The characters still ain't mine except for the ones that are. It ain't gonna stop me taking 'em outta the box and playing with 'em though.
This is the final chapter for A Force Of Nature because the story has gotten away from me and I need to get the narrative back on track. I feel the best way to do this is to break off and go with another story.
Again, thank you to the people who continue to read my ramblings and heartfelt appreciation to those of you who take the time to review/comment. MidLifeCrisis (my lovely beta reader, Dee), joegood2003, taluliaka, Dayrunner145, bima (times three) and crockett.
Chapter 15: Killing the Silver
A gentle, low pitched vibration shakes the room and for a moment I'm disoriented. What the fuck is it? An earthquake? Unlikely. It's gotta be the doors to the underground hangar sliding open like a silently screaming maw. A few seconds later I hear the jet approaching low and slow from the east, the path of least local habitation. Even with the engine's stealth mode engaged, significantly muting the roar of the turbines, it still makes a hell of a racket to my sensitive ears, especially when 'Ro makes the switch to vertical landing thrusters just before the jet descends into it's hidden bay.
The noise of the jet ain't woken me up, the burning in my gut did. I got a lava lake slowly simmering in my belly and the pain has increased incrementally over the last eight hours, more so since my departure from the med-lab. Compared to the agony Stryker inflicted on me this is a walk in the park but I guess the trip upstairs took more out of me than I anticipated. As I lie curled up around my misery, the engine whine dopplers out as the jet drops into the hangar and 'Ro hits the engine cut off. More vibration as the hanger closes, disguising its presence as an innocent looking basketball court.
A faint tingling in my head tells me Charlie's definitely back and prying. All he gets for his trouble is feral static. Somewhere close by a door creaks, the sitting room door by the way the hinges crack and groan, and my ears pick up the faint clack of beads before I catch Snarky's scent. Her footfalls, muffled by the hall's thick carpet, are receding towards the door leading to the main hall outside. The door opens and familiar scents rush in, carried on a fresh current of air. Cecilia exits the suite, closing the door quietly behind her.
Time passes; fifteen maybe twenty minutes before I hear her return. She ain't alone. Accompanying her footfalls is the low whine of motors and the velvet whisper of thin rubber tyres crushing carpet pile as Charlie propels his wheelchair along the hall.
"I'll be in the sitting room if you need me, Professor," Snarky whispers.
"Thank you Cecilia," comes the murmured reply. Snarky returns to her sentry post in the sitting room and I hear the door snick closed.
Moments later the door to my room swings open. Watching through eyes narrowed to slits I follow Charlie's progress across the room. Reaching my bedside he stops and through the glistening fringe of my eyelashes I can see his the left side of his bald head and face shining dully in the wan light of the night lamp Moira insisted must remain on. He stinks of aviation fuel, city pollution and exhaustion and it's all I can do not to wrinkle my nose in distaste. He also carries traces of Chanel aftershave. Guess One-eye reported to his troop leader like the diligent boy scout he is. Still marvelling why Captain Anal ain't put in a vinegar faced appearance to zap me a new one since coercing my way outta med-lab. Maybe Moira's kept him at bay 'coz she's running low on superglue.
"I know you are not asleep, Logan."
Cranking one eye wider I glare at Xavier. "Visiting hours are over. Come back tomorrow."
Noting my curled up posture and maybe reading something in my face he says, "You are in pain. I'll ask Cecilia to prescribe you an analgesic."
No ya won't. I've had a bellyful of fucking pills and potions. And more than a bellyful of Cecilia. "Fuck that. No more meds, Charlie."
"There is no need to suffer any more than you already are. Let someone help you."
Let someone help me? How the hell does he think I ended up in this state? "I've been suffering for as long as I can remember. Suffering means I'm still sucking air." Why change the habit of a lifetime?
"Life is not about suffering. It is about living."
Raising my head off the pillow and propping myself up on an elbow I hiss, "Ya can stop right there. Right. Fucking. There. You dare have the fucking gall to lecture me about living? The assrag government you've spent the last coupla days blowing like a bitch tore my life apart and threw away all the good bits like they were less than shit. Christ knows how many poor bastards those evil motherfuckers did that too. Including kids! They took some of your kids, Charlie. And they'd do it again if they thought it'd serve their purpose.
"When they smile at ya and shake ya hand and talk about reconciliation and equality it's coz somewhere down the line they're gonna bend ya over and fuck ya six ways from Sunday. Ya know that so why butt-lick those creeps like yer their trained fucking lapdog?"
Charlie meets my obscenity riddled fury with cool neutrality, his face placid. As I vent he lets it roll over him, all the while studying my face with those steely blue eyes. At least he ain't fucking smiling. Finally I'm through and my censure hangs between us like a bad smell.
After taking a moment to compose himself, Charlie speaks. "Ad hoc pejorative. What would we do without it?"
What the fuck! Did Cue-ball just chew me out?
"Believe me, Logan, I understand your pain and your cynicism but not everyone is driven by hate as was William Stryker. Not everyone is as misguided as Senator Kelly. There are moderate, level-headed people in key positions of power, some of whom I would call friend. They are working diligently to bring about human and mutant integration. It will take time but I am confident this is a fight we will ultimately win."
"Ain't gonna happen, Charlie," I wheeze as something inside my chest contracts and squeezes my lungs. "Yer old mutant supremacist buddy Magneto'll see to that. And so will whoever's waiting in the wings to fill his jackboots after I finally send him to hell. Make no mistake, I owe him big time for what he did to Rogue and it's a debt I intend to settle the first opportunity I get."
