In the Storm’s Wake (Part Three)
Scott acknowledged the professor’s request then left the infirmary to get Remy and bring him back. Hank, still unsure about the decision, turned to Charles. "Professor, I must state for the record that I strongly disagree with your decision to remove the collar. Logan needs the rest this sedative can offer. He’s exhausted both physically and emotionally and if we allow him to wake up now there is no telling what condition he will be in. He could very well… and most likely will, wake up in a feral state."
"I understand that possibility exists, Hank," Charles replied quietly and undeterred. Hank sighed in resignation and glanced at Ororo. She was considering what he’d just said and her _expression was one of worry and doubt.
"Would it be logical to request that we at least bind his hands to slow the protraction of his claws if he wakes quickly and… not in the right frame of mind?" Hank asked.
"What do you have in mind, Hank?" Charles asked.
"Well," Hank started slowly, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "Ordinary wrist splints should do the trick," he answered, moving toward the supply cabinet to retrieve two of the items in question to show them. He handed one to each of them and they turned the splints over in their hands and Ororo looked at Hank questioningly.
"These certainly do not look strong enough to stop the protrusion of adamantium blades," she remarked and looked to Xavier for concurrence. Instead of giving it to her, Charles looked over the splint device one more time then turned his attention to Dr. McCoy.
"Please… explain your theory, Hank," Charles said smiling at him, fascinated.
"The way I see it," Hank began to explain as he walked back to the supply cabinet for a roll of medical tape, "the only material, man made or not, that adamantium can not penetrate… is adamantium. Do you agree that I am correct in making that statement?" He turned from the cabinet with tape in hand to see Ororo and Xavier nodding in agreement. Closing the cabinet door, Hank continued his explanation as he made his way back to Logan’s bedside. "Nothing can stop him from releasing his claws… that is, no barrier except adamantium, in any case we have none so the point is moot. So…!" Hank said taking the splint which Charles now handed back to him. "This small and somewhat flimsy device is our best option at the moment."
"How…?" Ororo began to ask as she scrutinized the pre-formed splint she held in her hand. Dr. McCoy slipped the splint onto Logan’s left wrist and began securing it to his hand and forearm with the roll of tape.
"Let me explain," he offered. "In order for Logan to release his claws his hand and forearm must be aligned perfectly straight, so the blades can slide along the bony tracks in his arm and into the tracks in his hand. With his hands bent slightly outward, in this case due to the shape of the splint, he cannot line up the tracks and therefore cannot release his claws from their housings," Hank explained indicating the slight inclination of the pre-formed material. "It’s as simple as that really." As he concluded he set Logan’s splinted hand down on the bed beside him. "Voila." Ororo and Xavier studied the splinted hand now resting on the blood soiled sheet. It was an amazing revelation that the simple positioning of his hand was enough to deter the release of Logan’s inborn weaponry.
"Amazing," Charles proclaimed under his breath and McCoy turned to look at him as he finished splinting Logan’s right hand.
"Of course it is only a theory, but I do believe it is founded."
They waited only a short while until Scott returned to the infirmary with Remy as requested. And due to the injuries he’d sustained from Wolverine’s assault, Scott found Jean’s request to accompany her patient reasonable and allowed her to join them.
Professor Xavier greeted Remy and thanked him for his willingness to assist them after what he’d already been through. LeBeau’s face and eyes were bruised and swollen, as was his bottom lip which still bore the stitches needed to close the wound.
"Wanted ta be here from da beginnin’, Monsieur. Logan ma friend, mes ami, dat hasn’t changed non," Gambit replied. "Da Wolverine… he in trouble, mi. Remy wanna help." Charles nodded with a grin. He felt enormous pride in his X-Men and the loyalty they showed to one another at all costs. "What ya’ need Gambit ta do?" he asked the professor.
"Well, at the moment we’re not entirely sure we will need your assistance, Remy. I’d like you here in case we can’t get through to him when he awakes. Perhaps you will be able to." Charles told him and Gambit nodded, then the professor turned back to Hank. "Dr. McCoy? If you would, remove the collar please."
Hank nodded and took a deep breath in preparation. Reaching out, he unlatched the locking mechanism on the metal ring around Logan’s neck and slowly, with Ororo’s assistance, slid the device out from under him and placed it on the side table. They waited a few moments but Logan didn’t stir. Hank sat down on the bed and checked his patient’s vital signs. All appeared to be normal.
