Chapter rating: PG-13
Disclaimer and story information can be found in part 1.
"Aren't we going to get our stuff?" Rogue asked when they stopped by
the cabin and Logan ran inside to bring an antipyretic pill for
"There is no time," Charles replied. "We have to get Erik to the
mansion as quickly as possible so he can get medical care."
"Shouldn't we take him to a hospital instead?"
"No, no hospital..." Erik slurred. "I don't want to..."
"No, we're taking you to Jean instead," Charles promised. "No
hospital, I promise you, Erik."
"Thank you..." Erik said relieved.
Erik had never liked hospitals, and nowadays it wasn't easy getting
medical advice in case you were a mutant. The hospitals in the USA
surely still accepted mutants, but no "ordinary doctors" were
allowed to treat them. Instead they had to send for a "mutant
specialist". Those were indeed rare, and to get a "mutant
specialist" could take hours. If you were lucky. Sometimes it took
over a day.
Are we so bad people that we don't even have the right to medical
attention anymore? Charles thought. Where is this world really going?
Logan returned with a tablet, an aspirin, which Erik swallowed down
with some water. Xavier tried to make him to drink some more, but
Erik was reluctant.
"No, it just comes out...the other way..." he said and pulled his
face away from the bottle.
"You have to drink, sweetheart," Charles tried to explain. "We'll be
inserting an IV as soon as possible, and until that you mustn't
dehydrate. Now drink."
Erik drank a few gulps, but nothing more.
"Is he still cold?" Logan asked. "In that case maybe I can help
He hurried back into the house and returned one minute later with a
pillow and a blanket.
"What a good idea, Logan," Charles said. "At least that will stop
Erik from freezing."
Logan just grunted something in reply, and wrapped Erik's trembling
body in the blanket and made sure his head rested on the pillow in
"I just don't want him to mess my seats," he added.
"Unfortunately we didn't bring any diapers..." Erik muttered.
"Too bad..." Logan muttered, but he realized that messy seats could
or rather would become something he had to deal with, so he
decided to ignore it and went to the driver's seat.
"Let's drive home," he said.
It didn't take long before Erik's abdominal cramps returned, like
the need to empty his bowels. But even *if* Logan had stopped by the
side of the road, Erik had been too weak to crawl out and relieve
himself. So he simply let it come, and soon the car smelled like
there had been a barrel with horse dung inside.
Logan swore in a muffled voice, and Rogue asked, holding her
nose, "Can we open a window?"
"No, Erik mustn't be exposed to any draughts," replied Xavier. "Just
try to endure."
"Yeah, there's only one and a half hours drive left!" Logan said
sarcastically. "Like being in a pulp mill!"
"Try to endure," Charles repeated patiently. He tried to get Erik to
drink from the bottle again, but the sick mutant didn't swallow more
than a few sips for the same reason as before; it would still come
out the other way, sooner or later.
"Very well, Erik," said Charles, stroking his friend's sweaty
forehead. "We'll insert an IV when we're home. Try to hold on."
Only to please Charles Erik drank a few more gulps from the bottle.
The water rippled in his stomach, and soon he also started to feel
"Charles..." whispered the diseased mutant.
"I have to vomit."
"Oh, good God..." the telepath sighed. "Right now?"
"Yes!" Erik said, trying to fight back the nausea that wanted to
make him throw up on Charles' feet.
"Logan, stop the car," said Charles.
"What? Now? Why?" Logan asked bemused.
"Erik has to vomit."
At least a dozen muffled curse words left Logan's mouth, but he did
what he was asked and drove to the roadside and stopped the car.
Charles tried to open the door for Erik, but the other mutant didn't
have time to lean out, but threw up on his own lap.
"Oh, gross!" groaned Logan, seeing everything in the rearview
mirror. "This was just great..."
"Drive..." Erik rattled. He had not overcome the nausea, but he had
nothing left in his stomach to throw up anymore. Instead he rested
his head on the pillow in Charles' lap, and soon felt his lover's
hand in his hair.
"I'm sorry, Charles..." he got out. "I didn't mean to..."
"Schh, it is alright," Charles assured him. "You couldn't help it."
Logan started the car again.
"How far is it to Westchester?" Charles asked worriedly.
"About 40 miles, or so," Logan replied. "It will take an hour."
But one hour was much for Erik in his current condition, and it
seemed like he kept deteriorating.
"That...fucking chicken burger..." Erik muttered. "Whatever this is,
I got it from there. I *know* it!"
"It's probable," Charles agreed.
"I will *never* eat junk food again. *Never*!"
"If the pizzeria is the source, then probably more people than you
have been infected."
Erik, literally, felt like shit. He had vomits on his lap and his
bottom and pants were sticky with diarrhea and feces. And he
smelled. Even in his current condition he could feel it. And the
worst thing he had made a mess of Logan's car. Erik was certain
that Logan would never let him forget it.
"Drink some water," Charles tried.
"No, I don't want any water!" Erik groaned and pushed the water
bottle away. "You see what happens to it after a while."
"Your body needs fluid."
"I'll be alright."
"Very well," Charles sighed, but he didn't like it.
"Logan, can you stop the car?" Rogue asked in a trembling voice when
they were about half an hour's drive from Westchester.
"What? Why?" Logan asked.
Rogue pressed her hand tightly against her stomach. "Because I have
to go out and... take a dump," she said.
"Hey... now? Can't it wait?" Logan asked. "We're not so far from the
mansion, and Mags needs..."
"No, it can't wait," Rogue said abruptly. "Please, stop the car. I
If Logan had taken a closer look at her, he would have noticed that
her face was very white. He didn't, however, but drove his car to
the roadside once more, muttering curses.
"Are you sure it isn't just menstrual pain?" he asked her.
Rogue didn't answer him. She crawled out of the car as soon as he'd
stopped, and tumbled down in a nearby ditch. Whatever she was doing
there took time, and Logan soon grew tired of waiting, and called
out through the open door, "Fuck, Marie! What are ya doing down
there? Come on, we gotta go!"
"Logan, she is ill," Charles said slowly.
It took Logan a while to realize what Charles really
meant. "Charlie... you mean...the same thing as Mags?"
Charles nodded seriously. "I'm afraid so."
"But what can it be?" Logan exclaimed, and was almost about to jump
out and see how Rogue was, and to make sure she hadn't fainted in
the drain. But that was not necessary. Rogue crawled up by herself
and dragged her body into the car, pulling the door shut. She was
even whiter than before, and her breathing was heavy.
"Marie, what did you do there?" Logan asked.
"Why do you care?" she snapped back. "Go, I'll be okay!"
"It's the same as with Mags, isn't it?"
She sighed deeply and buried her face in her hands. Her long hair
fell forth and concealed her sick countenance. "Maybe..." she said
flatly. "My stomach, it... hurts."
"Looks like Jeannie'll be busy for some time ahead," Logan said, as
for a joke, but no one laughed.
"It's easy for you to say, since you never get sick yourself," Rogue
said accusingly, as though it was Logan's fault that this had
happened. "If you won't stop sneering at us soon, I'll puke in your
lap, you just wait!"
"Drive," Charles said calmly.
"Your time will come too, Charlie," said Logan. "You just wait."
They still had about 30 miles left to the mansion, and two diseased
mutants in the car.