Hank gave Logan a thorough examination, drew blood, asked endless questions, and ran the basic tests on the spot: no common infections, no influenza, nothing remarkable. Shoving his glasses down, Hank leaned back in his office chair and regarded Logan, “It will take a day or so to get the more complicated blood panels back, but other than a little fever, you seem healthy enough. We may be looking at a virus, or possibly a bacterial infection, but without further information, I can’t give you answers yet.”
“What about hepatitis?” Logan asked.
“What leads you to think you might have hepatitis?” Hank was patently curious as he laid down the initial test results.
“I got tattooed last night, but it wouldn’t show up that fast, would it?”
“No, but it might cause problems later if they weren’t hygienic. How thorough was their sterile procedure?”
“Hell, I don’t know. I was roarin’ drunk. They seemed to know what they were doing,” Logan confessed.
“Let me see the tattoo; you might be on to something.”
Logan stood, unbuckled and opened his fly, peeling back the jeans and showing Hank the bandage.
“Come back into the examination room.”
With Logan lying on the table, Hank peeled off the bandage and was surprised at the artwork Logan had chosen to have permanently inked into his skin. A single tribal-style black rosebud swept from his hip up toward his low belly, with three elegantly-long thorns that appeared to pierce into his skin. The thorns strongly resembled his own adamantium claws in their curvature, and where each thorn tip seemed to pierce the skin, red-ink droplets of blood oozed out, trailing down into a red ribbon curling back around the stem. Inside the ribbon was lettering. Hank adjusted his bifocals and read, “A Rogue by any other name...” His eyes met Logan’s, “That is marvelous artwork. I had no idea, but I’m not surprised by the sentiment at all,” Hank’s face held a knowing smile.
“So I’m that transparent, eh?” Logan grinned.
“No, but some thing are just...” Hank waved his hand in dismissal of himself, “none of my business. Back to the medical business: the tattoo looks clean, healthy. Make sure you keep it that way. Did they give you antibiotic ointment to treat it?”
“They gave me something in a tube. Guess it’s time to change the bandage.”
“I’ll take care of it. I’d recommend you give yourself a day of rest. As soon as the test results are back, I’ll let you know.”
*
Shelly sat nervously in a chair as Storm laid out the options, “I could turn you over to the authorities. If you were human, you’d probably get a short jail term, probation, maybe some community service. But you are a mutant, and I’d make sure they knew that; plus you’re in the employ of a known mutant terrorist: the FBI and the state police know Magneto, as you are well aware. That puts you in a far riskier position,” Storm noted Shelly’s pallor - she was scared, and that was more power in Storm’s hands.
“I could also turn you over to the underground mutant’s system, make you go away somewhere we won’t have to worry about you EVER bothering us again.” Shelly swallowed hard, but remained silent. “That isn’t as bad as it sounds, Shelly. They won’t make you disappear in the colloquial sense; meaning, they won’t kill you. The system is far more humane than that,” Storm leaned against her desk and stared down at Shelly. “It has also been suggested that we give you to Logan to work out some of his issues. And as much as a part of me likes that idea, I know what would happen, and you don’t want that, trust me.”
Shelly found some courage and spoke confidently, “I know you’re not going to let anyone kill me, Storm; it’s not your style.”
“Don’t mean I won’t,” Rogue snarled as she suddenly lunged forward and grabbed Shelly’s throat. Slamming the blonde hard into her chair and holding her down, Rogue snarled, “That’s my man you helped take down, and I don’t play fair!”
Shelly’s terrified eyes scanned wildly around to the other women in the room, seeking help, but they sat quietly, waiting, watching.
Rogue hissed into Shelly’s face, “Little Miss Rogue is pissed! Payback’s a bitch, ain’t it, bitch?” Rogue hauled back one fist, and plowed it solidly into Shelly’s face. Blood poured down from Shelly’s broken nose as she gasped and squealed with the pain.
“What do you want from me?” Shelly sobbed between bloody, nasal gasps, “I was only following orders.”
Storm’s voice broke the tension, “If you’ll answer my questions, tell me what I want to know, I’ll put you ‘safely’ into the system and you’ll live to realize the mistakes you’ve made, maybe even have a chance at putting a new life together, somewhere far away.”
“And if I don’t?” Storm was surprised that Shelly still had that much fight in her.
Jubilee seemed to grab onto an idea, and pulled Storm’s desk drawer open, pulling out a pair of scissors. “If you don’t tell us what we want, I’ll start by cutting off your hair, then I’ll work down from there. That way we’ll know you won’t be shedding all over the place again.”
Dissolving into sobbing again, Shelly finally burst out, “Yes, yes, I’ll tell you what you want to know! Just please; please, don’t mess up my face any worse!”
Kitty noted Rogue’s disappointment as she backed off from Shelly, allowing Storm to conduct the questioning.
*
Rogue found Logan in his now-orderly bedroom that afternoon, and slid onto the bed to lie beside him, snuggling against his warmth.
“How’s it hangin’, Butch?”
Logan swallowed against the innocent innuendo, and hugged her tight against him. “It’s hangin’, kid, and that’s about it.”
“You feel warm - you okay?” She laid a soft hand against his cheek.
“Hank says I’m runnin’ a low-grade fever. This ‘being human’ shit is for the birds. I feel like crap.”
“Fever will do that; you got the croup, the creepin’ crud, or the epizootic?”
Logan chuckled at her southern-fried expressions, “Dunno - so far I check out fine with him, but he’s waiting for more blood tests to come back tomorrow. How you doin’?” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“I’m just fantastic, and I’ve got news that might surprise you, but you gotta promise not to blow a gasket when I tell you, ‘cause it’s already been dealt with; are you ready?”
Logan eyed her suspiciously, “I don’t like the sound of this already. Go ahead.”
“We, meaning Storm, Jubes and Kit-Kat and me; we found our spy, and we know everything that happened, who set you up, all of it,” Rogue felt Logan go tense against her, and his hands clenched to fists. “Chill - you promised.”
“Just spill it, now,” he groused, forcing his hands to relax and go back around her waist.
“It was Shelly Hanson, that new teacher. She worked for Magneto; he’s the one who set you up. Toad was the one who attacked you, and Shelly was the girl in the bar who’d been watching you. Between the info we had, and what we managed to get out of her, we know everything.”
“Where is she now?” Rogue noted the ice in Logan’s voice, and knew exactly what he was planning to do.
“She’s being transported out of the country and into the hands of the mutant system. It was the least risky way of turning her over to someone.”
“And you knew I’d kill her,” Logan started to rise from their embrace, but she pulled him back easily, which worried her. He really was ailing.
“I wouldn’t care if you took her head off, ‘cause I gave it a good try, but there were very few realistic options. I did get in a few licks, probably be sporting a few bruises on my knuckles tomorrow.”
“You really did lay into her? That’s my girl, wish I’d been there to see it,” he planted another long kiss on her lips, rolling her onto her back. The weight of his metal-laden frame nearly pressed the breath from her lungs before he rose on his forearms to give her some space. After only a moment, he rolled back and laid prone beside her. “Baby, I’m feeling kind of weird. Never thought I’d say this, but sorry: I’ve got a genuine headache.”
“Take a nap, and I’ll check on you later,” she pecked him on the cheek and slid from the bed. “I’ll wait and move my stuff in tomorrow, if you like, since you’re feeling bad,” she hoped he would insist she move in anyway, but he nodded his agreement.
“Close the curtains, will ya? Light’s buggin’ me.”
“Okay, sleep well,” Rogue slipped quietly from the darkened room.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Blood is drawn and a rose is revealed, but Logan begins slipping into darkness.