A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 17
I should have called first, Dr. Foxx told herself as she drove past the main gate of the Xavier Institute for Higher Learning. Hell, I should have just called, period. They may not even be his.
But the fact of the matter was she was pretty damned certain that the box of earrings belonged to Bobby Drake. She recalled a conversation over bagels and coffee during which he recounted his shopping trip to the Salem Center Mall with Jean Summers to search for a birthday gift for his mother. If the situation regarding the injured woman's identity had not been so somber, the telling of the green nail polish conversation alone would have been pretty damned entertaining. As it were, when she finally got him to relax a bit and relate the adventures he and Jean had in Macy's, they were both laughing hard. She nearly snarfed coffee at one point. By the end of his tale, they were both wiping tears from their eyes.
After all he had gone through to find the perfect gift, Bobby had been quite proud of his acquisition. Funny that he had not commented on the gift being missing. But then again, he may not have even realized. Besides, it was not as though he did not have other more pressing matters on his mind at the time. But the fact remained that the earrings in the box that now rested in her coat pocket matched his description to a 'T'. To say nothing of the matter of Bobby being treated in Curtain Three, where the earrings were found, during his brief sojourn in the ER.
They had to be his. By now, he probably assumed they were lost. The proper thing to do was return them to him. His mom needed her birthday gift, after all.
Dr. Foxx drove around the circle drive, and parked in front of the mansion. Shutting the engine, she climbed out of the car and craned her neck back to get a good view of the place. She whistled loudly. These are some digs. I can't believe he gets to live here. Lucky bastard.
She felt suddenly underdressed in her pale blue scrubs. She pulled her coat closed, fastening the buttons and cinching the belt. Hopefully that made her at least slightly more presentable.
It's not like you're staying for dinner, she reminded herself. You're dropping off the earrings. Hell, you don't even have to see him. You can leave 'em with whoever answers the door. I'm sure the butler will take care of it.
Taking a deep breath, she mounted the front steps. Squaring her shoulders, she rang the bell. An old-fashioned sounding gong resounded just behind the door. As she waited, she hastily tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. When over a minute had passed, she rang the bell again. Then rapped three times with the ornate brass knocker.
"All right, all right! I am coming, posthaste!" bellowed a deep voice from the other side of the wooden door. There was the click of deadbolts being slipped open, then the rattle of the knob being turned. She heard the voice more clearly as the door started to swing inward. "Don't tell me, Jubilee: you forgot your keys yet ag-" The owner of the voice came up short as he realized that it was not his expected guest standing on the doorstep, but rather a complete and utter stranger. "Oh my stars. . . !" he gasped, mouth falling open.
Perhaps, under other circumstances, Dr. Foxx would have been startled to see the inch-long canines protruding into his gaping maw. Right now, though, she was preoccupied with the fact that the massive man standing before her was covered in dark blue fur. At least, what she could see of him that was not obscured by a white lab coat appeared furry.
To her benefit, Dr. Foxx did not faint or gasp or curse or get sick to her stomach. She did, however, continue to stare at him, nonplussed-no matter how rude she knew that to be.
"Oh . . . uhm . . . er, that is. . . ." The blue-furred man cleared his throat and pushed his small, wire-rimmed glasses up onto his nose. "Good afternoon, Miss. . . ."
She licked her lips. "It's Doctor, actually. Dr. Ashley Foxx." She held out her hand.
Surprised, he hesitated a moment before wrapping his comparatively massive hand around her own smaller one and shaking it. "Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Foxx. I am-"
"Dr. Henry McCoy," she finished for him with a bright smile. "I know exactly who you are. I've followed all your research. Absolutely brilliant. It's an honor to meet you, Dr. McCoy." She pumped his hand excitedly.
He quickly lost his shell-shocked countenance as he graced her with a bright-albeit toothy-grin. "Forgive me my reticence," he said, righting himself. "You see, yours is not the typical reaction I receive when encountering a stranger-particularly one who was not expecting to look upon my hirsute visage."
She giggled. It was somehow disconcerting to hear the voice of an English professor emanating from such a . . . beastly countenance.
"Please, my good doctor, won't you come in?" He took a step back, bowing fully at the waist.
Smiling, she walked past him and into the main foyer. She got a glimpse of what appeared to be a proper sitting room to the right, and a formal dining room to the left. A magnificent wooden staircase stood directly before her.
"May I take your coat?"
She turned to face him. "That's okay, Dr. McCoy. I won't be staying long. I just came to drop something off for Dra-for Bobby Drake."
