I've said it once, and I'll say it again: I love the benefits that come from being an Avenger.

With a couple of quick phone calls, I managed to get my hands on Cloak, a metahuman who can transport a large amount of people from one place to another. Unlike Nightcrawler, he doesn't get sick or weary when he teleports, so I didn't feel too bad about asking. Besides, he owed me a favor. He managed to get me, the X-Men, and the turtles back to the Xavier Institute in no time at all.

I give MJ a call, telling her that I should be home by tonight. I just want to make sure that no one's injuries proved fatal. She seems shocked that Donatello was the only of the turtles to be able to walk away from this, but I ask her, "Why? You did say he reminds you of me, right?"

Her response? "Oh, I see. Then he was crouching in a corner and making wisecracks the whole time, wasn't he?" Ouch. Touché. Even more so because it was pretty close to fact.

Since I don't want to surprise the younger students at the Institute, I figure that it's best to take off my uniform and walk around in civilian wear. Wasn't too keen on borrowing Cyclops' clothes, but hey; you take what you can get. Besides, so long as I don't wrinkle them, I don't think old One-Eye is going to get on my case.

As I step off the elevator so I can head towards the infirmary, I happen to catch sight of Hank coming out of one of the rooms. He sees me coming and waits for me, knowing that I'd want to speak with him. "Hey," I ask when I get close enough. "How are the battle-weary?"

"It could have been much worse," Hank confesses. His eyes look a little bleary. Since he's used to not getting any sleep, I imagine that this is a sign of nerves. "Considering the length of Wolverine's claws and the ferocity with which he struck-" I interrupt him, telling him to spare me as many of the gory details as possible and just tell me how they are.

After a moment, he replies, "Rogue is quite ill, of course. However, she seems to have been able to walk away from her encounter with Pestilence with little more than what seems to be the flu virus. Her liver was almost punctured. Almost, but not quite. She will be in pain for quite a long time. However, with the work of some of our resident healers, she should at least be able to walk relatively shortly. Nightcrawler, however…."

There's an awkward pause. "There are two things I'm not liking about this," I tell him. "One, you referred to him by his codename, which you rarely ever do even when you're on the field. And two, you trailed off. It's not like you to trail off, McCoy. Give it to me straight."

It takes him a while, but he finally looks me in the eye and says, "As far as I can tell, he'll live. We can be thankful for that, at least. However, I'm afraid there's frightfully little else I can say. He's lost a lot of blood. Though no major organs were…." It looks like he gets a little pale, but he forces himself to continue. "The healers are doing all they can, and even that doesn't seem to be enough. He's the only one of the others who hasn't regained consciousness."

I look down. Of all the…. Ugh, this isn't fair. If it weren't for Kurt, I'd still have no clue what was going on and the four turtles would now be Four Horsemen. Apocalypse would be on his way back to Earth and the natural order of the Celestials would have become unhinged. In plain English: Kurt just saved the world. And of all of the mutants that passed out, he's the only one who's so far gone that he hasn't found his way back yet.

Still, I'm an optimistic kind of guy. Looking back up at Hank, I ask, "So, the turtles… they're good? No demon-y side effects?"

He allows himself a small smile, though he's still clearly concerned about the wounded X-Men. "After I injected them all with the remnants of the mutant cure to be sure that the corrupted X-gene was flushed out of their systems, they seemed to be right as rain. Michelangelo should have been in a coma, given how much contact he had with Rogue. It would appear that the mental discipline she extracted from Splinter may have actually helped her know when enough was enough while simultaneously protecting her from possession. Though Michelangelo's rather sluggish, Raphael seems convinced that that's how he always is. As for the surprisingly vocal reptile, he's just fine. Quite amusing when he's been given an appropriate amount of painkillers. A few bone fractures, but his threshold for pain is quite astounding. Have you noticed how very similar he is to our beloved Wolverine?"

I smirk. Yeah, Wolverine and Raphael? Similar? Who'da thunk it? "What about Leo?" I ask. "He didn't exactly look like he was going to be running around and salsa dancing or anything anytime soon. Though, I've got to admit, the image of Leonardo dancing salsa is even more entertaining than the thought of Raphael on drugs."

"Ah, Leonardo," Hank muses, scratching the back of his head. "I hope you can understand why I decided against telling you what had to be done, Peter. I know how protective you are over those turtles, and I knew you would never permit for the remaining brother to undertake something so dangerous."

"You're dancing around the subject, Hank," I tell him. "Salsa dancing, even. What'd you do?"

After a while, he breathes, "As you know, I'm quite familiar with the composition of the Legacy Virus. I had the idea that, since the introduction of these demons seemed to bring with them a distorted version of the X-gene-"

"You..." I blink, shocked. "Hank, did you… did you shoot Leonardo up with the Legacy Virus? Are you crazy? That stuff's lethal for mutants!"

"For human-mutants, yes," Hank corrects. "But when comparing Leonardo's blood with mine or Kurt's, I found not a single genetic similarity other than the barest traces of a distantly-human link. It was only until after I was satisfied in the knowledge that Leonardo is a completely different kind of mutant that I posed the idea of introducing a weakened version of the virus into his bloodstream."

