See part 1 for story information etc.
Just like everyone predicted, Scott felt hellish the following
morning, when Jean woke him up, ten to eight.
He would have his first math class in seventy minutes. It was
Rogue's class. But Scott was hardly in any shape to teach a bunch of
teenagers advanced mathematics, and that was very obvious, when he
wasn't even capable of getting out of bed.
- Ouuch... Scott whined more loudly when Jean shook him for the
second time without success. Scott just moaned faintly and tried to
tuck his closely cropped, brown head under the pillow when Jean
pulled back the curtains to let in some light.
Cyclops was feeling terrible. He had never felt so terrible before.
His head pounded and seemed to be on the edge of exploding and he
heard a constant buzzing in his ears.
His glasses, which he had forgotten to take off before he went to
bed, had been pressed against his nose while he'd lain sleeping on
his stomach, and it hurt. And then he felt sick. He would throw up
anytime, he felt.
Jesus, how much *had* he drunk? He couldn't remember. Nor could he
remember anything he had done last night, where they had been, or
when they had come home. And Jean...
- Oh, shit... he murmured, still with his head underneath the
pillow. Did I embarrass us last night...?
A dry, ironic laughter sounded from Jean, who had sat on the edge
of their bed and started rubbing Scott between his shoulder blades.
- Let's not talk about that right now, she then said. It is bad
enough as it is. How do you feel, my darling? Are you feeling sick?
- Whaddya think? Scott groaned inarticulately. I think I'm gonna
He spoke in thick, lisping syllables. The last sentence really
sounded more like, "Aye sthinck aye'm shonna throu shup..."
Jean didn't exactly *hear* what he said, but she understood quite
well, considering she was a telepath and could enter Scott's mind and
pick up some of his unclear, blurry thoughts. Although his thoughts
were hardly any clearer than his speech. But Jean could make sense.
- Scott, she said kindly, do you need any help to get to the
bathroom? Then tell me now, since it's better if you throw up there
than here in the bed.
Scott reply to that was simply a noise that was something between a
groan and a grunt, but it meant he needed it.
- Okay, Jean said with a sigh. Then I'd better try getting you up.
Do you think you can walk on your own, Scott?
- Hmpf...was the answer. It was but a guttural sound and she
couldn't tell whether it was a yes or no.
But considering how bad Scott looked, it was probable that he
required assistance, whatever he had meant.
Jean, who experienced a slight hangover herself, felt slightly
dizzy when she reached out for Scott and pulled him up from the bed.
God, he was heavy! She could feel beads of sweat running down her
forehead when she fought to get him up onto his feet and
simultaneously support him so he wouldn't fall as soon as she got him
Scott was not a particularly large man but right now he seemed to
weigh at least 500 lbs and she had to fight to keep him upright.
Slowly they headed for the toilet. Scott's head drooped and he was
dragging his feet after him. His hair was straggling and stuck to his
forehead, and his cheeks were red.
When they had gotten halfway, he started to make weird, swallowing
noises and put his hand to his stomach.
Jean realized she had to hurry.
She dragged him to the toilet as fast as she could, and poor Scott
stumbled after her, as fast as *he* could.
Just in time Jean lifted the toilet lid, and Scott, fighting
violently to keep himself from throwing up until it was time, sank
down to his knees in front of the toilet and his stomach finally
ridded itself of the food and liquor he had consumed yesterday,
without any thought of what consequences his intake would have.
He drank very rarely, and was not a very tolerant drunk. He knew
that, and now he wondered why he really hadn't thought of that
After letting Scott rest a while against the toilet, Jean gave him
a glass of water with an aspirin.
He accepted it from her without lifting his head, and drank. He
grimaced at the bitter taste, but at least it took away some of the
sour, disgusting taste the vomits had left in his mouth.
- Jean, what time is it? he asked hoarsely.
Jean threw a glance at her wristwatch. - Five past eight, she said.
- Shit, Scott sighed miserably. I'm supposed to teach in one hour...
- Yes, it sounds like it, Jean agreed.
- I can't do it, Scott said straight out. I can't. I can hardly
stand up and I can definitely not teach them any math! I mean, look
at me! I have the hangover of the century! I actually don't want the
students to see me like this.
- You are supposed to make a good example.
- Exactly. What will they think if they see me like this?
- Maybe you're right.
- I know I am. Please, Jeannie, can't you jump in instead? Tell
them... tell them I've got the flu, or something, Scott asked his
Jean shook her head. - I'm sorry, but I can't, she replied. I'm
having biology with another class in twenty minutes.
- Then ask Stormy... Scott said wearily.
- I can ask her, but I don't know her schedule. If she can't
either, I'll have to talk to the professor, if he can take the class
himself, in the worst case.
- Yeah, do so...
- Are you better now? Jean asked. Any?
- Not much, Scott confessed. I still have a hell of a headache
and... then my vision is blurred. But that might have something to do
with the fact that I slept with my glasses on...
- Shall I help you up now? I have to go soon. I'm having a class. I
can't stay here for long.
- Yeah, help me back to the bed... Scott murmured. If I sleep some
more maybe I'll be better later.
Jean knew he probably was right. She was a trained physician, but
she didn't know what else to do about a hangover than to let is pass.
She put her arm around Scott's waist again and pulled him up from
the floor. He was a bit more sober now and could already stand up
almost without support, but the direction was a problem.
Had she not been there to guide him, he could have gone into the
wall instead of out through the door.
