Hank settled Rogue in his office again, while med students monitored Logan’s condition. “The chelation therapy stops further poisoning in most cases, but it does not reverse any neural damage done beforehand.”
“Does that mean he could suffer brain damage?”
“If not for his mutation, then yes, absolutely; he likely already has, as evidenced by the hallucinations earlier. But the mutation’s eventual return changes everything. The fact that Logan’s body contains a massive amount of adamantium also changes the balance. The problem right now is sustaining him while the cure wears off. His kidneys are failing, so we’ll begin dialysis very soon. His heart is also weakening, and the list of other smaller problems is too much for my tired brain. I’ve had a rather challenging night.”
“Yeah, thanks to me,” Rogue’s eyes stayed on the carpeting.
“And you’d do it again in a heartbeat, to save him.”
She met his gaze steadily, and admitted, “Yeah, I would.”
Standing up from his desk, Hank stretched and yawned. “I know you’ll go back to Logan’s room and stay until he recovers, so I’ll save my breath suggesting you go sleep in your own bed for a change.”
“I’m here for the duration.”
“As I thought. It will be a few hours before the dialysis equipment arrives, so I will get some sleep while I can. Call out if you need me.
Before Rogue could reach Logan’s door, Hank was snoring on his office sofa, which groaned beneath his bulk. The med techs finished changing the bandages and checking all the tubing, leads, medications, and the respirator, then smiled softly at Rogue as they left the room.
Sliding carefully onto the bed, Rogue hesitantly touched a bare finger to Logan’s cheek, half expecting to feel the sizzle begin, but still nothing happened. He was no longer clammy-skinned from being in shock, but remained terribly pale. Smiling to herself, she wiggled against his side, avoiding tender places and leads, and rested her head beside his on the pillow.
The jerky, mechanical breathing from the respirator nearly broke her heart, but she swallowed down the emotion and spoke softly to him, “I know something... or someone... inside you can hear me. I broke all the rules for you, and I’m in this for the long haul, mister, until you decide to come out of this. The cure is temporary, Logan, you hear me? It wears off. Soon, you’re gonna start getting better and stronger, and I’m watchin’ you like a hawk until you wake up and smile at me. The sooner you make the decision to survive, the sooner we get back to our allegedly normal lives. So commit now, and save us both a lot of grief.”
Dodging the respirator’s mask and tubing, she planted a soft kiss on the side of his face, and went to sleep.
With the first dialysis treatment in progress, Rogue agreed to go to the cafeteria for real food, take a shower, change clothes, and return. Plus, there wasn’t enough room for all the techs, machinery, Hank, and her in the small room. Logan’s condition was unchanged, which seemed promising to Hank’s estimation, so she took the leisure hour with a fairly guilt-free mind.
When she returned, there was a flurry of activity around the bed and the monitors were going crazy. The techs were running back and forth at Hank’s shouted commands. More equipment was in use around Logan’s body; things she couldn’t identify - the knowledge Rogue had borrowed from Hank was slowly fading away.
Rogue stood aghast at the frenzied scene before her. Not wanting to get in the way, she peered through the door while fear dragged it’s icy fingers through her body. Hank was trying to compress Logan’s chest, but it was pointless - the unyielding adamantium on his ribs was preventing it. Logan’s face was ashen gray, the skin around his eyes dark and sunken. Rogue knew she was looking at a dead man who still drew mechanical breath.
Hank checked leads and pads stuck all over Logan’s torso, then stood stiffly and silently beside the bed for a few moments before adjusting more settings on the life support equipment. When he turned to walk away, Hank saw Rogue’s wide eyes and shocked face. Pulling her into his office, he spoke softly, “His condition is worsening. The life support is the only thing keeping him alive. We have a decision to make.”
“But I thought he was stable when I went...” Rogue bit down the words and started shaking again.
“Logan’s body is so saturated with toxins that without the mutation, he has no hope. All we can do is keep his body alive until, and if, his mutation returns. There’s no discernable brain activity.”
“What do you mean, ‘if’ his mutation returns?”
Hank folded his glasses and looked directly at her, “Rogue, this is an area of medicine that has virtually no legitimate research or studies. We barely know when and how the mutations begin within the body. But in these specific circumstances, we have no documented evidence of when a regenerating mutation may return after the cure, since the mutant cure is new, an unexplored field of medicine. We’re working blind. Logan’s mutation might return at thirty-seven days, or sooner because his body could have fought off some of it at the time of the attack. Or, due to his extreme illness, the return may be delayed, or it might not come back at all; because he is, for all intents and purposes, dead.”
Hearing the word ‘dead’ come from Hank’s mouth made something inside Rogue shut down. She’d wrangled constantly with herself over the last day, questioning her dream of Wolverine telling her to protect Logan, examining her own selfish wants, considering Hank’s signed DNR papers, the ethics of life support, and death with dignity. It all rolled around and around inside her head until there was no deciding. Every side had arguments, points, exceptions, unknowns.
Raising her eyes to meet Hank’s, Rogue choked down her emotions and stated flatly, “We will wait the thirty-seven days, and then a day or two more for safety, then consider where he stands, medically.”
Before Rogue could form another defense as Logan’s only next-of-kin contact, Hank said, “Agreed.”
She rose quietly and walked into Logan’s room, shutting the door behind her. Hank watched through the panes of glass separating them as she habitually checked over Logan’s equipment, then slipped onto the bed, hugging him as close as she could without disturbing the machines that kept him alive. Hank turned away quickly before anyone could see the tears forming in the corners of his own blue eyes.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Things look dire; it’s a dark ride, ‘nuf said. Short chapter this time.