Back with another chapter. This one's a tear-jerker.

Thanks to Jo the Phoenix for her editing efforts.

Let me know what you think!

Chapter Fifty-Five: If You Love Somebody Set Them Free

In the early hours of a mid-spring morning, Sam Guthrie found himself unable to sleep. This was not an entirely new phenomenon. In fact, the Southern gentleman was growing accustomed to not getting his full eight hours. There were times when he considered himself lucky to possess the ability to close his eyes.

Unwilling to continue tossing and turning, the tall, lean young man from Kentucky threw back the covers, sat up, and swung his legs over his bed. He rubbed his calloused hands over his stubble-ridden face, his pale-blue eyes weary. His shoulders hunched slightly as he began to experience a familiar ache in his chest. It was a deep pain, one that ate away at him and left him numb and empty for the rest of the day. A grimace marred his handsome features once he realized what had elicited this reaction.

Hours before, he had another dream.

About her.

Exhaling loudly, Sam raked his fingers through his straw-colored hair. He was disgusted with himself. It was as if a part of his psyche relished in torturing him with these fantasies, tempting him with his deeply buried hopes and desires. Perhaps he was one of those self-loathing masochists Dani talked about in her psychology lectures. What else could explain the seemingly routine cruel games his mind was playing with him? To believe that his ordeal was random was simply too terrifying.

Sam felt overwhelmed as a wave of shame engulfed his entire being. It was an emotion that was now a familiar companion these days. This was especially true when he reflected upon on his predicament. While the scenarios of his deepest wishes varied, the theme remained forever constant.

Jubilee was his.

In his dreams, he was haunted by images and feelings denied to him in his waking moments. There was no concern about any possible consequences. All that mattered was that she had chosen him and he was complete.

Until he awoke.

Tried as he did to purge the images from his mind, the Southern gentleman was at a loss. Sometimes, the poignancy was so vivid, he was left shaken and believing, for a brief moment, that his mind was depicting reality. He could taste her kisses, feel her warmth, and smell her trademark scent of bubblegum and cinnamon. He swore that he held her throughout the night, her body nestled close to his and fitting in all the right places. There were times when Sam expected to find her lying next to him, only to be disappointment to discover he was alone.

To say that Sam was desperately in love with her was an understatement. Even attributing the complicated mess that characterized his emotional state to his feelings for Jubilee did not come close to what he was experiencing. Rather, the realization that he could never be with her was like an ache that permeated every part of his soul. He was lost, living each day in a hopeless, painful fog that would never lift.

At first, he believed that putting on façade that all was normal would not be so trying. He could pretend that seeing her would not hurt him. He could pretend that knowing she was with someone else did not bother him. He could pretend he was not wishing for another kiss, another stolen moment.

But in the end, he was too miserable to do any of these things.

So Sam signed up for the assignment to Madripoor. Placing some distance between himself and Jubilee was a measure he wanted to try. After finding little solace and tranquility operating under his current plans, the Southern gentleman felt a new direction was needed. Though it pained him to be away from her, being close to her was unbearable. In the end, he had to do this.

For both of them.

He swallowed hard as he replayed the conversation he overheard between Jubilee and Hank. There was a part of him that was thrilled to hear that she had felt something in that kiss they shared. She had not simply brushed it off like it was some innocuous event, nor did she feel completely guilty about what transpired. Reading between the lines, she was touched by that brief encounter, more than Sam could ever dreamed.

However, she was not free of regret. That was evident in her tone, the way she talked to Hank, and the words she used. Now, ever since that moment, she was awkward and flustered around Sam. It was clear that she was experiencing some sort of torment. In spite of her insistence that things return to some semblance of normalcy, Jubilee continued to be troubled and haunted. She sounded frightened and despondent, consumed by her own remorse for having let down Bobby and herself.

For that, Sam ultimately blamed himself.

The Southern gentleman clenched his jaw as he rose from his bed. He made his way to his private bath, flicking on the light switch. With mechanical efficiency, he brushed his teeth. His strokes were harsh, as if he were attempting to scrub the stain of guilt from his mouth. He finally stopped when he felt his gums become numb.

As he rinsed out his mouth and splashed some water on his stubble-ridden face, Sam realized that he and he alone was responsible for all of this angst. After all, Jubilee had been fine prior to what happened. Had he not come along, insisting on torturing himself in order to be in her presence, things would have been fine. She would be happy and free of any guilt or remorse. There would be no strangeness between them.

