Title: A Friend in Need II: Sweet Child of Mine 15/22
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 15
The cab had barely come to a standstill when Scott tossed some money at the
driver, threw the door open, and jumped out into the rainy night. During the
long car ride that had comprised the last leg of his journey, he had been
practically crawling the walls in his eagerness to get home. His trip had been
one disaster after another. First, there were the endless delays at the airport
in Boston. Then, after his flight was finally able to depart, the storms in New
York prevented them from landing. They circled the airport for over an hour,
waiting to land. And when they finally did, it was another hour waiting in line
with the other planes until they could taxi up to a gate since everything was so
backed up. Thank God all he had was one carry-on bag; he had little faith that
his luggage would have arrived with him otherwise. Of course, the way his luck
was going, it was a good half hour until he was able to grab a cab. It would
have been quicker to drive back to New York from Massachusetts. Hell, it
probably would have been quicker to walk.
He had tried calling home before leaving for the airport in Boston, but
something was wrong with the lines. The weather was probably affecting them. He
had been meaning to upgrade them, to utilize some of the Shi'ar technology they
used in the mansion for the house, but he had never gotten around to it.
Something else to add to his 'to do' list. He had then tried calling the
mansion, intent on having someone there go check on Jean and Jubilee, to make
sure everything was all right. There had been no answer, so he simply left a
message. Unusual that no one seemed to be home, but stranger things had
happened. He had tried again while waiting for the boarding announcement in
Boston, but still the phone went unanswered. By the time he had finally arrived
in New York, he was hell-bent on just getting home, so he had not bothered to
try to call.
Now, as he approached the house, Scott felt as though his stomach were one
enormous knot. He prayed that all his worry had just been for naught. As he
reached to put his key in the lock, the door creaked open. A chill went down his
spine, and he was immediately on alert. Why was the door not locked, let alone
left open? Something must be wrong. He thought back to the psychic projection he
had received earlier that afternoon, and the knot in his stomach tightened.
Quietly, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside. He
scanned the living room, but found nothing amiss. He stopped a moment to listen,
but heard nothing, save for the sound of the rain outside and his own breathing.
He softly shut the door and walked through the living room, toward the back of
the house. It seemed as though no one was home.
"Jean!" he called. "Jubilee! Anybody here?"
Silence answered him.
*They probably got a little spooked by the rain storm, and decided to go wait it
out in the mansion,* he thought as he headed through the dark hallway toward the
bedroom. *In their haste, they probably didn't pull the door shut all the way.*
As he entered the bedroom, Scott flicked on the light switch. Nothing happened.
He shut the switch on and off a few times, but still no light. Power must be
down.
*Definitely have to update a few things around here,* he told himself.
Dropping his bag on the bench at the foot of the bed, he pulled off his jacket
and hung it on the back of a chair to dry. Then he walked to the nightstand, and
started rummaging through the drawer for a flashlight. As he flicked it on, he
noticed that the bed covers were rumpled. That struck him as strange. It was
unlike Jean to leave the bed unmade. When he turned away from the bed, something
caught his eye on the carpeting. There was some sort of stain. Bending down, he
focused the flashlight's beam on the small spots. They were dark. Red. Like
blood.
The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he moved the flashlight along the
floor toward the door. There were more spots, scattered several feet apart,
forming a trail. His mouth suddenly dry, Scott swallowed, trying to will his
heart to slow down. Rising, he followed the stains out of the bedroom and into
the hallway. They were heading toward the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and walked inside. The trail led
to the table, where a larger spot, the size of a saucer, stained the linoleum
behind one of the chairs. He moved the flashlight around the room, trying to
gleam as much information as he could. It did not take him long to find it. A
thin smear of blood about a yard away, as though someone had dragged her body
through it, leading back toward the counter, where there was a veritable puddle
of the crimson liquid. Jesus Christ, that was *a lot* of blood.
The sudden memory of Jubilee's nightmare came to his mind, and a shiver ran down
his spine. Fear gripped his heart. He found it difficult to draw a full breath.
God, he did not even know if it was Jean or Jubilee who was hurt. Did it really
matter? Either case was a realization with which he did not want to have to
deal. But he had to. He had to find them, see if he could help them.
Steeling his nerve, Scott turned, bolted out of the kitchen, and sprinted out of
the house, toward the mansion, intent on doing whatever he could to ensure the
safety of the two most important women in his life.