He arched an eyebrow-at least she assumed the curve of midnight-blue fur that rose directly above his glasses to be an eyebrow. "Oh? You have something for Robert? And please, call me Hank. We are colleagues, after all."
"I'm hardly in your league, Doc-"
"Uh uh uh," he interrupted, holding up a single clawed-clawed!-finger. "Hank. Henry, if you prefer. None of this doctor business. I insist. Please, don't force me to become violent. I abhor violence."
"All- all right. But only if you call me Ashley."
"It's a deal," he replied with a grin. "So you were the lucky ER physician who was assigned to Robert."
"Yes. How did you know?" Surely Bobby had not mentioned her. Had he?
"I saw your name on his paperwork. I serve as physician for all the students and teachers here at the Institute."
"I see. And you still have time to do research, amongst . . . other . . . things?"
Hank shrugged. Ever since he had publicly revealed his identity years earlier, he knew it would be impossible to hide his exploits with first the Avengers and then the X-Men from the media. While it made him a household name from countless appearances on the five o'clock news, it was quite troublesome when it came to garnering respect for his scientific research.
"Well, let me offer my thanks on behalf of everyone here for taking such wonderful care of Robert. And for putting up with him," he added with a wink.
She smiled. "Just doing my job."
"I only wish we could all receive reparation for listening to his bad jokes. Now, I believe you said you had something to drop off for him?"
"Yes. I can just leave it with you." She reached into her pocket, producing the small velvet jewelry box. "One of the janitors found this beneath the bed in the area where Bobby was treated. I suppose it must have fallen out of his coat when they were putting away his possessions."
"How fortuitous. Bobby was sure it must have been lost during the accident."
"That's what I figured. Now he won't have to buy his mother another birthday gift."
Hank's eyes widened. "You know these are to be a gift for his mother?"
She nodded. "Yeah, he told me over breakfast the other day."
"Indeed?"
"Well, Hank, if you wouldn't mind seeing that Bobby got these, I'll be on my way," she said, holding out the box.
"Nonsense. Bobby's just downstairs. I shall go fetch him without further ado. I'm sure he would like to express his appreciation to you in person for returning the jewelry. Please, make yourself comfortable in the parlor," he suggested, walking her to the room. "I shall return with Robert shortly." With a final bow, he bounded out of the room and down the foyer.
She sat down on the couch and looked around at the ornate beauty of the room: oriental rug, brocade wallpaper, oil paintings in gilded wooden frames, antique furniture that looked to be of the Victorian Era. Suddenly self-conscious dressed as she was and sitting on such an expensive sofa, she slid forward, straightened her back, and crossed her legs at the ankle as her grandmother had taught her all proper young ladies should sit when she was a little girl.
She imagined sipping a cup of tea and nibbling on some biscuits while she sat here with Hank and a gathering of other scientists and doctors, discussing the latest medical breakthroughs. One lump, please, she would tell the butler as he refilled her cup and offered her milk and sugar from his tray.
She giggled at her inane little fantasy. Lord, she had not thought about having 'tea' since she and Gram entertained her stuffed animals. After which, she would promptly pull out the black purse that served as her medical bag and make the teddy bear, unicorn, and Barbie say 'Ah' and listen to their hearts with her plastic stethoscope. Her grandmother once asked her, 'Do you want to be a nurse when you grow up, Ashley, dear?' to which she replied, 'No, I'm gonna be the doctor, Gram. I wanna give the shots!'
Her reverie was interrupted by the sound of a key in the lock of the front door. Hearing two female voices-one adult, one decidedly teenaged-she leaned forward on the couch to try to glimpse them as they entered the foyer.
". . . will be hell to pay when I learn who parked that atrocious little Honda in front of the steps," the adult declared, her voice cold and commandeering-someone used to getting her way, no doubt.
"What've you got against Hondas?" the younger woman asked. "Bobby's got a Honda. At least he did, before the, uh, accident."
"I rest my case." A pause. "So kind of them to come and greet us," said the older woman, sounding quite miffed.
As if on cue, there came a rumbling from the back of the house. Dr. Foxx watched in disbelief as a man flew past the parlor at great speed. At least, she thought it was a man. She could barely make out a torso and outstretched arms, while his bottom half seemed to be composed of fire or plasma. He certainly left a stream of smoke in his wake. Both frightened and curious, she quietly crept over to the doorway and peered into the foyer, keeping her body hidden behind the huge leaves of a potted rubber tree.
