Title: A Friend in Need II: Sweet Child of Mine 14/22
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Archive: Sure, just please ask first
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and some disturbing imagery
Summary: Jubilee is well on the way to recovery from the physical injuries she
sustained during "A Friend in Need," thanks to the help of Logan and Jean. The
psychic damage, however, has been slow to heal: she is still plagued by regular
nightmares and her memory has not yet returned. And while Jean's endless devotion
to Jubilee is helping her to recuperate, it is starting to put a strain on Jean's
marriage to Scott.
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Generation X are property of Marvel Entertainment.
Characters are used without permission, no profit is being made, and no infringement
on copyright is intended.
*****
A Friend in Need II: Sweet Child of Mine
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Chapter 14
"That was a great lecture, Mr. Summers," Paige Guthrie said, hugging her books
to her chest, as she approached the podium. "Real inspirin'."
"Thanks, Paige. You all have been a wonderful class. There's never a shortage of
good questions," Scott replied, as he gathered his notes and overheads.
"Do you really think that anyone can make a good leader?"
"I think anyone can be a leader, but being a good one takes certain qualities."
"Like what?"
"Well, you've attended my series of lectures," Scott said, walking to the front
of the table where the overhead projector sat and leaning on it. "You tell me."
"Oh, Ah, uhm. . . ." Flushing, Paige tugged at the collar of her shirt. "Uhm,
well, you've got to have good tactical skills. Know all sorts of battle
strategies an' stuff like that."
"That will help make you a successful commander, yes. But not necessarily a good
leader. What makes someone a good leader? Think of when you kids have been on a
mission, and Sean's in charge. Why do you all follow him?"
She pursed her lips, pondering. "Well, Mr. Cassidy, he always seems so
confident. Like he knows what it is we need to do to win. He gives us great pep
talks, they're always real inspirin'-like."
"So a good leader needs to inspire confidence in his or her followers."
"Uh huh. And it's clear that he cares about us, and what happens to us. It's not
like we're expendable soldiers. He wants each and every one of us to come home,
unscathed."
"In other words, a good leader needs camaraderie with the rest of the team. A
real, human connection. What else?"
"He never makes us do anything he's not willing to do himself. It's not like
he's better than us, or unwilling to fight side-by-side with us."
Scott nodded. "I think you've answered your own question, Paige."
"So you think that a person that emanates those kinds of qualities can become a
good leader?"
"I think so, yes. For some, it just seems to come naturally. Others, though,
need time and experience to grow into the role. It's different for each person."
"How about you? Which kind were you?"
Scott smiled. "Well, when I was your age, I was a bit on the shy side. Social
situations were always a little awkward. But in the heat of battle, it was as
though something clicked. I knew what had to be done, and what to say to get
people to do it. It was the most natural feeling in the world."
"So you were a natural?"
"Much of it was instinctual for me, yes. But that's not to say that I still
didn't have a lot to learn. Things like how to deal with obstinate, not-quite-
team-players."
She smirked. "You mean, people like Mr. Logan?"
The corners of Scott's mouth lifted. "Every group's usually got a Wolverine, in
one form or another."
"Don't I know it."
"Get to know your people, Paige. Their strengths and their weaknesses, their
habits and their faults. If you know them well, then you'll know how best to
command them. And if they know you, trust you, and your judgment, they'll be
prepared to follow you into hell and back."
Paige nodded as his words sank in. "I understand, Mr. Summers. Thanks!"
"My pleasure, Paige. I'm glad you got something out of my lectures."
"I think everyone enjoyed them, sir. It's always nice when one of the X-Men
comes to teach us for a while."
"Well, I think Hank's in the process of preparing some lectures for next month."
"Cool. So, you headin' back to Westchester today?"
"Yes, my flight leaves later this afternoon."
"Can you give this to Jubilee for me?" Paige asked, handing him a book.
"_The Three Musketeers_?" Scott asked, reading the title.
