#anyway he's gonna get josh better and then go have a panic-fuelled meltdown in the danger room

[snkts]

“Okay… so. I have to be more strategic?” Josh had said one late summer afternoon, squinting down at his failed tactics paper. As it turns out, “throw a wolverine at it” isn’t the solution for all x-men problems. “I mean, what am I gonna do? Heal the robots to death? How is this not a Wolverine problem.”

He sighs and flips the paper over, face pillowed in his hand as he rereads the parameters of the mission again. This time ever so slightly more focused.

“… okay. So what if… half of the team distracts them, and then the other half takes out the repair bots. No repair, no second health bar, no exhausted X-Men. We should always take out the healer. Right?”

He’d looked up then, beaming in the way only a sixteen year old without the weight of the world on his shoulders can. Easy and carefree

It’s hard to believe how different he looks now. His eyes oh so wide and full of fear as the lesson is turned against him.

They take out the healer.

the killing blow happens quick. it always does, slow enough to see but not enough to stop. in seconds Josh’s fate is sealed, his golden skin washing pale as the mutant cure finds its mark. he’s glad it’s him, he thinks. him and not laura, or rahne, or that little girl from that distant future.

but the dying is slow.

fighting tooth and nail to combat this invader, the boy persists through the fight. and onward, collapsing against proudstar’s chest and spitting blood. he lives long enough to get home, to the infirmary, yet he is dying all the same.

And even in this the focus is on his use to them — a case study on how this this so-called cure takes hold.

it’s slow.

but there’s one figure at his side. perhaps if he were of sharper mind he’d ask himself why, why he was quarantined and dying far from home, if his friends knew, if he’s contagious or a risk and if it was even safe for Logan to be this close - but in the moment all he can think is he’s glad he’s not alone.

he’s hazy most days. unable to speak in the worst of it. his unique physiology is in a stalemate, holding fast. an iron wall meeting and immovable object.

his hazy eyes meet his teacher’s. dry lips parting in a aching question.

“h-how much longer?”

@ncrosha

It was a funny paper. Not a correct one, but it was funny. He'd gotten a good chuckle out of it. Kinda flattering, too - so he'd taken a moment to enjoy that. And then he'd called Josh in to discuss it.

"Thanks, kid." He'd grinned, sitting back in his seat. "I'm flattered. And I'm not saying I couldn't handle it," he sets the papers down and taps them with his fingers. "But I'm not always gonna be around. I might be on another mission, or dealin' with another problem. You gotta think of what you'd do without me." And then he'd sat back and listened. Watched as Josh put the pieces together, and grinned and nodded at the response.

"Now you're gettin' it." He said, folding his arms on the desk as he sat forward again. "Next thing is to think about who you're gonna send on what team. So, looking at the outline again..." And they'd talked, and worked through it, and planned, until Josh had put together a good strategy. The kid had smiled so big when he'd gotten his updated grade. He'd been so proud of himself. He'd worked so hard.

And now he was here. Lying in a bed, wasting away. And all Logan can think is 'no'.

No.

No, not Elixir. Not Josh. Not like this. He'd told them not to send the kids out. He'd told them. He'd told them to keep the kids back, they're too young, they're not combat ready, send him, he'll deal with it, but not the goddamn kids-!

Because this was going to happen. He'd known this was a possibility, and he hadn't done enough to stop it. And now Josh was dying.

No, it was worse than that. He was stuck. Trapped in bed, trapped in the room, trapped in a body that was failing him, but could never let go completely. Suffering without end. A cyclical torture.

He was just a kid.

Logan sat looking at Josh again, but there was no funny essay this time. No lesson to teach, no fixing the mistake. Just a dying young man in an infirmary. The body in the bed almost didn't look like him. The gold of his skin is washed out and pale, his eyes are glazed and unfocused, his hair is limp and dry. Barely more than a corpse. His heartbeat flutters, his lungs rattle, and his voice rasps barely over a whisper. On the cusp of eternity, but his powers, his body, his 'gift' won't let him die.

...

But Logan can help him.

There's only so much Josh's gift can fight off, apparently, and Logan can help him. Josh is in agony, endless agony, and Logan can help him. Josh can't die and Logan can help him.

He's in pain, and Logan can make it stop.

"Not much, kid." He says, standing and smoothing Josh's hair back. There's a sick feeling in his gut as he makes his decision - but it's what's best for the kid. It's what will make Josh's pain end.

He turns and strides out of the room, fists clenched to gather his resolve. He can do this. He has to.

"Get me an IV." He says to whoever's in the room. They all look at him with owlish eyes.

"What?" Someone says, and he thinks it might be Hank, but his pulse is already pounding in his ears in anticipation of the NO STOP WHAT ARE YOU DOING that adrenaline is preparing for him.

Needles piercing flesh. Drills, saws.

"My blood." Logan repeats, waving his hand in a circular motion to show he's looking for an explanation. "It gives people my factor, right? Temporarily?"

Sensors embedded deep.

"Well, yes, but-"

The lingering taste of stasis fluid on his tongue, coating his throat.

"And it adapts. And I already had that shit." He points back to the door he'd just come out of. "So you're gonna get me an IV, and we're gonna pump that kid full of it 'til he's back on his feet."

Give me the readings, Doctor-

Weapon X functioning at full capacity, sir.

"And you're gonna do it right fucking now."

Good. Begin injection process.

... If it's for the kid, he can handle it.