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Don’t leave me yet, ‘Ro…

It beat like a tattoo, roaring in his ears once they were in the infirmary.

He felt a growl escape, rumbling guttural and deep from the core of his being when he felt Henry’s hands gently tugging him away from the cot.

“Please give me room,” he ordered curtly, nodding to Anna Marie and Forge to move back. “Don’t crowd her; the best way for you to help her right now is to let me do my work.” They looked chastened. Marie’s expression crumbled and her shoulders sagged; Forge’s face was stony.

“What can we do?” Marie cried.

“I know it may seem like the last thing she needs,” Henry explained levelly,” but are you still able to access Bobby’s gift?”

“No,” she admitted sadly.

“Let’s see if I can myself,” she heard him rasp from the other side of the curtain. Marie rushed to Bobby’s side and pulled the drape aside, revealing his weak attempt to sit up. The strain showed on his puckish face and gentle blue eyes smiled up at her. “Hey.”

“Bobby…Ah couldn’t stand it if…” Her voice failed her as she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle her sobs.

“I haven’t gone anywhere,” he murmured, reaching for her gloved hand, and she felt the faint press of his lips through the thin knit. “Professor McCoy, what do you need me to do? I want to help.”

“I need you to help me lower Ms. Munroe’s temperature,” he replied. Logan’s head snapped in his direction, and he met his gaze with a mixture of shock and disbelief.

“What the fuck are ya talkin’ about, Furball? She’s blue, goddamit! Her powers didn’t protect her from landing in all that snow! She nearly froze to death!”

“The immediate problem isn’t the cold. It’s the lightning. Ororo may die of cardiac arrest if we don’t keep her temperature low right now. The longer she’s unconscious, the more likely it is that her brain will be starved of oxygen. Her fall into the ice likely saved her life.” He turned back to Bobby. “I’d like you to chill the bedding beneath her now, Mr. Drake.” Bobby’s demeanor changed to one of grave respect at being treated like an adult, and one who could offer much needed assistance.

“I’d be glad to, sir.” He extended his hand, and Logan and Forge felt the chill as a fine mist of ice crystals floated in a tidy stream from his outstretched hand, shining and ethereal as pixie dust. He aimed for Ororo’s bed, and slowly the dry frost enveloped the mattress and sheets.

“I’d like to offer my assistance as well,” a voice in the infirmary doorway informed them, and Erik’s countenance was humble as he swept inside.

“Whaddya think you can do, Mags?” Logan accused. “I think ya’ve helped us enough already, if not by helping ta create the things that attacked her, then definitely by helping ta lead ‘em here.”

“They would’ve found their way here anyway from the signal,” Forge argued. His face was became more flushed with tension, and like Logan, he was searching for a target to take it out on. Logan rose gladly to the bait. SNIKT.

“Then maybe ya need ta get the fuck outta here too, genius,” he sneered. “Maybe Ororo doesn’t need ya in here. I said it before, and I’ll say it again: Ya’ve done enough, asshole!”

“I stayed to help her and help this school, Wolverine, and I’m not budging a goddamned inch!”

“Helping the school,” Logan spat. “That’s what ya call bugging Cerebro, eh? Is that how ya survived war?”

“Don’t talk to me about how I survived!” Forge’s fists were balled up as he leaned over the bedrails. Lorna had just drifted inside, hovering behind Erik and shivering at the sounds of their shouts. “I used what was in here,” Forge informed him, pointing to his temple,” instead of fucking claws and tearing the enemy apart like some animal!” Logan rose from the rolling stool in the corner, his face full of menace. Henry’s furred paw shot out behind him, striking him squarely in the chest before he whipped around to face him. His fangs were bared, his muzzle drawn back in a chilling snarl.

“ENOUGH!” Henry boomed as he readied an oxygen mask. “You’re both here as a privilege, and I won’t hesitate to take that away, do you understand me?” Logan broke their stare first, turning away from piercing cobalt eyes and standing down. He watched guilty as Henry fitted the mask over Ororo’s face, trying to draw comfort from the whistle of precious oxygen sustaining her.

“I’m scared,” Lorna whimpered, and Erik felt her insistent grip as her fingers crept into his. His eyes stung when he saw the innocent pleading and yearning in her blue eyes. Daddy will make it go away… It nearly tumbled from his lips. His throat was clogged when he found his voice.