Sam grabbed a towel from the nearby rack and buried his face in the mothering darkness. There were countless times he wished for the ability to manipulate time or to even remove the event from Jubilee's consciousness. As much as the Southern gentleman cherished what happened, his desire to ease her mind was greater. In the end, he simply cared about Jubilee too much to watch her go through any further turmoil. It hurt him deeply to know that she was agonizing over what he considered the single greatest moment of his life. Seeing him around the mansion on a daily basis certainly could not have helped matters. That poignant but incredibly awkward moment in the forest was a testament to his conclusion. This led to Sam making a difficult albeit necessary decision to spare his Jubilee.

He was leaving. For her. For both of them.

The tour in Madripoor was open-ended, meaning that the team would leave when the mission was accomplished. Given the complications involved with the objective, Sam realized a great deal of time would be spent on reconnaissance before executing any kind of plan. According to his rough calculations, this would take several weeks. During that time, he could immerse himself in other things, take his mind off of his misery, and allow the both of them some peace of mind. Painful as it was not to see her sweet face everyday, Sam knew this was the only option. He loved her that much.

The tall, lean young man from Kentucky slung the towel back on the rack. Given that there was a week until he and the rest of his team were scheduled to leave, he knew he had take inventory of the equipment he would need. He quickly dressed, pulling on a gray sweatshirt over a long-sleeved blue T-shirt, and a pair of faded jeans. Then he exited his bedroom before heading downstairs.

The brilliant sunshine that fell across the Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters brought a warmth that had not been experienced for quite some time. Flowers were beginning to bloom and color returned to the once-barren trees. The brisk, wintry air was replaced with gentle breezes, which swirled the fragrant scent of peonies from Ororo's garden. There was an infectious energy in the air, which was evident in the chirping from the birds in the trees to the scurrying movements of the squirrels and other small creatures that also inhabited the surrounding woods around the property.

Unfortunately, not everyone was able to experience the euphoria of the cheerful atmosphere.

Jubilee found herself standing in the bright kitchen of the Summers' farm-style, clapboard house this morning. She had been up for at least hour now, having showered and dressed for the day in a navy sweater set, a pair of chinos, and brown sandals. The heaviness in her body competed with the nervous fluttering in her stomach, causing her to appear preoccupied and anxious—not at all like herself. Not even the allure of Cook's jelly-filled doughnuts sitting on the kitchen table could raise her mood.

If only things were that simple.

Jubilee sighed, leaning against the counter and rubbing the heel of her hand against her forehead. She wondered how things had gotten so damn complicated. A year ago, she was happy and carefree. There was no need to think or second-guess herself because she felt secure in what she had and who she was with.

There were so many questions that raced through her brain when she thought about her predicament. When did things change? Why did this happen? How did things come to this? What could she do to fix this whole mess?

She bit her lower lip in frustration, replaying the events from the past several weeks. Granted, she and Bobby continued to keep in touch during his time away from the mansion through phone calls and emails. However, these conversations seemed so empty, so one-sided. Jubilee was usually the one to initiate contact, often calling him to see how things were going. Her queries were frequently met with hollowed reassurances that all was well and that he and his mother were tending to Bill. Towards the end of these calls, she would begin to dance around the issue that was most salient in her mind.

Are you okay? Are we okay?

For some reason, explicitly asking was too difficult. Her brain and tongue failed to work in tandem. She supposed it was because she felt there was no graceful way to inquire about their situation without appearing like some kind of insecure idiot. There was also the fact that Bobby had other pressing issues weighing him down these days: looking after his father, and making sure that his mother had the support she needed to get through this whole ordeal. In a way, it made sense that he was preoccupied and was not available to be there for Jubilee during this time.

Still, there was a nagging voice deep inside that told her something was amiss. This person who talked to her did not sound like her Bobby. There was a cold, hard quality to his voice she never thought she would hear from him. He was distant, not at all like the engaging, thoughtful and kind Bobby she had come to know and care about. This Bobby was reticent, rarely asked her how life was going for her, and even forgot Valentine's Day. Though Jubilee was not one of those women who put a great amount of stock in the holiday, she knew that it was a big deal for Bobby—at least last year it was. He had been the one to agonize over plans he had for them. He had been the one to become crestfallen once those plans had fallen through. To have it simply slip his mind this year was most unusual.

Concerned, Jubilee had called him on it—playfully, of course. She brought up Logan and Ororo's romantic excursion, which the entire mansion had been talking about in spite of the couple's efforts to keep things hush-hush. As she was speculating how her Wolvie would wine and dine Ororo, it was then that Bobby's memory was tapped.

"Dammit." He had exhaled loudly. "I'm so sorry, Jubes. I totally forgot. You must hate me."

She had been taken aback. This was the most emotion she had heard from in quite some time. It was not the kind she wanted to hear, but desperate as she was for any kind of response from him, she had decided she could settle for it. "Don't feel bad. I don't hate you."

