AN: Thanks everyone who reviewed! Screamin-psiren and Starfish, and Helena and ZOTRM.... good job. You get a cookie. Or a zombie.
I'm putting up two chapters right now because I got so many responses to my Mary Sue question and the last one was just so dang short. I'm always reading the reviews (I can't get enough good press! *wynk wynk*) so keep me updated on what you think and if you see any typos. BTW, the next one is going to be longer.
As Kurt teleported to Ororo's and then the Professor's door, Logan surveyed the mutant lying on the floor. For a second he had thought it was Sabertooth, but when the hat came off, he knew it wasn't. In the split-second between the fall and the landing he had nearly pulled out the claws, but something had stopped him. Had he released his claws, it probably would have killed the mutant.
He partially lifted the prone mutant. It was male, as far as he could see. A pair of large slacks was the only clothes he was wearing under the trench coat. A bandage was wrapped around his back and shoulder, but it had slipped somehow and now blood was running down his side. Logan gave a heave, and got the mutant in an upright position, leaning against him. He panted; he would probably have to carry this one all the way down to the medical room. A flash of pain went through him: they could have really used Jean for something like this.
There was a noise in front of him. The professor pushed his chair down the hallway, as Ororo and Scott trotted behind. He frowned at the mutant in Logan's arms as Scott came to help him. Ever since Jean's death Scott had become a little quieter, a little more helpful. Ororo helped them wrestle the mutant out of the trench coat, and then examined the wound with patient nurse's fingers.
"Professor?" she said, casting a glance back at him.
"I think I know who he is," Charles Xavier said cautiously. "But I wasn't aware that he looked quite like this."
Storm's finger lit upon a familiar circular shaped scar on the back of the mutant's neck. She peered closer. "He's got the scar from Striker's mind control fluid," she said.
Just then Kurt showed up, with a sleepy-eyed Bobby. "Vhat?"
"It's older than yours, Kurt," she went on. "I'd say at least a few months."
"Zhen he is no longer under its control," Kurt said. "I… it vas only used on me a few times." There was a pause, because he didn't talk about the Striker experience very often. Kurt himself broke the silence, gesturing to Bobby. "I zhought zhat ve might need a little more help carrying him," he explained. The kid's eyes widened at the burly furred mutant, but he moved over to help. He had become more mature since Pyro left, almost a full-time member of the X-Men.
"Why can't you just jump him down, 'Crawler?" asked Logan in a strained voice. "He's getting kinda heavy."
"It's not a good idea to move those that are unconscious," Professor Xavier said. "Kurt and I have discussed this."
"Right," grimaced Logan. Kurt and Bobby took up some more of the mutant's weight, but he was still a heavily muscled man, accent on heavy.
They got him down to the medical room, grunting and sweating, and manhandled him up on the table. The cool metal made the mutant shift and groan slightly. Storm looked at the Professor. "He's waking up."
Sure enough, the large eyes blinked open, revealing dark brown slightly animalistic orbs. They landed on Storm first, then glanced at the others. At the sight of Kurt they widened, but at Logan they narrowed, as if the mutant was trying to remember something. Finally he looked at Professor Xavier.
"I knew it wasn't a good idea to come," he said quietly, the deep cultured voice rolling out of his mouth. "She knew that, too. But here we are anyway."
"Doctor McCoy," started Xavier, but the mutant shook his head.
"Call me Hank, or Beast," he said, a pain-tightened smile crossing his face. He shifted and winced at the movement. "Don't you have a resident doctor here?" he asked, glancing around again.
The others exchanged glances. "Jean Gray is no longer with us," Xavier said finally.
Hank McCoy's eyes flickered from Ororo's moist eyes to Scott's averted face to Logan's stoic one. He nodded slightly. "I see. Is one of you trained in any medical profession?"
Ororo stepped forward slightly. "I am a registered nurse," she said.
He nodded. "Good. I'm going to need you to stitch up my shoulder. My assistant didn't have time to. You're going to have to shave around the injury first. Can you do that?" She nodded, and turned to prepare sterile equipment.
"Your assistant?" Xavier pressed. "Will he be joining us?"
"She," Hank corrected. "No. Laurel will need to be in New York to present my findings at the press conference the day after tomorrow. She had to drop me off here and leave quickly for a number of reasons."
"Laurel?" asked the Professor. "Laurel DuCrais?" He shared a glance with Storm, and then his eyes flickered to Scott.
"Do you know her?" Hank asked. "I was aware that Herr Wagner here did; she mentioned him a few times. She said little of the school."
