Long Way Down 7 (part 1)
Title : Long Way Down : Chapter 7 : Revalations
Beast put on his glasses, viewing a screen with the results from Cyclops’ tests. The doctor shook his head gravely, and with a few keystrokes, a graph appeared on the screen. Beast sighed and removed his glasses once again to massage the bridge of his nose. Cyclops wasn’t going to get up for a while.
Beast walked over to Scott’s hospital bed. The younger mutant’s eyes were closed behind his protective visor and his breathing was painfully loud and rasping. His hair was drenched in sweat and he shook violently from time to time, whether from cold or fever dreams Beast could not tell. He held up a syringe and filled it with a liquid from a bottle nearby, then tapped out the air bubbles with his clawed index finger, careful not to crack the plastic.
He inserted the needle into the brachial artery and pushed the plastic plunger down. Scott shuddered slightly and then opened his eyes slowly, groaning. Through his glasses all he could see was a blurry, blue mass hovering over him.
“Beast?”
“Yes, I’m here Cyclops. Just trying to get you back in top form,” Beast replied, removing the needle from Scott’s arm and placing a sterilized pad on the small bubble of blood.
“Would you hold this in place for a moment?” Beast asked.
Scott obeyed.
“Wha...? Where are...?”
“We’re back at the Xavier Institute, Scott. You’re in the infirmary. Do you recall what happened?”
“Plague...she...she...”
“Yes. I know,” Beast said sympathetically.
“Did we...get the kid?” Cyclops asked.
Beast hesitated. “No, we did not. Sinister and his aggregation of fiends apprehended her. A most unfortunate turn of events.”
Cyclops tried to swallow and turned his head away.
Wolverine, lying on a bed nearby, opened his eyes. Still in his field uniform he rolled off of the cot and walked groggily over to Beast and Cyclops.
“Hey, doc. How is everyone? Oh, geez. You look like hell, Cyke.” Logan inspected him closer. “You might be sick, too.”
Cyclops looked at the wall, frowning.
“Wolverine!” Beast exclaimed sternly. “You’re...you should still be lying down! You suffered a serious injury!”
“With my powers?” Wolverine shot back. “I’m fine, doc.”
“Logan...your head was embedded in a dumpster...” Beast replied patiently.
“I said I’m fine.”
“Well...all right.”
“Hey! Did we get the lil’ girl?” Wolverine asked hopefully.
“No, I’m afraid not.”
“Oh...” Wolverine looked at the floor.
“Logan, Scott needs a bandage on his arm. Would you get it?” Beast asked.
He shook his head. “You bet. Whatcha want, Cyke? Hearts or puppy dogs?” Logan walked over to a box and took out a package of plain bandages. He took one from the container and placed it over the gauze pad with uncharacteristic gentleness. “Better?”
Cyclops remained silent, frowning at the far wall.
Beast saw Cyclops’ discontentment and tried to separate him from Logan.
“Uh, Wolverine, would you be so kind as to check on Rogue?” Beast asked.
“Sure.” Wolverine walked to the other side of the lab.
Rogue was lying on another bed unconscious. Her left arm was hooked up to an IV, perpetually dripping liquid nutrients into her body.
“Still out cold, huh?” Wolverine asked.
“Yes. Just as bad as when she arrived,” Beast’s voice echoed faintly across the sterile, blue lab.
Light footsteps approached behind Wolverine. He turned to see none other then Storm walking toward him carrying a tray of cups and medical utensils.
“Storm!” Logan exclaimed gruffly. He wrinkled his nose and gave it a cross-eyed glare before speaking again. “How are ya? Feelin’ better?”
Doesn’t smell like Storm...must be cuz she’s sick.
“Why, yes, Logan,” Storm replied in her strong, accented voice. “It is good to see you. Doctor, where would you like these?”
“On the counter is fine,” Beast told her.
Storm set them on a nearby countertop.
“The doc has you workin’ for him? Ya sure you’re up to that?” Wolverine asked.
“Oh, yes. In fact, I volunteered. I have nothing better to do at the moment. I am still recovering and Beast wants me to stay in the infirmary for at least three more days to monitor me,” she replied.
Wolverine nodded and looked around the room. Three incapacitated X-Men - probably four: Storm wasn’t ready to take to the field yet.
He walked over to Iceman who, in contrast to his teammates, was awake and alert and already indulging in a favored pastime: complaining.
“Hey, how’s it goin’?” Wolverine asked.
“Not so hot. My leg hurts and I’m bored out of my mind,” Bobby replied.
