Rescue Mission
Logan opened the large oak doors to the Osborn mansion, the others stumbling in behind him. His muscles were sore and he was tired. He needed a drink and an empty room to mourn in.
He entered the living room, flipping the light on and kicking his shoes off with a defeated sigh.
“Hello, Logan.” Charles’ familiar voice startled Logan, almost knocking him over.
“Chuck!” Logan spun around to greet his friend, but the bright green eyes of Jean Grey stopped him in his tracks. A group of miscellaneous powered people relaxed behind the professor: Toad; Mystique; Gambit; Angel; Colossus; Spyke; and two faces Logan had never personally met; but he only cared about one. “Jean.”
The others ran into the room, hope and excitement on their faces at Logan’s cry. John’s face fell when he saw the group of mutants, but a polite smile quickly returned as he locked eyes with his former friend. “Hi, Mystique.”
“How’d you guys find us?” Alex looked one minute from breaking down, his hair a mess and his fresh shirt inside out.
“I am a telepath, you know.” Charles pointed to his head. “And I brought a few others I thought could help. You’re my last stop.”
Jean watched the entryway, anxious hope in her eyes that sunk into disappointment. Logan shook his head at her, to confirm her suspicions. The smell of salt filled his lungs, coaxing the sting of tears to his own eyes. Jean rushed to Alex, giving him a big hug. Logan felt obligated to look away, like this was a moment between a grieving family that he was not a part of. He kept his eyes to the floor until gentle hands pulled his shoulders against Jean’s chest. Her hair tickled his nose, but he couldn’t be bothered to move. “I’m sorry.” Jean whispered in his ear.
She pulled away, addressing the entire group. “Who all did you lose?”
“Bobby, Rogue, Hank, and Scott. But there were more at the mansion we couldn’t help.” Kitty’s tears were back at full force, and Logan didn’t miss the way Alex and John turned away from the group, the room filling with sadness.
“We all lost people.” Evan Daniels spoke up. “It’s like they’re ramping up. Last night it was the mansion, but today they went after everybody. They took Ororo.”
“Oh, Evan. I’m so sorry about your aunt.” Kitty rushed to her old friend, wrapping him in a constrictive hug.
“They got Morph, Kurt, Sabertooth, and Blob at the mansion. And now they have Quicksilver and Avalanche.” Raven spoke. “We’re running out of people and time.”
“Where’s Magneto?” Logan scanned the room, some familiar faces, a few new faces, but many missing faces.
“He was captured, as well, sadly.” Charles gripped the armrest on his chair.
“Along with Ben and Reed.” A blonde hotshot Logan only vaguely recognized from the news said, snapping fire on and off in his hand until John irritatedly smothered it.
“They’re not just going after Mutants. They’re going after anyone with powers that harbour mutants, like my husband, and arresting those without powers.” Another blonde Logan barely recognized. Perhaps it didn’t help that her face kept disappearing with her anxiety.
A familiar, welcome form pushed her way from behind Piotr. Laura. Logan’s chest filled with relief. That poor girl had been through enough captivity for infinite lifetimes. “You’re all taking too long. I know you’re grieving, but this is unproductive. We need a plan.”
“We’re all just comparing notes, Chere. Give us time.” Remy shuffled cards in his hand.
“We don’t have time!” Laura argued. “You wanna know who’s been captured and who’s safe? Fine! We know they have Sabertooth, Storm, Quicksilver, Magneto, Cyclops, Beast, Morph, Nightcrawler, Iceman, Blob, Scarlet Witch, The Thing, Avalanche, Mr. Fantastic, and Rogue. Jubilee is at Warren’s house caring for some of the escaped students.” Laura motioned toward Warren. “There are more students with the Morlocks. Boom Boom, Magma, Sunspot, Wolfsbane, Cannonball, Berzerker, Multiple Man, along with countless others are unaccounted for. Psylocke and Polaris are with the rest of Genosha in hiding. There, that’s everything we know, can we move onto the action now?”