"You should. I'm the worst boyfriend in the world. You should find someone else."

Jubilee had sucked in her breath, feeling as if he had dealt her a rather unexpected blow. Why would he say something like that? "Stop saying that. You're the best." Her voice was a mixture of hurt and indignation.

"No, I'm not," Bobby had insisted, his tone more despondent. He almost sounded as if he were struggling to keep from crying. "I let you down, Jubes."

"That's not true," she had told him, growing quite frightened all of a sudden. For some reason, his words and the quality of his voice instilled a sense of foreboding inside her. There was something else that bothered him, more so than the fact that he had allowed Valentine's Day pass from his mind.

"I have let you down. You're just not getting it."

"What does that supposed to mean?"

Bobby had paused, as if to rack his brain for something eloquent to say. After what seemed like eons, he finally said, "Nothing… I'm just tired. I guess being my dad's physical therapist isn't as easy as I thought it would be." He had tried to laugh to introduce some lightness to the conversation, but it sounded like a sharp, rough bark.

Suddenly, Jubilee became inspired. "I have an idea," she had said brightly. "How about I come up and spend some days with you. I could help out. I mean, spring break is like in two weeks…"

"No."

"But, Bobby, it's no big deal."

"It would be to me."

"What are you trying to say?"

"I'm saying don't come here. Please. I'm just not good right now."

"All the more reason to come see you. I can help and maybe we can…"

Bobby cut her off, his voice resolute. "For the last time, Jubes, no. No. Stay away."

Jubilee tried to blink back the tears that welled in her eyes as she remembered how Bobby hung up so abruptly. It was difficult not to be upset following that conversation. He sounded so strange, like a person she never knew. The fact that he was pushing her away deepened the wound. It was as if he did not need her, did not want her. This was not her Bobby.

Upon continued reflection, Jubilee realized that her tears were not only for her distant boyfriend. There was something else in the saline that blurred her vision at that moment. It was equally confusing and just as painful as things with Bobby.

The kiss.

Even now, tried as she did to push the moment from her consciousness, her mind would not allow her to forget what happened between her and Sam Guthrie. She could still feel the warmth of his lips against hers, his strong arms wrapped around her, and the feel of his hair underneath her fingertips. At first, she attributed the phenomenon to some sort of guilt response. After all, she had kissed another man who was not her boyfriend.

Yet, there was something else. After her conversation with Hank in the Med-Lab, Jubilee came to realize that her admission was true. Part of her did not regret that forbidden moment with Sam. Each time she thought about the kiss or dreamt about it, there was a tingling sensation that coursed throughout her entire body and a searing heat that prickled along her skin. It was as if she relished what happened despite the rational side of her that told her not to. What made things worse was the fact that she had not been able to confess what happened to Bobby.

Between this, the guilt, and the uncertainty surrounding her relationship with Bobby, life was becoming simply unbearable.

With that, Jubilee grabbed her canvas bag and her car keys. To hell what Bobby said. She was going to resolve the issues for the both of them.

After finishing his requisite cup of coffee, Sam placed his used mug in the dishwasher. The tall, lean young man from Kentucky was rather amazed as to how still and quiet the mansion was at this time in the morning. Granted, it was still early, but he had expected to run into Cook or someone else from the kitchen staff. Much to his surprise, there was no one around in the normally bustling room. In the end, he decided he preferred the solitude to being around others. The latter would only force him to act as if everything was fine when clearly he felt otherwise.

The tall, lean young man from Kentucky was contemplating a Danger Room session to exorcise some of his frustration when he heard the garage door open. Despite the reinforced walls and doors, the creaking motor could still be heard, bringing attention to the fact that the maintenance staff had yet to address this problem. Curious, Sam sauntered towards the door that connected the kitchen to the corridor that led to the garage. He opened it, realizing there was a part of him that he did not want to go through the second door at the end of corridor. Yet, his feet carried him forward, as if he were drawn to what was on the other side.

When the Southern gentleman reached the garage, he felt his heart pounding inside his chest. His hands began to sweat. He could hear his own breathing, which was all too palpable to his own ears. Still, he continued to walk. He walked towards a car—the only that was about to back out of its spot. It was a yellow, Volkswagen Beetle.

Jubilee's car.

Sam swallowed hard, not quite believing that he was beside her driver's side door. He wanted to scream at himself for placing himself in such a precarious position. Was he stupid? Was he crazy? Perhaps, it was a combination of both. Clenching his jaw, he was about to propel himself out of the garage in an attempt to make a quick escape. However, he stopped himself when the car ceased moving and the window rolled down.