Logan lifted the blue blanket and removed the bandage on Bobby’s left leg revealing a five inch long gash exposing red flesh. Wolverine lifted his eyebrows and looked away, replacing the bandage. “’m sure you’ll manage. Well, get better, kid.”
“Thanks.”
Logan turned away from the bed-ridden mutant and looked at the nearby wall. Hooks with medical supplies draping off of them jutted out of the blue metal. Wolverine casually plucked a reflex hammer from its place and experimentally prodded the rubber tip, testing it on random places on his limbs. Becoming quickly bored, he gingerly smacked the metal counter, the light tap erupting into a clatter that almost shook the entire infirmary.
Beast cringed at the obscenely loud noise and shot Logan a look.
“Uh, Wolverine, would you help me for a moment?”
“Sure, Doc.” Wolverine placed the hammer on the counter and walked over to the hairy mutant.
“I need to change Rogue’s IV pack.” Beast, reaching in to a drawer, brought out a plastic sack and he walked over to Rogue’s unconscious body. He plucked the line out of Rogue’s arm. “I just need you to hold this for a moment,” he told Wolverine, handing him the tube.
Beast carefully disconnected the line from the pack that was supported by a metal rack.
Wolverine looked around the room and sniffed.
Beast set the used IV pack on the corner of Rogue’s bed and reached for the new one.
Wolverine began to rock impatiently on his heels.
Beast placed the IV pack into the metal support structure.
“So, uh, Doc...ya look like ya got yer hands full in ‘ere,” Wolverine said.
“Yes. It’s unfortunate that so many of the X-Men were made to suffer. Although, Nightcrawler seems to be doing well. He was aiding me earlier, before you awoke. And Gambit, also.
Wolverine’s eyes popped open.
The Cajun!
Beast connected the tube to the pack and grabbed it from Logan, sticking the needle back into Rogue’s arm.
“There we are.”
“Uh, all right, Doc. I gotta take off. I’ll see ya around. Good t’see ya again, Storm.” Wolverine hurriedly headed for the infirmary door.
“So long, and take care.” Beast watched as the mutant who was lying unconscious not ten minutes earlier stormed out of the room. “‘One must not forget that recovery is brought about not by the physician, but by the sick man himself.’ Georg Groddeck. That most definitely is the case with Wolverine, is it not?” he asked Storm.
Storm smiled.
A crackling on one of the monitors drew Beast’s attention.
“Hank?” Xavier called over the monitor.
“Yes, I’m here Professor.”
“How are things down there?”
“Well...” Beast scanned his mental list of patients. “Cyclops has awoken. But he is still ill and will not be able to work for a while. I would say four or five days. Iceman’s leg will not permit him to walk for weeks. I will stitch it when I am finished here. Storm is up and about now. I know you talked with her earlier. I do not foresee any complications with her recovery.”
Storm walked into view. “Hello, Professor.”
“Hello, Ororo.”
“And Rogue is still unconscious, although I am unaware as to why...” Beast prompted.
“I can enlighten you on that subject,” Xavier responded. “During the battle, Rogue touched Sinister.”
“With her bare skin!” Beast asked, barely managing to school his voice to a proper volume.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. She thought it would weaken him and she would be able to gain his powers. But Sinister is not a mutant. His power was too much for her and she blacked out.”
“Astonishing.” Beast scratched his hairy chin, looking at Rogue. “Well, I shall take the utmost care with her, Professor.”
“I know, Hank. You do a fine job. I will be calling a meeting in the war room within the hour so be prepared to arrive. Good luck, my friend.”
“Thank you, Professor.”
The monitor switched off. Beast walked over to a sink and filled a glass with water, handing it to Scott. Cyclops gulped the liquid down greedily. His head hit the pillow again and he slept. Beast pulled the blanket around his neck.
***
Wolverine rounded the corner and stomped up the staircase, roughly running a hand through his matted hair. The bandage on his head was beginning to come undone, and he impatiently tore it off, stuffing the crumpled wad into the pocket of his flannel pants. Physically, he felt fine already; he would never understand why Beast insisted upon keeping him in the infirmary when his mutant powers could take care of an injury just as easily.
His only worry was Gambit.
The Cajun had been hit hard when the team lost the last child, and this time it was even more personal. Wolverine couldn’t fail to notice the immediate connection between Gambit and Mia - an instant bond of trust - that must have made the loss even harder to bear.
Resolved to do whatever he could to ease Gambit’s mind, Logan reached the landing and approached the familiar wooden door. He paused, taking a deep breath, then raised his hand and knocked.
“Gumbo...it’s me.”
