Chapter 21: Sassafras

"Excuse me?" I choked out, not sure if we had a bad connection, "Did you say mountain climbing?"

"Yes," replied Beast calmly, "Your main suspect isn't a mountain climber, by any chance, is he?"

I glanced over at Sabertooth, knowing that he could hear every word of the conversation. His brows were furrowed in confusion, as I'm sure my own were. Nate Dockum was the burley outdoors type, but he certainly was no mountain-climber. Mountain climbing always struck me as a pursuit taken up by those with intelligence and patience, Dockum clearly had neither of those two attributes.

"Uh, no. Can't say that he is. Care to tell me what you're talking about?"

"The condition that the patient suffers from, Monge's Disease, is better known as chronic mountain sickness. If he is not a mountain climber, I must assume that there is another explanation as to why he has been taken ill with a condition caused by extreme air pressure variance."

Ow. My head hurt just listening to what Beast was saying, but I did manage to pick up the last part of his explanation. "Air pressure?"

"Yes. According to Boyle's Law, pressure multiplied by the volume of gas will remain a constant. Ergo, in high altitudes, oxyhaemogolbin plummets, and edema can occur."

"English, Hank."

"I assure you, I am speaking English."

I let out a melodramatic sigh. "English that a person who just squeaked by her high school science classes can understand."

"Ah, yes, you were always more adept at philosophy than physics." He said apologetically. "Basically, as pressure increases, gas volume decreases, and so when you go up a mountain, the amount of oxygen in your blood decreases. Without oxygen –"

"—You die. Yeah, I'm not that dumb, Doc." I let out another audible sigh, "But it doesn't make any sense, we're in South Carolina. I doubt that Sassafras Mountain is high enough to make your ears pop, let alone do what you're talking about."

"I'm sorry Rogue, but that's all I know. I wish I could garner a better explanation."

I turned and looked at Sabertooth, whose keen ears were perked up, listening to the conversation. His face was serious and grave, only a hint of his former anger appearing on his chiseled face. I shrugged at him, unsure of how to proceed. I thanked Dr. McCoy for his time and said good-bye. "It's alright, it's a clue, and we'll figure it out from here."

Although I was damned if I knew how.

tx peppa: I already have a catnip joke or two planned. :) How can I not when I have Sabertooth around?