"Hey there, Jubilee," said a tall, lanky blonde man as he hugged the girl enthusiastically. He seemed only a few years older than she, and spoke with a thick Southern accent.
"Hiya, Sammy."
"Miss Frost," he said, inclining his head in greeting at the older woman. If he had been wearing a hat, Dr. Foxx was certain he would have tipped it.
"Samuel," she replied.
"Is it only you two?" he asked.
"What, you were expecting someone else?" Jubilee questioned.
"I guess I was hopin' Paige might've come with you, is all." He ducked his head as a blush crept up his fair cheeks.
"Well, Sam, you see, your sister is a student, and classes cannot be suspended every time there is a 'situation' that calls for our immediate attention." There was no mistaking the bitterness in her patronizing tone.
"But Jubilee's here, ma'am," he pointed out.
"Unfortunately, my fellow headmaster vetoed me on that account. Normally, I don't give in to Sean quite so easily, nor do I come running every time Charles or his little protégé calls. But the circumstances apparently require my special talents."
What was she going to do-freeze some poor schmoe to death with her icy glare?
"And even I am not so petty so as to kick a man when he's down. Now, shall we get down to business?"
"Sure thing, ma'am. The others are downstairs in the Ready Room. Ladies." Holding out his arm, he gestured for them to go ahead of him.
As the trio passed by the entrance to the parlor, Dr. Foxx stepped back to place the tree between her and them, inadvertently shaking some branches in the process.
"Wait!" Frost barked, bringing the teens to a halt. "Someone has been watching us," she announced loudly, turning toward the parlor. And she's a norm, she projected into their minds.
Geez, Em, for a second there I thought you were gonna call her a flatscan, Jubilee retorted through the mindlink.
"Show yourself!"
With a deep breath, Dr. Foxx stepped out from behind the plant. She tried not to stare at the Frost woman now that she was able to get a good look at her: she was dressed entirely in white, from her unbuttoned leather duster, to the snug bustier-was she really wearing a bustier?-to her skin-tight leather pants, to the stiletto boots that came to mid-thigh level. Even her blonde hair was so light so as look almost white.
"I know how this must look," the doctor said, smiling sheepishly. "I didn't mean to eavesdrop. Hank told me to wait in the parlor, and-"
"Henry knows you're here?" Frost placed her hands on her hips.
She nodded.
"And he left you here, unattended?" Knowing full well that Jubilation and I would be arriving at any time. For a genius with dual degrees, that man can be quite obtuse at times.
"He said he'd be right back." Feeling suddenly bold, she walked closer. "Hi, Jubilation. How have you been?"
The girl's brow furrowed. "Do I know you?"
"You probably don't remember me. I was the doctor that treated you after your accident last summer-when you were hit by that drunk driver."
"That's right! You're the one who stitched up my head and bandaged my hands. You did a great job. I don't even have a scar." Pushing back her bangs, she showed the doctor the faint white line on her temple.
It was at that moment that Hank returned with Bobby. The two men stopped short at the sight of Dr. Foxx examining Jubilee's forehead.
"Oh my stars and garters!" Hank gasped.
"Great going, furball," Bobby muttered. "Hey Doc. Jubilee. Emma." The last name was said so coolly there was practically ice hanging from the word.
"Hey Bobby," Jubilee smiled.
"Robert," Emma replied, her own tone glacial.
"Have you all, er, met?" Hank asked.
"Jubilee is a former patient of mine," Dr. Foxx explained. "The others, though, I don't know."
"Well, then, allow me to make introductions," Hank said, stepping forward.
Henry, do you really think this is a good idea?
The best offense, Emma. . . . For all that she knows right now, this is just my place of employment.
You're delusional, McCoy.
I prefer optimistic. "Everyone, this is Dr. Ashley Foxx. It seems she's making a career out of patching up students-or former students-of this school. Ashley, this is Samuel Guthrie."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am," he said with a bright smile as he shook her hand.
"You have already met young Jubilation."
"Good to see you again, Jubilation."
"Call me Jubilee," she replied, cracking her gum.
"And this is Emma Frost-"
"Of Frost Enterprises," she said, ignoring the hand that was proffered to her.
"Oh." Dr. Foxx looked perplexed. "Should I have heard of it?"
Hank's eyes widened, Sam blanched, Jubilee bit her lip to keep from laughing, and Bobby grinned as Emma's fair complexion gained significant color.
