CHAPTER FORTY
The mutant virus now isolated and classified by Drs. Henry McCoy and Moira McTaggart as H1N2M1, now called the Mutant Flu was still plaguing mutant populations. Magneto and his Brotherhood had been hard hit. They'd been keeping a low profile since Alkali Lake but took the risk of contacting Charles for assistance. Charles asked his medical staff for volunteers to collect specimens from the Brotherhood. Susan agreed to go at once.
When Logan heard the news at the end of a gym session with the students, he raced straight from the gym to her office. He arrived as she finished packing a bag of sampling equipment and general medical supplies to take along. He stopped at the doorway and his eyes blazed with anger. "I'm only going to say this once; I do not want you to go."
Susan closed her eyes, tilted her head back and sighed as she struggled for just the right reply. The only right answer was to agree with him, however she wasn't going to do that. She did agree with his concerns, but the research had to be done. She had to have the blood samples from Magneto's Brotherhood. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she turned to face him."Honey, I'm going to be fine. Hank and I are going. Lensherr's is not going to pull anything."
Logan snorted "You can't trust him."
"I never said I did but I have a job to do and you have to understand. Do I give you grief when you go on a mission? We have got to get this virus figured out for the sake of all mutants and studying blood from victims is one of the best ways. Come on, we've been through this before when you filled me in on our neighbor. I understand what they're capable of, but they need care too."
He just swore and glared at her.
"Logan, what's the deal?"
His voice rose in volume as he paced. "For God's sake, Susan, what do you think? Magneto's the...enemy. Shit, he's out to get me as much as I'm out to get him." He paused, drew a breath and then lowered his voice. "The deal is... I'm scared he'll connect us... or even connect you and... Damn it, Sue, you've got knowledge that he wants."
Oh, Babe" she went to him and put her arms around his waist. "I'm not going for social hour. I'm going to get the samples and come straight back."
Logan stepped back from her embrace and ran his hands over her pregnant belly. The anger was gone from his expression and worry replaced it. "I still don't want you to go. Hank and Electra are perfectly capable; besides, you're not even supposed to be doing that much."
"Honey, I'm fine today and I'll be careful." She locked her hands with his, both of them caressing the twins in her belly.
"You're not listening to me are you?" His anger flared again.
"Yes, I am." She stood on tip toes and kissed him gently. "I'll see you soon." She grabbed her gear, slipped past him and exited the room.
He was left there, anger, frustration and fears boiling. The thought of her or the twins being in any kind of danger made him crazy and he needed to find a way to work it out or he was going to hurt something or someone. Stalking over the elevator he punched the down button. A session in the Danger Room might cool him off.
He programmed a track and destroy sequence with a holographic Magneto and Mystique. As he got into the tracking sequence something seemed wrong. His senses seemed "off" and he couldn't get a fix on his holographic prey. This ain't right, he thought, Get a grip, bub, you're lettin' her get to ya.
As the session continued, the enemy nearly got the jump on him. At the last possible second, he managed to overtake them. Ejecting claws with a bellow, skewering the holographic images, he let the berserker in him reign free; slashing and gutting and mutilating. He didn't know how much time had passed before the rage had burned out enough to stop. When he did, he became immediately aware of a significant amount of blood splattered everywhere. What the hell's going on? The blood came from his knuckles. He retracted his claws and to his shock, they didn't heal! He wasn't sure what was happening or what to do so he thought he'd better get to the med lab and wondered if Susan had returned. Leaving a trail of blood as he went it struck him that no qualified medical professional was at School at the moment; even Electra, while on the grounds somewhere, wasn't quickly available. What if an emergency came up? Hell, I'm havin' an emergency! Ok, here's a valid staff meeting topic: a qualified medical professional needed to be immediately available at all times. Was he ever going to make sure that was on the agenda at the next staff meeting.
He raised his hands and watched the blood trickle down his arm. The wounds gaped and he could see the glint of his metallic knuckle joints and did it ever hurt. Then it dawned on him. Holy shit, the virus! I've got it! It nullified his healing power. That must have been why he was so "off" in the tracking simulation. Panicking was not going to be helpful, but he felt the urge to do so. Nothin' to do but wait. He rummaged through a cabinet looking for something to wrap around his hands and then went to Susan's office.
It wasn't long until she and Hank returned perfectly safe with the specimen's. They must have run into Electra on the way back to the clinic, because they were chatting up a storm as they approached. They froze the moment they saw him all covered in drying blood with his hands poorly wrapped in gauze. "Oh my God!" Susan emphasized each word. "What happened?"
