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Chapter 24

Acts of Vengeance, part 4


Logan let out a groan and, although sapped of his strength, he was restless. He was dreaming. Hank sat beside his bed watching as he thrashed about weakly; his feet moved only slightly as Logan tried, unsuccessfully, to move his legs; he tried to raise his arms, in an effort to fend off his unseen assailants, but they fell back heavy on the bed.

Jean had pulled the airway tube from Logan’s throat about half an hour ago. He'd begun to choke on it as he regained some sensation and his reflexes began to return to normal. His gag reflex had recovered so he could now hold his own airway. Hank watched him a moment longer then stood up.

"I believe I’ll prepare a sedative. He’s obviously still too weak to regain consciousness and I see no logical reason to leave him swimming around in whatever dark limbo his mind is in right now."

The others in the room nodded in agreement while Storm just stood next to the bed staring at Wolverine with concern. She was caressing Logan’s fingers with her left hand and, as he groaned again, she ran her right hand through his hair. Bobby and Jean watched her, then exchanged looks. "’Ro, you should try to get some rest," Jean finally told her. It was almost dawn again and Storm hadn’t slept in nearly twenty-four hours.

"I’m fine," Ororo replied without raising her eyes from him. Hank came back to Logan’s side with a syringe in hand. He inserted it into the port on the I.V. tube and pushed the plunger down. They watched silently as Logan slowly stopped fidgeting and became quiet.

"He’ll be out for a couple of hours," Hank remarked.

"At least a couple of hours..." Jean interjected and when Dr. McCoy looked up at her, she nodded once toward Ororo with the hope that Hank could talk her into getting some much needed sleep.

"Indeed," Hank nodded, then turned his attention to Ororo. "You really should try to rest now."

"No, I'm fine, Hank. Truly," she looked up to see the skeptical expression on his face and tried to explain. "You don’t understand, I can’t lea…"

"No, you don’t understand," Hank cut her off. "Doctor’s orders… get some sleep," he ordered in a firm tone. Ororo’s eyes filled with tears; she was utterly exhausted and barely able to contain her emotions. The storm goddess had certainly never earned a reputation for wearing her heart on her sleeve, but the tears escaped her now and Jean came over and put her arm around Storm’s shoulder.

"Come on," she prodded gently. Ororo finally relented and allowed Jean to lead her away. The thought of leaving him when he needed her the most was almost more than Ororo could handle. Although she was being forced away from Logan's side Ororo couldn’t help but feel that she was abandoning him. As they stepped through the curtains to the other side Jean suddenly stopped.

"This looks pretty good, doesn’t it?" she asked Ororo, referring to the bed right next to Logan’s. Ororo’s tension about having to leave his side was immediately replaced with relief and she leaned into Jean with a grateful smile softening her weary features. Jean smiled back, squeezing Storm’s shoulders in the crook of her arm. "If that were Scott lying there, I wouldn’t want to leave either," she confided. With a look of discomfort Ororo stepped out from under Jean's embrace and sat down on the edge of the bed, studying her hands in her lap for a moment.

"It’s not quite the same, now is it?" Ororo replied quietly.

"No?" Jean challenged in a friendly manner as she turned down the blankets.

"No," Storm answered, straightening her back in defiance, "of course not."

"Okay, slide in," Jean said, patting her hand on the bed. Storm slid over and tucked her legs under the blankets. Jean hovered as Ororo lay down, making her feel like a small child being tucked in for the night. Jean pulled the blankets over her, then leaned in close. "Are you trying to convince me... or yourself?" she asked.

"You’re imagining things," Storm replied trying to sound convincing, but averted her eyes from Jean’s.

"Okay, okay," Jean replied, letting the matter go for now; this was not the time to get her riled up. She pulled the curtains around ‘Ro’s bed and switched off the overhead light. As Jean started to move away, she heard Storm’s tired voice half-whisper at the same time she picked up her friend's thoughts.

"Jean?"

"Got it," Jean answered, pulling the curtain aside that separated Storm from Logan. Hank looked up distracted and Bobby turned around to see what was up as Storm rolled onto her side to face Logan.

"Thank you."