"Yeah, we're reading it for English class. Thought she might enjoy it. I have a
letter and some pictures inside the front cover for her."
"I'll make sure she gets it, Paige."
"Thanks, Mr. Summers. I appreciate it. Well, I've gotta get to my next class.
Have a safe trip back, and say hey to Jubilee for me."
"I will. Take care, Paige."
"You, too, sir." With a smile and a wave, Paige turned and headed toward the
door.
Adding the novel to his small pile of papers and books, Scott walked over to the
lectern to make sure he had not forgotten anything. Finding the surface and
shelf below clear, he turned to leave, and nearly jumped back when he came face-
to-face with Banshee.
"Jesus, Sean, you scared the life out of me."
"Sorry 'bout that, Scotty. Didn't mean to give you a start. Just came by to see
how it went."
"It went quite well, Sean. The kids seemed to enjoy the lectures. I was just
telling Paige how attentive she and her classmates were, and how great their
questions were."
"Aye, they're a good bunch, this group. Bright as the sun, an' sharp as a tack,
each an' every one of 'em."
Scott nodded in agreement.
"So, ye headin' back now?"
"I was just going to go back to my cottage, throw this stuff in my bag, and head
to the airport."
"Things are better at home, then? You had said something the other day about
possibly keepin' on another week or so."
"Can't get anything past you, eh, Sean?" Scott asked with a smile. "Jean finally
spoke to me when I called last night. I think we're on the way towards working
things out. We're going to go out to dinner tonight, just the two of us, and
have a nice long talk."
"That's great news, Scotty. I'm glad you two are speakin' again. I was worried
there for a while."
"Me, too, Sean. Me too. Jean and I have had arguments before, but never quite
like this. I'm not quite sure wh--"
The force of the words alone shouting in his mind took Scott completely by
surprise. But they were also accompanied by a wave of emotion--sheer panic,
stark terror, and a complete sense of loss of control. It was like being
submerged in ice water, punched in the gut, and being unable to draw a breath
all at the same time. The mental contact knocked Scott off of his feet. The
papers and books tumbled from his hands as he grabbed on to the table to keep
from falling to the floor.
"Scott!" Sean shouted, reaching for him. Grasping Scott by the arm, he helped
him to his feet. "Are ye okay, lad?"
Scott brought a trembling hand to his forehead, even as he gasped for breath.
"Scott, can ye hear me?" Sean asked. "Are ye okay? Ye've gone white as a ghost."
"I-I'm fine, Sean. I was just caught a little off guard."
"By what?"
"I'm not sure, exactly. I think it may have been some sort of psychic
projection."
"Jeanie perhaps, contacting you telepathically?"
"It felt like Jean, yes. But it wasn't a simple communication. It was more . . .
empathic. More like a projection of emotions. I'm not sure."
"Well, can ye try projecting back to her? Ye two have a mindlink, don't ye?"
Scott shook his head. "She hasn't been maintaining our psychic rapport for a
while now." Nonetheless, he attempted to contact his wife through their now-
defunct mental connection. As expected, there came no reply, and he was as alone
in his mind as he had been in recent days. An icy chill gripped his heart.
"Something's wrong. I need to get home. I need to make sure Jean's okay."
*****
Jubilee threw open the door, bolted down the front steps, and took off across
the lawn at a full run. It was pouring, and in mere moments she was soaked. But
she did not even notice. All she knew was that Jean needed help, and that she
was the only one who could get it for her. She had to hurry. All that blood,
those terrible pains . . . if anything was going to be done for her, it had to
be done soon.
Abruptly, her foot slipped, and she crashed to her knees, mud splattering over
her clothes, her face, and her hair. Ignoring it, Jubilee pushed herself to her
feet, nearly falling again in the process. But then she was upright, and she
forged ahead as fast as her legs would take her.
Still, it did not seem fast enough. She had to go faster, push herself harder.
She willed herself to run more quickly, legs pumping, lungs burning. Soon, she
could see the light of the mansion in the distance. Almost there. Less than a
minute.