“Sometimes you have to dig deeper to feel the pulse of the metal,” he explained, and he tugged her forward, leading her around the foot of the bed. “McCoy,” he beckoned. Henry watched him warily, not wanting to be caught unawares again. He bristled, but Erik didn’t move away.

“Don’t make me warn you, too.”

“Then accept my help when it’s offered. Or accept hers.” He gestured to his daughter. “She’s powerful and a work in progress, and you need her.”

“I don’t see how.”

“Like me, she can manipulate metals even when they’re inside a person’s body.” He guided Lorna closer and took her hand, encouraging her to hold Ororo’s. “Including blood minerals.” Henry paused in checking her blood pressure.

“I’ll hold you responsible if you endanger her further, Erik. Not her,” he motioned to Lorna. Lorna was shaking, but at Erik’s gentle touch on her shoulder, she closed her eyes.

“It’s moving so slowly,” she murmured. Her teacher’s hand felt limp and cold, and rubbed it absently, trying to coax circulation back into it as she focused on the components of Ororo’s blood stream.

She could feel the faint beat of her heart and the constriction of blood vessels within her flesh. Her hair drifted up and glowed, floating about her face as she manifested her power. She focused her awareness of the various metals. Zinc. Magnesium. Iron. She heard the brainwaves sending signals to her nervous system; the rhythms were calm and faint. Lorna acquainted herself with the flow of blood through each organ system and orchestrated them where they needed to go. Copper. Phosphorus. Sodium. She accelerated the minerals down their pathways through arteries and ventricles. Chromium. Fluorine. She felt Ororo’s muscles begin to flex and contract, and circulation began to return to her limbs.

“Please,” she whispered. “C’mon, Ms. Munroe, please!” Erik’s hand now steadied her, covering hers.

“Easy does it,” he encouraged. “It’s working.” As if to prove his theory, Ororo’s eyelids twitched. He could feel the fine-tuned concentration and resonance from her, marveling at her efforts. He was proud of her, no matter what the outcome, but he shared the anxiety shrouding the occupants of the lab.

Please, God. Please. Let this work. Logan plowed his fingers through his hair, clutching it as he bowed his head. Forge paced like a restless lion, gripping the ornate pendant on his necklace like a talisman. Marie and Bobby’s hands were joined together so tightly that it hurt.

Ororo felt pain stabbing her, prying her away from the tempting sleep blanketing her. She wasn’t floating anymore, and the warmth and laxness in her limbs gave away to crisp, biting cold. She heard voices, and she felt sorrow and worry pressing in on her. Someone was crying…

A gurgled gasp was heard in the room, the air mask making the sound echo, and Ororo’s eyes drifted open. Things slowly swam into focus. Henry watched incredulously as her eyes roamed slowly about the room, full of questions. They didn’t flit jerkily around the room. Lorna opened her eyes as she felt Ororo’s return her grip with a small squeeze. Tears ran down the girl’s face.

“Ms. Munroe,” she cried.

“Stop,” Erik ordered, his voice low. “Give her a chance to see if she can breathe on her own.” Reluctantly she let go, and Logan wanted to bellow in protest. Emotion choked him as awareness shone in her eyes when he approached the bed. He saw the same hope and anticipation written on Forge’s weary features as he stood beside Henry. This time it was Logan who carelessly shoved them away, not giving a damn.

“Ro,” he croaked. “Stay with us, darlin’, it’s all right!” Beneath the hiss of the oxygen mask, he heard her shallow breaths slowly deepen. Her chest rose and lowered, and he reached for her hand, needing the tangible proof that she was improving. She gently nodded to him, not replying but assuring him that she understood. She leaned into his touch when he stroked her hair, still matted with dirt, blood and melting chips of ice. “It’s all right,” he repeated soothingly. She felt him tremble. Logan never trembled.

“You scared us all out of ten years of life, young lady,” Henry said gruffly, moving around Lorna and Erik to check her vitals. Erik tugged Lorna away, and he urged her to step into his embrace. She sobbed loudly into the crook of his neck.

“You did so well,” he murmured. “Better than anyone could have hoped.”