As Logan just shrugged Hank answered, "I do believe we have another case of the virus. I'd thought that maybe he'd be immune". Hank had been affected, having temporarily reverted back to a more human form, and had just recently recovered.
Logan told them what happened then asked "What am I gonna do?"
Sue unwrapped the blood soaked gauze from his knuckles. "This is lovely" she said with mild sarcasm. "Electra, please get some lidocaine and a few suture kits."
"What are you going to do?" Logan asked.
"Stitch you up." She motioned him over the closest exam room. "Come here. Sit down; both hands on the table" she ordered, putting on her lab coat. "Hank, your choice to stick around or not."
"I'm sure Logan is in capable hands. I'll make myself useful elsewhere."
"You're going to stitch this?" Logan asked his wife, looking wary.
"Well, yeah! Do you have a better suggestion?"
"Bandages would be just fine."
"Logan, these go down to the bone. You've got the virus and since it lasts about a week you're probably not going to do too much healing on your own" she explained as she inspected the affected areas.
Electra brought the lidocaine syringes and suture kits.
"Umm, ladies... this isn't by any chance... painful?" he asked, wide-eyed.
"Like a bee sting, miho" Electra answered.
"You're not going to pass out on me, are you?" Susan joked remembering how he reacted when she'd extracted the glass from his neck after the motor cycle wreck. Poor guy went white as a sheet and… well anyway.
"No. I'm not going to pass out on you" he answered sarcastically. As Electra injected the area around the wounds with the lidocaine, he added "but, I think I might not watch." and closed his eyes.
"Ouch, that stings" he groused after the first injection. "Damn, quit already." he complained at the second.
"Logan..." Electra said "...shut-up."
Susan snickered.
"Well thank you for your support, my dear."
"Hon, this is the worst part. We've got to numb each knuckle so the sutures won't hurt."
"Yeah, I know the theory. Just get it over with." It took about four stitches in each knuckle to close the wounds. Electra worked on one hand and Sue, the other. They bandaged him and told him he could open his eyes. Staring at the bandages, he complained, "Oh, man. How am I going to be able to do anything?"
"You're not" came an answer in unison from both women.
"You've got a week sick leave, my dear; that's about how long the virus lasts." Susan's eyes twinkled and she added "I think I'm inclined to put you in a padded room. Seriously, Logan you need to keep your hands as still as possible or you'll risk ripping the sutures."
"That just great Susan! How am I supposed to coach? How am I supposed to work on my class assignments? Typing and writing take just a bit of finger work, ya know. Shit, I probably can't even drive!"
"We'll deal with it, ok" she promised and gathered some antibiotic samples from a nearby cabinet.
Electra asked, "Susan, do you think he should have a Tetanus shot?"
She thought for a second. "Yes, I do." Then speaking to him "With this virus I'm not certain how your immune system will be affected so let's not risk Tetanus."
Electra came in, swabbed his arm with alcohol and jabbed in the needle.
He winced. "Ow! That really hurts."
"I'm sorry. Tetanus shots aren't much fun."
"No kidding. Susan, can we go home now?" he whined.
"Soon, Babe. I've got some things to finish up first."
"Oh, forget about it, Sue" Electra said. "I'll handle it."
"Are you sure? Thanks, so much. I am tired." Susan smiled at her friend and unconsciously patted her belly feeling the babies flutter.
That evening both were relaxing in front of the TV. Susan's legs were propped over his lap as he studied for an exam. "Do you think its cold in here?" he asked.
"No, not really. Do you?"
"No. I'm just makin' conversation." he replied sarcastically
"Ok cranky, do you want the blanket?" She reached across the couch for the plaid throw.
He brushed it harshly away. "Suit yourself. What's with you tonight? You've been in a crappy mood all evening."
"You want the long or short list?" he answered tersely. "My hands hurt, I've got a boat-load of studying to do, and I'm just a little freaked out about this virus thing….." Suddenly he was hit by a fit of dry, hacking, deep in the chest coughing. "Now what's up with this? he said, standing up, shoulders hunched, crossing his arms over his chest, obviously still feeling chilled.
"I'd say you're stressing just a bit, Bright Eyes." She stood and hugged him. "Hey, you feel warm." She reached up to touch his forehead. "I think you've got fever."
"Bull! I don't get sick" he answered and coughed again.