"Logan, revenge serves little or no purpose. It does not solve the problem, it only serves to add fuel to the flames. Violence is not the answer."
Fuck! Why does he keep hitting the reset button? He knows I ain't never gonna buy into his pacifist, turn the other cheek shit.
"That a fact. How'dya think yer Washington buddies'll react if they discover it was you the old Nazi used to try and take down the entire human world? Think they're gonna understand that the thousands of deaths it caused wasn't yer fault? Think they're gonna clap ya on the shoulder and tell ya no hard feelings? Think again. What happened makes yer too dangerous to live, Charlie. They think we're all too fucking dangerous to live."
"Then it is our task to discourage them of this unhappy delusion."
"What is it with this suicidal pacifist crap you insist on peddling?" My words trail off as a coughing fit seizes me and I find myself breaking into a sweat trying to dislodge the disgusting glob of whatever currently superglued to my tubes. The effort makes my eyes water and tears squeeze from under my lids. As I hack like my life depends on it, Charlie's on the move. He pours water from a jug on the bedside cupboard and holds out the half filled tumbler.
"Here, this will help."
"Thanks," I manage to choke out and take a few sips. The coughing spasm eases.
"While I consider your actions to be hot-headed on occasion, and with good reason, your survival is paramount to me and to everyone else who would call you team mate or friend. There is nothing I would rather do than discuss and compare our differing opinions on mutant affairs, however it is evident this is not conducive to your well being so I ask that we save it for another time, particularly since arguing the point in question is not the reason for my visit."
"Whatever." Wiping my eyes clear of tears I ask, "So why are ya here? I don't see no grapes or get well card."
"I am here because Moira has kept me apprised of your condition. She is gravely concerned about your welfare. So am I."
Like I'm not? "Be honest Charlie. The reason yer here is 'coz Moira thinks I've gone nuts." And she's sore 'coz she thinks I tricked her into flinching in our little game of chicken.
"I would not couch it in those terms but yes, she is concerned about your current state of mind. Taking the incident with Rogue, your flash rages and your threatened suicide into consideration, coupled with the fact that one of the symptoms of adamantium poisoning promotes extreme emotional responses, I too, am inclined to regard your recent behaviour as erratic and uncharacteristic. Now you have taken it upon yourself to refuse giving blood and urine samples. Moira fears your impaired judgement will lead you to making rash decisions such as refusing dialysis or other vital medical intervention should it be required."
Ain't my fucking judgement that's impaired. Though I will concede my temper is a little short. Well, shorter than it usually is. "'Zat why ya really here? To ream me? Then listen good coz I ain't gonna say this again. If my healing factor has been permanently fucked up then no amount of intervention is gonna help me unless it involves getting rid of the adamantium and we both know that ain't gonna happen. If my healing factor does finally kick in then the same goes; intervention will be pointless. What's so fucking difficult to understand about that?"
Resting his elbows on the arms of his wheelchair Charlie leans forward, no doubt to lend a little weight to whatever he's gonna say. "Your argument is flawed. What if you refuse treatment and succumb to your medical condition just before a solution can be found?"
Just listen to mister fucking reasonable sounding off will ya! "Life's a bitch, Charlie. Just make sure ya bury my carcass somewhere I'd appreciate being."
"That one statement alone constitutes symptomatic evidence of impaired judgement."
"Then ya ain't listening correctly. I'm telling ya. No one. That's no one! Gets to put anymore chemicals or needles into me. For any purpose."
"Why?"
"Because I don't want to live my last few hours or days hooked up to a bunch of machines to prolong my suffering. I can't do that."
"The progress of your condition has been retarded. Surely this is a positive indication that the treatment you are currently undergoing is, at the very least, partially effective."
"What makes ya think my healing factor ain't responsible for that?"
"Moira's professional opinion favours the possibility of multiple factors working in your favour, including your weakened healing factor. She urges you to consider continuing your treatment."
"Considered. Rejected. It is my prerogative to refuse medical treatment. I am invoking that right. The only reason I'm still hooked up to these IVs is because it was a condition of getting out of that fucking dungeon."
Charlie bows his head slightly then looks directly into my face, his piercing, steely eyes hooded, half of his face cast into sinister semi-shadow. "How can I be certain your decision is not based on unsound rationale?"
Stay the fuck outta my head Charlie. "What happened to trust me?"
"Logan, your insistence of none intervention has a high probability of ending in catastrophe. Are you certain this is a risk you really want to take?"
Shit! Do I need to hammer this into his head using nine inch nails? "Are you fucking blind? It's intervention that put me here!"
"I'm aware of the unfortunate circumstances. I am also aware there are times your healing factor needs support. I believe this may well be one of those times."
Well I don't. "Fuck that!"
"Very eloquent. Which brings me to the subject of Ms Commeau…"
-o0o-
Jessie's fingers are cool against my too hot skin as she playfully traces the contours of my jaw, her skin rasping against my unshaven chin. Those big blue eyes of hers are staring into my narrowed ones, her expression intense. Leaning forward she kisses my cheek and I'm overwhelmed by her delicious smell. Then she withdraws, her lips slightly puckered into a cute pout.
"Logan, if you refuse to eat I'll be forced to play aeroplanes."
"Aeroplanes?"
