6143/The Doctor Needs a Doctor!

The Doctor Needs a Doctor!
Date of Scene:	09 January 2019
Location:	Xavier's School, Westchester, New York
Synopsis:	The X-Men learn that Doctor Strange's condition is more complicated than anyone knew.
Cast of Characters:	Forge, Psylocke, Beast, Storm, Doctor Strange

---

Forge has posed:
Following up on the information provided by Jean Grey, Forge has turned some of his attention from those who were afflicted by the sleep plague to their latest new visitor/patient. It's mid-afternoon, just after lunch for most of them. He is not inside the infirmary yet, he's outside in an observation area, after extending invitations to a few other X-Men. As a group, perhaps they can talk to Dr. Strange and get a sense of what exactly happened.

With a lunch offering ready on a tray, Forge waits for the others to appear, while looking over the information they DO have about the situation.

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy's inbox had been exciting today. She had gotten three e-bills, a request from a Nigerian prince for her to wire him money to help starving children, a note from her special someone, and a message from Jean about Doctor Strange. She opted to give that one her attention as soon as she was able. Interestingly, her messages went off again with Forge being the telepath and reading her mind.

When she arrived, she was in a button down white shirt with slim-legged, black dress pants. A short black boot covered her feet. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun with a pair of hair sticks holding it in place. When she spoke, it was with a posh British accent. "Hello, Forge. How's the patient?"

Beast has posed:
Since his return from his personal hiatus (doing who knows what), Hank has rarely been seen outside of his laboratory (of which has been closed to EVERYONE). So it is almost a surprise when the The furry blue leonine simian lopes into the observatory, his large cookie monster mug in hand. Even in his labcoat, the atavistic mutant looks.. shaggier.. than he did before he left on his hiatus.. in fact right now his mane is pulled back into a topknot. Half moon glasses are perched on his snout.

"I thought I was absolutely clear when I informed everyone that unless it was a true emergancy, such as an impending extinction level event or that we had run out of coffee, that I did /not/ wish to be disturbed." he gripes in his fuzzy baritone. He looks between Forge and Betsy, squinting. "And however did you even bypass my spam filter? Some more of your unreplicable technical wizadry, Forge? Or did you have Betsy lift the bypass password from my mind. Because either way is unnacceptable in my opinion and I /will/ foreward a complaint to management... Of which I /am/ part." grumble grumble grumble.

Forge has posed:
"Barely awake, from what I can gather from the equipment," Forge says seriously in response to Psylocke, offering her a position near him at the viewscreen. "Thank you for coming quickly." Beast's grumpy tirade falls upon a calm and efficient Forge. He gestures, "It was my wizardry, yes. I take full responsibility; it was, and could still be, extinction level."

Forge sighs a little, and gestures with his head towards the room. "He does not appear to be ill physically, but we were told he has amnesia, and I'm not sure about details outside of that. Jean suggested both a doctor and a telepath. Betsy, would you give us a gist of what to expect, and lead the way, please? I am unsure he knows where he is or why he's here." Forge looks human enough: casually dressed as usual, and gloved, he does not appear to be much of interest. He fades into the background compared to other more furry mutations.

Psylocke has posed:
"She didn't specify anything. I'm guessing she didn't get the chance to visit him herself," Betsy murmurs as he leads the way to the door that goes into where the good doctor is resting. She pushes open the door, not worried a bit that they happen to have a fuzzy (extra fuzzy) blue leonine simian along with them. In her mind, Doctor Strange likely already knows Dr. McCoy so it shouldn't be an issue. Right?

She pushes open the door to the medlab and enters, the heels of her shoes clicking against the floor with each step. "Hello, Doctor Strange. How are you feeling?" she asks with a friendly smile.

Storm has posed:
Ororo was aware of those gathering to Stephen Strange. She had a few items that had to be attended urgently, but the moment she got free, she endeavored to join them. As she enters the room, she looks around appraisingly at those present and nods to each in greeting, trying to ascertain the mood of those present. Then she takes up a place quietly to listen and see what she has missed

Doctor Strange has posed:
    Doctor Strange, a man of science, and action. A man of swift hands and a swifter mind, he was world renowned for his abilities as a neurosurgeon. Now, however, he feels he is a man waking from a coma several years after the last memories he posses. His defining moment, the car crash that took the use of his fine motor skills in his hands and ruined them. Strange slowly begins to rustle from his slumber and again he begins to anger at the sight of his scared hands. Believing he's missed ... a great deal of time based on the old scar tissue, he knows by that much he's slept long past the recovery period, so his anger is not only at his lost hands, but the loss of a huge chunk of time.

