A Friend in Need III: Crash and Burn
By Somogyi
Chapter 21
As the others traveled to the ground via an ice-slide, Storm used a self-generated wind to alight on the rooftop of the bus station. Around her, torrents of rain and hail pelted down on ground, vehicles, and people alike. She summoned a thick fog as well, creating as many hazardous weather conditions as she could manage to slow the Marauders' escape.
Cape and long white hair billowing around her slender form, Storm walked toward the edge of the roof. She could barely make out the form of Wolverine, jumping off of the ice-slide onto the top of a parked bus. She was just about to scan the remainder of the parking lot when a clap of thunder boomed. The barely-masked ch-chink of a gun being primed alerted her to the presence of someone behind her; the disruption to the air currents generated by the action confirmed it.
Just as the gun discharged, Storm leapt off the roof, commanding the wind currents to raise her high into the air and keep her aloft. The beam from the energy weapon flew past her feet, never making contact.
She gazed down at the opposite end of the rooftop, saw Scalphunter raising his gun to target her once more. He had shed the trench coat, and the cybernetic parts that composed the majority of his body glistened as the rain poured down.
Storm easily evaded the next salvo from the plasma rifle by dodging left, right, then down.
"Hold still, Weather Witch, an' let me put you out of your misery already!" he shouted, his voice largely swallowed by the roar of the wind. From the glint in his eyes, the malevolent grin curling his lips, he evidently had murder in his heart.
"Better get back inside before you rust!" Storm called back, sending a barrage of golf ball-sized hail to pelt him mercilessly.
He fell to his knees, seemingly disoriented. But then he suddenly reached behind him, pulling a small pistol from a shoulder holster. In one fluid motion, he had fired half a dozen rounds at her.
She barely reacted in time. As it was, one bullet grazed her left shoulder. The shock of the impact sent her spiraling downward.
Storm quickly managed to stop her descent. Ignoring the sharp pain of her wound, she commanded the wind to right her body. Gazing upward, she could see Scalphunter peering over the edge of the roof, a large grin plastered across his face.
Gritting her teeth, Storm leaned forward and down, out of his visibility range, and flew quickly to the other side of the building. As her anger grew, thunder rumbled, and the wind thrashed around the Marauder. She rose into the sky from behind the other side of the roof, her eyes having gone white, her brow furrowed in fury.
Scalphunter spun around, guns at the ready.
"Funny thing about metal," she said, raising a hand toward her opponent. "It conducts electricity." As if called from the very heavens itself, a bolt of lightning appeared mere yards in front of her, striking Scalphunter square in the chest.
Current coursed through his mechanical parts, frying circuits, shorting out the servo-motors that allowed movement. Pain coursed through his trembling body as his joints fused in their current positions. His eyes rolled backward, even as he fell down face-forward, weapons still clutched in rigid fingers, body smoking.
As they approached the main entrance to the bus station, Cyclops signaled to Jubilee. "This is our stop."
He jumped off of the ice-slide, and turned to help her dismount. There was no need; she used the momentum from sliding down a valley in the ice like a ski jump, propelling herself high enough into the air to do a somersault. She landed on her feet with the grace of a gymnast-which, he had to remind himself, she had been for most of her life. He gave her a curt nod, and she could not help but smile at what she recognized as his gesture of approval.
Cable, you and Iceman go in the back way. Jubilee and I'll take the front.
With a wave, the other men continued around the side of the building.
"Where to, Cyke?" Jubilee asked, following him up the front steps into the bus station.
"Jean last contacted Cable from the food court," he replied, coming up short in the entrance area. "We just have to figure out where-"
"My guess is that way," Jubilee said, pointing toward the corridor where dozens of people were running from, shouting in panic.
"Let's go!" Cyclops said, dodging people as he sprinted through the crowd, ignoring startled gasps and frightened screams. "Just keep an eye out for Marauders. They all may not have left yet."
"What do these goons look like?"
"Believe me, you can't miss 'em."
Jubilee came up short behind Cyclops, who had stopped to survey the damage in the food court. Moving slowly forward, she peered around his side.
"Jesus! It looks like World War III in here," she muttered, taking in the uprooted tables and chairs, the cracked walls, dented counters. "That, or the Danger Room after we're through with it."
She watched as Cyclops knelt down, pushing aside an upturned trash can. His gloved fingers lightly touched a small puddle.
"That ain't ketchup, is it?" Jubilee asked, approaching.
"No, it's blood. Still pretty fresh."
She hesitated, unable to voice the next obvious question: Whose?
Jubilee looked at Cyclops. For most people, his face was largely unreadable with his eyes hidden behind his visor. But during the months she had been staying with Jean and Scott, Jubilee began to learn how to interpret his expressions. She felt she had gotten to know him pretty well, a bond formed during some emotionally trying times for all of them. Seeing the clench of his jaw, she knew he was deeply upset; he was trying his damnedest not to appear frightened. She wondered absently if this was how he had felt that evening months ago when he returned to the house, looking for Jean and her, and had instead found a pool of blood in the kitchen, with a trail leading back to the master bedroom. She shuddered, recalling similar images from some of her own worst nightmares.
"I- I'm sure Jean got in some licks before they caught her," she suggested softly, placing a light hand on his shoulder.
He said nothing as he rose to his full height, grim determination filling his face. "We'll find out soon enough. Let's backtrack, and see-"
"Hey Scott," Jubilee interrupted, staring past him at something across the food court. "One of these guys wouldn't happen to be a short, beefy Native American-looking guy?"