"His healing factor has been slowed significantly. It may take a few minutes for it to recover and expel the sedative from his system," Hank explained as he worked checking Logan’s breath sounds with a stethoscope and using his thumb to gently lift his eyelids to check his pupils. The others nodded silently and waited.
Minutes passed and Hank looked up at Ororo to offer her a supportive smile when suddenly LeBeau gasped loudly behind them and stumbled, clutching his head as Scott grabbed onto his arm to steady him. Before anyone could ask him what was wrong, LeBeau forced out one word through his pain. "Wolverine," he groaned.
A moment later, Logan’s eyes opened without warning and he snapped his teeth viciously at the figure hovering over him. Hank, momentarily surprised, pulled away and Wolverine immediately retreated from Hank’s towering form. He began to back pedal across the bed, away from the blurred shape looming over him. He dragged monitor leads with him as he dug his heels into the mattress pushing himself up into a sitting position on top of the pillow and slamming his back against the wall. Realizing immediately that that was as far as he could go, his back against the wall, he growled savagely striking out at Hank with a splinted hand. Hank barely dodged it before he realized the claws were restrained.
‘Thank God,’ Hank exclaimed silently.
The whites of Logan’s eyes were blood red and his pupils had dilated to enormous size. His hair bristled and changed shape, i t now stood on end, over-exaggerating the pointy tufts on his head that he was well known for. Hank had mentioned this phenomenon to the rest of the team earlier and explained the natural reasoning behind this ability.
Wolverine, like his animal namesake, was small compared to the average-sized human male – mutant or otherwise – and, like the four-legged version, Wolverine’s hair shafts are hollow, which enables him to ‘puff up’ under stress to give the impression that he was larger than he actually was and it still fascinated him to see Wolverine put his hackles up that way.
"Logan," Hank said, hoping his voice would trigger a familial response in his feral teammate. "Take it easy," he offered quietly, but it didn’t. Logan’s mind was locked in an image from his past – an image of pain, humiliation and torture. The stresses of his ‘take down’ earlier and images of the Weapon X lab converged. He had no idea where he was or who all these people were. He swiped out at Hank with his left hand and to Wolverine’s dismay his claws did not release. ‘Thank the Almighty,’ Hank thought as he jumped back again.
Wolverine began tearing at the splint with his teeth, growling savagely. Hank stepped forward and slapped it away from Logan’s mouth with a powerful swipe of his hand. The strike surprised the berserk X-Man and he bolted over Hank, kicking out at the doctor’s head as he leapt over him. The power-driven kick would’ve sent an average human sprawling unconscious to the floor, but Hank’s own power and strength equaled Logan’s, in proportion to each man’s physical size, and as Hank was the larger of the two he’d been momentarily stunned but hardly incapacitated. He spun around in time to see Logan land hard on his feet, the sedative making his body feel heavy and, lacking his normal agility and balance, he went sprawling face first into the tiled floor.
"Logan!" Ororo shouted, moving toward him in concern.
"No, Storm," Hank warned her, waving her back with his hand. She stopped only a few feet from where Logan was laid out on the cold tile, wanting desperately to pull him into her arms and calm his panicked mind.
When Logan bolted from the bed, the monitor leads that were attached to his head and torso had snapped back and were now wrapped loosely around Hank’s arm and chest. He absently pulled them free, letting them fall to the floor as he moved around the bed. Logan was still lying on the floor stunned and Jean quickly moved Charles away from him fearing that he’d been Wolverine’s intended target.
"Okay. Everyone stay calm," McCoy advised them softly as he moved cautiously toward his patient. "Jean? Would you initiate the emergency door locks please?" he asked in a conversational tone so as not to alert Logan to his plans. Jean nodded and the sound of the locks moving into place could be heard. Logan regained his bearings, sort of, and scrambled to his feet trying to clear his head with a few quick shakes. Tearing the splint from his left hand with his teeth he let the torn remnants fall to the floor. "Take it easy, my friend. We’re not going to harm you," Hank tried to reassure him.
