Work Text:
Spencer stood at the window, looking out excitedly. It was December 23rd, which meant a letter should be coming from Logan, just like every year.
It had only been four years since they met in the park, but every year the older mutant sent a Christmas card. He’d visited every few months, understanding the situation Spencer was going through and trying to keep in touch. On her better days, even Diana accepted him as part of the family.
Spencer had just turned thirteen, and he wanted to tell Logan about all that had happened- not only had he been finally been accepted into Caltech, but he was able to control his empathy a big more.
He could gleam emotions off of his mom, feel the panic starting to well in her and try to calm it with his own power. It was freeing, being able to help her past the medication and doctors visits.
He wanted to tell Logan all about it, but in the last letter he’d said that he was running with a new pack, that he’d have a new address in New York. Spencer had been waiting for a new letter with the new address, but it had been a week and none had come.
That was okay, he could wait for the yearly letter to come. Maybe he had only barely gotten settled, or the post office was being extra slow this year, but there was a letter coming today. There always was.
--
Spencer was curled up in his mom’s bed, listening to her read him A Christmas Carol, the original one by Charles Dickens, as they did every year. Most of the time, she stuck to reading her expertise of fifteenth-century literature- and Spencer usually preferred it- but the holidays melted both of their hearts a bit to accept a scrap of holiday cheer in the form of the newest holiday comedy. This year was a tale of Tim Allen somehow becoming Santa Clause, but that would wait until it was dark out and the popcorn was made.
Spencer watched the clock out of the corner of his eye, waiting for the time to come. When it hit 3:30, he tossed aside the covers, grabbed the keys, and ran to the front door, watching the mail car coming down the block. Sure as sure, the woman stopped right outside, filled the box, and left, Spencer hot on her heels to check their box.
An envelope addressed to the genius was picked out of the small pile, the rest getting haphazardly thrown onto the counter, and he opened it with haste. His mother came from her room, starting to make hot cocoa while he read it.
It was odd from the start. I was an envelope width of a piece of paper, and inside was a note folded into thirds. Logan had always sent a Christmas card he found at some gas station or supermarket that he thought Spencer might like. A blank piece of paper was a complete 180 from what he was expecting.
Furthermore, the handwriting was the neat, detailed work of somebody who took their time, instead of the chicken scratch that was Logan’s best penmanship.
It read-
Dear Mr. Spencer Reid,
I was informed that you are very special to my colleague, Logan. I am now his superior at his place of work, and regret to inform you that he has been sent away for the job and will not make it back in time to give his normal holiday greeting. He has asked me to assure you that he has not forgotten, and has instructed me to send this by the twentieth so you may receive it by the twenty-third.
My most sincere apologies about this happenstance, please rest assured that he will be in more direct contact as soon as he is available, and the return address for this will be accurate going forward.
Happy Holidays,
Professor Xavier, Xavier’s Home For Gifted Youngsters
The letter was off. It was like the feelings Spencer got off people, that said trust or don’t trust. Ever since what had happened with Gary Michaels, he trusted his gut when it said not to trust something, and something was off about this letter.
Diana set down the hot cocoa in front of her son, watching his concerned face. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not from Logan, it’s from his boss. He’s busy.”
“Well, he remembered to have somebody send something, even if he couldn’t do it himself. I’m sure he’ll come by when he’s able, he’s really good about that.”
Spencer took a sip of the beverage. “What’s bugging me is that… something isn’t right. And it’s not just the fact that he didn’t send a card. I can feel something coming off of this in waves.” Another sip. “I think Logan is in trouble.”
“Well, Spencer, there’s not much we can do to help him. This address is from New York. Even if we wanted to get there, he’s away on a job, plus the airports are all full and we can’t drive. Even if we did get there, there’s not much that a crazy lady and her teenage son can do.”
“I- I know. I just wish we could do more.”
“You have his number, right? Why don’t you give him a call?”
Spencer nodded and got up to do just that.
--
Logan was on a mission to gather intel on a mutant testing facility in Nevada. Why he had been chosen for this mission hadn’t made sense to him. Sure, Cyclops was with him, but places like this brought up too many memories he would rather keep buried.
