I wake up with a jolt, my hand flying to my face before I'm even fully conscious. My fingers trace the outline of my jaw, expecting to find the mangled ruins of flesh and bone, but everything is intact. Smooth skin, solid jawbone, not even a hint of scarring where half my face should be missing.
I blink rapidly, disoriented by the sterile white ceiling above me. The antiseptic smell hits my nostrils next, that unmistakable clinical scent that screams "medical facility." But the weirdest part? I feel absolutely zero pain. Not even the dull throb of a healing wound or the ghost sensation of missing flesh. Nothing.
"Ah, you're finally awake," a cultured female voice says from somewhere to my right.
I turn my head to find the source and nearly do a double-take. Standing beside my bed is a woman covered in dense indigo-blue fur from head to toe. She has powerful build that makes her look like she could bench press a small car without breaking a sweat. Her eyes are golden, nearly glowing against her blue face, and she's wearing a form-fitting yellow jumpsuit.
"Hi?" I manage, my voice coming out steadier than I expected for someone who just had their face blown off.
Looking down, I realize I'm wearing one of those flimsy hospital gowns that never quite close properly in the back. Great. Nothing says "vulnerable" like having your ass hanging out.
"My name is Dr. Harriet McCoy," she says, extending a massive blue-furred hand toward me.
I reach out and shake her hand, noting how carefully she controls her strength. "Jack Crackwell," I reply automatically, then feel stupid for introducing myself to someone who obviously already knows who I am.
"How are you feeling?" she asks, picking up a tablet and tapping something into it. Her movements are precise, deliberate, like she's constantly aware of her own strength.
"Fine, actually." I run my tongue over my teeth, finding them all present and accounted for. "Which is weird, because the last thing I remember is..."
The memory hits me like a truck, Jubilee beneath me, her eyes wide with horror, my jaw hanging by a thread, blood everywhere. My stomach lurches.
"Jubilee," I gasp. "Is she okay?"
Dr. McCoy's golden eyes flicker with something, amusement?, before she schools her expression back to professional concern. "Ms. Lee is perfectly fine, if somewhat distressed about the incident." She adjusts her glasses with a careful claw. "She's been quite persistent about visiting you, actually. I've had to physically remove her from the medical bay three times."
"How long was I out?" I ask, pushing myself up to sit a little straighter. The hospital gown shifts awkwardly around me, and I tug at it self-consciously.
Dr. McCoy glances at her tablet. "Approximately ninety minutes, give or take ten." Her massive blue fingers tap the screen with surprising delicacy. "Not terribly long, all things considered."
"Oh." That's surprisingly short for having half my face blown off. I touch my jaw again, still marveling at how completely normal it feels.
"The rest of your jaw actually fell off completely once we got you down here," Dr. McCoy says matter-of-factly. She takes out a stopwatch from her pocket. "But it grew back in exactly twenty-two minutes and forty-two seconds." She clicks the watch with a satisfied nod. "Quite impressive for bone regeneration. Most healing factors struggle with osseous tissue."
I nod, trying to process the casual way she's describing parts of my face falling off and regrowing. "I think I was in shock when it happened."
"Then all's well that ends well," Dr. McCoy says cheerfully, setting down her tablet. "Your healing factor is proving quite remarkable, Mr. Crackwell. We should run some tests when you're feeling up to it."
"Can I go back to my room?" I ask, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed. The last thing I want right now is to be poked and prodded like a science experiment.
"Of course," she says, stepping back to give me space. "We put some clothes for you in that drawer. I'll give you some privacy to change."
Once dressed, I make my way out of the medical bay, still touching my jaw every few seconds like I'm expecting it to suddenly detach again. As the door slides open, I'm greeted by the sound of unrestrained laughter.
Morgan is practically doubled over, tears streaming down her face as she howls with laughter. Beside her stands Jubilee, fully dressed in her yellow coat, looking like she wants the floor to open up and swallow her whole.
"It's not fucking funny, Morgan!" Jubilee snaps, her cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment.
Then she spots me. Her eyes go wide, mouth dropping open in shock. For a second, she looks like she might bolt in the opposite direction.
"Jack! How are you feeling?" Her voice cracks slightly on my name.
"Honestly, Jubilee, since I passed out so fast, it's like it didn't even happen," I say, offering her what I hope is a reassuring smile. "I wouldn't beat yourself up over this at all."
Jubilee's shoulders slump as she steps closer. "I almost blew your head off," she says, voice barely above a whisper.
"I get it," I reply, shrugging one shoulder. "But it's not like you did it on purpose. And besides, we had a pretty good time before the... explosion."
Morgan's laughter intensifies, echoing through the hallway as she clutches her sides. "Imagine if he wasn't a healer!" she wheezes, tears streaming down her face.
Jubilee shoots her a death glare that could melt steel, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The air around her fingers shimmers with suppressed energy.
Then she turns back to me, her expression softening into something vulnerable and raw. "That was your first time," she says quietly, the fight draining out of her. "I'm so sorry I fucked it up."
"Hey. I had fun. Plus, now we have a pretty amazing story." I tap my perfectly intact jaw. "How many guys can say they literally lost their face during sex and lived to tell about it?"
Jubilee groans, burying her face in her hands. "Oh my god, stop. This is mortifying enough already."
Looking around the empty hallway, I suddenly realize someone's missing. "I'm surprised Professor Xavier isn't down here checking on me. Given how protective everyone is of the male students and all."
Jubilee's expression shifts, her earlier embarrassment replaced by something more serious. "Oh, after she talked to you, the X-Women have been in full crisis containment mode with the students. It's been absolute chaos upstairs."
"Why?" I frown, confused by the sudden change in topic. "What's going on?"
"You didn't hear who the Sentinels were here searching for?" Jubilee asks, her eyes widening in surprise.
I shrug, rubbing the back of my neck. "I guess I wasn't really paying attention."
Morgan sighs, finally recovering from her laughing fit. She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. "The Sentinels were broadcasting their target priority loud enough to wake the dead. They were looking for Sabretooth."
"Who's Sabretooth?" I ask, the name ringing only the faintest bell in my memory. Maybe Gabe mentioned it once or twice during his comic book rants, but I can't place it. "And why would that matter?"
Morgan's expression darkens, her earlier amusement evaporating completely. "We've got a whole assembly about it tomorrow. Xavier wants to address everyone at once rather than let rumors spread."
"Fair enough," I nod, suddenly feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. Between the Sentinel attack, my promotion to the X-Women, the sex, and having my face exploded, it's been one hell of a day. "I'm gonna head to bed."
"Probably for the best," Morgan agrees, her gruff voice softening slightly. "You've had quite the introduction to mutant life."
Jubilee steps forward, looking like she wants to say something more, but then thinks better of it. "Goodnight, Jack," she says instead, her voice small.
"Night," Morgan adds with a casual two-finger salute.
I give them both a tired smile before turning toward the elevator that will take me back to my room.