"You’re welcome," Jean smiled. Hank and Bobby exchanged looks, then Bobby said good night and made his way out. After a final check on their patient, Jean and Hank stepped out of the small enclosed area to give the pair some privacy. A moment later, Ororo was fast asleep.


~*~*~ Elsewhere in the mansion ~*~*

"You can let it go now, Scott," Warren spoke out, sweeping his arm at Cyclops in dismissal then walked to the other side of the room. "I'm done spouting off." Scott had gone in search of Worthington and found him sitting in the mansion’s library. The winged X-Man was already in a dispute with Rogue and Kurt when Scott arrived. He was beside himself with his own anger at Angel's attitude earlier in the evening and he was determined to give Warren an attitude adjustment.

"I have no intention of letting it go, Angel. We all know that you and Wolverine don’t get along real well and I’ve been willing to chalk it up to "personality conflict"…."

"Yeah. You could say that," Warren laughed sarcastically, shaking his head.

"Regardless! You are an X-Man and so is he! And X-Men look out for one another. You’d better get used to that idea, because that’s the way it is! Do you understand me, Warren?" Scott was nearly red in the face as his temper got the best of him. "Unless... you don’t want to be an X-Man anymore."

"Hey, I've got no problem fighting the good fight, shoulder to shoulder, with anyone! But…" Warren paused and as his words trailed off Rogue stood up, looking at him curiously.

"But what, Warren?" she asked.

"That man..." he said obviously referring to Logan. "He brings way too much baggage with him."

"And you don’t?!" Kurt asked angrily in Logan’s defense. He stood up and walked toward Angel, creating a surreal image of good against 'evil'. "Every one of us has secrets, things from our past that we hope will stay there. Sometimes they do, sometimes they don’t. Nobody’s perfect. You’re spoiled and arrogant... I was a freak in the circus... Remy's a thief...!"

"Was a t’ief," LeBeau corrected.

"Remy's changed, Kurt," Rogue reminded him.

"Ja', of course. I'm sorry, mein freund," he apologized and Gambit smirked with a wink.

"Yeah? Well, Logan’s changed too, Rogue," Scott stated, as if he needed to.

"I know that, Scott," she reminded him softly that she was on his side in this internal dispute. Kurt pointed one thick, blue-furred finger at Angel and added his own two cents worth.

"And, he’s been an X-Man a lot longer than you!"

"Oh, he has not! I was here first!!" Warren screamed back.

"And you left!! You left your home and the team because you couldn't have it your way!" Kurt shouted back. "Therefore, the time you have missed on and off over the years gives Wolverine more years of service as an X-Man!"

"That's not the point, Kurt," Scott stated, trying to keep their attention on the issue at hand, but Warren was already into his reply.

"Ahhh," he flipped his hand at Kurt with a sarcastic look of disgust, "you are his friend, you’re not thinking…"

"I’m his best friend," Kurt glared at him.

"Whatever. You take this too personal."

"Warren!" Rogue exclaimed. She stepped back, shocked by his flippant attitude. Their friend - their teammate - was right now recovering from major surgery in the institute’s infirmary. A few hours ago, every last X-Man in house tonight was wearing Logan’s blood on their clothes.

"What?" Warren asked, then hoping to use his "charm" to get her to understand his side, he reached for her. "Come on, Rogue."

"No," she pulled free of his grasp. "You come on," she said, her fiery southern temper now starting to show. "How can you be so callous about what’s happened to Wolverine?"

"The man is…"

"Dying!" Kurt blurted out, cutting off Warren’s words.

"What?!" Scott turned in surprise, as did Rogue and Remy.

"Could be," Kurt said, glaring at Angel and clenching his teeth.

"Don’t say that, Kurt," Rogue scolded him fearfully not sure that it wasn’t the truth, but Kurt ignored her.

"Would dat make you happy?" he asked Worthington. Kurt’s anger and grief showed in his bright yellow eyes, his tail whipped from side to side and his fingers curled into fists. Warren said nothing as he stared into Kurt’s eyes, he wanted to tell the X-Man "No", that’s not what he wanted, but he knew Kurt wouldn’t believe him.

