xp_logs | It lives. Well, sort of.

10PM. The Medlab was dark and quiet, the tomb-like silence punctuated by the occasional beep or chirp of the medical monitoring equipment keeping electronic tabs on Lorna Dane. In the lab area, behind a double bank of monitors, sat Marie-Ange Colbert. The medical displays that she is keeping half an eye on are mostly quiet - cycling in their normal patterns for a mutant in a semi-responsive vegetative state.

The subject of her monitoring, Manuel de la Rocha, seems to be asleep. From time to time, he rocked from side-to-side gently in his coma, the restraining straps keeping him from injuring himself. Inside of his mind, the white blanket of obliviousness is being bombarded by the black of worry veined through with the red of anger overwhelming a whole rainbow of feelings behind it. He fought back, trying to swallow the colors with white, but for each color that he muted, another would spring through twice as strong.

Marie-Ange had just looked down to her sketchpad when a warning *BEEP* sounded from the machine in front of her. Looking up, she saw that respiration and blood pressure were rising, past one of McCoy's prep-programmed trigger points. Heartbeat was up too, almost to the second trigger point.

Turning to the program with the pager interface, she typed in "RSP+BP LVL2, HB-LVL3", as according to Dr. McCoy’s very precise instructions, and pressed SEND. Putting her sketchpad down and closing her book, she turned to look at Manuel and wait for Hank to arrive.

A minute or so later, the monitors went *BE-YIP* to indicate that the second level of threshold had been reached, followed by Robbie the Robot's voice warning "DANGER! DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!" as the EKG meter crested past level 3 and headed for Level 4.

Rahne Sinclair, sitting in the next room over, very temporarily watching over a similar set of monitors, poked her head through the privacy curtain. "Should I go get Doctor McCoy?" she asked with a frown.

"Oui, yes, go!" said Marie. "Go!"

Without a word, Rahne spun and darted out of the Medlab to go get the doctor.

Two minutes later, Hank bounded into the lab and skidded to a stop right at the monitoring station. He glanced at the readouts, and then moved to Manuel's bedside.

Manuel moaned in Spanish and twisted against his restraints, clenching his fists around his bonds and growling nearly-incoherently. Inside of his mind, the black-and-red gave way to a charcoal gray interwoven with a bright sunny yellow. The combination was almost too much for his fragile mind to withstand, and he mustered enough strength within him to _push_ at the gray-and-yellow, to twist the feelings, to make them blend back into white.

Hank blinked and shook his head, drawing on his medical experiences to push the apathy and disinterest to one side, to be dealt with later. "Marie-Ange, would you be so kind as to silence the monitors for me?" he asked quickly while keeping his attention on the Spanish mutant.

Behind him, Marie-Ange shrugged and started flipping through her sketchbook idly. "Huh? Oh, okay, sure, I guess." she said as she silenced the alarms with a few keystrokes.

Rahne had scurried after Hank, essentially forgotten, and stopped just inside next to the doorway, anxious and a little frightened by Manuel's writhing, and curious, but trying to stay out of the way. She blinked after Hank had been at the bedside a moment and started to turn away; she didn't know why she had been so interested -- well, wait, she _did_; she was thinking of going into medicine, she was worried... only she wasn't really, and might as well go.... She blinked in confusion. She was sure she'd been much more keyed up a second ago.

Hank hissed in surprise as he studied Manuel more closely. "Oh my stars and garters..." he muttered as the Spanish mutant's eyes began to glow with a hellish red intensity. "This can't be a good thing. He's projecting."

Manuel cracked open his eyes, and the blue-furred monster standing over him slowly swam into focus. ~"GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU FUCKING BEAST! GO! LEAVE!"~ he screamed hoarsely in Spanish.

Hank blinked. His high-school Spanish was good enough to let him catch a word here and there, but the intent was fairly obvious. "All right, Manuel, please, calm down. Relax. You're safe, you're among friends here..."

Manuel stared at him, and began to thrash on the bed. ~"UNTIE ME, YOU FUCKING MANGE-RIDDEN SONOFAWHORE! LET! ME! OUT!"~

Turning to Rahne quickly, Hank said "Douglas. Now."

