Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men, 'cause if I did, I would be rich. C'mon, do I look rich to you?

Well it was supposed to be a one shot- until I got a couple of people telling me to update. I figure that the customer's always right, so what the hell, eh?

Chapter Two: You didn't think it was coming...

Scott Summer's motorcycle whirred down the road at a thrilling speed. If only Scott knew about it...

Logan was now up in northern New York, when he caught a faint whiff of something in the air that rushed past him. The bike slowed to a stop, and he climbed off of it. Sniffing the air, Wolverine let his animal instinct take over. There was something close by... not human, but almost. Stumbling through the woods for a few minutes, he finally heard the whine of shallow labored breathing.

"Huuuuuuuh," gasped something in the underbrush. Sure enough, there lie a short man, barely conscious, wheezing for his life.

Logan was afraid to touch him. Mortimer's skin was so blackened that it was hard to tell that he was green. Eyes rolled in the back of his head, the injured mutant gave no sign that he knew he had a visitor. "Hey, kid, I'm gonna get you out of here, alright? We're gonna get you some help."

Mort gave a few feeble attempts at speech, but was reluctant to let any part of his mouth touch another part, so they came out as whimpering moans. He rolled his head just enough so he wouldn't choke on his own vomit.

Logan waited for the poor guy to finish puking. Poor kid... "I'm gonna have to pick you up, and it's probably going to hurt." He bent down, and scooped mort up like you would a child, so as not to put pressure on his lungs. The groggy teenager took a sharp intake of breath, followed by silent tears of pain. "Let's got you home. Raven's been worried as hell about you..."

When he reached Scott's bike, Wolverine found himself in a dilemma. There was no way in hell that this kid would survive a ride on a motorcycle. He lay him carefully on his side so that he could puke without too much trouble.

Picking up the little phone on the bike, Logan called for someone. "Logan?" said Scott, "Where are you? And what are you doing with my bike?"

"Well that's the thing- I have an injured guy here, and I can't get him in on your bike. Do you think you could get out here with a car?"

"Sure. Who is it?"

"Just do it… And bring Jean, too. He's pretty bad."

l-l-l-

"What in the-" Scott got out of his blue beamer, and walked over to where Logan sat, rubbing a comforting hand on the back of a young man who was clearly in bad shape. "Is that one of the Brotherhood guys?"

"Mort Toynbee," answered Logan, "Toad."

"The guy who slimed me," said Jean, walking over to him, "He looks horrible,"

"Being struck by lighning and then being thrown into the Hudson tends to have that affect on people," he growled.

Toad retched again, moaned, and continued with his wheezing, tears once again slipping from his eyes. "He swallowed a lot of water. That's what's making him sick like that." She inspected his mouth. "Ooh."

"'Ooh' what?" asked Scott.

"His tongue- that's where he was struck. It must have burnt his lungs!" She looked into the unfortunate boy's face worridly. "Get him into the car. I can't treat him here."

As Logan and Scott loaded the crying young mutant into the back seat, Jean watched him with pure sympathy. Poor kid...

So there it is! Chapter two! Tell me what you think or I'll use your eyeballs for foozeball!