Hank had told Jean to steer the ship while Scott was put on watch. It was fairly safe to do so: they were traveling through smooth waters at the moment. The others were napping, taking up the third cabin, or wrapping themselves up in blankets and curling up in the main room. He had to pick his way over their bodies as he moved downstairs.
He hesitated before knocking softly on the door to one of the rooms.
"You can come in."
He didn't recognize the voice, so he figured it must be Emma or her niece. Good. He opened the door and found Emma fast asleep, Laura curled under her arm. Laura was watching him with wide eyes, and he smiled brightly at her.
She cocked her head slightly.
"Why are you here?" she asked.
Hank hesitantly put his doctor's bag down and drew up a chair. Laura didn't seem frightened of him, but he'd heard from some of the other X-men how distrustful Emma was of strangers.
"I'm here to make sure your aunt isn't hurt," he said, "And, if she is, to see what I can do to help."
Laura smiled and moved over slightly. Emma didn't stir. He'd imagine she was exhausted, and he winced when he got a good look at the blisters on her forehead. He fished in his bag for a disinfectant wipe and gently brushed it over the injury, trying to clean away the dirt.
Emma's eyelids twitched, but she didn't wake. When he was done, he applied aloe. It was all he could do at the moment, but he knew it would itch terribly when she woke. What she really needed was a shower, and a thorough examination, but the earlier he did this, the better.
As he worked, he could feel Laura's curious eyes on him. He wasn't in his blue form, so he wasn't quite sure why she was staring so much. He pulled the blanket back slightly, saw Emma's filthy arms. Her fingernails, he realized suddenly, were chipped and bloody. Had she been digging her fingers into something?
He cleaned them and bandaged the ones he could. One of her fingernails was missing almost entirely, but it didn't look as though it had happened during the course of the night. It was easy to tell, since she was all bones. That would need to be looked at.
He bandaged it and moved on. Her toenails had similar issues, and her bare feet were thick with cuts. He cleaned and bandaged them as quickly as he could. There was nothing irreparable, at least not physically, but the level of neglect it showed was astounding.
It was also clear that she was badly dehydrated. He'd prepared for this possibility, although he wished he'd prepared more. They hadn't expected two patients who would need this kind of care.
He cleaned the back of her hand and took out an IV line from his bag. He heard Laura shift, and he turned to look at her. Her eyes were wide, looking from Emma's hand to Hank's needle. Hank gave her a gentle smile.
"I just need to give your aunt an injection so she'll be able to get some more water into her," he said, "She needs more water."
Laura nodded, biting her lip.
"You can tell her that when she wakes up," he said, "I'm sure she'll want to know."
Laura stopped biting her lip, but looked thoughtful.
"So...it's not going in her eye?" she asked, "Because that hurts, and I don't want you to hurt her."
Hank stopped what he was doing. He put his needle down, and then moved closer to Laura. She didn't seem afraid, merely put a finger on her eyelid and the area underneath it, widening it. He could just make out the tiny marks that indicated a needle had been slipped there.
Several times.
"Were...was something wrong with your eyes?" he asked.
He dreaded the answer.
"No," Laura said, "I could always see fine. But they said they wanted to see if I could push myself."
She let go of her eyelid.
"He was a doctor," Laura said.
"No he wasn't," Hank snapped.
She jumped slightly, looking suddenly troubled. Hank reached out, unsure if he was doing the right thing. Nonetheless, he placed his hand on her shoulder. She stared at it curiously before looking at his face.
"No one who causes you pain to 'push' you is a doctor," said Hank, "I want you to remember that."
Laura nodded, although she looked slightly puzzled. It was like he'd shifted her entire worldview. Hank swallowed once, inserting the IV and the attached bag into Emma's hand. When he finished, he placed the bag on a nearby dresser.
"Now," he said, "Are you hurt anywhere?"
"No," said Laura, "I'm never been hurt anywhere. Not really. Not since...a month ago I think. So most of my life."
The comment was strange, but now was not the time to investigate. Not the way he wanted to, and not with another person in need across the hall. He'd only come here first because he thought Emma might be worse off.
"I'm sick a lot though," Laura said.
He managed another smile.
"I don't think you'll be quite so sick from now on," he said.
"Why's that?" she asked.
Because people weren't sticking her with needles and doing God knows.
"Just a hunch," said Hank, "You can get back to bed now. Get well rested, and I'll be back in to check up on your aunt soon."
She nodded, snuggling under Emma's arm. The look she gave her aunt was pure adoration, and Hank had to swallow bile. What had they done to her? He didn't say anything though, just tucked her in and gave her one last smile.
When he was out in the hall he put down his case and rubbed his eyes, feeling tiredness and tears gathering. But this was why he had wanted the X-men to return, wasn't it? So that he could help children like Laura. Six years old was too young for this.
"Are you finished yet?"
He turned, jumping, and saw Raven there. Her eyes were flickering to the other door. He thought she'd been asleep with the rest. Evidently his movements had woken her up. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
"I'm going to be seeing to Moira in a minute," Hank mumbled.
