Chapter 2
"JEAN!" Scott hollered. He waited a moment and when his wife did not appear he let out another wail of, "JEEEEEAN!"
A few moments later Jean stumbled through their bedroom door, panting and out of breath. The look on her face showed she was expecting to find Scott sprawled on the floor bleeding by the way he was hollering. "Good lord honey, what's the yelling for? Are you all right?"
"I'm hungry," he replied matter-of-factly.
For a moment Jean looked as if she might pick him up and give him something to holler about. Scaring her to death like that! She only sighed and shook her head before asking, "What would you like?"
Scott thought for a moment. "Scrambled eggs and bacon. And some coffee. Can I have grape jelly with my toast?"
"Of course dear," Jean smirked and turned to go to the kitchen. It hadn't even been a day since Scott had gotten hurt and he was already beginning to show signs of boredom and cabin-fever. She hoped she'd survive this.
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Down the hall Logan sat up with a start when he heard someone hollering. "Time . . . " he muttered, straining to look at his clock. The digital display read 8:02. I'm going to kill One-eye. Just one claw should do it. He contemplated dropping back to his pillow and going back to sleep but figured since he was already awake he might as well get up. Raking his hand through his hair he realized going to bed with it wet was probably not a good idea. He got up and stood in front of the mirror. Sure enough his hair was sticking out in all different directions. His face had sleep lines on it and he was sure the white, crusty, patch stuck to the corner of his mouth was drool. Stumbling, he managed to grab a pair of jeans and a shirt and stumble into the bathroom. He blinked and regretted it. His head still hurt, and the movement amplified the pain behind his eyes. Hope a shower gets rid of this headache. Logan adjusted the water and hopped in the shower hoping his whole day wasn't going to be driven by the pain in his head.
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"He's called for me three times," Jean sighed over her mug of coffee. "And he's only been awake for an hour and a half."
"Well you know they say men do make the worst patients," Storm chuckled. "Especially the ones who don't get sick or injured often..but when they do they make it out to be like the world is coming to an end."
"Oh I hear that. When Scott had laryngitis last winter . . . you'd think his not being able to talk would keep him quiet but he had me hopping. He's absolutely HORRID when he's sick."
Both women looked up when Logan stumbled into the kitchen.
"My, you're up quite early, Logan," Storm smiled. "Should we consider this a rare treat?"
The only response she got was a grunt as he snatched a mug and headed for the coffee maker. Jean glanced at Storm.
"Since when do you drink coffee, Logan?" She asked.
Logan turned around as he sipped the bland mixture. It caught him off guard, as Jean was right. He never drank coffee. "Since–*cough* this morning–*cough*," he replied as he attempted to catch his breath.
Jean eyed him suspiciously. "Are you all right?"
Bristling a bit at her question, Logan merely replied with a gruff, "Fine." He laced his fingers behind the mug and left to go watch TV in the other room.
"That was interesting," Storm replied.
Jean nodded. She was about to say something when another "JEAN!" sounded from down the hall.
Storm chuckled and winked. "Good luck," she called as Jean removed herself from the table with a sigh.
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"Here," Scott thrust a stack of papers into Jean's hand. "This is a schedule."
"A schedule for what?" Jean questioned.
"For the Danger Room. I want everyone to keep up with training."
"This is what you hollered to me for?" she said tersely.
Scott fell back. "Well I'm sorry if I want things to run smoothly while I'm out of commission. Magneto might be in prison again, but we still need to keep on top of things."
"I know dear, but we'll handle it. Everything is going to be fine."
He couldn't help sighing again as he leaned back against the pillows. Being immobilized bothered him. He knew full well that without him to nag them, no one would be in the danger room. They probably looked at this as a vacation.
"You look tired," Jean smiled sympathetically.
She was right. Scott was tired and his ankle had begun to bother him again. The pills she'd given him had worn off. He gave a large yawn and nodded. Jean kissed his forehead and went to get him some more aspirin. He took the pills without complaint and shortly there after fell asleep. Smiling as she tucked the blanket around him, Jean gave her husband a quick kiss on the cheek and exited the room.