"Stop this. All of you," Charles’ stern voice floated to them from across the room. They'd been so engrossed in their argument that none of them had seen him enter the room. Now they turned to look at him. "We are all exhausted and emotions are high. Let’s not say things tonight that we will be sorry for tomorrow," he counceled and the five X-Men exchanged looks. "None of this will help Logan." His voice sounded tired all of a sudden. "Everyone, get some rest."

"Professor…" Scott began.

"Tomorrow, Scott," Xavier replied, making it clear that the matter was now closed. "Everyone, get some sleep." Kurt stole a backward glance at Warren then reluctantly disappeared in a puff of black smoke. Charles trusted that Nightcrawler had teleported to his room. The others slowly filed past his wheelchair as they bid him good night. When they had all gone Charles bowed his head in silent thought, worrying that his students’ emotions might interfere with them being able to work together as a team, if that need should arise before their differences were amended. "Sleep well, my X-Men," he wished them aloud. He left the now-quiet library to retire to his own room, although he knew that sleep would not come to him tonight.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Hank and Bobby had left a few hours ago and Ororo was still asleep. Jean sat at her desk looking over Logan’s medical records; there wasn’t much there. Until now, he'd never had much need of her services as a doctor. Except in extreme cases he had no trouble healing himself; gunshot wounds, stabbings, poisons, toxins, disease - his special genetic make-up took care of it all… usually.

She noted that the last time he had been a patient in the infirmary was years ago. When, during a fight with Magneto, ‘the Master of Magnetism’ himself had forcibly stripped the adamantium from Logan’s skeleton. Breaking it down to its molecular level, he forced the metal out of Logan’s body through his open wounds.

The X-Men had witnessed the heinous event and could do nothing to stop it... and Logan’s screams still echoed in her ears to this day. His body had been literally torn apart before he was mercifully rendered unconscious and Jean had to use her telekinesis to wrap his body in a psi-bubble just to hold him together until they could get him home. They'd lost him a couple times enroute and she had worked frantically to bring him back. The extent of the injuries to his body were unimaginable and his healing factor had been depleted within moments of the attack.

When Charles had realized what Magnus was preparing to do, as he watched Logan’s body jolt with the slight magnetic tugs, he begged Magneto - ‘For the love of God, don’t do this, Eric.’ - but Magneto was hell-bent on teaching them all a lesson, especially Wolverine. The slight tugs became forceful pulls and Logan was lifted off the ground and suspended in the air above them. His back arched and he screamed... and he kept screaming until Magnus had finished his repulsive task and threw Wolverine's lifeless body to the floor.

She'd often thought that day, through her own tears, that maybe it would’ve been a more loving gesture to let him die. Instead, she chose to make him live through the ordeal. He was their friend - and a valued member of the team - and in the years since then he'd made a huge difference in their lives; not only as an X-Man, but in their personal lives as well.

Taking off her glasses Jean leaned back in the chair, trying to cleanse her mind of the memories of that horrible day. She glanced around the room and noticed a bloodied instrument tray that had been pushed against a wall now standing there forgotten. She pursed her lips together, then let out a sigh. She put her glasses down on top of the folder and stood up.

She donned a pair of rubber gloves and began collecting and discarding bandages and dressings that were saturated with now-dried blood. She scooped up the instruments and dropped them into a bucket of soapy water to let them soak and then something caught her eye. She looked back into the bucket and saw a small silver chain swirling around in the reddening water. Carefully, she reached a gloved hand into the bucket being careful not to cut herself on the blood encrusted scalpel she'd just placed in there. Jean grabbed the chain between her middle and index fingers and slowly withdrew her hand from the bucket.

Jean held it up in front of her face. The silver tags hanging from the chain bore one engraved word - ‘Wolverine’ - and below that was a set of numbers. She lowered the chain into her hand, the tags reflecting the overhead lights. She thought about how important Logan had become to her - to all of them - and how desperately they'd all fought to save him last night. Then she realized how important these tags were to the man that owned them and how desperately he would fight to keep them. Jean closed her hand, wrapping her fingers around them as she'd often seen him do. She walked over to where he lay and, stepping through the curtain, she saw Ororo open her eyes.

"Sorry. Go back to sleep," Jean whispered as Ororo sat up.