"But… but it's lethal in some humans, too!" I proclaim. "I mean, didn't it nearly kill Dr. Moira MacTaggert? How could you be so sure that those faint human traces weren't enough to cause a negative reaction to the virus?"

"A small degree of sample testing did the job quite nicely," Hank affirms. "Given my calculations, I suspected that there was only a thirteen percent chance of Leonardo feeling any lasting ill effects, and only a four percent chance that it would prove fatal."

"Even those numbers are a lot higher than I'd like, Hank," I mutter.

"Precisely," he tells me with a small smile. "And that is why I neglected to inform you of them. I left the decision entirely up to Leonardo, and he consulted with Splinter. Since the Legacy Virus would not pose a threat until the carrier possessed the X-gene, I thought it best to use it as a precaution should he accidentally become possessed. Who knew that Leonardo would turn out to be such a martyr?"

"Martyr? Did you just say-?"

"Heavens, forgive me!" Hank interrupts, his eyes going wide. "I didn't mean to insinuate that at all! No, Leonardo is far from Death's door, which is just where we want him. He's currently resting in a room at the end of the hall. Michelangelo said something about wanting to go speak to him, since he feels largely responsible for everything that's happened."

"Aw, poor little Mikey," I murmur, relieved that things seem to be wrapping up. "Maybe I oughta show him the entertainment center you guys have got here. That should make him feel better, though I don't promise that he won't try to steal all of your DVDs."

"So long as he doesn't take any of my seasons of Frasier," he replies with a laugh. "I still haven't had the chance to watch them. Saving lives offers little leisure time." He begins to move away, telling me, "Go ahead and pay them a visit. The rest of the turtles should be around here somewhere. I'll be in my office speaking with Leatherhead, should anyone need me."

I nod at him, continuing on my merry way. I slow down when I pass by an open door, hearing two familiar, heavily-accented voices talking lowly. Poking my head in, I'm surprised to see Colossus and Raphael sitting together. After a quick glance, I see Rogue sleeping in the bed nearby.

"Hey, look," Raphael says, noticing me. Other than a few bandages and darkened patches that I assume to be bruises, he looks pretty good. "It's Spider-… oh no, wait. Mask's off. It's Peter. Hey, you're Peter, and he's Piotr. He's like, a Russian version 'a you."

"Very intelligent observation," I whisper, stepping quietly into the room. "I take it that Hank's happy pills did a number on you, huh?"

"Pills?" Raphael seems to think for a moment. "Oh yeah. Got me a couple of shots. Big furry doc you guys got around here. Nice guy, too. I'm gonna buy him a razor for bein' so nice. He said that whatever he put in me was gonna make me a little loopy. But I ain't loopy. Nope, just… okay, so I'm loopy. Woo, drugs."

"Henry seemed surprised that he was as uninjured as he was," Colossus informs me. "But I did as Kurt asked. I did my best not to break any bones or to cause any internal bleeding. I only meant for my attack to be painful."

"Thanks a shell of a lot," Raphael mutters sarcastically.

Colossus blinks at him. "What? Is that not what made the demon leave your body? I was only acting as instructed." He looks up at me, seeing me looking at Rogue uncomfortably. "Do not be afraid of waking her, comrade. She has been given a large dose of medication as well. Henry knows of her temperament, so decided it best that she remained asleep until the healers can come back from Kurt's room and do what they can."

His eyes go downcast, and I ask how Kurt's holding up. "He has seen better days," comes the reply. "However, he has also seen worse. I do feel rather torn. He was injured because he chose to save my life, and yet I am not by his side. Still, I cannot bear to think of the little Rogue here alone at a time such as this. Besides, Katya is currently at Kurt's bedside, and I do hate seeing her so upset. Especially when she has a new friend doing so well to comfort her."

I raise an eyebrow at the "new friend" comment, and hear Raphael snicker, "Techie's gotta crush." Oh. That Donatello. Maybe he's more like me than I realized. Kitty's pretty cute, after all. Though I'm guessing that he doesn't know she's off the market, so to speak. I should probably do something about that before he ends up getting his poor little heart broken. Besides, there are plenty of other mutants in the sea… or, er, Institute.

"Right," I tell them. "I'm going to go sneak a peek at them." When Raphael chuckled and called me a voyeur, I knew he was more than just a little "loopy." After rolling my eyes, I continue, "You, my little terrapin teammate, really should find a bed to crash in. And before you get any funny ideas, Rogue won't make for a good bunkmate. Not unless you like comas."

"What the shell's a punctuation mark gotta do with anything?"

I open my mouth, but I can't even bring myself to make smart remark. Looking at Colossus, I plead, "Watch him, will you? I nearly expect him to lean out a bay window and scream, 'I'm king of the world!'" As Raphael confesses to having watched Titanic twice, I give them both a wave and head out of the room. I've come to the conclusion that Raphael on drugs may be even more amusing than Leonardo salsa dancing.

