Crystal lay in the infirmary staring at the ceiling. Why did she have to stay here yesterday? Hank had already told her she was fine, and that she could go when she wished. But Logan forced her to stay, in the cold, white, really bright infirmary. Alone. She protested and even got out of bed to show she was absolutely fine except for a burn on her cheek. He still refused, and she was mad now.

Now she'd been in here for fourteen hours. Hank had come to check on her once or twice, but that was really all the company she'd gotten. And yet, at three in the morning, Crystal was still in the blasted infirmary! This was really annoying. She couldn't sleep with the lights on and in her face, and she was still in her battle armor! She sighed and turned on her side, noticing for the first time that there was another bed in the room. She silently wished someone was in that bed, someone to talk to.

All of the sudden, Hank flipped on yet another light in her room and stood in the doorway, a concerned look on his face. "God, Hank!" Crystal cringed at the light, looking away from the ceiling. "Are ya tryin' ta blind me?" Hank tried to laugh, but she could tell he was straining. He smiled, but she saw worry in his eyes. "No, Crystal, dear, I have no intention to take away your sight. However, I have come to alert you of something."

Crystal shot up in bed and stared at the blue doctor. "What is it? I'm wide awake, tell me!" Hank lost his forced cheeriness as he answered her demand. "You are getting a roommate." She cocked her head. "That's not a bad thing, Hank, why are ya so worried?" She saw, for the first time ever, him look down at his shuffling feet. Hank was nervous? "Well," he continued, his voice slowing to a gentle tone. Something bad was going to happen, and he was trying to keep her calm. Why? Getting a roommate can't be that bad! Crystal thought to herself as Beast continued. "Your 'roommate', so to speak, is…Gambit."

Crystal was shocked, but relieved. He was worried about Gambit, not her! Wait a second; Gambit was going to be put in the infirmary? She paled. "W-When's he comin' in?" she stammered, trying not to scream. "Now," said a voice from the hall, "Move over! C'mon, Hank, help me here, the Cajun needs to lose a couple o' pounds." It was Logan. He must have been carrying Remy, because Hank turned and sprinted down the cold, tile hallway.

Sure enough, Logan carried Gambit in, Hank following behind him. His usually tan face was as white as the wall opposite of her. "Gambit…?" Crystal could hardly speak. Her love, the one who risks himself for her, the Cajun boy who kissed her yesterday, was unconscious and bleeding in Logan's arms. "Crystal, there is no need to act like that," Hank said, taking Gambit from Logan—who wiped his arm to get the Remy's blood off—and laying him on the bed next to hers.

After a few silent minutes, Hank muttered something to Logan. He nodded and handed Hank a pair of scissors. Crystal again lost color in her face. "W-What are ya gonna do with those?" She pointed a shaky finger at the scissors. Logan answered her, "Wer gunna cut his shirt off so we can see his wounds better." Crystal nodded slowly. That sounded okay, not like something she should be worried about.

She was so wrong.

Crystal almost fainted as the Cajun's shirt was removed. There were so many gruesome gashes, rubbery marks and burns from the wire's repetitive lashings that his whole torso was a bloody mess. Not only that, but after his coat was lightly taken off, (because the men wouldn't like to see an angry Cajun's reaction to his coat being destroyed, lol) his arms were almost worse. Almost. The pale, cold skin was ripped and bloody, the cuts visible from two-hundred feet away.

It pained her to look at him. Gambit was a fighter, he always had been, and to see him like this was torture. Crystal fought back tears as Hank gently rubbed his chest with a wet rag, causing Remy to cry out in pain. "Calm down, Gumbo, yer gonna be fine," Logan muttered to the struggling Cajun, although Crystal could sense her adoptive father's true fear.

Beads of sweat now formed on Remy's forehead as Hank started to pace. Gambit cringed with every touch and Logan watched as the cuts became bloody again. "Relax, Hank," Crystal managed, although she wasn't very relaxed herself. "He's gonna be alright, especially with a doctor like you helping him." Hank stopped and looked back at the Cajun mess. "Yes, I hope you are correct, Crystal, for I'm worried we may not be able to cure him without causing him more pain." Hank muttered as a response.

"Logan?"

"Yea, Krys, what's up?"

"H-He'll, be alright, right?"

"Well…Sweetie, I can't promise ya nothin'."

"But, if he isn't…"

"Hey, don't you git no stupid ideas in yer head, he's a'right, for now."

Hank took out some bandages and gauze. "Well, by the looks of things, we'll just have to wrap him up and cast his leg." Crystal cocked her head. "Cast his leg? You mean, is that why he couldn't stand up in the Danger Room, and you had to help him?" Hank looked her in the eye, his eyes full of emotion. "Yes, that is precisely why. How, Crystal, did you know this if you were unconscious?" She tried to smile. "It was after…the kiss…" Hank raised his eyebrow. "Kiss? He kissed you, did he?"

"A'right, that's enough, Hank," Logan growled, obviously not wanting to bring up that little incident. She grinned. "Logan, you are so overprotective!" He was about to respond when a cough broke the conversation. They all turn to see Gambit sitting up in bed, a couple raspy breaths escaping his lips. "Cajun," Logan started, staring in amazement, "ya feelin' a'right?"

It took a while, but Remy managed to whisper, "No…no, Gambit ain' feelin' d'accord." Crystal jumped up and ran to his side, gripping his hand tight. "Gambit, you're okay! You're gunna be just fine, Hun!" Gambit cringed, but smiled weakly. "Y-Yeah, guess s-so…"

"Listen, Hun, Hank says they're gunna wrap you up and cast your leg, but I think you're fine after that!"

"Cast? G-Gambit's leg?"

"Well, yeah! It's broken, and they're gunna cast it so you can go back to your room!"

"U-Uh…d-dat's great, but…"

Hank cut in by clearing his throat and giving a glance toward Gambit's hand. Crystal blushed and let go, watching the Cajun swipe a look at his arm. "Merde…" he muttered, trying to lift his arm. He yelped as his shoulder moved to an uncomfortable degree. "Calm it down, Gumbo. Yer arm's broken, too." Gambit looked at Wolverine and muttered, "Gee, t'anks f-fo' da warnin'…" Crystal smiled, but there was only a glimpse of happiness behind it.

Gambit sensed her feelings, and said as loud as he could, which was not much beyond a raspy whisper, "You okay, chere? Somt'in—" He was interrupted by a fit of coughs. Crystal cringed at the sound. She hated to see him hurt like this. "Hank," she turned and looked at the big blue doctor. Wrap him up now, cast him, too." Logan and Beast were shocked at here command. "Gambit," she looked back to him with curiosity. "How would you do in a wheelchair?"

…