A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 2
"Thank you once again, Jeanie, for all of your help today." Almost two hours later, she and Bobby were finally heading back to the parking lot. Their mission had been successfully accomplished now that a small velvet box containing a pair of diamond stud earrings was safely tucked away in Bobby's coat pocket.
"Well, thank you for treating me to lunch," Jean replied.
"Hey, no prob. You'd think it was going out of style, the way you packed it away," he teased.
"I skipped breakfast. Besides, I always work up a monstrous appetite shopping."
"Well, you must burn off a lot of calories looking for the latest sales. Because if you always eat like that when you shop, I don't know how else you maintain that incredible figure of yours."
"Flattery will get you almost anywhere, Mr. Drake," she said with a smile as she slipped her arm through his.
"Oh, really? Will it get you to wear that red lipstick for me?"
She punched him in the arm. "Remember, Bobby? Jealous husband? Deadly gaze?"
"Oh yeah. I almost forgot." He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "Gonna be winter before we know it."
Jean nodded. "Well, at least we're actually having a decent autumn this year. As opposed to this year's one entire week of spring between winter and summer."
"One would think having a weather goddess around would remedy that matter," he remarked offhandedly.
Jean smiled. "Bobby, you know Ororo can't constantly manipulate weather patterns to suit our personal needs. It would cause havoc to the climate of surrounding areas."
"Says the woman who had an outdoor wedding in Westchester, New York in January."
"That's different. That was-"
"No different than me using my powers to create a little relief during a heat wave," he said, pressing the remote to unlock the car and opening the passenger side for her.
"I don't know if Hank would agree with that, after he dove into a swimming pool full of ice water," Jean countered as she climbed inside.
"Hey, at least he had fur for insulation," Bobby replied, closing the door before walking over to the driver's side and joining her inside.
"So when exactly is your mom's birthday?" Jean asked as she fastened her seatbelt.
"Monday," Bobby replied, securing his own before starting the engine.
She snickered.
"What?"
"Why didn't you wait to the last minute, Bobby?"
"What are you talking about? It's Thursday. This is shopping early for me." Glancing over his shoulder, he backed out of the space and into the aisle. Pausing for only a second or two, he switched from reverse to drive, sending them screeching across the parking lot.
"Bobby!" Jean gripped the dashboard. "Be careful! A little kid could suddenly dart out from between cars."
"Sorry," he muttered, slowing down as they approached the exit. They came to a halt behind several other cars waiting to pay the parking fee. Bobby retrieved his ticket from the visor.
"Here," Jean said, reaching into her purse.
"No, I've got it," Bobby insisted. "You were my guest."
"Free lunch and parking? Remind me to go shopping with you more often."
He lowered his window to pay the parking fee. "No offense, Jeanie-'cause I love spending time with you and all-but if I never see a mall again for the next year, it'll be too soon." He stepped on the accelerator, and they sped down the street.
"Jesus, Bobby, how old are you?" she asked, grasping the handle to her door.
"What? You don't like my driving?"
"Well, I might be able to answer that better if we hadn't left my stomach back in the parking lot. . . ."
"Jean, some of your regular means of transportation are on an SR-71 Blackbird and levitating via telekinesis-not to mention the occasional trip on one of my very own ice slides. How the heck can a little old fashioned driving bother you?" he asked, looking over his shoulder before merging onto the highway.
"Old fashioned is right-as in a 50's drag race. You're an adult, not some greaser adolescent punk that needs to impress a girl or the members of the opposing gang-"
"Geez, are you guys ever going to stop treating me as 'the kid'? I can see why when I was fourteen and you, Scott, and Warren were sixteen and Hank was like twenty going on fifty, 'cause at that age it seems like night and day. Once we hit college, though, I thought you'd have outgrown the big sister act."
"Bobby, no matter how old we are, part of me if going to still see you as that fresh-faced, sweet but oh-so-juvenile kid. We'll be in out eighties, and I'll still think of you as my little brother. As such, I'm always going to worry about you. And therefore, always going to pester you. I can't help it-it's my nature."
