Chapter 3: Hurt
Jubilee sat on the edge of his bed next to two large leather saddlebags meant for his bike. From where he stood by the door, he could smell the leather, and knew it was expensive. He'd always wanted a set like them, but hadn't wanted to spend the money on it.
"My god, Jubes," he whispered, awed, as he came forward and felt the leather. "Where did you find these? They're wonderful!"
He looked at her, and the words died on his lips. She wore a pale-blue satin pajama top that buttoned low over her breasts and high over her stomach, and smooth, loose satin pants that hugged her hip. The barest hint of white lace peeked seductively over the top of those pants. He wondered if she knew, and wondered if she realized what the sight of that white lace was doing to his anatomy.
Jubilee knew. She leaned back on his bed, resting on her elbows, swinging her bare feet in the air above the floor. "Look inside," she said, happy that her present for him could bring him such pleasure. The bags and their contents had cost her a fortune; it had taken the proceeds from many of her speaking engagements to pay for them, but his pleasure was worth it. Logan never took his eyes off her as he unzipped the first one. A wool coat made of the lightest, finest Chinese alpaca fleece and lined with the finest raw silk, popped out. Then a leather jacket, made in the same manner as the saddlebags, embossed with the Harley-Davidson logo on his bike. A custom-made helmet came out of the second pocket. Thickly lined and padded, it was painted black, with three silver slashes on either side, looking as though the helmet had been scarred by his claws. He was awestruck, not only by the value and quality of the gifts, but also by the thoughtfulness and care with which she'd chosen them.
"Jubes," he breathed, staring at the helmet, then words failed him. He groped for words, then, failing to find them, he leaned over her where she lay on his bed, and kissed her.
It wasn't the quick peck on the cheek he'd given her before; this was the long, passionate kiss of lovers. She was hesitant at first, but as he pressed his lips against hers, her lips parted the barest bit, and he deepened the kiss.
For long minutes there was no sound. Jubilee closed her eyes, surrendering herself to his kiss. She had wanted this for so long… She gave in for just a moment longer, then broke it off, sliding smoothly across the bed away from him, and stood on the opposite side of the bed, breathing hard.
"Darlin'," he started, only to have her hold up a hand to stop him. Confused, he stopped.
"Logan," she said quietly, "I know you think I'm still a little girl. You think I wasn't serious about what I said that night you took me to that bar. I think you've spent the day reconsidering.
"I love you, Logan. It's not what you think; it's not just childish fancy. It's been ten years since I was here as one of the X-Men, living here and hanging out with you, and I know at times I must have come across to you as an annoying little tagalong."
Logan bit his lip. He had indeed. Not often, but there had been times…
She continued. "There's a lot of difference between fourteen and twenty-four. I grew up real fast after Bastion captured me. I had to. I had to survive. I kept thinking of you, hoping you would come and get me and save me, and yet afraid if you came he would use me to get to you. He interrogated me; he kept asking me where he could find you and the others. I didn't tell him. It cost me." She turned her wrists upward, and he saw, under the tan, the white scar lines of manacles clamped tight around her wrists. When he looked back up, her eyes were dark and haunted by her memories of pain. He wanted to take her in his arms, apologize for not being there, for what she had to endure in that hell...but she moved away from him when he tried to step toward her.
"I don't want you to feel like I'm making you do anything," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I want you to decide on your own that you love me. Because you do, Logan. Why else would you have written me all those long, gossipy Emails while I was in college? And the way you kept coming up to see me, annoying Frosty…Ms. Frost," she amended. "And the look on your face when you saw me come in this afternoon. And yes," she flicked her glance downwards to his groin and smiled a bit, "I saw your instincts taking over. It was rather hard not to. And I know Jean talked to you. Don't say anything now, Logan. Think about it." She kissed him, surprised that she no longer had to tiptoe; she and he were almost of a height now. Then she opened his door and slipped out.
Logan sat on the bed, buried his face in his hands, and groaned. He felt like a bastard. She really did love him. She had told him, once, long ago when he'd first met her, that she wouldn't allow herself to love anyone again, because everyone she loved died. First her parents, then her foster parents. But she'd eventually opened her heart again, to him. Very few of the others saw her insecurity, her uncertainty, her moody, melancholy side. Jean, Storm, and he were the closest friends she had, the only ones she'd allow herself to open up to. He'd seen all her moods; happy, sad, afraid, insecure, in pain…she'd opened herself to him completely.
And he'd done the same. She'd seen him at his best and at his worst. The berserker rage, the rage that even scared Storm, hadn't fazed her. She'd never been afraid of him, in whatever mood he was in. When he went on one of his long trips, she would be there waiting for him when he got back. She had rescued him in Australia, when the Reavers had crucified him, and used every ounce of skill and ingenuity she had to keep him safe and hidden until he'd healed.
