That’s right, Mystique told me about you.” She paused for a moment, “You’re the telepathic one. How do I know you aren’t listening to all my thoughts?”
Charles chuckled softly. “Well, if I’m being honest, you wouldn’t notice if I was— but I can assure you there’s nothing I wouldn’t simply ask you in person. I’m the headmaster of a school specifically made for runaways and teenage mutants, I have much better things to do than poke around in people’s minds when I’m bored.”
The woman didn’t seem to have any complaints with that. Mystique grabbed a water bottle from the fridge and placed it on the edge of the exam bed for her. She hesitated before taking it.
“This is Theresa. She doesn't like being touched,” Mystique announced as she pulled over a nearby chair, taking a seat beside the Professor.
Theresa nodded. Her coat was ill-fitting and dwarfed her frame, but Hank could clearly see the stiffness in her movements. She turned to look at him, “What about you? She’s a chameleon and he’s the world’s greatest therapist— do you fly or something?”
“I’m Dr. Hank McCoy,” he said, catching himself before he stepped forward to shake her hand. It was a force of habit. He needed to work on that in the future. “My mutation is— uh, it’s actually way less interesting than that.”
Mystique made a disapproving sound. “He’s being modest. Hank here is a superhuman prodigy, don't listen to him.” She waved him off and Theresa briefly laughed under her breath.
“I suppose that makes me a spark plug then.” She took a sip from her water and didn’t stop until the bottle was empty. She seemed to zone out for a moment. “I’m sorry, this is just a lot for me to take in. I was completely fine a few months ago and now it feels like I’m swimming through static all the time.”
The professor nodded empathetically. “That sounds very difficult to adjust to,” he said, and all Hank could do was quietly agree. Theresa merely shrugged.
“I’m not really the type to adjust to things easily. I just want to feel normal again.”
“Oh, I’m sure. People don’t tend to do well with change, let alone with something as impactful as a sudden mutation.” Charles continued, “Things will get easier with time, but I can relieve some of your anxiety for now, if you’ll allow me. I promise you I’ll only be in there for a moment.”
Theresa hesitated, idly tapping her fingers on her leg. “Only a moment?”
“Only a moment.”
“Alright then,” Theresa agreed. The professor touched his temple and she let out a long breath, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she deflated. “Okay… I can see why that would be useful. You didn’t overhear anything?”
“Only the fact that you find Hank’s lab strangely comforting,” he admitted, to Hank’s genuine surprise. “I can’t say that I feel the same, but I’m sure he might— with the amount of time he’d rather spend here than spend sleeping in his own room. You’re welcome to as well, if the environment puts you at ease.”
Mystique cleared her throat. “Some of us have been traveling all day, Charles.”
“Yes, of course. I believe you can show our new guest to her room?”
She yawned and nodded. “Yeah, it’s over in the west wing. You’re right down the hall from me,” she said as she rose to her feet. Hank took a step back to let Theresa pass without issue, and she followed Mystique out of the room, trailing a few steps behind her.
-
11 November. 6:30 AM.
Theresa woke up with a jolt. The hair on her body stood on edge as the electricity raced through her veins, her heart pounding in her chest. She pulled herself upright and tried to ease her lungs back to a steady rhythm.
This was the worst part of her new normal— starting the day like she got struck by lightning, and having to calm herself down everytime she had the misfortune of waking up. She hadn’t slept through the night in what felt like a lifetime. It took a while before she was able to work back down to her typical amount of anxiety, but Theresa knew she was awake for good. Adrenaline had a funny way of doing that sometimes.
It didn’t matter that she had driven all the way to upstate New York with Mystique only yesterday. Her mind was awake and it didn’t care how exhausted she was, it had other ideas for her morning.
Theresa dragged herself out of bed. She was going to find something to do; at least until her body decided to get on the same page and give her an excuse to lay back down. She found a wide comb among her things as she changed her clothes. She noticed a large mirror in the corner of the bedroom.