"I’ve been up for a while. I keep dreaming," Ororo replied, brushing her hair back with her hand. She shifted around toward the edge of the bed to let her feet hang down and noticed that Jean was clutching something in her hand. "What do you have there?" she inquired softly. Jean opened her fingers and brought it closer for her to see. Ororo blinked at the shiny tags, then raised her eyes to Jean’s. A moment later Ororo turned to look at Logan. "I didn’t realize he didn’t have them on," she whispered. "I just returned them to him the other day."

"I know," Jean replied.

"Do you remember the first time the three of us were alone in this room?" Storm asked softly with the memory.

"How could I forget?" Jean answered, then she held them out to Ororo and placed them in her hand. After a moment’s pause Jean went back to her files. Ororo sat quietly for some time on the edge of the bed staring at the silver chain.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


It was just after seven a.m. when Dr. McCoy and Professor Xavier entered the infirmary. They weren’t entirely surprised to see that most of the X-Men were already there. After they'd all gotten some rest and some breakfast, they had come straight here to check on their teammate’s progress. Bobby and Kurt were sitting on the bed that Ororo'd made use of the night before. They quietly exchanged greetings with Hank and the professor before falling silent again. Ororo was sitting in the chair beside Logan’s bed and she offered Charles a sad, tired smile. He steered his wheelchair around the bed and brought it up alongside her to take her hand.

"Ororo, I can see you didn’t get much rest. How are you doing?" he asked. His voice was always soothing and made you believe that, no matter how you answered, he could empathize with you. She squeezed his hand with a small smile.

"I am fine, Charles," she assured him then looked back to Logan, as did Charles. He looked so peaceful and relaxed, the expression foreign to his features.

"How is he doing, Jean?" Charles asked, trying to hide the worry in his own voice. Dr. Grey was standing near the monitor to the left of Logan’s head, but now she moved to give Hank room to get in, shaking her head as she stepped aside.

"No change, Professor. I thought his fever would break during the night, but it didn’t. It’s up to 103.4."

"What was it last night?" Hank asked as he gently opened one of Logan’s eyelids. His eyes were rolled back in his head and Hank placed his hand on Logan’s forehead as Jean referred to his chart.

"101.6," she replied.

"Has he shaken off the sedative yet?"

"No, he’s still under," Jean reported and Hank’s forehead creased as he thought to himself, ‘That shouldn’t be.’

"Have you checked the wound lately?" he asked as Jean handed him Logan’s chart.

"Changed the dressing about an hour ago," she nodded.

"Any sign of infection?"

"None," Jean replied and Hank glanced at the clock on the wall. It'd been nearly five hours since he gave Logan the sedative.

"He should’ve started coming around by now." He rubbed his chin, totally perplexed, then raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "We’re missing something."

"I wish he could tell us what," Jean replied. Bobby slid off the bed and came over to stand between her and Hank and Kurt followed him.

"Well, can’t you give him something to bring him around?" Bobby asked, trying to be helpful.

"Ja," Kurt added, "You gave him something to put him to sleep. Can’t you give him something to wake him up?" Jean and Hank looked at each other as everyone looked to them.

"What do you think?" she asked him. Hank studied Logan’s chart and after a few moments of serious contemplation he finally answered.

"I want a blood sample taken first. If his white count is up or down I want to know that first before we do anything else." He looked at Jean over the rim of his glasses to make sure she understood. She nodded.

"Okay, everybody out of the way. Give me a minute," she waved her hands at them, gesturing for them to move away from the bed. They all moved to the center of the room as Jean drew Logan’s blood and Hank waited patiently. The two doctors conferred quietly on different tests they could perform. Something was hindering Logan’s recovery and they needed to find out what it was.

The door slid open and Remy and Rogue entered. Ororo and Rogue greeted each other with a hug and Rogue asked about Logan’s condition. They told her what they knew, then she moved toward the bed where Logan still lay motionless and Remy followed her. The door to the infirmary opened again and Warren entered the room receiving glares from Bobby and Kurt. He marched straight toward the unconscious man... or tried to. Bobby stepped in front of him, cutting him off in mid-stride.

"Where do you think you’re going, Wings?" Bobby asked in a threatening tone, purposely referring to Angel in the same manner that Logan would have.

"I've come to check on Wolverine," Warren informed him, unruffled.

