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"How is he?"
"Listen for yourself."
A hoarse moan rose from the room beyond, barely audible through the heavy steel doors.
"Is he improving at all?"
They were talking in the hall between the medical lab and Cerebro because Jean was taking a break. Everyone else had been sent away, Cyclops and Storm taking them to town for burgers and a movie, a brief vacation declared to relieve the stress everyone was feeling. They all knew. Though he tried to fight it, the pain drove Logan to thrashing, screaming fits. Sometimes they could be heard even on the floors above.
The students would stop, wherever they were, in the hall, in class, in the dining room and stare at the floor, then at each other, holding their breath until it stopped.
Rogue cried often, and others with her.
Charles had decided that they all needed to get away for a while. He didn't expect them home until late tonight.
"He's barely keeping up." Her eyes were red-rimmed, her face drawn and tired. For the past four days she'd spent almost every waking moment at Logan's beside, trying to do everything she could to help him through his ordeal. "His body heals the cells as fast as they break down, but only just. I don't know what will happen - if the disease will run its course and he'll recover naturally or if his body will give out first."
"Uhh-NNNhhhh -AAAHHH!" The moan grew into a scream, torn from tortured lungs. Jean flinched as it hit its height and then dropped off again suddenly, cut off as if he'd stopped it by force of will.
"He's bitten through his lip eight or nine times." She whispered, hands rising and falling hopelessly. "I don't know what to do."
"Go rest." He told her firmly, not allowing his own pain to show. To have one of his own suffering like this and be unable to prevent it - "I will stay with him."
"I can't sleep. I can hear him, I can't block him out. If I try it feels like I'm abandoning him."
"I'll block for you, then. You are not abandoning him. You are leaving him in my care."
"But it feels like - "
"Jean, go." He took her nearest hand and squeezed it. "You've done all you can, and you're no good to him like this. I will stay with him, and when Scott gets home he will be pleasantly surprised to find you in bed."
"Professor!" She blushed. But he had always known the details of her life - there were things you couldn't hide from a telepath, especially if he was your teacher, your mentor.
"He hasn't said anything because he doesn't want you to feel worse, but he misses your presence deeply."
"I know. He knows there's nothing to worry about - Logan and I - "
"But he misses you." He dropped her hand and turned his chair toward the medical lab. "I do not want to see you here again until after lunch tomorrow."
"Professor..." It was too long, he knew it was too long, but he had to make her rest.
And, he admitted privately to himself, he wanted the time alone with Logan, to say his own goodbyes, in case this did not turn out well.
"Goodnight, Dr. Grey." He said softly, and she seemed to understand. She turned and walked away, even as another moan began and began the inexorable rise to scream.
When he approached the doors they slid open and the sound hit him like a shotgun blast - full-on and hard. If he had been walking he might have staggered. As it was he paused briefly before forcing himself to continue.
Logan was on the examination table, strapped down firmly with padded plastic restraints at elbow, wrist and knee. They were positioned so that he couldn't get his claws to anything they could cut except the space beneath the bed. At the moment his body was violently arched, head back, shoulders and torso lifted completely off the table, blood gathering and dripping slowly to the floor below, which had been cleaned but still bore the evidence of earlier bleeds.
This scream did not cut off, but only tapered to a moan. When his body relaxed with a thump Logan turned his head and stared at Xavier with wild eyes, the color obscured by the blood that filled them. Xavier wondered how he could see.
Blood was oozing from Logan's eyes and nose and ears, and other bodily orifices, he knew. This was the way this disease worked. It was a miracle Logan had survived this long. If he'd been a normal human he would have been dead long ago; most victims of this virus only survived a day or two before their bodies gave up, one vital system or another too badly compromised to support life, according to the computer records they had found. Cell linings spontaneously rupturing throughout his body, only to heal and rupture again and heal.....
Fortunately there was a vaccine, which everyone here had been inoculated with as soon as he was diagnosed. Protection was immediate.
