Second Chances

Chapter 9

They left the bar not long after the bartender told them Rev. Martin had died. Both were badly shaken. Logan walked back to the hotel holding Jubilee's hand, not paying attention to his surroundings. He couldn't understand what happened tonight. The man hadn't smelled of duplicity. He would stake his life on that. When he said that they were married in the eyes of God, he was absolutely not lying. That's not something anyone could hide from his nose. Why the elaborate ruse? Why did someone want them to think they were married? He worked it over in his mind repeatedly. Nothing about this made any kind of sense.

The scent of Jubilee's tears finally broke into his thoughts. He looked over to find tears streaming down her face in an unbroken line. He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her into a shadowy, recessed doorway. Pulling her close, he just held her and stroked her hair. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make her feel better. Jubilee really didn't want much in life. She wanted him for her husband, to give him children, and to fight as an X-Man. Five months ago, all that was taken from her. Tonight, a priest had given her hope that she could still have him as her husband and now, that too had been cruelly ripped away from her. No, nothing he could say would make her feel better. All he could do was be there for her, and love her.

He held her, stroking her back and hair, until her sobs subsided. She stepped back out his arms and wiped her face with shaking hands.

"I'm sorry," she sniffed. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you."

"Ya don't have anythin' ta be sorry fer, darlin'." he told her. "Yer dreams were taken away from ya and yer life has gone outta yer control. Ya have every right ta be upset."

She stepped back into his arms and laid her head on his shoulder. She wasn't crying anymore. He could still smell her sadness and grief but an undertone of anger was coloring her scent now.

"Why are we being picked on, Logan?" Her voice was fairly calm.

"I don' know darlin'," he said, kissing the top of her head. "I can tell ya one thing. That old priest wasn't lyin'. I woulda smelled it."

She looked into his eyes, confused.

"I think we need ta know more about this Bishop Martin. Let's go home tomorrow and see what we can find out about him. He may still be alive."

"Ya think so?" Hope was growing in her eyes.

"Not like we ain't seen it before," he shrugged. "Most of us have been dead at one time or another."

"And we usually come back," she mused.

"Or replaced by a War Skrull."

She frowned fiercely at him. "Don't even joke about that."

He laughed and hugged her tighter. "Wasn't a Skrull," he told her. "He didn't have the stink."

"Whew," she sighed in relief. "I don't think I could deal with them right now."

"Let's go back to the hotel and enjoy one last night in luxury at Cyke's expense," he suggested.

Her eyes twinkled at him. "We haven't tried the bathtub yet," she said saucily.

"Are ya sure, darlin'?" he asked. "I'll understand if ya ain't in the mood."

She leaned in and placed feather light kisses on each of his eyelids before meeting his lips in a fiery kiss that left him no doubt as to what her intentions were. Her lips brushed his ear and a shiver a heat shot to his groin.

"I'm always in the mood for you," she whispered into his ear. She nipped his ear lobe and he moaned.

"Let's go," he begged, his breath coming in short gasps. God, he loved her. All she needed to do was look at him and he got hard. Her lips were on his neck now, biting and kissing. Shit, if she didn't stop soon, he'd nail her in the doorway. His hand floated down to her leg. He traced the inside of her thigh and wandered up. His fingers brushed against her damp curls.

"Ya lied ta me," he growled. His fingertips found the center of her desire and began a slow, maddening rhythm.

"I didn't." she gasped as she undulated against his hand. "They're in my purse."

"When?" he murmured as his mouth lowered to the top of her breasts, his finger slipping inside her.

"Ugh," she grunted. The finger was joined by a second and he began a slow, mind blowing rhythm. "Can we ... Oh God! ... not talk about ... jeez Wolvie!"

He lifted her leg to widen his access, pressing her against the wall of the alcove. "Tell me," he ordered. His thumb brushed across her heated flesh. She moaned as her body convulsed. He knew she was close. His hand stopped moving.

She mewled in protest and writhed against him. "Please!" she gasped.

"Tell me what I wanna know." His thumb flicked against her once and only once. "When?"

She couldn't move. He had her trapped against the wall as his hand played her body. He kept her right at the edge but wouldn't let her fall to completion. She was in agony. "Bar," she gasped, "before the toast. Please Logan, finish it!"

"Ya won't do it again?" he asked as his thumb circled but didn't touch her where she needed it most.

"I promise," she sobbed, desperate for him to continue his maddening assault. He began the rhythm again and shortly, her body spasmed around his fingers, his mouth swallowing her keening cries of pleasure.