    Stephen's eyes snap over towards Betsy but his eyes are beginning to well up with tears of selfish sorrow and an impotent rage. "I'm -" He cuts himself off to try and stem the tsunami of vitriol behind his tongue. "I am- Where am I?" The doctor asks.

Beast has posed:
Beast squnits again at Forge.. Then sighs and, after a sip of his coffee, sets the mug aside and lopes over to the observation window. "Fine. I'll forgive you this once, so long as it turns out to /be/ a potential extinction level event. If not, then I reserve the right to replace your bionic hand with a lugwrench." he mumbles, and sidesteps so Betsy can walk into the examination room, peeking past Betsy and frowning.

"Doctor Steven Strange?" he asks, very surprised. "Why did no one TELL me?" he asks and quickly lopes in after the telepathic assasin. Of course, he is scatterbrained enough these days to not realize that he /ad/ been playing the hermit as of late.

Forge has posed:
"That information must have hit the spam filter, alas," Forge answers Beast with a quiet smile. He looks at Storm as she arrives, with a silent nod to her, and follows the others inside, with the tray offering of food.

"You're in a care facility in Westchester, New York," Forge supplies with an even manner and tone, with the intent to calm the other man with his own demeanor, if possible. "We're glad to have you back with us, and you must have a lot of questions. There's lunch here, if you'd like to try it." He sets down the food and draws back, with a small nod to Betsy. He takes up a position to the side, with a good view of the infirmary and the patient. He's not a doctor, but he can help in his way.

Psylocke has posed:
Betsy finds the bedside table and rolls it over, allowing Forge to place the tray upon it. Then her full attention goes to Stephen, noticing the welling of tears. She moves to his side and places a gentle hand on his arm, if he allows it. "It's okay. You're safe and in very good hands." She nods over toward Hank. "Doctor McCoy is here and he'll look you over."

Doctor Strange has posed:
    Stephen's eyes widen at the apperance of Hank and he shakes his head to clear the buzz that is building in his temples. Then Forge enters and this causes Stephen to blink rapidly. "Westchester!? Why am I in Westchester? I should be in Manhatten... This isn't even the closest center to-- to---" He trails off and looks from Beast, to Betsy who he pulls his hand away from, the very self conscius hands he doesn't want to even look at.

    "Doctor McCoy didn't have a prosthetic hand..." Stephen says, obviously confused and getting people mixed up as he's looking at Forge when he says it.

Beast has posed:
Beast hrmphs a bit over the diagnostic machines, and picks up the clipbboard (actually a X-Tablet) at the foot of Steven's bed as Forge explains what is going on, oblivious to the fact that Steven may not remember that he is, well, The Beast. "/I'm/ Doctor McCoy. /He/ is a glorified mechanic with delusions of grandeur." the blue Beast Quips, motioning to Forge. "But I have to admit, his bedside manner is rather good. Not as good as our Ms Braddock's bedside manner but..." he shrugs and lopes over to the side of the bed, scrolling through the info on his tablet as he jumps up on stool, perching, a with a prehensile foot plucks a tongue depressor off the side table. "Say aww, please."

Storm has posed:
Ororo frowns slightly, looking between Forge and Strange. "Try to focus, Dr. Strange. You are in good hands." Well, hand. "You have been through a great deal. We're going to make sure you're restored to your former glory." She smiles faintly at the Doctor, her gaze flitting to Forge.

Forge has posed:
Forge smiles with a relaxed acceptance into Dr. McCoy's comments about him. He lifts his shoulders a little in something that is barely a shrug; no arguments are made either way about the validity of the statement of what he does. He just doesn't mind.

He simply looks on, now, confident in letting the others do what they do best, and keeping an eye on things. Forge may have been prey to the BlackSleep for a time, but he doesn't wear any bad effects on his visage at the moment.

Psylocke has posed:
As the arm is pulled away, Betsy quickly pulls her hand back. Obviously touching is not something he is comfortable with. She won't do that again. "If you will give me permission, I'd like to look you over as well. In my own way." She reaches up a hand and touches her temple, tapping the pad of her index finger there twice. "Just a little scan to see how your brain is functioning. Will that be alright?"

Doctor Strange has posed:
    Stephen's eyes widen at the claim from Beast, "Y-you are doctor McCoy?!" The surgeon says with a more than sarcastic tone, he flat doesn't believe it. "Doctor McCoy was a good man, with a bright future, not some blue haired... ape." Stephen says, the way he describes things might make a few gears click that he's not from this same year, or maybe even half decade. He's incredibly regressed.

