Loading ...
Sorry, an error occurred while loading the content.

FIC: The Weapon 6/12

Expand Messages
  • rimmette@earthlink.net
    Disclaimer, etc. in part one. ***** Jean wracked her brain trying to think of a way to remove the electrical micro-generator attached to Logan s skeleton.
    Message 1 of 1 , May 1, 2001
      Disclaimer, etc. in part one.


      Jean wracked her brain trying to think of a way to remove the
      electrical micro-generator attached to Logan's skeleton. Lorna
      Dane? She could control metals, but she was barely a teenager, and
      she wasn't anywhere close to having the delicate control necessary
      for such a procedure. She'd probably pull Logan's spine out as well
      as the small device.

      Could she telekinetically remove it? No, she'd probably have the
      same luck as Lorna. She couldn't even destroy the inner workings
      telekinetically because she couldn't remove the outer adamantium
      covering, and she could only mentally control objects if she could
      see them.

      So, no destroying it from the inside out and no pulling it off. What
      about cutting it off? No, if the laser hadn't been able to cut
      through the adamantium, nothing could. Even Logan's own claws...
      wait! A memory flashed through her mind.

      On the Statue of Liberty, when they'd all been trapped, she'd heard
      Logan yell and then the distinctive sound of metal on metal. He'd
      released his claws into his chest to get free and rescue Rogue.
      There's no way he could've avoiding hitting at least one rib or
      shoulderblade, but he'd had six entry wounds and six exit wounds when
      she'd treated him later on. The claws must've cut through his
      adamantium-lined bones. That's it! She had a possible solution.
      Now all she had to do was figure out how to pop Logan's claws.

      Pulling his right arm around from his side, she manipulated the
      muscles in his forearm until she heard a distinctive *SNIKT*.

      "Jean?!" Scott called from Rogue's bedside, his voice filled with

      She'd almost forgotten he was there. "It's ok, Scott. He's
      unconscious... How's Rogue doing?"

      "I... I don't know. Her heart monitor's beeping and none of the
      alarms have gone off, so I guess ok so far."

      "That's good," Jean said, trying to be reassuring. "Keep bagging
      her. As soon as Logan's stabilized, I'll go back to treating her."

      Scott nodded and turned his attention back to the still girl before
      him. He wasn't a doctor, but he was doing the best he could.

      'Damn it, Charles," she cursed silently. 'How many times have I told
      you we needed another doctor! Even a nurse would make this fiasco
      easier. How am I supposed to treat two critical patients at the same
      time by myself?'

      She shook off that line of thought and turned her attention back to
      Logan's right arm, clamped in her hands with three, nine-inch, deadly
      claws shining in the medical lights. She knew he had finer,
      individual control over them, but after her clumsy attempts, she was
      glad she could get any of them out at all.

      She bent Logan's arm awkwardly behind his back, bringing the claws
      around to his exposed spine. She kept one hand clenched around the
      muscles of his arm while the other gripped his hand to have more
      control of the blades.

      'Take your time,' she warned herself. If she wasn't careful, she
      could very easily cut through his spine as well as the device,
      killing him instantly.

      Ororo was holding on to the generator itself now that the skin and
      muscle had been removed. She was drawing the charge directly out of
      the top making the fused part safe to cut. However, her fingers were
      dangerously close to where the blade would strike.

      "'Ro, I'm cutting now. Stay very still," Jean warned.

      "Hurry," Ororo gasped, barely audible.

      It all happened within seconds. Jean sliced through the tiny power
      generator, and Ororo staggered backward, setting the device in the
      plastic bowl that had been waiting for it before collapsing to the

      The silence that followed was nearly as deafening as the thunder that
      had preceded it. Now that Ororo was no longer drawing off energy, it
      wasn't necessary to keep releasing it into the storm above the
      mansion. The lightening and thunder that had awoken every resident
      and shaken the mansion to its foundation quickly dissipated, leaving
      quiet in its wake.

      Jean scampered to her friend's side as Scott looked on helplessly,
      unable to leave Rogue unattended.

      "'Ro?" he asked in a whisper, as if afraid of the answer Jean would

      After a quick examination, Jean declared her exhausted, but otherwise
      ok. She quickly moved Ororo to another medical bed to rest before
      she returned to Logan's side to finally assess the full extent of his

      The surgical incision on his spine needed to be sewn together, but
      the lower levels of muscle were drier than living flesh should be and
      wouldn't pull back together to be stitched. The flesh was burned and
      almost cooked in parts. She had to be satisfied with stitching
      together the healthier outer muscle and skin.