“And we know everyone that’s here, of course.” Toad spoke up, crouching on an armchair stinking up the entire room with his presence.
“Yes, of course we know that, you absolute imbecile.” Raven rolled her eyes, clearly having even less tolerance for the creature than Logan.
“We won’t get anywhere arguing with each other.” Charles intervened. “We know Trask has a telepath, it’s why we couldn’t contact or locate any of you until today. I felt his presence at the hearing, only, I could not get a clear enough image to know who he is or why he’s helping the Mutant Registration Division. However, now that I’ve tracked all of you to collect you, he knows where we are, which means it’s of great importance that we act fast.”
“I have schematics of where we think they’re holding everyone.” Kitty held up her paper. “There’s what looks like holding cells, and…a laboratory.”
“You mean they’re experimenting on them!?” Logan’s jaw clenched so tight he thought his teeth might break.
“Yes. That is what would be expected, given Trask’s history.” Charles confirmed.
-
Scott’s legs tingled and his arms burned as the numbness lifted. His fingers were able to twitch, but nothing more. He listened to the doctors, or scientists, he couldn’t tell which.
“Wake him up.” The person Scott had deduced was the leader ordered. Scott pushed as hard as he could until his neck finally allowed his head to turn. The doctors stood over Erik Lenshire, a needle in one’s hand. The needle inched closer to the man’s arm, past his inked numbers, against his skin.
“No!” The word was forced and strained, his vocal cords barely awake. But it did the job. The doctors stopped and looked at Scott. “If you wake him up…he’ll kill everyone in here…including himself.” He panted. Max Eisenhardt would never be experimented on again; this was a promise Magneto had made to himself and the world, and Scott, although he hated the man, intended to keep that promise. “Whatever you want to do, do it to me first.” Scott glanced at Hank, who was still too paralyzed to speak. “Save Bobby.” He mouthed.
The doctors, or scientists, again, he really couldn’t tell the two apart in unethical settings, heeded his warning. The lead ordered the other to keep Erik sedated before walking up to Scott’s table. “Fine, if you want to go first, I’m happy to oblige.” He pulled out a chart. “Your name is Scott Summers?” He looked to Scott to confirm.
“Yes.” Scott choked out.
“And you emit concussive blasts from your eyes?”
“Yes.”
“And you are a part of a mutant organization called the X-Men?”
“Yes.”
“You go by the name Cyclops?”
“Yes.”
“Congratulations Mr. Summers, your registration is confirmed.” A knot twisted under Scott’s ribs at the words. He would have registered, if it had been asked of him, but for the decision to be taken away like that, he had no agency.
The doctor, unaware, or simply unbothered by his actions, moved on, forcing Scott along with him. “Do you have any allergies, Mr. Summers?”
“No.”
“Any medical conditions we should be aware of?”
“I don’t know. What are you going to do to me?” Scott’s voice slowly warmed up to the usage, each word slipping out smoother.
“Well, Mr. Summers, we’re just going to run you through a few tests and collect a few DNA samples. However, these procedures can be difficult on the body. Do you have any heart conditions? Recent surgeries? Really, anything major that might impact your ability to withstand certain procedures?”
“I have chronic head trauma.”
“I see.” The doctor scribbled something on his pad. “I can see that complicating the use of your powers. Does it impact your abilities at all?” The doctor motioned for his underling to come over. The two moved Scott’s table, the wheels underneath him squeaking as they rolled. The table bumped under seams in the floor every few seconds.
“Where are we going?”
“Try to stay focused Mr. Summers. How does your head injury impact the use of your powers?”
Scott’s hands managed to clench, his fingers still barely digging into his skin. His heart, not impacted by the paralytic, ran rampant through his chest. Is this how Wolverine felt? “I can’t control my powers. A-and I get a concussion… if I use the f-full force of my ability… without something to stabilize me.” He trailed in and out of his sentences, too distracted by the scenery around him. The lights on the ceiling rolled past in a row, casting a greenish hue on the concrete walls. They passed closed doors and empty rooms, random pieces of construction equipment had been left out, lining the halls. Screams and pleas from other mutants bounced off the floor. They entered a room, this one empty aside from what looked like torture devices, but what he assumed were medical tools. “Are you going to change me?”
