Chapter 6: 'Whacked'
They stopped hurting her after her voice was gone; it wasn't as much fun if she couldn't respond to their ministrations. They shoved the jumpsuit at her with a curt order to dress, and Jubilee, shaking from pain and shock, pulled the rough stuff over her sore, abused limbs. She didn't try to fight as they strapped the straitjacket back around her upper body and pinioned her arms; numb from exhaustion, all she could think about was being left alone. They half-dragged, half-carried her back to her cell, and roughly shoved her in before slamming the door behind her.
For a long time she just lay where they'd dropped her, unmoving, unthinking. Hot, agonized tears streaked her face, but she was too exhausted to sob. She dozed, drifting in and out of consciousness, only half-aware of a guard coming in with a plate of food and something to drink. She knew the liquid, even if it were drugged, would ease her parched throat and alleviate her thirst, but the moment she tried to move toward that plate, agony exploded in her abused body and she stayed where she was. Thirst warred with her pain, but she simply hurt too much to even try to reach the food.
It was a long time before the pain in her body eased enough for her to move. She didn't know how long it had been, but the guards had come back in and taken the plate of cold food, then some time later, gave her another plate. Dinner? She didn't know; the food was always the same, so if it was actually breakfast time she'd never know the difference. She drifted into fevered imaginings of what she would be eating if she were at home, and she found herself craving barbecue-flavored potato chips. The thought made her laugh sardonically, humorlessly, at herself, as she fell asleep.
When she woke next, she felt a little better, and the dull, throbbing ache deep in her body had eased enough. The plate of food was gone, but she knew sooner or later someone would bring something in. She needed to drink. Something. Anything. Her stomach cramped in hunger, her throat and mouth dry, her lips cracking with thirst. But the condition of her body kept her from dwelling too much on her situation, helped her ignore just how terrified she now was. She'd never seriously thought Bastion would do—or allow to have done to her---the things that had been done, and she was now almost feverish with terror, imagining the worst things that could happen to her from here on out.
The sound of her cell door opening caught her attention, and she looked up. Through hunger-blurred, gritty eyes she could make out a figure coming in. The measured, slow klik klik of heels on the floor answered her question as to who it was, and her terror was suddenly masked by anger.
Daria set the tray down on the floor and picked up the spoon. Not that Jubilee would be able to use it; but there was one on every tray. She sat back on her heels, then looked at Jubilee. What she saw shocked her.
The child's face was battered, bruised, streaked with dried blood and tears. Blue eyes, once full of life, were now shadowed, filled with terror, dulled by pain. Sweat and dust filmed Jubilee's skin, and her face was so pale her eyes looked even bigger and more startlingly blue against the white skin. Seeing the girl's distress, Daria said as gently as she could, "Jubilee. It's been two days. Eat." The child ignored her, hunching her shoulders, and Daria saw the bruised face become set in anger. At her. She didn't know what she'd done to deserve Jubilee's anger, but she supposed Jubilee was just angry at everyone. And Daria herself was becoming angry, on Jubilee's behalf. For two days she hadn't been allowed near Jubilee, Bastion keeping her busy with other duties. This morning he had simply told her to tend to Jubilee's needs, and told Daria which cell the girl was in. Now the woman could see that during those two days Jubilee had been—there was no other word for it—tortured. Anger and sick horror rushed through her; no child deserved to have this happen to them. No one. Not even mutants.
She made a mental note to speak to Bastion about what the guards were doing behind his back, and turned to Jubilee. "Here. Look." She popped the spoonful of peas into her mouth, just barely keeping from grimacing at the tasteless mess, and ate. "It's safe. Trust me." She had gotten it from Bastion.
Jubilee's voice, when she spoke, was a harsh croak. "Yer kiddin', right?" She raised her head defiantly, although the movement took so much energy, energy she should be conserving. "You an' me, we're practically the same age! Bastion I can understand—he's old enough that he was probably warped out a long time ago, but you?" The voice broke a little. "How can you be so whacked—so mean?"
Daria couldn't think of anything to say. "I…uh…I…" She couldn't tell Jubilee she was perilously close to agreeing with her. So she did the only thing she could think of; she left. Just before the door closed behind her, she said quietly, "Please, Jubilee. Eat."
Jubilee stared at her with rage in her eyes. "Yeah. Right. Thanks for the concern, Daria." The door closed.
Out in the hall, Daria leaned against the wall, arms folded, shoulders hunched. She wasn't mean. She wasn't 'whacked out'—whatever that meant. She wasn't. She wasn't like those guards. And Bastion didn't know the guards had been torturing her. Did he? No, he couldn't have. Yes, he hated mutants…but not this much. Not enough to have a small child tortured. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "Jubilee, I'm so sorry...please, I didn't know…"
Jubilee stared at the door for a long time. That wasn't fair, Jubes, she chided herself. She didn't hurt you. She had no part in what happened to you. Pushing off from the wall, she went to the plate on her knees, wrapped her lips around the straw, and drank. Liquid flowed down her throat; orange juice. The sweetness of the fruit sugar hit a system that depended on sugar to maintain her energy levels, and she could almost feel herself getting a little stronger. At least there ain't nobody around to see this, she thought grimly as she lowered her head to the food and started to eat, being careful not to get it everywhere.