Three intravenous lines ran into Logan's body, the insertion points bleeding. They were feeding him antibiotics, and fluids, nutrients to give his body the energy to keep fighting. He couldn't heal if he was starving - not well enough to battle this.
"Chuck..." He panted, letting his head fall. The pillow was on the floor, the cover spotted with blood, smeared with mucus and other things. " ..."orry..."
"Don't be." There were clean pillowcases stacked on the counter. He retrieved one, replaced it, threw the dirty one into a hamper marked 'Biohazard'. "I sent Jean to rest. Hope you don't mind my company."
He grunted.
"Good."
It seemed like the pain was easing temporarily. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting Xavier lift his head and tuck the pillow under it. When it was settled to his liking, Xavier let his hand stray and ran his fingers through the thick black hair. It was damp with sweat and heavy.
"I'm a mess." Logan opened his eyes with an effort and stared up at him. Xavier was sitting close to the table, his face only a foot away from Logan's. "Glad you made her leave. She looked like she needed ta' cry."
"Only because she's worried about you."
"I know that." He twisted restlessly, hands clenching and unclenching in the restraints.
"Is it starting again?" Xavier reached for a cloth that was soaking in a bowl of cool water, tinged pink.
"It - moves." He gasped, twisting to the right as far as he could. "Oh, God, oh, God."
To see this man; stoic, uncomplaining, powerful - reduced to this made Xavier want to cry himself. But Logan was at least coherent, which he hadn't always been during the past days. Sedating him was not an option, his healing factor worked more quickly when he was conscious. To sedate him might kill him.
"I'm here." He grabbed Logan's forearm, between the restraints, and held on tightly with both hands. "Focus on me, Logan. I'm right here."
"Unhhh..." The tormented man managed to turn his head although his body again arched up. There was the sound of something snapping - tendons? - and he shuddered and Xavier winced. "Charles..."
"I'm trying to help." He let go the arm and wheeled to the head of the table where he could position his hands properly, and tried to force his way into the chaotic mind.
If he could find the pain center perhaps he could dampen it somehow...
There, there... As fast as he traced neural pathways the pain jumped to another one and he couldn't keep up. There was too much damage being done, and he didn't dare interfere with the actual brain because he might interfere with the healing.
Logan moaned and writhed and then lapsed back to the table, panting, breath hissing with the effort to fill bleeding lungs.
"I don't think I'm gonna make it this time, Chuck." He whispered, eyes sliding closed. "Don't feel responsible, okay? It ain't yer fault."
"I know that." It was, in a way. He was the one who had sent Logan to the abandoned military compound, where this virus had been lying in wait. Genetically engineered, was apparently the last failsafe designed to protect secrets someone didn't want known. Logan had become sick almost immediately and found a way to contact the Professor, afraid to go to civilization, afraid he was contagious and would start an epidemic. He'd been right, and that refusal had probably saved thousands of innocent lives. "I just want you to get better."
"I don't think I can. What if it stays like this? What if it never gets better? I can't live like this..." The pain hit again, suddenly, and Logan swore viciously, claws popping out instinctively.
Xavier held on, his hands cradling the bearded face, his eyes staring into the rolling ones, trying to see a sign of intelligence, awareness. When it came he lowered his own head and brushed a gentle kiss on the cracked, crusted lips.
Logan's eyes went wider and he swallowed, tried to say something, but no words came from his open mouth.
Xavier smiled at him, a little sadly, then took up the cloth and began wiping Logan's face, cleaning the sweat and tears and blood that had accumulated since Jean last performed this service. Even as the spasm died Logan just started at him, silent except for his raspy effort to breathe.
He let Charles clean his face, neck and shoulders, then a spasm interrupted. Again Xavier waited until it was almost over and then kissed him tenderly before continuing his appointed task, washing chest and belly and arms.
"Interestin' bedside manner." Logan said gruffly, after moments of silence. They were both on the edge, waiting for it to get bad again.
