Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait, I've been either working or on vacation. Hope you like the next two chapters!
Bleeding Hearts
The Sequel to Weeping Willow
An X3 Fanfiction by Carrie
Chapter Five
A zombie. That's what Willow felt like when Storm and Logan came back from their mission without the professor. She felt as though someone had stolen something from her. Something that left her feeling empty and dead inside.
Rain came down in torrents the day after Charles Xavier was lost, but Willow ventured outside anyway, forgetting all about shoes and a coat. Her clothes became soaked within minutes as she trekked across the sweeping lawn to the memorial that she'd grown for Jean months ago. The plum trees had dropped their pink flowers before summer had even arrived and, in their place, dark purple leaves rustled in the cold wind. Willow waded through the lavender that had become overgrown and sat down amongst her five trees. She stared up through the branches at the dark clouds above her and let the rain fall against her face.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered to no one. The thought of sweet, caring Jean Grey being responsible for the murder of her own husband and her mentor was heartbreaking. Who else would die before this ordeal was over? "If it ends at all," Willow added to her thoughts. The sorrow that was welling up inside Willow could not be expressed in tears or anger. Instead, she could feel the trees around her begin to die. Their leaves became brown and brittle, detaching from the branches before being blown to oblivion by the harsh wind. The wood beneath the bark of the trees became rotten and spongy as it began to fall apart. Each lavender plant dried up and decomposed into the earth along with the disintegrating stumps of her once beautiful trees. Soon, there was nothing left of Jean's memorial but a few dark spots in the grass.
Storm watched this from a few yards away, trying her best to hold back tears. She decided to approach Willow to see if she needed to talk. As she walked closer to her student and friend, Storm noticed that the grass she was walking on was dead and brown. She gazed behind her at the ivy covered mansion and noticed that the creeping vines were dying as well, their leaves floating away on the wind.
"Willow," Ororo called out. Willow whipped around to look at the source of the voice, her eyes disappearing into their unearthly green glow. A menacing patch of blackberry brambles snaked out of the ground, separating the two women with a wall of jagged leaves and thorns. "Willow, please talk to me."
"I just want to be alone," Willow said softly. Storm could still see two green eyes glowing at her from within the thicket.
"You're going to catch cold, sitting there like that," Storm said, trying to coax her out.
"What would it matter if I caught a cold, Storm?" Willow said bluntly. Her words sent a spike through Storm's heart. Willow slowly lowered herself into fetal position amongst the dead grass and brambles. Her hair stuck to her face in cold, wet ropes. "I just wish he was here."
"The professor's gone, Willow, there's nothing any of us can do to change that," Storm said gently.
"I know," Willow said. "And I miss him terribly, but that's not who I was talking about."
"Kurt?" Storm deduced.
"Yeah," Willow muttered. "It seems like all my life, someone's been by my side to protect me. My mom, Yolanda at the hospital, Xavier, Kurt….This is the first time in my entire life that no one's here to protect me, to tell me it's gonna be okay. It's not okay. Nothing's okay anymore."
"Willow, you're an adult now and part of the X-Men," Storm said, crouching to get a better view of Willow through the bushes. "And that means that you need to be able to step up and protect others instead of waiting for someone to come and save you. We protect each other, our loved ones and what we believe in. That's what being an X-Man is all about."
"I know," Willow said. "It's just hard when everyone that I relied on to be there to support me is gone."
"I know, sweetheart. But Kurt will be back soon," she said.
"My mom and the Professor and Scott will never be back, though," Willow said.
"You're not the only one who has to live without them," Storm said. "We're all going through the same thing and I think that being alone during times like this will only make it harder for you to cope." Willow thought about it for a second and knew that she was right. Jackie had proven that point over the course of the last few months. She stood up to face Storm, her brambles moving aside to let her through. Willow stepped through the opening she created before willing the blackberry bushes back into the ground.
"Lets get you dried off," Storm suggested as the two of them walked back to the mansion.
The funeral was at 10:00 the next morning. People from across the country were showing up at the mansion to honor the life of Charles Xavier, most of which the newer students had never met before.
Willow was awake, showered and dressed by nine. She couldn't sleep the night before and she was feeling the effects of it. She tried her best to used concealer to cover up the light purple bags under her eyes, but it wasn't doing any good. She gave herself a good look in the mirror. She was in a feminine black suit with a lacy white camisole underneath that flattered her figure. She wore her long green hair down and straightened, something that took her an hour to accomplish. Black loafers covered her feet. She glanced at her green hands and bit her lip. The pigment had crawled past her elbow, stopping about four and a half inches below her shoulders since last night. When her green skin had fist appeared, her house had exploded. She wondered if it would ever stop completely or if depressing and stressful times would keep perpetuating the spread.