Logan turned to face him. Growling, he flashed his sharp teeth at Hank then ripped the splint from his right hand and positioned both fists at his sides, wrists locked straight. His shoulders rounded forward and he held his head low. He stood on weak and shaky legs, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Wolverine was prepared to fight to protect himself. It was obvious to them that he was not at all aware of where he was or who all these people were. The events of the past few days had thrown him into a confused state where the pain and terror of his tortured past blended with the memories of his most recent captivity at the Weapon X compound. The events and the memories twisted and danced in his mind until he was no longer sure what was then or if then was now. His awareness of once again being restrained inside a laboratory setting and surrounded by people intent on keeping him caged had thrown him over the edge.
He stood before them barefoot, bloody and half-naked and he blinked at his teammates with a blood red haze blurring his vision. Hank moved slowly toward the snarling, feral X-Man and noticed that the gaping wounds between Logan’s knuckles had healed over and were visible only as scars now. Logan’s healing factor was recovering from the sedative and with that knowledge Hank became aware of a fact that he’d overlooked many times before. Wolverine’s accelerated healing ability allowed him to recover from horrendous physical injury almost instantaneously, never leaving behind any evidence of the trauma that Logan had endured.
Anyone else suffering the same injuries that Logan did would’ve taken weeks and in some cases months to physically recover depending on the seriousness of the injury. The time it would normally take for the average human, or even a mutant without a healing factor, to recover from such debilitation would’ve certainly allowed plenty of time for the emotional trauma to ease before being placed back into the mainstream and declared fit for duty. Hank realized now, with great remorse, that that was a necessary part of healing that Logan had never been allowed. His healing factor was unsurpassed when it came to healing his physical wounds, but it could not however relieve any of Wolverine’s emotional or psychological trauma. And whenever he was physically able to return to active duty he was deemed once again combat ready and put into one life threatening situation after another. And after so many years of conditioning, Logan still forced himself back into action even when the professor and Dr. McCoy demanded he give himself a little more time.
Hank also realized that the human condition does not readily accept, nor sympathize with, another’s pain unless the actual physical evidence of the trauma was staring them in the face. And Logan’d learned long ago that only his physical condition was of any concern or importance to those around him and should be his only concern also. That was Logan’s true curse, not his mutation, but living a life where his emotional and psychological needs were ignored as soon as his physical injuries were mended.
"Not this time, my friend," Hank finished his thought aloud. "We’re here for you." Wolverine, hearing his voice but not understanding the words, snarled at him and the hair on his arms and chest rippled as he postured in defense.
"Henri," Gambit spoke softly, still recovering from the empathic overload of Wolverine’s berserk psyche. "He frightened, mi… an’ confused."
"I know, Remy," Hank replied, not taking his eyes off Wolverine.
"His rage… blinds him. Don’ hurt him, mec." LeBeau offered, shakily.
"I have no intention of causing him any more harm," Hank stated, still wary about averting his eyes. He knew just how quick his primitive pal could be.
"His bete… in control…" Remy continued, rubbing his temples as he waited for the pain to subside.
"Remy, please!" Hank shushed him, he really wanted the Cajun to be quiet. He needed to think and think of something quickly. If Wolverine decided to attack none of them would be a match for his razor sharp claws. They would be able to stop him, but not without hurting him and Hank didn’t want that. Then a thought struck him. "We need Peter," he decided. "Jean?"
"I’m on it," she said with a nod. With that, she quickly contacted Kurt telepathically and instructed him to teleport the large Russian to the infirmary immediately to help wrangle the Wolverine.
In the infirmary, Beast stood his ground making sure to stay between Wolverine and the others. Seconds felt like hours as he prayed that Logan was only looking out for himself and not looking for blood. Finally, with a puff of black smoke and the familiar odor of burning brimstone Kurt materialized with Peter just a few feet behind Dr. McCoy. The acrid smell of sulfur that accompanied Nightcrawler’s teleportations filled their nostrils. The striking odor stung Wolverine’s heightened sense of smell. That, and the sudden appearance of his two teammates, startled Wolverine and he bolted for the door.
"Logan, no!" Hank shouted, knowing the door was locked and would not slide open as Wolverine probably expected it to.
Logan sprinted for the exit. When the door didn’t slide open on his approach, he realized he was trapped and would have to claw his way out. In less time than it takes to tell, Logan closed the distance and leapt into the air, unsheathing his claws. Embedding them in the metal door and planting his feet against the steel plates, he began clawing his way through the thick steel as he clung to the door four feet above the floor.