"Like this." Picking up the spoon she dips it in the oatmeal and begins to zoom it around with appropriate accompanying noises. Dripping milk marks the flight path towards my face. "Open wide, Tiger."
Don't even go there hon. Turning my face away I growl, "Not hungry, and if ya insist on that caper I'll spear yer fucking plane with a ground to air claw."
Dropping the spoon into the bowl she places a hand on her chest and, feigning shock, she squeals, "You wouldn't do that would you?" Jeezus! She really knows how to put her eyelashes to work and that heaving, low cut sweater of hers is hypnotic.
"Try me," I reply half not joking. I really, really do not want to eat anything right now. With my guts on fire and my stomach on a mission to turn itself inside out eating is the last thing on my mind, not even if it's a big juicy steak. Certainly ain't got any appetite for the shit Maggie's concocted for breakfast. Who'da thought ya could make oatmeal look more gruesome than it already is? And since when does warm milk sprinkled with a few oats constitute a meal anyhow? "I hate warm milk." Hate the smell of it too.
"So do I," she says suddenly dropping the stupid babying act and transforming into the woman I've fallen for. "Point taken."
Pushing away the bowl I reach for the glass of water and take a sip. Water is a safe bet at the moment and it's coolness seems to briefly sooth inflamed tissue as it goes down. As I set the glass down on the tray I notice a series of bluish blotches, sorta like vague bruises, on my forearm. Elf's grip must be stronger than I thought. Moira's too coz I got a matching set on my other arm. Wonderful! I now have the distinction of bruising easier than a peach.
I know I'm worse this morning. The pins and needles in my arms and legs are more pronounced to the point is feels like invisible insects are burrowing under my skin. If the foul taste in my mouth is anything to go by the bleeding gums ain't improving any, the thermostat in my burning gut has been set on high, my lungs are full of shit that has the consistency and appearance of semi-diluted green snot, the pain in my chest is becoming oppressive. In a new twist, this morning, after crawling my way to the en suite bathroom having flatly refused to use a bottle, the simple act of taking a piss doubled me over in agony, the pain akin to having white hot knives thrust into my back and this over having produced a tiny, blood flecked fraction of my normal volume. Ain't told Moira about this latest misery. Ain't gonna.
"Dammit!"
The IV tubes drag on my arm and I grimace my irritation as I reach to scratch a persistent itch. My instinct is to pull the fucking things out but I promised Moira I wouldn't. It's a promise I'm rapidly considering breaking.
"You okay Logan?"
"No I ain't," I growl. "I wanna get the fuck outta here."
The heparin syringe is almost empty which means I'll be disconnected from it while it's changed over. I'll demand more clothing and then I'm gonna insist that I'm allowed outside for a while. Sun's shining. It's got the makings of a beautiful day and I'm gonna enjoy a little piece of it come hell or high water.
"You spoken to Charlie yet?"
Jessie cocks her head on one side and a lock of hair falls endearingly over one eye. "You mean Professor Xavier?"
Is there another one? "Yeah, old Cue-ball himself."
"Don't call him that. I think he's sweet."
If only ya knew, darlin'. "So's antifreeze but you wouldn't wanna drink it would ya?"
"He asked me to drop by his office at ten. Got any tips on how to impress him?" Luscious pink lips quirk into a smile that I want to smother in a kiss. Having to deny myself this basic desire is hard. Ain't gonna contaminate her mouth with the foulness of my own. I satisfy my longing with taking her hand and kissing that instead. Poor consolation.
"Yer'll do fine, Jessie."
The bed bounces gently as she settles herself into a more comfortable sitting position, her left leg crooked to give her support. "I met the most curious little red-headed girl last night. Oddest thing was, she reminded me of you. There isn't something else you need to get off your chest is there?" Everything about Jessie, her expression, her eyes, even the way she's holding herself upright, is expectant. Is she waiting for me to divest my soul of some dark secret? She's gotta be referring to Rahne, of course.
"Kid ain't mine so don't worry. She say anything?"
Jessie don't look relieved exactly but I sense she's happy there ain't no third party complication between us. "That's the weird part. For the longest time she just stood there breathing funny, like she's trying to catch the scent of smoke on the wind or something."
"Rahne's a feral, darlin'. She probably gives everyone a good sniffing. It's her way of getting acquainted with ya."
Nodding, Jessie says, "That explains it then. She gave me a good looking over too. Seemed very concerned about the bruise on my face."
I'll bet she was. "She say anything about it?"
"That's another weird thing. She informed me that the maniac - that wasn't quite the term she used, where does a little girl get to learn language like that? - who'd hurt me would never do it again. Strange thing to say to someone you've only just met."
"Not really. Rahne's father used to beat up on the kid. Moira takes care of her now. Adopted her for her own. People as damaged as Rahne tend not to be predictable." Got first hand experience of that, ain't I.
A deep frown creases Jessie's perfect brow. "Poor baby. At least she's safe now."
Safe? Yeah, as safe as sweating dynamite. "She say anything else?" Maybe dropped a clue as to why she tore out my throat?
"Yeah. She mentioned something about me being blue. That's it, she asked me why I was more blue after seeing you. I explained that I was sad because you were so ill. This seemed to confuse her somehow and the conversation went off on a tangent. I ended up explaining about the fight at the Auger and how I got the shiner." Jessie touches her face where the bruise, now yellowing and beginning to fade, still mars her cheek. "She looked at me, wide eyed, like I'd just told her I'd run over her puppy or I'd caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. Then the conversation took a really strange turn when she muttered something along the lines of 'If he didn't hurt you, meaning me, why did he hurt himself?' What was that about?"
