A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 9
Jean had been lying on her back, fast asleep, when something awoke her. She peered through the darkness of the room, over at the door, where a thin stream of light coursed inside, across the tile floor.
"Who's there?" she called out.
She heard nothing, saw no movement. Still, she could feel a presence. She could sense that someone was in the room.
"I know you're there. Show yourself!"
He appeared then, as though materializing from the ether. He approached the bed, and terror filled Jean, making it impossible for her to move.
She watched helplessly as a long-fingered hand reached down toward her, the pale skin illuminated by moonlight seeping in through the blinds. His palm came to rest on top of her swollen belly, fingers curling around it, possessively. His cool touch sent a shiver running through her. From within her womb, she felt her unborn child kick hard, as though in protest.
A loud laugh filled the room, reverberated off the walls. "This one is strong, just as I hoped."
An icy chill gripped Jean's heart. Somehow, she managed to find her voice. "Get away from me and my baby," she spat, hands clenching into fists at her sides.
The cold laughter once again filled her ears. "This remains your child for only a short while longer. Your job is nearly complete. You should be commended, for having served your purpose admirably." He increased the pressure on his fingertips ever-so-slightly. As if in response to his touch, Jean felt a tightening begin at her back, quickly extending across her sides toward her belly. She gasped.
He laughed again. "Ah, I see it will not be long now."
"Who are you? What do you want from me?" she asked, panting, as a cold sweat beaded her brow and upper lip.
"Ah, how quickly you forget me, Jean Grey-Summers. As for my purpose, I would think that perfectly obvious," he replied, taking a step closer. His face still remained largely in shadow, but the moonlight reflected off of the white of his toothy grin and his dark, dark eyes. Familiar eyes. Evil eyes. "Soon, this child shall be mine."
"No!" Jean tried to move, to push him away, to strike out. But she found that her wrists were bound to her sides, her ankles to the foot of the bed.
"I suggest you save your strength, my dear. You have one final task to perform." His baleful laughter filled the room. "I shall return as the time grows closer." With a final stroke of her belly, he took his leave. His exit was punctuated by a sharp spasm twisting through her abdomen, forcing a scream from her lips.
Jean awoke, screaming. She sat up in bed, hand flying to her belly, no longer swollen with child. At first she feared that the man had made good on his threat-but then she remembered where she was, that she was only just over three months along. It had been only a nightmare.
A moment later, the door burst open, and Isabella rushed inside. "Jean, are you all right? I heard you scream. . . ." She hurried to the bed, where Jean sat, pale and sweat-drenched, breathing heavily.
"N-nightmare," Jean panted.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"There was a strange man, standing in here with me, in the dark. He . . . touched me." Her arms wrapped around her middle protectively. "He wanted my baby. I- I think I was full term. I went into labor. And he was going to take my baby." Her mouth trembled as she felt hot tears sting her eyes. "He wanted to steal my baby."
"Shh," Isabella said, perching on the side of the bed. She began to rub Jean's back. "It's okay, Jean. It was just a dream. Just a nightmare. You're safe. You baby's safe, growing inside of you. Everything's going to be fine."
Sniffling, Jean nodded. "I- I'm sorry. It just . . . it felt so real. So terrifyingly real."
"Well, it wouldn't be a nightmare if we didn't believe it was real at the time," Isabella replied, still stroking Jean's back. "Here," she said, offering her a box of tissues.
"Thanks," Jean replied, taking one to wipe her eyes. She regarded the young nurse for a moment. "Isabella, please don't take this the wrong way, but what are you still doing here? Don't you ever go home?"
Isabella smiled. "I prefer to work twelve-hour shifts. Why, are you sick of me already?"
"Oh no-far from it. You've been wonderful. Thank you for everything."
"It's been my pleasure. Here, I'll leave these with you," she said, placing the box of tissues next to Jean as she got to her feet and smoothed the skirt of her uniform.
"Were you able to get in touch with Scott?" she asked, blowing her nose. "I thought he'd be here by now."
Isabella began to fuss with the mussed blanket, tugging it back into place. "There was no answer."
Jean's brow furrowed. Was he away on a mission? "Did you try the other number-the number for the school where we work?"
"Yes, but I only got a machine. I left a message."
"Strange. . . ."
"Are you hungry? How about I bring you some food?" the nurse offered.
"I would love a cup of herbal tea if you've got any."
"I think I'll be able to track some down. Any requests for a meal? Have any weird cravings yet?"
Jean smiled. "I'm not very hungry right now, thanks. Maybe a little later."
"Sure. One cup of herbal tea coming right up," the nurse said, heading for the door.
"Isabella," Jean called after her.
She stopped and turned back around. "Yes?"
"Any word on Bobby? Is he out of surgery yet?"
The nurse visibly stiffened. She grasped her hands in front of her, fingers lacing tightly.
"Isabella. . . ?" Jean felt her heart in her throat.
"Jean, there's, uhm. . . . there's something I need to tell you."
"About Bobby?"
She nodded as she slowly approached the bed. "I'm afraid I have some bad news."
Jean brought a hand to her trembling mouth.
"Jean, Bobby . . . he didn't make it. I'm so sorry."
"Oh God." Jean blinked, even as tears streamed down her cheeks. "He . . . he didn't survive the surgery?"
"Uhm. . . ."
Jean looked up at her questioningly.
"Jean, he . . . he never made it to surgery. He was already gone when they brought him in."
"What! But you told me he had to go to emergency surgery. Why did you lie to me?"
"I'm sorry, Jean. I- I didn't want to upset you. I was going to tell you after I was sure you were stable, but then you were worried about the baby, and I didn't want to add any more stress until we were sure the baby was okay. It wasn't my intention to keep things from you. I was just trying to do what was best for you. I'm so sorry about your friend, Jean. So very sorry."
"I- I can't believe he's gone," Jean murmured, shaking her head. "I can't believe Bobby's gone. . . ." Lowering her head, she began to sob softly.
Once again, Isabella sat down on the edge of the bed, this time facing Jean. Wordlessly, she held her arms open, and Jean gladly reached for her. Isabella held her, gently rubbing her back, issuing soft, soothing sounds, as Jean wept for the loss of one of her oldest and dearest friends.
End Chapter 9