Rahne blinked at him and then nodded, turning to dart out the door as her sense of urgency came rushing back.

Marie-Ange dropped her sketchbook to the floor and peered at the ranting patient curiously, unsure of what to do, and still fighting the numbing disinterest still lingering in her mind.

--

Doug lay on his bed, feet propped up on the wall and head hanging over the side. Flipping idly through his various D&D books, he pondered asking Jamie if he'd be interested in finding a group to game together. Rolling over, he poked at his laptop, which lay on the bed beside him. Checking to see if he had any new email, he opened up a text program and began typing in ideas.

He was rather rudely interrupted by Rahne nearly crashing into his door. "Doug! Ye need to come -- Manuel's waking -- Dr. McCoy said right away."

Rolling off his bed, Doug fell in behind Rahne at a dead sprint towards the stairwell. Taking them two at a time, he skidded around the banister and towards the subbasement elevator. Leaning against a wall in the elevator to try and catch his breath, he asked, "Did Dr. McCoy say anything was wrong?"

"He said --" Rahne stops for a breath to think. "He dinna say much -- he did say Manuel was projecting. That and to go find ye right away. And he -- Manuel I mean -- was shouting and fighting the restraints, so aye, I'd say something's wrong." She hesitated as the elevator slowed to stop, then hastily added, "Keep in mind 'tis important. Just before he mentioned projecting, it felt... strange."

"Strange as in -- as if I dinna care anymore, about watching or what was happening, even though I still knew all the reasons if I thought about it. That's when Dr. McCoy said he was projecting, but that wasna what it looked like he was feeling...."

Doug nodded. "And Dr. McCoy needs me because he's screaming in a language other than English, I presume?" Reaching the medlab doors, Doug steeled himself and walked in.

"Spanish, I think," Rahne said, but not very loudly; he'd hear for himself almost before she could finish.

--

Manuel screamed at the big blue monster again. "~LET ME GO, YOU DISEASED GOATSPAWN! ARE YOU DEAF? LET ME GO! UNTIE ME THIS INSTANT! I WILL MELT YOUR BRAIN OUT THROUGH YOUR MOTHERFUCKING EARS IF YOU DO NOT UNTIE ME THIS INSTANT!~"

"Ahh, Dr McCoy? Would it help if I went to go get Ms Frost?" said Marie-Ange cautiously.

"That just might be a highly efficacious course of action right about now." replied Hank, not taking his eyes off the raving Manuel. "I think I can keep a lid on things down here for a short while. But do not tarry overlong."

And just as Marie-Ange was about to walk out of the Medlab, Doug and Rahne walked in.

Hearing the tail-end of the profanity-laden tirade, Doug blinked. "Oh my stars and garters, to borrow your favorite line, Dr. McCoy."

"Ah, good, Douglas. Please keep your hands inside of the car at all times. And do me a favor and translate whatever it is he's screaming about? Apparently he desires his freedom."

Rahne winced and stepped to the side again, staring at the patient as well -- what she could see of him, anyway. "That cannae be a nice way to wake up, but...." She quelled an impulse to go over and try to be soothing; it wasn't as if he was a six-year-old throwing a fit.

"Well, he's cast some very serious aspersions on your sexual preferences, as well as that of your mother, he's been threatening to melt all of our brains...” Doug swallowed. "Can he do that?" Shaking his head, he continued. "Everything else is just variations on that theme and insisting that he be released right the hell now."

"I highly doubt it." Hank said musingly. "According to Dame Frost, he's an empath. Brain-melting isn't on the menu for today, luckily for all of us. Completely irrational apathy, maybe. Brain-melting, no. Gird yourselves, boys and girls. This could get a little ... interesting."

"~WHO THE HELL ARE THEY? LET ME GO, YOU FUCKING FUCK! RELEASE ME, OR I WILL MAKE YOU BEG FOR A CLEAN DEATH! IF YOU EVER WANT TO FEEL ANYTHING, EVER, FOR ANYTHING, YOU WILL UNTIE MY FUCKING BONDS, YOU ASSHOLES!~" Manuel yelled, before a wracking coughing fit ripped through his emaciated body.

