Chapter 36
Two days later Logan found himself laid out on yet another operating table, prepped and readied for surgery – only this time he realised that it really was the last haul. Hank had seen it fit to implant a small catheter in the back of one of his hands to try and help minimise his patient's distress by the need of any further needles – and after the initial rigmarole of trying to get the tiny tube in place – the sharp pinch the likes of which could be compared to a pneumatic drill boring it's way through flesh and bone – as the doctor had tried to find a suitable vein amongst Logan's web of metallic skeleton, their attempts at the usually simple procedure had finally proved successful.
Hank now smiled down at him, readily scrubbed up – the scene could have easily been compared to that of some sort of bizarre horror movie Logan thought to himself, if it wasn't for the fact that he could still easily recognise his hairy friend beneath his uniform of sterile scrubs and mask, and that he realised deep down that the only thing he now had to be vaguely fearful of was the unknown of the procedure ahead – but Logan realised by now, and was reassured no end by the fact that he knew he was in the best possible hands, and looked up into the kindly eyes of the man who was about to operate on him.
"Ready Logan?" The doctor asked, and Jean wiped the nervous perspiration away from her lover's forehead and cheeks – Hank had eventually found her in the kitchen, preparing dinner for the students the evening before and the two had shared a rather heartfelt conversation, during which a distraught Jean had spent almost an hour sobbing into her long-time friend's warm shoulder before bravely wiping her eyes and resolving to carry on with the same steely determination she'd exhibited throughout this whole upsetting scenario. She'd needed someone to hold her, and some time alone to just be herself and allow her own emotions to take first president for a while, but now Logan needed her again, and she had finally been able to return to his side, pushing him on through every long and agonising step of his painful recovery, feeling stronger than ever – thanks to Hank. Logan nodded.
"Right then." Hank smiled reassuringly with this. "You know the drill now Logan… shall we begin?"
Logan flinched slightly as he felt the by now familiar cold of the heavy mask being placed over his mouth and nose, suffocating slightly, but Jean looked down and smiled at him from her position as she currently leaned over him – although her eyes looked scared and anxious, and he winked at her reassuringly.
His hypersensitive hearing heard Hank as he popped the cap off a large empty syringe, and he noticed out of the corner of his eye as the doctor filled it with the same, familiar, thick white and milky liquid of before, before approaching to the right hand side of the bed.
"Alright Logan?" He asked.
Logan looked at him and nodded – the pair exchanging a small, mutual smile as their eyes met, and the kindly doctor patted him reassuringly on the shoulder.
"It'll all be over soon." He promised, and Logan felt the familiar, hot sensation as he gently emptied the first half of the syringe's milky contents into the catheter in the back of his hand, and the world began to blur slightly at the edges. "Right then Logan…" Hank smiled. "I need you to start counting down from 10 for me please."
"10…" Logan murmured – already beginning to feel slightly drowsy. "9… 8… 7…" He groaned slightly as his right arm suddenly began to do numb… the loss of sensation suddenly spreading through his entire body as his vision started to blur. His eyelids were by now also becoming heavy.
He looked up at Jean and tried to smile, but found to his split second alarm that he no longer seemed to have any control over any of his bodily functions – he's entire body suddenly felt too heavy – before he finally relaxed into the intoxicating lure of sleep.
"6…5…4…4…4…3…"
…and then everything went black as Logan knew no more.