"Well, maybe you do with this virus." A look of extreme concern clouded her face, an expression that didn't make him feel secure.
"What?" he asked
"Nothing."
"Nah-ah! What are you thinking?" He was insistent.
"Just that nullifying your powers and immune system might leave you susceptible to all kinds of nasty bugs."
"I really don't need this right now." He sounded frustrated. He went to the bedroom, dug out a sweatshirt, pulled it on then went back to studying even though coughing kept distracting them both.
"Do you want something for that cough?" she asked quietly
"No"
His coughing was driving her crazy. "Oh for heaven's sake Logan, do something!"
"Like what?" he responded tensely
"How about I fix you a toddy?"
"You'd do that?"
"Anything to quiet that cough" she said going to the liquor cabinet. "I'd take one myself, except it's too strong for the babies."
He sipped on the warm drink she made. It did quiet the cough and warm him up.
"I'm going to bed." he said after about another hour.
"I'm right behind you." She yawned. "Gotta feed the cats and set up the coffee maker."
Logan coughed most of the night. When he wasn't coughing, he tossed and turned alternating between feeling cold or too hot. Around three in the morning he woke up, his throat was so sore he could barely swallow or speak; his whole body ached and he shivered. "Susan." he whispered in the darkness. She didn't answer. "Susan." He nudged her.
"Hmmmm"
He coughed again. "I think I am sick."
She sat up, stretched and touched his hot forehead. "I'd say so." She got out of bed and retrieved a thermometer from the bathroom closet.
"My throat and stomach hurts" he whined as she put the thermometer in his mouth.
"Sound a lot like strep or maybe the flu."
His eyes grew wide. "What am I gonna do?"
"Don't talk" she ordered. A few minutes later she slipped the thermometer from between his lips. "102.4, yeah, I'd say you're sick."
He groaned and coughed again. "That hurts." he rubbed his bandaged hand over his chest. Every time he coughed his chest ached and burned. "What am I gonna do?" he repeated.
"You're going to do what everyone else does. Rest, fluids, Motrin."
"I've got two finals tomorrow."
"Oh, that's right. Well I can probably dose you up enough to get you through" she assured him. "Let me get you something for your fever."
"I'll get it." he said getting out of bed. "Gotta piss anyway."
She rolled her eyes. Sometimes he was just a little too expressive.
She heard the toilet flush and when he didn't come out after a minute, she called to him. "You ok?"
"My stomach hurts." he mumbled from behind the door. He coughed hard, gagged and then threw up. That was followed by a string of expletives after which he emerged, shivering and looking pale. "Just shoot me now" he said between swallowing four Motrins chased by some water. The Motrin gave him and few good hours of sleep, in turn allowing her a few very much needed hours of sleep. A bad night for her equaled a lot of morning sickness the next day.
Susan switched off her alarm clock just before it buzzed; he didn't need to awaken at five a.m. He was sound asleep and didn't even twitch when she slid quietly out of bed. That was unheard of for him. He always knew what was up, even if he pretended not too.
Retrieving the morning paper from the driveway, as was her next door neighbor, she asked Creed if he knew of anyone that had been stricken with the Mutant Flu. He told her he'd heard from some former Brotherhood comrades who'd been stricken but that was old news to her. He inquired about how the School was holding out and she shared that they'd gone through the worst of it and were dealing mostly with more seasonal type of germs.
"Did the Runt miss out on the virus?"
"Victor, I wish you'd quit calling him that" she admonished. It didn't bother her that much but she knew it irritated Logan to no end. "No, he didn't. He came down with it yesterday."
"I'm sorry." He sympathized over Logan's misfortune and sort of apologized for his tease. "I've lucked out, so far" he added
"That's good." Susan replied. "Aren't your mutations similar to Logan's?"
"Yeah, but not nearly as fast healing."
She nodded and then bid him a nice day. It was cold standing there in the driveway, even if her terry robe was thick.
Later she met Electra at their usual spot for their twice weekly morning walk. It used to be a run, but pregnancy put a restriction on that. Since she had blood pressure problems and early contractions, even her walk had been reduced to a mere stroll and half the distance, at that.
She told Electra about Logan's misery. The two women debated and lamented over how grown men were such babies when sick which lead to the inevitable comparisons of men having to deal with cramps or, heaven forbid, the pain of childbirth. After laughing their heads off, Electra did sympathize that the whole deal for him had to be difficult at best. He didn't do sick and Susan concurred.