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Logan was standing in the kitchen fighting with the top on an aspirin bottle, unknowing that he was being watched. Growling, he tried to stick the bottle in his mouth and pry the lid off. When this didn't work, he put it on the floor and tried to step on it. He jumped a mile when Storm appeared at his side and gently took the bottle.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly. With a slight twist of the cap and a flick of her thumb, the lid popped off. She handed the bottle back to Logan.
Logan stared at it and crinkled his eyes in annoyance. He followed this up with a wince. It had caused his head to throb once again. "I have a headache."
Storm looked at him with concern. "Are you not feeling well?"
Logan dodged her outstretched hand as she tried to feel his forehead. "I'm fine. I can't get sick, remember?" He turned his attention to the bottle, unsure of how many pills he should take. The label said the recommended dosage was two, but he wasn't sure that would put a dent in his aching head.
"Well something must be wrong," Storm continued. "I've never seen you take aspirin before."
He was tired of being badgered. It was making his head hurt more. Reluctantly he popped two of the pills into his mouth, snapped the lid on and retreated from Storm's scrutinizing looks. She followed him as he entered the hallway but stopped when he went into his room.
"Jean," Storm spoke as she caught Jean coming out of her own room. "I think maybe you should speak to Logan."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I'm not sure," the white-haired woman shook her head. "But I just found him in the kitchen taking aspirin. He said he had a headache."
"Hmm. I'll check on him in a bit," Jean replied.
Storm nodded, seemingly satisfied that Jean would make sure Logan was all right. She smiled and went to grade the term papers that her students had handed in yesterday.
Jean made a move toward Logan's room but was assaulted by yet another holler of her name. She sighed and went back into her own bedroom.
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With the snow falling all night there was a good 2 feet covering the ground. As many of the children had discovered, this was the kind of snow that was just right for making snowballs. So when a crowd of young mutants, as well as Bobby, Rogue, Gambit and Kurt tracked into the mansion late that afternoon with white powder adorning their hair and snow clothes, Storm couldn't help but chuckle.
"You all look like you had quite the time," she remarked, helping some of the smaller children remove their wet jackets, gloves, and boots.
"It be great fun out der Miss Storm," Gambit grinned. "Gambit tink Miss Storm should play next time."
"It was fun!" a young girl named Ashley squealed. "Bobby made alots of snowballs fly at us!"
Storm chuckled. "Well it sounds like fun. Maybe I will play next time. But for now, who wants hot chocolate? I believe Jean has mugs ready for all of us in the kitchen."
Her response generated a thunderous herd of small children, as well as Gambit, Kurt, Bobby and Rogue, skittering down the hall to the kitchen. Storm had to jump out of the way to avoid being tackled.
"Hey where's Logan?" Rogue suddenly asked. "I 'aven't seen him all day. Come ta think of it, I 'aven't seen him since he put the tree up las' night."
Jean winced. "Oh no. I completely forgot about him."
Rogue raised an eyebrow. "Where is he?"
"Still in his bedroom I suppose." Jean felt horrible for forgetting she'd promised Storm she'd check on Logan.
"Well since dinnah is almos' readeh..I'll go and let him know," Rogue drawled. She grabbed a mug and headed down the hall, knocking gently on Logan's door when she reached it.
She waited and got no response. Slowly she turned the knob, and surprisingly the door opened. She peeked her head around the door. "Logan?" she whispered.
Logan was sprawled out on his bed, appearing to be asleep. Unbeknownst to anyone else, he'd been there since speaking with Storm in the kitchen earlier that morning.
"Logan?" Rogue whispered again, tip-toeing toward the bed. Remembering what had happened the last time, she was cautious. "Logan shugah, dinnah's almos' readeh."
Stirring, Logan responded with a low groan and a growl. He stretched his arms out. The aspirin hadn't helped. His head still ached, and now the rest of his body decided to have a contest to see which could ache more.