*****
The sound of shouting awoke Jubilee from a fitful sleep. Opening her eyes, she
realized that she was curled next to Rogue on a bench, her cheek resting on the
other woman's lap, a blanket covering her. Yawning, she raised herself onto an
elbow and looked across the room as Scott entered, out of breath. He was not
even wearing a coat, and his hair and clothes were soaked from the rain.
He quickly scanned the room, and when he caught sight of her, she could see the
relief fill his face. "Jubilee!" he called, hurrying toward her. He dropped down
to his knees in front of the bench.
"Scott," she breathed, reaching to embrace him. Now that he was here, everything
was going to be okay. Scott would take charge. He would make everything right
again.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, holding her tight. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
"I'm fine," she replied. "It's Jean. . . ."
She felt him tense beneath her. He pulled back, took her by the shoulders.
"Where is Jean? What happened? Is she all right?"
Jubilee bit her bottom lip, even as she felt the stinging prickle in her eyes.
Blinking, she shook her head. "I . . . she . . . oh, God, Scott, I'm so sorry. .
. ." She turned her head away, unable to look him in the face.
"Jubilee," he said sternly, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look
at him. "Where is she? What's happened?"
"She. . . . " Unable to speak, Jubilee began to sob, tears streaming down her
cheeks and onto Scott's hands.
"She's in the medi-lab, Scott," Rogue said gently. "Ororo's with her."
Scott looked up at Rogue. "Then she's all right?"
Rogue opened her mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. She felt her own
eyes brimming with tears. "Ah think Hank should be the one. . . ."
Without another word, Scott let go of Jubilee and was on his feet, jogging
toward the medi-lab, his wife, and the answers he sought.
As he left, Jubilee started to shake, sobs wracking her body.
"Shh," Rogue soothed, taking her into her arms.
Jubilee immediately grabbed onto her waist, burying her face against Rogue'
stomach.
"Shh," Rogue whispered, stroking the girl's head with a gloved hand. "It's okay,
Sugah. It's gonna be okay." Blinking back her own tears, she glanced down the
hallway, wondering how Scott was going to react.
*****
At the sound of running footsteps, Hank looked up from his desk. He was sitting
in his office, a small room that served as an antechamber to the medi-lab. At
the sound of the familiar shout, he sighed. The moment he had been dreading
since Rogue had brought Jean to him hours earlier was about to occur. It was
times like these that he hated being a doctor.
He leapt from his perch on a stool and bounded toward the door to intercept
Scott. It would be best if he spoke to him first, before he saw Jean.
A moment later, Scott burst into the room, obviously upset. "Hank!" he called,
seeing the Beast waiting for him. "Where is Jean? I have to see her--"
"Take it easy, Scott," Hank said, placing a staying hand on his friend's arm.
"She's resting right now. Ororo's with her."
"What happened, Hank? I came home and found a trail of blood leading into the
kitchen. There was so much blood." Scott paused, trying to catch his breath.
"How is she? Is she going to be okay?"
"She's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances." Henry hated
the way those words sounded, so cold and unsympathetic.
Scott's brow furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about, Hank? Why won't
someone give me a straight answer? Why won't someone tell me what's wrong with
my wife?"
"Scotty, perhaps it would be best if you sat down," Hank suggested, gesturing
toward a chair.
"I don't want to sit down," Scott snapped. "Dammit, Hank, just tell me what
happened to Jean."
Hank looked at Scott, trying to summon his own courage. He knew what he was
about to say was going to do this man, one of his oldest and dearest friends.
And he hated like hell to be the one who had to tell him. But he also knew it
would be best coming from him. "Scott, I'm afraid that Jeanie, she . . . she
lost the baby."
Hank watched as Scott's eyebrows rose above the rim of his glasses and his face
went a shade lighter. He opened his mouth to speak, his lips moved, but no words
came out. Scott shook his head, as though to clear it. "Wh-what did you say?"
"Jeanie lost the baby. I'm afraid that by the time they got her to me, there was
nothing to be done, no way to stop it. She miscarried. I'm so sorry, Scott,"
Hank said, once more grasping Scott's arm. "I know this will offer little
comfort right now, but you should know that this is often nature's way of
handling its own mistakes. . . ."
Scott still said nothing, just continued to shake his head. Hank read his
reaction as shock. He felt the need to speak, to fill the silence.
