er, part the second?
so here's some more of that highlander/x2 thing.
They have to sedate Lyman three times on the trip back to the school. Lyman apparently metabolizes drugs nearly twice as fast as Logan does, and every time he wakes up, he struggles violently and effectively to get free.
The Professor greets them at the door to the main part of the mansion, and directs them to the infirmary. It makes sense; Lyman did just spend the better part of the day dead -- but they have to sedate him again before Storm can cut the bloody BDUs off of him and replace them with a sheet.
Lyman's body is as well-muscled as is to be expected from a professional soldier. His arms and shoulders are particularly defined, and his hands are heavily callused. Storm draws blood, and then pauses, staring at Lyman's arm.
"What is it?" Logan asks. He and Cyclops are there in case Lyman gets violent; the Professor is there for reasons of his own that no one has asked about. Logan suspects curiosity.
"He heals even faster than you do," Storm says, with a speculative glance from Logan to Lyman and back again. "And, like you, he might very well be older than he appears. Both hands are heavily callused, but he has no scars anywhere -- unusual for a soldier -- except for the one on the back of his neck, and these." She lifts one of his shoulders; it takes a long second, but finally Logan notices the pale, even white lines along Lyman's back.
"Whip marks," he says, surprised by the hot swell of anger the realization generates. "Old ones. Still, if he heals like I do, there shouldn't be any scars at all."
"No, there shouldn't," Storm says, frowning slightly. She moves over to the table to perform her tests, while Logan stares down at Lyman. It seems clear enough that the man wasn't with Stryker by choice; the mark on his neck is proof of that. He can't help wondering if Lyman's story might be similar to his own, might help him answer some of the questions that wake him up at night, sweating. As he takes a step closer, he notices the Professor looking speculatively between the two of them, and deliberately starts running over a list of every kind of liquor he can think of. Alphabetically. He's getting much better at dealing with telepaths.
"This can't be right," Storm says.
"What?" Logan asks. The Professor is already frowning.
"He doesn't have the gene," Storm says.
"Then your test was wrong," Logan says flatly. "He came back from the dead, remember?"
"I saw it too," she snaps. "Nevertheless, the test was performed properly. The Sergeant is not a mutant."
As she pronounces the last word, Lyman bolts again. It catches Logan off guard -- he'd thought the man still unconscious -- and he's unprepared for Lyman's sudden explosion of movement, off the table and towards the door without the slightest regard for either his nakedness or the other people in the room.
"Stop!" the Professor shouts, backing it up with some sort of mental command; Lyman pauses mid-flight, but only momentarily; he shakes it off in less than a second and is moving again, without sparing a glance backward.
It is only this pause that allows Logan to reach him before he reaches the door, and he brings Lyman down with a flying tackle that earns him an elbow to the throat for his troubles. Fortunately, he outweighs Lyman by a significant amount; enough to wrestle him flat and put a fist against his chest.
"Hold still," he grits, "or I'll skewer you to the floor and we'll have this discussion once you've healed."
"Logan," the Professor says reprovingly. "Sergeant, calm down. No one here wishes to harm you."
Lyman goes limp beneath Logan's for a second; then he tenses again, and glares over Logan's shoulder with hate-filled green eyes.
"Stay the fuck out of my head," he snarls. Logan, looking back over his own shoulder, sees the Professor blink, looking startled.
"I apologize," he says gravely. Lyman stares at him for a long moment, then nods.
"You can get off of me now," he says, switching his gaze to Logan, who is suddenly aware for the first time that Lyman is naked beneath him. He rolls off in a hurry, and doesn't look in the Professor's direction. Lyman gets to his feet with an ease that proves he heals faster than Logan does, and walks calmly his way to the table, wrapping the sheet around himself without the slightest hint of embarrassment.
"Sergeant --" the Professor begins, but Lyman cuts him off.
"My name's Adam," he says, closing his eyes. "Adam Pierson." When he opens them again, the last traces of the competent, dangerous man of a few moments ago have vanished beneath the frightened kid Logan saw at the lake when Pierson revived. "I'm -- I was a professor at the University of Seacouver."
Which begs the question again as to how old Pierson really is. Older than he looks, certainly, at least at the moment.
"What were you doing with Stryker?" Logan asks, ignoring the Professor's irritated glance. Pierson rubs at the back of his neck. It looks like an unconscious gesture.
"He kidnapped me. He found out what I can do, and..." He trails off, spreading his hands.
"And what is that, exactly," the Professor asks. "You're not a mutant." He's giving Pierson that look he has, the one that makes it feel like he's reading the back of your skull. Pierson looks away, rubbing the back of his neck again.
"I...heal," he says eventually. "From pretty much anything. I don't really know how I do it. I'm a history teacher, not a scientist."
"Ah," the Professor says. "Logan, Storm, would you excuse us, please?"
***
this could still really use a title. oh well.