“Change you how?”
“Make me human, or…brainwash me to be some sort of weapon?”
The man chuckled. “We aren’t in the business of turning mutants into weapons, Mr. Summers. We’re not Willaim Stryker.”
“What are you in the business of then?”
The doctor strapped an elastic band around Scott’s bicep. “You’re going to feel a little poke.” The doctor stuck Scott with a needle, drawing his blood. Scott flinched at the pinch, but it was nothing for what he expected to feel soon.
“When did your powers develop, Mr. Summers?”
“At puberty, like most.” As the feeling in his skin returned, the straps pinning his wrists and ankles to the table began to itch.
“We’re going to collect some spinal fluid from you in a little bit, but first, I would like to target the area of mutation. We took the liberty of replacing your vizor with one of our own. It will allow me access to, and a visual of, your eyes.” The doctor pulled out a long needle, holding it in the air to inspect it. Scott’s heart beat so loudly he could barely hear his own staggered breathing.
The second experimenter strapped Scott’s head to the table, forcing him still. “Now, it is important that you stay perfectly still for this. We would give you more paralytic and anesthetic, but that could impact the results of our tests, so we are going to have to do this completely sober.” Scott closed his eyes as the needle crept closer but the doctor warned him against that approach. “Keep your eyes open, we need to see what we’re doing or else this could be much more painful than it already is, and it could permanently damage your eye.”
The needle inched toward his left eye. It entered a small hole in the visor, blocking a tiny stream of light that had been boring a slow, tiny hole in the ceiling. The needle reached his eye, entering the soft, wet tissue like a knife slicing into butter. Scott fought the jolt of his reflexes. The pain worsened the deeper the needle got. His lungs begged to scream, his body wanted to run away, but he held as still as possible, every micro-movement excruciating. His toes curled and his fingers clenched, finally strong enough for his fingernails to break the skin on his palm, the pain located elsewhere a welcome distraction. He cursed at a persistent squeak adding to his stimulation, until he realized the squeak was him, whimpers from a scream caught in his throat.
The needle exited his eye just as slowly, and just as painfully. Tears pooled under his visor, escaping through a small gap above his cheekbone. His vision started to blur, his muscles collapsing from exhaustion, his thoughts became fuzzy and unorganized. Then, everything went black.
-
Logan rushed down the dark hallway, Jean leading him through the labyrinth that was this military bunker.
“This way!” She indicated for Logan to follow her left.
The walls smelled like mold and the whirring of the LED bulbs derailed Logan’s thoughts back to Alkali Lake.
They entered a room and Logan was immediately hit with the scent of cleaning products, blurring the abundant panic in the room. Their friends lay on rolling tables, strapped down like animals at the vet.
Jean gasped, her thoughts projecting into Logan’s head. Shock and horror tingled down his spine. She must feel all of their fear. ‘What are they doing to them?’ ‘Where’s Scott?’
Logan scanned the room, no annoying prick to be seen. “You free the others, and call for backup, I’ll find Scott.” Seeing the look of the room, the medical examination tools and registration forms, he didn’t want Jean to see whatever they were doing to Scott.
Jean immediately freed Hank and Bobby, the two jumping to help the others.
Logan rushed out of the room following the scent of mahogany and anxiety, Scott’s signature smell. “I can help!” Rogue called after Logan, but Logan was far too preoccupied to stop and accept help.
He searched every empty room until he made it to two double doors. Two sets of feet scuffled around behind the barriers, voices murmuring low. Logan pushed the doors open, claws ready. Two men in white lab coats stood over Scott, odd tools in their hands.
