Hello agin lovely readers! I am leaving town for a few days for a family thang, so i worked extra hard to type this up quickly just for you. Special thanks to a certain Strawberry for checking my account to see if it now accepts anonymous reviews (which it does, btw). So relax, enjoy, and kindly review! I love reviews, i crave them like i crave falafels and chocolate! But obviously not together. Because that's just weird.
Chapter 6
Conversations and Complications
For the second time in twenty four hours, Ororo Munroe stared at her mentor with an expression of worried disbelief. "You're certain it's him, Charles," she intoned, more a statement than an actual question. Xavier nodded gravely across his great mahogany desk at her, the sadness playing around his eyes. For all her majestic presence and breathtaking beauty, Ororo was really not a physically imposing woman. Even with her hands folded in her lap and her back rail straight, she was dwarfed on all sides by the leather armchair she sat in. Charles focused on her eyes as he spoke. He would not, could not focus on the frailties of the woman in front of him. Not when he needed her strength.
"Erik Lensherr was the first mutant I ever encountered, so many years ago. I know his mental signature better than my own. He is most decidedly using his powers in New York City, and if his mental shielding slipped for even the twenty seconds it took for Cerebro to get a lock on him, then whatever he is doing is likely as monumental as we feared." His gaze faltered, and Ororo used the opportunity to voice the concern that had been plaguing her. "Charles," she began hesitantly, "Do you believe it's possible…what I mean to say is, this is Magneto. His safeguards on his privacy are not those of a sane man, and his attention to detail is obsessively clinical, to say the least. Do you think, perhaps, that if Cerebro was able to detect Magneto, it is because he wants us to find him?" The professor met her eyes once again. "I have taken that possibility into consideration, Ororo. And regrettably, it is in all likelihood an accurate assessment. However, we cannot take that chance. We must do something with this information." Ororo nodded, silently steeling herself for what she was about to say. "If you're thinking of sending Logan to find him, Charles, I am imploring you to reconsider. Even in a city the size of New York, Magneto will be able to sense Logan's adamantium skeleton a mile away. You have an approximate location of where he was using his powers not an hour ago. Let me take the jet to New York."
Though both Charles and Ororo knew that the telepath could sense the unease afflicting her psyche, it was to the woman's credit that her voice and gaze were clear and steady, her body language not betraying an ounce of trepidation. A small smile spread slowly on Xavier's face, the pride emanating from his eyes as he appreciated, not for the first time, what a remarkable being Ororo Munroe really was: every inch the goddess she was thought to be an ocean away. "I would not have anyone else," he told her truthfully, and she stood, preparing to leave. "But Storm," he cautioned, his tone carefully controlled, "Do be careful. I fear that whatever Erik is up to, it is greater than anything he has attempted in the past. We may be facing our most monumental challenge to date."
Kneeling in front of him, Ororo took his hand, intending to reassure him. Looking into his eyes, however, she hesitated. There was something almost—guarded, about the way he looked at her, an expression she had never before seen him wear. Ororo blinked, and immediately felt ashamed of her foolish imagination. Charles's dark eyes were the kind, benevolent ones that she had known for years, full of the same light and warmth that was always present. She therefore offered even more comfort in her smile than she had planned.
Two floors below Xavier's office, Dr McCoy was busy cleaning the infirmary, putting away extra bandages and gauze as he hummed along with the Mozart piece playing on his radio. Hearing a distinct beeping sound coming from the far corner, he strode over to his blessed, top of the line coffeemaker and gratefully poured himself a generous amount. It had been a long morning, being shaken awake before 5a.m. by Scott, but coffee made all things better. Inhaling deeply, he smiled and addressed the man in the doorway without turning around. "May I offer you a cup, Logan?" he asked, gesturing to his mug. "Vanilla Hazelnut, the proverbial nectar of the Columbian gods."
Shuddering slightly, Logan declined the offer. He took his coffee black; anything else was a little too fruity for his taste, and Hank knew it. "How's Jeannie?" he asked, folding his arms and leaning back against the doorframe. Hank took another sip of his coffee before returning to his task of cleaning. "She's fine," he told Logan, " a few abrasions here and there. Miraculously, her hands will not require any stitches, although her dexterity will be limited for as long as they're bandaged, which should be at least the next couple of days." He paused, looking curiously at Logan.
"Was Jean unconscious when you reached her?" he asked. Logan shook his head. "Not really," he answered, "we think she must have had a telekinetic fit in her sleep. When Slim and I got there, she was sitting up, but…" he frowned, not sure how to continue. Hank looked at him kindly. "But, she may have been acting…somewhat differently?" Logan looked up at him sharply. "Exactly. She wasn't there," he explained, "not at first. It was like she wasn't seeing me, or like she didn't know me." Hank nodded, walking over to one of his machines. "I wondered if that might be the case," he admitted. "There is something here I think that you should see."
Logan strode over to the machine as Hank fiddled with the dials, changing the size and shapes of the thin green lines that cut jaggedly across the screen. "Due to the cerebral nature of Jean's mutation, and the amount of psychic power she has always possessed, I have always included MRIs, PETs, fMRIs, and any other brain scan I have the equipment for in her routine physicals," Hank explained, and handed Logan a folder thick with papers. "These were my most recent readings, taken three months ago." Logan flipped through the readouts, nonplussed. "Continue as if I understand," he growled at Hank, who wisely ignored his tone and did indeed continue.
"One of the first things I did this morning when you brought Jean to me was to take another reading," Hank said, turning the machine slightly to give Logan a better view of the screen. Logan compared the picture to the one on his papers. The spikes were far more jagged, much higher up than what was printed on any of them. "As you can see, the neurotransmitter levels present in her limbocortical system were sharply increased, and the reuptake nearly halted." Logan saw no such thing, but nodded as Hank adjusted the dial once again. "But look t this scan, a mere ten minutes later," Hank said, tracing the lines on the monitor. "Inexplicably, all of her dopamine, epinephrine, norepinephrine, acetylcholine, GABA—"
"Hank," Logan snarled, cutting him off. Hank gave him an embarrassed smile. "Sorry. To put it concisely, her brain was back to normal within ten minutes, and I don't know how, or why. But I do know that her frontal lobes were functioning at higher levels than are normal for Jean. That's why I suspected a slight personality change. Normally that would indicate brain damage, but physical injuries notwithstanding, Jean has a double cortical mutant manifestation. Her brain is not entirely normal to begin with." Logan stared broodingly at the screen, confused. "Are you saying Jeannie is brain damaged?" he asked. Hank shook his head vehemently. "Not at all," he reassured Logan. "All I am saying is that something caused Jean's brain chemicals to spike, and when that something was no longer a factor in her system, her brain chemicals returned to normal very rapidly. And because her blood tests came back completely clean," he added, running a hand through his mane in frustration, "I am forced to conclude, with far less evidence than I would like to have, that the entire process was completely cerebral and quite likely linked to her mutant abilities."