Jubilee's sapphire eyes widened as she bit her lower lip. Sam Guthrie was the last person she had expected to run into this morning. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. While she intended to focus her thoughts and feelings on the situation with Bobby and her trip to Long Island, she found herself mesmerized by the handsome Southern gentleman standing outside her car window. She studied the strange, forlorn expression on his face, and wondered if he felt as lost as she did at that moment.

After what seemed like eons of silence, Sam cleared his throat. "Ah heard the garage," he said, trying to overcome the awkwardness that crept into his voice. Much to his chagrin, he could not.

Jubilee was too lost in her own sense of discomfort to notice anything was amiss with Sam. She managed to tear her gaze from him long enough to compose herself to respond. "Yeah, well, it was me," she replied in a low voice. As soon as she began speaking, her face began burning in spite of her best efforts to appear calm and collected.

He pressed his lips together, fully aware that his presence was behind the thick tension that hung in the air between them. Inwardly, he cursed himself. Short of fleeing immediately, the Southern gentleman racked his brain for a tactful exit. Unfortunately, his mind failed to cooperate with his wishes. Instead, the young man from Kentucky remained rooted where he stood, captivated by the woman he loved so much.

The woman he could never have.

Sam quickly became cognizant to the fact that he had to leave before inflicting any further pain for the both of them. He raked a calloused hand through his straw-colored hair nervously. As much as he wanted to soak up his time with her, he could not. "Ah should go," he told her quietly.

She nodded in agreement, dark hair spilling down her graceful shoulders and back. There was a part of her that was tempted to climb out of her car because she hated how things had deteriorated. She wanted to be his friend again, to listen and to empathize with him. The dejected tone in his voice ate away at her, and though she was not looking at him, she knew he wore an expression to match. This knowledge nearly evoked a shuddered cry from deep inside her throat.

Despite her need to comfort to Sam, Jubilee willed herself to stay in her car. Her lower lip trembled as she thought about what restrained her at that moment. She had to concentrate on her relationship with Bobby. There was no room for the complications that were inherent when it came to what existed between Sam and herself.

Taking a deep, shuddering breath, she said softly, "I should head out, too. I've got a long ride ahead of me." I Not exactly a lie, /I she told herself.

Sam swallowed hard. It was quite clear she was trying to make her own exit. He stepped back, as if granting her implicit clearance for her to go. However, as he did so, his mouth suddenly operated without coordinating with his brain. "Ah guess Ah won't see ya for a while, then."

Her head jerked up as she peered at him quizzically. "What do you mean?" she inquired.

Immediately, he regretted his outburst. However, there was no turning back now. He had to carry on with the conversation, as dictated by social mores. "Ah'm going away. To Madripoor."

"Oh." One would have thought that the prospect of Sam leaving the mansion would have provided some relief for Jubilee. Instead, she found herself feeling quite sad and empty. It was as if a part of her would be going with him as well. As thought about her response to what he was telling her, she wondered why it vexed her so.

He wasn't sure how to interpret her reaction to that piece of news. Was she happy? Was it something else? It was difficult to read exactly how she was feeling.

Jubilee stared up at him with those old-soul, blue eyes that seemed to hypnotize. "I'm going to see Bobby," she whispered, feeling suddenly guilty as she responded to his question. For a moment, she thought she saw something die inside him.

Sam clenched his jaw tightly. Reality was sinking again. She did not want him. She was with someone else. Someone who really deserved her. Not him.

Let her go, Sam. Let her go.

After what seemed to be an eternity of silence, the Southern gentleman stepped away from her and cleared his throat. It was an awkward sound, but so characteristic of how he felt at that moment. "You should go then," he muttered, tearing his gaze from her beautiful face. His voice became flat and dull as he added, "Don't wanna keep ya."

"Sam, I—"

"No. Don't say anything else. You gotta go."

Jubilee watched him shove his hands deeply into his pockets. She sensed his misery. It was so apparent for her to see. The shadow that fell across his face was nearly enough to pull her out of her car. Observing him in such a state made the young woman despise herself a little.

Because she knew she was somewhat responsible.

But as much as she wanted to say something eloquent and comforting, Jubilee realized that she could not. The tension between them at the moment seemed to render her speechless. Then there was the fear aspect that held her back. She was afraid that she might exacerbate the situation by some misstep on her part. It was quite possible that she could make things worse by attempting to reach out to him.

In the end, she could not risk it. There was too much at stake. Jubilee knew that if she stepped out of her car and went to Sam there was a chance she could hurt him again. Moreover, it was quite likely she could let Bobby down.

She exhaled heavily. Sam was right. She had to leave. For both of them.

Jubilee took a deep breath and stared up at Sam's forlorn face for one last time. "I'll see you around," she said, all too aware of how strange her voice sounded to her own ears. She tried to shake off her discomfort, taking off the emergency brake and backing out of her space slowly. Much to her dismay, it was not working.