"Are you all right?"
Logan's voice stuck in his throat but he finally managed to spit out, "Yeah kid, I'm fine."
"Well ever'one's waitin downstairs. You comin down for dinnah?"
"Yeah..just..give me a minute."
Rogue hesitated for a moment, but then slowly turned and headed back to the kitchen.
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Once Rogue had gone, Logan managed to sit himself up. His arms and legs felt like they'd been weighted down with lead. He felt unnaturally warm as well and there was an odd sensation in the back of his throat. When he stumbled past the mirror he nearly fell back as he caught a glimpse of himself. For the second time that day his hair was on end and his face had a mark from where he'd fallen asleep against his watch. Now he was a faint shade of white, and his cheeks carried the familiar crimson color that indicated a fever. How could he go down to dinner looking like this? Not that he felt much like eating, but he knew if he didn't put in an appearance someone would come looking for him and undoubtedly start fussing. He grabbed a comb and managed to tame his hair. Now to tackle his face. What's that stuff the girls always use? Creeping out into the hall he headed for Jean's room, hoping to find some of whatever it is she used on her face. He stopped abruptly, remembering that Scott was currently occupying the bedroom. Changing direction, he headed toward the room Rogue shared with two other female occupants at the mansion. Creeping ever so quietly and trying not to make any unnecessary noise, as well as not aggravate his angry body, he snuck into the bathroom and began picking through bottles. He smiled triumphantly at finding what he needed. Boy, I'd never live this down if anyone saw me putting on MAKE-UP! At first he tried dabbing the gunk on in small amounts but it did nothing to cover his red and white complexion. By the time he'd finished he'd used half of the bottle and his face was so liberally covered he could barely move to talk for fear the mask would crack. It was a far cry from how he normally looked, and he'd managed to get some of it in his sideburns, but he hoped at least that it would get him through dinner.
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He managed to slip quietly into place just as Jean was returning from the kitchen after bringing dinner to Scott. Throughout the meal he tried to keep his head down, pretending to be clearly engrossed in his plate. He hardly ate any of his meal and instead pushed it around his plate and took meager bites whenever he felt someone was looking at him. When he was just about free and clear, Storm decided to make idle chit-chat.
"Logan, you are awfully quiet tonight," she commented.
"Uh....yeah," he tried to sound gruff. It did nothing for his throat and almost set him coughing. "Tired."
"You've been sleeping all day," Jean broke in.
"Didn't sleep well last night," Logan replied quickly. His face was beginning to feel very warm, and he sensed sweat beads starting to dot his forehead. He neglected to read the bottle, but he was fairly certain that the stuff plastered on his face was not sweat-proof.
"Are you sure you're all right?"
Logan forced another bite of food in his mouth and tried to act as much like himself as he could. "Why does everyone keep asking me if I'm ok? Do I look any different than I usually do?" As soon as the snide remark left his mouth he regretted it. Especially when he remembered that one of the people staring at him was a telepath. She could probably see right through him. "Well, if you'll all excuse me. He quickly removed himself from the table and exited the room.
"Ok Storm," Jean spoke. "Logan now has my full attention. Something definitely is not right with him." She abandoned the rest of her dinner and proceeded to follow Logan.
"I have ta agree," Rogue admitted. "Somethin ain't right with him."
Storm nodded. "Maybe I should go help Jean. She's had a rough day with Scott and all."
The others all shrugged and began to set about cleaning up the remains from dinner.
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Logan stumbled into his room and sat on his bed. He felt like someone had lit a match underneath him. The room grew unbearably warm, very quickly. He fumbled with the buttons on his shirt and discovered shaking and uncooperative hands. What's going on? This isn't right. He needed to get to the bathroom. The room was spinning. His eyes doubled and his vision swam. As he stood up he was overcome with a wave of dizziness. His eyes rolled back in his head as he collapsed and lurched forward, striking just above his right eye against the corner of the night stand. The lamp wobbled and fell to the floor with a loud crash.