They discussed their concerns over the lack of support from the CDC. It wasn't unexpected, but it was disappointing. Government agencies were shying away from any issues that involved mutants because laws were changing but implementation was, as yet, unclear. They discussed Hank's the difficulty of isolating a vaccine and then ended their walk with Susan asking Electra to corner Logan and strep and flu swab him if Hank didn't get the chance.
Susan explained she was going to be out, even though it was her scheduled day at School. Once a week, until her obstetrician decided otherwise, she had to go for an hour long monitoring session to confirm that she was not having contractions and the twins heart rates were doing ok. At least she'd graduated from wearing the portable monitor twenty four/seven.
A bit after seven, Susan brought Logan some hot tea with honey. "Logan. Wake up, hon." she gently shook him.
He groaned and coughed. "Don't want to" he whimpered. He stretched and popped his joints and coughed some more. He sat up ever so slowly, took a sip of the tea, wincing as he swallowed. It tasted good but hurt going down his raw throat. Mug in hand, he trudged over to the bathroom sink, stood there for a while debating whether he had the energy to shower. He didn't and he didn't even care, so brushing his teeth was going to have to be ok for today.
"I've got something to get you through your exams this morning." Susan said handing him the electronic toothbrush handle.
He grunted approval. While he brushed his teeth, she pulled two vials from the small fridge she kept in the lounge area of their bedroom and filled a syringe with a few ccs from each vial.
"What the hell is that?" He eyed the syringe suspiciously. His voice was gravelly from the cough and sore throat.
"B-12 and dexamethasone. . . Where do you want it? Backside or arm?"
"And this is going to do what?"
"Make you feel ok enough to survive your exams."
"Ok." he sighed and held out his arm then grimaced when she injected him.
"Take four more Motrins now and again at noon and you'll be functional for most of the day" she instructed then reached up and felt the side of his neck. "Open your mouth and let me see your throat."
"No. Why?" He just wanted to be left alone in misery.
"You've got some swollen glands going on, now open up." He scowled and did as he was told. Then she pointed to the edge of the bath tub "Sit. He was too tall for her to get a good look.
He tried to back away and gagged when she used a tongue depressor. "Quit already" he complained. "You tryin' to make me puke?"
"Oh, you're ok. When you're through with your exams I want you to come by the clinic and let Electra strep you."
"Do what?"
"It doesn't hurt; I promise."
"That's what they all say. Look Sue, all I wanna do is get through this morning, come back home and sleep."
"I know. I just want to be certain what were dealing with."
"What difference does it make? I'm sick."
"It makes a lot of difference. Besides I want to recheck the stitches, too."
"Fine! Whatever." His frustration was evident and he just wanted to be left alone. He threw on some jeans and a hoodie sweat shirt. He looked like a bum and he didn't give a damn. "Gotta go" he said gruffly.
"Aren't you going to eat?"
"Not hungry" he answered "I'll stop at 'bucks and grab a coffee and something." He meant Starbucks on the way to the campus.
"Ok. See you later. Good luck, Bright Eyes. Love you" she hollered as he made his way through the house.
"Thanks. Love you too, darlin'" he yelled back and promptly had a coughing fit.
Logan pulled into the parking lot at Westchester Community College. Marie, in her Mustang pulled in right beside him. Marie took a look at an obviously unshowered and generally very scruffy Logan and exclaimed. "Pulled an all- nighter, huh?" referring to the possibility that he had studied all night.
"Nah, kid. I'm sick." he answered with a cough and a grimace.
"Logan, you don't get sick."
"I've got that freakin' virus. You know..."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. It' got my immune system screwed up and Sue thinks I got the flu now because of it."
"That sucks" she said.
"Big time" he agreed. "Ready for the test?"
"No. I'm never ready for tests. They just freak me out. How 'bout you?"
"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess. I never did real well in my previous life."
"Are ya startin' to remember some?"
"Yeah, a few things every now and then; kinda of comes to me when I'm not expecting it. I'll do something or see something and I'll remember. It's weird." He held the door open for her. "Let's do it." he said and found a seat.
"Yep. Good luck" she said.
He winked and smiled at her.
The meds that Susan gave him helped. He didn't feel exactly himself, but the body aches, sore throat and stomach ache seemed tolerable. He wished he'd taken some of the cough medicine she'd offered but he could sip coffee during the exam and that helped a little.