As he stood in the garage, watching Jubilee's yellow Volkswagen Beetle pull out of the driveway and onto the winding road that led to the iron-wrought gates of the mansion, Sam felt his heart breaking into a million pieces.

Bobby Drake found himself seated behind the desk in his father's study. The boyishly handsome young man was scrutinizing medical bills and a leather-bound ledger Maddy maintained to keep track of household expenses. The cost of his father's stay at the hospital and the first month of treatment and rehabilitation were proving to be expensive, even with his father's insurance and Medicaid. Fortunately, the situation was not dire enough to necessitate Maddy to return to work, but it was certainly going to make things a little tight. After crunching a few numbers on his calculator and writing out a number of checks to be sent out, Bobby was able to balance his parents' accounts.

Leaning back in his chair, Bobby rubbed his temples gingerly with his fingertips. He had forgotten how tedious accounting was. The overwhelming sense of mind-numbing boredom had been the reason he left the profession. Yet, pouring over numbers seemed a relief for him. It helped distract his mind from other trying issues, but not for long.

Bobby closed his eyes, as if trying to block the bombardment of pain that weighed him down at the moment. Unfortunately, there was no amount of avoidant behavior he could engage in to keep himself from ruminating about his problems. The pang that resided in his chest was a constant companion with him. It only changed when he lapsed into his brooding over the state of his life.

Unconsciously, he placed a hand over his chest. The palm of his hand was met by the chill of ice. Bobby grimaced, his gray eyes bitter. Never did he thought the cold would be his worst nemesis. But he here was, cursing the ice that was as much a part of him as his very soul. It was as if he had been betrayed by every fiber of his being, helpless and powerless to exercise any kind of control in steering his destiny.

His mind began wandering, drifting to the events that played in that horrifying dream. The poignancy of what played out in his unconscious continued to resonate with him. Bobby's limbs trembled as he saw himself in his father's role as the invalid, trapped in a body that did not allow him any sort of physical contact. He saw Jubilee as his mother, drained all of her energy and beauty. Together, they were locked in a relationship that was devoid of everything he had come to cherish about what existed between them. And, while he wanted to dismiss the dream for it was, there was one thing he could not write off.

The feeling that his life was coursing down the path outlined by the dream.

Bobby swallowed hard, his hand still over his chest. He had tried many times to revert the icy patch to skin. Even with focused concentration, he failed. What was worse was the fact that the expanse of ice seemed to be growing with each passing day. It now stretched over his chest and his belly, making his ribs and internal organs completely visible. One could even see the blood flowing through his veins and his heart beat.

Whenever Bobby looked at himself in the mirror bare-chested, he could not help but shiver. It was not necessarily the cold that brought forth such a reaction. Rather, it was the thought of his future. He was destined to be a man encased in ice—never able to touch or receive touch. How could he fathom being with Jubilee when he could not even hold her close? What could he offer her? With the exception of certain hardship as a result of his condition, he was unsure. To expose her to a life with him, where he would be nothing but a burden, was not only unfair but cruel.

Bobby pressed his lips together in a thin, taut line. He knew his fears were completely unfounded. After all, he was a witness to a similar situation with his parents. His mother was spending all of her waking moments, tending to his father and trying to keep a brave face to the world. Meanwhile, at night, when she thought no one could hear, she wept. But Bobby, unable to sleep himself, heard her. He could detect her despair, her fear, and her loss of the life she knew.

I can't let that happen to Jubilee. I won't let that happen to Jubilee.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard a soft rapping at the door. Head jerking up, he saw Maddy standing in the doorway. She looked frail in her periwinkle fleece jacket, navy T-shirt, chinos, and sandals. Her cornflower eyes were subdued in their vibrancy as they peered over at him.

"Hi, Mom," Bobby greeted, closing the ledger.

Maddy tilted her head to the side, a lock of silvery-blonde hair falling across her forehead. She brushed it aside as she studied her son. It was almost eerie how much Bobby reminded her of Bill at that moment. Granted, there were the physical similarities—the gray eyes, the boyish features. However, the commonalities seemed to go further than that. There was the furrowed, perpetually tense expression Bill used to wear that was now passed on to Bobby. The twinkle that danced his Bobby's eyes and smile disappeared. In fact, the younger Drake rarely smiled nowadays. It aged him, far beyond his twenty-five years.

The observation forced Maddy to choke back a sob. She was all too aware that this was a trying time for the family. But to see her boy, devoid of the light that he seemed to exude on a regular basis and reduced to a shell of the man he once was, made her feel like a failure. She wished she could have shielded him from all of this pain, protected him from the hardships.

