Chapter 11: Wolvie

She ran.

At first she could think of nothing but getting away from there, and she concentrated single-mindedly on putting one foot in front of the other.

She'd looked for the road Daria said was there; and had found it, but it was more of a dusty track than a road, and it hadn't been used in a long time. "Well, if this road was ever used—and it was, duh, or there wouldn't be one here," she told herself, trying to think logically through the almost overwhelming hunger and thirst and exhaustion plaguing her body. "Then it has to go somewhere. Someone's gotta have used the road for somethin' at some point. So I guess I'd better follow it, and see where it goes. Beats goin' back there." So she'd followed the road until its traces were completely obliterated by desert dust and sand.

"Now what?" Jubilee stared ahead of her, at the expanse of sand broken only by a couple of cacti and some scrubby, water-starved brush, and then behind her, at the road that led back to the gorge, the base…and Bastion. "Uh-uh. Not an option. Ain't even gonna think about it." She studied the trackless expanse of sand in front of her, frowned, then sighed in exasperation. "Woulda been really cool if there was, like, a sign right here that says 'Next town this way' or something like that, but I guess that'd be askin' too much, huh?" she told a nearby cactus. She looked ahead of her, off to her left, where the sun would soon set, and then east. Then she shrugged. "Well, guess I'll just keep goin' straight till I hit something," she muttered to herself. "There's gotta be somethin' out here besides cactuses and dead branches. Wish I had Wolvie's sense of smell; I'd be able to just take a sniff and I'd know exactly where everyone is." She sighed. "Oh, well, let's get moving, Lee."

The afternoon sun beat down, and she found she had to stop more often to rest. The heat was relentless, and she wished passionately, more than once, that she could take off the hated jumpsuit. But she wore nothing under it, and anyway, the fastenings of the thing were behind her and she couldn't reach them. And if she took it off, she'd likely get badly sunburned. Not fun. Her body was already aching from various bruises, sweat stung her old cuts and wounds, and the ache deep in her body was quickly being superseded by the ache in her side from lack of breath. And having eaten nothing but the absolute minimum of food for God knew how long, she wasn't in the best physical shape either. She wanted to stop, to sit down and rest, but she was too terrified of being caught and taken back. Instead she struggled on, throughout that morning and afternoon, onward through the desert, interspersing short bursts of running with periods of walking. As the shadows lengthened, and the sun sank lower in the west, despair began to take over. Is there no end to this freakin' desert? She asked herself tiredly. Am I just gonna have to run on till the heat and thirst get to me and then drop over dead? Not a nice thought, that. She stubbornly went on.

Well, no matter what happened to her, the X-Men were free, and they were okay. Wherever they were. "Wolvie's got a healing factor; he can take care of himself just fine. Jean and Scott can take care of each other, and Sam and Ro will both be just fine."

When was the last time she'd felt heat like this? Back in… "Australia. Way back then, when I first met Wolvie. The Reavers staked him to that humongo cross and just left him there in the sun to fry all day." She shuddered at the memory. "That was the worst thing I'd ever seen anybody do to anyone. Oh, God, Wolvie, where are you? I miss you so much right now…" and she lost some of her body's precious moisture in a fat tear that slid slowly down her cheek. Suddenly overwhelmed with despair, exhaustion, and loneliness, she slumped to the ground and rested her folded arms on her knees for a moment, fighting the heaving, dry sobs that wracked her thin body. When she tried to get up, she found her body stubbornly refusing to move. "Probably just need a rest," she reasoned to herself. And stayed where she was until she could finally force her exhausted muscles to move again. She wasn't well-rested, by any means, but a look at the setting sun told her she should pick up the pace, try to reach a town or something, soon. She put on a short burst of speed, but soon grew tired. "Let's face it, Jubilation Lee, you are not a long distance runner! Too many sugar bombs and not enough laps around the biosphere. But you got this far! You can't give up now! Not after Daria sacrificed herself so you could escape from Bastion…poor Daria." She paused, bending double, holding her sides. "C'mon, Jube! Ol' Wolvie wouldn't give up!" Thinking about Logan gave her the impetus she needed to stagger on a few more steps. "The Wolvster would keep going, no matter what! He would!"