He finished up the psychology exam in about an hour. It was an essay exam and not long into it his hands ached and burned from the stress he put on the knuckle wounds. He had absolutely no idea how he did. Because he was mildly dyslexic, writing was a challenge. Thank heavens for spell and grammar check when it came to typing essays. Unfortunately for the exam there was no computer and he had to write the answers out in longhand.
The second exam he took focused on coaching techniques and theory for high school level sports and was more to his liking and he felt confident. He hoped he'd aced it but remembered feeling like he'd aced a test before and in reality had not.
Come to think of it, he'd flunked out of University the first time. Now there was a memory! He'd flunked out because he had been screwed up on drugs and gone to class stoned more times than not, if he even went. No wonder Elizabeth had kicked his ass out. He had really been an idiot then trying everything back in those hedonistic late 1960's. He could have been the poster boy for sex, drugs and rock and roll and was sure he'd be dead by now if it hadn't been for his mutation.
Driving back after the exams, he remembered Altamont when he'd been riding with the Hells Angels. That concert was messed up from the start and got out of control fast. Booze, drugs, guns and crazy people made a toxic mix. He'd been assigned to 'guard' against non-paying concert- goers. A particularly cute chick wanted to get in and she didn't have any money, but was willing to offer him a 'trade'. She had to have been underage but hell, he was only nineteen. Things between them were getting hot and heavy when all hell broke loose; gun shots and screams and people running everywhere. He'd told her;…. what was her name? Laura? Lisa? No, Lorelei!... he'd told Lorelei to run and he'd catch up with her hoping they'd hook up later. He never saw her alive again!
It had pissed him off so badly that he went on a drug and booze binge of epic proportions ingesting and shooting up with anything he could buy, beg or steal. His powers were still developing so he could 'reap some benefit' from recreational chemicals and if he hadn't been a mutant, he'd probably overdosed for sure.
When the cops had picked him up and charged him, as they had other Hell's Angel's he was so messed up he didn't know what was happening. There was large gap in his memory about the aftermath of Altamont that he knew wasn't caused by any brainwashing or memory chips. He vaguely recalled a jail cell and some things that happened in the jail cell that were best forgotten. He could recall the hell of coming down off that binge because healing or de-toxing was slower then.
That incident got him deported back to Canada. He remembered being escorted to the border and unceremoniously turned over to Canadian authorities. He didn't go to prison because Elizabeth had come to his rescue. Afterward he tried to turn his life around but didn't have the will to get off the drugs and booze at that stage of his life. He was too rebellious and didn't take anything seriously.
Logan shook the memory away as he pulled up in front of Xavier's School easing his new pick-up into its designated space in the garage. He went to the clinic remembering his promise to Susan to get checked over. The clinic was packed overflowing into the hallway with sick kids. Waning were last cases of the Mutant Flu and on the rise was Influenza and a nasty stomach bug. He didn't really want to be there because kids puking into any receptacle available turned his stomach. It would be totally uncool for the Great Wolverine to lose it in front of them and he was just barely hanging on. That reasoning plus the long wait was his excuse out of it. Besides, hadn't Susan told him to try and keep away from obviously sick people?
Instead he went to his office. There was an e-mail from Charles stating classes were to be suspended for a few days due to the rapidly spreading illnesses among the students and staff. That was a great relief because he still had one more exam and didn't have a clue how long he was going to feel so lousy.
Lunch time came around and out of habit he headed to the dining room. He wasn't really hungry but again out of habit, ordered up a burger and a pile of fries. When Mrs. Burns set it down in front of him, he suddenly felt queasy and his pallor faded.
Dear old Mrs. Burns sized up the situation and figured out he wasn't quite himself. "Don't panic Laddie, everybody's sick around here. Let me bring you some chicken soup." The portly woman removed the burger plate and hurried back with soup. It was much easier to cope with and Logan managed about half a bowl.
Later he checked out the line at the clinic and found it much smaller. Hank spotted him waiting and motioned him directly in. "Your bride clued me in." Hank shared as he settled Logan into an examining room. "Said to strep and swab you."
"Yeah, whatever Beast. I'll spear your guts if this hurts." Logan was joking.
"You know, Wolverine, there is a tradition among medical professionals."
"What's that?"
"The more obnoxious the patient the more invasive testing we order."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"Don't threaten or I'll get out my protoscope!"
He knew what Hank was talking about and raised his arms in mock surrender "Yes sir; I definitely retract it."
"Good man. Now open up and stick out your tongue" he ordered. Before Logan knew what was coming Hank swabbed his throat and sinuses. Logan coughed, sneezed and looked extremely irritated in the aftermath.