As she approached the back patio, she could make out the silhouette of two
figures standing below the awning. She tried to call to them, but her voice was
swallowed by the wind and the rain.
She was so intent on trying to get their attention that she did not notice the
fallen tree branch a few feet ahead of her until it was too late. Her foot
struck the side of the branch, and she tumbled face-first onto the mud-covered
ground, her shin banging into the object hard. She cried out in surprise and
pain, but was rewarded with a mouthful of mud. Spitting it out in disgust, she
tried to raise herself. Her hands kept on slipping, and she was unable to get
sufficient purchase. Even if she could get a decent grip, she no longer felt as
though she had the strength to even stand.
"Help me!" she cried, tears of desperation filling her eyes as she waved toward
the mansion. She could hardly hear her own hoarse shouts above the roaring
winds; whoever was standing on the patio certainly could not.
More than anything, Jubilee just wanted to give up and just lie there. But she
knew that she could not. Jean was counting on her. She could not let Jean down.
But what could she do, tired and weak as she was, sprawled on the muddy ground
in the middle of a downpour? How could she get the attention of those people?
The solution was so painfully obvious, she chided herself for not thinking of it
sooner. She just hoped she had sufficient energy to put her plan into action.
She was barely able to raise her arms in front of her; as it was, her hands did
not end up any higher than her head. Taking a deep breath, she focused all of
her concentration on a single task.
Miraculously, it worked better than she could have hoped. Huge bursts of
fireworks shot forth from her hands, several yards into the sky toward the
mansion. She managed several rounds of plasmoids before her arms sank to the
ground, exhausted. Her face followed suit as she rested her cheek on her arm.
Then all she could do was pray that she had succeeded.
A few moments later, she thought she heard shouts in the near distance. She
somehow managed to will herself to lift her head a moment before she could make
out a couple sprinting toward her. It was not until they were nearly on top of
her that she was able to recognize them: Rogue and Remy. Thank God they had seen
her signal.
"Need help!" Jubilee yelled. "Jean's in trouble!"
It looked as though Rogue was trying to shout something to her, but Jubilee
could not make it out. She thought she saw Remy shake his head and gesture
toward Rogue.
Jubilee was about to try again when she felt Gambit and Rogue each grab an arm
and lift her to her feet, directing her toward the mansion. Too weak to argue,
Jubilee allowed them to lead her to the shelter of the patio. As soon as they
arrived, she sank to the concrete, exhausted and gasping for breath.
"Petite, what's wrong? What de hell you doin' out inna rain?"
Jubilee opened her mouth to speak, but no words came as she struggled to suck
air into her lungs.
"Sugah, yer gonna catch yer death," Rogue chastised. "Remy, c'mon, let's get her
inside."
"No!" Jubilee sputtered, chest still heaving from her exertion. "Help . . . need
help!"
"That's what we're tryin' ta do, Sugah. Now, let's get'cha dried an' warmed--"
"Jean! . . . *She* . . . needs . . . help!"
"Jeanie?" Remy asked. "What's wrong wit her? Where she at?"
"H-house," Jubilee gasped, trying to catch a full breath. "Pain . . . blood . .
. collapse . . . help! . . . She . . . Help her! . . . Please!"
In the meager light of the patio lantern, they could see the fear in Jubilee's
tear-filled eyes.
Remy looked at Rogue, who nodded.
"We'll go help her," Rogue told Jubilee. "You go on inside, find Hank, an' let
him know we're comin'," she told the girl. "C'mon, Remy." Grabbing him under the
arms, Rogue took to the air and toward the house.
"Hurry!" Jubilee called to them, even as her voice was swallowed by the roaring
wind. "Please hurry!"
*****
Seeing the front door open, Rogue flew them right inside and into the living
room. Placing Remy on his feet, Rogue touched down beside him.
"You check the bedroom," she told him. "Ah'll check up here."
Nodding, Remy headed toward the back of the house.