Darkness fell, quicker than she had expected, being a city girl. Out here in the desert, there were no buildings obstructing the horizon, so the sky went from twilight to full dark in what seemed to her a very short time. Concentrating on keeping her feet moving, she ignored her surroundings, and only when she realized she couldn't see her feet clearly in front of her did she look up and realize the stars were out and the moon was rising. "Sheesh! How'd it get to be so dark all of a sudden?" She paused, straightened, and recoiled as she saw a dark shape in front of her. "And who's that?"

Five miles north, the recently freed X-Men crouched in the shadow of a rocky outcropping. Their stealthy approach to the fortress-like 'clinic', waiting silently on the rise above them, had gone seemingly undetected. After escaping from Bastion's base the previous day, they had taken shelter in a squatters' camp with a blind ex-pilot who called himself Mustang. He and the rest of his companions had been receiving free treatment and experimental state-of-the-art prosthetics from the 'Doctor Prospero' who ran the clinic. Logan's reconnaissance the night before had uncovered its true function; turning unsuspecting human beings into Prime Sentinel sleeper agents. They were doing the same thing to Mustang and his friends. For three of them…and God knew how many others…the process was already complete. After a brief but violent skirmish to subdue the nascent Primes, the X-Men made the only decision they could. They were going to shut down Prospero's 'Frankenstein factory' even though it meant going back in the direction they just came, and Bastion's headquarters.

Scott outlined his assault plan and assigned each of them their tactical role. Basic two-pronged attack, Logan noted, his attention divided between Scott, the desert, and the clinic. Cyke an' me take the front door, 'Ro an' Sam go through the roof, an' Jeannie hangs back as support. Nothing complicated; it was a routine Danger Room scenario, unless they were walking into a nest of fully-activated Prime Sentinels. And he was still certain they could handle that. The only thing that unnerved him was the quiet. Other than themselves, the only things making any noise were the prairie dogs digging underground off to his right; some bats looking for a meal that tickled the limits of his hearing, and a slight breeze rustling the sparse scrubby foliage. There was no whirr from an air conditioner or even the buzz of a generator from the clinic. He wasn't used to such silence; it didn't even get this quiet in the forest.

And then the wind shifted, blowing in from the south, stirring the hairs on Logan's back and arms. Reflex kicked in, borne of long habit, and he took a long whiff. The faint scent was almost smothered by the heat, dust, and heavy, unpleasant scent of the creosote bushes; so faint he would have missed if it weren't so familiar…and so out of place.

…Jubilee? Here? Impossible, she's s'posed ta be in Massachusetts! But he needed to be sure, so he crept around to where he could get a deeper lungful of air. To the north he heard the faint hum of a bus engine approaching. He inhaled slowly, once. Again. And then he knew. He might as well have been looking straight at her. Behind him Scott said something about 'Wolverine and his solo-act', but he tuned that voice out completely as all his attention focused on that scent. It was faint, but unmistakable. It couldn't…it has to be…couldn't be anyone else…but how in hell…?

Forgetting completely about Scott and the others, he ran off into the desert. He didn't know how, or why. All he knew was that Jubilee was out there in the Chihuahuan Desert while a whole swarm of Sentinels were flying around with a vendetta against the X-Men, and he was going to bring her back. He didn't have any answers; wouldn't have answers until he saw her…so he put the questions aside and focused single-mindedly on the task of finding her.

Then a realization hit him that made his stomach twist. Jubilee's scent was coming from the direction of the facility they'd just escaped. It couldn't be a coincidence. Changing direction slightly, he changed his pace into a full ground-eating sprint as he raced back the way the X-Men had come the day before. Pausing occasionally to take a whiff of the cooling evening breeze confirmed his grim suspicion; the closer he got to the Hulkbuster base the stronger her scent became. Okay, darlin', I know yer out here. Now just stay safe long enough fer me ta find ya! It was as close as he'd ever come to praying.

Questions swirled through his mind as he tried to make sense of the situation. I smell her, so I know she's alive. But what the hell is she doin' here so close t'Bastion's base? Sean an' Emma bring the kids out here t'try an' rescue us? What're thay thinkin' riskin' the kids like that? Wouldn't put it past Frosty; some piece o' work she is! Think she'd've learned after losin' her first batch o' students! But Irish? Expected better o' him. I'm gonna kick both their asses when I find 'em fer bringin' Jubilee in the middle o' this. Ain't like we needed rescuin'…unless maybe it was them who opened the door fer us. How'd they know where we were? And what then? They bust in, spring the door, an' bust back out. An' now they're out here in the desert gettin' away…so how come the only one I smell's Jubilee? She get separated? Or maybe she'd the only one who made it outta there! Dammit! What the hell is she doin' all the way out here by herself? I can't even tell what direction she's goin'—inta trouble or away from it---or if she's standin' still…Dammit, Jubilee, where the hell are you?