"So, uh, what brings you to our humble abode, Dr. Foxx?" Jubilee quickly asked.
"Oh. I was, uhm, just returning something that Bobby left at the hospital." Reaching into her pocket, she produced the small velvet box.
"Ooh, what's that?" Jubilee asked, walking closer. "More importantly, who's the lucky girl?"
Out of the corner of his eye, Bobby saw Emma cross her arms and gaze at him expectantly. Feeling his own cheeks flush, he avoided her eyes and took the box from Dr. Foxx, his fingers lightly brushing her palm in the process. "It's a birthday gift for my mom," he explained. "Earrings." He hastily shoved the box into his pants pocket. "Thanks for returning this, Doc. I really thought it fell out in the car during the accident." He smiled at her.
Oh, isn't this touching, Emma projected. And me without my Kleenex.
No one asked you, Emma.
Well, it's obviously a good thing that I arrived when I did. Bring her downstairs, and I'll take care of this little mess.
Take care how?
By mind-wiping her, of course.
"What!" Bobby was so taken aback that he voiced his protest out loud.
"Drake?" Dr. Foxx questioned. "What's wrong?"
"I, uh, thought Emma said something." He offered Emma a cold glare.
"No, actually, I said that I'm just glad you were able to get the earrings back." There was no mistaking the predatory look Emma was giving her, nor the way it made her involuntarily shiver. "Wh-what's going on?"
"Nothing, Doc," he assured her. "Nothing at all." You will not touch her mind, Emma. I won't allow it.
She laughed in his head. Your meager attempts at male posturing are quite entertaining, Bobby. But the fact remains that security has been compromised. This woman knows our secrets. The threat of exposure is too great. We must ensure that she remembers nothing of what she saw here.
She's not going to tell anyone, Emma. She's not that kind of person.
How can you be certain of that? You barely know her.
I know her well enough. I'll take care of it.
This concerns more than you or I, Bobby. I have an entire school of mutant children for whom I'm responsible. I will not see them come to harm because your little doctor friend decides to let it slip to a nurse, who tells her cousin the news reporter that there's a school that all the mutie kids attend.
I said I'll take care of it, Emma. Now get the fuck out of my head! He clamped down on his thoughts then, erecting the meager mental shields that Xavier and Jean had taught him over the years.
"Am I missing something?" Dr. Foxx asked Bobby before looking to Hank in confusion. "I feel like I walked into the theater in the middle of the movie."
"Nothing you need to worry about," Bobby said. Ignoring Emma, he offered her his full attention. "Hey, Doc, would you like to take a walk? The grounds are especially beautiful this time of year, when the leaves are changing colors."
"Uhm, sure, Drake. I'd love to." She looked at Hank. "Will you be joining us?"
Before Hank could reply, Bobby spoke. "No, these guys have got some . . . school business to attend to. C'mon, Doc, we can go out through the kitchen." Placing a hand on the small of her back, he gently pushed her forward, guiding her toward the back of the house. They made their way into the kitchen, and Bobby reached to unlock the door. "I'll admit, it's not as nice as the spring or summer, when everything's in bloom. Ororo loves to garden-I swear, the woman has ten green thumbs-and she helps make the place look like an arboretum." He opened the door, and bade her pass through.
She did, and he followed her outside. They headed down a stone path that was flanked with various types of greenery.
"So what's with you and Emma?" she asked him.
"What do you mean?"
"I could practically cut the tension with a knife back there. She an old girlfriend or something?"
"Not exactly." He shoved his hands into his pockets, concentrating his gaze on the trees in the distance.
"I'm sorry, Drake. It's none of my business."
"No, that's okay." He sighed. "It's just, things with Emma are . . . complicated."
She nodded, though she did not appear to completely follow. "Well, she doesn't exactly seem to be a simple person to understand."
"She's not."
"I'll say one thing about her, though: she's certainly got . . . interesting taste in clothing. I hate to think how many albino cows gave their lives to fill her leather wardrobe."
They laughed. Soon, though, they grew quiet. Before long, the silence grew uncomfortable.
They both started to talk at the same time, which elicited another chuckle.
"Go ahead," he said.
"No, you go first," she told him.
"All right." He took a deep breath. "Doc, I think we need to talk."
"Yes, I think we do."
"There's a bench over there, by that oak tree. Want to go sit down?" he suggested.
"Sure." She walked with him off of the path and up a small hill. Together, they sat down side-by-side on the cool marble. "So. . . ."