"What’s your interest? He ain’t dead yet."

"Robert!" Ororo scolded, his comment frightening her.

"Get out of my way, Ice Cube," Angel warned, pushing his finger into Drake’s chest, refusing to step around Iceman. He’d be more than happy at this point to go through him instead.

"Stop this!" The professor’s stern voice carried through the infirmary as the two men tried to stare each other down. He had a strong voice and it projected well, even without having to shout. "This is not the time or the place for this. Robert, let Warren through," he instructed. The Iceman and the Angel stared at each other for a moment then Iceman reluctantly obeyed.

"Whatever you say, Professor," he replied through clenched teeth, then stepped aside. Their eyes stayed locked on one another until Warren passed by.

As he approached the bed Warren frowned. He was sure Logan’s recuperative abilities would've returned by now and hoped to find him cranky and obstinate and giving Hank a hard time about getting out of bed.

"He’s not awake?" he asked.

"No. We’re trying to figure out why that is as we speak," Hank informed him.

"He took some pretty heavy hits, Hank. Maybe he just needs a little help," Rogue offered. Hank looked at her blankly, thinking ‘Obviously he needs a little help.’

"We need to know what’s wrong before we can hope to help him," he replied.

"Can’t we ask him? I mean, the prof could…"

"Hank!" Jean’s voice rang out from the other side of the lab cutting Rogue off in mid-sentence. "His white cell count is way up! It’s off the charts... but there’s no sign of infection. So what are they gearing up for?" Hank shook his head slowly. ‘Doesn’t make sense,’ he thought to himself, then he leaned down close to Logan’s face, looking at him closely.

"Logan," he whispered, "tell me what’s going on." Just then Kurt appeared next to the bed with an idea.

"Rogue could tell us," he said and Rogue looked at him like he was nuts while everyone else looked at him curiously. "Right?" he asked her and Rogue’s mouth dropped open, shocked by what he was suggesting. "Right?" he repeated excitedly. "He doesn’t need to be conscious for that, does he? She can pick up what he’s feeling and tell us. Right?"

"Kurt, I don’t think…" Rogue started to argue the point. Logan was already weak and to sap anymore of his strength would not be a good idea.

"No, you can do it. Ve are stumped here. Logan’s getting worse and ve don’t know how to help him. Please, Rogue," Nightcrawler pleaded and she looked around the room at every worried face. ‘Okay, no pressure there.’ Hoping for a little advice she turned to Charles.

"Professor?"

"I’m afraid this is a decision only you can make, Rogue. You are the one who will experience what Logan is going through. His pains, his thoughts, his memories… will all be yours. Whichever way you choose though we will support your decision, no matter what."

That wasn’t exactly what she was hoping to hear, she wanted him to tell her what to do. Everyone was anxiously awaiting her decision and Rogue looked toward the floor thoughtfully, she really needed to think this through. She knew Logan would want her to fight ‘til the end. "As long as I’m livin’, I’m fightin’," he'd always told them and she was sure that, however he was able, he was fighting even now - holding on as best he could - waiting for them to assist him. She turned to Remy. "If I do this, make sure I don’t keep contact with him for more than a second or two. Okay?" she asked shakily. Remy rubbed her arm and nodded, showing his support... but she still wanted a medically sound reason why she should or shouldn’t consider doing this. "Hank?"

"Well… there is always uncertainty, Rogue," he said, removing his glasses. "Perhaps if you don’t absorb too much of his strength…" Hank paused, then let out a heavy sigh. "I don’t know. It may be the only chance we have before it’s too late."

"What if… something happens? What if…"

"His system is already in shock, Rogue," Hank informed her. "His core temperature keeps rising. A few more degrees and he’ll begin to experience fever convulsions. One small touch? I really don’t think you could cause him anymore harm," he told her as honestly as he could, but Rogue wasn’t so sure. "On the plus side," Hank continued "you could help us save his life." Replacing his glasses, he looked her in the eye.