“It’s all right, Marie,” Bobby crooned. Marie’s face was buried in her hands as she, too, wept, and he awkwardly lowered his bed rail and drew her down to his chest. “Don’t cry,” he begged helplessly, stroking her hair. It was times like these that he regretted not being able to hold her more closely, but she was grateful for the sound of his voice and the support offered by his supine body. She breathed in the scent of his skin and hair, even if she could touch him. The sweet, fleeting kiss that she’d risked before lingered with him, and so did a part of her. It was an even exchange; she retained traces of memories and emotions from anyone whom she absorbed, including his devotion and affection. They were connected in every way but flesh.

Only Henry saw Forge walk out.

He busied himself with caring for Ororo; Marie carefully helped him remove most of her ruined clothing and started to clean her matted hair. Erik and Lorna adjourned upstairs; Henry discreetly called upstairs using the intercom to ask Piotr if he could supervise them closely and get the children settled. Most of his afternoon was spent monitoring Ororo’s condition and cleansing various cuts. She had lacerations on her limbs that looked painfully tender; Logan winced at burns on her hands, shoulders and feet. Her lightning never hurt her before. He’d seen her manipulate it often enough, letting it dance in the palm of her hand.

As if reading his thoughts, Henry explained “That thing used her own lightning against her, feeding it back to her nervous system. It overloaded her with too much energy for her to control or to siphon off. And if I know Ororo, she couldn’t live with herself if she released any of it and accidentally struck any one of us down.”

“So she just sucked it up, and nearly killed herself in the fuckin’ process,” Logan fumed, cradling and stroking her bandaged hand.

“Had…to,” she gasped, effectively cutting off any further argument or tirade between two people she cared about most.

“I hated it when ya did that,” he admitted, but his scowl lacked its usual intensity. She read worry and fear in his eyes, realizing that she’d caused it. His clothes and hair were as desperate as hers, but he wasn’t scarred or injured.

“I’m here.” Henry didn’t stare when Logan clutched her hand against his cheek. He could still smell his anxiousness and frustration, and he read possessiveness in his posture, as well as fierce devotion. He stirred him from his vigil to help him whisk the cool, damp sheets out from under her to change the bedding and settle her more comfortably. Henry patted her foot after trimming and taping down the last bandage strip.

“You can stay with her if you like,” he offered. “I’m moving Bobby upstairs.” Marie eagerly helped him lower Bobby into a wheelchair and they transported him to the elevator. That left the two of them alone.

“I know yer tired,” he muttered hoarsely. “I don’t wanna leave ya.”

“Then…don’t,” she suggested weakly, but her eyes were warm. Color was slowly returning to her cheeks, but her eyes were drowsy.

He didn’t even remember falling asleep. He awoke with a start and nearly dropped her hand; he used his free one to grind the grit from his eyes. She was still resting peacefully, her breathing even and deep. He stood, feeling his legs uncramp painfully as he bent to tenderly kiss her cheek. Her warm scent rose up to greet him with the gesture; her face was placid, beautiful and it disarmed him completely.

“I ain’t finished yet, darlin’. His lips lingered on her skin this time, and he stroked her tangles of thick, soft hair back from her face before he let her go. Duty called; he had to check on the kids.


~0~

Piotr was at a loss for how to explain to the paramedics and local authorities what happened when they arrived on the scene to retrieve the bodies littering the front lawn. Henry followed the appropriate protocols, encouraging them to take the measures needed to identify who the operatives were, and to determine their purpose in attacking a sedate private school with a solid reputation. Henry’s features were calm and carefully arranged, his face one anyone would instantly trust, thanks to his image inducer.

They’d marked it up to terrorist activity, and they informed him that they would monitor the activity of any known cells that targeted institutions such as theirs. Henry was sorely tempted to tell them that just being mutants made them a target for the world at large.

He knew the implants would be confiscated, all but the one that Forge helped him to harvest from the Prime operative in Ororo’s office. The next step involved Forge’s disruptor, now that she was out of danger. Questions and the implications of such a device existing at all nagged him all the way down the hall to Forge’s guest quarters.

He knocked briskly and already had the door open before Forge invited him in. He found him seated on the bed with his back to him, oddly slumped. He heard the sounds of a ragged sob being stifled and cut off, and from behind, he caught him making the motions of swiping a hand over his face.

“She’s all right,” Henry announced. “We need to talk.”