Hurt myself? Is the kid so deep into denial she thinks I tore my own throat out?
"Rahne saw your injury and thought I'd attacked you. Last night she'd have smelled my scent all over you." And on the day of the attack she'd have smelled your scent all over me, hon. But that still don't explain why she wolfed out. "She's having difficulty adjusting to the fact that not all men beat up on women and kids."
Jessie sucks in a deep breath and the soft contours of her lips form a hard, uncompromising line. "Wait a minute," she says slowly as the cogs of realisation click into place. "You said last night that you'd been on the receiving end of a feral anxiety attack. Was it Rahne? Did she do this to you?"
"Hold it right there, darlin'. Rahne's a good kid who's a little confused right now. I inadvertently did or said something that triggered a feral rage but what she did was nothing I couldn't recover from." I beat up on her too but let's not go there. "She ain't the one who fucked up my healing factor."
Sliding off the bed Jessie begins to pace, suddenly ill at ease. "Logan, in less than an hour I'm going to be interviewed by Professor Xavier for a position teaching martial arts to kids like her. How can I justify honing the violent tendencies of a potential killer like Rahne?"
"Rahne is a frightened and physically abused little girl who needs to come to terms with her feral nature. She won't be your responsibility. At least not for a coupla years. You'll be coaching the older kids, teaching them how to defend themselves in a hostile world without having to reveal what they are or what they can do."
"You're talking like I already have the job."
Shit, who the hell am I trying to kid? Jessie don't deserve this. "Yeah, about that. I ain't happy about ya becoming a flying target in Iraq, ya know that."
"But?"
"I don't want ya taking on the job at the school because of me. I gotta tell ya there are times when I ain't gonna be around." Maybe never.
Jessie looks stricken, like I've just stabbed her in the heart. "If you don't want me around all you have to do is say so and I'll leave."
"That ain't what I mean sweetheart."
"Then what do you mean?"
Fuck. Why does the truth have to hurt so damned much? I gotta tell her. It ain't fair expecting her to make a commitment to suit me. One-eye was right. Jessie and I barely know one another. She owes me nothing and I need to be straight with her. I owe her that much. "What I'm trying to say is, there's a chance I ain't gonna be around period. I'm really fucked up and I don't know what's gonna happen to me."
My words take a few moments to sink in and then her mouth falls open in shock. "What? Are you trying to tell me you're dying?"
"I'm trying to tell ya I don't know, honey."
Colour drains from her face and her eyes grow bleak with fear. "No. This can't be happening. We…I just found you."
Taking her hand I squeeze it gently then kiss it, taking care not to leave bloody smears from my oozing gums. "Hey, c'mon baby. I don't aim to let this beat me, 'kay? I've survived worse than this, believe me. It's just I've never been in this particular situation before so things ain't so clear to me."
The pain on her face wrenches something inside of me. God, Jessie, all my life I've been looking for some like you, wondering if what I was searching for even existed. Save for Jeanie, yer the first really good thing that's happened to me...well since I can remember. And, like Jeannie, suddenly there's a real danger yer gonna get snatched away from me. Fucking doctors! Rage and despair make for uncomfortable companions and I can feel my control slipping as raw violence floods my forebrain and demands release. Heart monitor's going crazy and I can feel bile burning its way upwards
"Logan? Are you okay?"
No. I ain't okay. "Sick," I manage to groan while swallowing hard. Using her lightning reflexes Jessie grabs a disposable sick bowl and thrusts it at me. She looks away as I retch miserably. Can't even keep a few sips of water down this morning. There's blood too. More than last night.
"That doesn't look good, Logan. I'm going to fetch Moira."
Unable to tell her no, I reach out to stop her but she's already running through the door calling Moira's name. Damn! My upcoming mission to breathe fresh air just got complicated.
-o0o-
The vicious, internecine row that got my ass the sunny side of the French window came at a price. Moira is once more communicating with me on a purely professional level and Maggie continually frowns at me and tuts her disapproval under her breath. Don't stop either of 'em constantly checking up on me though. Maybe I'll sweet talk 'em later.
The Lay-Z-Boy I'm lounging in was liberated by Elf. Dunno who from and I don't care. It supports my aching body with a comfort I didn't believe possible. Despite the sunshine the ambient temperature feels distinctly chilly because I'm running another fever. It's making my head spin and I feel like shit warmed over. My insides still burn like I've swallowed concentrated sulphuric acid and I'm still attached to the IVs but at least I don't have to listen to that fucking beeping monitor for a while. Guess this little shenanigans is gonna cost me my good patient merit badge. It's worth it. The motorcycle magazine Maggie gave me to read it lies discarded on my lap. I just can't be bothered expending the energy to turn the pages or read. I just wanna soak up the sounds and the scents and think things over. I can always think better when I'm outside.
Maggie's approaching. She's left me alone for hell, it's gotta be five minutes or more. Maybe she thinks I'll abscond while she ain't looking. I wish!
"Would you like a drink, pet?"
"No." There's that frown again. "Maybe later, 'kay?" She don't look like she's leaving.
"Why are you doing this Logan?"
"Doing what? Sitting out on a nice day and enjoying the view? You got something against fresh air?"