Logan's wondering stopped abruptly. A whistle followed by an odd, almost metallic plinking sound ahead and to his left brought him skidding into a low crouch. Overcoming an instant light-headedness and the sudden urge to gasp air into straining lungs Logan spun and scanned the horizon for any sign of movement. Nothing. Forcing himself to take deep, quiet breaths, he cocked an ear toward the source of the noise, claws extended, ready to attack. Another low whistle and a clucking drew his eyes to the ground. Small shapes waddled like wind-up toys at the foot of a creosote bush, tiny plumes whipping and bobbing. Quail! A buncha damn birds! Jagged bone claws retreated, sliding back into his forearms through wounds that winked closed and vanished.

Logan kept still and listened as he caught his breath, hoping to hear something, some clue that would point him toward Jubilee. Quail. A pack rat. Snake scales scraping over rock. Those bats again. No---different bats. Dry wind…and a distant muffled whine that might be the sound of a Sentinel's antigrav jets. Where are ya, darlin'? Send up a paff or something. He wanted her to, but he also knew why she couldn't. He wanted to call out to her, roar her name across the empty darkness until she answered back. But the darkness wasn't empty; Scott had told Sam earlier that they were still well inside the Sentinels' search perimeter, and he himself had noticed they were searching outward. Jubilee might be in close enough to avoid the main search but she might still be spotted by incoming or outgoing patrols. Hell, they might have her already! The thought sent a shiver of anger running through him. She's just a kid. Any of those bastards touch her, I swear I'll kill every last one of them…

The next breeze carried her scent so clearly he could almost taste her. He was close. It was strongest from down and around a low hump pf boulders off to the right. Logan followed that trail at a jog, alert to the subtleties buried in that scent. Exhaustion, dried sweat, pain…and fear. Jubilee! Hold on, darlin', I'm almost there!

The shape looming out of the dark was certainly tall enough to be a Sentinel, and Jubilee's terror of being found gave way to a rush of adrenaline. She brought her hands up and fired a burst of plasmoids at the shape. "I'm not going back to the Hulkbuster base! You can't make me! You can't—" she broke off abruptly as the light from her plasmoids revealed not a Sentinel, but a…cactus?

She sank to the ground in front of it, laughing a little at herself in relief. "Whew. The heat is making me jumpy. That was a stupid mistake!"

"Correct." A heavy, mechanical, indubitably Sentinel, voice came from behind her. She froze, her heart plummeting, eyes widening, as the voice continued. "Setting off your pyrotechnics in the dark was not only a stupid mistake, mutant, it was a fatal one!"

She got to her feet, whirling in the same movement, ignoring her muscles' protest, and saw one of the big black and purple hunks of metal standing behind her. "I was returning to base to replace a defective power cell and I saw an unnatural flash in the desert. My sensors registered your bio-signature."

Jubilee braced herself for a fight. "I'm not going back there!" She couldn't go back there. Now that Bastion had what he wanted, she was of no use to him anymore, and he'd give her to the guards…

"That is true. Bastion has changed your status from 'capture and detain' to 'terminate'. Do not resist, mutant. Your pyrotechnic powers are not sufficient to overcome me—" His targeting field moved to pin Jubilee in his crosshairs, and she gathered her power for a brief, concentrated burst. She didn't have a lot left, but if she could just stun him, maybe she could escape in the darkness…

"You ever hear of David and Goliath, chips-for-brains?" she hollered at it, sending a stream of plasmoids at the glassy lens of the targeting eye, disrupting its visual locator and targeting mechanisms. "Amazing what you can do with accurate placement, huh?" At least her time with Frosty—and all those sessions in the Danger Room—had taught her that much control.

A hideous mechanical skreeing came from the damaged Sentinel. "Major sensory input systems damage! Communications suite and visual receptors offline! Switching to infrared imaging!" and a second later… "Targeting system damaged!"