There was no answer. He knocked again, harder this time. The sound echoed down the empty hallway. With the other X-Men either recuperating from injuries or working through the battle’s aftermath with the Professor, the whole mansion felt empty. Shifting his feet uncomfortably, Logan turned his attention back to the door in front of him.
“Gambit, open up.”
He’s in there...I smell ‘im.
Wolverine turned the handle and found that it was unlocked. With one last glance around the desolate hallway, he opened the door and stepped into the tiny room. Instantly, a cold breeze enveloped him, stinging his unprepared eyes. Blinking back tears, he saw that the balcony doors were open and the white curtains danced in the wind. He went forward to close the offending ports but stopped when he glimpsed Gambit on the platform behind the fluttering fabric.
“Gambit. Hey...” he began cautiously.
If he jumps off again...
Wolverine pushed the flapping curtains out of his way and stood in the doorway, squinting at the bright, snowy landscape that greeted him. Gambit did not acknowledge his presence, but remained staring out at the white, rolling hills and evenly spaced evergreens with hands behind his back.
Logan took a tentative step onto the freezing stone with his bare feet. He stifled a shiver, and shifted from one foot to the other, looking for the appropriate words to address his friend.
What am I s’posed to do? Chat about the weather? Give ‘im a hug?
Hesitantly, he started talking, letting every comforting thought he could come up with spill out at once.
“Gambit, I-I’m sorry about what happened. But...They had the upper hand. We weren’t expectin’ them. Besides, you were fightin’ and runnin’ like a madman. You did everything you coulda done and you did it good. You know that, right?” He hoped Gambit wouldn’t answer that question. Still, his lack of response was disconcerting.
Maybe I shouldn't'a said anything at-
The Cajun slowly turned around, keeping his face to the ground. Almost mechanically, he leaned back against the railing and gripped it tightly. As the wind snatched at loose tendrils of chestnut hair, Wolverine could see that Gambit’s eyes were shut tightly.
That can’t be a good sign...
Wolverine shifted uneasily, still stumbling over the proper way to comfort Gambit.
“Gumbo...we’re gonna find her. We ain’t gonna let anything happen t’that pretty li’l girl. Besides, she was really brave during it all. I know she can take care of herself. Hell, she was on her own in that cold building for that long...she has better survival skills than me.” Wolverine chuckled, hoping for some change of expression in Gambit. The Acadian remained motionless.
Why the hell ain’t he talkin’! There’s not much else I can say...
“Dammit, Cajun. C’mon. We will get ‘er back. And when we meet up with that creep, Sabretooth, we can both-”
Gambit suddenly strode forward, closing the short distance between them. He tilted his head slightly and caught Wolverine’s parted lips with his own. Logan’s eyes widened and his body tensed as his heart skipped a beat. Gambit’s warmth and spicy scent enveloped him, and he felt himself relaxing. His eyes started to close, but Gambit abruptly pulled away.
The two stared at each other for a long moment, Wolverine’s mouth hanging open, Gambit’s shoulders stiff and eyes unblinking. The wind howled and blew the curtains between them, but neither moved. It seemed they stood that way several minutes as Wolverine’s thoughts tumbled wildly over one another. Unable to decide whether he was more shocked at Gambit’s actions, his own reaction, or at his relative lack of shock altogether, he found himself incapable of turning from his companion’s unyielding gaze.
A sharp pop of static awoke the two and Xavier’s voice echoed throughout the complex. Wolverine blinked and broke the stare by turning toward the intercom.
“Attention, X-Men. A crucial meeting is being held in the War Room in ten minutes. I repeat, there is an emergency meeting being held in the War Room in ten minutes. Also, students, the school soccer game has been cancelled for tonight and will be rescheduled for next week sometime. That is all.”
Hearing the end of Xavier’s announcement, Logan sensed an escape. He began to walk toward the door, but the feel of eyes on his back stopped him. He glanced back at Gambit.
“Uh...we’d better get goin’ to that meeting, huh? I’ll...” Wolverine cleared his throat. “I’ll see ya down there.”
Wolverine left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Merde,” Gambit mumbled under his breath.
***
“I think it is apparent that we have underestimated the determination of our enemy. Regarding the encounter earlier, it seems that Sinister and his associates are proceeding with more haste than previously anticipated. However, we still do not know what he is rushing for.” Professor Xavier rubbed his chin thoughtfully and observed the five other X-Men sitting around the bare, circular table.