And soon after she had eaten and sat back, she felt a heaviness settle on her limbs. No! she thought as the drugs in the food dragged her back down into darkness. She said it was safe..!
Jubilee woke…if this was what you could call 'awake.' Her body felt heavy, unresponsive, as if she were a quadriplegic who had lost the use of all four limbs. The straps around her wrists and ankles holding her down to the heavy chair felt very far away, as if her body didn't really belong to her. She felt pleasantly muzzy-headed, as if she were looking out at the world through a thin layer of cotton wool.
A black figure crossed in front of her, and she watched it dreamily. Bastion… But his presence near her didn't inspire her to any kind of terror; not like usual. She wanted to relax, let go of all her worries, and just drift in this painless fog, but some small part of her mind kept insisting, This isn't right… and after a moment, she realized why it wasn't right. She'd been drugged; the last memory she had was of collapsing in a drugged stupor beside the empty plate.
He wants…something… she struggled to remember what it was he wanted. I know something he doesn't…and he can't know it…but what was it? Her whacked-out mind tried to fight off the drugged haze, in vain.
Bastion leaned over her, sitting in the chair. "Tell me, Jubilee," he said quietly, smoothly, into her ear. "Tell me what I want to know. You know you want to tell me. So tell me. Where are the X-Men? Where is their base?"
The X-Men…he wants to know where to find the X-Men. "They're in…" she started, one part of her mind urging her to tell him, not to resist, just give in…but her voice trailed off as that tiny part of her mind, way in the back, reminded her of her obligations. No! Don't tell him! Oddly enough, the voice sounded like Logan's. Don't tell him, Jubes, he mustn't know, he can't know. We're dependin' on ya not to tell, Jubilee. Don't tell him. Fight it. You're strong, darlin', stronger'n ya realize. Don't give in…
"No…" Jubilee didn't even realize it, but her lips were shaping the word right before Bastion' disbelieving eyes. "No…won't tell, Wolvie…promise…won't tell. Fight…stronger…won't let you down…won't let any of you down…Professor…" her voice strengthened a little. "Professor…please…wanna go home…Jean…please, somebody, wanna go home…" tears started to leak from the corners of her drug-glazed eyes. "Wolvie, where are you? I can't do this anymore, Wolvie…they hurt me…Please take me home…"
Bastion pitched his voice low, as comforting and soothingly as he could. "I know you want to go home, Jubilee. If you tell me where 'home' is, I'll take you there. Where is home?"
"Wolvie…" the drug dragged up a feeling deep in Jubilee's heart, a feeling she'd never admitted to even herself, much less anyone else. "Wolvie is home. Where he is…that's home." Her lips curved into a soft smile.
Bastion lashed out with a fist, in frustration and anger, catching her across one bruised cheek, snapping her head back on her neck. The child was so drugged she didn't even realize it; she just stared up at the ceiling, smiling at whatever hallucination the drugs had dragged out of her mind for her. He turned to the doctor furiously. "Give her another dose!"
The doctor shook his head. "If we give her anymore she's going to be useless to anyone," he said firmly. "We'll have to wait for her to wake up completely from the sodium pentothal before we dose her again."
"It's a truth drug! It's supposed to get her to tell me the truth!"
The doctor shook his head again. "What it actually does is make the mind of the person you're drugging much more susceptible to suggestion," he said. "It doesn't make someone tell the truth. Nothing can make anyone do that, except telepathy. Even if you tried torturing the truth out of her," he had seen Jubilee's battered, bruised face; and unlike some of his fellow doctors, he didn't approve of torture of anyone, much less a child!… "She still might be able to evade the compulsion. Her will is strong, for someone so young." He couldn't keep the note of admiration out of his voice.
Bastion heard it too, and pounced on the doctor, like a hungry cat on a mouse. "Then find me a drug that will make her listen to me," said nastily. "There's more than just the sodium pentothal to make her talk. Try them all."
The doctor looked at Bastion in disbelief. "That many different drugs, all at once, could have a fatal side effect on her, sir," he said quietly. "Those interactions haven't been studied, and since I don't have her medical charts, I don't know if she might be allergic to some of those drugs. Asians are much more susceptible to different drugs, due to their genetically higher metabolism. And with her being a mutant, hers is even more accelerated."
"I don't care!" Bastion thundered. "I want the X-Men's location. Do whatever you have to do to get that for me!" He turned to look at the still figure strapped to the chair. "I will have what I want, child. Do you hear me? You will tell me what I want to know!"
End notes:
Most of this chapter is pure fantasy. The only part of this that belongs to Marvel and their creative team on Generation X #28 is the scene where Daria brought the food in and tried to get Jubilee to eat. All the stuff from before is my imagination, and everything afterward, including Daria's internal monologue and the pentothal scene. Don't blame Marvel if any of that seemed 'out of character'; it's all my fault! Mea culpa!
Stay tuned for the next chapter!