    "Good hands?!" He says, despite Betsy at the side of the bed he lashes out clumsily with his ungrasping hands and shoves the food off his table! "I CAN'T USE MY GOD DAMNED HANDS AND YOU PROMISE ME FORMER GLORY!?!" Stephen yells at Ororo, in the tantrum of his loss.

    Stephen doesn't realise these people have known him for so long and that most only know him as the sorcerer that he's forgotten. No, he's the egotistical, selfish a-list neurosurgeon that lives in Manhatten and has never lost a patient on his table. Not one. He's the best, but not any more. "You want to scan my brain?!" Stephen says as he tries to reach for the sheet -tablet thing Hank is holding. "How long have I been asleep?" Stephen says in a demanding tone, wanting to know more about his condition before answering Betsy.

Beast has posed:
"YOU WILL BE SILENT!"

Okay, that is not at all like Hank McCoy.. or is it. The command came out as a roar.. authorative and, yet, living upto his name de guerre. The Beast. Beastial. The catslit eyes narrow on Stephen as 'The Blue Ape' lashes out and wraps his HUGE hand around Stephens neck and lifts him almost off his ass above the bed and leans in close.. the tounge depressor forgotten.. hell, the other X-MEN forgotten.

"I do not have time for this Amnesia Nonsense. Nor do I have time for your /arrogant/, pre Sorcerer Supreme attitudes brought on my whatever has caused this bout of retrograde amnesia. I /AM/ Doctor Henry McCoy. And I am a /mutant/. I am /not/ An ape. I am just as good a doctor, a scientist, as I ever was. Every bit as you were, if not /more/ so. You may not remember me, but as a FELLOW DOCTOR you know what the symptoms of Retrograde amnesia are. So act like the Doctor you /are/ and do not /berate/ those who are trying to help you. Is this understood /Doctor/ Strange?"

Storm has posed:
Ororo's eyes go misty white, and the temperature in the room suddenly begins to plummet as the room darkens. "There will be decorum in this room," she says in a richly demanding voice, her face expressionless. "Let us not forget who we are, and why we are here."

Forge has posed:
Forge moved aside out of direct view, behind Storm, to open a supply cupboard where he knows some different injectable 'relaxants' are. During that moment, though, Dr. McCoy has made everything suddenly escalate even further. Forge will barely have time to prepare any of that before there's a lot of yelling. Still, Forge stays calm and keeps an ear on if anything is getting worse: while efficiently preparing for possible need of medical sedation.

For one doctor or the other.

Or both.

"Doctor McCoy," Forge says quietly, but firmly. It isn't a reprimand - in some ways what McCoy is doing may be what is needed with this patient--, but it's a reminder, backing up Storm's statement.

Psylocke has posed:
Everything goes to hell in a handbasket in seconds. Strange lashes out, food goes flying across the floor. Betsy jumps back out of range just in time as light flares around both of her fists, a violet glow that is brighter as Storm's powers come into play and darken the room.

While Forge is preparing his version of a sedative, she prepares hers as the violet butterfly glow appears around her eyes. "Please listen to Ororo. I would hate to have to psi blade yet another staff member. Or a guest."

Doctor Strange has posed:
    Stephen's hands clap against the fur of McCoy's wrist as he tries to struggle, but the time in the Astral plane did Stephen's muscles no favors and he's incredibly weak for it. Plus the damaged hands. Stephen grits his teeth and snarls just as angrily as Beast does, but there is fear tinting his voice, "I thought I had shit beside manners." Strange says, staring back into McCoy's eyes, not afraid of meeting his maker. "But retrograde amnesia..." Stephen trails off, his struggle against the furred doctor's grip ceasing. "It's not from the crash, is it?" Stephen asks.

    His eyes dart from Ororo, to Forge, then Betsy and lastly McCoy, the fear is palpable, but he's tired and his body can't handle the struggle at the moment.

Beast has posed:
/Beast/'s sharp teeth are grit tightly, a low rumble emenating from his broad chest as he continue to stare challengingly at Stephen, awaiting a proper response. But the chalenge lessens ever so slightly as Storm's dulcet tone cuts through that animal portion of his brain which has slowly been gaining more control over him the past few months. He closes his eyes a moment, twitching slightly, then his nostrils flare and he nods slowly. "Yes.. Yes... Decorum. You are right." he responds, his voice a bit rough as he sets the now-not-so-flailing Stephen down on the bed once more and releases him and then looks at Psyclocke, apologetically. "Your.. intervention.. will not be nessecary, Betsy.." he tells his friend, then looks back to Stephen, though not /as/ apologetically.

