CHAPTER 71-THE MAN WHO WON'T DIE
The hospital smelled of antiseptic and fear. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows across the waiting room where the X-Men had made camp. They'd been there since the crash, since the doctors rushed Jean and Logan behind steel doors. Now it was night again. A full day. No answers. No comfort.
Scott hadn't sat once. He paced, back and forth, a caged predator in ruby-tinted glass. His jaw was locked, fists tight enough that his knuckles looked ready to snap. Every nurse who passed felt the heat radiating off him. He only ever stopped when a door opened - eyes snapping up, hope flashing, only to die again when it wasn't her.
Storm sat with her hands folded, lips moving in quiet prayer. Every few minutes her eyes closed and her breath caught, like she was listening for a goddess who wasn't speaking. When Scott passed too close, her voice sharpened. "Summers, sit. You burn a hole in the floor."
He ignored her. "She should've woken up by now."
"Logan too," Banshee muttered, slumped against the wall. His voice was low, stripped of its usual music. "I saw what the sun did to him. If it weren't fer' his healin', he'd be ash."
Nightcrawler's tail flicked restlessly, curling and uncurling around his chair leg. He tried for a smile. "He will live. He always does. He is too stubborn not to." But the joke cracked halfway, voice breaking into a whisper. "Still... I saw his face when they dragged him out of the water. He looked... gone."
Colossus leaned forward, elbows on knees. His massive frame made the plastic chair squeal in protest. "He is strong. But no one can take punishment forever."
The words hung heavy. For a moment, the room felt like a tomb.
Scott stopped pacing. His head turned, visor glowing faint red. "Don't talk about him. This isn't about him. Jean's the one we should be worried about."
Storm's eyes sharpened. "Do not dismiss his sacrifice, Scott. Without him, Jean might not have survived the flare at all."
Scott's mouth twisted. He didn't answer. He turned away, shoulders rigid, the silence screaming louder than words.
Hours dragged. The vending machine ran out of coffee. The night deepened. And still the doors stayed closed.
When finally a doctor stepped through, his scrubs stained and tired eyes set in shadows, the entire team surged to their feet at once.
The man blinked at the wall of bodies. "Easy. Easy. They're stable. Both of them. But-" He lifted a hand. "The woman - Jean - is still unconscious. She needs time. Her body took on stresses I've never seen before. As for the other one..." His brow furrowed. "...the Canadian? His vitals are... remarkable. Healing faster than anything I've seen. If anyone's
waking first, it'll be him."
The team exhaled, relief tangled with dread.
Scott's fists clenched again. He didn't like the sound of that.
The room was quiet, save for the steady rhythm of the heart monitor. A single lamp hummed above the bed, throwing pale light across Logan's battered form. Tubes ran into his arm, bandages wrapped his chest, but beneath it all... the wounds were gone. Skin smooth, muscle full. His body was whole again.
His eyes snapped open.
For a moment he didn't move. Just listened. The hum of electricity in the walls. The scent of antiseptic thick in his nostrils. The faintest heartbeat in the hall beyond the door Storm's steady calm, Scott's restless fury.
Then he growled low in his throat. "Still here, huh? Figures."
The door opened before he could sit up. Storm entered first, her smile small but genuine. Behind her, the rest of the team flooded in Scott, Banshee, Colossus, Nightcrawler, Thunderbird, Sunfire,Moira. Charles was wheeled in last, his expression a measured calm hiding deep relief.
Banshee whistled under his breath. "Bloody hell, lad. We thought ye were a corpse. I swear, when I saw you after the crash, ye looked like death itself."
Logan smirked, sitting up despite the IV tugging at his arm. "Been called worse."
Storm's eyes softened, but her voice carried a scolding edge. "You scared us, Wolverine. You tore yourself apart. No one should do what you did."
Nightcrawler's tail flicked nervously. "Ja... when we pulled you out, I thought you were... broken uncle."
Colossus leaned forward, earnest concern etched on his young face. "Why did you take such risk? You could have died."
Logan snorted, scratching at his jaw. "Somebody had to keep the redhead standing. Ain't like any of you could've done it."
Scott's head snapped up, visor gleaming. His voice came out tight. "Watch it, Logan."
The room tensed. Storm raised a hand, silencing the spark before it could flare. Charles wheeled closer, his gaze steady on Logan.
"You are alive, yes," Xavier said softly, "but reckless. Impulsiveness is your weakness, Logan. Do not risk the team or yourself that way again."
Logan leaned back, arms folded across his chest. "Yeah, yeah. Lesson learned, teach. Won't happen again." His smirk returned. "Til it does."
A ripple of exasperation passed through the room. Banshee shook his head. "Mad bastard. Thought ye were gone fer good."
Storm crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. "Even Jean fainted after it all. Her body could not bear the strain."
Logan's grin faded, just a fraction. His eyes sharpened. "Jean?"
"She is stable," Xavier assured him. "But still unconscious. She needs time to heal."
Logan didn't answer right away. He just stared at the floor, jaw tight, a cigar itch already tugging at his fingers.
The room went quiet. Relief at his survival was real, but the shadow of Jean's silence weighed heavier.