Vim Means Life Force; an X-Men FanFiction
Rated M for later chapters!
I Wake Up Alone, With Only Daylight Between Us
Her eyelids stuck together, and when she could finally yank them open silver was all she could see. But it wasn't the silver of her . . . something. She knew there was supposed to be something silver above her, but not like this. It seemed to have patches of light in it, and the silver itself seemed to glow. Reflecting.
Where am I?
Realizing she was lying on a cold metal table, she furrowed her brow and sighed. This was new, unpleasant, and uncomfortable. She wanted to get out of here. This seemed wrong.
But first, find a shirt.
Only a thin sheet of sorts was covering her. A few electrodes were stuck to her head, her neck, and her chest. She lifted her hand up near her neck, yanked some of the sticky cords off her chest and started to move into a sitting position.
Gotta keep moving.
Her right arm brushed her side. Stitches. A rushing wildfire of pain burst through her, making her gasp. Her hands grabbed the edge of the table, and she pulled her arms tighter to keep the sheet from falling, and it made her side sting. After a few deep breaths and a nauseous feeling, a voice broke through the ebbing pain along with the sound of a door shutting. She hadn't heard one open.
"So. You're awake. Are ya alright?" A gruff voice asked.
If he had been here to contain me, injure, or just check up on me, he wouldn't have been so relaxed than I had moved.
A large warm hand was place on her bare back.
"Fine," she groaned. She could hear him sigh.
"Good. You're one of those people who go with it. You got no idea how bad it hurts me when people freak and start yellin'."
"Well, I'm glad my pain is keeping me from doing anything to inconvenience you." The sarcasm in her voice was obvious.
"You may want to lie down. It'll help the pain. Besides, until Jeannie says we can put something on ya without messing these up," he said, apparently gesturing at her side, "I won't be able to concentrate fully on anything." A grin made its way through the words.
She turned her head to glare at the stranger, an "oh, piss off" on her lips, when her breath caught in her throat. The guy was handsome, no doubt about that. He had dark hair, sideburns, a nice five o'clock shadow, and clear hazel eyes. His breath smelled of cigar smoke, clearly because of the cigar he'd just lit. Buff shoulders were covered by a motorcycle jacket overlapping a blue muscle tee. He must've seen her intake of breath, because his grin widened. He walked around to the front of the table, and sauntered over to one of the machines placed around the room. Self-consciously, she pulled the sheet closer and continued removing electrodes from her neck and chest.
"If Jeannie asks about those, I didn't see anything," he broke off. "No, Chuck, just tell Jean she's awake, and to get down here, will ya? I'm talking to her, yeah, she's workin' right. Okay." The man looked over at her. "What's your name?"
She was about to retort, but an unexpected thought hit her. Her eyes widened.
"What?" He questioned, a bit of concern in his voice.
"I. . . I don't remember." She looked down, trying to will the thought to the front of her brain.
"Can't remember? You must've hit your head harder than we thought on the way down. Chuck'll explain. He can probably help you get your memory back." He lifted her chin, and looked into her eyes, just for a second. "In the meanwhile, I'll need something to call you." He grabbed a chair from the corner of the room, and sat down facing her side of the examination table. Taking in the black hair, blue-green eyes, and high cheekbones, he solved his problem; "Zoe. You look like a Zoe."
"Flirting with the patients, Logan?" A woman with short-cropped dark red hair walked in. She smiled at the darker haired girl. In her hands was a piece of white fabric.
"That was one time," Logan said teasingly. She pinked, but her smile brightened just the same.
"I brought something for you to wear that won't affect the stitches. That was a nasty cut you received," the stranger informed her. "I'm Jean."
"Nice to meet you?"
"If only the circumstances weren't so unfortunate. Here we go. Logan either turn around, or leave. You need to get dressed," she said, directing her last sentence at Zoe.
The three quarter sleeved shirt was dark red with a white phoenix print. It would've looked really cool if not for the ripped pattern at the bottom, so honestly, it looked stupid. It was helpful though because on either side was a strip of loose screening, that covered but did not affect the stitches. It was ridiculous, but admittedly very comfy.
"Hey, Zoe. You okay?"
"Logan, I'm good."
"You don't sound good."
"Well, it hurts a bit. Can we please stop talking while I'm half-naked, it's weird. I don't even know you." She could almost hear Logan thinking 'But Jeannie gets to'.
"Jean doesn't have a dick."
"I'm sorry?" The man's voice was confused beyond belief.
"That's why you can't turn around. I could practically taste you thinking it." The man laughed.
"I'm gonna like you." He said, and some of his tension eased. Not that Zoe saw anything.
After a few seconds of silence, Jean quietly started speaking again.
"You have to be a bit patient with Logan," the doctor advised. "After all, he was the one who found you, lying on the ground, in the pronate position*, bleeding. I don't know the whole story, just that you had a massive concussion, apparent amnesia, severe internal bleeding, three cracked, four broken ribs, this cut on your side, and a whole slew of other afflictions. The list goes on. Logan's just worried about you." The redhead whispered.
"Really?"
"Of course. He's been in here for the past three weeks, waiting for you to wake up. Charles, "Chuck," had to force him to leave to get food three days in." Jean confided.
"Three days." Zoe glanced at the man who had his back to her, fidgeting uncontrollably.
"Can I turn around now?" Logan sounded anxious.