It tried to send a burst of answering fire at her, but she ducked it easily. "You are fried, ya big bully!" she cried furiously. "And I am outta here!" She turned and ran.

The Sentinel recovered somewhat and went airborne, pursuing her with off-target fire. Jubilee ducked and dodged, weaving, avoiding the fire easily, but it kept pursuing. "Escape is not possible, girl. Infrared tracking and manual weapons targeting are quite sufficient to complete your termination!"

"You have to catch me first, dummy—" Jubilee wasn't as confident as she sounded; the only thing keeping her on her feet now was adrenaline, and she was fast reaching the end of her reserves of that too.

Logan tracked her down to a flat area, his pace driven by his breathing; long inhale, then a sharp puff, like a steam engine fueled by her scent carried on the breeze. It spilled from a gap between two low, rocky ridges less than a hundred yards ahead, tinged with fear and anger. Logan headed for that break, his stride lengthening. His pulse quickened, his senses sharpened and began to focus on the starlight-illuminated path directly ahead of him as items in his peripheral vision faded into shadow. He could also hear her now; her voice was still mostly indistinct, but he could make out a few words. "You can't make me!" The distinctive rainbow colors of her plasmoids lit the contour of the left ridge with sizzles and pops.

Ain't nobody gonna make ya do anythin' ya don't wanna as long's I'm alive! Logan burst into a flat-out run straight for that beacon, claws unsheathing. Something was attacking Jubilee, and he drove forward like an angry wave as his pulse hammered in his ears. Then he heard another voice; deep, toneless, reverberating mechanically. She's bein' attacked by Sentinels! Another barrage of paffs triggered a mechanical screech and a stench of scorched metal and melting plastic. He'd never been so glad to see anything in his life. At least she was fighting back, at least she was able to fight back…and then he saw the huge shadow rise into the air above the ridge twenty yards away. His breath caught in his lungs as the Sentinel opened fire.

And there was no answering burst of Jubilee's plasmoids.

No! No, no, NO! It was the last thing that went through his mind that even resembled rational thought. The rational parts of the mind that belonged to the man called Logan dissolved into fractured pieces, subsumed by a tidal wave of hatred borne of his intense protective instincts for the little girl he cared about so deeply, and all that was left was the need to tear apart whatever was threatening her until nothing at all remained. Rage washed his vision in red. Normally he would fight to keep it in check, but now he welcomed it, letting the fire consume him as he raced to Jubilee's defense. He charged the last few yards in a frenzied blur, lunging from the ridge into the airborne Sentinel from behind.

It was dark, and she really couldn't see what was in front of her even if she was paying attention, but she still cursed herself as her foot disappeared in a prairie dog hole. It put a halt to her precipitous flight, and she cried out as she fell, feeling the ache shoot up the abused muscles in her legs. This is it, she thought. This is it, this is the end of the road. I can't run on a twisted ankle. Well, if it's gonna kill me, I'm goin' down fightin'! She gathered the rest of her strength and prepared to fire off every last bit of energy into destroying the thing…

And an inhuman roar split the night as a heavy weight smashed into the Sentinel's back. Jubilee had never been so glad to hear anything in her whole life. Bone claws, as hard as tooth enamel, ripped deep into its torso, spraying them both in sparks and jagged metal and plastic shrapnel. With his right hand Logan tore out the heavy cable that, if it had been a biological being, would have been a spine as his left hand slashed at its head, shearing metal. Half of the Sentinel's jaw exploded in a shower of microchips…

The claws ripped relentlessly into the twitching Sentinel even before it hit the ground with him on it, their jagged edges shearing through coolant lines, fiber-optic cables, and other things Jubilee had no name for…and the Sentinel fell back onto the sand, now no more than a heap of smoldering scrap. Logan turned toward Jubilee, and the flames of fury behind his eyes started to die as his rational self struggled to regain control.

Jubilee didn't wait. She'd never been afraid of Wolvie when he was in this state, and all she could think of right now was that she was safe, he'd saved her, and she was just so damn relieved to see him. "Wolvie?" She ran forward, wrapping her arms around him in a huge hug. She ignored the sweat that matted his coarse body hair, and buried her cheek in it, nestling as close as she could, and her tension drained away. Wolvie was here. Her best friend, her protector, her mentor.