"One of the Marauders is an Inuit named Harpoon," he replied, following her gaze. "I don't see him."
"They just ducked down that corridor," she said, pointing.
" 'They'?"
"He was carrying someone over his shoulder. Looked like a woman. Unconscious."
"Lead the way."
Together, they took off across the food court. They paused on either side of the dark passageway Jubilee had indicated. From the signs posted, it appeared to be some sort of private entrance for employees, though what the corridor accessed was unclear. Jubilee looked over to Cyclops, awaiting his orders. He gestured, and she nodded in understanding.
Time to shed some light on the situation, she thought, raising a hand to emit bright plasmoids for a torch-like effect. They caught sight of a shadow as their quarry rounded a corner.
"C'mon, he's getting away!" Jubilee shouted, giving chase. She was about to make a right at the bend when she heard Cyclops shout a warning. It sounded suspiciously like 'Duck!'
His command barely registered, but she obeyed, leaping low across the width of the corridor. As it was, a bolt of energy whizzed mere inches above her head, singeing her eyebrows. She tucked and rolled, slamming less-than-gracefully into the far wall.
"You okay?" Cyclops called in a loud whisper as his back hugged the wall on the opposite side of the hallway.
She nodded. "What the hell was that?"
"His power is to transform metal harpoons into energy."
"Guess I should have realized that from the name. Now what? You wanna blast 'em?"
"No. I don't want to take a chance on hitting Jean."
"Then I'll flash 'em. Worst that'll happen is she'll get blinded in the crossfire."
Slowly, he nodded. He did not see a better alternative. "Be careful."
"I will." Leaning her head back against the wall, she lowered her shades and took a deep, calming breath, steeling her nerve. A moment later, she launched herself forward and to the left. She paused in the center of the corridor, raised both arms in front of her, palms-outward, and let loose with a volley of colorful fireworks. "Eat plasma, dirtwad!" she spat, launching another salvo for good measure. She crouched low then, ready to leap to safety if fired upon.
But nothing happened. There was no retaliation. As the plasmoids dissipated, she could make out a lone form laying on the floor half-way down the passageway. It was too small to be Harpoon. "Jean. . . ?" she whispered.
She started to take a hesitant step forward, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"What happened?" Cyclops whispered.
"Dunno. Think I got him?"
"Too easy."
"Probably. But we've gotta go see if Jean's okay."
"Why would he leave her behind?" Cyclops wondered aloud as they slowly crept toward the prone form. It took all of his self-control not to run to her.
"Maybe I did hit him," Jubilee posited.
As they drew closer, she saw that the figure was clad in jeans and a worn army jacket. Her hair was tucked into a baseball cap, and her face turned away from them. Jubilee reached a trembling hand toward the woman's shoulder.
The silence was suddenly pierced by a sharp war cry. Before Jubilee even realized what was happening, someone leapt over the body and her head, colliding with Cyclops at waist level. Together, they tumbled backwards and out of view.
"Scott!" she shouted, getting to her feet. She could hear the sound of his optic blasts being fired, as well as a crackling she now came to associate with Harpoon's unique energy manifestation. She was about to follow them when a low moan caught her attention.
"Oh God . . . Jean, are you okay?" she asked, once again kneeling before the woman, who was now stirring. She reached to help her sit up.
Grasping onto Jubilee's arm for support, the woman brought herself to a sitting position. The cap, which was slung low, shadowed her face.
"Jean, it's Jubilee. Are you hurt?"
As the woman raised her head and Jubilee caught sight of the unfamiliar face, she gasped. A sense of déjà vu washed over her at the memory of being duped by Tessa a year earlier. It was quickly replaced by a feeling of vertigo stronger than any she had ever known. Her stomach lurched and her head spun, leaving her disoriented and nauseous. As she fell back helplessly, she did the only thing she could: she discharged handfuls of fireworks. She heard a yelp of pain and surprise as the woman released her hold on Jubilee. By the time the girl hit the ground, her head had sufficiently cleared so that she could focus on her opponent: the woman sat on the ground, hands covering her eyes.
Jubilee lifted herself onto her elbow, watching the woman carefully. "Where's Jean?"
The woman said nothing as she slowly lowered her hands, eyes blinking rapidly in an attempt to clear her vision.
"Answer me, dammit!" Jubilee spat, trying to get up on wobbly legs. "What did you do with Jean!"
The woman sneered then, gesturing in the direction of Jubilee's voice.
Suddenly, the world began to spin, and Jubilee fell to her knees, unable to determine which end was up. She tried to release another round of plasmoids, but had no idea in which direction her enemy lay.
Her vision graying, Jubilee thought she heard a familiar Zark! followed almost immediately by a scream of pain and a loud Thunk!
Lifting her shades, she glanced across the corridor. The woman lay slumped against the far wall, a huge crack in the plaster above her head where she had evidently impacted.
A moment later, Cyclops was crouching beside her. He placed a hand on her back. "You okay?"
Slowly, she nodded, though the movement made her stomach reel. "I- I could'a taken her. . . ."
He smiled then at her bravado. "It's all about teamwork, kiddo."
"Harpoon. . . ?" she asked, glancing toward the T-junction.
"Is buried beneath a pile of drywall, plaster, and cement."
"Damn, Cyke, you don't crap around anymore, do you?" She glanced up at the female Marauder's prone form, which was still save for the shallow movement of her chest. "You musta hit that bitch square in the chest."
"I don't want Sinister or his flunkies hurting my family any more," he replied simply. "Can you stand?"
