Chapter 12 - Acquaintances
Westchester Children's Hospital, New York.
Jean was having a busy night. Since the beginning of her shift at seven p.m., she had attended to at least fifteen sick kids; the senior doctor who was supposed to help and supervise her work had been away on dinner break for the last two hours.
To make things worse, since her conversation with Logan a few hours ago the redhead had been feeling edgy. From time to time, she would secretly cast a telepathic net all over the emergency room and adjoining floors to certify herself that no one was coming in to murder her.
During one of those psychic scans, she was unintentionally pulled towards an infant's mind and sensed his sheer desperation.
"Rose, can you check if there's a baby or a toddler crying in the waiting room? I'd like to exam him next," she asked the nurse.
A few seconds later, the woman returned to Jean's office, which was located just beside the emergency room. She was followed by a tall man holding his weeping baby son in his arms. "Wow. Good hearing, Dr. Grey. This cutie's being crying for at least half an hour in the waiting room. The screening staff didn't give him priority because his vital signs are normal, and he doesn't have a fever."
"That's all right, Rose. I'll take it from here, thank you," Jean said, and the nurse excused herself from the office. The doctor then addressed the little boy's father. "Hi, I'm Dr. Jean Grey," she politely offered a hand to him from her spot behind the desk.
"Hello, hmm… I'm Scott, Scott Summers, and this is my son Nathan," the man shook her hand and sat across from her, all the while staring at the young red-haired doctor with astonishment - he'd never seen a woman more beautiful in his life.
"Okay then, Mr. Summers. The screening report says that Nathan Christopher is almost nine months old and doesn't have any previous illnesses or allergies. Also, that you've just moved to New York, today. Is that correct?"
Scott nodded in confirmation, and she continued. "So, what brings you to the hospital? Besides your son being obviously very upset, I mean," she questioned with a kind smile.
"Well… that's pretty much it," the man tried to explain. "Every night Nate cries his eyes out for at least an hour in a row. After that, he gets so tired that he ends up sleeping just from the amount of effort."
"Hum, I see. For how long has it been happening?" She inquired while typing down the data on the computer.
"Almost three months," Scott sighed. "We've already been to several doctors, tried different formulas, medicines, even homeopathy… Nothing has worked. I really don't know what else to do."
"Aw, poor baby," Jean glanced at them with sympathy - both father and son looked like they could use a break. Oddly, the longer the toddler stayed close to her, the more she felt her mind connecting to his. "Mr. Summers, is there anything else particular about his crying?"
Scott hesitated for a few seconds, but then informed her. "Actually, there is. It always starts at the same time."
Jean glanced at her watch. "Like… around eleven p.m.?"
"About nine thirty. Nine thirty-four, to be precise."
The doctor raised a brow at his remark. "You mean… precisely at nine thirty-four, every night?"
"Exactly. I thought he would cry only at nine thirty-four Alaskan time, but apparently my son doesn't suffer from jet lag. We've arrived in New York this morning, and he started crying at nine thirty-four p.m., local time," the man chuckled humorlessly. He looked tired, and more than worried.
'That's weird,' she thought. "Could you lay Nathan down on the examination bed? I'd like to take a closer look at him."
"Yes, sure," he replied, and raised from the chair with the weeping baby in his arms to do as he was told. In the meanwhile, the redhead stood up as well and walked towards the bed, and only then did Scott realize that she was pregnant. He also didn't miss the fact that she wasn't wearing a ring. As soon as Jean started the physical exam, Nathan's arms reached up to grab her face and hands. "Hey sweetie, what's the matter, huh?" She asked him in a soothing voice, but the baby started crying more heavily. This time, though, she felt him clearly trying to telepathically reach out for her and froze on her spot. 'Oh my God! His mind is grasping out for mine, and not the other way around,' she concluded.
Scott noticed her stunned expression. "Uh… Dr. Grey… Is my son all right? Are you all right?" He asked with apprehension and dared to lightly touch her shoulder, causing her to snap out of her reverie.
"Uh, yes… Everything's fine," she told him in a professional tone, recomposing herself. But the toddler seemed to miss her touch; he abruptly sat up and clutched the top of her scrub, making his father blush immediately.
"Oh, ah… I'm sorry about that. Nathan usually doesn't get this… clingy to strangers. I think he likes you," Scott apologized with a shy grin.
"It's all right, don't worry. Many small children do that," she dismissed it, trying to hide the concern in her voice. "Can I, uh… Can I hold him for a moment?"
"Sure, but… should you? I mean, in your condition…" He timidly motioned to the bulge in her abdomen.