"Some things are better shown than told." With a casual nonchalance he didn't feel, Xavier washed down sturdy legs and cleaned hairy feet. The man was a hobbit.
"This somethin' ya needed to show me now?"
"While I still had the chance, yes." He dropped the cloth back into the bowl. The water was murky now, red. Going back to the head of the table, he laid his arm above the pillow and leaned over as far as he could, his face close to Logan's. "I would not want to live with the regret of not having told you."
"That ya got the hots fer me?!" Logan sounded disbelieving and hopeful at the same time.
"That I respect and admire you, and that I could love you if I let myself."
"But you-re - and I'm - and Jean's -"
"I know all that." Tenderly he stroked the furrowed brow with gentle fingertips, wanting to sooth away the lines of pain. "And now you know."
"Ya picked a helluva time to let me in on the secret."
"Is there ever a good time for things like this?" Xavier watched his face but kept glancing at the body beneath it. The minutes were ticking by and there hadn't been another spasm. "It was something I needed to do."
"What about what I need? Did I need to know that?"
"You would have understood soon enough. Better that I tell you than that nose of yours." He tapped it with a friendly finger.
Logan snorted.
"This is surreal. Are you sure you're Xavier and not some bodysnatcher clone?"
"Quite sure." Logan released a deep sigh as the massage continued. "I'm not asking you for anything. I just wanted to tell you."
"Before I die."
"Yes. If you were going to die, but I think you are not, Logan. I venture to say that the bleeding has lessened." He had to judge by the amount dripping to the floor, but it certainly seemed like less. "It's getting better, isn't it?"
"Mebbe." The man grunted again and then, like Xavier's words had pushed a button, went into another spine-cracking arch. The restraints cut into his skin and more blood flowed, but this one wasn't as long as some of the others and he managed to bite back the scream that wanted to burst forth. "If I live we got somethin' ta talk about, Chuck."
"I pray for the opportunity."
For the rest of the night Xavier sat with Logan; washing him periodically, talking to him, petting his face and shoulders soothingly. When the others returned he telepathically told them that he had things under control and sent them to their rooms, tuning out Scott and Jean's quiet reunion in their room above. Cyclops was very happy to find his 'girl' safe and sleeping in their bed, and proved it to her in a loving fashion that made him faintly jealous.
Toward dawn it seemed that the worst was over. Logan found it possible to doze, his head tilted toward Xavier, breath coming in short gasps, occasionally waking himself when it hurt too much. As close as he could get, Charles leaned onto the table and cradled the heavy head on his arm, his free hand tenderly touching and stroking, using tactile stimulation to offset the lingering, traveling pain.
"Chuck?"
It was the first time Logan had spoken in hours. His voice sounded rusty, abused.
"Yes, Logan?" Charles did not look up, his eyes following his own hand, which was petting the hairy chest, down the center, just petting, enjoying the freedom to touch and the returned warmth of healthy skin.
"You gotta admit this is fuckin' weird."
"I wouldn't have phrased it quite like that." He found a dry chuckle to offer. He knew Logan was watching him so he stopped his hand and turned his head to look at him.
He was a pretty pathetic sight. But beautiful just because of his stubbornness, the soul that demanded his continued existence, the will that powered the rough body.
"I'm a bit confused here." Logan drawled. His hands were twisting again. It hand been hours since the last attack, the monitors all read in the green, so Xavier moved to undo the restraints. One by one they snapped free and he rubbed first one wrist, and then the other.
"Better?"
"Better." Logan sighed. Then, inexplicably, his eyes squeezed shut and his shoulders began shaking. He turned on his side, the monitors beeping their disagreement with the movement, and Xavier hurried to go around to face him.
"Logan?" What was wrong, was he still hurting?
"I'm so - so damned tired." The voice was rough and thick with emotion.