He drew breath, possibly to say something, but she headed him off. She didn't want to ruin the moment with words; for just a moment, all she wanted from him was a hug and reassurance that she was okay, they were both alive, and she'd made it. Against all odds, she'd made it. "Don't say anything, Wolvie," she whispered around the lump in her throat. "Just hold me tight." She felt his arms wrap around her, felt him tuck her head under his chin, and safe in his arms now, she let tears of relief stream down her cheeks. No matter what happens now, he's here, and he won't let anything, anyone, hurt me. I'm home.

Jubilee…She's still alive! She's okay! I didn't lose her…Logan took a long, slow breath as his healing factor overcame the sudden exhaustion and initial disorientation that initially followed the berserker rage. For a long moment he just held her, savoring the feel of her nestled against him. Only Jubilee would dare approach him when he was like this; only she could wrap her arms around him and bring him back with that simple touch. He'd never understood how, but it didn't matter now. She was alive, and he had her back, and nothing was going to hurt her now. With all that had happened since the last time he'd seen her, he'd almost forgotten how much he missed her.

The last time he saw her it hadn't gone quite the way he'd hoped. Sean had invited him up to teach a real-world combat survival seminar at the Academy. He'd been on the verge of refusing, but then Jubilee had written him a letter asking him to come, so he'd used that as an excuse and walked from Westchester to Snow Valley, trying to keep to the woods as much as possible. He'd been in a feral state, and the five days it took to get there walking had given him time he needed to calm himself down and drive the animal in him deep enough that she wouldn't see it and worry about him. Then he'd encountered that 'Token' spirit in the biosphere. He'd faced it, drove it out…but doing so had reawakened the animal in him. He couldn't let Jubilee see him like that; he didn't want to see the stricken look on her face. He'd left the same night. When he'd come back from visiting her in Massachusetts the last time, Scott had ragged on him for a week about having 'snuck out' on the X-Men again. He hadn't felt the need to tell old One-Eye where he'd been, and Scott never asked. Just one day to let her know he still cared…he didn't feel like it was enough, but that was all he could do. But it could never be enough.

Why was she out here all alone? Why wasn't she safe up in Massachusetts? Where the hell were Frost and Cassidy? He had a million questions, but she pleaded, "Don't say anything," and he never could deny her anything he asked for. So he held her, stroked the dust from the ragged ends of her hair, and let her cry, using his senses to answer some of his questions.

She was exhausted, pushed to her limits. She was probably longing to fall asleep in his arms but it felt to him like she was afraid to let go, as if he'd vanish if she didn't hold on. In his arms she felt so tiny. Fragile. She was also half-starved and dehydrated, and he cursed. She hadn't gotten like this overnight (he could feel her ribs and the tiny, sharp bumps of her vertebrae through this…plastic prison uniform?) The material stuck to her like vinyl coated canvas, glued to her back by sweat and grime. He couldn't feel anything under it, and he wished he had a shirt or something more comfortable to offer her.

The stench of burned Sentinel hung heavy in the air, and he had to sort through that to get to Jubilee's emotions, wrapped up in her body scent. Dried sweat and desert dust. Relief at seeing him. Exhaustion. Terror, receding now but still strong. Pain, lots of it, from an overtaxed body. Blood, faint but still there. And that last scent forced him to reluctantly let go of her and take in her physical appearance. An ugly jumpsuit, made of some sort of plastic that had almost cloth-like flexibility but still thin enough to tear (her upper right sleeve was torn) and the sleeve itself was pushed back to her elbows. It had the same sterile non-smell that tainted everything Bastion had touched. She's been inside Bastion's prison, like we were. Probably the whole time we were there…an' we—I—never knew! The exposed skin of her arms was sunburned, but the redness of the skin couldn't hide the abrasions on her wrists, the skin raw from something having chafed at the flesh there. He reached for that wrist, to bring it into the moonlight so he could see it.

Jubilee gasped and pulled away, taking an involuntary step back. Logan raised his eyes to her face in surprise, but what he wanted to say died on his lips as he saw the sleepless shadows under her eyes, and her thin face streaked with dried blood, dust and sweat. Her still-flowing tears made two clean tracks on either side of her nose, and in those clean tracks he saw large, dusky bruises. Horrified, he reached out to touch them.