"Luckily, there was no permanent damage," he went on. "In a few months, after
she's had time to recover, there's no reason you can't try again."
"A . . . miscarriage. . . ?" Scott asked, voice wavering. He was trembling.
"Yes," Hank replied softly, tenderly. "I'm sorry, Scotty. So very sorry."
Scott looked into Hank's face, saw the sympathy in his sad eyes. He swallowed
back the taste of bile in the back of his throat. "Are you saying Jean . . . she
was pregnant?"
Hank's eyes widened in confusion. Realization hit him a moment later. Scott was
not reacting merely to the tragedy of losing an unborn child. He was responding
both to the news that his wife had been carrying his child, and that that child
no longer existed. No wonder Scott was in such a state of shock.
"You . . . you didn't know she was pregnant?" Hank asked.
Scott shook his head. "I . . . I had no idea."
"Oh my stars. . . ." Hank closed his eyes in a slow blink. He had been wondering
why Scott had decided to go spend a week at the school in Massachusetts at a
time when he would have expected he and Jean to be celebrating. It had been
clear that there was some tension between them, but it had never even occurred
to Hank that Scott was unaware that Jean was expecting. "Scott, I-I thought you
knew. . . . Jeanie was about two months along."
Scott was still shaking his head, even as the rest of his body began to tremble.
"I-I didn't know. . . ." he murmured. "She never told me. . . ." He felt himself
waiver.
"Scott, let's go sit down," Hank said, placing a hand on his shoulder and
guiding him to a nearby chair.
Scott wordlessly collapsed into it, as though his body no longer had the
strength to hold him up. He slowly shook his head in disbelief. "I-I didn't
know," he whispered, over and over. "I didn't know. . . ." As his words faded
away, he bowed his head, as though in defeat.
Hank opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. After all, what
was there to say? What meager words could he offer that would bring comfort to
his friend at such a difficult time?
And so he said nothing. Instead, he gently clasped Scott's shoulder in a silent
gesture of support, as his friend mourned for the unborn child he would never
know.
End Chapter 15
*****
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 15
The cab had barely come to a standstill when Scott tossed some money at the
driver, threw the door open, and jumped out into the rainy night. During the
long car ride that had comprised the last leg of his journey, he had been
practically crawling the walls in his eagerness to get home. His trip had been
one disaster after another. First, there were the endless delays at the airport
in Boston. Then, after his flight was finally able to depart, the storms in New
York prevented them from landing. They circled the airport for over an hour,
waiting to land. And when they finally did, it was another hour waiting in line
with the other planes until they could taxi up to a gate since everything was so
backed up. Thank God all he had was one carry-on bag; he had little faith that
his luggage would have arrived with him otherwise. Of course, the way his luck
was going, it was a good half hour until he was able to grab a cab. It would
have been quicker to drive back to New York from Massachusetts. Hell, it
probably would have been quicker to walk.
He had tried calling home before leaving for the airport in Boston, but
something was wrong with the lines. The weather was probably affecting them. He
had been meaning to upgrade them, to utilize some of the Shi'ar technology they
used in the mansion for the house, but he had never gotten around to it.
Something else to add to his 'to do' list. He had then tried calling the
mansion, intent on having someone there go check on Jean and Jubilee, to make
sure everything was all right. There had been no answer, so he simply left a
message. Unusual that no one seemed to be home, but stranger things had
happened. He had tried again while waiting for the boarding announcement in
Boston, but still the phone went unanswered. By the time he had finally arrived
in New York, he was hell-bent on just getting home, so he had not bothered to
try to call.
Now, as he approached the house, Scott felt as though his stomach were one
enormous knot. He prayed that all his worry had just been for naught. As he
reached to put his key in the lock, the door creaked open. A chill went down his
spine, and he was immediately on alert. Why was the door not locked, let alone
left open? Something must be wrong. He thought back to the psychic projection he
had received earlier that afternoon, and the knot in his stomach tightened.
Quietly, he pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped inside. He
scanned the living room, but found nothing amiss. He stopped a moment to listen,
but heard nothing, save for the sound of the rain outside and his own breathing.
He softly shut the door and walked through the living room, toward the back of
the house. It seemed as though no one was home.
"Jean!" he called. "Jubilee! Anybody here?"
Silence answered him.