Responding to it, Xavier wrapped his arms around the shaking shoulders and pulled the man's head against his own chest. "So goddamned tired. Of not knowing, of running, of being tired..." He trailed off and a sob escaped him. Charles held him tightly and pressed his forehead to Logan's and closed his eyes, his hands stroking the broad back.
*I now, I know. I understand. You don't have to run anymore, you have a home here whenever you want it. You will always be welcome here*
There were some things that couldn't be said aloud, at least not the first time. If he pushed, if he said these things out loud, this man might not be able to accept them. But in the privacy on his mind, where there was no one to see how much he needed to hear this, he could listen.
*I want you to stay, here, with me, or not with me, but stay. Please stay. Let me take care of you*
"No, no, fuck, oh no..." Sobs tore free as if they were clawing their way out of his chest and he shuddered with each one, his hands fisting in Xavier's jacket, crushing the good silk. Tears leaked from tightly shut eyes, each one fighting its way to freedom to run down his face.
*Yes. It will be alright. Everything will be alright*
Logan made a sound, a noise from inside, like his heart was being pulled free.
"It hurts." he whispered, tears still flowing. "It all hurts."
He wasn't talking about being sick. It was his life that hurt, and this was perhaps the first time in fifteen years he'd admitted that to anyone else. Not that he'd ever pretended he liked it, but Xavier knew he'd never let anyone else see him this open, this vulnerable.
*I'll take care of you* He promised, knowing that he could only try.
The man in his arms gradually quieted, and the tears stopped, and he sniffed, and rubbed his face on the shoulder that pillowed it, then lay quietly.
"Jean will be comin' soon." He said after a bit, the silence between them comfortable to Xavier. "I dunno what to tell her."
"I would venture to suggest that depends on what you plan to tell me."
Logan tipped his head back and their faces were inches apart. His hands eased and spread on Charles' chest, resting there, smoothing the wrinkled fabric.
"I don't know what the question was." He said gruffly. He was embarrassed, probably thought he'd shown weakness.
"I asked you to stay. With me. For as long as you want to." Xavier replied, letting one hand wander up the back and tangle in the curly hairs at Logan's neck.
"I'm not sure what that means." Exhausted, but fully aware and finally at ease, Logan watched his eyes with grave concern.
"It means whatever you need it to mean."
"Some people wouldn't understand."
"The ones I care about will."
"Am I one of those?"
"You have to ask?" Charles slowed his hands, stopped, and leaned another inch closer. "I've offered you all that I have. It is, and always will be, your decision."
"Everything?" He seemed to be looking for reassurance, so Charles pressed another soft kiss to the half-parted lip. The beard was bristly, strange, but did not feel bad.
"Everything you want that is in my power to give." He replied, pulling away far enough to look into bloodshot dark eyes.
Logan just started at him for another long moment and then gripped his shoulders and pulled him close, initiating his own kiss. This one was rougher, and deeper, and there was a hint of hunger in it that felt desperate. It took a few seconds but he relaxed into it, opening his mouth and his mind, giving control over to this remarkable man.
Then Logan lifted his head, his tongue coming out to touch his upper lip, tasting, and Xavier felt a thrill he hadn't experienced in many years.
"Can I learn to fly the Blackbird?" There was laughter in the voice.
"I don't see why not." He knew it for the half-joke it was.
"Can I call Scott dickhead to his face?"
"If you must."
There was a pause, and the Logan swallowed. His eyes flickered down, and then back up again.
"Can I sleep in your bed today?" It was said softly, with the gruff inflection that Xavier knew meant Logan was uncomfortable with what he was asking.
"Of course." He kissed him once more, tasting him just for a moment, and then pushed him to lie back down. "Jean and Scott will be here in a moment."
"Oh." It was clear from that one word that Logan thought this was something they would be hiding from the others, and that he didn't like that idea.
*And since I was up all night taking care of you, I'll be sleeping there today myself* He added, turning to greet the others at the door. He enjoyed the soft sound of surprise Logan made, and looked forward to hearing him make other sounds, time and circumstances willing.