Jubilee wasn't even thinking; her exhausted body just reacted to the upraised hand. Her hands came up in a don't hurt me! gesture, her shoulders hunched, and she seemed to shrink into herself, becoming smaller, as if by twisting up she could make herself less of a target for a blow. Logan sucked in his breath. "Jubes…" his voice was soft, full of pain at what he saw. "Jubes, what happened to you?" Along with the dismay in his voice was a cold anger. She's never pulled away from me like this. Never. He recognized the body language; in all his years of living he'd seen too many women react after being brutalized not to recognize the signs when he saw it. Oh no…oh, God, no! Not Jubilee. She's just a kid! My gutsy, bubbly little Jubilee. "Jubilee, what happened?"

Her reaction spoke volumes. She pulled even farther away from him, and nervously rolled down her sleeves to cover the abrasions he now saw on both wrists. "Bastion's had me in the Hulkbuster base for a while," she said softly, lowering her head so Logan wouldn't see the tears glinting on the edge of her lashes. She couldn't tell him everything. She mustn't tell him everything. He'd want to go tear Bastion apart for what had happened to her, and he couldn't go back there; they'd capture him for certain.

She didn't have to say anything more. Vividly across his mind flashed the memory of Sam, lying on the floor being beaten by the human guards…and the vision of Jubilee lying there instead of Sam made him want to paint the desert red with the blood of those who had done this to her. A low growl of anger rumbled in his chest.

Jubilee looked at him nervously, plainly upset. "Logan, please, it wasn't a big deal," she whispered, her throat constricting in fear. "They just…kinda pushed me around some. Nothing serious. Please."

His anger was upsetting her further, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. With difficulty he pushed the anger down and said quietly, "Are ya okay? Truth."

Jubilee nodded slowly, still tense but relaxing a little. He sighed and swallowed his rage. We'll talk about it later, when yer ready. Right now we gotta get ya outta here an' get ya some water. When the current emergency was over, she'd come to him to talk, just like she always had. It could wait until then. "Where're the other kids? Sean or Frosty here with ya?"

Jubilee shook her head wearily. "Bastion kidnapped me from the Academy in the middle of a fight. I'm alone out here."

Logan filed that bit of information away as something he needed to talk to Sean and Emma about. How the hell had Bastion managed to kidnap one of their students right out from under their noses? "Okay. Let's get back to the others."

Jubilee craned her head past him, peering off into the desert night. "Jean, 'Ro, they aren't with you?"

He shook his head. "Left 'em plannin' an assault on a Sentinel factory we found posin' as a clinic, back there a ways," he said, jerking his thumb behind him. "Smelled you out here, came to get ya." He looked past her, scanning the desert. "The sooner we're back with 'em the better." He started a steady jog back the way he'd come. Jubilee followed, trying gamely to keep up with him, but her wrenched ankle wasn't making it easy, and her current state of exhaustion didn't help either. Finally Logan couldn't stand to see her push herself anymore and stopped. "Jubes," he said as gently as he could, "Yer hurt, an' we ain't gonna be able to make it back in any decent amount o' time with ya limpin' along. I understand how ya feel, but things'd go much faster if I carry ya."

Jubilee sighed and bit her lip. Logan was right, speed was a necessity. And she couldn't run. She stepped up to his broad back, forced down her sudden aversion to being touched, and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling her still-sore parts in contact with him. This is Wolvie, she told her tense body. He's not gonna hurt me. She had to fight to keep from pulling away as he hooked his arms under her knees, but it was a relief to get her weight off her feet, and to stop moving for a while. She rested her cheek against his jouncing shoulder as they got moving.

Logan didn't miss her sigh, or the sudden intake of breath as she settled firmly against his back. That jumpsuit was hiding a lot of bruises and sore body parts, and he hated causing her any more pain, but they really really had to get back to the others…and maybe being around Jean and Ororo would ease some of her tension around him.

They headed back the way he'd come.

End Notes:

Many, many thanks to my coauthor Megalictis, without whose help this chapter couldn't have been written…or if it had, it wouldn't be as you see it now! Thanks also to the folks at who gave me a lot of very helpful issue reference information. Thanks also go to the creative team on Wolverine #117 (which is the issue this chapter is taken) Hama/Yu/Tadeo for giving me so much fuel for the imagination! I owe this story to you guys!

This chapter was by far the most challenging to write, to date, simply because there was so much left unsaid, and a lot to guess at. I hope I did a decent job; if you think I missed something, please let me know! Thank you!---Jaenelle