To the Professor’s left perched Nightcrawler, tossing his tail from hand to hand anxiously, while at his other hand Beast was studiously scrawling in a notebook, glasses resting gently on the end of his blunt nose. Wolverine was slumped in his chair, arms crossed and gaze focused on the table, while Gambit opposite him reclined stiffly with his eyes on the ceiling. Jean Grey, sitting across from Xavier, had a perfect view of the whole charade, much to her discomfort. She saw every visual exchange that Wolverine and Gambit tossed at each other. The tension was stifling.
They played a tedious game of eye tag while the Professor spoke. Wolverine looked at Gambit from under his brow. As soon as Logan’s gaze was redirected, Gambit’s eyes switched to the older man. Logan turned back just in time to see Gambit move to regarding and adjusting his gloves. And when they finally caught each other’s eyes, they both turned away so quickly Jean was sure she heard the air snap.
Jean tried with all her might to concentrate on Xavier, but the bickering mutants in her peripheral vision made it next to impossible.
Do they have any idea how childish they’re being?
“But that is not what we’re here to discuss,” Xavier announced.
Jean forced herself to pay attention.
“Our number one priority right now is getting those children back. However, looking around, it goes without saying that we do not have the manpower to do so at this point in time. There is too much at risk to start a full-blown attack with a depleted team,” Xavier said.
“Oh, now, now, Professor...” Beast mused.
“Ja, Professor, we can handle it!” Nightcrawler rasped.
Xavier shook his head.
“I don’t doubt your capabilities, Kurt. I know each and every one of you would do whatever it takes to get those children back. But let us not forget that we are dealing with innocent lives, children’s lives. We should only execute a plan of action when there is no doubt of success. I don’t believe that just five is enough. Although, I do believe that some course of action should be taken immediately.”
The mutants shifted in their chairs, the toneless creaking interrupting the anticipatory silence of the stark room. Xavier leaned forward.
“I want you five to go on a reconnaissance mission. You must scout the area of Sinister’s hideout, but do not engage in any combat. This will require the utmost stealth. We need information,” Xavier explained.
The team’s exhaustion became more noticeable when they were ordered back out into the field. They sat again in stunned, uneasy silence for a few moments, pondering both the danger and the exigency of such a mission. The only sound in the room was the steady hum of the computers lining the otherwise bare metal walls. Xavier began to stir and Jean took it upon herself to break the silence.
“When would we leave, Professor?” she inquired.
“In just a few hours. Three o’clock this morning,” Xavier replied.
Beast looked up from his notebook. “Where is this hideout located?”
Professor Xavier hesitated. “I’m still attempting to pinpoint an exact location. I received a lot of images from earlier and I’m trying to decipher them all. Nevertheless, I will discover where the lair resides. I can send the coordinates when you are all aboard the Blackbird.”
Gambit licked his lips, his face a mask of desolation. Jean felt a twinge of pain inside as she recalled his instant and genuine affection for the last child. For Mia.
It must have hit him hard...
“Our current troop handicap has left us without a leader for the moment. Hank, how would you say Scott is recovering? Would he be able to accompany us tonight?”
“Incontrovertibly not, Professor. He won’t be in any shape to fight for several days. Having said that, however, he is recovering.”
Xavier grunted. “All right, then. We will need someone to lead this mission. Volunteers?”
The X-Men looked around at one another, seeing their own fatigue mirrored in dim eyes.
Gambit coughed softly and peered into the reflections on the table.
“Ah do it.”
Logan slowly swiveled his head to face Gambit.
“Objections?” Xavier quickly glanced at the mutants. “Very well. Gambit will be taking point on this mission.”
Gambit remained frozen, eyes glued to the table, as the other X-Men stared at him.
Xavier broke the silence once again. “Are there any questions? No? All right, then. Remember, stay in the shadows and tread softly. There is a lot at stake here. If the five of you are compromised, we may lose our last hope of recovering the children unharmed. I will contact you on the Blackbird. You have your mission, X-Men. Godspeed.”
The Professor left the room, the whirring of his chair slowly fading down the corridor. Nightcrawler and Beast stood up, stretched and followed, engaged in conversation. After a moment, Wolverine slowly arose from his chair. He glanced at Jean and caught her eye. She gave him a questioning look, her eyes quickly darting in Gambit’s direction. Wolverine glanced at Gambit, lowered his head, and walked to the door.
His footsteps eventually faded and Jean Grey stood up. She walked over to Gambit and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“Gambit...what’s go-”
“You betta go git some rest, chère,” he interrupted flatly.
Jean dropped her hand to her side and sighed. Confused and angered, she turned and left the room. The automatic door sealed shut behind her, leaving the Cajun alone at his chair in the desolate War Room.
***
Wolverine found himself pacing the hallway outside his room, his conscience forbidding him to enter.