Shaking himself again, Doug moved closer to the bed, and whispered soothingly to Manuel in Spanish. ~Calm, Manuel. Calm. Nobody is going to hurt you. The bonds are to make sure you don't hurt yourself. Please try to calm yourself.~

Hank stepped back a few paces so that he could glance at the medical monitors and let Doug talk to the boy. "Oh dear. He's apparently really quite worked up, and ... hello now! He's fully conscious, although clearly non compos mentis."

"Is there anything I can do?" If Dr. McCoy had time to announce that, Rahne reasoned, a quick question shouldn't be out of line.

Doug chuckled dryly. "Joy." Eyes widening, an idea occurred to him. "If his powers are overloading and he can't stop projecting, what about Miles? Not that'd necessarily think it's a good idea to subject the poor kid to that stream of invective. I'm just kinda grasping at straws here, Dr. McCoy."

Manuel's gaze stared daggers through Hank's blue hide. "~Not thinking with my head, my left testicle!~" he whispered harshly in Latin.

"Miles is not an option here, unfortunately. But since our young Spanish patient apparently speaks Latin, perhaps we can communicate more meaningfully in that tongue..." said Hank. "Then again, Douglas, you're doing a wonderful job. Tell him that he was restrained for his own protection, he's been in a coma for about three weeks."

Doug frowned in concentration. Switching mental gears, he tried again to engage Manuel in conversation. "~Manuel? My name is Doug. Doctor McCoy is really a very good doctor, and he's trying his best to make you comfortable, you were restrained for your own protection, as you've been in a coma for the better part of a month, and were somewhat violently ill a few times. It is good that you have woken up.~"

Just then, Marie-Ange walked back through the door. "Dr McCoy? Ms Frost left a note on her office door. I left her an email and a voicemail."

Rahne drifted a little bit closer to the head of the bed; she could only follow a little, half from her lessons in Latin with Kurt and half from guessing that Doug would say what Dr. McCoy had told him to. All _she_ could think to say was along the lines of "It is well," but Doug was probably doing a much better (and more articulate) job of that.

Doug filed Marie-Ange's presence away in the back of his mind as he continued to try and get a response from Manuel. "~Manuel? Please can you answer me?~"

~Where am I?~ Manuel asked in Spanish as he finally took the time to look around. "~Is it safe? Who are you? I'm terribly thirsty. I want water.~"

_That_ much Spanish Rahne understood, and was halfway to the sink before anyone more involved in the conversation had a chance to move.

Smiling at Manuel, Doug answered. "~In order, you're at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters in New York in America, yes, it is safe, I am Doug Ramsey, and...~"

She snapped the lid onto the sippy-cup, wondered fleetingly what Manuel was going to think of the Cookie Monster on the side if he noticed, and brought it over to Doug.

"~... Here is some water.~" said Doug, holding the cup so that he could sip from it.

"~I can't drink it without my hands. Untie me? Wait. North America? The _FUCK_?~" Manuel said in Spanish.

Doug looked quizzically at Dr. McCoy, making a questioning gesture toward the restraints. Replying to Manuel, he said "~Yes. North America. You were brought back with a member of our faculty who had been abducted.~"

"All rightie then. Douglas, tell Manuel that we can release him if he promises not to make any sudden moves, or do anything silly like try to leave. He's still terribly weak, and needs more medical attention." said Hank, moving to the other side of Manuel from Doug.

Doug nodded. "~Manuel? Doctor McCoy says that we can take these off as long as you agree that you will stay here for the time being. You're still relatively weak, and Doctor McCoy will take good care of you.~"

With a tired nod, Manuel relaxed from his deathgrip on the restraints. "~Thank you.~" he rasped.

--

Current Mood: Not in a coma! Yaaay!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

x-dazzler.livejournal.com

...

I just realized. Miles understands Spanish.

*DIES*

Manny better watch himself around the kid, or accusations of being a potty mouth will be loudly and clearly put forth. ;)

From:

x-empath.livejournal.com

Ummm ...

I really don't think Manuel _cares_ too much. Although he's got a Thing about kids, so it's extremely doubtful he'd use a Bad Word around Miles.

Alison, on the other hand ... ;)

Manny