Whoa! It's been a while, I know. Sorry I haven't written in a while but school has kept me so busy and what not. Anyway, here's Ch. 7. Hope you enjoy it. Oh, and thanks to everyone for the reviews.

Chapter seven: Studies and the X-men

John's POV

Fear flooded me completely as Dr. MacTaggert walked towards me and opened the needle pack she held in her hands.

"Now, I'm going to take a blood sample of yours and examine it. If all goes as I planned, then this might be the only day you need to spend here," she said, rubbing my forearm with rubbing alcohol on the spot she planned to penetrate.

"Huh? What happened to me staying here so that you can study me?" I asked, noticing how young and good-looking she was…but she had nothing on Wanda.

She smiled at me, her bright-green eyes shining, and said, "It wasn't so long ago that I was in the same age category as you are, John. I'm only twenty-six years old so I remember what it feels like to want so bad to be out and about but instead you're stuck (not necessarily) in a hospital."

"But, what about, you know, the physical stuff? Like what happens with my organs and stuff like that?"

"Well, I'll call you in every week for a just a few minutes to see how you're doing and to get new blood samples to see what I can do for you," she said, aiming the needle to the vein in my arm. "You know a lot about what doctors have to do with patients in your position or in positions similar to yours…. Did you study to be a doctor in college?"

"Nope, never even graduated elementary and I'm not even old enough for college."

"Then how do you know so much?" she asked, puncturing me and pulling back the pump of the needle to take in the blood.

I flinched slightly (I always hated needles and the sight of my own blood) and said, "When I was younger, back in Australia, I had to do so many hours of community service in a hospital that I was practically working there full time. So, I'd spend each day helping the chemotherapy doctors prep the patients for their treatment and they'd let me stay for the "organ screenings"…. It was sickening at times. So many people, people with and without cancer but another illness, had such messed up livers, hearts, kidneys and junk…. Gees, I feel sorry for you. You probably have to see that all the time."

She nodded sadly and looked down at the needle, whose tube was filling with my dark red blood. "After a while you get used to it and the feeling of wanting to cry for that person goes away because you realize that the last thing that that person needs is someone else being weak around them when they're trying to be strong," she said as she pulled the needle, tube finally full, out of my arm and pressed an alcohol soaked cotton ball onto the puncture. "You also realize that sometimes, no matter what your past experiences, you can't save that person's life," she said walking to the test tube holder and placing the needle's tube in the rack after labeling it with Allerdyce.

"Then how come you were near tears when you told me I was going to die?" I asked, staring at her in a straight-backed position as she picked up a form.

She turned and said, "Because it's not fair that you, such a young person (obviously younger than I thought), might have to lose your life to a disease that affects only your kind." She handed me the form and said, "It's not fair that you can't live your life to it's fullest, especially after such a crappy life (no offence), because you have to stay here and get treated…. It's not fair."

Her lower lip was trembling and her eyes were flooding, once again, with tears.

"Yeah…." I took her hand in mine and pulled her closer to me and smiled. "I know you'll be able to help me…. I can feel it."

She nodded and handed me the form and said, "Hand this to the receptionist out there and she'll see to it that your visits from now on are free."

"Okay," I said, smiling. I hopped off of the table and walked out and did as she told me. The receptionist looked up at me, raised her eyebrows in an approving way and said loudly, "Moira, isn't he kind of young?"

"Shut the hell up!" came Dr. MacTaggert's voice from inside her office.

The receptionist smiled again and said, "Okay, sugar, you're all set," as she finished stamping a series of papers with 'Approved'.

I smiled back and then remembered that I needed to ask Dr. MacTaggert the question that had been bugging me since dawn. I walked back into her office and caught her by surprise as she turned around.

"Oh, my. You scared me. What's wrong, honey?"

"Um, I was wondering…is this disease contagious? You know, can I, uh, do the things I usually do and not worry about infecting anyone?"

She smirked and asked, "Do you mean can you have sex without worrying about infecting anyone?"

I nodded, smirking too.

"Well, I'm not really sure at the moment but I'll have the answer by next week."

"Okay," I said, smirking and then I walked out of her office and clinic.

When I got home, everyone gave me this sort of forced smile and then said, "Hi."

There's nothing that can bring your spirits down worse than that. I appreciated the fact that they were trying to stay calm and not mention my inevitable death but for some reason the way they did it made me prefer them walking around telling me I'm going to die. I smiled back at them and waved a 'later' to them before heading for my room.

For a few minutes I just sat on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the floor and then, deciding that I shouldn't act as though I were already dead, I got up and walked onto the porch on the courtyard and then I walked out onto the courtyard.

A lot of things were on my mind, but the most prominent thing at the moment was the fact that I'd created fire. I didn't know how I did it, but I did know I did it. All the way to and from Dr. MacTaggert's office I'd tried it again and nothing happened. Looking at my hands, I wondered, let me try again.

I concentrated on the heat coursing through me and the little bursts of nearly unbearable heat that kept coming on me every now and then and tried making fire burst from my hands again, but nothing happened. I sucked my teeth and gave up, starting to walk around the courtyard in thought.

It probably only works when I feel trapped or something…. This is so fucked up. I was supposed to prove to the X-Men – mostly the Professor – that I could take care of myself and look what happens. Man, when they find out, they're gonna have a fucking ball…. I'd better get better soon. I still need to kill Wolverine for killing Mystique and if he thinks he's getting away with that, he needs to wake up from his little dream world…. I hope she can help me out here. I hope Dr. MacTaggert knows what she's doing.