"So," he repeated. He took another breath. "I'm sure you're wondering about all that you've seen and heard here today."
"I'd say that's a fair assumption, yes," she agreed.
"Just, uhm, how much did you hear before Hank and I came upstairs?"
She sighed as she ran her hands down the fabric of the coat covering her lap. "Enough to confirm the suspicions I already had formed at the hospital."
He looked at her in surprise. "What sort of suspicions?"
"There were enough little things that each sent up a red flag. Separately, I might have been able to ignore them. But together, they just made the possibility more and more likely."
"Doc, I want to make sure we're on the same page here. What is it you suspect?"
She turned to face him. "Drake, I know that you and your friends-fellow teachers, students, whatever you want to call each other-are mutants."
For his part, Bobby was able to keep his expression neutral.
"I'm guessing the reason Emma was so pissed that I was there was because she fears that I'll reveal your secrets. But let me assure you, I won't say a word to anyone." She placed her hand on his, where it lay on the bench between them. "They're not my secrets to tell."
"Doc-"
"No, let me finish." When he nodded, she continued. "I realize you don't know me from Adam. But in the few days since I've met you, gotten to know you, I've realized something. You're a good man, Bobby Drake. You may not always be serious, that's true, but when push comes to shove, you pull through. You know where your loyalties lie, and when someone you care about is in need, you're there for them, unconditionally. Your friends obviously mean a lot to you, and you'd move heaven and earth if it meant helping them. To have found people like that-who it seems would do the same for you-must mean that you're a halfway decent judge of character.
"So I'm hoping, then, that you can recognize the truth about me. When I give someone my word, I keep it. Just as I took the Hippocratic Oath the day I became a doctor, promising to 'Do no harm,' today I offer you the same sentiment. I'm not some crazy right-wing human rights fundamentalist. I don't support the Friends of Humanity or believe in genetic purity for the species. I'm a supporter of mutant rights. I believe that someone like you-" she squeezed his hand for emphasis- "is just as human as me. We're no different, you and I. We each have special talents. Mine is helping to heal people using my knowledge of science, whereas yours is. . . ." She paused, brow furrowing. "Just what the heck can you do?"
Smiling, Bobby raised his free hand, palm upwards. A small sphere of mist began to gather an inch above his hand. She watched, entranced, as the water droplets in the air gathered, coalesced, and condensed, forming frost. As the mist parted, he held out to her a long-stemmed rose fashioned entirely of ice.
Mouth agape, she accepted his gift, stared down at it admiringly. "It's . . . beautiful." She cocked her head to the side, examining it more carefully. "It's a perfect replica." She looked up at him then, her admiration evident. "So that's why you weren't burned in the car fire. You somehow manipulated the moisture in the air to create a protective coating of ice?" she postulated.
"Not exactly, but you're close." He rose to his feet and walked about a yard in front of her, turned to face her. He extended his arms to the side and concentrated, transforming into his ice-form. "When my powers first manifested back when I was a kid, I coated myself with a layer of snow. I sorta looked like Frosty with boots," he explained. "As I got older, and learned to control my powers, I covered my body with a layer of ice, as you suggested. In more recent times, though, with a little push from my colleagues-" the thought of Emma's manipulations when she had taken over his mind still remained bittersweet- "I have since learned to transform my human form into something else."
"When you complete the transformation, do you remain corporeal?" she asked.
"Excuse me?" Lord, she was sounding like Hank all of a sudden.
"Are you tangible?" she clarified, getting up and reaching toward him. She gasped as her hand touched the solid ice that composed his chest. She shivered as she pulled her arm back. "You're cold."
"What'd you expect?"
She chuckled. "Good point." She slowly walked around him, studying him carefully. She watched the way rivulets of mist floated upwards and dissipated. "Wow," she said, noticing that her breath was fogging from being in such close proximity to him. "Cool!" she declared. He laughed, and she suddenly realized her faux pas. "Uhm, no pun intended."
Still laughing, he returned to human form and sat back down.
She resumed her own seat. "May I?" she asked, reaching for his hand.
"Sure."
She took his hand in hers, touching the flesh with her fingertips. This time it was he who shivered. "Are you always this cool?"
"Usually. I rarely sweat, since I can manipulate by body's temperature. My core temp is a little lower than most people's, but only by a few degrees. According to Hank, anyway."
"That makes sense," she said, nodding. "If your temperature became too low, enzymes would stop working, the normal chemical reactions that took place in your body would cease, and you would die."