"Maybe I'll look like a green Mystique someday," Willow mused wryly, hoping such a thing would never happen. The thought brought her back to recent times. She had heard the story of Mystique's unfortunate run in with a cure dart and, even though she was nothing less than a terrorist, Willow felt pity for her.
Willow let out a long sigh before she heard a knock at the door.
"Are you decent?" she heard Hank's voice call from outside. He'd come back in the night with the news that he'd resigned from his position as the Secretary of Mutant Affairs when he heard that the decision to make the cure into a weapon was made completely without his consent.
"Yeah, come in," she answered. Beast's burly blue frame entered the room. "Whaddya think?" she asked, gesturing to her outfit.
"You look lovely," he replied with a fond smile. "I was sent to bring you downstairs. We're about to head outside and Ororo said she needed to discuss the state of the lawn..."
"Ah," Willow mumbled, remembering that she'd killed off quite a bit of the lawn the night before. She and Hank descended the stairs together before going their separate ways. Willow went out the back door into the yard. She shook her head with a hollow little smirk when she caught sight of brownish patches of dead grass in roughly the same size and shape of her own feet leading away from the unsightly location of Jean's memorial. She looked up at the mansion's edifice and noticed that more than half of the ivy was dead and dying.
"You really did a number on this place," Jackie's voice said. Willow turned around and smiled weakly at her friend, who was clad, surprisingly, in a modest black dress and short pumps. Her white hair fluttered in the warm breeze and her expression was hard to read.
"Yeah. Last night was just…," Willow began to say, shaking her head. It went without saying that no one's night was a particularly good one.
"Well, ya gonna fix it, or what?" Jackie said, prompting Willow back into reality.
"Right…," she muttered. Willow turned around, her hands outstretched. Jackie watched as the dead footprints in the grass disappeared, leaving new, lush grass in its place. The huge dark patch on the lawn ahead of them quickly faded away as well. Willow directed her attention to the sad remains of the ivy. She decomposed what was already dead and let new, healthy vines crawl up into the vacant spots.
"Better?" she asked Jackie.
"Much," she answered. "Did you get your rose from Rogue?"
"Whaddya mean?" Willow asked, confused.
"Rouge bought some roses for us to put at the headstone," Jackie said, gesturing to the two monuments that had been erected earlier that morning; one for Scott and one for the Professor.
"I don't need one," Willow assured her, not taking her eyes off the headstones.
"Alright, whatever floats your boat," Jackie said with a shrug. "Lets get back with everyone else." Willow and Jackie went back inside where pretty much everyone who had ever attended Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters were socializing quietly. A few minutes later, Storm led the way out back where the mourners seated themselves in black fold-up chairs. Willow snagged a seat in between Jackie and Dr. McCoy and watched Storm preparing to give the eulogy. She heaved a sigh, composed herself, and stood in front of the mourners, her head held high.
"We live in an age of darkness," she said. "A world of fear and anger, hatred and intolerance. For most of us, this is the way things are and will always be. Some maintain it is hardwired into so-called human nature. But in every age, there are those who fight against it. It wasn't something they were asked to do. They were chosen. And he was chosen too." Willow heard Storm's strong voice falter. She hadn't even noticed that there were tears running down her cheeks until Hank handed her his handkerchief from his breast pocket. Willow smiled an awkward, embarrassed smile before dabbing her eyes with it.
"Charles Xavier was born into a world divided. A world he tried to heal. It was a mission he never saw accomplished." Willow passed the moist cloth to Jackie, who took it and held it to her eyes. Hank gave the two of them a comforting, fatherly smile. "But Xavier's teachings live on with us, his students. Wherever we may go, we must carry on his vision. The vision of a world united." As abruptly as she had started speaking, Storm lowered her head, finished. The mourners rose to their feet and filed out of the rows of chairs. As planned, Rouge and the rest of the X-Men lay long stemmed, white roses at the base of Xavier's headstone next to an oil lamp, whose flame was never to go out. When it was Willow's turn, she stared at the copper relief of Xavier's face in profile. Below were the words 'Father, Mentor, Teacher'. Without so much as a blink of an eye, Willow grew three small rosebushes that curved around the back of the cenotaph, flanking either side of it. On it blossomed brilliant, white roses. Willow was well versed in the meanings of flowers and their colors. White was always peace, innocence and purity.