Scott lay down in the bed and Jean pulled the curtains again to
stop more light from coming in, and hurt his eyes.
He leaned against his pillows heavily and tried to make the
throbbing in his head stop by willpower. It didn't succeed, though.
It would take its time.
- Never alcohol again... Scott muttered.
- No? Jean asked. Not even moderately?
- Never, Scott claimed. It doesn't matter what we celebrate. I will
never drink again.
- Okay, Jean agreed. Never. But I have to go now. My class starts.
Will you be alright now?
- Yeah, Jeannie... You can go...
- I'll check on you later, the red-haired, telekinetic mutant
promised and kissed her boyfriend before she left. Get well. I'll ask
Ororo if she can take your classes.
Jean talked to her friend Storm after leaving Cyclops to sleep, but
it came out that the white-haired "weather-witch" was as unable of
taking Scott's class as Jean was.
Storm was simply too busy.
- I'm sorry Scott feels bad, Jean, she told Jean when they spoke
hastily. But I just can't take his class right now. You see, I have
already promised myself for something else. The professor said a few
days ago that we have to buy the students new school material, and I
promised I'd go to Westchester and do it as soon as I could. That
means I have to go now. I hope it doesn't...
- No, no, Storm, not at all, Jean said with a smile. It's alright.
You go. It's not a big thing. Scott just doesn't want to show himself
in his current condition. But he can only blame himself. I'll speak
with the professor.
Jean threw a quick look at her watch again and hurried on.
Twenty past eight. Would she have time to talk to Xavier before she
had to go to class?
Well, it has to be a quick talk, she thought.
Five to nine Logan left his room to go down to the kitchen and see if
there was anything to eat.
He was dressed and ready to face the day, but Rogue was still in
their room, half-sleeping and lazing, since her fist class - a math
class taught by Cyclops - didn't begin until nine o'clock, and Rogue
was not an alert person.
Logan wasn't in a good mood. He had slept badly and the thought
about Magneto being in the house gave him no rest. He felt he really
hated the old man. And feared him, of course. Logan cursed his metal-
If I weren't a walking tin can, I would have found the old man and
thrown him out through the window! he thought irritably. But if he
hurts Rogue, then I'll do it no matter what!
Logan's first goal of the day was to get something to eat, but
before he even reached the kitchen, Jean hurried toward him and
stopped him. She seemed to be in a great hurry and looked stressed.
- Logan, she said and grabbed his arm. Wait.
- What, Jeannie? he asked and gave her a somewhat annoyed look.
- Could you do me a favour, Logan? Just a little one? I'm in a
- Go to the professor and tell him that Scott is sick. He drank too
much yesterday and has an awful hangover. He can't attend any classes
today. He's too sick.
- I can imagine! Logan said and grinned meanly. He remembered how
Cyclops had sounded when he came home. Very drunk.
- He's got a nice singing voice, Jeannie, did you know? Logan said
with a twinkling and his smile broadened.
Jean rolled her eyes but then she returned to business.
- Go to Charles and tell him that, please. I don't have time.
Storm's busy. She can't take his classes. Can you tell him that,
- Sure, Logan replied. I suppose I can. Where do I find Chuck?
- He should be in his office, Jean said. Try there first. If he
isn't there, then I guess he's in his bedroom.
- Alright, Jeannie. I'll bring him the message, Logan said.
- Thank you, Logan, Jean said gratefully and hurried on.
Logan stayed and watched behind her for a long while before he
Jeannie was nice. He couldn't deny that. If she wasn't with that
silly one-eyed clown, then...
Ah! he thought when he caught himself. Jeannie is history. She is a
good friend and a good woman, but that is all. Marie is my
girlfriend. I love her.
Professor Xavier was not in his office. Logan thought that was
strange, since it was actually Xavier's office hour.
But Logan knocked several times and didn't get any answer, and that
made him totally sure of that Charles was not in there. Usually when
you went to visit him, he called "come in!" already before you had
It was quite annoying, thought Logan.
Logan moved on. What would he do now? He couldn't just ignore his
promise to Jeannie, although his stomach cried for food by now. He
had to find Xavier.
If he isn't in his office, then he must be in his bedroom, Jean had
Okay, Logan thought. I guess you're right. I'll just go and knock
there too. Charles Xavier's room was not in the same hall as the
other X-men's, but Logan knew where to go in order to get there.
He had not visited Charles in his bedroom ever before. While he was
walking there, Logan thought of how much he wanted to avoid running
into Magneto once more. It was no impossibility, he concluded.
Magneto was a guest here now. He had the right to come and go as he
Yeah, maybe to fuck up Cerebro, or something! He has tried once
before, and then he succeeded. No, wait. That was Mystique. Magneto
surely claimed she was acting without his knowledge. Never mind. The
old man's a menace.
Logan stood outside the door to Xavier's private bedroom. He
knocked. The knockings sounded hollow and dull against the wooden
He received no reply, which was peculiar, since Logan could clearly
pick up sounds from inside the room - faint sounds, surely, but
Logan's hearing was extremely sharp and he thought he heard gasps,
giggles and peeps.
He knocked on the door again, but didn't hear any "come in" now
either, although he was sure that Charles was in the room. Logan
could hear him, but what was he doing? He wasn't ill, was he? Could
he have gotten some kind of seizure? Did he need help?
Logan got worried. He opened the door to Xavier's room without
thinking more about if he should, and found it unlocked. Then he