Rogue contemplated what Hank said, then she looked at Logan. His lifeless face beneath the oxygen mask looked way too familiar. It reminded her of the time when she and Wolverine, along with the Scarlet Witch, had been abducted by The Leader and forced to undergo torturous medical experiments that focused on studying their mutant powers. She'd been forced to touch Logan, stealing his powers and his memories and he hadn’t blamed her, he knew she’d had no choice. It had been her touch that sent him into a coma then. Could that same touch save him now from a more permanent state of unconsciousness? ‘What would he ask me to do?’ she asked herself. ‘Would he want me to do this?’

When Rogue first came to the institute she was terrified of him. Her relationship with Wolverine at the beginning was tumultuous at best. Anytime she came anywhere near him his hair would stand on end; it always did when he felt threatened. It was a totally instinctual response that all animals can do, he didn’t do it with a conscious awareness, but it terrified her. Then he would growl a menacing threat and pop his claws in front of her face to emphasize the seriousness of his warning, ‘Stay away from me.’
It'd taken a long time for her to earn Logan's trust and she learned over the years that it had been her ability to leech whatever memories he could still cling to that had made him feel threatened... more than the thought of losing his powers. She stared at him deep in her own thoughts and asked him silently, ‘How much do you trust me now, Logan?"

"He trusts you completely, Rogue," Jean answered. She knew that Rogue’s biggest fear was losing Logan’s trust again and, using her telepathy to monitor Rogue’s thoughts, she waited for her to ask the one question that haunted her the most. Rogue turned to her, surprised to hear an answer to her unasked question.

"Jean…" that was all Rogue could say as a tear rolled down her cheek.

"He trusts you, Rogue," Jean told her with confidence. "He has for a long time now. He considers you his friend." Rogue looked down at Logan and the tears streamed down her face. ‘His friend’… not just 'a teammate'. God, what she wouldn’t give to hear that from him right now.

"What if something goes wrong?" she sniffled, wiping away her tears. Storm came around to stand beside her and took Rogue by the hand.

"Logan would never find fault in anything you would attempt in his best interest -succeed or fail - as long as you truly believe your intentions are honorable." Rogue thought about that for a moment and realized that it was true. She nodded and took a deep breath wiping away the rest of her tears with the back of her hand.

"Okay," she said, looking around the room at each of her teammates. With one nod, she announced her decision, "Let’s do it." Everyone came to attention and those standing farther away came closer. "Remy?" she checked without turning around.

"Remy got ye', Chere," he promised her.

Rogue slowly removed the glove from her left hand and felt the cool air of the sterile room against her skin. She put her hand on the cold bed rail and, stepping up close to the bed, she watched him. Except for the slight rise and fall of his chest he was lifeless. Something sinister was draining the life from him and it was now up to her to try to find out what it was. ‘I can do this,’ she told herself, then reached out with one bared hand.
When her hand made contact with Logan’s arm, she gasped softly just at the simple sensation of physical contact with his skin. He was hot and she flushed with excitement; to feel the flesh of another against her own was a pleasure she had to be denied by nature and her heart skipped a beat as she delighted in the sensation. Her delight lasted only a brief second however, before she began to absorb what was left of Logan’s lifeforce.

"Uhn," was the only sound forced from Rogue as her body stiffened and her head snapped backward. Her body felt as though it was on fire as pain raced through her bones and her entire body ached. She made a disgusted face as her mouth suddenly filled with a strong metallic taste. "Uhnggh..," Rogue groaned against the pain, then she gasped loudly and her eyes shot open in terror as she began to assimilate Wolverine’s memories. The images of the lab that she had seen before enveloped her. His pain and his terror were now hers and she let out a noise that sounded like a sob; she could feel his hopelessness and despair and the mind-numbing loneliness of his years of isolation.
Rogue began to sob uncontrollably as she absorbed Logan's inner turmoil. She tried to control it - tried to quiet his confusion amidst all the chaos - but it overwhelmed her. It took her over and it wasn’t his anymore... it was hers. It was happening to her. ‘How does he control this?? How does he deal with this?? Where does that strength come from?’ The mental anguish was one thing, but the pain…. she screamed. Everyone in the infirmary jumped in surprise and then came another blood curdling scream.

"What’s happening?" Bobby asked.

"She’s absorbing his core structure," Hank stated, fascinated.

"What the hell does that mean?"

"Everything that is Logan... is now Rogue."

"It sounds like she’s in incredible pain," Jean said, more than a little worried.