"That's not what I mean."
I know it. Ain't debating this with her. She's an empath. She already knows why I'm doing this. If she wants to talk she can pick a different fucking subject. Or I will.
"So what category was it?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"On the bee-wash scale. What category did my ruckus with Moira score?" Maggie looks at me like I've lost my mind. Perhaps I have. Then a wan smile slips onto her face.
"Definitely a five."
"That all?"
"The scale only goes up to five."
"So what does it measure exactly."
"Irascibility. Or in your case, extreme growliness."
Then it hits me. Not bee-wash; BWASH. Bear with a sore head. I chuckle breathlessly.
"I was bad wasn't I?"
Maggie folds her arms across her chest and strikes a pose that screams of female pissed of by masculine immaturity. "You were beyond bad. You were obstinate and defiant to the point of being beyond the pale. You would give a mule a bad name. If I was you I'd be thoroughly ashamed of myself."
But you ain't me are ya Maggie. "It coulda been worse. I coulda insisted on Canada. It did cross my mind ya know."
"Then thank God for small mercies."
I catch a scent on the breeze. Gonna hafta teach that kid not to approach from downwind. "D'ya mind if I have some time to myself Maggie? I got stuff I need to think over."
"Of course. I won't be far away. Just call me if you need anything."
"I will."
Maggie returns inside and I listen closely until I hear her exiting the sitting room, probably heading for the kitchen that comes with the suite.
"I know yer there, kid," I say quietly, not wanting to attract unwanted attention from the house.
Silence. Can't even hear her breathing. For a moment I think she's slunk away but then she lets out her breath softly. "Look kid, I know ya was here last night and now here ya are again. Ya gonna keep company with the topiary all morning or are ya gonna get whatever it is off yer chest?
More silence. Then rustling. Rahne, wearing what can only be described as an olive drab jumper and matching cargo pants, steps out of a large rhododendron bush into the open. She's wary, tensed to flee but I won't be doing any chasing.
"Yeh silver's fading," she murmurs, refusing to catch my eye.
Of all the things I expected her to say that never featured on the list. "Is it?" Haven't a fucking clue what's she's talking about but I intend to find out. "How d'ya know?"
"It's dimmer than it was last night." There's a catch in her voice, probably something to do with the pheromonesl of regret she's emitting. There's fear too, but not fear of me.
"Well that defines fading, I guess," I agree. I manage to smile but it's a weak effort.
She falls silent and tilts her head testing the air. "I did this."
"Did what?"
"The sickness is spreading. I can smell it. I killed yer silver and now it's killing you." Silver? Does she mean the adamantium? How could she kill it? And how the hell could it fade? Don't make any sense. There are tears spilling down her cheeks. Talking to Jessie must have put a few things into perspective for her and now she realises her error.
"Rahne! Why are yeh nae in class?"
The voice of authority is Moira. This is the second time in less than twenty four hours she's got the drop on me which, frankly, does fuck all for my reputation. Rahne flinches, also taken by surprise. Walking briskly to the foot of my chair Moira places her hands on her hips and addresses her errant daughter who is visibly cringing with guilt.
"I'll speak tae yeh later, young lady. Get back tae class this minute."
"Moira don't. The kid's trying to tell me something and I think it's important."
Too late.
Muttering something that sound like, "I'm sorry." Rahne turns tail and flees, her passage marked by the snap of branches catching on her clothing as she ducks through the shrubbery.
This ain't good. Instinct tells me Rahne senses something, maybe something even I've missed. "Damn! Go fetch her back here will ya?"
Moira shakes her head, emphatic that Rahne complies with her wishes rather than mine. "It's good that the bairn has finally come tae her senses. If she wants tae talk over her actions there's nae hurry to do so. I'll have words with the wee lassie when she's nae in class."
"She ain't in class right now." Moira looks at me over her shoulder and then turns, studying me with an intensity that makes my ass hairs twitch. "What?" She looking for a rematch?
"Logan, look at me."
"Like I ain't already?" I snap.
"Please don't be difficult about this," she says as her gaze bores into my own. "Look left please." I comply. "Now right."
"What's this about?"
"In a minute. Can yeh raise yer shirt for me please?"
"What is it with doctors and my shirt? If ya wanna see my six-pack ya'll hafta get in line, darlin'."
"I've seen it already and as such things go it's worth the wait. Now will yeh please do as I ask?"
Is she taking the piss? Humouring me? Apparently not. After pushing down the fleece blanket and hitching up the waistband of my sweat top, I reveal my belly to the world at large. I feel my stomach contract with the shock of the cool air on my hot skin. Moira studies my abdomen before prodding it methodically. At least I think it's supposed to be methodical.
Fucking ow! I flinch away from her touch.
"Is it tender when I do this?" She prods me again. And again, fucking ow!
"No," I lie glibly. "Yer fingers are cold."
Her disbelief emerges as a rather unladylike snort. As she continues her impromptu examination her face turns grim. "Yer garden interlude's over, laddie."
"Oh? I don't think so." I don't disguise the belligerence in my voice.
"Yer sclera, the whites o' yer eyes, are jaundiced and yer liver seems to be enlarged. I wasnae expecting this so soon."
Jaundiced? I examine my hands which ain't yellow. What the fuck's she talking about? "What are ya saying?"
"I'm saying adamantium poisoning doesnae progress this quickly even without yer healing factor. I strongly suspect there's another underlying cause aggravating yer condition." She touches my face. "Yer burning up."
