A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 16
"Those are some nasty bruises you have acquired, my frigid friend," Hank said to Bobby as he removed the bandages from around his ribcage and inspected the area.
"Well, at least people won't think I'm making it up when I say my ribs hurt like hell."
"True." Hank donned his stethoscope. "Breathe deeply, please," he requested as he placed the diaphragm on Bobby's chest.
As he went through a series of inhalations and exhalations, Bobby felt it increasingly difficult to keep his eyes open. He was not sure how much time had passed before he heard Hank's voice jarring him awake.
"Earth to Robert Drake," Hank said, waving his hand in front of his friend's face.
"Huh? What?"
Hank shook his head. "Don't take this the wrong way, Robert, but you look dreadful. There are raccoons and several heavy metal band members who would be jealous of the current appearance of your eyes. Are you certain you are feeling well?"
"I'm just tired, is all," Bobby muttered, rubbing at his forehead. "Haven't been able to sleep much."
"Is it a matter of not being able to rest comfortably?" Hank asked as he began to re-wrap Bobby's ribs.
When Bobby did not reply immediately, Hank stopped and looked up. "Robert? What's the trouble?"
Bobby looked down at his feet, dangling over the edge of the exam table. "I've, uh . . . been, uhm . . . having . . . well, nightmares," he mumbled.
"About the accident?" Hank asked, his voice kind.
"Yeah. I close my eyes, and I keep on seeing her sitting there in the burning car. Only when I try to get her out, I can't. It's like I'm frozen in place. Then she turns and looks at me, and it's Jeanie's face staring out the car window. She's screaming at me, begging me to help her, to save her. But I can't get to her, I can't move, I can't open the door, I can't ice anything. And then the flames are all around her, and she's screaming as it burns her. I just watch helplessly as the flesh on her face starts to melt away. . . ." Shuddering, Bobby covered his eyes with his hand and drew a shaky breath.
Feeling Hank's gentle hand on his shoulder, he hesitated a moment before finally looking up. He was relieved not to see any signs of judgment in his friend's eyes. Instead, there was only sympathy and concern.
Hank nodded in understanding as he resumed his task of bandaging. "We're all worried about Jeanie. When exhaustion-both emotional and physical-overtakes our bodies, our minds often over-react, giving voice to our darkest fears, our innermost guilt." He placed the last piece of tape. "We will find her, Bobby. We'll bring her home, safe and sound."
Sniffing, Bobby absently nodded his head. "So, do I check out all right, Hankster?"
"Yes. You're going to have to wear these for a while longer. I'd advise that you take it easy for at least six to eight weeks. Definitely no lifting of heavy objects for the next month. I'd like to repeat the x-rays in another week or two. How's your comfort level?"
"Okay. My doctor gave me some painkillers." He reached into his pocket and showed Hank the bottle.
Hank scrutinized the label through his reading glasses. "Dr. Rollings. Is that the woman who helped you acquire the blood sample?"
"No, the script came from the guy doc who was assigned to me after I was transferred upstairs. The one who helped me get the sample-Dr. Foxx-was my ER doctor, the one who saw me when I was first brought in."
"I see." Handing him back the bottle, Hank picked up Bobby's medical file and started to scribble in it. "Well, just let me know if these run out or if you need something stronger."
"Thanks. So, you done with me?"
Hank nodded. "Yes, by all means, please cover yourself. The reflection off of your pasty epidermis is nearly blinding."
"Hardy har har. We can't all be covered with thick blue fur, now can we?" Bobby reached beside him for his shirt. He tried not to wince as he slid his arms into the sleeves.
At the sound of footsteps, both men looked toward the doorway as Scott entered the room.
"Hi, Scotty," Hank called to him.
"Hey Hank. How are you feeling, Bobby?" Scott asked as he walked toward the exam table.
"Okay, thanks." Bobby was barely able to find his voice. As it was, he could not bring himself to meet his Scott's gaze. Instead, he focused on buttoning his shirt-which took a great deal of effort as he tried valiantly to keep his hands from shaking.
"Has Cable had any success?" Hank inquired.
Sadly, Scott shook his head. "Jubilee and Emma will be arriving within the hour. Hopefully Emma will have better luck."
"Or perhaps they can combine their telepathic talents to broaden the search," Hank suggested.
"Any word from the hospital?" Scott asked.
"No, though I expect my colleague in pathology to call at any ti-"
As if on cue, the phone in the medi-lab rang.
Hank bounded over to the desk and picked up the receiver. "Xavier Institute, Dr. McCoy speaking. . . . Hello, Linden. Has the exam been completed? . . . Yes. . . . I see. . . . Uh huh . . . So you have a diagnosis? . . . And you were able to compare the dental records? . . . Mmm-hmm. . . . And what about-? . . . Very good. . . . Well, thank you Linden, for getting back to me so quickly. . . . Yes, I will pass the information on to Mr. Summers. . . . Take care. Good-bye." As he replaced the receiver, he saw Scott standing not two feet in front of him.