He stared at the saddlebags and jacket, touched them, and tried them on. They both fit perfectly. The wool would keep him warm in the cold weather and snows of Canada, and the jacket would look good and keep him warm when he went bar hopping late at night. He sat looking at the helmet she had designed and had made just for him, and just stayed numb for a while. Then he set all the gifts aside, and turned out the light, undressing in the dark and lying there for a long while, thinking. He drifted off into a light sleep.
Jubilee slipped into bed and lay for a while, thinking. The mention of Bastion had brought up memories she'd tried her hardest to forget, and a few of the bitter tears that fell to her old pillow were for the pain she remembered. The rest of the tears were for Logan.
How could he even still think it was just childish fancy? She hadn't been a child for a long time. The mess with Bastion had forced her to grow up, and after that, nothing had been the same anymore. Her rollerblades had gone into her closet. She'd never taken them out again. The mallrat she'd been had been replaced by a serious, thoughtful young woman.
She had surprised herself by choosing a career as a physicist; she'd never had especially good grades in school. Oh, they were good enough, good, but not outstanding. But physics intrigued her, since she'd discovered that was how her power operated. Those little fireworks that she produced were made between the interaction of atoms and molecules in different quantities, and she had striven to understand the way they worked, only to find that there was not much out there that would explain how her power worked, or why it worked. So she'd taken every related course in college, studied extensively, and began to write her own papers on atomic and subatomic particle theory based on how she'd discovered her powers worked. She'd been praised, lauded, and criticized for her 'revolutionary new approach' to physics, and the notice she had received catapulted her quickly to the top of her profession.
She had gotten her life back together, and more. Now there was just one more loose end to tie up; Logan. She drifted off into a troubled sleep, exhausted by the day's activities and suffering from jet lag.
Bastion stood over her, a sneer of hatred twisting his face into a grotesque mask. "Tell me what I want to know, freak," he snarled. She was crouching on the floor in front of him, bound and helpless, screaming as he jabbed an electrical prod at her body and limbs. Again, and again, and again. Pain wracked her body, and she begged him to stop, told him she couldn't tell him what he wanted to know because she didn't know, but he knew she was lying, and he kept shocking her over and over.
She passed out. He dashed a bucketful of cold water on her, bringing her back to agonizing consciousness. "Freak," he snarled at her, and the torture began again. As her screams filled her ears, some dazed, detached part of her mind remembered someone who could help her, who could save her. "Logan!" she screamed, hardly aware of what she was saying, delirious with agony. "Logan, help me, oh God, where are you, I need you, save me, please!" But he didn't come, even though he'd always been there before. He simply wasn't here now, and she was beginning to doubt she would ever see him again. Still, she clung to hope as tightly as she clung to her sanity and the tiny piece of knowledge that he wanted, that she knew she couldn't give him. "Logan, help me, please!" but he wasn't there, no one was there, and she was alone, left to bear the burden of her pain alone. "Logan, please…"
Logan sat up in bed. Something had woken him, some tiny sound, he wasn't sure from where. He got out of bed, went to the door, silently opened it, and looked out. He was about to close the door and go back to bed when a whisper of sound reached his sensitive ears…a low moan, as of someone in pain. He tracked the sound down to a door halfway down the corridor; Jubilee's door. He opened the door.
Jubilee lay on the sheets, the comforter having slipped to the floor as she convulsed. He sucked in a breath as he studied her straining body, every muscle tight and locked. She trembled with the strain; he knew she was going to be sore the next day.
A hissing moan escaped her gritted teeth, and she gave a gasp. Except for those soft sounds, she was eerily silent, as if afraid to wake anyone. Some part of her must know she was dreaming. As he paused at the door, uncertain whether he should leave, or stay with her, he heard her moan again, and her lips moved. "Logan," she whispered, "Please, oh please save me…Bastion…"
He closed her door and went to her bed, stopping beside her. "Jubilee," he said quietly. "Jubilee, wake up." She flinched with each repetition of her name. He reached out, touched her shoulder.
She went wild on the bed, screaming aloud now. "NO STOP IT PLEASE DON'T TOUCH ME OH GOD I HURT DON'T HURT ME ANYMORE PLEASE DON'T HURT ME--" Her fists flailed, striking his cheek, his eye, his arm, as she writhed against him, screaming at the top of her lungs. Tears streamed down her cheeks from her screwed shut eyes.