"Forgive me, Stephen. But to be fair, and mby your own admission, your bedside manner /was/ quite terrible, unless your patient was a blonde.. or a brunette.. or redhead. Preferably Five foot six and, as you admitted one night at a medical conference in Morocco, 'legs up to here'." He tugs at the lapels of his lab coat, recapturing his more dignified attitide.

"And no, the amnesia is /not/ from the car accident. That your memories seem to have been repressed to the point of your accidents is somewhat... Strangely specific, no pun intended. You coud have regressed to any point within your lifetime. Why /that/ moment?" he muses, then shakes his head again.

"Again, forgive me. The fact is many years have passed since yoru accident and, I am not going to hide any information from you as there is a good chance tehs shock of being told what has transpired in your lifetime since then could help you regain purchase, mentaly." he looks at Betsy. "With her help, of course. You udnerstand what telepathy is, yes?"

Doctor Strange has posed:
    Strange looks back at McCoy and blinks, "If the amnesia isn't based on my wreck... Are you saying that that moment in my life was chosen?! How? By who? Why?" Stephen asks repeatedly and continued selfish questions. "Of course I know what telepathy is." Stephen says looking from the blue furred doctor to the others in the room. "... I don't think that's such a good idea." He says but he's already at the point where his say so isn't really what's best for him.

Psylocke has posed:
"I promise it will be painless. You won't even know I'm in there," Betsy promises. The glow around her hands fades now that things have calmed down. THe butterfly aura remains. She reaches out with her mind to his, making this as quick as possible but insuring that she doesn't let him feel that she's in there. It is a quick scan, an attempt to find the memories that are being blocked and bringing them to the fore. Usually there is a barrier or a wall of some sort. Yet this time, there is...nothing. "What..." Her voice fades as the aura disappears, violet eyes focusing on Strange then she turns to Hank. "They're gone. Just...gone."

Storm has posed:
Ororo relaxes her tension and breathes a sigh, as the room begins to warm and brighten again. She takes a step back next to Forge, giving him a knowing look of apprehension as Psylocke works, and comes up empty. "Gone?"

Beast has posed:
Beast sighs, pulls off his half-moon spectacles, and massages the bridge of his leonine snout for a moment. "If you're afraid of what she may find in there, like repressed secrets or whatnot, trust me when I say that our lovely Betsy here has delved into far more... self-important and lecherous minds than your own." he points out and then slips the glassed back on as Psylock does her 'voodoo'. "She is as skilled a surgeon of the psychic realm as you and I are the neurological one...." He stops and urns to the assasin psychic surgeon and frowns. "What do you mean /gone/, Betsy? Thats impossible. I know they call such things memory wipes, but memories are not ephemeral things, like electronic data. They have /physical/ properties. They are engrams, stored as biophysical and biochemical changes in the structure of the brain's neurons. Neurolgical and Chemical Latices. Memories are never truly erased, only routed around or air-gapped. Unless they are physically damaged or removed, Like from invasive trauma. They /can't/ be erased like a magnet to an old floppy disk. Even telepathy doesn't physically ERASE memories... Just makes them innaccesable. Like changing administration rights on a network. The data should still be still /there/....

Doctor Strange has posed:
    "Gone?" Stephen asks simply while looking at Betsy and then turning to McCoy. Then Betsy again, "Gone? Are you certain?" He shouldn't doubt but he does, based on what he knows of the mind at this point. "If you're right, who or what could remove memories from a mind like that?" Stephen asks somewhat calmly.

Psylocke has posed:
"I'm sorry," Betsy says, glancing to Stephen apologetically. "I shouldn't have said it so bluntly but I've never seen anything like it." She glances to Ororo and Hank, discomfort visible in her expression. "I don't know how they are gone but they are literally gone. There is no sign they were ever there. I've done hundreds of psychic surgeries, humans, Asgardians. Yet I am finding no sign of his memories since the day of his car accident." She frowns a little then something clicks. "When we were in Mexico battling the Shadow King, the Mind Stone was present. It boosted Shadow King's powers. Then it seemed to have been taken out of play. After Doctor Strange disappeared." She looks to him again. "It might have the power to have done this."

Beast has posed:
Beast draws his paws down his face, shaking his head. "Betsy... if what you are saying is true then I.. I.. I do not know what we can do. We're talking about an artifact of, literally, cosmic level power. Able of not only breaking the laws of the universe, the very laws that guide how /reality/ works, but /ignoring/ them as if they were no more than an afterthought. Without access to the stone or.. something of similar power or ability..."

The Beast swallows hard.

"Oh my stars and garters.." he rasps....