"Oh, it's okay… I'm still allowed to small efforts," Jean explained with a genuine smile.
She then picked Nathan up in her arms at the same time that she carefully probed his fragile psyche. The woman was met with sadness and confusion, and soon realized that the baby's mind was searching for his mother's. The little guy missed her. 'Oh God, poor thing.' Not knowing what else she could do, the telepath sent feelings of love, warmth and happiness into the infant's head. Nate stopped crying almost immediately, letting go of her top.
"Wow. That… that's a first," Scott spoke with admiration as the doctor handed his son back to him. "You must be really good with children."
"Thanks," Jean said, her face flushing slightly. "So, uh… I'm sorry to ask, but… did anything important happen three months ago?"
"Yes. My wife passed away," the man responded without vacillation, but avoided her eyes. Nate was already asleep in his strong arms.
"Oh, I… I'm sorry for your loss," she said truthfully. "It must be hard to take care of a baby all by yourself."
"Yeah, well… you get used to it," he answered, and suddenly stared back at her face. "How did you deduce that?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"How did you know something had happened?" Scott inquired again.
Jean's heart started beating faster. "I-I didn't."
Scott looked down at the sleeping baby, remembering how easily he'd stopped crying just a few minutes ago, while in her arms. Then he stared back at the beautiful doctor and whispered. "Did you read my son's mind?"
The redhead's green eyes widened. "W-What?"
"Are you a mutant, Dr. Grey? Can you tell me if my son's a mutant too?" Scott asked in a calm, low tone.
'Shit!' At this point, Jean panicked. "I… I-I don't know what you're talking about, I-I didn't do anything to your son. I only held him," her hands were trembling, and she started feeling dizzy.
"Hey, I'm a mutant too," he confessed quietly after noticing her agitated state. "It's okay, your secret's safe with me."
She needed to control the situation and stop the boy's father right now. Jean took a deep breath to calm herself and put on a professional face. "Sir… I think you're misinterpreting what's happened here. I assure you that I'm not a mutant," she stated, holding her abdomen defensively and heading towards the office's door. "Clinically, your son is fine; his physical condition is excellent. He's probably just tired due to the airplane trip. You should take him home now," the redhead said in a firm and detached tone, opening the door for him.
Scott was taken aback by her sudden change of demeanor. "Huh? All right, Dr. Grey," he said and walked to the door carefully holding Nathan in his arms. Before he left though, he turned his face around to regard the woman one last time.
"Mutant or not, I really appreciate what you did."
As Mr. Summers left, Jean closed the door and leaned her back against it, her heart beating at a thousand miles per hour. 'Oh, God… What have I done?'
Xavier's School for the Gifted Youngsters, Salem Center, New York.
On the next morning, the X-Men were practicing in the Danger Room. They had discovered the location of four 'cure' factories and were designing a battle plan to destroy all of them.
Wolverine divided the team in three combat groups. Blue team was composed by Beast, Gambit and Polaris; they would raid New Jersey's plant. Next was the golden team, formed by Nightcrawler, Storm, Iceman and Jubilee, who were supposed to attack the factory in Connecticut. Finally, the black team had Rogue, Havoc and himself; they were heading to Massachusetts. Professor X and Forge would stay in the mansion, telepathically linking the groups and supervising everything. Angel was left out of the mission, since Warren Worthington the Third couldn't risk being exposed as a mutant renegade - the X-Men needed his money and connections more than his wings.
"Wolverine, shouldn't we be splitting ourselves in four groups?" Storm questioned him after the training was over. She was still panting hard.
"No. We ain't got enough people. Some of ya are still too green… I won't risk sendin' anyone in pairs only," he explained as the holographic scenery faded away.
"Logan is right. We don't have enough men power to strike the four factories at once. We attack the three biggest compounds first, and deal with the plant in Illinois soon after that," Xavier's voice was heard through the intercom; he was overseeing the training from the observation booth.
"You know dat while we attack de first three factories, de Hellfire Club will take de 'cure' stocked in Chicago to some other place, don't you?" Gambit pondered.
"I'm counting on that," Wolverine said. "Forge's got access to the plant's cameras in Chicago. We'll know where they'll be takin' what's left of the 'cure' firsthand."
Beast was the next to speak. "In resume, my friends… After the three complexes are extinguished, the X-Men must return the mansion for further instructions."
"Yeah. We gotta be fast. Sneak in, blow up the 'cure', get out. No civilian casualties, and no X-Man get hurt," Logan ordered. "Got it?"
"We hear ya', suggah. Just tell us when."