Don't forget about my hearing, Jeannie. I don't like hearing you talk about me behind my back.
Unless it's all good things. I was just alerting her to her condition.
"If you want to. Normally, I would just be upset that the electrodes came off before I got here, but now I'm just glad you're okay."
What do you think? Healing factor?
How else do ya explain it? Four broken ribs, right? Jagged edges, everything? I've seen the X-Rays, they're barely fractured now.
"What's your name, sweetie?"
"I guess its Zoe," she semi-teased, throwing Logan a smile. Jean paused, a slightly blank look on her face.
"Jean?"
"Oh, I see." What? The man -Logan- must've caught her confusion because he launched into an explanation with a surprising amount of enthusiasm for someone so seemingly the "strong-silent type".
"I'm guessin', that you're a mutant." Logan paused, waiting for confirmation. "It's okay, we won't judge ya. Don't worry about it."
After a quick hesitant nod of her head, he continued. "Well, we are too. Everyone here is."
"Really?! You're..." She thought for a second, "Where is here?"
Jean answered, "The Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters. A mainly K-12 school built especially for children with abilities like we have. Along with history and mathematics, you learn mutant/human relations, and how to control your powers."
The two mutants gave her a moment to sink in.
"I've never heard of it before."
"We take special precaution to make sure you don't. Not all the parents of kids here are mutant friendly, if you can understand that." Zoe had a feeling she knew exactly what they were talking about.
"So, if you're both mutants, what can you do?" An unbiased curiosity shone through her eyes unveiling innocence and happiness at being free without having to hide.
"I am a . . . telepathic telekinetic." Jean's breathy laugh was joined by an almost giggle from Zoe. "Let me show you." She jerked the chair out from under Logan's butt, and he hit the floor. Hard. Zoe laughed loudly as Jean levitated the chair at around eye-level and guided it under her own butt. The girl then groaned as the pain came back through the laugh.
"I could have so much fun with that," she breathed. Logan grinned as he stood, and rubbed his ass, shooting a half-hearted scowl at the doctor. "Try not to make me laugh though. It hurts," she added, groaning a bit more. Catching her breath she turned to Logan, "And you?"
Logan raised an eyebrow and made a fist. Metal spikes rapidly protruded from Logan's knuckles; it looked like it hurt.
Zoey blinked in surprise.
I didn't know mutants could do that. Metal?
Charles would explain, but I think he'll leave it to Logan. It's personal. Sorry for the invasion of privacy, I just thought you'd be smart enough to recognize what most don't. Jean's voice echoed a was going to have to get used to that.
After a quick glance at the telepath, she looked up at the man with curiosity and delight in her eyes. "Cool mutation, it's really sweet." She said, smiling happily.
The ex-soldier had no response, an odd sight for Jean. The telepath supposed it was because everyone else had taken Wolverine's ability and, at least to start, had only seen the danger to it, or had been afraid, whereas Zoe had immediately seen the beauty, and for lack of word, creativity.
The woman stood up, resulting in a dizzy spell. Whoa.
Jean moved quickly and was suddenly holding her arm, guiding her to where she wanted to go. Logan. The man's claws started to retract as he grabbed for her other arm.
"No. I'm good. I just want to see them."
"See what?"
"Your claws."
The feral blinked in surprise, but released the blades again anyway.
Slowly moving so as not to make herself nauseated for the third time, Zoe reached out a hand towards Logan and grabbed a hold of his wrist. She carefully moved it so she was staring down the blades. Gingerly she touched the tip of the middle one.
Jean loved how unashamedly curious she was.
Zoe ran the pads of her fingertips down the edge of the left, while innocently scrutinizing the right. Logan probably would've found the situation uncomfortable, if not for two reasons; A) she was tall, probably 5'10 so it wasn't as physically numbing as it would've been otherwise and B) he was too busy being turned on. it was possible he had never seen something so hot in the past 15 years he remembered.
Or all time. That was possible too.
Damn.
Zoey pushed her finger into the blade a bit harder than she intended and hissed. She jerked her hand to her chest and sucked on the tip.
A chorus of Are you alright?s met her ears.
"Yeah, I'm good. Great, really, just cut myself."
She could see Logan's shoulders sink a little, and the adamantium quickly retracted.
"Hey," she told him, looking him in the eyes. "It was my fault. I didn't realize how sharp they are, I pressed too hard. My fault. Okay?"
"Kay."
"Hey, I'm serious, Logan. Don't you dare beat yourself up about this. My fault."
"Okay, okay, no need to get sharp with me."
Crickets.
". . . . . . . . . . . . . . That was terrible. You are terrible."
Jean laughed loudly. "Listening to you two bicker is going to become my favorite pastime." She leaned in to help Zoe walk, "Come on Zoe; let's get you to the Professor."
Walking out of the silver room into a silver hallway, slowly, because she was still dizzy, Zoe asked: "What can he do?"
"Chuck's telepathic too."
"But he's a lot more powerful than I am, telepathically."
"And older." Logan added.
"Could he make Logan believe he's suddenly become a Disney princess?" A grin was forming.
"I like the way you think. And yes, he could."
"Only if he wants to die."
Zoe paused, looking up the silver hallway at the room full of odd leather suits, and anticipated her arrival there.
"I think I'm gonna like it here."
*PRONATE POSITION MEANS ON YOUR BACK
Look for a second chapter, coming soon to theaters.