The mission itself was easy enough- staking out the place, gathering guard schedules, bugging the place. Sneaking in had been difficult- another reason he was a bad pick for the job, it’s harder for him to go unnoticed than Jean- but they managed it. They even managed to bug their system so the computer geniuses back home would be able to get more information.
Getting out hadn’t been so easy. It was like a lobster trap, as soon as they tried to leave, all the bells and whistles started to go off.
They’d had to fight their way out. It was easy enough, with the two of them, not much of a fight between steel blades and lazers, but the last of the guards had a trick up their sleeve.
A long-distance taser, aimed at Logan, landing perfectly on his claws because of course it did. The electricity shot through his system at a bullet’s pace, leaving him on the ground and twitching.
Cyclops took him out and dragged the other man out to the car, was barely able to shove him in the backseat, and drove far enough away to a payphone in order to call Hank.
“I don’t know what to do. Even if his claws weren’t still out, I don’t know if I could get him onto the jet. He weighs a ton.”
“He shouldn’t be flying anyway. We don’t want any of the electricity remaining in his system to short circuit the jet, nor do we want him around a magnetic field if we can help it.”
A classical song started playing from Logan’s bag. Cyclopes rifled through it.
“Is that- Scheherezade?”
“It’s coming from a cell phone.”
Cyclops found it and answered, setting the volume loud enough so both he and Hank could hear.
“Hello?”
“Who are you? Where is Logan?”
“I’m a friend, he’s just… sleeping.”
“He’s a light sleeper. What happened?”
“That’s classified.”
“What’s so wrong with my dad that you can’t tell me? Is he hurt?”
“Dad?” Cyclops mumbled, he heard Hank say the same thing over the phone. “Look, kid, we’re busy right now. Your dad’s fine, he just got shocked, is all?”
“Shocked? Do you know how conductive adamantium is? A small shock from a plug outlet could keep him down for hours. If he’s already unconscious, that means he probably already has internal burns. That will heal soon enough, but what you really need to keep and eye on is his heartbeat. He heals but- I don’t want to risk what might happen if he had a heart attack.”
“He’s right,” Hank said.
“Thanks, Beast, I’ll call you back later.” Cyclops hung up the payphone.
“Is there any metal exposed?”
“Uh, yeah. Claws, there was a cut on his head but that’s healed by now.”
“What was he shocked by?”
“A taser.”
“A taser ?”
“Yes.” He could hear the boy mutter something, a female voice was heard in the background, and the phone was passed on.
“Listen, my son is freaking out. How hurt is Logan?”
“He’s unconscious, currently.”
“Where are you guys?”
“That’s classified.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I am, Ma’am.”
She sighed. “Okay, fine. Just, can you let us know when he’s up? Or have him come to Las Vegas? He hasn’t been around for a while and Spencer is starting to worry. Frankly, I am too.”
“We are about an hour out. Why don’t you tell me the address so I don’t have to drag him through a hotel, if that’s alright with you.”
“Sure. Oh, wrap those claws in something soft, it’s safer and I don’t want my furniture scratched up.”
He wrote down the address as she said it, consulted the map, and started on their way.
--
Diana hung up the phone, and turned, exhausted. She could feel a headache coming on, and her illness meant that a headache could be the start of a whole host of other issues.
Spencer was standing at the counter, medication on a napkin next to her warm cocoa. He didn’t say anything about that, and she appreciated it. He sat at the dinner table, and sipped his own drink. She took her meds, hopefully they would help the headache a bit.
“So they’re coming here?”
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
They sat in silence, eventually moving towards the couch, where The Santa Claus was just finishing up. They let the credits roll and the network eventually moved onto Home Alone.
Just as Kevin McAlister was buying, then stealing, the toothbrush, there was a knock at the door. Diana stood while her son turned off the television. On the other side of the door, a man stood in an odd ripped leather suit, wounds ranging from scratches to larger gashes. He wore a headband around his eyes, a line of red glass cutting horizontally through the center, like sunglasses.
“You’re the one I spoke to on the phone about Logan?”
