Author: Logan Berry
Summary: Jean travels to Muire island seeking help from Hank McCoy in analysing Kaylan's frozen gene. Meanwhile Logan makes a break-through in tracing Kaylan's attackers.
Rating/warning & pairing: PG-13 language
Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to any Marvel Characters. Kaylan O'Connor is a fictional character and is owned by the above author.
I have absolutely no knowledge of genetics or biology, so the references in this chapter have no real basis in science, they are just the musings of a confused and twisted mind….anyone wishing to correct me on the technicalities, please feel free.
Feedback very welcome
ooooooooooooooooo
Jean sank back into the leather of the plane seat.
"Can I get you anything Ms. Gray?" The fixed smile of a smartly dressed flight attendant stared down at her.
"No, thank you, not just at the moment."
The attendant smiled again and headed for the back of the plane. Jean turned to look down at the seat next to her. Placed carefully on it sat a large black flight-case. On its side in bold black print with bright yellow background, a Biohazard sticker told of its content. After several telephone conversations between Hank and HM Customs, the airport authorities had given permission for Jean to fly the case back to Westchester without the long-winded checks usually reserved for cases of this nature. She smiled to herself. "I don't know how he does it? He's such a charmer."
As the engines of the small private jet rumbled into life, Jean looked out of the window across the tarmac to the sprawling airport concourse. There at the far end of the terminal building a lone figure stood; wrapped in a long trench coat, scarf and a wide-brimmed trilby pulled down over his face. Hank had risked much to accompany her to the airport, but he would not listen to her gentle protests as he helped her onto the ferry at the islands private jetty.
Thank-you Hank, I'll call you when I'm home
She watched as Hank raised a hand to the glass in acknowledgment of her telepathic message. As the plane taxied for the runway, Jean strapped herself in and rested the back of her head against the seat. She ran her hand up onto the top of the case, satisfied that her busy week had been a success.
oooooooooooooooo
"Fascinating, undeniably fascinating." Hank pulled off his half-moon spectacles, unconsciously placing the end of one of the arms in his mouth and biting down; preoccupied by what he had seen through the microscope.
"Well, my dear I am quite frankly confounded by this particular conundrum you have presented me with." He announced, turning to Jean who sat next to him at the counter in the vast laboratory. "But I am most confident that we will be able to unlock the secrets of this enigma without any great labors." He added smiling, revealing a row of sharp white teeth.
Her journey to the Centre for Genetic Research on Muire island had been uneventful; flying into Glasgow international airport, and then from their by car to Oban where she caught the private island ferry. She was fatigued from the hours of traveling, but insisted on setting aside pleasantries with her old friend to show him the sample of Kaylan's blood. The complexities of the frozen x-gene had piqued Hank's insatiable appetite for all things of a biological nature and already his mind was working on solving the problem.
"Well Jean, all the samples are ready for testing, but cometh the hour cometh the man as they say; I'm afraid I can feel the hunger pangs rising, which can only mean that it is time we took some repast. We will have much to do tomorrow and you require rest. Come, I am sure Moira will be waiting with our meal and she is most eager to show you your room." With that, the large blue-furred man hopped off the stool, holding out his arm to show Jean the way.
As they walked together down the myriad, corridors Jean couldn't help but grasp the big man's arm and give it a squeeze. "It's good to be with you again Hank," She smiled. "Even if it is under such circumstances."
"The feeling is mutual Jean, I have missed the mansion and the X-Men, but definitely you most of all." He grinned.
"Oh, you! Flattery will get you every-where" she giggled. "But don't tell Scott that."
"I most certainly will not." He added, feigning a serious tone.
oooooooooooooooo
The next day found the pair busy in the laboratory, using Jean's earlier analysis, the two set about separating samples of the enzyme from Kaylan's blood.
"Jean take a look at this!" Hank yelled, eyes fixed to the microscope as he flailed his hand wildly in Jean's direction.
Jean walked over to where he sat at the counter and peered into the eyepiece at the sample. Under the extreme focus of the lens, Jean could see a cluster of protein molecules that made up the enzyme.