"I do know her," he replied. "Ororo has met her, as well. She is Jean Gray's older cousin. We met when she was in her teens---she helped build the school. I was not aware that she had been working with you."
"Only for the past two years or so," Hank said. "We met under….interesting circumstances."
"She seems to do that," Logan muttered.
Hank shifted his gaze over to Logan as Storm started stitching his shoulder. A slight tightening around the eyes was all he showed of the pain. "Ah. Yes. Logan. If you knew what you have put her through these twenty years…."
This got everyone's attention but Kurt's. "Twenty?" Logan asked. "But it's only been eighteen since I-escaped."
"Counting the year when you disappeared and the time that she found you," Hank said, gritting his teeth as Storm continued.
"What??" Logan was about to tear someone apart with his bare hands unless he got some complete answers. Professor Xavier looked up at Logan.
"You're---why did I never guess?" he sighed, and sank lower in his chair. "I heard that a childhood friend was missing and she had gone to look for him, but I never compared that with you…. It was so long ago, and I never knew her friend's name. I haven't seen her for a few years."
Logan gaped at the professor, surprised to hear hesitation in the man's voice. That was coming from an unexpected source. "Don't worry, Chuck," he heard himself say. "I think you were a little stressed at the time."
"People are often stressed when they're discussing Laurel," Hank rumbled, amusement in his voice.
Logan's gaze shot right back to the furry man. His consolation did not apply to this McCoy, stitches or no. "What's going on here? I want answers, and I want them now." The last word was growled low, and his fists clenched, just aching to get out his claws.
Hank blinked. "I'm sorry; I'm not usually this off-putting," he said in a gentler voice. "Getting attacked will do that to one, as I'm sure you all have experienced. I will give you what little information I have about you, Logan," he added, turning to him. "But I'm only able to contact Laurel after the press conference the day after tomorrow. She doesn't believe in cell phones," he said disgustedly. "I wish she would." He nodded at a nearby chair, and Logan sat down. Kurt stood at one shoulder and Scott at another.
"Your name is Logan Contreras. If you have a middle name, I don't know it. You are two years older than Laurel, who refuses to give her full age, but is probably closer to forty-five or fifty. Your birthday is the seventeenth of April, and she celebrates it every year. You were childhood friends growing up, and then you joined up with the army after graduating high school and disappeared. She began the search for you and ended up in contact with General Stryker's men somehow. She doesn't speak of that, but I suspect that she was in the mutant testing facility at least once. After that period of about two years, you were both free again, and the search for you resumed. She has been over the globe a few times and has met many mutants. But she's still looking for you."
"In contact," Logan repeated silently. "You meant she worked with him?"
Hank raised an eyebrow. "If she did, she found whatever he was doing extremely tasteless. When she heard that a dam had blown in Canada, she went up there to find him, and I quote, 'dance upon his grave, so help me God'. Whenever his name is mentioned her eyes go cold and hard, and she still clenches her jaw when mutant testing is talked about."
"Did she know I was a mutant?" Logan asked, rubbing his knuckles with his free hand. "Did she know about these?" He shot out his claws, making Hank peer closer with interest.
"Fascinating," the Beast said, reaching out with his free hand and tapping one of the claws with one of his own. "Adamantium? Are those free-standing or bonded to a bone structure?" He slowly became aware of the others' stares. "Ahem. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I don't know about those claws of yours. But I believe she knew you were a mutant, because at one point she had said something along the lines of knowing the extent of a healing mutant factor." Ororo had finished the stitching, and Hank's eyes were drooping. "I'm sorry, I believe I find myself a little under the weather right now," he said, placing a hand behind him on the table to steady himself. "Can we continue this conversation tomorrow?"
To everyone's great surprise Logan nodded. "Sure. But I'd like to hear how you met her as soon as possible. Anything you can tell me. In the meantime, I'm going to continue to pump the elf here." He jerked a thumb at Kurt, who started in surprise.
They moved forward to help shift Hank to the other, movable hospital bed so he wouldn't have to spend the night on the cold table. As everyone moved out of the medical room, Kurt turned to him. "Ah, Logan," he started hesitantly, but Logan grinned slightly, shocking everyone again.
"Go to bed, Kurt," he said lightly.
Now Charles Xavier was worried: this was the happiest he had ever seen Logan. As soon as it hit him, he was ready to freeze him in his tracks so that no one would get hurt. At the least he expected him to be tense and prickly. He reached out his mind and caught the tail end of that thought. Logan was still tense, so tightly wound it was probable he would not sleep tonight. But what Charles heard made him smile a little as well.
"Go back to bed, Kurt, either hers or yours, I don't care. I have a last name. And a birthday!"