"Th-think so. . . ." She grasped his hand tightly as she shakily got to her feet.
"Easy does it," he said, placing a steadying hand on her waist.
Feeling lightheaded from the change in posture, she felt her knees buckle.
"Or maybe not," she murmured as he helped her sit back down again.
"Put your head between your knees," he instructed her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, even as she did as told.
"Don't be," he told her, gently rubbing her back. "That's what Vertigo's power does. No one's immune. Not me or you-not even Wolverine."
"You were right, Scott," she admitted softly, fighting back tears. "I shoulda stayed on the plane. I'm just slowin' you down."
"You're kidding, right? Jubilee, we never would have gotten close enough to take down Harpoon and Vertigo if you hadn't been here. We did this together-"
Cyclops, Wolverine spotted Jean, Cable's mental voice boomed in his head.
Where?
Parking lot. He may need backup.
On my way. Cyclops looked down at Jubilee. "Logan's tracking Jean in the parking lot."
"Go," she told him. "I'll be fine. Just go get Jean back."
Nodding, he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before rising and sprinting down the corridor back the way they had come.
"I'll be right behind you," she muttered to herself. "Just as soon as I get my sea legs back. . . ."
After dropping Cyclops and Jubilee off at the main entrance, Iceman and Cable continued around the side of the bus station, riding the slide until they came to the rear entry. Cable dismounted, but rather than follow Iceman toward the doorway, headed in the opposite direction.
"Cable! Where are you going? Cyke wanted us to check out the station."
"Go ahead," he called back. "I'm heading for the parking lot."
"But I thought Wolverine-" It was no use, however; Cable had already disappeared from site. Bobby shook his head. For a Summers, he sure has a problem following orders. With a shrug, he continued on his original course into the bus station.
He had not gotten very far when he encountered a group of teenaged girls, shrieking loudly as they ran toward the exit. One was holding her arm, another limping, a third grasping her side-all bleeding from cuts beneath torn clothing.
What the hell?
"Run!" one girl shouted to people she passed.
"He's crazy!"
That sounds like a good place to start. Pointing toward his feet, he generated a new ice-slide to carry him in the direction from which the girls had been fleeing. He had traveled less than twenty feet when he noticed a strong wind blowing across the station. He paused, hovering in mid-air, searching for the source, even as he began to freeze the moisture in the air surrounding his form.
A mad cackling was the only warning before a dozen sharp metal objects flew through the air towards him. Luckily, he had been in the process of bulking up his ice-form with a thick layer of ice armor-complete with helmet and stalactite-like spikes jutting from shoulders, arms, back and torso-along with a hand-held shield two feet in diameter. The majority of projectiles struck his ice slide, with the balance embedding in the quickly-raised shield. While generating more ice with one hand to stabilize the slide, he quickly turned and gestured with the other in the direction the objects originated from, freezing them before they could hit another unsuspecting target.
Now, though, he knew exactly who he was looking for. He spotted the Marauder about thirty feet away, his tornado-like form hovering in front of a bank of windows. The villain looked rather frustrated. "You got some new tricks up your sleeve, eh, Frosty? Who do you think you are, Sir Ice-a-lot?"
"Some of us are like good wine, Riptide-we just get better with age," Bobby retorted, slowly approaching on an ice-slide. "You, on the other hand, haven't changed-same old tricks, same murderous ways. Oh, and you still talk too much."
"Pot callin' the kettle black, eh, boy? How about a game of catch?" He began to launch his metal stars one at a time, gradually increasing the frequency.
Iceman made quick work of the first few, freezing them before they even got near him. Soon, however, he had to move left, right, up, down to reach all of the projectiles. It was slightly more challenging, but not too impossible. "Geez, Rip, I haven't had this much fun since I played Ka-boom on the ole Atari as a kid!"
The Marauder's eyes narrowed. "Time for a new game, kid. It's called pin the spike on the crowd." With an evil grin, he dispatched another round of weapons in a one-hundred-eighty degree arc. The line of fire included several groups of innocent bystanders scattered throughout the bus station.
Iceman immediately sprung into action. On the far right was a bank of windows leading to the parking lot; he decided to let that go in hopes that people would steer clear of the shattering glass. To the far left was an elderly couple and a family with several small children. Iceman pointed toward them, erecting an ice-barrier that stood eight feet high to intercept the projectiles. He extended the shield toward him to protect those standing behind him. He was not fast enough, however, and several metallic barbs whizzed past him. He spun quickly, pointing toward each in turn, freezing them before they could strike. As the third and final ice-encrusted spike clattered at the feet of a little boy, he sighed in relief.
He turned back to Riptide, who looked suitably enraged. It was only then that he noticed the laceration on the Marauder's cheek, and the blood that was streaming from it.
"What happened, Rip-you cut yourself shaving?"
"Your little friend, Red, tried to stop me from having some fun with the crowd earlier," he replied, spinning closer. "Don't worry, though-Scrambler made her scream but good. Bitch had it coming, ya ask me," he added with a devilish wink.
Hearing the villain speak so callously about the pain inflicted on Jean-deliberately-made Bobby's blood boil. "Where is she?" he demanded.
"Ooo, hit a nerve, did I?"
"Answer me, dammit! Where did you take Jeanie?"
Riptide chuckled. "That's for me to know, and you not to find out," he taunted.
"Tell me, you son of a bitch! Tell me where she is, or so help me-!"
"Or what? Ya gonna give me frostbite? Hit me with a snowball? Don't waste yer breath, kid-we both know your kind don't have the balls to do any worse than that."