      She felt the hope that had filled her on the reestablishment of a
      pulse fleeing. If this was the type of damage throughout Logan's
      body, there was no way he would recover. Doctors treated burns by
      removing the dead skin and replacing it with grafts from other parts
      of the body. Logan's injuries were internal, not external. If
      muscle tissue and tendons had died, there was no way she could remove
      them. Unless his healing factor was capable of disposing of and
      replacing the dead flesh, he would get gangrene and die. He would
      die even sooner from poor circulation if too many of his major
      arteries and veins had been burned away.

      Even if he did manage to survive, his skull was lined with metal.
      Had his brain been permanently damaged by the extended exposure to
      high voltage? She wouldn't know until he woke up... if he woke up.

      Turning him around on his back, she discovered further evidence of
      massive internal injuries. The oxygen mask she'd quickly pulled
      around his head was streaked on the inside with blood. She'd thought
      his breathing sounded wet, and here was further evidence. His lungs
      must have been damaged along with his heart.

      The bleeding wasn't limited to his mouth and nose. His ears and eyes
      were bleeding as well. She pulled the eyelids open for a second to
      see the hazel irises floating in a sea of red instead of the natural
      white. Not only were they totally bloodshot, but also the tear ducts
      were weeping blood. His ears had been dripping slow trails of red
      down his cheeks while he'd lain on his stomach. Now on his back, the
      trails disappeared into his hair.

      She barely knew Logan, but had felt compelled to save him. He'd been
      at the mansion less a week before he'd left again, searching for his
      past. The professor suspected that he had found it, and been turned
      into a killing machine as a result. But from what she'd read in his
      mind those two years ago, she knew him to be a noble and caring man
      underneath. Rogue had missed him terribly, and she didn't trust
      people easily. Jean hoped for Rogue's sake as much as his, that he
      would recover, despite all the evidence to the contrary.

      She quickly established a central line, open feed, to try and
      replenish the blood, fluids, and electrolytes his body had lost
      during the trauma. She then gently intubated him and hooked him up
      to a respirator, giving his injured lungs a chance to rest somewhat.
      She couldn't do anything more for him, so she turned her attention
      back to Rogue.

      "Scott, stop bagging for a second," she commanded, listening for
      breath sounds with the stethoscope... There! "She's trying to
      breath on her own," Jean said, a genuine smile lighting her face for
      the first time since this all had started.

      "Is that a good thing?" Scott asked, unsure.

      "It's a very good thing; she's trying to come back. Her breaths are
      too shallow, so I'm still going to hook her to a respirator, but I'll
      adjust it to react when she initiates a breath instead of forcing a
      steady rhythm. If she improves and is able to keep her blood oxygen
      level up, I should be able to extubate her in a few days."


      Every inch of her body ached, like she'd gone ten rounds with the
      heavy weight champion of the world. There was something in her
      mouth, and she tried to lift her arm to inspect it, but the limb felt
      like it was filled with lead and she couldn't move it. She tried
      opening her eyes instead, but the lids were just as heavy as her
      arm. What had happened to her? Why did she feel this way? Where
      was she? The curiosity overpowered her exhaustion, and after what
      seemed like minutes of trying, she forced her eyes halfway open.

      Metal. She was lying in a room covered ceiling, walls, and she
      guessed floor, in metal. A blurry figure moved into her line of

      "Rogue? You're awake!" the feminine voice said in barely contained
      excitement. "I was just about to extubate you, but this will make it
      easier. I'm going to count to three. When I say two, I want you to
      take a deep breath. On three, I want you to blow it out like you'd
      blow out birthday candles. Ok?"

      'Birthday candles?' she wondered. 'Yeah, sure, ok,' she thought,
      nodding at the woman above her.

      "One... two... three!"

      She blew out and felt the plastic tube being yanked through her
      throat and out her mouth. She couldn't resist the coughing fit that
      seized her, as she tried to catch her breath. She was grateful when
      a mask was placed over her mouth and nose, blowing cool oxygen down
      her sore throat.

      Finally, when she had caught her breath, she asked the question that
      had been puzzling her since she'd awoken, "Who are you?"


      See part seven.
    Your message has been successfully submitted and would be delivered to recipients shortly.