"That was your friend who works in the hospital morgue?" he asked.
"Yes. They just finished the autopsy. They ruled the cause of death to be ARDS, just as Dr. Philips suspected."
"You had her autopsied?" Bobby asked, somewhat taken aback.
Hank nodded, though his attention was focused on Scott. The excitement in his face was nearly palpable. "They compared the dental records to Jeanie's."
"And? Don't keep me in suspense here, Hank."
He broke into a broad smile, all canines. "They didn't match. Good thing Jeanie's had a few fillings in her day."
Scott sighed. "What about-?"
"The postmortem exam also supported our suspicions. The woman who died was not pregnant, nor had she been so recently."
Nodding in silent understanding, Scott wordlessly collapsed into a chair. "Thank God," he murmured. Leaning back, he blew out a loud breath.
Bobby had watched the exchange in confusion. "What the hell is going on? Why did you have them check if the woman was pregnant?" As Hank and Scott both looked up at him, realization dawned. He felt all the color drain from his face. "Oh shit. You don't mean. . . . Jeanie's pregnant?" Even as he uttered the question, he already knew the answer.
Scott nodded at Bobby before looking up at the Beast. "Thank you, Hank, for taking care of this."
"No problem, Scott."
"Can I ask one more favor of you, Hank?"
"You have but to name it, Fearless."
"Could you make the necessary arrangements for the woman's remains?"
Though Hank's eyebrows rose, he barely missed a beat before replying. "Certainly, Scott. Would cremation suffice?"
Scott nodded. "I was thinking we could hold some sort of unofficial service, after we bring Jean home."
"Sure. I'll take care of it, Scott. You focus your attention on locating Jean."
"Thanks," Scott replied, getting to his feet. "I'm going to go let Nate, Ororo, and the others know about the autopsy results. "I'll catch up with you later." He quickly left the medi-lab.
"Great news, huh, Bob-" Hank stopped short as he caught sight of his friend's face. "Are you all right, Robert? You look as though you've seen a ghost."
"Jesus, Hank. I had no idea that Jeanie was pregnant." He shook his head in disbelief. "No wonder Scott's been so beside himself."
"Well, at least we can now all know for sure that the mystery woman was not Jean."
Bobby thought back to the morning of his shopping trip with Jean, to various comments she had made that he had thought nothing of at the time, but that now made perfect sense with the knowledge that she was expecting. "Christ, I'm such a jackass!"
"You can be somewhat of a knucklehead at times, but I would hardly characterize yourself in such a derogatory manner."
"How long have you known?"
"About Jeanie's pregnancy? Just since earlier today. Scott only just revealed the news to Ororo, Nathan, and myself. Don't feel left out, Robert. It was not common knowledge."
Bobby continued to shake his head.
Oh God. It's bad enough that I almost killed Jeanie. But I also almost killed her unborn child. Oh shit.
He felt suddenly sick to his stomach. "I- I gotta go," he muttered. With a grunt, he jumped down from the exam table.
"Robert?"
"I'll catch you later, Hank." As if in a daze, Bobby made his way out of the medi-lab and down the hallway. I'm to blame. It's because of me that Jeanie and the child she's carrying are in the hands of one of our greatest enemies. He took a shaky breath. And God only knows what that sick bastard's plans are for her, or her baby.
The edge of Bobby's vision grayed as he broke out into a cold sweat. His shirt stuck to his back as he stumbled down the corridor.
Oh God. I'm gonna pass out. Or worse. I'm gonna heave. Not here. I can't let anyone find me like this.
He hugged the wall as he struggled to keep his feet beneath him. Coming to a door, he entered the first room he passed-luckily, the men's locker room.
Feeling his stomach lurch, he quickly dashed into the adjoining bathroom. He made it into a stall just in time as his last meal came back up. He knelt in front of the bowl, retching for several moments until he was reduced to dry heaves. Each spasm felt like a blow to his chest, and he was soon panting, his body shaking from exhaustion. He tugged on the roll of toilet paper, pulling it toward his face to wipe his mouth and chin. It took all of his remaining energy to press the metal lever to flush the toilet.
Completely spent, he leaned back against the cool metal wall of the stall, drawing his knees up to his chest. He barely winced as the motion sent a sharp stab of pain across his chest.
Pain's good. You deserve it, Drake. For all the pain you've caused-to Scott, to Jean, to their unborn child. Because of him, any hopes his friends had for a family, for a future, might be gone forever. It's your fault. All of it's your fault.
Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he felt hopelessness grip his heart. Each sob that shook his body made his ribs ache more.
Good. You deserve this, you bastard, for the hell you've wreaked on your friends' lives. 'Friend'. Ha! He managed a derisive snigger. If this is what a friend does, I'd hate to see what you could do to them as their enemy. You're hopeless, Drake. Face it, you've screwed up royally-yet again. Only now, Scott and Jeanie and an innocent unborn life are gonna pay for your mistake. Woo hoo, triple play. When you fuck up, you really go for broke.