Scott’s heart beat steadily, his breathing slow, but stale sweat scented with pain and fear clung to his skin. His wrists were raw around his restraints.
All too familiar animalistic rage overwhelmed Logan, his face hot and his muscles tense. He charged at the men with a roar, flinging his body into the one, tackling him to the ground, claws lodged in his chest. The other doctor scrambled to get away, reaching for a call button, but Logan flung himself at the man’s ankles, slicing the back of his knees. The man fell to the floor with a scream, and Logan put him out of his misery with a quick stab to the head.
His pounding heart mingled with the slowing hearts around him. The pressure in his head eased as he stood up, inspecting Scott on the table. The flashes of Alkali Lake subsided, his mind clearing enough to focus on the task at hand. “Scott.” Logan’s voice refused to project, instead coming out as a strained wheeze. He placed his hands on Scott’s shoulders, remembering his first aid training. “Cyclops!” He smacked his friend’s shoulders.
Scott’s eyebrows furrowed, his head drifting away from Logan ever so slightly. “Hey.” Logan whispered, cupping Scott’s face. “You gotta get up.”
A muffled voice pierced through the haze in Scott’s pounding head. A warm hand tickled his sore skin; Logan’s sweaty musk, cigarettes and alcohol, an aroma usually repulsive to him, now a welcome comfort. Scott opened his stinging eyes, light flooding his vision, blurring out everything until they adjusted, revealing the image of a concerned Logan.
Scott lifted a shaky hand for Logan to take. He slowly sat up, Logan pulling him most of the way, his muscles quaking, his spine stabbing. He slid off the table, his bare feet hitting the cold, crusty concrete. He nearly collapsed onto his short friend, but Logan caught him, holding most of Scott’s weight.
Logan clung to Scott’s waist, letting the man hang on his shoulder. Scott’s grip was light, his body tremouring ever so slightly. Logan wished he were better at these things; he wished he could comfort like Jean or say exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment like Scott. For the first time, Logan wished he could be Scott to talk to Scott. But Logan wasn’t Scott, and all he could provide was a way out, so that was what he had to focus on, getting Scott the hell out of there.
“Erik?” Scott groaned out.
“Nah, I’m Logan, Cyke. They do something to your brain?”
Scott tried to chuckle, but the air got caught in his dry throat. “No, is Erik safe?”
“Magneto?” Logan gaped, helping Scott to the hallway. “You were just fucking tortured and your first thought is ‘is Magneto okay’?” Logan mimicked Scott in a taunting voice. Scott didn’t have the energy to explain and he couldn’t find the words to argue, so he simply flipped out his middle finger and attempted to stand on his own. He stumbled a little, but his muscles were quickly regaining their strength.
“So what kinda medical establishment do they got goin’ on here, anyway?”
“Am I wearing one of those stupid buttless nightgowns?” Scott snarked.
Logan looked at him unimpressed as he led the man through the maze of hallways. “The lack of a hospital gown was not my first clue that this place was shady, Slim.”
Scott’s mind sidetracked to playing slim shady until Logan spoke the most beautiful, perfect words Scott had ever heard. “Let’s go find Jeanie and the others.” Scott spun around, so elated he almost grabbed Logan’s face and kissed him. The realization of the near-action sent him retreating back behind his intimacy barricade.
He straightened his posture and turned away. “You found her?”
Logan eyed Scott. His demeanor had shifted so quickly. Perhaps Scott didn’t want Jean to see him this way? Maybe he was worried for her? Logan couldn’t know for sure, but if Scott didn’t want to talk about it, Logan would be the last person to force him. “I came here with her, and a whole bunch of others too.”
Two soldiers with a weird-looking man in a hooded cloak sandwiched between them approached. The soldiers held their guns to Logan and Scott, the weirdo scuttling toward them. Logan mentally praised the distraction team for doing such a good job that these men were the first he had encountered since splitting up.
Scott lifted the stupid new visor the doctor had forced upon him, disarming the soldiers. Logan crouched, releasing his claws.