~Did I spell Stryker's name right?
I'm putting up two chapters right now because I got so many responses to my Mary Sue question and the last one was just so dang short. I'm always reading the reviews (I can't get enough good press! *wynk wynk*) so keep me updated on what you think and if you see any typos. BTW, the next one is going to be longer.
As Kurt teleported to Ororo's and then the Professor's door, Logan surveyed the mutant lying on the floor. For a second he had thought it was Sabertooth, but when the hat came off, he knew it wasn't. In the split-second between the fall and the landing he had nearly pulled out the claws, but something had stopped him. Had he released his claws, it probably would have killed the mutant.
He partially lifted the prone mutant. It was male, as far as he could see. A pair of large slacks was the only clothes he was wearing under the trench coat. A bandage was wrapped around his back and shoulder, but it had slipped somehow and now blood was running down his side. Logan gave a heave, and got the mutant in an upright position, leaning against him. He panted; he would probably have to carry this one all the way down to the medical room. A flash of pain went through him: they could have really used Jean for something like this.
There was a noise in front of him. The professor pushed his chair down the hallway, as Ororo and Scott trotted behind. He frowned at the mutant in Logan's arms as Scott came to help him. Ever since Jean's death Scott had become a little quieter, a little more helpful. Ororo helped them wrestle the mutant out of the trench coat, and then examined the wound with patient nurse's fingers.
"Professor?" she said, casting a glance back at him.
"I think I know who he is," Charles Xavier said cautiously. "But I wasn't aware that he looked quite like this."
Storm's finger lit upon a familiar circular shaped scar on the back of the mutant's neck. She peered closer. "He's got the scar from Striker's mind control fluid," she said.
Just then Kurt showed up, with a sleepy-eyed Bobby. "Vhat?"
"It's older than yours, Kurt," she went on. "I'd say at least a few months."
"Zhen he is no longer under its control," Kurt said. "I… it vas only used on me a few times." There was a pause, because he didn't talk about the Striker experience very often. Kurt himself broke the silence, gesturing to Bobby. "I zhought zhat ve might need a little more help carrying him," he explained. The kid's eyes widened at the burly furred mutant, but he moved over to help. He had become more mature since Pyro left, almost a full-time member of the X-Men.
"Why can't you just jump him down, 'Crawler?" asked Logan in a strained voice. "He's getting kinda heavy."
"It's not a good idea to move those that are unconscious," Professor Xavier said. "Kurt and I have discussed this."
"Right," grimaced Logan. Kurt and Bobby took up some more of the mutant's weight, but he was still a heavily muscled man, accent on heavy.
They got him down to the medical room, grunting and sweating, and manhandled him up on the table. The cool metal made the mutant shift and groan slightly. Storm looked at the Professor. "He's waking up."
Sure enough, the large eyes blinked open, revealing dark brown slightly animalistic orbs. They landed on Storm first, then glanced at the others. At the sight of Kurt they widened, but at Logan they narrowed, as if the mutant was trying to remember something. Finally he looked at Professor Xavier.
"I knew it wasn't a good idea to come," he said quietly, the deep cultured voice rolling out of his mouth. "She knew that, too. But here we are anyway."
"Doctor McCoy," started Xavier, but the mutant shook his head.
"Call me Hank, or Beast," he said, a pain-tightened smile crossing his face. He shifted and winced at the movement. "Don't you have a resident doctor here?" he asked, glancing around again.
The others exchanged glances. "Jean Gray is no longer with us," Xavier said finally.
Hank McCoy's eyes flickered from Ororo's moist eyes to Scott's averted face to Logan's stoic one. He nodded slightly. "I see. Is one of you trained in any medical profession?"
Ororo stepped forward slightly. "I am a registered nurse," she said.
He nodded. "Good. I'm going to need you to stitch up my shoulder. My assistant didn't have time to. You're going to have to shave around the injury first. Can you do that?" She nodded, and turned to prepare sterile equipment.
"Your assistant?" Xavier pressed. "Will he be joining us?"
"She," Hank corrected. "No. Laurel will need to be in New York to present my findings at the press conference the day after tomorrow. She had to drop me off here and leave quickly for a number of reasons."
"Laurel?" asked the Professor. "Laurel DuCrais?" He shared a glance with Storm, and then his eyes flickered to Scott.
"Do you know her?" Hank asked. "I was aware that Herr Wagner here did; she mentioned him a few times. She said little of the school."
"I do know her," he replied. "Ororo has met her, as well. She is Jean Gray's older cousin. We met when she was in her teens---she helped build the school. I was not aware that she had been working with you."