Mystique mentioned that her family came from money when they met, but Theresa couldn’t say that she expected to stay at an actual mansion. The mirror was ornate, likely worth an old fortune. She combed her hair flat and tried to style some life back into her bangs. She preferred to keep her hair straightened as much as possible— but it wasn’t like she had the energy to keep that up lately. It looked alright, if not a bit frizzy from the static, but that couldn’t be helped. This was the best she could do for now.
In the hallway, the high ceilings drew Theresa’s attention as she wandered further into the building. Morning light spilled in through the windows. The view she had of the garden and open acres behind the school was beautiful, the sight almost peaceful enough to put her anxious heart at ease.
She must have followed her steps from last night, because she soon found herself near the infirmary once again. The school doctor was indeed awake and working inside— and Theresa supposed the Professor had been telling the truth about his time management skills after all. Hank noticed her presence at the door and jumped, nearly knocking a stack of papers off his desk.
“Oh!” He scrambled to get his things back in order. “Theresa! Good morning, I hope you, uh, managed to get some sleep.”
She didn’t see any reason to lie to the man— she slept like shit and could only assume that she looked the part as well. “Not really. You’re still in here, so I’m gonna guess that you didn’t either.”
“No. I actually don’t sleep very much,” he admitted with a hesitant laugh. “Oh, you can come inside if you’d like.”
Theresa preferred to stay near the door. She declined his invitation, despite the new air of solidarity between the two insomniacs. “I was actually trying to find my way downstairs. Maybe you could point me in the right direction instead?” She hoped that she wasn’t being troublesome. She knew that she could find her way eventually if she really tried— but to her surprise, Hank offered to show her the way himself.
It was a very kind offer. There were obviously other things that needed his attention, but Theresa couldn’t say she didn’t appreciate the help. Especially as Hank kept a safe distance away from her while they walked through the winding halls. She followed him down the grand staircase and into the entrance hall.
“We usually have students lead the tours. I’m pretty good with directions myself, though,” he said, his voice breaking through the early morning quiet. “If there’s anything else you need, I—”
There was a sudden clang, followed by the harsh noise of crunching metal. Theresa flinched. She froze as static electricity pulsed between her fingertips and built in the air. Hank almost looked intrigued as his hair began to stand on end, but then he looked over and noticed her obvious panic.
“Are you alright? I’m so sorry, that must be Lorna in the other room.”
Theresa nodded and quickly tried to ease her nerves back down. “Sorry, it just surprised me.”
“She can get a bit loud while she’s working, I can ask her to be more careful in the future.” He seemed genuinely apologetic. “Actually… given your mutations, the two of you should probably meet at some point,” he realized as he adjusted his glasses, already walking over to the nearby classroom. He knocked on the open door and a woman with deep green hair looked over; Theresa assumed this was Lorna.
Lorna dressed in all black. She wore silver jewelry on her neck and wrists, and there was a large metallic structure sitting in the middle of the room. “I know, I know. I’ll quiet down,” she immediately said upon seeing Hank enter the room. She noticed Theresa standing behind him. “I haven’t seen her around before, though. Who’s this?”
Hank introduced the two of them. “This is Theresa, she’ll be staying at the school for a while. Both of your mutations deal with electromagnetic waves, so there’s actually going to be a lot of overlap in your powers,” he said, and Theresa gave a small wave in her direction. She took a second look at the menacing metal sculpture. It was vague, but there was a distinct shape to it.
“Did you make that?” She asked.
“I’m in the process of making it,” Lorna replied. “It’s not like I’d call it much more than scrap metal right now, but I can shape it into anything I want. Your hair is super staticky, by the way.”
Theresa felt her face flush hot with embarrassment and quickly smoothed her flyaways back down. “Sorry. I don’t really do anything cool with my… powers. Mostly just this and electrocuting people.”
“Yeah, that happens sometimes.” Lorna shrugged like she completely understood the feeling. She looked toward her art piece. “I’m gonna get back to this now, but it was nice meeting you,” she said, and Theresa knew that she could genuinely say the same thing.
She bit back a yawn, and the sudden realization that she was tired again dawned upon her. She said her goodbyes to both Lorna and Hank, and excused herself to make the winding trip back upstairs. Everybody at this school was so nice, it made her head spin.
Theresa supposed she would have to get used to that.