Yet, at the same time, she was unsure as to what she would have done without him. Bobby had taken over the responsibilities she and Bill would have dealt with. He was the bookkeeper, the primary contact when it came to scheduling appointments with doctors and therapists, and the one who forced her to rest after her long days with Bill. It was similar to the last time Bill had been bedridden, but Bobby seemed different now. There was something missing in this situation.

Hope.

Hugging her arms around her lithe frame, Maddy drawled in her throaty voice, "Could I get you something?"

Bobby shook his head. "I'm okay." The one thing I need, you can't possibly get. I wish it were that simple.

"Oh." Maddy nodded in the direction of the ledger. She had been too preoccupied in the last few days to even think about balancing the accounts. "Thank you. I wasn't sure when I was going to get around to that."

He shrugged. "Just trying to help out."

"Don't be so dismissive. You do so much." She leaned against the doorframe. "Why don't you relax a little?"

He gave his mother a wry smile. "I'll take that advice as soon as you follow it."

Maddy returned the dry expression. "Well, I'm taking your father to see Dr. Cavanaugh in an hour for his check-up," she said. "It'll give you a break from us for a while."

"I don't need a break," Bobby protested, shaking his head. Then he added, "In fact, I'll come with you."

"I'd rather you didn't," his mother told him gently. "There are things I need to do on my own."

"Are you sure? Because I don't mind."

"Yes, sweetheart, I'm sure."

"I'll leave my cell on, just in case."

"We'll be fine, I promise."

"Alright." Bobby was not all that convinced given how exhausted his mothers was lately. However, he knew that having her grow more and more dependent on him was not completely healthy, either. He nodded, relenting.

With her small victory in hand, Maddy began to relax slightly. "With your free afternoon, why don't you call Jubilee?" she suggested. "I'm sure the two you have a great deal to catch up on. It must have been weeks since you last saw her."

He winced, his gloominess returning to the forefront. "We talk on the phone," he said stiffly.

"It's not the same," Maddy insisted, clasping her hands together. "Listen, I know that things around here aren't conducive to having company over, but I actually wouldn't mind seeing her again. And, I'm sure that you would be—"

"No."

"Why not?"

Bobby was racking his brain for a cogent, rational answer to his mother's query when he heard a car pull into their driveway. Curious, he rose from his chair and made his way to the window, peeking through the blinds. What greeted his gaze made his heart leap—both with happiness and sheer panic.

It was Jubilee's yellow Beetle.

"Bobby, who is it?" Maddy asked as her son made quick strides from the window and towards the doorway where she stood.

He managed to squeeze past her in order to walk into the foyer. "I'll take care of this. Why don't you call Linden about Dad's therapy appointments for next month?"

She recognized that tone he used with her at that moment. Not quite dismissive, but clear that he did not want to elaborate. She had heard it so many times when he was a teenager. As much as she wanted to pry, she restrained herself. He was no longer her little boy. He was a man with his own issues, which necessitated a modicum of privacy.

"OK," she finally said, backing into the study and watching his retreating back. "I can do that."

But when she sat behind Bill's desk, she turned her head towards the window. The corners of her mouth tugged upwards as she saw a familiar figure climb out of a yellow car and walk towards her house. For that moment, Maddy believed that her son would be fine.

Carrying a fresh rosemary wreath she had picked up from the farmer's market in Westchester, Jubilee made her way towards the front door of the Drakes' home. Though she had been here before, she suddenly felt very nervous. Her mouth was dry like cotton, and her stomach performed a series of somersaults. As she inched closer to the door in order to ring the bell, she wondered if she had made the right decision. Bobby had told her explicitly that she did not have to come up here. At the same time, she could not ignore the strangeness in his voice, which belied the words he used. Taking a deep breath, she told herself that this is where she had to be, in spite of all of her anxieties surrounding their relationship.

Before she could ring the bell, the front door opened. Jubilee almost stepped back, incredulous upon seeing the person who answered it. Yes, it was Bobby, but he looked different. His gray eyes had taken on a steely quality, and there was a hardness to his boyish features that made him appear older than his years. He also seemed thinner, his red-and-navy polo shirt and chinos hanging off of his frame. It was quite clear that his family problems had taken their toll on him.

After a few seconds of absorbing this version of her boyfriend, she said softly, "Hi."

Bobby nodded woodenly. "Hello."

While she was not expecting a grand welcome, his seemingly indifferent greeting did unnerve her. Jubilee held out the wreath. "This is for your mother," she explained. "I think in the old days, people used to offer rosemary during times of sympathy."

He took the wreath from her. "Thanks." Then he opened the door wider and motioned for her to enter the house.