"We need to assess its reaction to genetic material." Hank announced. "Jean, pass me that syringe." Jean unwrapped the sterile item from its packaging and handed it to Hank. Without a thought, he deftly pushed the needle into his forearm and withdrew a sample of blood. "Reintroduce it into the enzyme." He urged as he rubbed the spot on his arm. Jean's steady hand lowered the syringe over the Petri-dish and dropped a single drop of blood onto the clear liquid. Hank fixed his eyes to the microscope again. "Ha-Ha!" He exclaimed. "Just as I thought, look and see."
Jean looked down at the sample, there in the dish the clusters of proteins began to wiggle furiously, attaching themselves to the blood cells and passing through the cell walls. Within seconds, the cells were coated with the quivering proteins.
"But that can't be right Hank, proteins don't 'move' on their own, they need to be mixed into the blood using a centrifuge or the blood-stream."
"Correct they don't move on their own, but I don't think we are dealing with any ordinary cluster of proteins. This enzyme surrounding Kaylan's gene, seems to be 'aware'."
"That's not possible!"
"Well I believe someone has made it possible."
The two geneticists stared at each other; the enormity of what they had discovered gradually sinking in.
"Let us try the same procedure with non-mutant blood." Hank fetched a small vial from the fridge. "This is a sample from one of our human researchers, I am sure he will appreciate the irony of being used as a guinea-pig." Hank replaced the Petri-dish and Jean again dropped a sample of the human blood onto it.
"Nothing." Hank exclaimed. This time the enzyme did not react, floating past the blood cells introduced into its solution. "This enzyme has certainly been engineered to recognise only the blood of mutants. It is attracted by the presence of the x-gene; passing into the blood cells and inhibiting the gene, thus stopping the individual from developing their mutant abilities. It does not require the gene to be active, merely present. This is indeed an incredible piece of genetic engineering."
"I agree Hank, it is quite amazing, but terrible non-the-less." Jean added.
Hank began to make notes on their findings, "We have much to do Jean," he said excitedly, "We have to find a way to detach this enzyme permanently."
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"I think I have it!" Hank exclaimed.
Several days had passed since their first breakthrough. The two were pushed to the limits of their knowledge, but Hank's desire to find a solution drove the pair on. Hour after hour they toiled, only stopping briefly to eat the meals that Moira brought down to the lab; insisting that they needed to keep up their strength, tutting and shaking her head as she left them. "It'll nay b' good fer tha' young lassie ye trin' t' heilp if ye both t' tired t' werk!"
"I think I have finally got the balance just right." He told Jean as she approached the bench. "Look, if I introduce some of the enzyme to this blood sample, and give it a moment, now, when I add the latest batch of the serum."
Jean fixed her weary eyes to the microscope and watched as Hank dropped in a small amount of the solution they had been working on. As she watched, the serum swirled round the blood cells. Adjusting the resolution of the lens, she could see the protein molecules clearly. "Nothing's happening Hank." She muttered, disheartened by yet another failure.
"Just wait a moment more, my dear." He said gently.
"Ooh!" she exclaimed. As she watched, one of the protein clusters popped open, pouring its content into the solution; then another and another, until the whole eyepiece filled with the bursting enzymes, as the serum continued to mix with the sample in the dish.
"Well!" Hank questioned, a smile spreading across his face.
"I think you've cracked it Hank." Jean answered as she rose from the microscope.
"Indeed!" Hank added excitedly. "A few more tests and I think were maybe ready."
The added boost this new discovery brought pushed them on with renewed vigor. By suppertime, six small vials of clear liquid sat out on the bench of the lab, the innocuous substance containing the hope of freedom from the noisome x-gene blocker. All was quiet, as the pair surveyed their achievement.
"I christen thee Latent-X!" Hank announced, raising an empty test-tube to the new serum in salute. "Well Jean, our work here is done." Hank smiled, patting his friend on the shoulder.
Jean sighed, "Thank you so much Hank." She said, turning towards him.
"On the contrary Jean, no thanks necessary, I must thank you for allowing me to work on such a wonderful problem. I am most pleased by the results of our collaboration and hope that it will befit Xavier's god-daughter and hopefully others."