"What have you been feeling?" Hank asked
"I feel like shit."
"I'm aware of that. Symptoms Logan; tell me about them."
"Throat hurts; stomach hurts, puked last night. Sue told me my temp was 102 or something." He coughed again. "And this damn cough."
"Any diarrhea?" Hank asked nonchalantly
Logan looked at him in utter disbelief and disgust and replied firmly, "No."
"Headache?"
"Hurts, but nothing like a couple of weeks ago."
"You know Logan; you're becoming one of my high- maintenance, frequent- flyer patients."
"Not by choice."
"I believe you. Ok, you've got the Mutant Flu, that's confirmed from your labs yesterday. With your powers being what they are, and now basically off-line, you're probably going to come down with everything and anything."
"Ya got any good news, Hank?"
Hank didn't answer as he read the strep and flu tests. "Not today, my friend. You have strep throat and Influenza Type A."
"I'm just a lucky guy. So now what?"
"Logan, this could become very serious. I want you to go home, get in bed and stay there until the virus runs its course and your powers return."
"Come on, Hank! I've got another exam. I've got a life."
"Let me tell you, it can get worse. You've got zero immunity" he re-emphasized. "Let me see the knuckles." He grabbed Logan's hand and carefully pulled off the bandages. The wounds were an angry red and pus oozed from a few stitches.
"Do these hurt?"
Logan nodded
"You're showing signs of infection."
"Ok. Come on, I've been through worse."
"I'm sure. Listen to me, for the duration of this virus you are at its mercy. There isn't a bloody thing I can do for you until it runs its course. With your immunity and healing gone, you are basically a walking incubator for any disease that comes along."
"What are ya saying, Hank?"
Hank sighed in exasperation. "Don't be obtuse! If you have a death wish you might just get it. I have no idea whether you'll respond to antibiotics. Strep used to kill people less than a century ago. Flu killed millions in 1918, '57 and '68 and the infection in your knuckles could become septic. Do you understand?"
"Septic?"
"Ever here of the old fashioned term blood poisoning?"
"Yeah. More Normals die from it than survive."
"That's correct.You've got the idea. Now get another idea…right now, you're a Normal!" Hank's voice rose as he spoke. He paused to stare Logan directly in the face. "Need I elaborate more?"
Logan looked away, first irritated and then looked back at Hank with resignation. "No. You proved your point. You know, I never had these problems when I was travelin' around. It's seems like in the last year or so... Hell, it doesn't matter."
"Logan, go home and just take it easy; watch TV, read a book, sleep. It only lasts five to seven days."
"It's not the virus I'm worried about. It's the other junk that I might get."
"That's why I said GO HOME."
"Roger that, Beast."
"And here" Hank handed over penicillin and an anti-viral for Type A Flu. "Take the Pen-VK three times a day until they're done and Symmetrel twice daily."
He looked over the bottles carefully and asked. "What'll these do?"
"Honestly Logan, I'm not certain in your case, but it's not going to cause harm."
Logan shrugged and walked away.
Being stubborn he didn't go straight home. Instead he went back to his office to gather up some things. If he had to be stuck at home, at least he could use the time to work on plans for the training camp. As he downloaded files he started to feel bad. The chills returned, his head pounded, the muscles in his neck and shoulders were aching and stiff and stomach churned. Scott came by to remind him of a staff meeting and took one look at his glassy eyed, fever-flushed team mate and immediately excused him from the staff meeting.
He made it back home in one piece, but not without having to pull over and be unpleasantly reintroduced to his lunch. When he pulled into the driveway, the urge to be sick again overwhelmed him and he dashed out of his truck, barely making it to the bathroom. When he could finally get it together, he went in search of the anti-nausea medicine Susan kept around. He couldn't find it so he called her on the phone.
"It's the bottle labeled promethazine" she informed him. "What did Hank say?"
"Why in the hell does it say prometh-whatever-?" Logan was irritated at his own ignorance and just didn't have tolerance for complications.
"That's what it's called. What did Hank say?"
"Strep and the flu" he answered in monotone.
"And?"
"And what?"
"Logan, what are you supposed to do? Do I have to call Hank?"
"No you don't have to call Hank" he snipped. "He gave me some pills and told me to stay home." He coughed and started to feel nauseated again. "Sue, I gotta go. When ya comin home?"
"Probably in an hour or two. You going to be ok?"