He removed his hand and let her sag against him, her knees trembling and her breath coming in short panting gasps. He held her until she stopped shaking.

"That was a dirty trick," she pouted when she could stand on her own.

"I mean it, Jubes," he told her. "I don't like ya goin' out in public without yer panties. There're too many mutts out there that'll think they hit the jackpot if they found ya without 'em. Panties'll give ya time ta paff 'em and get away."

"You're not very confident in my ability to protect myself," she stated angrily.

"I know ya can protect yerself," he said as he pulled her from the doorway and started back to the hotel. "I just want ta give ya time ta castrate the bastard."

"C'mon Logan," she scoffed, "how likely is that to happen?"

"One woman in four is raped in her lifetime, Jubilee," he told her seriously. "Like I said before; shit happens ta us."

She sighed in defeat. She knew she wouldn't win this one. "Alright, Logan. You win. I'll wear proper undergarments from now on but what I consider proper, not you."

"Yer gonna keep 'em on, right?"

"I'll keep them on, but if you take 'em off, they stay off." she countered.

"Well, it ain't like we'll get ta do anythin' like this again," he told her. "Blue's takin' ya off the pill so we hafta use more inconvenient birth control."

"I know." she sighed in disappointment. "I hope this works. The first test went pretty well. The rat got your healing factor."

"It also got my claws," he told her. "I don't want ya ta hafta deal with 'em."

"Oh, I don't know," she said as the doorman let them into the lobby, "I think they're kinda sexy."

"Ya like anythin' long and hard," he murmured into her ear.

Jubilee felt herself blush from the top of her head to her toes. She loved when he talked dirty but he chose some of the most inopportune moments to do so. As suggestive remarks go, that one was very tame. He had whispered an incredibly graphic suggestion in her ear at dinner two weeks ago that made her loose her grip on her knife while she was cutting a smoked sausage. The knife had flown out of her hand, landing neatly on Remy's plate. He looked up to see embarrassed arousal on her face and smug satisfaction on Logan's. Remy immediately knew what had happened and the remainder of the dinner conversation consisted of Logan and Remy waxing poetic about the benefits of sausages and hot dogs. Jubilee still couldn't look Remy in the eye without blushing.

The remainder of the weekend consisted of sex, sleeping and room service. They were finally able to do what Logan had been trying to do all weekend; break the bed. It had been creaking all weekend and just after nine the last morning, it gave a final squealing creak and snapped, dropping both of them to the floor. Jubilee was glad she was on top for that one but the sudden jolt sent her into orbit, triggering Logan's orgasm as well. Neither was very happy. They had only been at it for ten minutes. Considering that their sexcapades usually lasted much longer, they felt it was almost premature ejaculation. They decided to move the party to their room at the mansion. Stronger bed.

Hank's second and third attempts were complete when they returned to the mansion. Both rats had accepted the DNA splice at differing rates and both had developed virulent cancers as a result. They were euthanized when it became clear that they wouldn't survive. Logan was appalled that his body could be used to create such horrible diseases. He tried to get Jubilee to ask Hank to stop the experiments but she was adamant that he continue. This was her only chance to become a mother. Rejoining the team had become secondary. She wanted a baby so bad she was willing to sell her soul for the chance.

Logan informed Hank that he was no longer willing to participate in the experiment but, as he found out, his participation wasn't necessary. Logan's blood cells did something that no one else's did; they divided and replicated themselves. All blood cells are born and mature in the bone marrow. Once they have completed development, they do not reproduce as other cells do. They do their job, grow old and die. They are constantly replaced by the marrow in normal humans. In Logan's case, he not only grows new blood cells, but the ones that are circulating in his blood undergo mitosis and split themselves into exact copies of the original cell. He would have two young blood cells where there was once an old, dying cell. When his body doesn't need the extra blood cells, the mitosis slows down. Hank hypothesized that he could remove half of Logan's blood and it would be replaced within two hours by a combination of increased cell production in the marrow and mitosis of the remaining blood cells. On top of that, if the blood were supplied with a steady stream of nutrients, one tube would last for a very long time. He didn't need Logan's participation. He had enough blood to play with for years to come.

Jean was entering her eighth month when Hank finally worked out the kinks in the procedure. Jubilee had taken to leaving the room when Jean entered. The sight of the older woman's bulging belly and her preparations for the impending birth of her daughter was more than Jubilee could stand. They both remained behind when the team was called out but Jubilee couldn't bring herself to cuddle with Jean as she once had. Logan was becoming more and more alarmed as she sunk deeper into depression.