The evening after the funeral, the younger members of the X-Men decided to hold a twilight vigil for the Professor. Rouge, Kitty, Bobby, Peter, Jackie and Willow headed out across the lawn to the monuments, each with a little white tea candle. The six of them gathered around Xavier's headstone and lit their candles with a cheap, gas station lighter. At first they were all silent, each getting lost in the flicker of their candles
"When I was ten, my mom died," Jackie said, snapping everyone back into reality. "Brain cancer. When I got the news, I flipped out. That was when we first figured out that I was a mutant. I started generating so much electricity with no way to let it out that I nearly ended up dead. I remember going to the hospital, seeing my dad in black-and-white in the ambulance. It messed him up really bad. Not that I was a mutant, but that I was hurt, right after my mom died." Jackie smirked a little and shook her head.
"They patched me up alright, but they couldn't explain why my hair had gone completely white. It used to be brown, you know. Dark brown." This caused huffs of subdued laughter and ironic grins from her friends. "Anyway, we got a phone call from some guy in New York at some school that my dad had never heard of saying that people with 'abilities' like mine were offered free admission. He said he wanted to meet with me and my dad, but my dad just said that he wanted me to go to public school with everyone else. A few years later, when I was in middle school, my dad got remarried to Felicia. I hated her."
"My dad didn't tell her that I was, you know, a mutant," Jackie said, staring straight down into the light of her candle. "So last year, when the Professor sent me a brochure to this place in the mail, Felicia got a hold of it and got madder than I've ever seen anyone in my life. I came home from school and she chucked it at me and demanded answers. I told her what I was and she threatened to throw me out. So I went over to the phone to call my dad at work, but she ripped the phone out of my hand and threw me to the ground." Revisiting it seemed hard on her, but she continued on anyway. "I could feel this electricity that's always been a part of me building up inside, and I knew that if I didn't get rid of it, I'd land myself in the hospital again, or worse. She came after me and grabbed me by the hair. I got her off me before grabbing the chord of the living room lamp. That's when I put Las Vegas out of power."
"You ran off the same night I did," Willow said. "I remember hearing it on the news in the taxi when I was getting to the greyhound station."
"Yeah," Jackie said with a little ironic smile. "What a night. I dunno how, but I found my Xavier brochure in the dark and got out before Felicia could figure out what was going on. I ran out the door into the dark and never went back. I got to a pay phone and called the school collect. An hour later, Storm and Jean found me outside a 7-11, the first place that still had power that I saw. They led me to the Blackbird and flew me to the school where I met the Professor. He was so damn nice to me and he didn't even know me. He gave me a roof over my head, a bed, classes. He pretty much provided me with a future amongst people I can trust. I don't think I would have ever been able to have that without him."
"That's what was so cool about him," Bobby said softly. "He never judged. People you think will love you unconditionally, like your parents, people you think you can trust, you can't. Except for the Professor. I knew when I met him that he had my best interests in mind."
"I couldn't believe when I first got here how accepting he was," Willow piped up. "I mean, I'd been traveling for weeks and most people wouldn't even give me the time of day. Then I get here, and it's like, all of a sudden, I'm a normal person. People don't look at me weird here, people wanted to get to know me, and they liked me! That'd never happened before. And he helped me so much with my powers."
"I can do so much more than I ever thought I could," Kitty said. "Like walk underground or on air, you know? I never even imagined that that was possible."
"Xavier liked to push everyone to their limit, make them understand their potential," Bobby said. "He once told me that someday, I might be able to unlock a new area of my mutation and actually become ice."
"Would you be able to get back?" Jackie asked.
"I dunno, that's why I haven't tried it," Bobby said sheepishly.
"He was like the best dad anyone could have ever dreamed of having," Rouge said, changing the subject. "Who was always proud of you and your accomplishments and was always there when you needed him."
"I was living in Russia when the Professor contacted me," Peter said. "He came all the way from the States to discuss the school with me. He taught me how to use my strength properly and gave me a home with my real peers."
"Can you imagine what it would have been like if we had never come here?" Willow mused. "Half of us would still be on the streets."
"We owe him our lives, how they are now," Bobby said.
"I'm willing to fight for what he believed in," Jackie said. "Even if it means more death."
"Me too," Willow said. One by one, the rest of them agreed.
Willow bit her lip and looked morosely at the pile of Polaroid photos strewn all over her bed. There were more in the shoebox perched on her pillow. She picked one up and chuckled a little. It was of her and Kurt doing circus tricks. Kurt was in a handstand and Willow was balanced precariously on one hand, her grip on Kurt's left foot the only thing keeping her up in the air. Storm had taken this one a couple weeks ago.