The world twisted around Scott, pressure building in his head until-pop!-the world was normal again, only, Scott was a foot closer to the ground now, and his body felt…normal again. There were no aching muscles or screaming joints. No sore bones or irritated eyes. His back felt perfect and-OH HOLY SHIT! Scott stood beside himself, his body crouching in that stupid Wolverine crouch. He looked down at the body he was in. Oh no no no no no no no no. This couldn’t be happening. Wolverine’s body was where Scott’s body was supposed to be. Scott was in Logan’s body.
Logan looked at himself. He had to do a double take, his body looking frantic and confused. He smirked at his discombobulated friend, realizing that they must have switched brains. So that was the telepath. “That guy’s the bad guy.” Logan brought Scott back to their hilarious, but dire situation.
Scott reached for his visor but ended up stabbing himself in the head. He collapsed for a moment, leaving Logan to inwardly laugh at his misfortune until Wolverine lifted the visor from his face and was immediately thrown backward by the force. His constantly pained body hit the floor, hard, his head only spared more trauma by the luck of falling onto Logan’s-or…Scott’s-body. This was getting confusing.
It had been forever since Logan had felt lingering physical pain, and he was not enjoying it. His body felt tall and wirey, off balance, like one strong wind would knock him over. He clamored to his feet, Scott, finally regenerated after his head wound, stirring behind him.
Logan tackled one of the soldiers, giving up on learning Scott’s powers for now. Hitting hurt a lot more now, but getting hit hurt even more.
The freaky little telepath had completely disappeared in the chaos, but Scott was too focused on trying to keep the one guard away from his firearms. He threw a punch at the man’s jaw, the loud clang undercut by the sound of teeth hitting the concrete. The man collapsed to the ground, his lower jaw completely detached from the upper one. Oh god. Scott wanted to throw up, but thanks to Logan’s iron stomach, he didn’t. At least that was something they had in common.
“A little help here?” Logan sassed, struggling to keep his soldier in a chokehold.
“No way! I’m not gonna accidentally kill somebody with your powers, Wolverine.” Scott backed away with his hands in the air. “But-nevermind, I’ll just help you.” He came up behind Logan, tilting Logan’s head toward his target with a gentle hand. He then stabilized Logan’s head and lifted the visor a quarter of the way off his face. The blast hit the man directly in the forehead, slamming his head against the ground, knocking him unconscious.
“You don’t wanna kill anybody?” Logan looked at Scott furiously. “After what they did to you?! What they’re doing to everyone?!” Logan clenched his fist, his nails hitting punctured skin with a jolt. He released his hand, inspecting the nail marks in Scott’s palm, the sight increasing his fury.
“I didn’t say that.” Scott held Logan in a hard stare only effective with his uncovered eyes. “I said I don’t want to kill anyone accidentally.”
“What’s the difference?” Logan threw his hands up in exasperation. Scott’s need for constant control was draining.
“There’s a big difference, Wolverine.” Scott quickly changed the subject, his thoughts drifting to the only thing that mattered. Jean. And getting the rest of his family to safety. “How do we get out of here?” Logan huffed, limping in front of Scott to lead the way. “Maybe I should go first? I don’t want you getting my body shot.”
Logan flipped Scott off, he could never tell him that he was right, or that Logan worried about his safety. He slowed his pace, letting Scott take the front in his regenerative body. “So how the hell do I use these things anyway?” Logan motioned toward his eyes.
Scott smiled, happy to explain his powers to Logan. “Well, if you had paid attention to my lectures, any of the times you helped sub for Jean, you would already know this.” He couldn’t help his sass, his body felt amazing and he was excited to see the love of his life again. “Just remember two things. The first thing is, if you go too hard, you’ll destroy a lot of stuff and get knocked over; and I don’t appreciate more brain injuries. The second thing, start slow. Before I got a feel for my powers and my visor, I had a lot of trial and error. So, the best way to avoid going too big, is by starting small. Lift the visor slowly until you reach the amount you need to get the job done.”