*They probably got a little spooked by the rain storm, and decided to go wait it
out in the mansion,* he thought as he headed through the dark hallway toward the
bedroom. *In their haste, they probably didn't pull the door shut all the way.*
As he entered the bedroom, Scott flicked on the light switch. Nothing happened.
He shut the switch on and off a few times, but still no light. Power must be
down.
*Definitely have to update a few things around here,* he told himself.
Dropping his bag on the bench at the foot of the bed, he pulled off his jacket
and hung it on the back of a chair to dry. Then he walked to the nightstand, and
started rummaging through the drawer for a flashlight. As he flicked it on, he
noticed that the bed covers were rumpled. That struck him as strange. It was
unlike Jean to leave the bed unmade. When he turned away from the bed, something
caught his eye on the carpeting. There was some sort of stain. Bending down, he
focused the flashlight's beam on the small spots. They were dark. Red. Like
blood.
The hair stood up on the back of his neck as he moved the flashlight along the
floor toward the door. There were more spots, scattered several feet apart,
forming a trail. His mouth suddenly dry, Scott swallowed, trying to will his
heart to slow down. Rising, he followed the stains out of the bedroom and into
the hallway. They were heading toward the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and walked inside. The trail led
to the table, where a larger spot, the size of a saucer, stained the linoleum
behind one of the chairs. He moved the flashlight around the room, trying to
gleam as much information as he could. It did not take him long to find it. A
thin smear of blood about a yard away, as though someone had dragged her body
through it, leading back toward the counter, where there was a veritable puddle
of the crimson liquid. Jesus Christ, that was *a lot* of blood.
The sudden memory of Jubilee's nightmare came to his mind, and a shiver ran down
his spine. Fear gripped his heart. He found it difficult to draw a full breath.
God, he did not even know if it was Jean or Jubilee who was hurt. Did it really
matter? Either case was a realization with which he did not want to have to
deal. But he had to. He had to find them, see if he could help them.
Steeling his nerve, Scott turned, bolted out of the kitchen, and sprinted out of
the house, toward the mansion, intent on doing whatever he could to ensure the
safety of the two most important women in his life.
*****
The sound of shouting awoke Jubilee from a fitful sleep. Opening her eyes, she
realized that she was curled next to Rogue on a bench, her cheek resting on the
other woman's lap, a blanket covering her. Yawning, she raised herself onto an
elbow and looked across the room as Scott entered, out of breath. He was not
even wearing a coat, and his hair and clothes were soaked from the rain.
He quickly scanned the room, and when he caught sight of her, she could see the
relief fill his face. "Jubilee!" he called, hurrying toward her. He dropped down
to his knees in front of the bench.
"Scott," she breathed, reaching to embrace him. Now that he was here, everything
was going to be okay. Scott would take charge. He would make everything right
again.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, holding her tight. "Are you hurt? What happened?"
"I'm fine," she replied. "It's Jean. . . ."
She felt him tense beneath her. He pulled back, took her by the shoulders.
"Where is Jean? What happened? Is she all right?"
Jubilee bit her bottom lip, even as she felt the stinging prickle in her eyes.
Blinking, she shook her head. "I . . . she . . . oh, God, Scott, I'm so sorry. .
. ." She turned her head away, unable to look him in the face.
"Jubilee," he said sternly, taking her face in his hands and forcing her to look
at him. "Where is she? What's happened?"
"She. . . . " Unable to speak, Jubilee began to sob, tears streaming down her
cheeks and onto Scott's hands.
"She's in the medi-lab, Scott," Rogue said gently. "Ororo's with her."
Scott looked up at Rogue. "Then she's all right?"
Rogue opened her mouth to reply, but then thought better of it. She felt her own
eyes brimming with tears. "Ah think Hank should be the one. . . ."
Without another word, Scott let go of Jubilee and was on his feet, jogging
toward the medi-lab, his wife, and the answers he sought.
As he left, Jubilee started to shake, sobs wracking her body.
"Shh," Rogue soothed, taking her into her arms.
Jubilee immediately grabbed onto her waist, burying her face against Rogue'
stomach.
"Shh," Rogue whispered, stroking the girl's head with a gloved hand. "It's okay,
Sugah. It's gonna be okay." Blinking back her own tears, she glanced down the
hallway, wondering how Scott was going to react.
