Author's note: Hello everyone! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Thank you to everyone who reads this, and special thanks to those who take the time to review!

Dangerous

It starts as a relatively normal day in the Danger Room, a few months after Roxanne starts training with the X-Men.

"Beast, you and Huntress are sparring together today," Raven announces, though her reluctance is rather obvious.

Her subtext goes unspoken: don't you dare go easy on her, or I'll skin you alive and turn you into a throw rug.

She needn't have fears on that count. Hank doubts Raven would understand, but he plans on putting every effort into ensuring Roxanne is properly trained before going out into the field, even if it means going twice as hard on her compared to everyone else. That way he can help safeguard her well-being no matter what.

"I think you should try using your claws today," Hank tells the feral woman as they separate from the other X-Men.

Roxanne quickly shakes her head, frowning. "I could hurt you," she protests.

"Well, yes," he acknowledges. "But your claws are a part of you now, and you haven't had many chances to truly practice with them, have you? They have the potential to be a very useful tool for you out in the field, but you won't be able to utilize them properly unless you get used to them, Roxanne."

She purses her lips and wrinkles her nose at him. "Is this how you normally argue? Beating me over the head with logic?"

It takes Hank a moment to realize she's teasing him a little. He grins. "Essentially, yes," he replies.

She snorts, and then- after peeking around Hank's rather mammoth-sized bulk for a second to check that the coast is clear- stands on tiptoe to pull his face down to hers for a lingering kiss. Dr. Cartier's steroid compound thankfully wore off after one use, so he's no longer gigantic and ridiculously huge, but he's still about a foot taller than Roxanne is. "Ok," she agrees.

"Ok, what?" Hank asks blankly. "I've completely forgotten what we were speaking about after that kiss."

Roxanne giggles and rubs her nose against his. He manages to steal another peck from her before she backs away and unsheathes her knuckle claws.

Hank takes a deep breath-

And then he attacks first.

He feints left before reaching right, but Roxanne easily spins under his arm and against his body to dodge him. Again, he has to marvel over how quick she is, a skill only further refined after several sparring sessions with Peter. It's definitely a mark in her favor.

Unfortunately, though, she's just so light that her blows don't do much to Hank thanks to his degree of super-strength. A human- or even a mutant without super-strength like Peter- would be left reeling from her strikes, but a large feral like Hank is (for the most part) unaffected.

Hank can sense her growing frustration, especially after one particularly sharp whack to the chin she lands on him with her boot that he appears to easily shrug off. It hurt, yes, but no more than he can shake off easily without losing focus on her next move.

With a snarl, Roxanne runs at him, claws bared.

Her intention, he realizes a moment too late, is to attempt to jam her claws into the Danger Room's floor to use as leverage and therefore add power to her blow to his face.

Unfortunately, though, he shifts his weight at just the wrong millisecond, and Roxanne stabs his thigh.

All three of the claws of her left hand sink into his flesh, almost up to her knuckles. He won't lie- having almost nine inches of foreign bone jammed into his leg is extremely painful, and he lets out an agonized groan despite his best efforts to keep it quiet.

"Hank!" Roxanne shrieks immediately. "Help, someone help!"

His leg gives out, and she follows him down awkwardly, keeping her claws in the wound. He's dimly aware of the other X-Men rushing over and surrounding them.

"What the hell happened?" Raven demands.

"I- I-" Roxanne begins.

"It wasn't her fault," Hank says firmly, through his teeth- he's coherent enough for that. His eyes meet Roxanne's, which are brimming with tears. "I know you were going for the floor. I moved in the way. I'm sorry."

She shakes her head furiously. "I'm so sorry, Hank."

"Whatever," Raven scoffs. "Roxanne, take your claws out of his leg. We need to see how bad it is."

Roxanne swallows and takes a deep, steadying breath. "I can't," she retorts, her voice strained but calm. "If I severed his femoral artery, he'll bleed out before we can get him to the infirmary. Peter, go get a gurney."

The speedster immediately zips away and reappears with the requested bed.

Everyone looks at the feral woman for further instructions, though Hank can tell this annoys Raven to no end. He doesn't particularly care, though- he clearly has much bigger problems to worry about.

"Alright- Jean," Roxanne says, "I need you to carefully lift Hank up-"

With careful coordination, the X-Men are able to get their injured comrade to the infirmary, with Roxanne wisely still holding her claws in place. Once there, Hank takes over, giving orders to gather the supplies needed to perform an impromptu surgery, with him as the patient.

He stays calm, but Roxanne's concerns are valid- the position of her claws are dangerously close to that vital artery in his thigh, and if that's the case it's only due to her shrewd decision to keep her hand in place that he hasn't bled out already. They'll have to move fast.

"I want you to do it, Roxanne," he tells the feral woman, though he requests that Jean mentally summon Charles and Moira to assist. They'll want to know about all of this, anyway.

"But-"

"I trust you, Roxanne. I believe in you, and I know you can do this," Hank says, reaching out to brush a lock of hair that had fallen out of her bun away from her face. He grins facetiously. "And anyway, this wouldn't be the first time you had to perform spontaneous surgery on me, would it?"

She winces.

He chuckles softly. "I know," he murmurs. "But I'm going to walk you through this, ok?"

Roxanne nods, taking a deep breath. He appreciates that she's trying to be brave for him. "Ok."