Never before had Bobby so wanted to lash out, to literally beat the life out of another human being. He wanted to make this man pay-for all the innocent people he had killed or maimed in his criminal career, for hurting Jean, for rubbing his face in it now. Surely the world would be a better place with one less murderer in it.
Eyes narrowing, he glared at Riptide, raising his hand, focusing his power.
"What're ya doin', Frosty, tryin' ta give me the evil eye? You some kind of telepath now?"
Iceman said nothing, clenching his fist, concentrating on the water molecules in the Marauder's body. Like every other person-human or mutant-seventy percent of Riptide's body was composed of that precious substance.
"Wh-what's happening?" His body's spinning decreased gradually, until he was no longer able to maintain the effect. His limbs felt heavy, leaden. He began to shiver. "C-cold. . . . wh-what . . . 'r . . . doin' . . . ta . . . me. . . ?"
Iceman had begun to freeze the water molecules in his opponent's body. He watched as Riptide struggled to use his mutant powers unsuccessfully. Then Bobby watched as his opponent's breathing became more labored. Riptide's skin became pale, then his lips turned blue as his body temperature dropped precipitously low. He started to gasp, eyes rolling back no doubt as his brain stopped receiving sufficient oxygen.
"P-puh-please. . . ." he begged, eyes rolling up into his head.
Staring at him, Bobby realized how easy it would be to push a little more, to stop Riptide's heart from beating entirely. At that moment, he began to give in to his rage, feeling it wash over him, nearly consuming all rational thought.
But then, somewhere deep inside, a piece of his conscience asserted itself, reminding him of a lesson recently learned: Actions have consequences-ones we have to live with for the rest of our lives. If he took this man's life, he would have to live with that knowledge forever. And as much as he wished it were otherwise at this particular moment in time, Riptide was right about one thing: X-Men do not kill.
Reluctantly, Iceman unclenched his fist, simultaneously releasing his hold on Riptide. The Marauder collapsed onto his side, gasping for air, taking the precious oxygen into his lungs, body shivering as it attempted to raise his core body temperature.
Bobby walked over to him, staring down at the prone form. "Today's your lucky day, Rip. A week ago, I would have let you die. Today, though, I decided to let you live. You have Jeanie to thank for that, actually." He gestured downward, forming ice-shackles around his opponent's wrists and ankles. "Now, though, you're gonna rot in prison. You do the crime, ya gotta pay the time." He added an ice gag for good measure.
"Iceman!"
At the sound of his codename, Bobby turned, saw Jubilee jogging toward him. She looked a little unsteady on her feet.
"Did I miss some fun?" she asked.
"Nah, just tying up some trash. How about you?"
"Cyke and I had a little run-in with Harpoon and Vertigo. They're down for the count."
"Hope you gave as good as you got," he said, taking in her pale complexion and sweat-soaked hair.
"I feel much better now that I yarfed."
"Geez, thanks for sharing," Bobby muttered as he reverted to human form. Now that the adrenaline rush was fading, he felt completely wiped. "So where's Cyke?"
"Cable gave a mental shout. Said Wolvie found Jean in the parking lot."
"What? When?"
"'Bout five minutes ago. Didn't you get the message too?"
"Nope. Seems ole Nathan doesn't think very highly of me. And to think I used to help change his dirty diapers. We gotta go see if they need help-" Bobby turned to leave, but the movement sent a sharp pain slicing across his chest, making him double over.
"Forget it, Drake. You can't even stand up straight, an' my stomach's still doin' loop-de-loops. Let's get back to the 'Bird before we both fall down."
"But-"
"We both did our part to help. It's up to the others now. That's what the X-Men are about, right? Teamwork."
He regarded her for a moment as he considered. Truth was, he had pushed himself too hard during his battle with Riptide. He doubted he could create another ice-slide, let along ride one to the parking lot. And the kid looked dead on her feet.
"All right," he conceded. "We can update Hank and get the prisoners secured."
"Need a hand?" Jubilee asked, slipping beneath one of Bobby's arms to help hold him up.
"Yeah, thanks," he replied, grateful for the extra support. "No yarfing on my shoes, though."
Wolverine was already on the move. With a running start, he leapt from one bus to another, the density of his adamantium-laced skeleton causing him to leave a sizable dent in the roof. He had barely come to a halt before he took to the air again, jumping to the adjacent vehicle. He repeated the motion three more times, until he came to end of the row of buses. By then, a thick fog had rolled in across the parking lot, and he could barely discern that two figures were on the move, one of them holding an unconscious form slumped over a shoulder. They were heading for the chain-link fence at the edge of the parking lot. He had to end this quick-before Jeanie got hurt, before they got reinforcements, or reached some sort of transport.
Protracting his claws, Wolverine sprung. He hit the ground hard, but immediately bounded forward, barely losing a beat. As he headed toward the pair of villains, he was able to identify them by scent. Marauders.
They came up short in front of the fence. It was about eight feet high, trimmed with barbed wire. There was not a gate in sight.
"Now what?" Scrambler was out of breath, anxious.
"Now ya give back what don't belong to you!"
The duo turned toward the gravelly shout.
"Wolverine!" Scrambler gasped, his eyes widening in horror.
"Forget it, shrimp!" the other Marauder shouted pompously. "Red's comin' with us. And there ain't nothin' you can do about it!"
Growling in rage, Wolverine crouched down, began to approach.
"Arclight!" her teammate spat. "He can tear us both in half!"