“I know.” He stood and moved to the vanity outside the bathroom door, giving the cold water tap a vicious twist before splashing his face and the back of his neck. He scrubbed his skin dry with a plain white hand towel before facing him. His face was sober and resigned. Henry didn’t offer him any comfort, and he didn’t expect any.

“Tell me everything about the disruptor, including when and why you created it.”

“Let’s go downstairs.” His manner was all business as he poured them coffee and led Henry into the study, bypassing the children milling around in the hall.


~0~

“This time was different than the last, sir.”

“Explain yourself,” Gyrich barked.

“This time the Prime unit didn’t just drop off the grid. The signal was interrupted completely for about ten seconds. It wasn’t just the implants that were compromised. That only happens when the nannites stop communicating with the host’s nervous system, and with our mainframe.”

“In English,” Gyrich suggested sourly, out of patience as he retrieved his black coffee and took a hearty gulp.

“If they can’t communicate with us, we can’t communicate with them,” he replied curtly. “We couldn’t use these implants on baseline humans because the adamantium was toxic. Mutants have stronger regenerative abilities, and most of the hosts we chose demonstrated healing abilities like the Wolverine’s. So when the hosts are compromised, particularly if they lose their powers and so-called ‘healing factor,’ they treat the implants like foreign bodies and try to expel it to preserve themselves. More importantly, the hosts override their program and shut out the signal. We lose the ability to control them, even if the hosts survive.” Gyrich’s motions stilled; his coffee cup rattled against its saucer.

“Tell me something,” Gyrich mused. “CAN we lose control of the Prime units?”

“If they find a way to do what they did when they took down unit 7-alpha-1, then yes,” he answered, identifying the operative by his serial number. “Each time one of the operatives dropped off the grid, their directive programming ceased to run. We never ran any trials with units that were compromised. The candidates either survived the implanting process, or they didn’t. We only tested how well they performed in the field. We never ran through any scenarios where they didn’t.” Gyrich’s face flushed as red as his hair.

“They regain free will?”

“Again, sir, if they survive, then yes. There’s one last caveat to consider regarding the directive programming and the loss of the signal, if it happens again.” Gyrich’s hand flew up, ceasing any further explanation.

“Someone else can program the Prime units with new directive?” The technician swallowed convulsively, not wanting to meet his eyes. “ANSWER ME!” Gyrich’s fist banged down on the counter, making him cringe.

“Yes, sir, they can.”


~0~

“So there’s nothing else you aren’t telling us?”

“I swear on my uncle Naze’s grave.”

“I don’t need dramatics, Forge, just honesty.”

“This was the only other project that the Security Council expressed an interest in. It was further supported by Kavita’s clinical trials with mutants who had powers that they didn’t willfully manifest. Mutants like Marie, for instance, who can’t control their mutation without a barrier of some sort between herself and other people. I won’t lie, Blue. The government wanted a means of eliminating the mutant threat as much from hostiles as they did from the ones that couldn’t help the harm they committed, some just by breathing. Several of Kavita’s staff died during those trials. Some of her candidates secreted toxins in their glands. Some emitted radiation or couldn’t even maintain cohesion of their bodies. The potential for airborne contaminants was too high from some of these subjects.”

“I don’t think I like where this is leading.”

“You shouldn’t. Many of these subjects died before we could come up with the prototype. It wasn’t meant to be a ‘cure’ the way the serum was, in that sense.”

“No. This was a quarantine.” Henry ignored his cooling mug of coffee and crossed the study. He opened the liquor cabinet and extracted a bottle of scotch, retrieving two glasses without being asked.

“The disruptor effectively helped many of the subjects and protected the people around them. They have the chance to live normal lives without being a danger to themselves.

“Some of us need our mutations to survive. I’m not just talking about a loss of livelihood or identity. Students like Warren, Bobby or Kitty would nearly lose conveniences associated with that they can do. I can only speak for myself when I say that I would still be the same person without this,” and he gestured to his furry countenance. “You could say the same, Forge. Perhaps you would lose some of your earning potential.” Forge scoffed as he sipped his scotch.

“Kavita expressed similar thoughts in her files before she was killed.”

“She didn’t have the same vested interest that we do in keeping that from happening.” Forge paled.

“How many of your students would be in danger if they lost their mutations?”

“Wolverine.” His voice was flat. He downed the rest of his scotch and poured them both another.





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