"I know, I know. . . .Just like it's in my nature to resist authority."
"Oh, yeah. You're a regular badass." She suppressed a chuckle.
"Is that skepticism I hear?" he asked, switching to the left lane.
"Well, what are you going to do, intimidate the hell out of someone with your witty repertoire?"
"Gee, thanks, Jeanie. Hit a guy below the belt, why don't'cha?"
"Hardly. It's just someone like, say, Remy can pull off the whole Rebel Without a Cause thing, whereas-"
"Without a cause my ass-the man's a former thief for God's sake. And part of his mutant powers is to charm-" He stopped abruptly when he realized that she was laughing. "What? What'd I say?"
"There's no need to be jealous, Bobby. Not all ladies go for the bad boy type. Look at me, for instance. Scott is practically the polar opposite."
"Yeah, well, what about the whole Logan thing?"
If almost anyone else had brought up that subject, Jean would have taken offense. But because it was Bobby-and because she had known him for so long-she did not even bat an eye at the suggestion. "Flirtation. A harmless attraction. I am a woman, after all. I still like to look. But Scott's the one I married. He's the one I love, the one whom I want to spend the rest of my life with."
"So what's your point? That what they say about nice guys finishing last isn't always necessarily true?"
"Regarding affairs of the heart, yes. In the case of public perception of super powered mutants, sadly no." She tried to make the comment light-hearted, but her reach at humor fell flat. Jean sighed. "Is that what this all boils down to? Are you worried about finding 'the one'?"
"Where the hell did that come from? You certainly weren't reading my mind, because that was the farthest thing from it."
"Defensive, aren't we?"
He ignored her, and continued to voice his scorn. "I know what you must be thinking: 'Bobby's way too immature. Maybe if he stopped kidding around all the time, he could actually maintain a relationship'."
"Bobby-"
" 'If he actually started acting his age, maybe women would take him seriously'."
"No, Bobby, that's not what I'm saying at all."
"Well, what then?"
"What I was going to say was that many women find a sense of humor quite attractive. I'm only a sample size of one, but I like to laugh. I find it relaxing, calming. And that's how people in a relationship should feel when they're together, don't you think?"
He felt suddenly sheepish for over-reacting and jumping down her throat. "Uh, yeah, I guess," he muttered softly.
She reached to place her hand on his arm. "Don't sell yourself short, Bobby. You're a wonderful friend. You're a kind, caring man. You don't need a fast car or a tough attitude to make people notice you, let alone like you. Just be yourself. Believe me, the right woman will come along and appreciate you for who you are."
He could not help but smile. "You just saying that as my 'big sis'?" he asked, sparing a glance over at her.
"Bobby, when have you ever known me to pay someone lip service?" she asked, a hint of disdain in her voice.
Catching sight of her eyes, of the stark sincerity of her expression, he knew that she was being perfectly earnest. In all the years that he had known her-ever since they were kids, really-Bobby had trusted Jean's judgment, respected her opinions; he valued them highly, in fact. For some reason, silly as it may be, knowing that she felt so strongly about him, hearing her speak such heartfelt praise aloud, made him feel really good about himself.
Geez, Drake, is your ego that fragile that you need your friends to bolster it? Talk about pathetic. . . .
Feeling her give his arm a gentle squeeze, he looked over at her. She was smiling encouragingly, a gesture that lit up her entire face. He could not help but grin back. "Thanks, Jeanie."
She nodded. Then, unexpectedly, the smile faded from her face. "Bobby. . . ."
"Yeah?" he asked, eyes returning to the road.
At the same moment he saw another car completely stopped in their path, its brake lights not even on, he heard her shout "Look out!"
"What the hell?" he wondered aloud. There had been no one else in front of them for the past several miles. His lane had been clear the last time he had looked at the road mere seconds earlier.