I have to say something to ‘im. I shouldna jus’ walked away like that.
But the more he considered what he needed to do, the more he wanted to simply slink into his room and pretend nothing had happened. Still, he couldn’t just let the Cajun go on thinking he had done something wrong.
Heck, I’ve done crazier shit in my life than that. But I’m not crazy enough to lose my only friend over this. He’s the only one here worth trustin’.
Wolverine stopped cold when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. He wasn’t ready yet! His breath quickened as he saw the shadowy figure of Gambit materialize on the landing; he could only hope the Cajun would say something to make this easier for him.
Wolverine waited for a greeting or some sort of acknowledgement from the younger mutant, but none came. Gambit took the two paces to his door and turned the handle. In a frantic effort to keep his chance, Wolverine cleared his throat loudly. Gambit paused and turned to him.
Wolverine started when he saw the misery in Gambit’s glowing eyes and the slump of his shoulders. This was hardly the mirthful young man he ate breakfast with every morning over tales of remarkable exploits. He more resembled the broken boy he comforted on that night when Nicholas... that night that seemed so long ago. Wolverine was overcome by the urge to embrace him as he did then, but he held back. There was no telling how the Cajun would respond this time.
With a sigh, Wolverine tried to lure Gambit into any sort of conversation. Anything to smooth the way for what he needed to say.
“So, yer gonna be the one callin’ the shots tomorrow?”
Gambit raised his chin and fixed his slow, sad eyes on the older mutant.
Goddammit.
Wolverine furiously tried to swallow his frustration and figure out what was going through the Cajun’s head. That kiss...he didn’t even know if the Acadian playboy had meant it or not.
Did I want him to mean it?
I liked it.
What does he want to hear?
I don’t want to lose him.
That I need him?
He’s all I got.
He made a decision. He’d tell the truth, no matter how embarrassing or weak it may be. Finally resolute, he found his mouth had difficulty forming the words.
“Gambit, I...”
Loud voices and laughter interrupted his confession, and it took Wolverine a moment to realize Nightcrawler and Beast were mounting the stairs. He turned his eyes back to the Cajun and felt all his courage leave him. It was hard enough to say without an audience, but he had to say something to the young mutant looking at him as though he would fall to pieces any moment.
“Good luck tomorrow, kid.”
Gambit seemed to deflate as he turned into his room, and Wolverine didn’t fail to notice the disappointment in his eyes. He gave a vicious glare to the blue intruders and stalked into his room, slamming the door.
“Shit.”
***
Wolverine sat up in his bed, still wearing the pants from his field uniform.
He stared out his window at the snowy landscape, glowing eerily blue beneath the pale moon. His alarm had gone off five minutes earlier, stirring him from a deep slumber. It was the first time he’d awoken to the buzzing in months. Normally, Cyclops knocked on the doors at some ungodly hour to ready the mutants for training. But Cyclops didn’t come around today. Today was different. Today was the day to put that training to use.
Wolverine scratched his hair, still messy from the restless night. Throughout the night, he'd found himself constantly waking to the scene in the hallway and the tension he felt as Gambit's eyes burrowed into him. After mulling over the possibilities of what could have been said, he became angry at himself.
Why didn't I say anything!
He shook his head and looked at the alarm clock. 2:46 a.m. It would be time to go soon. He yawned and stretched, standing up. He walked over to the window and stared out at the sprawling lawn, covered with a thin layer of snow.
Scoutin’ mission?
He scoffed aloud.
I’m gonna get that kid back. For Gambit. Ever since we lost her, he’s been mopin’ around everywhere, not smilin’...
A cloud passed over the moon, hiding the grey light that had filtered into the room.
It doesn’t smell good today.
He looked around his room. The still air reminded him of...
...death.
A slight breeze from the window rustled his hair a bit and he shuddered. A board creaked in the hallway. He stared at the door, half-expecting some inane order from Cyclops, and already he was searching his mind for a generic comeback. But there was nothing. Once again, the board whined. Wolverine paced to the door, opening it quickly, and peeked out into the hall. It was completely deserted, right and left. He lowered his eyebrows and went back into his room with a grunt. The breeze from the window stopped. The cloud passed and the room returned to its cool, metallic color. He slowly looked around the room again, uneasily.
Weird...
He shook off his feelings of discomfort and picked up the rest of his uniform, thrown carelessly near his closet. Slowly he put the costume on, pausing briefly in the middle to yawn and rub his eyes. Finally, he grabbed the wrinkled mask from the floor. Holding the tightly, he left his room and walked down the stairs.
***
Continue to Chapter 7, part 2