"Well, pain is Logan’s essence, isn't it? It is the foundation for who he is. It is all he knows."

Another blast of pain pulled her deeper into the memory. ‘God!! It burns!’ her mind screamed and she began to convulse; her muscles twisting against the pain and then there were people jumping on her. They pinned her harshly to the bottom of the tank and it was God-awful frightening. They did nothing at all to comfort her, they did nothing to ease his pain and she was terrified. Rogue had always thought she knew what fear was, but this was unfathomable... this was heart-stopping horror.

On the bed Logan’s body stiffened as his muscles contracted forcefully. The monitors immediately began to beep a shrilling alarm as his arms and legs seized and shook with convulsions. Everyone tensed looking between him and Rogue as Hank consulted the shrieking monitors. "He’s tachycardic! His heart rate is off the scale. That’s enough, Rogue!" Hank shouted above the noise and Remy grabbed her arm, pulling her hand away. She reflexively reached for Logan again, not wanting to leave him alone in there - in that dark and ugly place - but she collapsed in Remy’s arms.

Logan’s body went limp and Hank watched the monitor closely as it registered his heart rate; it dropped significantly from the rapid fibrillation Rogue’s touch had caused to a very slow but steady beat. When he was satisfied that it had stabilized McCoy spun around and crouched down next to Rogue as Remy cradled her in his arms."Rogue?" Hank said, trying to get a response.

"Mmmm," she crinkled her nose in disgust and licked her lips. "Dizzy," she mumbled.

"Dizzy? You feel dizzy?" Hank asked, trying to get clarification.

"Mmm," she nodded weakly. "Hot. Burning."

"That’s the fever," Hank assured her.

"Nnn…no. Burning… taste… metal… taste…" Rogue mumbled, then swallowed with an expression of disgust.

"You taste metal? Burning metal?" Hank asked, trying desperately to understand.

"Metal taste… burning… blood… poison metal… help… me."

"Rogue?" Remy shook her then turned pleading eyes to Hank. "Help her!"

"We’re trying!" Hank replied sharply. Then Rogue gasped and suddenly sat up straight - alert and frantic; she understood and clutched onto Remy’s arm, shouting urgently.

"He’s being poisoned! The adamantium!" she yelled out and Hank’s eyes widened in fear and shock. He understood now too and cursed himself for not realizing it sooner, he should’ve known. He should've guessed. He stood up quickly and stepped over Rogue. Pushing past Bobby and Kurt he moved quickly to the refrigerator. The team heard the sounds of bottles being clanked together as McCoy moved them aside searching frantically through the shelves for… something. Hank was mumbling, cursing himself under his breath until he found what he was looking for. He moved away from the refrigeration unit holding a box in his hands, glancing at the clock as he set it down on the counter. The box had three words printed on the side - two were stamped in red, ‘Keep Refrigerated’ – the other was penned in black ink in Hank’s own handwriting, ‘Logan’.

"Hank?" Jean took a step forward, curious as to what he was doing.

"How long?" Hank asked in return.

"How long?" Jean echoed, not understanding the question. Hank opened a drawer and removed a syringe sealed in plastic. He ripped it open with his teeth and spit out the small piece of plastic.

"How long has it been since his healing factor ceased its accelerated capabilities?"

"Uhmmm," Jean looked at the clock, mentally calculating. "Uhmm… I don’t know… about fifteen hours," she shrugged and looked to the others for corroboration. Some of them nodded as her guess was as good as theirs. "Why?" Jean asked.

Hank didn't answer as he concentrated on taking a small vial from the box and turned it upside down. He stuck the syringe through the bottle’s sealed top and drew back the plunger. The syringe filled with the bottle’s liquid contents.

"Hank, what’s going on?" Scott asked, this time demanding an answer.

Without a word Hank came back to Logan’s side. He lifted the syringe to eye level and tapped it with his finger to shake loose any air bubbles in the liquid. When the bubbles floated to the top he depressed the plunger until all the air was dispelled and the liquid spurt from the needle. Then he stuck it into the port on the I.V., sending the medicine into Logan’s body with frantic hope that his incompetence would not cost their teammate his life.




TBC in Acts of Vengeance, part 5





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