"You, maybe, but he'll never get that close," she told him as she passed Jean to him.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Grunting, he nearly stumbled under the weight of his new burden.
"He won't attack us-not if there's a chance of Red gettin' cut in the crossfire."
"Yeah, but there's no way I'm climbing this fence-not while toting this sack of potatoes."
"Let me make it simple, then." Grasping the fence linking near a pole, she pulled. The panel tugged away, creating a man-sized hole through which Scrambler could easily fit-even with his added load. "Get goin', then. I'll hold him off."
"See ya on the other side, Arc," he said, slipping through the break in the fence and sprinting toward the trees.
Wolverine chose that moment to attack. Arclight stepped in front of the hole in the fence. Just as Wolverine came at her, claws first, she dropped to the ground, belting him in the stomach. It sent him flying off course, toward the side of a bus. His body made a man-sized dent in the siding, and it took him a few seconds to get his bearings. Just as he got to his feet, he saw Arclight rushing toward him, ready to tackle him.
Without warning, a crimson beam cut through the rain, tagging the Marauder in the side. Grunting, she was propelled sideways, colliding with the side of the bus, disappearing as the metal and glass gave way beneath the force of her impact.
Wolverine looked up as Cyclops rounded the far side of the bus. "Where is she?"
From his tone, Logan knew he was not asking about their opponent. "Scrambler has her. He headed for the woods." He jerked a thumb in the direction of the fence.
Just then, Arclight emerged from the bus. Her coat was in tatters, and she shrugged it off, revealing her silver body armor. She looked quite pissed off.
"Get goin', Cyke."
"What about you-?"
"Go! I'll handle the Amazon."
With a curt nod of the head, Cyclops was off and running.
"You gonna cut me, Short Stuff?" Arclight taunted. "You've gotta catch me first."
Growling, Wolverine took up a fighting stance. The Marauder likewise raised her fists, bending down. They started to circle one another. Above them, thunder boomed.
"What's it gonna be, Canuck? C'mon, now, I've seen more action from a Hibachi chef!"
Lightning crashed just as Wolverine launched himself. Arclight dodged his assault easily, spinning on the balls of her feet to face him once again. Seeing him with his claws embedded in the side of a bus, she laughed. "Is that the best you can do, Pipsqueak?"
"Who said it was you I was aimin' for?"
She gazed at him in stupefaction just as the wind began to pick up. Literally.
In mere seconds, a veritable tornado had descended into the parking lot, with Arclight as its touch-down point. Before she could even scream in protest, she was caught up by the twister, and carried spinning into the air.
Wolverine, body buffeted by the gale, remained anchored to the bus by his claws. He watched as the Marauder was lifted over a hundred feet in the air. "Sayonara, witch!" he called as the tornado abruptly released her. She plummeted to the ground, and landed on top of a nearby bus with a resounding boom.
Just as quickly as the tornado had appeared, it was gone. With the massive winds dissipated, Wolverine was able to regain his footing. He had just finished cutting a large strip of metal from the side of the bus when he felt a much less powerful gust of wind.
"She out for the count?" he called up, over his shoulder.
"Yes," Storm replied, riding the air currents above the bus.
"Good work, 'Ro," he said, carrying the metal band over to the Marauder's prone form. He wrapped her in it, the metal cocoon serving as a makeshift restraining devise. "That should hold her for a while."
"Which way was Jean taken?" Storm asked as she alighted beside him.
Smelling blood, he looked up at her. He saw immediately the way she held her left arm immobile. He got to his feet and was quickly by her side, looking at her arm. Blood had been flowing from her shoulder, onto her forearm. Some was splattered onto her neck and cheek. "You're hurt."
"It is nothing," she replied. "We need to-"
"The slug still in you?" he asked, grabbing the end of her cape and using his claw to remove a strip of cloth.
"It is but a flesh wound. I will be fine, Logan. We need to help Jean." She took a step forward, and faltered.
"Easy does it," he said, his tone gentle, as he placed a steadying hand around her waist. He pressed the makeshift bandage against her shoulder, and she winced. "You need to get back to the plane, 'Ro. You've lost a lot of blood. That twister took a lot out of you, too. You can barely stay on your feet."
"But-"
"I'll go follow Cyke. You let McCoy patch you up," he told her as he placed her right hand on top of the bandage. "Keep applying pressure to stop the bleeding. Can you make it back by yourself?"
"Do not concern yourself with me. Just go."
"Don't worry, 'Roro. I ain't comin' back without Jeanie."
Pausing only long enough to see her nod as she met his eyes, Wolverine sprinted toward the fence, slipping through the tear, and disappeared into the forest.
Scrambler had barely made it a few yards past the fence when, winded, he had to stop. He looked down at Phoenix's unconscious form, considering. With a grunt, he hoisted her onto his shoulder in a fireman's carry and took off across a large grass field, heading for the trees.
The further he ran from the parking lot, the lighter the rain. By the time he had approached the edge of the woods, the ground looked dry as a bone.
Damned meddling Weather-Witch. Thinks she's so powerful. Can't even keep up a go- "Ooof!" The breath was literally knocked from his lungs as he collided face-first into a firm, thick, unmoving object.
Stumbling backwards, he barely managed to stay on his feet and not drop his load. He was cursing himself for somehow managing to run straight into a tree when he looked ahead-straight into the chest of a massive man.
"What the hell?" He could have sworn that the path had been clear ahead of him.
"All it took was a simple psychic suggestion to make you think that the path was clear, when actually you were heading in my direction," the man told him.