For a second or two I suspect some sort of ploy to get me back downstairs. Then I look at Moira's shaken expression and smell anxiety oozing through her pores. "Like what?"
"I need tae perform some more tests to confirm my diagnosis."
When hell freezes over and hosts the winter Olympics. "No. No more tests. I'm not a fucking guinea pig Moira."
She looks at me like I've sprouted a second head. "Logan, this is nae time for intransigence. This is serious."
"So am I. Talk to me woman. What the fuck d'ya think's going down?"
"Have any of yer symptoms undergone significant changes since last night? Have any new symptoms developed? Be honest with me please."
I shrug. "Yeah, sorta."
"Do yeh mind expanding on that?" she asks expectantly.
"Well the symptoms ya know about are a little more…well, intense, ya know?"
"And the symptoms I don't know about?"
Is she fishing? Or is she waiting for me to confirm something she already knows? "It's agony to piss. And there was some blood," I admit.
"Och, yeh idjit! Why the hell did yeh nae tell me?"
"Coz it ain't gonna make a shred of difference to the outcome is it?"
"Bullshit! Do yeh want tae die?"
"No, I don't wanna die."
"Then why won't yeh let me help yeh lad?"
"Because I've had all the help off you and Snarky I can stomach, Moira."
That stings her. She blinks her shock, mouth falling open to reveal her well maintained pearly whites. "What yer saying makes no sense to me at all. Apart from…"
"Really? Makes a world of fucking sense to me," I interrupt. I ain't in the mood to listen to her justification. "Ever since I hit med-lab things have gone from bad, to worse, to death's door. You and Reyes had ya shot and ya both fucked up. I ain't sticking myself in the firing line no more."
The angry glint is back in her eyes. "If that's so yeh have a funny way o' showing it. Yer as good as holding the gun against her own daft head."
-o0o-
Moira made her argument to bring me inside and now I'm back in bed but not by choice.
"I think yeh'll be more comfortable if yeh catheterised." This announcement is delivered like she's decided to plump my pillows.
"What?" I snarl, cocking my head on one side and flashing her a warning scowl.
"It's a simple procedure. Maybe a few moments of minor discomfort but it will make passing urine more bearable for yeh."
Over my rotting corpse. "The first bastard…or bitch," I growl as I fix her with a malevolent stare, "To try and shove anything up my dick will get their fucking heads pinned to the wall."
"Are yeh telling me yeh'd rather suffer and risk more damage to yer kidneys?"
I'm telling ya it ain't gonna happen, sister. "If yer so desperate to stick another tube somewhere then stick up yer ass. Or better still, stick it up Captain Anal's ass. He needs to unpucker before the hole heals up from lack of use. Think of it as doing him a favour."
I sense an explosion of anger inside Moira. She ain't merely pissed with me any more, she's incandescent with fury. Eyes smouldering like green flames she turns away, seemingly not trusting herself to speak. The rigid set of her shoulders and spine informs me how much I've undermined her professional facade and now she's fighting to regain her cool. Marching over to a tallboy she begins to count out small packs with deliberate slowness and put them on a tray. By this time she's through she's managed to restore some of her composure and returns to my bedside, tray in hand. The packs contain new electrodes for the heart monitor.
"We'll need tae remove the shirt," she says, her manner perfunctory, her tone clipped to the quick. Trying hard not to take her frustration out on me, Moira disconnects the IVs and helps me strip off my top.
"My god!"
Her sudden outburst has me looking at her questioningly. Then I pay closer attention to what she's staring at. My arms are covered in bruises, far more than I noticed earlier, some forming angry looking blisters the colour of blackcurrant juice under my skin. Pressing one make it throb like a bruise.
"What the fuck is this?" I growl.
"Something I was afraid of," she murmurs, her voice bleak.
After restoring the IVs Moira's deft fingers place fresh electrodes on strategic places on my chest and lower torso in preparation for wiring me up.
The atmosphere is thick with the distress radiating off her. "What are ya afraid of? What the fuck's wrong with me?"
"Logan, yer critically ill, Yeh don't need me tae explain that part to yeh."
"Then explain the part I don't know why don'tcha."
"Very well. The symptoms are indicative of a condition called disseminated intravascular coagulation. Bottom line, the blood coagulates all over yer body." The tone of her voice is flat, almost devoid of emotion. She's accomplished at delivering bad news. Don't make her happy about it though.
"That don't sound good. So I ain't got adamantium poisoning?"
"DIC is a complication of an existing condition."
"Like flu turning to pneumonia?"
"Not really. The good news is, yer already receiving heparin so this particular aspect o' the condition may well have been controlled in the main."
"And the bad news?"
"There's a high probability of internal haemorrhage and heparin is a very effective anticoagulant."
"So if I begin to bleed out I'm fucked?"
"I could be wrong. Let me take some blood samples then we'll both know one way or the other." Wiring up complete, she leans away from me and switches on the monitor. As the beeping starts up I can't help but scowl my annoyance. Satisfied the monitor is working correctly she switches her attention back to me. "Logan, please."
The frantic movement of her eyes as she searches my face is reflected in her tense, almost trembling posture. She's taking this new drawback even harder than I am.
I stare at her for long moments before thinking, what the hell?
"Okay, I say with a cold smile. "But only coz ya asked nicely."
-o0o-
"Where's Moira?"