Peter Rasputin, seeing his cue, stepped around Hank without a word spoken. Standing at six feet four inches he already stood head and shoulders above the rest, now with the speed of thought, his human flesh turned to organic steel and his physical mass gained in height and girth. As he approached the frenzied X-Man, Colossus now towered over Wolverine and in his frenzy for freedom Logan was totally unaware of his approach.
Colossus reached out and wrapped his right arm around Wolverine’s torso. He gave a slight tug to test Logan’s weight and how well he was anchored to the door. Calculating correctly, he gave a sharp tug that was sufficient to dislodge Wolverine’s grip without crushing him.
"I’ve got you, Tovarisch," the giant Russian told him passively as Logan kicked his legs wildly trying to loosen his hold, then he wrapped his left arm around Logan’s arms, successfully pinning down those lethal blades. Wolverine wiggled about violently, trying to free himself. Saliva clung to his chin as it streamed from his deadly, oversized canines.
"Can you hold him, Peter?" Jean asked.
"Da, I have him," Colossus answered calmly even as his deranged teammate kicked him violently, trying to turn his head to bite. The loud clashing of his teeth as they snapped and closed on nothing but air gave evidence to the power of those jaws. Sadly, Wolverine was frantically trying to defend himself against the very group of people who would never hesitate to put their own lives on the line to protect him. And Colossus, whose heart was as big as his steel form, continued to speak quietly to Wolverine trying to sooth his rage even as he thrashed the gentle giant.
"I’ll get the sedative," Jean announced as she turned away but before she could take her first step…
"No!" Storm snapped, stopping Jean in her tracks.
"What?!"
"Do not sedate him again! Let his rage run its course!" Storm told her, then she turned to Hank. "If we force him under again, like this, he’ll only wake up a few hours from now like this… or even worse. His rage has a cause… and a purpose, and we have to stop ignoring that. He needs to know it is valid and justified. He has a right to feel angry, to feel rage…"
"Ororo, he’s dangerous…" Hank started to rebuke.
"So let’s talk him down, let him know we care. Sedating him solves nothing. We have to gain his trust and let him know he is safe… and loved. We sedate him and push him in a corner so we do not have to deal with it and that has got to stop. He needs to learn how to regain control and that we are here to help, not hinder or hurt."
"Ororo is correct," Charles told his students. "That is why I have asked Remy to be here."
"Gambit?" Scott asked surprised. "What can he do? Explode a few cards at him? No offense, Gambit," he said turning to LeBeau.
"None taken, Boss," Gambit replied with a smirk.
"Gambit’s mutant abilities do not stop with his ability to charge objects kinetically," the professor informed his attentive pupils. "He also has the gift of empathy."
"What?" Scott blurted, and was echoed by the others in the room.
"His ability to charm people, which he is well known for, is actually the ability to feel others’ emotions. He can project feelings to others, and from one person to another, as well as absorb those emotions himself." Charles explained as Gambit stood nearby nodding. Scott looked Gambit up and down from head to toe as if seeing him for the first time. Gambit shrugged at him with a sheepish grin and Charles answered the next question before Scott had time to verbalize it. "We just found out, Scott. It took a while for me to understand the way his ‘charm’ powers worked. He had trouble explaining it clearly enough for me to identify it for what it truly is," Charles explained.
"You can help us to project our true concern for Logan," Ororo stated as she stepped forward grasping his elbow with the strength of renewed hope. Gambit smiled slightly and nodded. "He can’t trust what he hears or what he sees, but…" she looked up into his scarlet eyes with tears of joy building in her own, "he’ll trust what he feels in our hearts."
Gambit laid his hand atop hers, which were gripping his elbow fiercely, and nodded with a compassionate smile as his empathy picked up Ororo’s deepest feelings. He didn’t have to reach for them or search them out, Ororo’s heart was on her sleeve for all to see if they so desired. She loved Logan, but more than that… she was in love with him. She no longer denied it to herself and apparently had no desire to deny it any longer to others. Her soul was screaming for the chance, just one chance, to tell him how she felt. She was ready now, she was ready to reach out to the man who’d been reaching out to them for so long and been denied. Gambit was ready too, ready to bring the two of them together, the way it should be… the way it was meant to be. He kissed Ororo on the forehead and stepped toward Colossus and his rebellious charge.
TBC in "In the Storm’s Wake (Part Four)