"Yeah" he answered and then clicked off the phone. No, he wasn't sure he was going to be ok but hell if he wasn't going to admit it. How in the hell did anyone deal with being sick?
He was stretched out on the couch snoozing when she got home that evening. His normally acute senses were completely off line and he didn't even twitch as she came in the door. He looked comfortable and peaceful so Susan didn't disturb him.
She changed clothes and set about making some chicken soup out of a can. The lights from the kitchen woke him up. He sat up, looking lost and dazed. "Didn't mean to bother you, Bright eyes" she said standing by the stove. "Can I get you anything?"
"Nah" he answered groggily and got up and went to the fridge. "I'm thirsty" he said staring into the fridge. Nothing appealed.
"I'll make you some tea, if you want" she volunteered.
He nodded, coughed and sat down at the kitchen table. "How was your day?"
"Not as rough as yours, I think. How are you feeling?"
"I'll live, I guess." His voice was rough and deeper than normal. "I'll tell ya though; I'm developing a whole new outlook on my mutation."
"What do you mean?"
"There were so many times I wished I never had it and now I wanna get over this damn thing and get my powers back." He coughed hard making him momentarily breathless. "This sucks" he whined when he finally could breathe again.
Susan smiled and nodded. "The flu is really bad this season. Paula told me Westchester General saw one hundred fifty cases in the last twenty four hours and School's got more than its share" she said, placing two bowls of steaming soup on the table. They ate in silence. She was bone-weary from a poor nights sleep and too long of a day.
Logan noticed her fatigued appearance and commented. "You're lookin' tired yourself, darlin'. Not over doin' it, eh?"
She shook her head, but it was a fib.
He sensed it but the most he could muster to help her out was to clear their soup bowls and set them in the sink. That would do for this evening. "I've got to try and study" he said wearily and settled back on the couch.
"When's the exam?" she asked and settled in on the other side of the couch to read professional journals.
"Tomorrow at eleven thirty. Do you think you can dose me with the stuff you gave me this morning?"
"Sure, provided you promise not to do anything until then."
"No problem." He patted the couch, "I'm stayin right here."
It wasn't long before he fell asleep on the couch. She decided it best not to disturb him and put an extra blanket over him and settled in for the night alone in their room. Her motives were not completely innocent as she desperately needed a good nights sleep and since he seemed comfy on the couch, his coughing, tossing and turning wouldn't keep her awake.
When his medication began to wear off a few hours later, he woke shivering and achy from the climbing fever and his stomach was threatening to erupt. There was a new symptom in the mix; he was itching all over. "Does this never freakin' end!" he said aloud and turned on the lamp beside him. Angry red, raised welts covered his arms. He lifted his t-shirt and his chest and belly were covered with them. He trudged to the bathroom to scout up more Motrin and whatever else he was supposed to take.
Susan awoke and mumbled "Do you need me?"
"No. Just time for drugs."
"Ok." she said and snuggled deeper into the covers.
He took another dose of Penicillin, and more Motrin and then stripped off his jeans and t-shirt and crawled in next to her. He tried to drift off to sleep but the itching kept him from it.
He scratched and twitched enough that she sat up. In exasperation she asked, "What's the matter with you?"
"I got all these red bumps all over and they itch like crazy" he answered in a pitiful tone.
"What?" she exclaimed and turned on the light. "Let me see. Oh Lord! This looks like hives. Are you allergic to penicillin?"
"I got no clue! Never taken the stuff."
"Well you need to stop taking it." She went to the well-stocked medicine cabinet and dug out Benadryl.
"I just took a dose. Is that a problem?" he asked.
"I hope not. Here take this."
"What is it?"
"Diphenhydramine. It's an anti-histamine."
"Could you translate that into something I can understand?"
"It stops allergic reactions."
"Will it stop this itching?" he said while continuing to scratch.
"That's what I just said, Logan." She sounded testy though she didn't mean to.
" Darlin', I'm sorry to be such a pain in the ass."
"Don't be Bright Eyes." She softened. "This isn't your fault. I wish I had something in my medicine bag of tricks to really help."
"Thanks. Guess it can't get much worse."
"God, I hope not! We'll have to change your antibiotic tomorrow. Now try to rest and don't scratch."
"Right!" he replied sarcastically. He settled back and closed his eyes. About ten minutes later he broke out in a cold sweat. "Aw shit" the muttered and dashed for bathroom just in time for his stomach to rudely eject the medications he'd just taken and supper.