Logan grabbed her fists as she struck blindly, cutting her knuckles open on the headboard of the bed. "Jubes, it's me!" he cried into her ear, sitting on the edge of the bed and capturing her writhing body against his. "Jubilee, wake up!" She continued to writhe, screaming in anguish. He continued to clutch her tightly as she slid from the bed, her bare feet drumming against the floor.
A door slammed somewhere down the hall, and seconds later Jubilee's door flew open. Logan saw Jean silhouetted against the bright hall light for a moment before she ran in, falling to her knees beside the tow. "What happened?" she asked Logan tersely.
"I don't know," he said desperately, still keeping a tight hold on Jubilee's wrists. "I heard a noise an' came ta fin' out what it was. I foun' her on the bed havin' a nightmare. I tried ta wake her. As soon's I touched her she went wild. I hadda grab her ta keep her from hurtin' herself."
Jean placed a hand on Jubilee's temple. Jubilee, wake up. You're safe, no one's going to hurt you now. Bastion's gone. Wake up, Jubilee.
Jubilee's eyes snapped open, and she took a great gasp of air, as though she'd been suffocating. Logan cradled her gently against him, whispering soft nothings in her ear as she huddled against his chest and cried stormily. Jean sat back on her heels, looking shaken. "It was Bastion. She was having nightmares again."
"Again? This happened before?"
Jean nodded, pushing her tangled hair back off her forehead. "She wrote me Emails saying she was still having nightmares. She found out that if she was overtired or had done something strenuous that day, she'd have nightmares. She even went so far as to sleep with a wad of cloth in her mouth sometimes to keep anyone else in the hotel from hearing her scream." Jean looked anguished. "I told her to come home, that Charles and I could help her through them, but she stayed away. She said she had to get through this herself. She seemed like she was getting better; but something must have triggered the memories today and she slipped back into the nightmares."
Logan cradled Jubilee's shaking body to him, stroking her hair. Why had she not told him? Some of the Emails she'd sent him had seemed a little odd, but he'd chalked that down to jet lag, or to overwork. He didn't know about these. "Jubilee. Jubes," he said, sliding into the pet name he had for her, "why didn't you tell me?"
"Because it would have worried you," came the sobbed reply, and Jubilee looked up at him, her face streaked with tears. "You were feeling guilty enough already, about not being there. I didn't want you to know what I went through, too."
He held her tight to him as she started to cry again, rocking her back and forth. Guilt overwhelmed him. His talk with her had triggered the memories again; it was his fault they had reawakened.
Will you stay with her? Jean said to him telepathically.
He nodded, and she pushed herself off her knees, pulling her nightrobe tight around her. Only then did Logan look up. Bobby, Scott, Remy, Betsy, Storm, and Rogue stood in the doorway, blinking and looking startled. Jean waved them all away from the door, and closed it firmly, leaving Logan and Jubilee alone in her room. Logan hummed tunelessly for a long time, holding her and rocking her back and forth, until her sobs quieted. When he looked down again, she was asleep.
He got to his feet with little difficulty, cradling her in his arms, and laid her back down on the bed. He pulled the sheets back over her, tugged the comforter back over her huddled body, and remade the bed around her. He was about to leave her room when she stirred. When he turned around her haunted sapphire eyes were staring directly at him. "Stay," she whimpered. "Logan, stay with me, please. The nightmares don't come when you're with me."
He sat back down on the floor beside her bed, and she inched herself close to him to grasp his hand. He got up on the bed when he realized how uncomfortable she was, and stretched out beside her. She rolled over until her back was pressed up against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. When he looked next, she was soundly asleep. He stayed awake a long time, staring across the room out the window where a full moon silvered the sill. She hadn't told him because she hadn't wanted him to know. She didn't want him to know how she'd been hurt, how she'd called for him, cried for him, begged for him to help her, to save her.
He wondered if Xavier ever regretted his decision to send Jubilee off to the Massachusetts Academy. He sure had. Logan had opposed it all from the start, raging at Xavier when Chuck had insisted. But for her sake he'd pretended to agree, pointing out how much better it would be for her to be able to hang with kids her own age. For a while it had seemed like she was adjusting, and he had wondered if Chuck had made the right decision after all. Then came the events surrounding Operation: Zero Tolerance. Logan had thought his heart was going to stop when he found out Jubilee had been a prisoner of that madman named Bastion. All the times he'd ever really needed a helping hand she'd been there, giving him a hand when he needed it. And the one time she needed him, really needed him, he hadn't been there.
She whimpered in her sleep, and he hugged her a little tighter. "Sssh. I'm here, darlin. I ain't never goin' nowhere again when ya need me." She sighed, relaxed, and slipped a little deeper into slumber. He finally slipped into an exhausted, restless sleep, and didn't wake until morning.