"I think this calls for a celebration, don't you?" She added.
"Yes indeed my dear, I will inform the rest of the staff of our discoveries and arrange a little soiree for this evening. You go freshen up, I will finish off here."
Giving him a brief hug and a peck on the cheek, Jean headed back to her room to change for evening gathering in the laboratory refectory. After a brief phone call to Scott and then to the Professor she wandered down to the dining hall. Having found her way through the congratulating crowd, Jean finally found Hank.
"Ah, my dearest Jean." Too excited to hold himself, Hank took her arm and guided her through the throng, to the side of the room. "I have something else for you to take on your return journey." He pulled from his jacket pocket an envelope. "I had one of the other researchers work on Kaylan's DNA earlier in the week…"
Jean gave him a smirk. "Can't stop yourself can you Hank?" She jokingly chided.
He shook his head and continued. "With your earlier data and the clean sample of Kaylan's blood He identified her mutancy type. Its all in there." He tapped the envelope Jean now held. "I thought Charles would want to know."
Jean smiled and kissed his cheek, "Thank you Hank, I'm sure he will, if we're going to treat her we will need to know."
ooooooooooo
"Ms. Gray?" The voice of the flight attendant woke Jean from her sleep. "Ms. Gray, would you like your dinner now?" The uniformed woman asked.
"Yes please." Jean answered through a yawn. She looked at her watch; four more hours and she would be back home. As she tucked into her evening meal she thought on what the future would hold for Xavier's god-daughter. Would she want to become like them knowing what the change would entail? If she did, how would she deal with her newfound abilities? Jean could only wonder at the daunting decision facing the woman.
ooooooooooooooooooooooooo
The yard gate creaked open inch by inch, as Logan stealthily eased his large frame into the passageway between the house and the neighbouring hedge. It was dark, late evening with a warm breeze just lifting the leaves on the trees. Slowly closing the gate behind him he slide, back to the house wall, to the end of the passage; taking a quick glance around the corner and darting back to check all was clear. It was an automatic reaction; he'd been watching the house all day and knew it was empty. Stepping out into the yard he quickly made his way up the back steps and pulled open the porch door. He knew once inside he would not be seen. Pulling a small black zipped case from his jacket, he opened it and pulled out a fine needle lock pick. Deftly, jiggling it in the lock he listened for that satisfying click that told him he had rolled the barrels into the right place. Twisting the door handle, he slide inside the house.
He had arrived in Utah that day on his latest mission to collect evidence of possible mutant kidnappings. Storm had flown him and his bike to a discreet location some 20 miles from the house. After stashing his ride behind a dumpster two blocks away, he'd found himself a concealed position from where he could watch the property. Now as he stood in the kitchen of the empty dwelling he concentrated on his task.
There was nothing distinctive about the two-story house; brick and wood framed, two bedrooms, living room and kitchen. Logan could sense that the present occupiers had not been home in some time; The bin in the kitchen had not been emptied and old vegetable peeling had rotted, giving off a pungent smell. The house smelt musty and airless. Logan pulled a torch from his back pocket and flicked it on, his modifications to the small flashlight causing it to produced only a faint light; not much use to most people, but with his keen vision it was all Logan needed to aid his task.
Flicking the light across the room, he could discern no object out of place. After scanning the living room he headed into the hallway and up the stairs. Reaching the master bedroom, he pushed open the door.
"Hhmm," he thought at the sight that greeted him, "this don't look like the room o' someone who just went on vacation."
The bed was un-made, as if someone had just got up. But it was more than that; some of the sheets were scattered over the floor, as if the person had been dragged from the bed. On the nightstand, a lamp had been knocked over and a newspaper lay crumpled at its base. Logan picked it up and read the date.
"Three weeks old."
"Storm, ya readin' me."
"Yes Wolverine, what is your current position?" The delicate voice of the weather-witch crackled in his ear-piece.
"I'm on site, looks like we got another one. Think the guy put up a bit o' a struggle, been gone three weeks."
"Bring back anything you can find."
"Will get back t' ya. Out."