The feral man looked at Rogue. "Tonight. We leave at eleven. Double check your uniforms and communicators; when ya arrive at the targets, wait for my sign before goin' in. We gotta strike in sync."
"All right, X-Men. Rest now and prepare yourselves," Xavier commanded, "this mission is utterly important. We cannot fail."
Salem Center, New York.
That evening, Logan decided to check on Jean before leaving for the mission. He entered the apartment and dropped some bottled water and groceries on the kitchen counter. There were a lot of baby stuff spread around the living room, but no sign of the redhead. He sniffed the air and was able to smell her sweet scent coming from the bedroom. It felt intoxicating, and the feral groaned. Damn! He missed her.
He approached the room and called her name. "Jean? Ya there, darlin'?" But the woman didn't answer. He slowly opened the door and saw her laying on the bed, sleeping in nothing but one of his loose flannel shirts, long red tresses scattered over the white pillow. She looked beautiful under the room's hazy light, and Logan had to control his urge to go inside and climb over her body - that had become forbidden territory. After a few seconds, the woman started shifting in bed, and soon opened her eyes.
He smiled. "Morning, Red."
Jean sat up in bed, startled, her mind quickly substituting drowsiness for panic. She immediately glanced at the door, only to realize it was him. "Jesus, Logan! Are you trying to scare me to death?" The redhead scolded him, panting.
"Sorry. I brought ya some food," he told her, his thumb pointing outside the room while his gaze lingered on her long legs.
"Thanks," she said, and then pulled the shirt over her thighs to try to conceal her bare skin. Without getting up, Jean glimpsed outside the window and saw that it was already dark. "What time is it?"
"Almost seven. Can I come in?" Logan was still standing at the bedroom's entrance, leaning on the door frame.
The redhead bit her lower lip. Despite their almost sociable exchange the night before, she still felt uncomfortable around him. "Why? What do you want?"
"I wanna talk. Just talk. We're havin' a baby, Jean. The least we can do is be civil to each other."
The telepath stared down at her hands for a few moments. "Fine," she finally agreed and reached for the lamp on the nightstand.
Wolverine entered the room and sat on the edge of the bed. Now, under the yellowish light, he could see dark circles around Jean's orbs. "Ya look tired. Tough shift?"
"The toughest," she told him, recalling her interaction with the grieving mutant toddler the night before. She wondered how he was doing today. "But it was the last one, so… I'll have my whole life to rest."
"Ya quit?"
Her green eyes became wet. "Yeah."
Logan felt torn. He was relieved that Jean wasn't such an easy target now that she wouldn't be out working every two nights. On the other hand, he knew how much she loved being a doctor, and that her current job was a one-time opportunity. "Maybe ya can go back to work someday… After the baby's born, ya can take the antidote, then the vaccine. Maybe those morons at Metro will take ya back."
"I doubt it," she wiped her eyes angrily. "Besides, I won't be able to take the antidote for at least another year or two…"
The man furrowed his brows. "Why? The baby's comin' out in three months."
"She still needs to eat, Logan, and I intend to breastfeed," Jean explained. "We don't know if the antibodies are transmitted through breast milk. They could harm the baby; I won't risk that."
The feral looked at her with admiration. "This kid's damn lucky to have ya as her mom."
Jean felt her cheeks blushing and quickly changed the topic. "What was it you wanted to talk about?"
Logan's face became solemn. "First… I'm sorry 'bout the claws thing. I should've told ya a long time ago."
"Yes, you should."
"I didn't want ya to be afraid of me. I know keepin' that information from ya only made things worse in the end," he said, and pointed at the three gashes on the wall. "I'm gonna fix that as soon as I come back."
"Come back from where, Logan?"
"That's the second thing I need to tell ya. The X-Men got a mission tonight; it's important. The whole team's goin', except for flyboy. So ya call him if ya need anythin', okay?"
"Why are you telling me this?"
"'Cause I don't know how long it'll take us to finish it."
The telepath's eyes widened as she realized the meaning of his words. "You… you don't know if you're coming back."
Wolverine stared back at her, dead serious. "We're comin' back, darlin', I promise ya. I've gotta a daughter to meet soon."
In one move, Jean leaped at him and hugged him tightly against her frame. "Promise me you'll be careful, Logan."
The man hugged her back, surprised, and smelled her hair. He had to stand back now, or he wouldn't have the strength to ever leave her side. "I promise ya, darlin'. Don't ya worry 'bout me."
Jean nodded slowly and let go of him, sitting back on the bed. Logan gave her a small smile and stood up. "I gotta go, Jeannie. Ya take care of both of ya."
A/N: Because at some point, Scott and Jean had to meet.
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