Scrambler shifted Jean's body so that he could hold it in place with one arm. He took a step closer, and quickly extended his free arm so that his fingers touched the bare flesh of the man's right arm. When nothing happened, he looked up in confusion.
"Oh, did I forget to mention that I'm also a telekinetic? Creating a tk-shield effectively blocks your powers, Scrambler. Now, what's it gonna be-the easy way or the hard way?" he asked, holding out his arms to take Jean from the Marauder.
"You've gotta be kiddin' me, right?" Scrambler said, backing away. "I give her to you, my boss kills me. I fight you, she might get hurt-which will make you and my boss angry."
"Sounds like a no-win situation, Scrambler," the man said, taking a step toward him.
"Hold it!" the villain shouted, moving a hand toward his captive. "You come one step closer, and I'll brain-fry her. Don't matter to the boss-she'll still serve her purpose. Hell, it'll probably make her easier to manage." He felt Jean begin to stir.
He saw the man's fists clench at his sides even as his left eye began to glow. It was only then that he realized that the man's left arm was composed of metal.
"Oh shit. You . . . you're Cable. You're Nathan Summers."
Cable grinned. "Give the man a prize. Sinister sure is growing 'em dumb lately."
"You were to be his perfect creation. Would have been, if not for Apocalypse. You became . . . tainted." His eyes lowered to Cable's techno-organic limb. "You were a failure."
"Oh, stop, please, before you make me cry," Cable said dryly, rolling his eyes.
"It will not happen again. Phoenix holds the key to-urgh!" There was a flash of telekinetically-enhanced movement, and Scrambler staggered. Wide-eyed and slack-mouthed, he tried to speak, but a thin trickle of blood ran out the corner of his mouth. A moment later, he crumpled to the ground, taking Jean with him.
As Cable moved toward them, he saw the metal handle of a knife protruding from Scrambler's back. From the angle, it looked to have been inserted between ribs and into his heart.
From where she lay, her legs tangled beneath her would-be kidnapper's still arms, Jean stared at the Marauder in disgust. "The only key I hold is to your demise!" she spat. "Stay away from me! Stay away from my family!"
Cable quickly pushed Scrambler aside to free Phoenix. "Jean?"
She looked up at him, and her face immediately softened. "Nate," she whispered.
He knelt down beside her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. "Are you all right?" he asked.
"I . . . I think so. . . ." She shivered. "Good thing I still had that knife in my pocket from the diner."
"I'll say. Nice shot."
Just then there came the sound of someone running through the woods. Jean felt Nathan's arm wrap around her protectively, even as he pulled a large energy weapon from a holster on his back. A moment later, she felt his tension dissipate. "We're over here!" he called.
A familiar figure emerged from the trees. The moment he spotted them, an enormous grin split his face. "Jean!" came her husband's shout.
In mere heartbeats, he closed the distance between them. He dropped to his knees and she reached for him. He took her into his arms, holding her tightly.
She clung to him, burying her face in his neck. "Oh Scott," she cried, her shoulders shaking with relief. "Oh God, Scott." He could feel her trembling against him even as her hot tears soaked his skin.
"Shh," he soothed, stroking her head. "It's okay. I've got you. You're safe now. You're safe."
"I- I was afraid this nightmare was never going to end," she whispered, still shaking.
"It's over, love," he said, placing a soft kiss on her temple. "You don't have to worry any more. We won't let them hurt you."
He felt her nod. "As scared as I was, I never gave up hope." She pulled back to gaze into Scott's face, her eyes shining with love. "I knew you'd find me. I knew you'd both find me," she said, reaching to grasp Nathan's hand. He gave it a quick squeeze.
"You did most of the work," Cable told her. "We just followed the trail of breadcrumbs."
Jean made a derisive snort.
"Are you okay?" Scott asked, reaching to gently cup her cheek. "Did they hurt you?"
"I've got the mother of all headaches," she muttered, closing her eyes as she leaned into his touch. "A side-effect of Scrambler's powers. . . ." She gazed over at him. Cable had turned him over in his haste to free her. The Marauder's vacant eyes pointed heavenward.
"He's dead," Nathan pronounced.
"Where have I heard that one before?" Jean wondered aloud.
"Otherwise, you're sure you're okay?" Scott asked, tenderly brushing her wet hair off of her face. "What about the baby? Did Sinister-?"
"He didn't hurt us, Scott. As far as I can tell, the baby's fine." She took his hand and lay his palm on her belly.
She felt the feather-light brush of his lips just above her brow. Smiling through her tears, Jean rested her forehead against his, and took the opportunity to re-establish their psychic rapport. Scott offered her a mental caress of reassurance.
"God, I was so worried about you," he said aloud, taking her hands in his. He brought each to his mouth in turn, pressing his lips to her knuckles almost reverently.
Jean felt her heart swell from that simple gesture. Tears pooled in her eyes before spilling onto her cheeks. Seeing the look of concern on Scott's face, Jean quickly wrapped her arms around his neck in reassurance. "I'm just relieved it's finally over," she whispered, hugging him tightly.
"And I'm so glad you're all right," he murmured, enjoying the familiar feel of her embrace.
"I still want Hank to check me out, make sure everything's okay-especially after Scrambler. . . ." She shivered, stealing another glance in his direction. "Can we get out of here? I want to be as far away from this place as possible."
"Let's get you back to the Blackbird," Scott said, lifting Jean in his arms. "We'll get you out of those wet clothes, into something dry and warm." He looked toward his son. "Nathan. . . ?"
