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New Orleans


Rogue headed south. The direction in which Gambit had disappeared. He couldn’t have gotten too far, he would need a mode of transportation. Ah-ha! Semi hidden in the brush, a black jeep sat at the end of the dirt road, doors open. He was leaning into the driver’s seat, Mystique’s two burly companions laying behind him in a heap. Her voice stopped him in his tracks.
“Ain’t gonna happen, Shugah.” Gambit looked up and found Rogue standing over him, her mouth compressed in anger. He stood slowly.
“Anna…”
“Don’t. Don’t!” Her eyes misted and she hated herself for her foolish desire to hear him say her given name, to hear him beg for her forgiveness, for him to tell her it was all a mistake, that he never intended on leaving her.
“Rogue listen t’ me. I never meant --”
Rogue caught him under the chin with her bare hand, lifting him off his feet. “Ah--said--DON”T!” As Remy’s powers and emotions poured into her, Rogue felt her body shifting, morphing uncontrollably. She let him drop with a strangled cry.
“Rogue.” With what appeared to be a rippling of flesh, Gambit transformed and Mystique stood before her, yellow eyes glowing in the moonlight. “As much as I’d enjoy catching up with you, Rogue, Mama’s got to catch your runaway lover.”
Rogue was trying to regain her composure, her body still shifting from one shape to another. “Why?” Rogue panted, demanding. “What did ya offer him, Raven, that was worth him betrayin’ the X-Men?”
Mystique smiled a small knowing smile. “C’mon, Anna. What you really want to know is, what was worth his betraying you.” Mystique slid into the driver’s seat of the jeep as she spoke. “And I’m afraid I can’t answer that for you, sweety. Wish I could.” The engine revved to life. Rogue reached under the jeep’s bumper, lifting the front tires clear off the ground.
“Goin‘ somewhere?” She stood with one hand on her hip.
Mystique rolled her eyes. “Rogue, honestly. I do believe you have other concerns now, don’t you. A fallen Windrider?” Her tone was smug. Rogue knew she was right, there were more important things to take care of. She’d deal with Mystique…and Gambit, later.
“Wolverine’s gunning for ya.“ Rogue said softly, dropping the Jeep’s front-end with a thump. “Ah‘d run and stay runnin’ if Ah was you.” With those parting remarks she headed back to the clearing where her fellow X-Men were huddled around their fallen leader. Rogue felt her throat tighten as she stared at her friend’s unmoving form. Storm had always radiated life and to see her laying so still, her skin ashen, crimson stains covering most of her body was upsetting at the very least.
“Well, yer the goddamn fearless leader. Do something’!” She heard, approaching her teammates.
“How is she?” She asked, landing besides Cyclops. He shook his head, expression grim.
“We need to evac, now.” Jean was saying, her tone disciplined, her motions methodical. She placed both hands over the wound on Storm’s chest, adding as much pressure as she dared, feeling the give beneath her palms indicating broken-if not shattered- ribs. “Scott, you and Rogue get me the stretcher and medical supplies from the Blackbird. Logan, slice off Storm’s garments. I need a better look at what I’m working with.”
He released one of his long, razor sharp claws, and with a gentleness few knew he possessed Wolverine slit open Storm’s top, baring her chest and stomach for Jean’s appraisal. “Oh, My God!” Came Jean’s horrified gasp. Under the blood stained green cotton top Ororo’s stomach and ribs were quickly tuning a dark, ugly purple. But that wasn’t what caused Jean’s dismay. The wound over Ororo’s heart was open and gaping, excreting blood at an alarming level. “It looks like he tried to tear her heart right out of her chest.” Jean’s voice wavered. She took a deep steadying breath. “Logan, you have to stop that. My mind can only handle so much raw emotion at one time.”
Wolverine did not respond. He simply stared at Ororo’s chest, unable to think past his fury, enraged by the marks left by Sabertooth. “Logan!” His head snapped up.
“What?” he growled. She said nothing, instead reaching for his hand and placing it over the wound.
“Hold here. Put as much pressure as we’re applying now. We have to stop the hemorrhaging.” *Scott!*
“Here.” He and Rogue appeared a moment later. He laid the stretcher beside Storm. He felt utterly helpless, watching as Jean took the supplies out of Rogue’s hand and began creating a compress. He clenched his jaw. He was their leader, dammit. It was time he did something! “Jean, keep me informed. I’m going to patch the Bird. Rogue, with me.” His voice was authoritative, tone decisive.
*That’s the Scott I know and love,* Jean sent to him. She reached under Storm’s shoulders, wrapping the compress and Storm’s upper torso in heavy gauze. “Here we go.” She indicated to Wolverine that he take the opposite side of Storm’s body. “Storm, if you can hear me we’re going to move you now. Try and stay with us, okay.” She locked eyes with Logan. “On three. One. Two. Three.” They lifted and moved as one, placing Storm on the stretcher. No response from Ororo. Jean looked at Wolverine, unable to disguise her fear.
“’Ro, ya gotta stay strong. Ya hear me? Yer goin’ t’ pull through this.“ Wolverine’s voice was graveled and firm. Unconsciously Ororo turned her head, seeking him out. His fingers brushed her forehead. “I ain’t gonna lose ya now.”