“That was a real’ wordy way of saying lift the visor a little bit at a time.” Logan snarked. “Need any help with my powers?”
“Nope. I got the hang of it now.” Scott flexed his claws in and out to prove to his colleague. “You see, unlike you, I actually pay attention when you talk.”
“You sure are chatty right now, why don’t we switch bodies back and see how talkative you are then?” Scott ignored Logan’s complaints, after all, he couldn’t blame the man, he was in a lot of pain.
They rounded a corner, running right into four guards and the same creepy dude. Who the hell was this guy?
Logan immediately employed his new tactics, blasting two of the guards into the wall. Hey, this was kinda fun.
Scott charged at one of the guards, the weight and height of his body new but easy to master with a little math. He released his claws, slashing the guard’s chest and stomach. The final guard shot Scott with three bullets but Logan’s adamantium skeleton deflected two rounds, the third swallowed and spit back out by his sternum. He crushed the man’s foot with a sharp stomp, stabbing him in the throat. It was ruthless, but it was what he had to do to survive.
“Cyclops!” Logan called for help. His hand was frozen on his visor. Scott turned to attack the telepath but his body held still.
A red flash blurred past them and Logan could move his body again. He checked on Scott, the man grinning like a fool. Warmth filled Logan’s heart. Jean. He looked to the telepath, collapsed on his knees, Jean’s hands around his head.
“Jean!” Scott excitedly greeted. Jean turned to him, a fond smile on her face. Her smile turned to a confused frown for a moment, before it switched to an elated grin.
“Scott! What are you-?” She looked at the telepath in her hands, understanding setting in.
“Who is he? Why is he helping them?” Logan set them back on track.
“His name is Milo. He’s just some scared mutant. He’s doing what he thinks will secure his safety.”
“Then he’s an idiot.” Scott muttered, and he wasn’t wrong. You would have to be incredibly selfish to throw your entire species under the bus to save yourself.
“Is there any hope?” Scott didn’t need to clarify, he knew Jean understood him.
Jean searched the telepath’s mind. After a minute of silence, she shook her head, a grimm frown on her rose lips. “He’ll always serve what he thinks is his best interest. And he thinks this is.”
“Can you change that?”
“If he weren’t a telepath.”
Scott measured every variable in his head, ran through every possible solution and every problem that could arise. He let out a deep sigh, resigned to do what was necessary. “Okay. Can you change us back without letting him loose?”
Jean closed her eyes, her arm raising toward the two, her eyebrows furrowed with concentration. The world twisted, pressure building in Scott’s head until he was finally back in his own sore body.
Logan grasped his body in a tight hug. “I missed you so much!” He told his regenerative skin. His height was perfect, his mass amazing. Every imperfection he had ever disliked about his body was a welcomed return. He looked to Scott, expecting to see the same exhilaration, but no. Scott propped himself against the wall, continuing his conversation with Jean. Logan didn’t care about that, though, he was focused on his own thoughts. “Why the hell aren’t you happy to be back in your body, Pretty Boy?” He interrupted.
Scott tore his attention from Jean and the telepath to entertain Logan’s exasperated confusion. He shrugged. “I guess I don’t have as intimate a relationship with my body as you do.” His words were tinged with sarcasm he hadn’t meant to slip in.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“Your body was a vessel to get a job done, the same as this one.” Scott motioned to his torso, starting to get annoyed with the distraction.
“That’s a pretty bleak way of viewin’ yourself.”
“Jean.” Scott turned back to his wife to continue their discussion, ignoring his baffled friend. “Would wiping his memory completely work?”
“I don’t think I can completely. With telepaths it’s tricky. It’s very easy for us to recover lost memories. I worry that would make him a worse monster.”
The all-familiar pit of discomfort returned to Scott’s abdomen. “Logan.” He motioned to the telepath with a somber frown.