"I'll handle it," Nathan replied, inclining his head toward the body. "Don't worry about it. Just go take care of Jean."
"Thank you," Scott and Jean said at the same time.
Nathan smiled as he waved them off.
"I feel like I could sleep a week," Jean murmured, leaning her head against Scott's shoulder as he backtracked through the woods.
"Looks like I'm late for the party," Wolverine called as he emerged from the trees. He walked over to them and smiled. "Hey Red."
"Hi, Logan," she replied, reaching out to take his hand. "Thanks for your help."
"Anytime, Jeanie," he said, running his thumb across her fingers briefly. "Anytime." He looked up at Scott. "Where'd Cable get to?"
"He's back about a quarter of a mile, with Scrambler's body."
"Unconscious?"
"Dead," Jean said.
Logan's eyebrow rose. "Good. I'm gonna go see if Cable needs a hand. Go get some rest, Jeanie. When you're feelin' better, I can't wait to hear how you escaped." With a nod, he headed back the way they had come.
"That's a story I wouldn't mind hearing myself," Scott said as he continued walking.
He sensed her sudden alarm through their rapport. "Jean, what's wrong?"
"Oh God, Scott, I nearly forgot. Isabella! We have to go help Isabella!"
"Who's Isabella?"
"She worked for Dr. Gauche-for Sinister. But only because he forced her to. She had no idea who he really was. It was only because of her that I was able to get away. I promised her that we'd go back for her."
"Do you even know the location of where you were being held?"
"I have a general idea. Scott, please, we have to help her. Lord only knows what Sinister will do to her when he finds out-"
"Take it easy, Jean. We'll check it out-I promise. But right now, my first priority is making sure you and the baby are out of harm's way. Okay?"
"Okay."
Less than ten minutes later, they were approaching the Blackbird. Jubilee was waiting for them.
"Jean!" she cried, hurrying over. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine, sweetie," Jean replied, reaching out to cup the girl's cheek. "I didn't realize you were here."
"Well, I thought Scott could use someone to watch his back."
Jean managed a weary laugh.
"C'mon," Jubilee beckoned. "I'll go grab some blankets." She scurried up the ramp ahead of them to get things ready.
Scott carried Jean inside the plane and brought her to one of the gurneys in the back.
"Jean!" Ororo had been sitting on the adjacent gurney while Hank placed her bandaged arm in a sling. As soon as he finished, she was on her feet.
Smiling, Jean gladly accepted Storm's warm embrace. "What happened to you?"
"A minor wound. But what about you? Are you well?"
"I'm fine, Ororo. Much better now that I'm going home." She looked up at Hank, who smiled down at her. "Hey, Blue."
"Jeanie," he replied, gracing her with an enormous smile. "No wounds that require immediate attention?"
"Nope," she said, shaking her head.
He sighed. "Good. Then I shall return to the cockpit posthaste." Clasping Scott on the shoulder, he took his leave.
"I shall go see if Henry requires any assistance," Ororo said. "I am glad you are home, safe and sound, my friend."
"Me, too, Ororo. Thank you."
"Let's ditch this coat," Scott told Jean, helping her remove the drenched garment, along with the cardigan.
"Nice threads," Jubilee remarked, catching sight of the waitress uniform. "Don't tell me the dude had you waiting tables."
"It's a long story," Jean replied, accepting the towel Jubilee offered to dry her hair and face.
"Which can wait until tomorrow," Scott said, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders.
"Thanks, hon."
"Jubilee, would you mind asking Hank if he's had any word from Nate or Logan?"
"You got it, Cyke. I'll talk to you later, Jean."
"Okay. Thanks, sweetie." Once the girl was out of earshot, Jean looked at her husband. "You trying to get rid of everyone?"
"No, I just want you to get some rest. Hard to do that with everyone hovering around. How about you lie down, try to get some sleep?"
She smiled at him. "Will you stay with me?"
"Of course," he replied, bending to place a soft kiss on her lips. He then reached to remove the one remaining shoe she was wearing before helping her to lift her legs onto the gurney. He tucked the blanket around her. "How's your headache?" he asked, gently stroking her hair.
"Still there."
"Bad?"
"I've had worse."
"Let me go check with Hank, see if he has anything here that's safe for you to take. I'll be right back." He placed a kiss on her temple.
"Okay, thanks," she mumbled sleepily, closing her eyes as she nestled beneath the scratchy fabric. She almost immediately began to dose.
"Knock knock," came a chipper voice, pulling her back to consciousness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you. . . ."
At the sound of the voice, Jean's face drained of all color. Mouth trembling, she pushed herself up on an elbow as she craned her head to get a better look.
"Hey Jeanie. I know you're probably beat, so I won't stay long. I just wanted to. . . . Geez, did I say something wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Oh my God." Sitting up, Jean brought a trembling hand to her mouth, even as tears brimmed and slid down her cheeks.
"Jeanie, are you okay? Should I go get Hank?"
"I- I don't believe it. . . ."
"Believe what?"
"B-Bobby. . . ?"
"Yeah, Jeanie, it's me. Who were you expecting-Frosty?"
His words only made her cry harder.
"What'd I say?"
"She . . . she told me . . ." Jean managed between the sobs. "It didn't occur to me . . . to doubt it. . . . Even now, I just assumed. . . ." She shook her head. "I thought you were dead."
"Last I checked, I was still alive and kicking."
She laughed through her tears, but could not seem to stop crying.
"Jeanie," Bobby whispered, walking closer. She reached for him tentatively, slowly touched his face with her fingertips. As she stroked his cheek, he winked at her.