"Jean!" Rogue called, glancing around the living room as she headed into the
dining room. "Jean, can ya hear me? Jean!" Finding both rooms empty, Rogue
walked into the kitchen. She immediately saw Jean propped against the far
counter, chin to her chest.
"Remy!" she shrieked. "She's in here!" She took a flying leap over to Jean's
side. Kneeling, she caught sight of the blood staining Jean's skirt. "Sweet
Jesus! Jean!" She touched her arm, but there was no response. Rogue took her by
both shoulders and gave her a good shake.
Jean stirred, but seemed barely able to lift her head. Her face was white as a
sheet. She blinked, trying to focus on Rogue's face.
"Jeanie, it's Rogue. Can ya hear me, Sugah?"
"Help me," Jean murmured, eyelids fluttering. "Please . . . help. . . ." Her
eyes rolled back, and she drifted unconscious again.
"Find 'er?" Remy asked, hurrying into the kitchen.
"Over here!" Rogue called.
Remy ran up behind her, and gasped. "*Sacre bleu*!"
"Ah found her like this," Rogue explained. "Jesus, there's so much blood. Don't
see a gunshot or stab wound. God, looks like she's hemorrhagin'."
"Ain't no wound," Remy said, pulling off his coat.
Rogue pulled Jean forward, allowing Remy to wrap his coat around her. "If there
ain't no wound, then where's alla this blood comin' from?"
"She wit chile," he said softly, picking up Jean's unmoving form and handing her
to Rogue. "'Least, she was."
Rogue met his eyes then, saw only sadness there. "But--"
"Ain't nothin' more can be done here, chere. Go on," Remy coaxed. "Get her to
the medi-lab, so Henri can help 'er. You'll go faster wit'out Gambit's weight.
Meet you dere. Go on, now."
Swallowing back her own tears, Rogue nodded. A moment later, she took to the
air, cradling Jean close to her as she sped back toward the mansion.
End Chapter 14
*****
Author: Somogyi
Email: somogyi02@yahoo.com
Archive: Sure, just please ask first
Rating: PG-13 for language, violence, and some disturbing imagery
Summary: Jubilee is well on the way to recovery from the physical injuries she
sustained during "A Friend in Need," thanks to the help of Logan and Jean. The
psychic damage, however, has been slow to heal: she is still plagued by regular
nightmares and her memory has not yet returned. And while Jean's endless devotion
to Jubilee is helping her to recuperate, it is starting to put a strain on Jean's
marriage to Scott.
Disclaimer: The X-Men and Generation X are property of Marvel Entertainment.
Characters are used without permission, no profit is being made, and no infringement
on copyright is intended.
*****
A Friend in Need II: Sweet Child of Mine
by Somogyi
somogyi02@yahoo.com
Chapter 14
"That was a great lecture, Mr. Summers," Paige Guthrie said, hugging her books
to her chest, as she approached the podium. "Real inspirin'."
"Thanks, Paige. You all have been a wonderful class. There's never a shortage of
good questions," Scott replied, as he gathered his notes and overheads.
"Do you really think that anyone can make a good leader?"
"I think anyone can be a leader, but being a good one takes certain qualities."
"Like what?"
"Well, you've attended my series of lectures," Scott said, walking to the front
of the table where the overhead projector sat and leaning on it. "You tell me."
"Oh, Ah, uhm. . . ." Flushing, Paige tugged at the collar of her shirt. "Uhm,
well, you've got to have good tactical skills. Know all sorts of battle
strategies an' stuff like that."
"That will help make you a successful commander, yes. But not necessarily a good
leader. What makes someone a good leader? Think of when you kids have been on a
mission, and Sean's in charge. Why do you all follow him?"
She pursed her lips, pondering. "Well, Mr. Cassidy, he always seems so
confident. Like he knows what it is we need to do to win. He gives us great pep
talks, they're always real inspirin'-like."
"So a good leader needs to inspire confidence in his or her followers."