"On three. One, two, three-"

It's clear as soon as Roxanne removes her claws from his thigh that she did indeed at least nick his femoral artery. Blood immediately spurts out from his leg in a crimson fountain in concert with his heartbeat. Jubilee jumps on the wound with bandages to staunch the bleeding while Roxanne readies her suture supplies. The teen's efforts are thankfully helped along by the compression of his uniform. Ororo injects Hank with his serum to clear away his fur and un-impede the view of his wounds, followed up a shot of lidocaine to further help with the pain and the restriction of blood flow to the site of the wound.

"Great job, both of you," Hank tells the two of them. He's proud of Ororo and Jubilee for remembering the First Aid training he's given them both.

Roxanne, meanwhile, makes quick work of the sutures to his nicked femoral artery.

"Two more stitches should do it," Hank encourages her, through the black spots appearing in his vision. She worked fast, but he still inevitably lost a lot of blood. "And then..."

And then Hank passes out.

"We-" Charles breaks off. His expression goes from relative calm to outright alarm.

"Charles, what is it?" Moira asks.

"Roxanne stabbed Hank," the telepath replies, maneuvering his wheelchair around his desk and towards the door.

"What?" His wife hurriedly follows him.

Logan snorts and strolls along behind them with decidedly less concern. "She stab him for being boring?"

Moira gives him a reproving glare.

"They were sparring in the Danger Room," Charles explains, adding his own disapproving look to his wife's, "and Jean is afraid that his femoral artery may have been hit. This is serious, Logan."

Well now he feels bad. A little.

"Oh."

The three of them make haste down to the basement, where they find the X-Men hovering around a clearly unconscious Hank in the infirmary.

"He just lost consciousness," Mystique reports. "He lost about a liter of blood. The artery is all sewn up. Just the stab wounds and bandages to do now."

"Give him a transfusion. Two units, to be safe," Charles orders. "Roxanne, are you alright?"

The X-Men part enough for Logan to see his daughter is the one sewing up her boyfriend's thigh.

"I'm fine," she replies, though her shoulders are very tense. "Someone give me two blood bags, please. Those sutures are ready to be cleaned and bandaged, if one of you could help out with that."

Jubilee, Ororo, and Jean all seem happy to help do her bidding, while Charles reviews the feral woman's work so far.

"Well done, Roxanne," the telepath assures her after she gets the transfusion going. "You've saved my friend's life yet again."

"It was my fault he almost died in the first place," she replies morosely, taking Hank's hand.

"What'd you do, princess? Try to chop his balls off and miss?" Logan teases. He feels like it's ok to joke now that the kid is out of danger. The room could use some lightening up, anyway.

Or not.

"Shut up, Logan," Roxanne snaps. "We were sparring, and I- I was aiming for the ground and he moved- Hank wanted me to learn to use my claws, but I was scared to hurt him, and I did-" She takes a shaky breath and wilts. "God, I almost killed him. The man I... I'm too dangerous to even practice with."

Seeing her shoulders hunched over, her posture utterly defeated and brokenhearted, does something to Logan. He pointedly ignores the other mutants and human watching them and puts his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I'll practice with you, Roxanne. I'll teach you how to use your claws properly," he tells her. "It'll be a helluva lot harder to kill me than the Fur Ball, here."

Roxanne gives him a reproving frown for a moment, but then sighs in resignation. "I think I'll have to take you up on that, Logan."

Hank blinks awake then, looking around bemusedly at the small crowd surrounding his bedside. "I seem to have drawn quite the audience," he murmurs.

"From the sounds of it you were millimeters from death, Hank," Charles observes. "You got extremely lucky."

The young scientist squeezes Roxanne's hand, still entwined with his. "I've got more than luck on my side," he says quietly, with a pointed look her way.

She flushes, casting her eyes down shyly.

"Jesus, get a room," Mystique jeers, breaking the moment. "God, you're weird. She just stabbed you, you idiot."

"Raven," Charles scolds, "it was an accident."

"So was the Titanic. People still died."

Peter snorts, and Scott is biting back a smile. The blue kid- Kurt- crosses himself.

"Maybe we should head to lunch?" Jubilee offers, trying to salvage the suddenly very awkward situation.

"Excellent idea, Jubilee," Charles says, "thank you. Training is over for the day, all of you. Let's allow Dr. McCoy to rest, yes?"

Logan notices how Mystique shoots the telepath an indignant look, like she's pissed that he dared to dismiss the team without her approval. What a stupid thing to get her panties in a twist about, he thinks, but it apparently matters a lot to her.

Sure enough, as soon as the kids drift out of the infirmary, the blue chick opens her mouth like she's about to rip her adoptive brother a new one.

"Hey," Logan says, before she can say anything.

Mystique rounds on him, cold yellow eyes narrowed. "What?"

"If you're going to chew Chuck out, do it somewhere else, will you?" the old feral tells her. He gestures towards Hank and Roxanne. "The kid just almost died. Let him get some peace and quiet."

She purses her lips shut, but flounces out of the room without another word.

"Thank you, Logan," Charles tells him gratefully.

Logan shrugs and crosses his arms, eyeing the now empty doorway. "Someone needs to take that woman down a peg," he observes. "Roxanne, maybe you oughta break her face again."