"Only for the past two years or so," Hank said. "We met under….interesting circumstances."
"She seems to do that," Logan muttered.
Hank shifted his gaze over to Logan as Storm started stitching his shoulder. A slight tightening around the eyes was all he showed of the pain. "Ah. Yes. Logan. If you knew what you have put her through these twenty years…."
This got everyone's attention but Kurt's. "Twenty?" Logan asked. "But it's only been eighteen since I-escaped."
"Counting the year when you disappeared and the time that she found you," Hank said, gritting his teeth as Storm continued.
"What??" Logan was about to tear someone apart with his bare hands unless he got some complete answers. Professor Xavier looked up at Logan.
"You're---why did I never guess?" he sighed, and sank lower in his chair. "I heard that a childhood friend was missing and she had gone to look for him, but I never compared that with you…. It was so long ago, and I never knew her friend's name. I haven't seen her for a few years."
Logan gaped at the professor, surprised to hear hesitation in the man's voice. That was coming from an unexpected source. "Don't worry, Chuck," he heard himself say. "I think you were a little stressed at the time."
"People are often stressed when they're discussing Laurel," Hank rumbled, amusement in his voice.
Logan's gaze shot right back to the furry man. His consolation did not apply to this McCoy, stitches or no. "What's going on here? I want answers, and I want them now." The last word was growled low, and his fists clenched, just aching to get out his claws.
Hank blinked. "I'm sorry; I'm not usually this off-putting," he said in a gentler voice. "Getting attacked will do that to one, as I'm sure you all have experienced. I will give you what little information I have about you, Logan," he added, turning to him. "But I'm only able to contact Laurel after the press conference the day after tomorrow. She doesn't believe in cell phones," he said disgustedly. "I wish she would." He nodded at a nearby chair, and Logan sat down. Kurt stood at one shoulder and Scott at another.
"Your name is Logan Contreras. If you have a middle name, I don't know it. You are two years older than Laurel, who refuses to give her full age, but is probably closer to forty-five or fifty. Your birthday is the seventeenth of April, and she celebrates it every year. You were childhood friends growing up, and then you joined up with the army after graduating high school and disappeared. She began the search for you and ended up in contact with General Stryker's men somehow. She doesn't speak of that, but I suspect that she was in the mutant testing facility at least once. After that period of about two years, you were both free again, and the search for you resumed. She has been over the globe a few times and has met many mutants. But she's still looking for you."
"In contact," Logan repeated silently. "You meant she worked with him?"
Hank raised an eyebrow. "If she did, she found whatever he was doing extremely tasteless. When she heard that a dam had blown in Canada, she went up there to find him, and I quote, 'dance upon his grave, so help me God'. Whenever his name is mentioned her eyes go cold and hard, and she still clenches her jaw when mutant testing is talked about."
"Did she know I was a mutant?" Logan asked, rubbing his knuckles with his free hand. "Did she know about these?" He shot out his claws, making Hank peer closer with interest.
"Fascinating," the Beast said, reaching out with his free hand and tapping one of the claws with one of his own. "Adamantium? Are those free-standing or bonded to a bone structure?" He slowly became aware of the others' stares. "Ahem. Sorry." He cleared his throat. "I don't know about those claws of yours. But I believe she knew you were a mutant, because at one point she had said something along the lines of knowing the extent of a healing mutant factor." Ororo had finished the stitching, and Hank's eyes were drooping. "I'm sorry, I believe I find myself a little under the weather right now," he said, placing a hand behind him on the table to steady himself. "Can we continue this conversation tomorrow?"
To everyone's great surprise Logan nodded. "Sure. But I'd like to hear how you met her as soon as possible. Anything you can tell me. In the meantime, I'm going to continue to pump the elf here." He jerked a thumb at Kurt, who started in surprise.
They moved forward to help shift Hank to the other, movable hospital bed so he wouldn't have to spend the night on the cold table. As everyone moved out of the medical room, Kurt turned to him. "Ah, Logan," he started hesitantly, but Logan grinned slightly, shocking everyone again.
"Go to bed, Kurt," he said lightly.
Now Charles Xavier was worried: this was the happiest he had ever seen Logan. As soon as it hit him, he was ready to freeze him in his tracks so that no one would get hurt. At the least he expected him to be tense and prickly. He reached out his mind and caught the tail end of that thought. Logan was still tense, so tightly wound it was probable he would not sleep tonight. But what Charles heard made him smile a little as well.
"Go back to bed, Kurt, either hers or yours, I don't care. I have a last name. And a birthday!"
~Did I spell Stryker's name right?