"Uh huh. And it's clear that he cares about us, and what happens to us. It's not
like we're expendable soldiers. He wants each and every one of us to come home,
unscathed."
"In other words, a good leader needs camaraderie with the rest of the team. A
real, human connection. What else?"
"He never makes us do anything he's not willing to do himself. It's not like
he's better than us, or unwilling to fight side-by-side with us."
Scott nodded. "I think you've answered your own question, Paige."
"So you think that a person that emanates those kinds of qualities can become a
good leader?"
"I think so, yes. For some, it just seems to come naturally. Others, though,
need time and experience to grow into the role. It's different for each person."
"How about you? Which kind were you?"
Scott smiled. "Well, when I was your age, I was a bit on the shy side. Social
situations were always a little awkward. But in the heat of battle, it was as
though something clicked. I knew what had to be done, and what to say to get
people to do it. It was the most natural feeling in the world."
"So you were a natural?"
"Much of it was instinctual for me, yes. But that's not to say that I still
didn't have a lot to learn. Things like how to deal with obstinate, not-quite-
team-players."
She smirked. "You mean, people like Mr. Logan?"
The corners of Scott's mouth lifted. "Every group's usually got a Wolverine, in
one form or another."
"Don't I know it."
"Get to know your people, Paige. Their strengths and their weaknesses, their
habits and their faults. If you know them well, then you'll know how best to
command them. And if they know you, trust you, and your judgment, they'll be
prepared to follow you into hell and back."
Paige nodded as his words sank in. "I understand, Mr. Summers. Thanks!"
"My pleasure, Paige. I'm glad you got something out of my lectures."
"I think everyone enjoyed them, sir. It's always nice when one of the X-Men
comes to teach us for a while."
"Well, I think Hank's in the process of preparing some lectures for next month."
"Cool. So, you headin' back to Westchester today?"
"Yes, my flight leaves later this afternoon."
"Can you give this to Jubilee for me?" Paige asked, handing him a book.
"_The Three Musketeers_?" Scott asked, reading the title.
"Yeah, we're reading it for English class. Thought she might enjoy it. I have a
letter and some pictures inside the front cover for her."
"I'll make sure she gets it, Paige."
"Thanks, Mr. Summers. I appreciate it. Well, I've gotta get to my next class.
Have a safe trip back, and say hey to Jubilee for me."
"I will. Take care, Paige."
"You, too, sir." With a smile and a wave, Paige turned and headed toward the
door.
Adding the novel to his small pile of papers and books, Scott walked over to the
lectern to make sure he had not forgotten anything. Finding the surface and
shelf below clear, he turned to leave, and nearly jumped back when he came face-
to-face with Banshee.
"Jesus, Sean, you scared the life out of me."
"Sorry 'bout that, Scotty. Didn't mean to give you a start. Just came by to see
how it went."
"It went quite well, Sean. The kids seemed to enjoy the lectures. I was just
telling Paige how attentive she and her classmates were, and how great their
questions were."
"Aye, they're a good bunch, this group. Bright as the sun, an' sharp as a tack,
each an' every one of 'em."
Scott nodded in agreement.
"So, ye headin' back now?"
"I was just going to go back to my cottage, throw this stuff in my bag, and head
to the airport."
"Things are better at home, then? You had said something the other day about
possibly keepin' on another week or so."
"Can't get anything past you, eh, Sean?" Scott asked with a smile. "Jean finally
spoke to me when I called last night. I think we're on the way towards working
things out. We're going to go out to dinner tonight, just the two of us, and
have a nice long talk."
"That's great news, Scotty. I'm glad you two are speakin' again. I was worried
there for a while."
"Me, too, Sean. Me too. Jean and I have had arguments before, but never quite
like this. I'm not quite sure wh--"
The force of the words alone shouting in his mind took Scott completely by
surprise. But they were also accompanied by a wave of emotion--sheer panic,
stark terror, and a complete sense of loss of control. It was like being
submerged in ice water, punched in the gut, and being unable to draw a breath
all at the same time. The mental contact knocked Scott off of his feet. The
papers and books tumbled from his hands as he grabbed on to the table to keep
from falling to the floor.