The following morning was even slower going for him than the previous. He'd finally slept, but badly, tossing, turning and coughing. Because he'd been unable to keep his medications down, he continued to itch from the hives and his fever remained high.
Susan stuck around instead of going for a morning swim and around nine she brought some tea to the bedside. His appearance in sleep, fever flushed with dark circles under closed eyes, was disturbing. She gently touched his forehead. He felt like he was burning up with fever. "Logan, honey, time to get up."
He stirred, moaned and coughed. He cracked his eyes open, squinting at the sunlight streaming in. "Close the blinds" he rasped and shielded his eyes with his arm.
"Brought you some tea and honey."
He nodded and grunted.
"Let me check your temp. She tried to insert the thermometer between his resisting lips.
"Knock it off" he growled, not wanting to be bothered.
"Hush!" she ordered. "Open up."
He did as he was told and sat up slowly, stiffly. "Whoa" he groaned! "Head rush."
It didn't take long for the thermometer to register 104.2. "Logan, you really shouldn't be going anywhere."
He waved her off and coughed. "Gotta take that exam."
"You know, you could post-pone it."
"Nah. I just wanna get it over with, come home and sleep."
"Well, I'm telling you my dear not-so-Bright Eyes, you need to give it up."
"Just dose me up, doc."
She sighed and looked skyward. "This is so against my better judgment" and she handed him four Tylenol. "Maybe this'll be easier on your stomach."
He took the pills, chased by tea and settled back. It took a while, but finally he felt a little better and sat up slowly. The head rush wasn't as bad but every joint in his body ached and his neck and shoulders felt stiff. Just making his way to the kitchen seemed to drain his energy. She'd left toast and more tea and he sat heavily on the stool at the breakfast bar. Just looking at the food made him queasy but he figured he'd better try to get some of it down. After half the tea and a few bites of toast, he forced himself to shower, hoping it might energize him and besides, he needed to. The shower didn't help; it actually made him feel more exhausted.
He just finished dressing when another head rush forced him to lean against a wall and his stomach turned over. He cursed aloud and quickly made his way back to the bathroom. A few minutes later, bathed in cold sweat and shivering, it occurred to him that he hadn't kept anything down in the past twenty four hours and wondered if things could get any worse.
He managed to get through the exam in a fever-fog and figured he failed, big-time; though by now he felt sicker and just didn't have enough energy to care. The day was overcast, yet the light bothered his eyes and made the pounding in his head worse. When he got home he was glad to close up the window blinds and bury his head under the pillows. He took some more Motrin, hoping for some relief from the head and neck ache. The headache was approaching levels like he'd experienced with the memory chips but just in a different place.
He was incredibly thirsty and with great effort, he dragged himself to the kitchen for something to drink. His stomach was so upset that nothing appealed, but settled on Sprite and took some more anti-emetic hoping to quell the nausea. Finally still shivering from spiking fever, he crawled back into bed and piled on the covers.
In about five minute's time, it became clear nothing was going to work and he barely made it to the bathroom before he vomited. He went back to bed and tried to sleep but the urge to be sick overwhelmed him again. That pattern repeated itself a few more times before he gave up and just stayed by the toilet.
Sitting on the tile floor beside the toilet shivering violently, he wrapped his arms around himself to try to stop shaking. His head still pounded and he barely had the energy to lean over for the next wave of vomiting though nothing came up but stomach acid. He was still coughing like crazy and between that and vomiting, his abdominal and chest muscles were really hurting; kind of like being on the losing end of a boxing match. His fever was high enough to make him hallucinate and he ejected his claws in response to some threat his mind manufactured but was so out of it, all he could do was stare at the blood and infectious ooze running down his arms before he blacked out.
Later the ringing of the phone brought him around but he was too weak to respond.
The phone was Susan calling to check on him. When he didn't pick up, she tried not to worry. After all, he was not the most phone- friendly person in the world.
Her day had been stressful. Flu, strep and a nasty stomach bug had School in its grip and clearly it was going to be a long siege. Her back hurt, she was beyond tired from interrupted and worrisome sleep. She tried to cut out early, but things conspired against it. Traffic was horrendous, the line at the grocery store was special and she wasn't moving very fast or efficiently. When she pulled into the driveway and noticed the door to his truck still open, three thoughts crossed her mind; first was, what an idiot, leaving the door to his new truck open. The second was, oh well, he's headed back out for something; I just pulled in at the wrong time. Lastly, something is very wrong.