He stood there, torn between returning to Marie’s trail and waiting for Summers to return. Heat from the blast and following fire had already lowered to almost bearable level; he could actually feel the cooling wind swooping in to soothe his burning skin.
He was about to go after Marie when the noise of the jet engines alerted him of the approaching aircraft. He could see the sleek, black jet in the distance, closing in rapidly. Instinctively his hand rose to reach the radio, his fingers closing over the slowly cooling black lump that had now fused on the still tender flesh of his shoulder. He tore it off annoyed, wound it left bled sluggishly but he knew it would knit shut soon enough.
“She’s gone! We better find her before somebody else does!” He croaked as soon as the jet had landed and the loading ramp fell open.
“What do you mean, gone?” Jean asked, confused look crossing her face.
“Gone as in I have no fucking clue of where Marie is, and I’m not as sure as hell going to leave her out there! Tell Scott to circle the perimeter, the radar should pick her up no matter where she is!” He growled, clearing the ramp with swift strides, his eyes not truly registering the young woman sitting on one of the seats reserved to passengers. He walked straight past her in his haste to alert Summers of a lost member of their crew.
“Logan!” The girl called after him.
“Not now, I have... Shit!” He twirled around.
It was Marie. Sitting right there in front of him, unharmed for the most part, only small reddened patch of skin adorning her left cheek and her long hair slightly singed, still smelling of burnt gasoline and hair.
He couldn’t get to her fast enough, he nearly stumbled over his own feet, then she was there in his arms, her heart beating reassuringly and her lips curling to a radiant smile. There were tears in her eyes as she buried her face against his chest.
“I thought you were gone! When it was over I... I came back here and saw... I saw all those corpses, and you weren’t there and I thought...” She kept babbling incoherently, running her hands over his still healing flesh and skin over and over, seeking confirmation that what she saw was truly there. He merely held her, trying still to comprehend that all the time he had been running after her, worried over his skull, she had in fact been with Scott and Jean, looking for him.
“I wanted to call you, but my radio broke, and I couldn’t shout, my throat hurt, so I tried to get back here but I had to go around the fire and I got lost, but Scott and jean found me and...”
He tuned out her voice and buried his face to the side of her neck, suddenly embarrassed. Hadn’t he been so wrapped up in to the situation and his own role in it he probably would have realized that a girl like Marie wouldn’t just roll over, play dead and wait for her knight in shining armour to ride in to rescue her.
“I’m... I’m sorry, kid. I don’t know what I was thinking,” he whispered, his lips grazing the delicate skin of her throat. He wasn’t ready to let go of her, not quite yet.
“Sorry? For what?” She asked, trying to pull away from his embrace to see his face.
“I actually thought that you’d run like a headless chicken. I should know you’d do better than that,” he mumbled, grinning sheepishly and releasing her.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, Logan. It’s... It’s good to know that you actually care for me,” she whispered.
Jean had witnessed their exchange. Now she cleared her throat to remind them that they weren’t alone.
“I am sorry, too, but I need to check you up, Logan,” she said.
“For what? I heal,” he said.
“And if your skin heals over all that burnt mess on your back you’re going to be in serious trouble. I need to scrape off all that plastic, kevlar and leather before they become a part of you,” Jean said sternly and took his hand, leading him to a gurney at the back of the jet.
He heard Scott calling Marie as he laid face down on to the gurney. Slight clinking of surgical steel as Jean prepared her equipment. Then silence and distant chatter as Scott spoke with Marie.
“Well, doc... Aren’t you going to get to work?” He asked, turning his head until he could see Jean who was standing at the side of the gurney.
“There’s nothing wrong with your back, Logan. It’ll heal on its own. I needed to speak with you alone,” the woman whispered. His eyebrow rose questioningly.
“Since when have we started keeping secrets?” He asked. Jean looked none too please over the situation. He could smell how uncomfortable she was.
“Since this morning. Scott contacted Xavier to report our progress.”
“And?” There was nothing alarming yet. It was a common occurrence, even mandatory to keep the professor briefed and to stay in touch with the home base.
“First contaminated test results from mutant blood have emerged. First ones after the virus last mutated,” Jean said, her voice faltering. Bout of nausea gripped Logan’s innards. Too slow. They had been too slow after all.
“Hank counted 100% mortality rate. As... As far as we know, it’s not airborne yet, but it probably is only a matter of weeks.”
“Did Xavier have further instructions?” Logan asked. Jean shook her head, her eyes turning towards the cockpit where Marie was laughing at something that Scott had said.
“Only one. He told us not to come home and stay clear of the infected individuals.”
“Fuck this. For the last five weeks we have been practically bathing in their blood and shit. It’s probably safe to assume that there’s no harm done for me, but what about you, guys?” Logan asked. Again Jean refused to look him in the eyes, keeping her gaze fixed firmly to the back of Scott’s head.
“I tested us all...” She started and swallowed.
“And?” Logan urged her to continue.
“I almost hoped for a positive result. Would have made things easier...” Jean said and paused again, then forced herself to look at him.
“As of now we’re all healthy,” she finished.
“And that’s somehow a bad thing?” Logan asked confused.
“At some point we have to land for fuel, food and water. We need to test each and every item before we can bring them on board. We have to stay wary of the possible attacks. We have to prepare ourselves for the possibility that one of us gets sick. We can only stay up in the air and hope for the best.”
“When you put it that way... We’re screwed, right?”
“You could say so. I didn’t... I didn’t know how to tell this to Marie. She’s... She has been waiting for our return to home, and...” Jean began to stutter, trying her best not to cry, not to surrender under the fear and despair. Logan reached her hand and grasped it with his own, hoping against hope that it was some sort of mistake, a mix-up in Hank’s lab. Except that Hank did no mistakes. Blue and furry doctor checked, double-checked and triple-checked everything before releasing any kind of information to anybody.
They were screwed.
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