"Scott!" Sean shouted, reaching for him. Grasping Scott by the arm, he helped
him to his feet. "Are ye okay, lad?"
Scott brought a trembling hand to his forehead, even as he gasped for breath.
"Scott, can ye hear me?" Sean asked. "Are ye okay? Ye've gone white as a ghost."
"I-I'm fine, Sean. I was just caught a little off guard."
"By what?"
"I'm not sure, exactly. I think it may have been some sort of psychic
projection."
"Jeanie perhaps, contacting you telepathically?"
"It felt like Jean, yes. But it wasn't a simple communication. It was more . . .
empathic. More like a projection of emotions. I'm not sure."
"Well, can ye try projecting back to her? Ye two have a mindlink, don't ye?"
Scott shook his head. "She hasn't been maintaining our psychic rapport for a
while now." Nonetheless, he attempted to contact his wife through their now-
defunct mental connection. As expected, there came no reply, and he was as alone
in his mind as he had been in recent days. An icy chill gripped his heart.
"Something's wrong. I need to get home. I need to make sure Jean's okay."
*****
Jubilee threw open the door, bolted down the front steps, and took off across
the lawn at a full run. It was pouring, and in mere moments she was soaked. But
she did not even notice. All she knew was that Jean needed help, and that she
was the only one who could get it for her. She had to hurry. All that blood,
those terrible pains . . . if anything was going to be done for her, it had to
be done soon.
Abruptly, her foot slipped, and she crashed to her knees, mud splattering over
her clothes, her face, and her hair. Ignoring it, Jubilee pushed herself to her
feet, nearly falling again in the process. But then she was upright, and she
forged ahead as fast as her legs would take her.
Still, it did not seem fast enough. She had to go faster, push herself harder.
She willed herself to run more quickly, legs pumping, lungs burning. Soon, she
could see the light of the mansion in the distance. Almost there. Less than a
minute.
As she approached the back patio, she could make out the silhouette of two
figures standing below the awning. She tried to call to them, but her voice was
swallowed by the wind and the rain.
She was so intent on trying to get their attention that she did not notice the
fallen tree branch a few feet ahead of her until it was too late. Her foot
struck the side of the branch, and she tumbled face-first onto the mud-covered
ground, her shin banging into the object hard. She cried out in surprise and
pain, but was rewarded with a mouthful of mud. Spitting it out in disgust, she
tried to raise herself. Her hands kept on slipping, and she was unable to get
sufficient purchase. Even if she could get a decent grip, she no longer felt as
though she had the strength to even stand.
"Help me!" she cried, tears of desperation filling her eyes as she waved toward
the mansion. She could hardly hear her own hoarse shouts above the roaring
winds; whoever was standing on the patio certainly could not.
More than anything, Jubilee just wanted to give up and just lie there. But she
knew that she could not. Jean was counting on her. She could not let Jean down.
But what could she do, tired and weak as she was, sprawled on the muddy ground
in the middle of a downpour? How could she get the attention of those people?
The solution was so painfully obvious, she chided herself for not thinking of it
sooner. She just hoped she had sufficient energy to put her plan into action.
She was barely able to raise her arms in front of her; as it was, her hands did
not end up any higher than her head. Taking a deep breath, she focused all of
her concentration on a single task.
Miraculously, it worked better than she could have hoped. Huge bursts of
fireworks shot forth from her hands, several yards into the sky toward the
mansion. She managed several rounds of plasmoids before her arms sank to the
ground, exhausted. Her face followed suit as she rested her cheek on her arm.
Then all she could do was pray that she had succeeded.
A few moments later, she thought she heard shouts in the near distance. She
somehow managed to will herself to lift her head a moment before she could make
out a couple sprinting toward her. It was not until they were nearly on top of
her that she was able to recognize them: Rogue and Remy. Thank God they had seen
her signal.