She completely lost it then, her face crumbling, her body wracked with sobs.
Not knowing what else to do, Bobby wrapped her in his arms, held her close. "Shh," he soothed, rubbing her back. "It's okay, Jeanie. Don't cry. Please don't cry."
"I can't help it. Oh God, Bobby, I thought you were killed in the accident."
The impact of her words hit him then. "Jeanie, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant for this to happen. Oh God I'm so sorry."
She realized then that he was trembling. She pulled back, regarded him, saw the way his eyes shone. "Bobby, what on earth do you think you have to apologize for?"
"For this-for everything. I'm sorry about the accident. I'm sorry you got hurt. I'm sorry I couldn't stop them from taking you. I'm sorry you had to go through all this-escaping, fighting. If anything had happened to you-to either of you-then I would have died. Because I would never have been able to live with myself."
"Oh Bobby." Jean framed his face with her hands. Never before had she seen him look and sound so dejected. "None of this was your fault, Bobby," she said firmly, forcing him to meet her gaze. "None of it. This was Sinister's doing. If anyone is to blame, it's him. He's a master manipulator, and he's made a career out of making all our lives a living hell. This time, you and I were the lucky recipients of his latest machinations. But you know what?" She slid her hands down to his shoulders, which she gripped firmly. "We beat him. Just like we've done so many times before. And you know what else? Next time he tries to hurt us, we'll beat him again. Because we're stronger than him." She took one of his hands and cradled it between both of her palms. "Because we have what he'll never have: friendship. Loyalty. Love. So rather than sit here feeling sorry for yourself, I want you to channel that emotion. I want you to feel grateful for what you do have. I, for one, am so very thankful right now that you're standing here with me."
She watched as he stared at her, a smile quickly growing across his face. "You know something, Jeanie? You never cease to amaze me. You are one of the most incredible people I've ever known."
Lowering her head, she blushed.
"Only you could take me from feeling sorry for myself to the warm fuzzies in under a minute. I'm so happy that you're here to straighten me out," he said, giving her hand a squeeze.
"Hey, I don't do this for just anyone. You rate pretty high on my special person list."
"How high?"
She thought for a moment. "Single digits."
"You sure that's not just from seniority? I have known you about as long as, say, Scott. And I assume he's at the top of that list, what with that whole marriage thing and all."
"It has nothing to do with precedence. You've earned it all on your own."
"You mean I've merited a title other than class clown? Will wonders never cease. I gotta go call my mom."
She laughed. "I love you, Bobby Drake," she said, wrapping her arms around him.
"I love you too, Jeanie," he whispered, hugging her back.
"Sorry it took so long," came Scott's voice as he approached. "You know how Hank is once you get him start. . ." His voice trailed off as he caught sight of Jean and Bobby. "Er, sorry to interrupt."
Hearing him enter, Jean gave Bobby one final squeeze before ending the embrace. As Bobby pulled back, she could sense his pain, even as she saw the grimace that filled his face.
"Geez, Jeanie, you've got a grip like a steel vise," he muttered, bringing a hand to his torso.
"Oh God. I'm sorry, Bobby. Did I hurt you?"
"My ribs are still a little sore, is all. I think I'm gonna go sit down now," he said, slowly making his way back toward the seating area, still clutching at his chest. "Maybe swallow a bottle or two of Advil."
"You need help?" Scott offered.
"Nah." Bobby waved him off. "I think I can make it. I'm just gonna take baby steps. I'll talk to you guys later."
They both watched as he shuffled down the aisle toward the front of the plane.
Shaking his head, Scott looked at his wife. "You okay?" he asked, reaching to dry her cheeks.
Smiling, she nodded. "Yeah. I am now."
"Unfortunately, we don't have anything for your headache here. Hank suggested you just try to sleep." Scott retrieved a box of tissues. "We should be taking off in a few minutes."
"What about Nate and Logan?" Jean asked before she blew her nose.
"They're on their way back."
"So soon? I thought they had to secure the prisoners."
Scott did not reply as he adjusted the tousled blanket. "Why don't you lay back down, sweetheart?"
"Scott, what is it? What aren't you telling me?"
He hesitated. But ultimately he realized that telling her would be less stressful than trying to keep her in the dark-even if it was for her own protection. "There aren't going to be any prisoners."
"They got away? Why am I not surprised?" With a sigh, she lay down on the gurney. "But what about Scrambler's body?"
Scott shook his head. "Disappeared in a burst of light, according to Nate. They went back to check on the others, and none of the Marauders were where we left them," Scott explained as he covered Jean with the blanket. "The metal restraint Logan fashioned for Arclight-hell, even the ice shackles Bobby used to hold Riptide-were still there. But no one was in 'em. Doesn't matter. I really don't give a damn, so long as you're back, safe and sound," he told her, bending to kiss her cheek before sitting down at her bedside. Smiling, Jean closed her eyes.
"Scott?"
"Hmm?"
"Why do you think they didn't just teleport me away with them?"
He let out a loud breath. "I don't know, sweetheart. Maybe whatever sort of teleportation device they use is keyed into each Marauder's specific genetic structure."
"Maybe Sinister didn't want to risk hurting the baby."
Scott reached for her hand, entwining their fingers. "Don't even think about it anymore, Jean. Just get some rest."
"'Kay."
Through their rapport, Jean could sense the tension that had been filling Scott's body slowly melt away. As she drifted off to sleep, she overheard his silent prayer of gratitude for the safe return of his wife and unborn child.
End Chapter 21