“Wait! Scott! The professor wouldn’t want us to kill anyone.” Jean pleaded with her emerald eyes and Scott’s stomach twisted, making him nauseated.
“And what do you think? Do we have any other options?”
“As long as he’s alive, Jeanie, we can’t be safe. He can find us anywhere, any mutant. It’s just a matter of time.” Logan chimed in.
Jean’s shoulders fell, and she closed her eyes. She turned away. “Fine, but I don’t want-”
“He won’t have to.” Logan assured, releasing his claws.
Scott pulled Jean away from the telepath. “Focus on me, okay? I don’t want you inside-”
“I can’t, Scott. I have to keep him subdued.” Jean’s face contorted as she held her concentration.
“You won’t feel a thing, Red. I promise.” A quick slice and some blood-spatter later and the job was done. “Off with his head.” Logan smirked, earning a glare from Jean.
“Wolverine! Get your ass over here now and help us escape!” Laura’s voice echoed in Logan’s ears.
“Come on, we gotta go.” He grabbed Scott’s arm, slinging it over his shoulder and stabilizing Scott’s waist with his free hand. “Hey, defyin’ Chuck ain't easy. Proud of ya.” His voice was low, to keep Jean from hearing his nice words. He couldn’t let her think he had gotten fond of her husband.
Scott looked away, hiding the flush on his cheeks. Logan’s accent always increased when he was sincere, a way to avoid intimacy, but the sentiment still stood, and by god were those words Scott needed to hear.
“Is everyone safe?” Scott kept to the task at hand, ignoring the fluttering of his stomach.
Jean scrunched her nose, connecting with everyone’s minds. “We have everyone.”
“Tell them it’s time to go.” Jean nodded, following his command.
The three fought their way through soldiers, MRD, and base guards. They reconnected with their group outside the base where Hank and Piotr carried Erik to the X-jet.
“How the hell did you get ahold of the X-jet?” Scott questioned Raven as Logan helped him onto the plane.
“It’s a long story.” Raven dismissed.
“Everyone is here.” Charles announced, as he started the plane’s engine.
“What the hell happened, Chuck? You were supposed to keep that telepath under control.” Logan accused.
“There were complications.” Charles' vague answer pissed the mutant off.
“What kinda complications!?”
“Erik’s sedative was starting to wear off.” Charles ignored Logan’s growl, continuing to prep the plane.
Logan helped Scott into a seat, seething at Scott’s grimace. “I wish I could do more for ya.” He buckled Scott’s seatbelt, despite Scott’s insistence that he didn’t need help.
“You gave me a break from the pain. That was everything.” Scott assured, still trying to fight Logan’s hovering hands. He wasn’t a child, he didn’t need constant monitoring. Logan gave Scott a skeptical look, but backed off, finding a seat next to Laura and Morph to check in on them during the flight.
Jean sat beside Scott, her hand clasping his. ‘He’s just worried.’ She projected.
‘I know, he doesn’t have to be. I’m fine. Despite not having a healing factor, I’m not fragile.’
‘It’s not that, Scott. He went through the Weapon X program and he did it alone. He’s making sure you aren’t alone.’
Scott’s frustration immediately switched to gratitude. He hadn’t thought of it like that.
“Scott!” Alex nearly tackled Scott in his seat. He had finished checking on Hank and was now completely focused on his brother.
“Woah! Careful now!” Scott warned Alex, reciprocating his constrictive hug. “Are you okay?”
“Are you okay!? I heard what happened! Why the hell did you volunteer?”
“It’s what a leader does.” Scott pushed Alex off of him, the hug choking him and aggravating his spine.
“Wrong answer.” Alex smacked Scott’s arm, giving him a warning look. “We’re gonna have a bigger conversation about your reckless behavior later.” Alex mimicked a line Scott had used on him three years earlier.
Scott chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Okay. I look forward to it.” He couldn’t hide his pleased smile. He had everyone back. Everyone was safe; at least for now.