She watched him place the gift on the banister of the staircase as she followed him inside. When he turned around to face her, she had expected him to reach for her. To her dismay, he remained at arm's length. His face was fixed in an expressionless mask as he stared at her with those increasingly cold, gray eyes.

"What are you doing here?" he finally asked.

Surprised, she blinked. This was definitely not how she had anticipated things. "I wanted to see you," she managed to say despite the lump that was rising in her throat. "I thought you could use a visit…"

"Even after I said I needed to be alone?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I know you said that, but it seemed like you could have used some company. It sounded like… I don't know… Maybe you didn't want to be alone." Jubilee cringed as she heard herself fumbling.

Bobby narrowed his eyes. "So you're telling me how I'm feeling now?"

"No," she protested, sapphire eyes widening in disbelief. "No, I'm not. I just wanted to be here for you." Then she added in a small voice, "Because I thought that's what we did for each other."

He inhaled sharply, aware of how right she was. However, he could not let her on to this fact. He had to stand firm. This was something he had to do.

"What we do for each other," he began coolly, "is that we listen. No one person has the right to dismiss the other's wishes."

She looked stung upon hearing his harsh statement. A puzzled frown marred her features as she asked, "Are you saying that I don't care about what you want?"

Bobby was rendered mute at the moment. He certainly knew that was not the case. However, he was unable to respond in kind.

Jubilee continued, the hurt and pain driving her to speak. "You have no idea. You have no idea how much I've agonized about coming up here to see you. I wanted to give you your space to deal with what's been going on with your dad. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel like something else was wrong. With us. So, I came up here, hoping that we work things out so we would be okay again."

He watched her take a shaky breath, despising himself with each passing second. He hated the fact that she was suffering because of him. But in the end, this would be brief compared to the lifetime of hardship that was guaranteed in a future with him.

She peered over at him. The impassive look on his face made her flinch slightly. It was so strange to see him like that. This was certainly not the Bobby who professed his feelings for her. No, this Bobby appeared as if he could care less about how emotional she was at this moment.

Perhaps it was this façade of indifference that compelled her to make her confession, to tell him the secret that she had been harboring for so long that consumed her with guilt on a regular basis. Jubilee wanted to get some sense that Bobby could feel something—anything. Any emotion would provide some sort of building block to work with. They could heal together and everything could be as it once was.

Or so she thought.

After Bobby finished listening, he felt himself reeling. He was not concerned about the kiss with Sam Guthrie. From the way Jubilee characterized the event, it was part of a harmless prank. In fact, he felt comfortable and secure in the knowledge that she would never cheat on him. There was nothing duplicitous about Jubilee. Their relationship was a testament to that.

However, he knew that she had given him an opportunity with her revelation.

He shook his head and exhaled loudly. "I can't do this anymore, Jubes."

"What are you saying, Bobby?" she whispered, feeling the lump in her throat expand and nearly cutting off her oxygen.

He tried not to choke, remembering his dream and the entries from his father's journal. As much as it pained him to do this, he knew what he was about do was for the best. There was no way he was going to allow Jubilee to suffer the same fate as Maddy. She was not going to be tied down to someone who had no future. Bobby was damned sure of that. He loved her too much for that.

Somehow, he was able to maintain his steely composure. It took every ounce of strength to remain steadfast to his commitment. He took a long look at that beautiful face, absorbing every detail of the eyes that captivated him, the mouth that tasted so sweet, the nose that was the recipient of playful kisses throughout their time together. Memories of the past two years suddenly flooded his brain at that moment: their first kiss after Bobby finally confessed his feelings for her, their first date, the first time when they said 'I love you' to one another, and the first time they made love. Each moment he cherished so deeply, reminding him of how much he truly cared about his Jubilee.

Which was why he had to let her go.

Bobby sighed, trying to imprint those memories into his brain and heart as he chose his words. He needed them in order to draw some strength for the arduous task in front of him. "I mean I can't deal with us, Jubes," he said quietly.

"What?" she cried. She could feel her knees wobble. Quickly, she placed a hand on the wall to steady herself. This had to be some kind of joke. "You don't mean that."

He tried not to look at her, finding it painful to watch her reaction. "Yes, I do," he replied flatly. "I'm going through a lot right now, and I don't know how long I'm here for. Not only am I taking care of my dad, but my mom, too. It's a lot on my plate.

"Then you come up here, after I repeatedly told you not to," he continued, gray eyes taking on a steely quality to match his tone. "It's like you didn't respect my wishes."

"I do, Bobby," Jubilee insisted, shaking her head and biting her lower lip. She reached out a hand to place on his arm, but was crushed when he drew back from her. Her voice dropped a frightened whisper as she said, "I just thought you needed me."