"Shit!" Bobby cut the wheel sharply to the right in an attempt to avoid the stopped vehicle. Almost immediately, they started to skid. "Goddammit!" He slammed on the brakes, but it did no good. He lost control of the car, and they continued to spin. "Hold on!" he shouted, fighting desperately to regain handling.
"Jeanie, can you grab-?" he started to ask her.
Before he could finish the thought, their turning came to an abrupt halt as they collided with the concrete highway divider. The impact was jarring, and Bobby felt his jaw snap shut with an audible smack a moment before the airbags dispensed, pushing him backwards with almost as much intensity as the initial collision. Then everything went black.
Bobby awoke to the smell of smoke. It took him a moment to realize where he was, what had happened. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious. He tried pushing the airbag out of his face, off of his chest. The sudden movement made him dizzy, and there was a dull ache in the back of his skull. The interior of the car was filled with thick smoke, and he started to cough. He looked to his right, could barely make out the outline of his companion. She was slumped forward onto the passenger-side airbag, her hair falling over her face.
"Jeanie?" he called. "Can you hear me? Jeanie!" He tried shaking her, but she did not respond. She must be unconscious. "Gotta get you out of here," he muttered in between coughs.
He reached to unbuckle his seat belt, but recoiled with a yelp. The metal was damned hot. He pointed a finger and iced it, then grabbed it in his hand, shattering it. He tried to reach for Jean, but found that the airbags were in his way. "Goddammit!" Looked like he was going to have to do things the hard way.
Pushing open the door, he climbed outside. Getting to his feet left him with a head rush, and he had to lean on the car door to keep from puking or passing out. As he forced air into his lungs, he caught wind of the unmistakable odor of gasoline.
"Fuck. . . !"He looked up at the front of the car, and saw the flicker of flames lapping up from the edges of the hood. "Fuck fuck fuck!" He had to move fast.
He became suddenly aware of his heart pounding against his ribcage, the way his breathing became quick and shallow. Despite how quickly he tried to act, time seemed to now be moving in slow motion. He attempted to rush around the front of the car, holding onto it for support, nearly falling several times in the process. He had just rounded the bumper and when there was a small bang like a mini-explosion. It rocked the car, and made him fall flat on his ass, mud splattering into his face. He used a hand to wipe it out of his eyes. What he saw next when he glanced up at the car made his stomach drop.
In addition to the thick, black smoke, there were now orange-yellow flames in the car. Some appeared to be burning right in the area of the passenger side.
"Oh God! Jeanie! No!"
Fighting vertigo, he forced himself to his feet, icing up in the process. They exertion left him suddenly weak, but he fought to stay upright, focusing his mind-his will-on one single goal. As he ran towards the car, he projected mist and ice in the door's direction. With a downward thrust of his elbow, the door shattered, giving him a clear view of Jean.
She was on fire.
Tamping down panic and exhaustion, he was fueled by pure adrenaline alone. Once again, he cast a thick fog-like mist, along with snow and ice, onto her body, enveloping her in a veritable ice cocoon. The casing seemed to do the trick, and put out the flames. There was an audible hiss and more smoke filled the car, nearly obstructing his view of her.
Wordlessly, he picked her up in his arms-God, she was so hot, even covered in a thin layer of ice. Holding her against him, he backed away from the car. For a moment, he considered putting the freeze on the entire vehicle. But the rush was already fading, and he feared he did not have the strength to complete the task, let alone protect Jean. His only thought at that moment was to get her the hell out of there. He had to get her to safety at all costs.
He turned around, trying to maintain his balance with the new added load. He had gotten them about fifteen feet away when the real explosion occurred. The force of the blast sent them flying another ten feet or so. In that split second, he tried to roll to absorb most of the impact himself. The force of their landing sent her flying from his arms, skidding across the pavement.
He tried to raise himself, but to no avail. He had no strength left. As his concentration faltered, he reverted to human form.
For the second time in five minutes, the world went black for Bobby Drake.
End Chapter 2