TRENTON

NEW JERSEY

MERCER COUNTY SURGERY CENTER

JUNE, 1997

The afternoon sunlight streamed in through the blinds, lighting up patches of the room. One particular ray of light shone down upon the boy's head that was resting on the pillow, illuminating his light brown hair, so much so that it looked like an unearthly aura had surrounded him.

The woman stood, her arms folded tight across her chest. She pursed her lips tight, trying desperately not to cry.

He had seen it all before. But that hadn't served to make him more immune to it. He knew that almost every mother - every parent for that matter – would gladly take upon themselves ten times the amount of pain that their own child was enduring if it could only ease their child's suffering. He was certain that he would have done it himself. But that was not the way of the world. That wasn't how things worked; unfair as it was.

'Mrs. Franco, we spoke about this before – how there was a large possibility that things could turn out like this. Sometimes,' he winced as he said this, 'these things are to be expected.'

She turned to face him angrily. 'How can you say this? No one expects to see their son have an epileptic fit in the middle of their soccer game! No one expects to see him crumble down in before he shoots in the goal... Oh God, help me...' She had given up trying to hold back the tears, and had simply let them gush out. She grabbed onto the doctor's arms and sank to her knees.

He bent down to offer her the most comfort he could. 'He's not comatose...far from it, in fact. And I do believe that the double dosage of Vigabatrin we've just given him will see him through.' The doctor swallowed hard as he continued. 'The fact that he's asleep now is a good sign.'

She turned her face up to him, and started brushing the tears away as she stood back up. 'But his usual doctor said that the medication should work. He said that Aidan didn't even have all the major symptoms of the disease. It just doesn't make any sense.' She turned to face the bed her son was in. 'He was getting better too. He hadn't had a fit in over seven months.'

'Mrs. Franco, I'm sorry. To be honest...I don't know what to tell you. Except that I've seen several cases make a turn for the worse. But there is hope in the fact that most of these cases have made it through.'

'Did you contact my husband?'

'Yes, over half an hour ago. I think he mentioned that he'd be late – traffic, you see.'

She wasn't listening. She was staring intently at her son. At first, the doctor thought it was a look of sympathy and pain, but then when he too turned to see, he noticed that the boy's hands had started to twitch.

'Oh God, not again...'she said inaudibly.

They both rushed towards the boy. His mother stood on his left, holding onto his hand and stroking his arm. The doctor stood on his right and pulled out his small flashlight and shone it into the boy's eyes.

'Pupils dilating...he's going under again,' he muttered to himself before shouting, 'Nurse! Somebody get a nurse in here!'

'Is he going to be alright? Tell me, is going to be alright?' her voice was growing more anxious with each passing second.

'Listen to me, you've got to be ready to hold him down. He's going to have another fit.' He spun around and grabbed a metal spoon that was sitting on the untouched dinner tray, and inserted it horizontally into the boy's mouth. 'Hold him down.'

Almost as soon as he had finished talking, the boy's body convulsed and started shaking. His muscles contracted involuntarily, and he grabbed his mother's arm with his left hand while the doctor tried desperately to pin him down with all his strength. The harder he tried, the harder the boy thrashed around moaning slightly as he did so.

'Where's the bloody nurse! I need the nurse in here NOW!' he shouted.

The doctor looked towards his mother briefly – her arm was turning red where the boy was still clutching it, and amidst the pandemonium he saw her lips move, but couldn't discern the first few words.

'-feel funny...' was what he thought she said before he felt his knees give way under him and everything went black.

*       *       *

'Here honey, take a sip of this.' The nurse handed him a Styrofoam cup of cold water and he accepted it gratefully. She stroked his hair and smiled down at him.

'I feel fine actually...can I go home now?' He shifted around in the bed, tired of lying still for so long.

'Yeah,' she seemed reluctant to continue, 'Aidan, your dad's on his way here, and then it look's like you're gonna be driving back home pretty soon.'

'Where's dad?' his eyes perked up.

'Talking to one of the doctors.'

'But I told you – I'm fine.' He sighed in frustration. 'Where's mum then?' he asked.

The nurse didn't answer.

'Where's mum?' he asked, this time with a greater sense of urgency in his voice. He knew something was wrong.

She wanted to tell him, but didn't think that it was her place to. No, it was better to wait until the father got here, she thought. But looking at this beautiful child now, she felt immensely sorry for him. And she reminded herself that if it was her lying there in his stead, she would have wanted to know immediately. She stepped up to his bedside and sat on the edge of the bed.

'Aidan listen, your mom's not well right now. She's very sick. I don't know what made her ill... All I know is that the doctors here are taking very good care of her. They've induced coma to reduce the trauma on her brain. They're doing everything they can to make her better.'

'Coma. That's when people go to sleep for a long time and can't be woken up.' he spoke quietly.

'That's right. But they're not dead.'

'She was fine yesterday... Why is she sick?'

'Well-'

He interrupted her. 'I remember something...I remember mum and this other person,'

'Aidan, I don't think-'

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to connect broken images into something that made sense. '...mum was holding onto me, I think... And then her eyes rolled up, and she fell,'

'It's not-'

'I made her fall! Don't you see! It was me, I made her so sick.'