From the far end courtyard you could see a small part of the cemetery across the road – the really crappy part where no pays to have the grass cut or flowers put there. I walked over to the wrought iron gate that blocked me form the road and stared at this little girl who was winding through the unkempt, uncut grass that was past her knees to a grave spot that had been marked with only two wooden steaks that had been put together to form a cross. She almost fell a couple of times but always regained her balance, though it seemed she didn't care if she fell or not as long as the tattered old book in her hands was okay. As she stood in front of the grave spot, she spoke too softly for me to hear what she was saying, but I knew it must've been extremely painful to say because she was crying her eyes out by the third word. When she finished with her little monologue, she wiped her eyes and laid the tattered old book against the grave marker. The book must've belonged to the dead person because after she did that, she made her way back through the grass to the road and met my eyes briefly.

She looked slightly terrified for a minute then she got this piteous look on her face before casting a sad glance back at the grave she just visited and then looked back at me, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She shook her head as though pitying me for something and then took off down the road.

I just stood there for a minute in confusion, not knowing why she gave me those looks and then decided that I didn't care. I walked back into my room and lay on the bed. I stared at the ceiling for a while, feeling really tired and finally, after a battle with my mind, fell asleep.

THE NEXT WEEK

"Did you use a condom?" asked Dr. MacTaggert, pulling on latex gloves and prepping me for tests.

"No, that's why I came to you. So is it transmittable?"

"You should always wear a condom, disease or no," she lectured, pushing me down onto the table and pulling a big machine from the ceiling to hang over me. "I'll check the results in a minute. I got them back just today so I don't know yet."

I was worried because Wanda had become mysteriously ill and I wanted to know whether or not she had the Legacy Virus now.

Dr. MacTaggert took my X-rays and did some other tests to see how my organs were doing. "Fine," she said. "Just keep taking the antibiotics I gave you…. Now, concerning the matter of your girlfriend's health…. I'm sorry, John, …it looks like you might have infected her. The disease, as the results show, is highly contagious…. Due to the disease's contagiousness, you'll have to be quarantined in a sterile room here in the hospital and kept away from anyone who's not infected."

My stomach felt as if a brick had been dropped in there. Quarantined? I was never going to see anyone again. "But if I get cured I can leave, right?" I asked, coming to my senses.

She bit her lip and even though she nodded I knew that she thought I wasn't ever going to be cured.

I stared at her for a minute, suddenly not caring if I died as long as Wanda was okay and Wolverine died.

She got this really soft look on her delicate features and stepped closer to me and soon had her arms around me, and her lips on mine.

"Dr., I - "

She said, "Shh! Don't say anything. Just go along with it. Think of it as your last meal, but instead of a meal you get me."

I didn't know if she was suicidal or something but I couldn't let her do this to herself, so I tried to pull away from her and only succeeded in feeling bad when she gave me a confused look so I continued kissing her.

The door to the room had been closed already so there was no need to worry about anyone interrupting us as the table creaked and squeaked.

All the while I had an enormous guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach as I thought of how this was going to kill her and how I had just betrayed Wanda. But the guilt wasn't enough to stop me - or her for that matter and we just kept going at it. By the time we'd finished, it was night already and she told me that I could go and say my goodbyes.

I dressed and left. Not ten seconds after I stepped out of the mechanical doors of the hospital had I been accosted by Wolverine, Rogue, Professor X and… Jean.

"I'm no longer the weak force you knew as Jean Grey, Jonathan. I am Phoenix," she said, most likely reading my mind.

I nodded, opened mouthed and then snapped my attention to the Professor and Wolverine. "What do you want? Come to say farewell or say that you told me I couldn't take care of myself?"

"What're you talking about, John?" asked Rogue, a confused look on her face.

I knew the Professor had to have known about my disease by now, but for some reason he hadn't told Rogue…. The coward. I wasn't going to be the one to tell them when I was only face to face with them because they came to me. They could find out for themselves. I shook my head and said, "Nothing. What do you want?"

"To ask you to come home," said the Professor with the air of acting as though he hadn't noticed Rogue's confused silence.

I sucked my teeth and shook my head as I just walked passed them.

"Hey, kid! Have some respect for the Professor!" yelled Wolverine as he grabbed me by my shoulders and spun me around to face him roughly.

That must've been the push I needed to create fire because in a split second I was readying a flamed fist that was meant for his face.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, surprised that I could now create fire.

He extracted his claws and slashed at me a few times, missing each time, before I punched him in his stomach with my fiery fist. His uniform was obviously not fire resistant because it instantly caught fire. Wolverine, Rogue and Jean soon had the fire patted out and Wolverine turned to me, anger burning in his eyes.

I felt like I was ready to take on anything at the moment, but then a suddenly wave of weakness came over me, causing me to be unable to defend myself against Wolverine's stabs. Soon I was a bloody mess on the ground and paramedics were rushing to me.

Hadn't they tried to stop the fight? Maybe they did and we didn't hear them.

As they carried me away on a stretcher, I saw Wolverine do a disgusting thing: he licked my blood off of his claws in a menacing way, smirking all the while.

I smirked back and I could tell he didn't understand why I was smirking so I pulled up as much strength as I could and said, "You're gonna die!" I laughed my head off all the way to the emergency room until I passed out into a peaceful darkness.

Good. Maybe I'll die painlessly…well, …almost painlessly.