Logan crossed the floor of the room and pulled out the case, opened it and placed it on top of the chest of draws under the window. The case was a parting gift from Jean; a small kit she had put together for him to collect samples and evidence from the sites he and Scott were investigating. Pulling out a roll of tape, he lifted a partial fingerprint from the mirror on the dressing table and with the use of tweezers he managed to find a few hairs on the pillow. "She's gonna have missed all the fun o' analysing these samples when she gets back." He mused as he thought on Scott's detailed, and in Logan's eyes, painfully obsessive study of all the samples he'd brought back from various sites.
With nothing more left to do, he packed away his kit and prepared to leave. "Another one gone an' no way o' getting' em back, gotta get a break on this soon." As he flashed his torch around the room one last time, a dark object caught his eye. It would have been all too easy to miss had he not been standing in the right place. Just by the bed, half hidden by the scattered bed sheets was a small black lump. As he carefully pulled back the sheets, several more lumps appeared. Bending to take a closer look Logan realised that these lumps made a pattern on the floor. As he lifted the sheets and threw them onto the bed, more of the lumps appeared. These were more scattered but still recognisable as coming from the same source. As he looked, the pattern became a recognisable image. "Foot print!"
There on the floor was the outline of a large shoe, left in lumps of dirt. But where was the rest? Why were there no signs of it anywhere else in the house? Logan's brow furrowed. The soil must have been wet when the person, most likely the attacker, had walked on it. Then, having dried out, the soil trapped in the tread had come loose and fallen onto the floor of the room. Logan quickly pulled out a test tube from the case and scooped up some of the dirt. Holding it up he pointed the dim beam of the torch onto it. It was a rich ruddy colour breaking up into a fine powder in the test tube. "Hmm, definitely not local farm boys." He thought as he stashed the tube carefully in the case. Gathering his kit he headed out of the house, making sure he left no trace of his presence.
"Storm, get ya jet prepped darlin', we just hit pay-dirt, I'm on ma way back." He growled into his radio-mike as he revved the bike into life.
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"Com' on Ro, don't keep m' in suspense, what ya find?" Logan sat on the counter in the lab, looking down at the white hair of Ororo as she studied the soil sample under the microscope.
"Patience Logan, these things take time. I have yet to do a pH test."
Ro had been most intrigued by Logan's findings and had set about analysing the sample on their return to the mansion. Logan watched as she busied herself preparing the solution that would give her a definitive answer as to where the soil came from. It had been their first major breakthrough since the start of their investigation into the disappearing people and Logan was keen to get answers, especially if it meant finding out who'd attacked Kaylan.
"Found anything Ro?" Scott questioned as he breezed into the lab.
Ororo sighed, "You are both too impatient, please give me a few moments," she asked, shaking the test tube solution in her hands. "Scott please pass me that colour chart over there".
Scott picked up the sheet that contained a blue to red scale. Ro carefully placed the tube into a rack and turned to face the two men. "Now we wait." She announced.
It was impossible to miss the exaggerated sagging of Logan's shoulders and the audible sigh that accompanied it. Ro, ignoring this childlike reaction turned to the computer, pulling up files pertaining to soil analysis. From the colour, texture and particle content already input into the database, she had already identified the soil as coming from somewhere on the South American landmass.
"How long?" Scott queried.
"One more minute". She answered. The two men waited in silence for what seemed to them, ages. "Alright, now we will see." Returning to the rack she raised the tube up to the light. The soil had settled to the bottom leaving a rich red liquid. Ro carefully moved the card behind the tube until she found a match between the two.
"So what we lookin' it?'" Logan asked abruptly.
"Let me add this to the data I've input into the system." She replied. With a few keystrokes she was done. "Alright here we are." She added, turning to the two men who came to peer over her shoulder at the screen. "The database has cross-referenced all the soils likely to contain the descriptions I input, but with the highly acidic pH value it identifies only one possible location."
"Brazil!" Scott interrupted as he read aloud the flashing name on the screen.
"Indeed." Ro added.
"So how did Brazilian soil end up in a bed room in Utah?" Scott muttered. "And why wasn't it anywhere else in the house?"