He found it surprisingly refreshing the way she was approaching her newfound knowledge with a scientist's curiosity.
"What does it feel like?"
"What? Using my powers?"
"Yes, and transforming your body into ice. Does it hurt?"
He shook his head. "Nah, it doesn't hurt. I'm not sure how to describe it."
"Does it feel . . . good?"
"It feels right. Natural." He looked down at her hands, which still held his between them.
"Oh, sorry," she said self-consciously as she released his hand. She pulled hers back into her lap, absently tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.
"That's okay," he said with a smile. "Other than when Hank runs some tests, I don't usually have people asking me about my powers. It's kinda neat."
"To have someone interested, you mean?"
"Yeah. Having someone interested." He looked at her.
She met his gaze and smiled. When he did not look away, she blinked and lowered her eyes.
"So, Doc, you mind if I ask you some questions now?"
"Me? Sure. Though I don't think anything I have to tell you will be quite as interesting."
"I'm just curious. You said there were a lot of little things that made you realize we were mutants. What all were they?"
She grinned. "Well, for starters, there was your lack of burn injuries. There was all the talk about Jean being switched with that other woman-that was a little weird. A bit too sci-fi for my tastes, anyway. Then there was your strange request for a blood sample. I tried to make myself believe your rationalization that the MD/PhD you had on staff at the school had genetic records of all the teachers-though, again, that was a bit too Gattaca for me. I take it it was Hank who analyzed the sample?"
Bobby nodded. "Anything else?"
"Well, there was also the . . . unusual appearance of your friends. Ororo, with her white hair and blue eyes. Scott, who wore sunglasses indoors, even at night. That struck me as a little odd, the first time I met him and Jean last summer. And then meeting Hank just a little while ago, who has already 'come out' as it were as being a mutant, pretty much cinched it for me."
"Wow, that's pretty good detective work on your part, Doc. I'm impressed."
She shrugged. "Elementary, my dear Watson. No big stretch of the imagination. Mostly observation. So, is everyone I've met so far a mutant? What are their powers?"
He grinned at her enthusiasm, but hesitated to reply.
"Oh, I'm sorry." She had the good graces to blush. "Aw geez, is that like asking someone's bra size? I didn't mean to be rude."
He laughed. "No, it's not that. It's usually one of the first things we inquire about when we meet a new mutant, along with their name and favorite color. It's just, given the situation here, I don't think it's my place."
She nodded knowingly. "They're not your secrets to tell."
"Exactly. You're not, uh, mad at me, are you?"
"Not at all. It's you who should be put off by me, being so nosey. Sorry, I'm just inquisitive by nature. Goes along with the science background."
"Oh, believe me, I understand. I've known Hank since we were kids. And no one's more curious than that guy. His parents should have named him George."
She smiled. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trusting me enough to share your secret with me. It means a lot."
"Hey, no big deal."
"Yes, it is. I just want you to know that I realize that. And I won't let you down."
He nodded. "I know."
They sat together, and this time the silence was comfortable.
"Well," she said finally, as she rose, "I should get going."
"And I should probably get downstairs and see if I can lend a hand," he said, also rising. "I'll walk you out." Together they returned to the stone path that led back toward the mansion.
"I heard from Dr. Philips that the dental records weren't a match. Any luck in locating Jean?"
He shook his head. "None yet. That's why Emma's here-we're hoping she can help."
"With all the connections she's got from her company, Frost Enterprises?"
"Doc. . . ." His tone was warning.
"I know, I know. I'm sorry. I just couldn't resist. 'Hi, I'm Emma Frost. Of Frost Enterprises. It's an escort service for high-paying businessmen. We specialize in S and M.' " Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oops, did I say that? I don't know what came over me."
Bobby could not help but laugh. "You're bad, Doc. Really bad. That's what I like about you." They entered the kitchen, and made their way back to the main foyer. They stopped in front of the door, and stood facing each other.
"If there's anything else I can do, some way I can help you find Jean, just let me know, okay?"
"I will. Thanks again for returning my mom's earrings."
"No problem. You take care of yourself, Drake." She held out her hand.
He clasped it in his own while meeting her eyes. "You too, Doc." He held her gaze for several long moments before finally reaching to open the door for her.
She descended the front steps. "Next time you hurt yourself saving the world, feel free to stop by," she called before climbing into her car. "I'll patch you up." With a final wave, she drove around the circle and down the drive, making a right onto Greymalkin Lane.
End Chapter 17