He had stopped making love with her a week ago. She hadn't had an orgasm in almost a month, no matter how hard he tried. He had hoped his news about Patrick Martin would life her spirits but she barely reacted at all. The only thing she said was "That's nice Logan".

The man who had married them on the streets of New York City was indeed Patrick Martin, or an exact copy. He had been an axillary Bishop of the Archdiocese of New York for over thirty years. In the last fifteen years of his life, he had become rather wild for a priest. He actively lobbied for a larger role for women in the church, accepted divorced parishioners and baptized illegitimate children in droves. The younger generation adored him. His superiors did not. He had been forced to retire at seventy-five. After his retirement, he had been known to perform marriages and baptisms on the spot, whenever he was asked. His behavior the night they met him was typical. The only problem Logan saw was that the man had indeed died over a year ago.

He finally had to talk to Scott about Jubilee when she refused to get out of bed for two days.

"I'm takin' Jubes ta Canada," he told his leader.

"I was wondering when you were going to ask," Scott told him. "Emma and I talked it over last night. If you didn't say something today, I was going to have her admitted for treatment."

"Ya can't do that, Cyke," he told him, surprised that he would go to such an extreme.

"She's suicidal, Logan," Scott told him gently. "Emma probed her mind last night. She has a plan and she's almost ready to implement it. She needs treatment or we'll loose her."

"Let me take her ta Canada fer a coupla weeks," he begged. "She'll get better, just wait. Jean havin' a baby is killin' her. She just needs some time away from here."

"The problem isn't going to go away, Logan. When she gets back, Jean will still be pregnant and Jubilee won't. She needs treatment."

"Give me two weeks," he asked. "If she ain't gettin' better in two weeks, I'll take her fer treatment."

Scott looked at him appraisingly. He had no doubts about Logan's love for the pretty firecracker. He wondered if he loved her enough to force her to come to terms with what has happened to her in the past seven months.

"Two weeks," he agreed, "and Emma keeps a telepathic ear out for her."

"Why Emma? Why can't Jean do it?"

"Jean's telepathy has been blocked by the baby for the past two months. Emma is familiar with Jubilee's mind and can reopen the link she had with her when she was at the Institute."

"So it's Emma or the nut house," Logan grumbled.

"We can't let her kill herself," Scott told him. "I don't think you'd survive it."

"Ya got that right. We're leavin' in the mornin'." He got up and held his hand out to Scott. Scott stood and shook the older man's hand.

"Take care of her, Logan," Scott said. "She means a lot to all of us."

Logan nodded sharply and left, returning to Jubilee's side.

The team had been so concerned about her mental health that she had not been left alone for two days. Remy was sitting with her when Logan returned to their room.

"Petite's very sad," he remarked in a low voice.

"We're leaving fer Canada tomorrow," Logan said in a low rumble.

"She need more dan ta get away, homme. She need a doctor."

"If she ain't better in two weeks, I'll take her ta see one," Logan told him as he pulled two bags from the closet. "I need ta give her the chance ta come outta this herself."

"Take a badge an' let Remy know how she doin'," he asked.

"I'll keep ya in the loop," Logan promised as he jammed clothing into the bags. Jubilee still hadn't stirred. "Get out, Gumbo. I need some time with my girl."

He stripped out of his clothes and climbed into bed beside Jubilee. He turned on his side and propped himself on his elbow so he could see her face. She had curled herself into a fetal position, her knees almost touching her chin. Hank had taken a bone marrow sample earlier in the week and she still had trouble moving her hip without pain. The pain reliever Hank had prescribed had the side effect of knocking her on her ass. One pill and she was out for four hours.

Logan was still very apprehensive about this. He didn't want to take the chance of loosing her; not to a chancy pregnancy and not to cancer. The greatest danger right now was Jubilee herself. If he couldn't lead her out of her dark depression, she would end up in a mental hospital on drugs. He couldn't stand to see her naturally bubbly personality smothered by antidepressants. He didn't know what he was going to do, but getting away from Jean's nesting had to help.

He pushed a lock of hair away from her face and sighed. "I don't care what anybody says," he whispered, "yer my wife. Ain't nothin' anyone can say is gonna change that."

Her scent had changed so much over the past two months. Gone was the sweet scent of joy that followed her everywhere. Now, she reaked of sadness and pain. Her skin, which always had a healthy glow, was now dull and pale. Her hair, her pride and joy, hung limply down her back. He didn't think she had washed it in a week. She didn't need to kill herself. She was dead already. Her body just didn't know it yet.