A sob ran through him, and he nearly choked. Christ. And what are you doing now? He swiped at his face with back of his hands. Rather than owning up to your mistakes and helping find Jean, rather than being there for Scott, you're squirreled away in a bathroom. Puking and blubbering like a pansy little boy. You're pathetic. This is all you're good for. Absolutely nothing.
Pulling his knees closer, Bobby buried his face in his arms and wept.
Jean regarded Isabella for a long moment. The other woman's face was almost as white as her nurse's uniform. "Well, Isabella? Will you help me escape?"
She licked her suddenly dry lips. "Yes. I'll do whatever I can to help you."
Jean released the breath she did not even realize she had been holding. "Come with me. I live at a school where other mutants like us are trained in the use of our powers."
Isabella smiled, but shook her head as she got to her feet. "If I go with you, he'll realize even sooner that we're gone, and he'll quickly track us down. If I stay behind, I should be able to buy you enough time to get away."
Jean regarded her for a moment. Though still ashen, Isabella looked much more put together. She was certainly putting on a brave face-whether for her own benefit, or Jean's, she was not certain. "All right. You're certain you won't come with me?"
Isabella nodded. "C'mon, it will be dawn soon. We need to get you out of here. But first we need to take care of some things in your room." Together, they quietly made their way out of the laboratory and back to Jean's hospital room.
Isabella walked to the corner closet, opened it, and pulled out a pile of blankets. She bunched them up and placed them beneath the covers on the bed, arranging them into a shape resembling a sleeping person. "Okay, now for directions. At the far end of the corridor is a staircase. Take it down several flights to the lower level. That's the sub-basement. Boiler room, backup generators, etcetera. There's also a tunnel that's part of the sewer system. I don't think it goes far, but once you get topside, you should be on the main road. We're kind of out of the way here. If you follow the road south-away from the North Star-you'll reach town in about five miles. I know it's far to walk. Here, take my shoes." She slipped off her clogs. "And my sweater." She helped Jean into the white button-down cardigan. "Do you want my whole uniform?"
"No, there's no time. I don't suppose you have a car here?" Jean asked, putting on the shoes. Luckily she and Isabella were about the same height, so they fit.
Sadly, Isabella shook her head. "Sorry, I'm just a poor starving student. I'm not even sure if I've got any cash on me. . . ." She rummaged through her uniform pockets, pulled out a few bills, which she held out. "Sorry, it's only about thirty dollars."
"Isabella. . . ."
"Go on, you're gonna need it," she insisted, pressing the money into Jean's hand and closing her fingers around it. "So, you understand my directions?"
"Yes. But aren't you coming with me at least part of the way?"
"Jean, if he finds out that I helped you escape. . . ." She let the thought go unfinished. They were both well aware of Sinister's temper. "We need to make it look like you got the better of me and snuck out. Here. . . ." She took the scalpel blade from Jean and used it to cut the plastic IV line into two long pieces. "You can tie me up with this and then shove me in the closet. Oh, and some tape for my mouth would be a nice touch," she added, retrieving some from a drawer. Finally, she held out a metal bedpan.
"What's that for?"
"You have to cold clock me."
"What? Isabella, I can't-"
The young woman laughed. "And just a few minutes ago, you were waving a scalpel in my face. Jean, if you don't . . . . well, I don't want to think about what he'll do to me if he thinks I've had any part in your escape. It's this, or the IV pump. And that thing weighs a ton. I'd rather not have my skull completely bashed in."
Jean hesitated.
"Jean, you have to. Think of your baby."
Blinking, Jean nodded. "All right. Thank you, Isabella, for everything," she said, reaching to embrace the other woman.
"I'm just sorry you're in this mess in the first place," she replied, hugging Jean back.
"Please, don't blame yourself. Just try to leave, as soon as you can."
"If he'll let me."
Jean pulled back, looked Isabella in the eyes. "I'll come back for you. I'll get reinforcements, and we'll get you out. I promise." She gave Isabella's hand a firm squeeze.
"Tie my hands and feet now, it'll make it easier." She held her wrists together, allowing Jean to fasten them together with the plastic tubing. Jean repeated the process with Isabella's ankles.
"Are they too tight?"
Isabella smiled. "They're supposed to be. Go on, now. Get the hell out of here." Hopping, Isabella turned around, so that her back was to Jean. "Godspeed, Jean."
Jean took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she whispered a moment before bringing the metal bowl down hard on Isabella's head. The other woman crumpled to the ground.
Jean knelt down beside her, felt for Isabella's pulse, assured herself that the other woman was breathing. Placing a strip of tape over her mouth, she grabbed her beneath the arms and dragged her into the closet, trying to be as gentle as she could. God, she really missed her telekinesis. Stroking Isabella's head, she regarded her for a long moment before closing her inside.
Shutting the light, she quietly slipped out the door into the hallway, and what she hoped would ultimately lead to freedom.
End Chapter 16