He shut his eyes tight as the nurse tried to offer some comfort. 'It's not your fault,'

But he wasn't listening. He flung the covers off the bed and got out. He ran towards the jar of water on top of the cabinets and threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a smack and the water fell splashing onto the ground. 'I did it! It was my fault!' He pointed his finger at his chest as he screamed hysterically. 'Me!!! I hurt her!' Aidan began to shout now – no words – as he ran around the room pulling and throwing things.

Suddenly, the door was flung open as two men walked in. One of them strode hurriedly towards the boy and held his shoulders tightly. Aidan squirmed in his grasp as the man spoke. 'Aidan...listen, listen to dad,'

'No...' protested Aidan. 'I killed her.'

'No. No you didn't. It wasn't your fault. Don't you ever say that!' he looked deep into the boy's eyes. 'She's just sick. She's not dead. And what happened was not your fault – nobody's blaming you. I'm not going to let them. And I'm not going to let you.' Aidan looked back at his father as he continued. 'We only have each other now. Just you and me. But I need you to help me get through this, okay? Can you do that for daddy?'

He nodded through his tears and spoke, 'Can we go home now? I want to go home...'

*       *       *

Jonathan Franco kissed his son goodnight, turned off his bedroom light and walked into the hallway. He massaged the bridge of his nose, picked up the phone and dialed the hospital.

'Doctor West please.' he said.

The receptionist put him on hold for a few minutes while she transferred his call.

'Yes?' spoke the female voice at the other end. 'This is Doctor West.'

'Madeleine, this is Mr. Franco – Aidan's father. There's something I need to ask you... It's what we spoke about earlier. About Aidan.'

'Go on,'

'This...mutation...you haven't told anyone?'

'No. I think we agreed that it was in Aidan's best interest that he shouldn't know about it until a few years from now. He's still only eleven. And it's also better if no one else finds out, don't you think?'

'Yes. But is it true then – that he could have potentially caused Emily's – my wife's – condition?'

Her tone changed suddenly – it became harsher. 'Mr. Franco, I don't believe that it's best to place blame on the child. At any point in time.'

'No, no...I'm not blaming him. It's not his fault, and I understand that – I really do.  I just need to know what it's all about. I feel I should be able to tell him when he starts asking questions. When he starts showing the symptoms.' explained Franco.

Her voice softened. 'I completely understand.' There was a brief moment of silence on the line as she paused before continuing. 'I've only encountered two similar cases in my entire career, Mr. Franco. Both of which weren't as severe as Aidan's. The CT scan we conducted showed abnormally erratic neurological behavior – what I mean is, there's unusually high electrical activity in his brain.'

'So what does that mean?'

'Now you mustn't take my word for it, but I've come up with a theory. It's likely that this activity can create a field of sorts – something that is quite common in normal brain activity – but the field that Aidan can create seems to be rather strong.' She paused hoping that Franco would interrupt her – it was difficult enough to explain a topic that was usually associated with electrically-operated equipment without telling a father that his own son appeared to be behaving in the same way. 'And I believe that his own field has the capability of upsetting another person's. Possibly not his presence itself, but by contact.'

'How... I mean, how does it affect the other person's mind?'

'It disrupts their normal functions. Alters their own activity.'

'Yes, yes...' he was growing impatient. 'But what does that do to them?'

'Communication between the sensory-motor systems is disrupted.'

'Paralysis. Brain damage.' he held his forehead as he said this.

She said nothing.

He thought of his wife lying in that hospital room, IV tubes running through her arms, with the artificial respirator beside her making its whooshing sound as it expanded and contracted. She can't even breathe for herself, he thought. He tried to maintain his composure. Aidan needed him now. That's what Emily would have wanted. This was no time to weaken and break down.

'How can I help Aidan? How can I help my son?' he asked finally.

'He's going to want someone to talk to once his symptoms grow stronger. I suggest you read up as much as you can on the subject. Which is what I'm doing. But you must understand something, Jonathan. People these days don't take kindly to anything new- anything different. They tend to fear what they don't understand. And some people express this fear through hate. I must confess, I don't know whether it is best to inform the school he attends or simply keep his condition under wraps. But I am tending towards the second alternative.'

He looked at the ceiling. Things would not get any easier for himself or Aidan. 'I need to ask you one more thing, doctor. Can I... can I touch my son when it happens? Can I hold him?'

She took in a deep breath before answering. 'No. I would have to advise against it.'

He didn't have anything to say, so he hung up the phone and stared at the wall for several seconds. He then turned around, and walked slowly, heavily, towards his own bedroom.

If he had turned around the other way, he would have seen Aidan standing stiffly in the hallway outside his room staring at his father as walked away and closed the bedroom door.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I don't like placing disclaimers at the beginning of chapters (I don't enjoy writing disclaimers – period), so I've decided to write one at the end of the first chapter and leave it at that. The characters that you will recognize do not belong to me, but all those that you don't are my own.

The events that take place are post-X2, so if anyone hasn't seen the movie as yet and doesn't want to stumble across any spoilers should probably stop reading now.

I actually wrote another X Men fic under another pen-name, but I truly didn't like it that much, so I gave up on it to continue writing another story. I completed my second story, and decided to give X Men another shot. Let's hope it works.