Jean felt her heart go out to him. He was well and truly in love, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. Logan had never once looked at her the way he was looking at Storm, not in all the times he professed his undying love for her, not when giving her suggestive innuendos, not even during the moments she had given in to her attraction. No, he had never looked at any woman the way he looked at Ororo.
Once Storm was secured they lifted her in one fluid motion, and started towards the Blackbird. On their way Wolverine caught Gambit’s scent and had to forcibly deny his primal urge to hunt and kill. ‘Ro was the most important thing. The only one who mattered. As they approached the Bird, they could make out the sound of Cyclop’s optic blasts echoing through the swamp. Rogue was holding a piece of steel against the jet and Cyke was doing a free “hand” weld.
“That gonna hold?” Rogue asked.
“It’s going to have to.” Scott responded. “We need to get Storm back to the Institute now!” He looked at Jean and Wolverine. “How’s she holding up?”
“Breathing faint, unsteady. Pulse-thready. BP unreadable.” Jean rattled off the information, before mentally instructing Rogue to lift their friend into he plane. She ran a saline IV into Storm’s arm and attached an EKG monitor to her chest. “We’ll need a splint,” she called. “It appears this arm is broken.”
Wolverine didn’t know how much more he could take. His claws slid in and out of his hands in rhythmic frustration. He handed Jean one of Forge’s stasis splints, a nifty little invention from the mutant ‘Maker’. It would keep Ororo’s arm straight and safe, preventing infection and speeding up healing.
“Strap in people!” Scott commanded, the Blackbird engines letting out a whine as they sprung to life.
*Professor!*
*I’m here, Jean.*
*Have Hank and Warren meet us in Medical!*
*Is it as we feared?*
*Worse.* Jean sent Xavier mental pictures and information.
*We’ll be ready.*
The plane was shaking, lifting slowly off the ground. A red light began flashing overhead.
“I can’t get a large enough updraft to clear the trees,” Scott said, pushing buttons and pulling levers.
“Allow…me…” All eyes flew to the woman laying on the stretcher. Her own eyes, barely open, glowed soft white in the cabin. Immediately responding to the summons of their mistress, strong currents of air pushed the Blackbird off the ground and sent it soaring through into the sky.
Wolverine felt his gut clench, Rogue and Jean exchanged hopeful glances. Jean’s hopeful expression quickly faded as Ororo’s eyes slid shut once again and the heart monitor began beeping incessantly, followed by the terrible drone of a flatline.
“Defib, now!” Jean pulled the defibrillator from the overhead compartment with a thought. She rubbed the paddles together, saying a soft prayer under her breath. “Clear!” Storm’s body didn’t arch off the stretcher, the machine seemingly having no effect on her. “Come on, come on, come on… Clear!” Another jolt, and still no response.
“Why isn’t it workin’?“ Wolverine demanded angrily.
“Storm conducts electricity through her body on a regular basis, tens of thousands times greater than this.“ Jean threw the paddles to the floor, pressing her mouth to Ororo’s and breathing for her. “Breathe…” Nothing. Again. No response.
The part of Jean that was a doctor knew that very few people survived serious traumatic injuries, and that the trauma Ororo suffered was an almost 100 percent fatal injury, because massive hemorrhaging had already caused her blood pressure to drop, her heart to stop beating and her brain was slowly going to die. But the part of Jean that was friend and X-Man refused to give up. Ororo was the strongest woman she knew. A fighter since childhood.
“Rogue, open the side panel below the medical cabinet. There should be a large silver case, inside is a blue and silver container and tubing. Bring them to me. Logan, CPR!”
*Jean. What’re you doing? Forge said those were experimental.* Scott’s voice was a sanctuary to her turbulent mind.
*I need to isolate the heart and the brain and perfuse it with an oxygenating solution. If I don’t she has no chance.*
*Do what you must. Be careful, I think Wolverine’s about to lose it.*
Wolverine was bent over Ororo, his mouth covering hers, breathing into her lungs, pumping her chest. “’Ro, you can’t do this to us. We need ya, darlin’.”
Rogue set the container and tubing on the medical stand beside Jean. Her features showing the worry they all felt. Jean swabbed Storm’s chest with alcohol and iodine, before selecting a scalpel and slicing a small incision around the jagged wound Sabertooth had created. She pushed the blunt end of the silver tubing through the hole, attaching the other to the liquid blue container. With a gurgle the container began pumping its essence into Storm.
Ororo’s body arched high off the table, a spasm tightening her muscles from head to toe. “Hold her!” Jean commanded. Logan pressed himself over Storm, wishing he had gutted Sabertooth and Gambit with a furious vengeance.
………
“Coming in hot!” Cyclops warned as they approached the Xavier Institute.
“Let’s see what Ah can do ‘bout that.” Rogue opened the sliding door, flying in front of the Blackbird. She turned, facing it head on, grabbing the nose forcing it to slow. Cyclops gave her a thumbs up when they were at a reduced enough velocity he could land safely. With a flurry of movement they got Storm off the plane and headed down the corridor to the Med-lab. Wolverine clutching her hand the entire way.