Snarky looks pained as she prepares to administer another dose of the chelating agent. "Analysing your blood sample. There are a number of tests she needs to perform. She'll be some time."
"Leaving me to yer tender mercies." I don't try to hide my scathing sarcasm.
"Logan, I didn't want this. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"Well ya can st…argh!" Pain, unexpected and white hot, lances across my lower back causing me to cry out and double up.
She stops what she's doing and moves to my side. "You okay?"
"I…I gotta piss."
"Hold on." Snarky grabs the bottle and hands it too me before turning away to give me a modicum of privacy.
"Ah Jeezus," I groan, unable to contain the torture of trying to empty my bladder. A few muddy looking drops trickle into the bottle. The pain is so intense I break into a sweat despite my elevated temperature.
"You done?" I can barely nod my head. She takes the bottle so I can make myself decent. "Your kidneys are in a bad way. You need dialysis to support them or you'll be poisoned by your own fluid waste."
"What I need is for ya to fuck off and leave me alone," I grunt through the pain.
Give the bitch her due. She don't lose her cool. "I will but only to call Moira and not before I administer your meds. Your hand please."
Taking my right hand she holds it steady. I want to snatch it away but I just don't have the strength to do anything but retch. As she injects the contents of the syringe through the canula I can feel the faint burn as the medication spreads up my arm and into the rest of my body.
"All over. You can go back to hurling insults at me now. Should you require new ammunition I'm advising you to seriously consider returning to med-lab."
As she collects her doctor junk I rub my bruised right arm in the hope that this minor discomfort will pass more quickly. I stop when the blisters remind me they hurt even worse.
"Fuck that!" I mutter beneath my breath.
"Did you say something?" Snarky enquires.
Before I can reply something warm trickles from my right nostril and onto my lips. Blood. Now I've got a fucking nosebleed. I wipe it away with the back of my hand feeling the wetness smear across my face and soak into the bandage protecting my abused knuckles. Something's wrong. I can feel it, deep inside. An ominous weight quickly building in my stomach. It obviously ain't gonna stay there though. Too fast for me grab a sick bowl I feel my gorge rise with lightning speed. I try and minimise the mess by hanging my head over the side of the bed. What spatters on the floor is deep crimson.
"Logan? Oh my god!" Snarky rushes towards me but I spring my claws and she backs away.
"You!. You did this! What the fuck have ya done to me?"
Feral rage overtakes me and lends me a strength I didn't know I could muster. Ripping away the IVs and the electrodes I roll off the bed and lurch towards my tormentor. "Fucking kill ya for this ya vindictive bitch!"
Reyes screams and sprints for the door, slamming it shut behind her. I stagger after her and try to pull the door open but it's shut fast. I can smell her just the other side of the door. She's holding the handle and keeping it closed with her weight a she yells for assistance. I got a solution for that. Pulling my hand back I plunge the claws through the door. I don't hit flesh but she yelps with shock and I hear her back away. Don't get the opportunity to open the door though coz my stomach does another flip-flop which doubles me over. As my sagging weight tears the claws free I hear wood splintering. Slumping with my back against the door I allow myself to slide down to the floor as my trembling legs give way. There's nothing to brace my feet against so I'm gonna hafta trust to my dead weight preventing anyone getting to me.
"Logan? Logan are you all right?" The speaker's voice is high pitched. Anxious.
Maggie. "Keep that bitch away from me or so help me I'll fucking gut her!"
"What's wrong? What happened? You scared Cecilia out of her wits."
"I'm through talking. Go away Maggie. Leave me be."
Blood is streaming from my nose so I tilt my head up and lean it against the door. All this achieves is blood trickling down the back of my throat making me cough and spray the shit back out through my mouth.
Inside my head the animal is raging, urging me to run, to lash out and inflict damage and pain. Can't do that. I just don't have enough charge in my batteries to make this an option. This time the best offence is defence. Using all of my willpower I cage the beast and kick his hair ass into my back brain where he's easily controlled. Then I brace myself for a siege. No one's coming through the door. I'll make certain of that.
Gotta think. Gotta clear my head and work this shit through. It ain't a coincidence this happened after Snarky gave me the meds. I'm getting to thinking the meds are at least partly responsible for my healing factor going clusterfuck on me. And what the fuck did Rahne mean about my silver fading away and dying? Metal don't die. Ain't renowned for fading neither. She musta been referring to something else. But what? My healing factor? Can she somehow see it or sense it? Gotta be it. Gotta be what she was babbling about. I've been getting steadily worse since I woke up after the attack. That shouldn't happen even after the transfusion went wrong. But there is a factor to take into account. I've been attached to IVs dripping crap into my system since I ended up in med-lab. The meds are fucking me up. Can't be anything else.
"Logan? It's Moira. Can yeh hear me laddie?"
"C'n hear you so I know ya c'n hear me. Y'ain't coming in and I ain't coming out so go take a flying fuck."
"Logan, listen to me. Cecilia told me what happened. Yer bleeding internally. This means yeh likely tae be in shock and not thinking clearly. It's very important that yeh move away from the door so I can get in there tae help yeh. Please let me take care of yeh."
"That fucking bitch already took care of me. She did this. Fucking Latino witch with her evil potions."
"Cecilia isnae trying tae hurt yeh, Logan. She was only trying tae help yeh. I explained about the likelihood o' internal bleeding. It was just a horrible co-incidence this occurred just after Cecilia administered the ECD. Nothing more. I understand yeh confused and angry and maybe a little frightened but if yeh dinnae let me in yer running the real risk o' bleeding tae death."