Out in the hall, Jean and Storm were talking when they heard the crash from Logan's room. Both of them turned and ran, pushing the door open.
"Logan!" Jean called out. "Logan where are you?" She flicked the wall switch to light up the room and caught a glimpse of one of Logan's feet on the floor. Hurrying around to the other side of the bed, she dropped to her knees with Storm close behind. "Help me roll him."
Storm nodded, her eyes wide. She knew the moment her hands touched Logan's body that something was wrong.
"He's burning up," Jean spoke. She too could feel the heat radiating off of him. "Go and get Hank. We need to get him downstairs."
Storm had only moved this fast a few times in her life. Hurrying down the lower level hallway she began calling out, "Hank! Hank, come quick! We need you!"
To her relief the doors opened and Henry McCoy, also a doctor at the mansion, appeared out of the medlab. "My dear Ororo, what is all the fuss about?"
"We need you, quick, "Storm breathed heavily. "It's Logan."
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When Henry and Storm returned to Logan's room, a crowd had gathered outside. As Hank made his way to where Jean was kneeling on the floor trying to bring Logan around, Storm managed to control the crowd by ushering them back to their rooms or the living room and assuring them that the situation was being taken care of.
"We need to get him downstairs. Now." Jean's voice was edged with worry.
Henry picked Logan up with no problem and began carrying him to the medlab.
Rogue watched, her mouth opening and closing. "I need to go...with him."
Grabbing her gloved hand, Bobby held her. "Rogue they'll take care of him. You should stay here. Getting in the way won't help Logan."
She wasn't comforted by this and squirmed away from his grasp. "You don't understand..I need to go."
Bobby watched as she hurried down the hall after the others. His hand dropped to his side and he followed Jubilee and Kitty into the living room.
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The scene in the medlab was hectic. Rogue tried to stay out of the way, but she wanted nothing more than to run to the man who'd become like an older brother to her. Jean and Hank were busy hooking Logan up to all sorts of machines.
"His fever is 105," Jean noted. "And climbing."
Hank started an IV in one of Logan's arms and began injecting various medications into it. Jean was applying electrodes to his chest and after a few moments the machine began to beep.
"Heart-rate is good," Hank said as he looked at the machine. No sooner had he spoke than the machine began to beep erratically.
"Temperature's up to 106!" Jean called out, moving quickly around the table.
"Storm please get us all the ice you can find, as well as plastic bags," Hank said, rather calmly given the situation.
Storm nodded and quickly hurried from the main room as Jean placed a cold washcloth on Logan's forehead. "He's seizing!"
Tears began to stream down Rogue's face. What was going on? She breathed heavily as Logan's body began to convulse on the metal table. Hank and Jean worked quickly, injecting more medicine into the IV.
Jean stared directly into Hank's eyes. "We need to get his fever down...and fast."
Thankfully Storm returned, stopping almost dead as she saw the scene unfolding in front of her. She shrugged if off and hurried to the table.
"Pack it under his arms and around his legs," Jean ordered as she hurried to grab more cloths. While Storm began packing Logan's body in ice, Hank continued to watch the monitor, which was still beeping erratically.
Rogue sank to the floor. She covered her hands with her eyes.
"Seizures are subsiding," Hank breathed a sigh of relief.
Jean glanced at the monitor and then at the thermometer in her hand. "Heart-rate is stabilizing and his temperature is down to 105.5."
Looking up, Rogue sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. There seemed to be a mutual sigh of relief that went through the room.
"What do we do now?" Storm asked.
Jean looked from Storm to Hank and then back to Logan. "We wait...and pray. He's not out of the woods yet...and it's going to be a long night."
Everyone looked around at the others in the room. They knew that there would be no easy rest that night until Logan came back to them. They settled into chairs or empty beds to sleep, at least one person staying awake to keep watch through the night, hoping that Logan would wake up soon.