Piotr shifted in the chair and glanced at the still figure next to him. He’d lost track of time since she’d been shot, he wasn’t sure if they’d been stuck here for a couple of days or a few weeks. All he knew was that Angel didn’t seem to be getting any better, despite Hank’s claims that they’d taken her off the sedatives.
Rising he paced the confines of the room, each step measured, his thoughts running wild. How could anyone see the woman before them and not want to help her? How could Jean be so cold as to be judgmental about someone she’d never met before the party here? Piotr didn’t for one moment believe it had anything to do with Scott and his infidelity, no it was something deeper, something darker.
A soft sigh from the bed and he hurried to rest a comforting hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Shh, you’re safe. I’m here and I’ll never let anyone hurt you.” He whispered in her ear. “Just rest, heal and come back to me. To us. We all need you.”
“Good morning, Piotr.” Hank’s voice had him whipping around to stare at the blue doctor.
Hank chose to ignore the hostility in the young man’s eyes; instead he moved to check the monitors and gauges for any activity during the night. Careful to keep his face a careful, cheerful mask, he read through the printouts. A bolt of shock went through him as he saw a discrepancy that shouldn’t have been on the chart.
“What?” Piotr demanded stalking toward him. “What’s wrong?”
“Were you here all night?” Hank asked quickly.
“Yeah, I think so.” Piotr frowned as he wracked his brain for the information he needed. He froze when he came to a slightly fuzzy point, something telling him that it wasn’t simply a matter of him being asleep. “I’ve got a hitch in my memories though. It’s like they don’t add up…”
Hank watched Piotr’s face darken with rage and sighed. “Relax, Piotr. There’s no point in going off on a rampage. We’ll simply figure this out. You stay with Angel and I’ll go talk to Jean. She was on duty last night.”
“I never saw her at all.” Piotr ground out. “But if she was down here and did something, you can be damn sure I’m gonna rip her heart out!”
Hank nodded and hurried out of the room. There was no point in telling Piotr to calm down, the young man was fiercely protective of this girlfriend and wouldn’t listen anyway. With the data in hand, he started for the kitchen where he’d last seen Jean Grey.
“And I’m telling you that there is no such person here.” Jean’s voice drifted from the front door and Hank adjusted his projectory to head that direction. He paused beside the stairwell and watched the figures at the door.
“Don’t give me that crap lady, I’ve been doing this for a lot of years I know when I’m being lied to. Either you let me in to see my patient or I’ll bring back my team. You don’t wanna mess with me.”
“Then by all means go bring your team back. There ain’t anyone by that name here.” Jean snarled and slammed the door in the man’s face. Turning she froze as she recognized the hulking figure watching her. “What?”
“Who was that?”
“Some ‘doctor’. Probably got his licence out of a cereal box.” Jean muttered. “Looking for someone named Angel.”
“That’s the woman we currently have downstairs recovering from her wound.” Hank gasped. “How could you turn him away? He’d have removed her from the mansion, from your precious vicinity.”
Jean shrugged, “That thing downstairs is not of any importance to me. She could die today and it wouldn’t bother me in the least.”
“Perhaps it should. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” Hank gaped at her. “Do you not understand that the people she can command are not going to take kindly to having their doctor turned away?”
“Is there something you wanted, Hank? Or was the point of you skulking around was to spy on me?”
“What’s the meaning of this?” Hank held up the papers. “Care to explain to me why her vitals would take a sharp drop at three a.m. before spiking within minutes? She’s stable now, how much of that is her mutation, and how much of that is Piotr’s care I’m not sure but the mere fact that…”
“I gave her a mild sedative.” Jean shrugged as she headed for the kitchen and a cup of coffee. “It’s not my problem if she can’t handle the drugs.”
Hank stared after Jean in shock, his uneasy feeling growing until it was real fear. Something told him that when those Angel and Piotr worked with realized what exactly was happening, Jean’s bitterness would cost the entire mansion.
Grumbling under his breath Dr. Morgan Joshua slammed the car door before stomping up the walkway. He paused for a moment to dig out the key before stepping into the warm comfort of the house only to freeze at the slow, deadly click of a hammer being cocked.
“Don’t move.”
“I’m Doc Joshua, I work for Angel.” He started, raising his hands. “I have ID.”
“Then reach really slowly and get it.”
Moving slowly, Doc dug out his wallet and flipped it open to reveal his drivers license, and the ID card Angel insisted he carry at all times. With so many to care for, he needed all the backup he could get. Holding out his hand he offered the slim leather to the girl holding the gun and waited.
He watched her read over the words and glance sharply at him. “Sorry Doc, we’re being extra careful. When I heard you pull up my first thought was…”
“No need to explain.” Doc smiled softly. “Uh can I put my hands down?”
“Sure.” Witchdoctor drawled. “Come on in, would you like some coffee.”
“Sure. Coffee would be wonderful. Is there anyone from the senior council here?”
“Just me. I’m in charge until Logan and Rogue get back, which should be any time now. Why?”
“I stopped off at that address Deke gave me. You know that fancy mansion.” Doc sighed as he sank down onto a stool and took the offered cup of coffee. “Damn bitch that answered the door told me Angel wasn’t there.”
“She’s there!” Witchdoctor gasped. “Piotr’s with her!”
“Then we need to get a hold of him. Because they won’t let me in to even look at her.”
“This isn’t right,” She muttered grabbing another cup and setting down opposite the older man. “Angel’s strong. I don’t understand why she hasn’t even woken up. I’ve talked to Piotr regularly in the past few days and she’s still sleeping. Maybe it’s her mutation keeping her under so she can heal…”
“Personally, I think it has something to do with that red-headed ...uh…person.” He tempered his words as a youngster walked by the doorway. “I’m open to suggestions. I need to get in there and see her. If I know what’s going on then I can treat her.”
“I’ll call in the available Enforcers.” Witchdoctor reached for the phone. “I hope you don’t mind a bit of muscle, because if we have to take her back…we damn sure will.”
Doc shrugged and took another sip of his coffee. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Punching in the number, she listened to the rings.
“Bulldog here.”
“It’s Witchdoctor, we’ve got a problem.”
“We’re on our way.”
Witchdoctor listened to the dial tone and shivered. Xavier might have mutants under his command, but Angel had something else. She had specialists who had no compunction for violence, and there was someone already on the inside. With a slow, steady, dark smirk she reached for her coffee. Today would prove to be very busy.
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