As the thought past crossed Logan's mind, only one thing flashed into it. "Teleporters!" He yelled. His two teammates turned to face him in surprise. He looked at them with an 'it's so obvious' expression on his face, "Teleporters! If ya ain't got wings an' an open winda, how ya gonna get into a room?"
"Teleport," Scott completed the question. "That's why we haven't picked up their trail at the other locations."
"Yep." Logan replied.
"Think its our two boys from Kaylan's apartment." Scott queried.
"Ya can betchya."
"But that still does not explain how the soil got from Brazil." Ro interjected.
"Well it looks like we are going to be 'Flying down to Rio', as they say." Scott laughed at his little joke. "I'll inform the Professor of our findings." Scott turned and strode for the door, "Oh, and well done you two." He added.
Logan raised a brow at Scott's praise. "Own'y one reason Cyke's that amenable," he whispered to Storm, "Red's gotta be on 'er way home."
Ro flashed him a smile, it was nice to see Scott in a mood lighter than his usual commanding persona would allow. "Come along Logan, let's you and I have tea before the troops are rallied." She added, heading out after Scott.
ooooooooooooooooooo
"I cannot state just how significant this break through it, thank you all for your efforts over the last week, but especially to Ororo and Logan for bringing this evidence to light." Charles patted Ro on the arm in a small show of gratitude as he wheeled himself passed the sofa. The remaining members of the team had assembled in the professor's office to hear the latest news on the unusual soil sample found at the house in Utah.
"It seems clear now that the reason we have been unable to trace the missing people is that they have been spirited away by teleportation; possibly by the same one you encountered at Kaylan's apartment." Charles added, addressing Scott. "It also seems likely that the reason we have been unable to apprehend these 'people' is because they are not within the United States boarders. I think we are all agreed that the only way to approach this is to send a team to Brazil."
"Professor, we're already prepped and ready to go." Scott answered in his most official tone.
Charles smiled at the eager commander. "I have no doubt of that Scott, but let us consider things for a moment." Charles paused as he examined his options like the moves on a chessboard. "We do not yet know what were are facing, I feel we should be cautious at this point, we do not want to risk the lives of the people who have been kidnapped. I suggested a reconnaissance team; to assess the potential threat and bring back information."
"What's wrong with just kickin' some ass?" Logan growled, the slow slicing sound of metal cut through the stillness of the room as Logan released a two-inch section of blade from his right hand.
"There will be time for that Logan, right now we need solid information; where are the people being held and who is holding them?"
Logan clenched his fist, the urge for some serious action stirring his feral body. "Suit ya self Chuck."
"We'll go with the Professor's plan Logan." Scott stated forcibly.
Logan looked up, fixing Scott with a dark stare. "Wha'd ever, Cyke." He shrugged, drawing the blade back in.
After a monetary pause Charles spoke. "Well then, let's make final preparations. Scott, Ororo and Logan, you will head-up the mission, you leave tomorrow for Rio." Charles turned his wheelchair to return to his desk as the meeting adjourned. "Oh, one last thing, Scott I know you've already heard, but the rest of you will be pleased to here Jean is on her way home. She gets in tonight."
"Told ya so." Logan whispered into Ro's ear with a smirk as they paused in the doorway.
"She and Hank have produced some wonderful results, and have produced a serum which she tells me will release Kaylan's repressed gene."
A warm sensation passed through Logan's gut. The thought of a cure for her pleased him more than he realised and he felt his heart pound for a moment at Charles' announcement. Would it mean she would return to the mansion? He hoped so. As he headed down the corridor to make final preparations, a feeling of concern passed over him. Growing-up knowing you were a mutant was something most everyone in the mansion knew only too well, but to have it thrust upon you, when all your life you thought you were just another human being, that was a tough one. Ro's words from that day in the study, "With power comes responsibility," echoed in his mind. Would she be able to deal with the responsibility that whatever Hank had cooked-up would release in her? A small part of him felt sorrow for the blue-eyed woman thrust into a life filled with fear and hatred on all sides. Could she handle it? As he entered the hanger, he resolved himself to help her through it, in whatever way he could.