"Need help!" Jubilee yelled. "Jean's in trouble!"
It looked as though Rogue was trying to shout something to her, but Jubilee
could not make it out. She thought she saw Remy shake his head and gesture
toward Rogue.
Jubilee was about to try again when she felt Gambit and Rogue each grab an arm
and lift her to her feet, directing her toward the mansion. Too weak to argue,
Jubilee allowed them to lead her to the shelter of the patio. As soon as they
arrived, she sank to the concrete, exhausted and gasping for breath.
"Petite, what's wrong? What de hell you doin' out inna rain?"
Jubilee opened her mouth to speak, but no words came as she struggled to suck
air into her lungs.
"Sugah, yer gonna catch yer death," Rogue chastised. "Remy, c'mon, let's get her
inside."
"No!" Jubilee sputtered, chest still heaving from her exertion. "Help . . . need
help!"
"That's what we're tryin' ta do, Sugah. Now, let's get'cha dried an' warmed--"
"Jean! . . . *She* . . . needs . . . help!"
"Jeanie?" Remy asked. "What's wrong wit her? Where she at?"
"H-house," Jubilee gasped, trying to catch a full breath. "Pain . . . blood . .
. collapse . . . help! . . . She . . . Help her! . . . Please!"
In the meager light of the patio lantern, they could see the fear in Jubilee's
tear-filled eyes.
Remy looked at Rogue, who nodded.
"We'll go help her," Rogue told Jubilee. "You go on inside, find Hank, an' let
him know we're comin'," she told the girl. "C'mon, Remy." Grabbing him under the
arms, Rogue took to the air and toward the house.
"Hurry!" Jubilee called to them, even as her voice was swallowed by the roaring
wind. "Please hurry!"
*****
Seeing the front door open, Rogue flew them right inside and into the living
room. Placing Remy on his feet, Rogue touched down beside him.
"You check the bedroom," she told him. "Ah'll check up here."
Nodding, Remy headed toward the back of the house.
"Jean!" Rogue called, glancing around the living room as she headed into the
dining room. "Jean, can ya hear me? Jean!" Finding both rooms empty, Rogue
walked into the kitchen. She immediately saw Jean propped against the far
counter, chin to her chest.
"Remy!" she shrieked. "She's in here!" She took a flying leap over to Jean's
side. Kneeling, she caught sight of the blood staining Jean's skirt. "Sweet
Jesus! Jean!" She touched her arm, but there was no response. Rogue took her by
both shoulders and gave her a good shake.
Jean stirred, but seemed barely able to lift her head. Her face was white as a
sheet. She blinked, trying to focus on Rogue's face.
"Jeanie, it's Rogue. Can ya hear me, Sugah?"
"Help me," Jean murmured, eyelids fluttering. "Please . . . help. . . ." Her
eyes rolled back, and she drifted unconscious again.
"Find 'er?" Remy asked, hurrying into the kitchen.
"Over here!" Rogue called.
Remy ran up behind her, and gasped. "*Sacre bleu*!"
"Ah found her like this," Rogue explained. "Jesus, there's so much blood. Don't
see a gunshot or stab wound. God, looks like she's hemorrhagin'."
"Ain't no wound," Remy said, pulling off his coat.
Rogue pulled Jean forward, allowing Remy to wrap his coat around her. "If there
ain't no wound, then where's alla this blood comin' from?"
"She wit chile," he said softly, picking up Jean's unmoving form and handing her
to Rogue. "'Least, she was."
Rogue met his eyes then, saw only sadness there. "But--"
"Ain't nothin' more can be done here, chere. Go on," Remy coaxed. "Get her to
the medi-lab, so Henri can help 'er. You'll go faster wit'out Gambit's weight.
Meet you dere. Go on, now."
Swallowing back her own tears, Rogue nodded. A moment later, she took to the
air, cradling Jean close to her as she sped back toward the mansion.
End Chapter 14
*****