The Lady, the Leader and the Bump in the Road
Part Five/?
Author: Nefret24
Disclaimers and notes, see parts 1 -4. Oh yeah, and Logan FINALLY appears. I wasn't lying- hah.
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The MedLab
9:13 am
Jean approached the man's body, her heels tapping on the hard floor of the lab. The first class of the day was three quarters over by now, she guessed, setting down a tray with syringes and cotton swabs. It had been a long morning so far, and she silently thanked the Professor for his block scheduling: at least she wouldn't have to teach class today.
She had spent a couple hours running the girl through the standard tests, physical and psychological and was still processing the data. As the computer would configure the limitations of the girl's mutation, Jean decided to check in on her other patient.
He was a far more intriguing and unknown entity. Self-healing? Well, it seemed to be true. For all the girl's talk about barroom brawls, there wasn't so much a scratch on him. He seemed to be perfectly healthy, though not awake yet. A fine physical specimen, she appraised clinically, eyeing his muscle mass. A bit hairy, but not without its charms. No wonder the girl seemed so taken in with her companion.
She crossed to his opposite side out of habit, always working on the left, non-dominant side. She lifted his arm and ran her fingers curiously over his knuckles. Spikes from between his fingers? Wasn't that what the girl had said? She had never heard of a mutation like that and she certainly didn't feel anything underneath the skin, no protrusions, no marks, no scarring
How was that possible?!
With no effort, she tk-ed a syringe and some gauze to herself, shaking off her amazement. There was no place for it here and now; she was a doctor and she had ought to do her work. She had neglected him for far too long and she hoped that his sleep was natural and without repercussions. But even as a doctor, professionality waned as wonderment took over. A man who could heal himself. The implications were spell-binding: one could never age, never spoil, never wrinkle, would one even feel much pain?
As her reveries continued, her hands went about the methodical work of preparing a requisite blood sample. Would she even be able to puncture the skin? Or would the small prick seal up automatically?
Caught up in her thoughts, it took her by surprise when the hand squeezed her throat. Gasping, choking, her hands clutched at his iron grip. She couldn't think, she couldn't speak. She was pressed tightly between his body and the cold metal table- she was overwhelmed with his strength, his closeness to her, the unflinching hand at her throat.
Don't kill me, please don't kill me, please
He let go of her abruptly and bolted out the door. Sinking to the floor, Jean coughed and held her throat, breathing deeply through her nose.
//Professor- the man is awake. And he's violent.//
//Where is he now Jean?//
//I don't know- he's left the MedLab.//
//I'll handle it. When you're ready, please meet me in my office. Bring Ororo and Scott with you.//
//Yes, Professor.//
Still breathing deeply and hesitant to remove her hand, still protectively hovering near her throat, she shrugged out of her lab coat.
//Scott.//
She could feel his confusion: he hated being telepathed to in the middle of a class- he hated having his lectures interrupted so violently that he lost his train of thought. He claimed it made him look like a fool in front of the students, as if he was forever forgetting things.
//Go to the Professor's office after class.// She telepathed quickly, and after brushing herself off and double-checking her appearance, she left the MedLab to find Ororo's history classroom.
Jean got to the room just as the bell rang. Students came rushing out, off to their next class. Ororo smiled as she saw Jean.
"Did you go to sleep yet?" she asked, wiping down the blackboard from her last class.
"No. The Professor would like to see us," Jean replied in a soft voice, as the students began to trickle into the room for second period.
"Okay. Is the man awake?"
Jean nodded affirmative and led the way to the Professor's office. Scott came down the hall after them.
//What's this about, Jean?//
//The new mutant. He's a little high-strung.//
//Can't wait to meet him.// he sarcastically replied over their link, dodging a few young girls dashing into another classroom.
//Promise me something.//
//Anything.//
//Don't be provoked.//
Scott was at a loss how to reply to her request. He followed the women down the hall and kept silent. As if I can be provoked. I'm easy-going most of the time. So the new guy's a bit high-strung. Normal for someone who's just been radically relocated by jet overnight.
He entered the room as the Professor was making introductions.
" and this is Scott Summers, also called Cyclops."
The man appeared to be somewhat skeptical. He raised a very hairy eyebrow and pointed a finger at Ororo. "Storm. Cyclops," he repeated, disdain dripping with every word. Like I don't know that it's a stupid name or heard that one too many times already. Hell, even Jean's been known to snicker at it and it was her idea!
"Whadda they call you, Wheels?"
Well, that's just disrespectful. Scott cultivated a poker face as the Professor continued to explain what for all of them was normal, everyday facts: the school was filled with mutant children, Magneto was an evil mutant with whom to be reckoned yadda yadda yadda. He tried to concentrate on what he was going to show the kids in Shop once he left the impromptu conference.
The man seemed fairly fed up. He was approaching the door. Well, until the Professor says so, good luck, buddy, cuz you have to get through me.
"Cyclops, right?" he hissed nastily. God he has bad breath. Grabbing Scott's shirt, he pulled him forward, the better to throw him across the room. "Mind getting out of my way?"
Scott repressed an instinct to fight back. Not only because of Jean's earlier warning and his promise, but he somehow believed that he would be hard pressed in hand to hand combat with the stranger. He was very large. He satisfied himself with a glare over the man's shoulder at Jean, who was at the Professor's side. //This is what you call a little high-strung?!//
"It's been ten years, hasn't it, Logan?"
The man's (Logan's?) grip slackened and he whirled around on the Professor with a snarled "Shut up!" He seemed feral, out of control. One hell of an understatement, Jean.
//Thank you, Scott. That was very manly of you.//
//You owe me. Big time.//
//Later, hotpants.//
TBC