She cocked her head.
"Are you alright?" Mystique asked.
"Dandy," he mumbled, "Just, stars and garters..."
"What?"
"Nothing," he muttered, picking up his case.
He moved to the other room, and realized Raven was following him. He looked at her and frowned.
"I'm not sure Charles and Moira will want an audience," he said.
"I just need to make sure you don't do anything stupid while you're in there," she said.
He pursed his lips.
"Fine. Whatever," he said, "Because, apparently, I can't be trusted to be a doctor anymore. It's not like I was actually trained to do that or anything."
"Hank, that came out wrong," Raven said, looking uncertain, "It's just that, there are some things you don't...it's just...it's complicated."
"Forget it," he said.
He opened the door, forgetting to knock. Charles didn't look too perturbed though. His wheelchair was abandoned, and he'd maneuvered himself so he was seated on the cot, his back to the wall. Moira's pillow was propped up by his legs, and her head was resting on top, turned to the side.
One of her hands was in front of her face, and Hank realized it was clasping Charles's. His arm was laying gently across her shoulder. When Hank took a step in, Charles put a finger to his lips. Moira, like Emma, was fast asleep.
Hank nodded and walked in, followed by Raven. He wasn't sure if Charles realized his sister was going to be an audience member, but he decided not to bring it up. Instead he gently took her pulse and checked her for any visible injuries. There were a few superficial scrapes, but other than that she seemed fine for current injuries.
Older ones were different. A few cigarette burns were visible on her arms. Hank heard Charles suck in a breath when they were revealed, could feel his eyes follow Hank's movements as he cleaned them.
"They're not infected," Hank murmured, "So, we can thank God for small mercies."
"Good," Raven said, "Because there's not much else we can thank him for right now."
"We're all here," said Charles, not looking up from Moira, "We're all alive. I call that a win."
Hank chose not to comment, instead digging around for his other IV bag. Moira too looked dehydrated. He cleaned her hand, eyeing a large vein that should work for the IV.
"What's that?" asked Raven.
"Just fluids," Hank said, irritated.
She didn't say anything else, and he finished his work. He got up.
"I'll need to plan out their diets for the next month at least," Hank said, "Emma's will have to be regulated for longer. She's in a pretty bad state of starvation. Moira not so much, and Laura looks fine, but they can't just start eating cheeseburgers. They'll be able to eat what I tell them to, and nothing else."
"There might be certain things Moira can't have," Charles said.
"What do you mean?" asked Hank.
Charles's thumb began stroking the back of Moira's hand.
"I trust your discretion in this, at least until I know for certain how she wants to tell everyone, and if she even knows," said Charles, "But you're her doctor, and you need to know that we're...we're expecting...she's pregnant. Around a month."
Hank's mouth went dry. So many questions raced through his mind. Moira was, if he was any judge, forty-five. Charles was nearly fifty, and in a wheelchair. The odds of this happening were slim. Her keeping the baby safely through what she'd been through was another layer of improbability, but apparently, it had worked.
How did Charles even know that she was pregnant? Could, looking at Charles's question, Moira know? It was unlikely. Morning sickness could be chalked up to conditions, and she couldn't be that far along. Conditions might exacerbate it, but still.
However, the questions could wait. The doctor within him warred with the friend for a moment, but the friend triumphed. He smiled gently.
"Congratulations," said Hank.
"Thank you," Charles said.
Hank cleared his throat.
"But...how do you know?" he asked, "No offense, but, you said she might not know, so I guess she didn't tell you."
"She didn't," Charles said, "Essex...he wanted to...never mind. I know she's pregnant."
"So do I," said Raven.
Hank turned, her intrusion now cast in a different light. She gave a small shrug.
"Did she tell you?" asked Charles.
"One of Essex's minions was trying to get a rise out of me," said Raven, "She knew I was your sister. Thought I might make a mistake I guess."
Charles gave a small nod and turned his attention back to Moira.
"Well then, we'll have to be extra careful with her," said Hank, "Do you...you say about a month. Do you know a more precise date or...?"
It was an awkward question to ask Charles, his friend and mentor, but it was a necessary one.
"Four weeks and three days," Charles said.
"Right," Hank said, trying to stop his mind before he figured out what had been going on that day, "Right. I'll be going upstairs. Jean'll probably be relieved to have me take over."
Charles gave him a small nod, and Hank gathered his materials. He heard the door close, and discovered Raven had left without a word. He would, he realized then, never really figure out how she saw a situation, how her mind worked. Perhaps that was just the way it was.
He paused in the doorway, looking back. Charles was still gripping Moira's hand tenderly. His mind drifted back to the day when they were trying to find the source of Jean's nightmare, Charles's expression when he saw her through Cerebro.
It had been nothing compared to the depth of what he saw now.
"I mean it Charles," Hank said quietly, "Congratulations. You both deserve to be happy."
Charles smiled, a strange smile that seemed to encapsulate the decades where Hank had watched him crumble and glue himself back together.
"Thank you Hank," he said, "Truly, thank you."