Med-Lab

Ororo felt herself drifting. Occasionally a bright flash of light and a stab of excruciating pain would interrupt her peaceful drifting and that was real damn annoying. She tried to raise her arms, but couldn’t feel them. Oh, well, no matter. It’s not like she needed them to drift around in this place of warmth and clouds. She felt another spasm of pain, briefly mind-numbing, then she was once again drifting like flotsam on a calm sea. This was nice… Maybe she would stay awhile. It had been so long since she felt at peace, relaxed….Mmmm…yes, she could stay here for---
“’Ro, ya hear me! Don’t ya dare fuckin’ give up!”
Hmmm… that voice. Angry. Hurting. Hurting her… No she would stay here, nice and safe. Float some more, drifting along….
Pain! Pain! Pain!

“She’s fading.” Hank McCoy said, his soft cultured tones clipped with stress. He and Jean had been conducting reconstructive surgery on Storm’s mangled heart. A process that was intricate as well as tiring. The damage had been extensive, and that was only their main concern. Storm had several broken bones and severe internal injuries on top of her ravaged heart. It was a miracle that she had survived this long. His collegues did not respond to his obvious statement, just continued working. It was unspoken that they were not going to give up, that this was one fight they refused to relinquish. Hank squared his jaw, “Scalpel.”

Ohhh… that’s better. No more pain. Ororo felt her body warming, a melting feeling seeping in. Nice…
“Ororo.” Warm, loving, safe. She felt soft hands touch her face, blue eyes the color of the afternoon sky looking down at her, snow hair flowing endlessly.
“Mom…”





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