It's not too long before my cheery attitude disappears once again. I find Kurt's room, and I don't blame Colossus for not wanting to see Kitty this way. She's crying against Donatello's shoulder, and the turtle looks like he's absolutely at a loss. I quietly make my way into the room and step behind them, putting a hand on Don's shell. He doesn't jump, but I don't really expect him to; he's a ninja, after all.

Kurt isn't looking too good. Most of his chest is bandaged, forming a diagonal line from his left shoulder to what I assume is just above his right hip. There are two younger mutants—a boy and a girl—standing over him, and neither even do so much as spare me a glance. I don't recognize them, so I figure that these were the healers. I always assumed that the effects of a mutant healer were instantaneous, and that's when it hit me: without these two teenagers helping him, Kurt would be dead right now.

"Hey Parker." I look down to see Kitty gazing up at me from Don's shoulder. Her eyes are red and swollen from the tears, but she's trying to put on a brave front. Silly little kitten. "Nice to see you without your uniform, Web Boy. Really wish you'd drop in when we weren't in mortal danger once in a while."

"Oh, you mean like never?" I ask. "Besides, you meet most of your best friends when you're in mortal danger. Isn't that right, Donnie?" He looks up at me. Though his face is still solemn, I can see a small twinkle in his eyes. Yeah, he knows that I know. Hopefully he catches on to the non-verbal man-code for, "She's taken, pal."

Kitty eases up off of Don, saying, "I'm really sorry, Donatello. I didn't mean to break down like that all over your… well, you're not wearing a shirt, but I would've gotten it all wet if you had."

"Hey, it's okay," he tells her quietly. "I'm going to need to break down in a few minutes, too, once all of the external stimuli fade away and the repressed memories start surfacing. You can return the favor then." Ooh, Donnie. Smooth. Real smooth. Parker approved.

"I'm gonna leave you two blossoming bosom buddies alone," I say, figuring that I'll knock some sense into his bald green head a little later. "I'm going to check in on Leo and rag on him for a bit. Nobody gets to play the kamikaze hero around here. That's my role; he can be the understudy, if he wants."

"Good luck convincing him of that," Don tells me.

Back in the hallway, I begin to breathe just a little bit easier. The break of dawn's approaching, and it looks like everyone's checking out okay. Once I'm done looking in on Leo, I can find a bed of my own and sleep for a couple of hours before heading back to the city. Maybe MJ will finally reward me with a home-cooked meal. Yeah, that's a bit reaching, but hey… you never know.

It would be the last room before the corner, I think as I continue down the long corridor. Hank probably didn't want to take a risk. If there's someone potentially contaminated with a strain of the Legacy Virus—no matter how weak—then I can bet the other mutants don't want him walking around them until they know for sure that he's clean.

I'm about two doors away from what I assume to be Leo's room, and I see someone stroll out of the room and move to round the corner. Judging by the shell, I figure it's one of the turtles. The spring in his step convinces me that it isn't likely to be Leo, unless he really has decided to take up salsa. However, given the fact that I suddenly hear a ringing in my ears and a droning in the back of my head, I don't think anyone's headed for dance lessons anytime soon.

"Mike?"

Michelangelo stops just as he's about to turn the corner and whirls around. There's a small table up against the wall with a flower vase on it. I nearly shudder when I see the flowers slowly shrivel up after his hand brushes against them. When I look back up at him, he smirks. Nope, that's not Mikey.

I'm about to say something, but my spider-sense tells me that it'd be a better idea to move my body rather than my mouth. I jump as high as I can, clinging to the ceiling as Michelangelo claps his hands twice in quick succession, sending two fireballs towards where I had just been standing. I jump down to the wall as he sends another one up at the ceiling. Great, time to rebuild the X-Mansion… again.

I look up to see that he's disappeared around the corner. I'm about to give chase when I hear a loud thump coming from the open door of the room that I had thought to be Leo's. Figuring that a possessed turtle can't get too far in a mansion filled with superheroes, I edge towards the room.

Famine and War, I realize. Two of the demons managed to re-enter Mikey's body even when he was unconscious, probably because he was under Pestilence's hold for so long. Pestilence itself must have-

My thoughts are cut off when I hear a strange gurgling sound coming from the room and see Leonardo on the floor with his shell to me. He's on all fours, his body convulsing as though he were dry-heaving. "Leonardo!"

"Stay back!" I had taken a few steps into the room, but stopped. That voice… it can't be Leo's. It doesn't sound anything like the cool, calm leader of a powerful group of ninjas. It sounds… it sounds like the terrified tremor of a frightened old man. "Get out of the room, Peter. Just…." He erupts into a harsh coughing fit, and I try once again to make for him. He scuttles away from me and shouts, "I don't know what it is! It might be contagious! Stay back!"

He turns his head in my direction. I can't help it. I take a step back in alarm. His normally-brown eyes are now a watery yellow, and his smooth green skin is covered in red scales. I suddenly catch wind of a foul smell, and realize that he's been coughing up blood with a hint of something yellow in it. "Get out of here, Peter," he tells me. He winces, as though disgusted by the very feeling of moving his mouth. "Now!"

Covering my nose and mouth with my hand, I quickly back out of the room, close the door, and cry out for Hank.