Diana nodded, frowning. “Why didn’t you go to a hospital?”
The man shrugged. “Honestly? I get worse in practice.”
“You can’t be older than twenty.” He shrugged again. “Where’s Logan?”
“In the backseat. What about the neighbors?”
“They’re doing their own holiday stuff, and they’ve seen Logan before.”
The man managed to get Logan into the house, claws wrapped in what looked like t-shirts. Soon after, he asked to use the shower to clean himself up and get changed, Diana showed him where it was.
Spencer grabbed some medical supplies from the bathroom before the other guy went in, and checked on Logan. After checking his vitals, he resolved to just keep an eye on his heartbeat.
Diana went to make food for their guests, but paused when she saw how few ingredients they had. After asking what everybody wanted, she ordered some pizza.
The other man came out of the shower, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and those weird glasses, and sat next to her at the dinner table.
They talked, while Spencer tended to Logan. They made conversation, anything to keep their minds off the situation. Diana found the strange man to be kind, but it was obvious that he was made to be a leader. After nearly fifteen minutes of conversation, she realized they hadn’t traded names.
She held out her hand. “Diana.”
He took it. “Scott.”
--
Spencer grabbed a book while his mom and the other man were talking. The Strange Case of Jekyll and Hyde, something he’d been meaning to read for a while. His head rested on Logan’s shoulder where he was laying on the couch. Every five minutes, he checked the man’s heart rate and breathing.
He used his empathy to try to gleam what Logan was feeling, any sign of life beside what he could already measure from the outside. Spencer couldn’t feel much, except for a spark, and that was enough for him to leave his… to leave Logan alone.
After about half an hour, the pizza had arrived and they were eating, Spencer in front of the television for the first time in his life, wanting to keep an eye on Logan. The unmistakable sound of sheathing claws had everybody stop.
Soon after, a growl came from the man, and he opened his eyes. Spencer set down his plate and stood to help him sit up. He hovered around as Logan got his bearings, not wanting to startle him.
It became clear that he recognized his surroundings, turning to see Diana and Scott, and finally focussing on the teen in front of him. “Come ‘ere, Bubba.”
Spencer jumped into his arms, beginning to cry into his shoulder. “I’m okay, bubba. Nothin’ can keep me down.”
“I was worried you would have a heart attack.”
“I’ve survived worse than a taser.”
Spencer pulled back. “Do you know how conductive Adamantium is? It’s almost as bad as water. If they got you right on your claws like Scott says, it’s likely going to be a problem for several days, maybe weeks. Twitching, burns, nerve damage-”
“Already healed, kid. Come on, you know how I work. The most life-threatening is what gets fixed first. I can recover from pretty much anything.”
“I know, worst is first, yadda yadda.” Spencer smiled and went to make him a plate. “I’m glad you’re okay, Baba.”
Diana and Scott gave their own words of relief, and ended up sitting around the living room to watch whatever Christmas movie was on cable.
They left that night, when Beast gave Logan the all-clear to fly.
The next morning, the Reid house got a call, Diana was having one of her bad days, so Spencer picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Bubba. Merry Christmas. Sorry I couldn’t send you a card this year.”
“It’s fine. I’m just glad that you’re okay.”
“Scotty told me what you said over the phone.”
Confused for a second, Spencer realized what he was talking about. “Oh- I’m sorry about that, he just didn’t want to give any information and I wanted to know what was wrong and I thought if he thought-”
“It’s okay, ‘Pencer.”
“It is? O-okay.”
“This job I got has a lot of my time, a lot o’ travel, but I’ll try visit ya every few months, everytime I’m in Nevada, at least.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, I got accepted into CalTech.”
“I knew you could do it.”
“Only online for now. Mom’s not getting better and I don’t want my uh… status to be made public information if I can help it, and colleges usually report that stuff.”
“I’ll see if I can’t have Beast cook you up something to help with that second one, and I’ll help you with the first. You deserve the college experience.”
“Okay.”
“On a different day, though, I’ve got some people here knockin’ on my door. Enjoy your Christmas, Bubba.”
“Thanks, you too….Dad.”