Let ya in so ya can force feed me more meds and finish what ya started? Let ya in so ya can drag me back down to that hellish hole in the ground? "Rahne told me my silver's dying. Told me it was fading away. Yer killing it Moira. Yer killing me! You and Doctor fucking Death. You stay away from me ya hear?"
There are soft footfalls retreating up the hall. Moira creeping away for some reason? She's smart and she's devious. Dollars against donuts she's planning something. I can hear Moira's voice but it's muffled, whispering a conversation with someone. Can't small who it is though 'coz my sinuses are full of blood.
"This isnae his fault. He's irrational because of the poisoning, because he's haemorrhaging internally and in shock. There's a high risk he'll react violently and I dinnae need tae remind yeh the man has six integral, very sharp nine inch blades that can inflict serious wounds. Yeh need tae extract him from the room fast but not at the cost o' more casualties. This should help yeh."
Whatever she's just handed to whoever's volunteered for a suicide mission, I can guarantee I ain't gonna like it. Don't wanna hurt no one but if it comes down to my survival over theirs then I pick me.
"The first fuck that comes through this door gets gutted," I yell giving whoever drew the short straw plenty of warning.
BAMF!
The stink of Elf's personal stench cloud bites into the back of my throat causing a paroxysm of coughing. Fucking obvious choice ain't he? My lungs wheeze like soggy, broken bellows and I managed to open my eyes to glare murder at Stink Boy. Glaring back at me, hand raised to his visor, is Summers.
I raise my clawed hand. "Stay away from me asshole."
Summers hunkers down, well beyond my reach, so he can look me in the eye. That genuine shock I see on One-eye's stony face? Can't be.
"My God, Logan, what the hell happened to you?"
He asked. Guess he thinks keeping me talking will defuse the situation. Wrong! "Fucking Reyes is what happened. I told them to leave me alone. I told them and they wouldn't listen."
"Told who? Who do you think did this too you Logan?" He's in Fearless Leader mode. Biding his time. Boy is Moira gonna kick his ass. She demanded quick results. He calls this quick?
"Them. And now the kid says it's dying."
"What's dying?"
"My silver. It's fucking dying and they wouldn't leave me alone."
Dropping his head and then twisting it to glance at Elf whose tail movements are so agitated it risks tearing itself off his ass, "You're raving, Logan. You're not making any sense. Let me help you." Standing he moves a little closer. I catch the hand signals he's making to Elf, planning to distract while Beam Boy moves in closer.
Brandishing my claws is an effort too far. My arms droop to my knees because there's no way I can hold them up. Fuck! Bonus point. They look really intimidating with blood dribbling off of 'em even if it is my own.
"No! No more fucking help. Go 'way".
"Logan, you know I can't do that."
"Yes ya can. Same fucking way ya arrived."
Here comes the Reasonable Voice. "You're sick, man. Hurting real bad. You don't know what you're saying."
"I know exactly what I'm saying. Why ain't anyone fucking listening? Let them in here and I'm dead."
"I'm sorry, Logan but I can't let this situation continue. I hoped it wouldn't come to this but it's for your own good."
He reaches behind and pulls something out of his waistband.
A tranquiliser pistol. He's gonna put me down like some fucking animal? I howl my defiance and try to dive aside but my body has reached the end of it's endurance and I just sit there like a cripple. Sorry he might be but he squeezes the trigger anyway and I feel a sting as the dart stabs into my shoulder. I will my arm to work, to snatch out the dart, but it's already delivered it's payload.
"You bastard. It's the meds that are killing me and ya go and pump me full of more?"
I laugh, a rasping wet noise that brings blood bubbling from my lips. Deep in my gut something bursts and pain rips through me like I'm being clawed apart from the inside out. I fold into myself, clutching my middle, screaming my agony. Outside it all I become aware I'm sitting in a warm puddle of arterial red blood. I watch in horrified fascination as it slowly expands.
"See," I howl, blood bursting onto my tongue and dribbling from the corner of my mouth. "See whatcha fucking did?
I blink. Both of 'em are surrounded by a bright, multicoloured glow. What the fuck? The stuff is crawling all over them like some parasitic rainbow. Whatever the crap is it's beginning to affect the rest of the room, creeping an inexorable path towards me. I try to scramble away but my limbs are so much dead weight.
"Get back," I hiss. "Get away from me."
Inside my head a jackhammer sets up a series of vibrations that spread along my limbs and lock my joints. Vision begins to fade as violent spasms force my extremities to take on a macabre life of their own, twitching and flailing in the most hideous way and adding to my inner torment with every jerk. I feel my upper body sinking lower, pulled by gravity and the flopping motion of my errant body. The mess of blood, warm and wet, acts like a lubricant and I begin to slither around uncontrollably. Overhead the ceiling elongates and the walls warp, melting into iridescent colours shot through with blinding white jagged light that stabs cruelly into my eyes and threatens to burst apart my brain. As I lie there, flopping around in my own blood I'm vaguely away of shapes standing over me; amorphous, monstrous, yet strangely familiar. They're speaking I think. Maybe yelling. I catch a few syllables.
"…uck he's having a seizure. Fe…"
And then the dark, formless nothing reclaims me. This time there are no ghosts.
TO BE CONTINUED
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