*****
At the sound of running footsteps, Hank looked up from his desk. He was sitting
in his office, a small room that served as an antechamber to the medi-lab. At
the sound of the familiar shout, he sighed. The moment he had been dreading
since Rogue had brought Jean to him hours earlier was about to occur. It was
times like these that he hated being a doctor.
He leapt from his perch on a stool and bounded toward the door to intercept
Scott. It would be best if he spoke to him first, before he saw Jean.
A moment later, Scott burst into the room, obviously upset. "Hank!" he called,
seeing the Beast waiting for him. "Where is Jean? I have to see her--"
"Take it easy, Scott," Hank said, placing a staying hand on his friend's arm.
"She's resting right now. Ororo's with her."
"What happened, Hank? I came home and found a trail of blood leading into the
kitchen. There was so much blood." Scott paused, trying to catch his breath.
"How is she? Is she going to be okay?"
"She's doing as well as can be expected under the circumstances." Henry hated
the way those words sounded, so cold and unsympathetic.
Scott's brow furrowed. "What the hell are you talking about, Hank? Why won't
someone give me a straight answer? Why won't someone tell me what's wrong with
my wife?"
"Scotty, perhaps it would be best if you sat down," Hank suggested, gesturing
toward a chair.
"I don't want to sit down," Scott snapped. "Dammit, Hank, just tell me what
happened to Jean."
Hank looked at Scott, trying to summon his own courage. He knew what he was
about to say was going to do this man, one of his oldest and dearest friends.
And he hated like hell to be the one who had to tell him. But he also knew it
would be best coming from him. "Scott, I'm afraid that Jeanie, she . . . she
lost the baby."
Hank watched as Scott's eyebrows rose above the rim of his glasses and his face
went a shade lighter. He opened his mouth to speak, his lips moved, but no words
came out. Scott shook his head, as though to clear it. "Wh-what did you say?"
"Jeanie lost the baby. I'm afraid that by the time they got her to me, there was
nothing to be done, no way to stop it. She miscarried. I'm so sorry, Scott,"
Hank said, once more grasping Scott's arm. "I know this will offer little
comfort right now, but you should know that this is often nature's way of
handling its own mistakes. . . ."
Scott still said nothing, just continued to shake his head. Hank read his
reaction as shock. He felt the need to speak, to fill the silence.
"Luckily, there was no permanent damage," he went on. "In a few months, after
she's had time to recover, there's no reason you can't try again."
"A . . . miscarriage. . . ?" Scott asked, voice wavering. He was trembling.
"Yes," Hank replied softly, tenderly. "I'm sorry, Scotty. So very sorry."
Scott looked into Hank's face, saw the sympathy in his sad eyes. He swallowed
back the taste of bile in the back of his throat. "Are you saying Jean . . . she
was pregnant?"
Hank's eyes widened in confusion. Realization hit him a moment later. Scott was
not reacting merely to the tragedy of losing an unborn child. He was responding
both to the news that his wife had been carrying his child, and that that child
no longer existed. No wonder Scott was in such a state of shock.
"You . . . you didn't know she was pregnant?" Hank asked.
Scott shook his head. "I . . . I had no idea."
"Oh my stars. . . ." Hank closed his eyes in a slow blink. He had been wondering
why Scott had decided to go spend a week at the school in Massachusetts at a
time when he would have expected he and Jean to be celebrating. It had been
clear that there was some tension between them, but it had never even occurred
to Hank that Scott was unaware that Jean was expecting. "Scott, I-I thought you
knew. . . . Jeanie was about two months along."
Scott was still shaking his head, even as the rest of his body began to tremble.
"I-I didn't know. . . ." he murmured. "She never told me. . . ." He felt himself
waiver.
"Scott, let's go sit down," Hank said, placing a hand on his shoulder and
guiding him to a nearby chair.
Scott wordlessly collapsed into it, as though his body no longer had the
strength to hold him up. He slowly shook his head in disbelief. "I-I didn't
know," he whispered, over and over. "I didn't know. . . ." As his words faded
away, he bowed his head, as though in defeat.
Hank opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. After all, what
was there to say? What meager words could he offer that would bring comfort to
his friend at such a difficult time?
And so he said nothing. Instead, he gently clasped Scott's shoulder in a silent
gesture of support, as his friend mourned for the unborn child he would never
know.
End Chapter 15
*****