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest, wincing. His response was a combination from the extreme cold that radiated from the icy patch and the poignancy of the situation. I do need you, he thought, his own heart breaking with each passing second. I need you more than you'll ever know. But I have to do this. I have to do this for you.

Taking a deep breath, he forged ahead. "What I needed was some space," he informed her, attempting to convert his despondency into anger. "What I also needed was a girlfriend who wouldn't cheat on me."

She stared at him in disbelief. "I told you it only happened once. You've got to believe me." This definitely was not her Bobby. The man standing across from her, behaving so coldly, was the not the one she loved. He looked like Bobby, but this was person was a stranger. The things he was saying and how he was saying them were foreign, flying the face of everything she knew about her boyfriend. "I would never hurt you, Bobby. I'd die first."

Bobby believed her. He pressed his lips together in an attempt to stifle himself from returning the sentiment. Hearing the pain in her voice and the confusion in that beautiful face of hers almost him reconsider his decision. The last thing in the world he wanted was to hurt Jubilee. She had been through so much in her young life. To be another person imposing some kind of traumatic experience upon her seemed like the ultimate betrayal.

However, he remembered the passages of his father's journal and the all-too vivid dream he had. The idea of Jubilee's liveliness and energy being drained as a result of staying with a man who had nothing to give her was devastating. Bobby could never allow her to be tied down to him the way his mother was tied down to his father. He loved her too much for that.

With a firm and unwavering resolve, Bobby remained steadfast to his decision. "I want to believe that, Jubes," he said, trying to mask his own heartbreak by hiding behind a façade of impassivity. "But right now, I don't think I can handle what you've done on top of what else is going on. It's all too much for me."

"Please, Bobby. I've already said I was sorry and that I would never do it again. And, if you want me to leave right now, I will." Tears were stinging her eyes, blurring her vision as she struggled to speak. She was shuddering now, yet somehow she was not sobbing. "But please don't say it's over. Not because of this. I'll do anything you want. You name it and I'll do it… Just don't give up on us. I love you, Bobby."

"Jubes…"

"No, Bobby. I won't let you do this! Don't talk as if things are over because they aren't!"

There was nothing more Bobby Drake wanted to do than to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything was going to be alright. He grimaced once he remembered the icy barrier that promised to separate them. There was no way she would want to get close to that. How could anybody? No one could ever love a man who was made of ice. It simply wasn't possible.

I love you, Jubes. You'll understand afterwards. Even if you don't, you'll be happy and that's all that matters. He blinked back his own tears and swallowed the choking cry that had been building inside of him. "There's nothing that can be done," he said woodenly, trying not to be moved by Jubilee's crying. However, this was futile. Watching her suffer because of pain he was inflicting filled him with self-loathing he had never known before.

However, he realized that if the conversation went further, he would not be able to let her go as he planned. It had to end now. Perhaps, it would be less painful for the both of them.

Walking towards the front door, Bobby grabbed the knob tightly and pulled it open. "I think you'd better leave now," he told her, sounding eerily like his father at that moment.

Jubilee wiped her tears away with the back of a shaking hand. This all felt too surreal, as if she were trapped in some horrible nightmare. Yet, everything about what was transpiring between them was very real. The ache that was piercing her heart was too vivid to be brushed aside as a figment of her imagination.

There was a million things she wanted to do besides leave. She wanted to fight for him and for what they had. She wanted to tell him off, scream at him as to what the hell he thought he was doing. But most of all, she wanted to have things the way they had been.

Yet, she found herself complying. Her feet seemed to a have a will of their own, steering her towards the door and past Bobby. As she pushed open the screen door, the young girl stared at the boyishly handsome face she associated with so many pleasant memories. It was now set into an expressionless mask, as if nothing about the pain she was experiencing at that moment affected him. She thought about saying something to him, but her tongue seemed paralyzed in her mouth. Flashing him a wounded and angry glare, she quickly darted out of the house and to her yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked in the driveway.

Quickly, Bobby closed the front door. The thudding of his heartbeat drowned out the sound of the engine starting and the squeal of the tires as Jubilee's car pulled out of the driveway and into the street. He knew he had been a bastard and that he done something so reprehensible to the one person he swore he would never hurt. In fact, this had to be the most difficult thing he had ever had to do in his entire life.

But in the end, he had to do it. Jubilee needed to be with someone who had a future, someone who could provide her with all the things that he would no longer be able to. It was her happiness that was paramount, not his own.

"Love is not always so happy. There will be troubles ahead. It will be up to you to be strong when things look bad. Even when all hope seems lost."

Upon remembering the old gypsy's words, he pressed his forehead against the door and began to cry.