She smiled as she found another one of the two of them pulling funny faces at the camera. She grimaced at the double-chin she had as a result of leaning back and taking the picture herself.
"Oh, God…," Willow groaned with a smile as she found one of she and Kurt hanging upside down in a tree, her by her bent knees and Kurt by his tail. They were kissing. It was a cheesy picture, really. Jubilee had stolen Willow's antiquated camera while they were up there and had snapped a picture of them before they knew what was going on. Willow seemed to remember falling out of the tree shortly afterwards.
"Yep," she confirmed to herself when she discovered the photo of her with a deadpan expression, hair mussed, lying on her stomach with her chin propped on her fists. Kurt was sitting beside her cross legged with a huge, laughing grin on his face. His left arm was slung around her shoulders.
Her trip down memory lane was interrupted by the presence of someone looming in the open doorway. Willow looked up and saw the last person she thought would ever visit her.
"Hey, kid," Logan grunted.
"Hi," she said in a surprised voice. She hastily began stuffing her photos back in their shoe box.
"What's all this?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.
"Just pictures…," Willow said as she accidentally knocked a few to the floor. Logan stepped into the room and scooped up the fallen Polaroids.
"You and the Elf," he observed with a smirk as he flipped through them. He came across one that he could've laughed at, had the current situation not been so grave. Kurt had removed his black t-shirt and wrapped it around his face in a ninja mask, his posture menacing. "Hate to say it, but I'm startin' to miss havin' him around."
"Me too," Willow said with half a smile as Logan handed her the remaining pictures. After she put them back in the box, she sealed it with its old, flimsy lid.
"You two set a date yet?" Wolverine asked with a smirk. If there's one thing he liked to do, it was bust other people's chops for the hell of it.
"For what?"
"Gettin' hitched."
"Who said anything about marriage?" Willow said indignantly.
"No need to get hostile," Logan said, putting his hands up in defense.
"Sorry," she sighed. "I'm not really at my best right now."
"I don't think anyone is," Logan muttered.
"But you know, I think he's safer in Germany," Willow mused. "As much as I want him to come home, I think I'd be more worried if he were here."
"Probably a good call," he said, not sounding at all thrilled. "It ain't safe anywhere anymore, though."
"I don't know that it ever was," Willow said.
"World's a mean place," Logan said with a shrug. "Always a sucker punch waitin' for ya around the corner and all you can do is just take it and pick yourself up afterwards."
"Easier said than done, though," she mumbled.
"Yeah," Wolverine sighed. He wasn't very good at being comforting to much of anyone. "The Elf'll be back. Don't worry about him so much. After all, if you've got your head someplace else, like when we need ya, you might be spending some quality time out on the lawn with Chuck, and no one wants that."
"You're so warm and comforting," Willow said sarcastically. What he said was true, but that wasn't really something she wanted to hear the night after Xavier's funeral.
"Hey, can't blame me for tryin'," Logan said with a grin and a shrug.
"Good try," Willow remarked.
"Alright, well, I guess I just came up here to check up on ya," he said awkwardly. "Let me know when Kurt's back, I'll take his Catholic tail to a bar and get him drunk." Willow chuckled.
"I'll make sure he gets the message," she said.
"Try to get some sleep tonight," Logan said as a good-bye. He left without saying anything else.
In the morning, Jackie found her way downstairs in her pajamas. Sleep had not been good to her and there were purple bags beneath her eyes to prove it. She heard the sound of voices from one of the common rooms. Curiosity getting the better of her, she poked her head inside.
"Good morning, Jackie," Storm greeted. Jackie's superior was lounging in one of the cushy love seats, obviously right in the middle of a conversation with Hank, Bobby, Peter, Kitty, Logan and Willow.
"Hey," she grunted. "Am I interrupting?"
"No, in fact, I was about to send someone up to get you," Storm returned. "Have a seat."
"Mm I in trouble?" she said stupidly. Evidently, three hours of sleep wasn't nearly enough for her brain to function properly. Storm smiled and shook her head. Jackie plopped down on one of the couches next to Willow.
"We're trying to decide what to do," Storm told her.
"Whaddya mean?" Jackie asked, confused.
"About the school," Storm said.
"You're not thinking about closing it, are you?" Jackie said, her eyes snapping open.
"Well, Charles Xavier founded this school," Hank said with a helpless little shrug, "perhaps it should end with him." Jackie was dumbstruck as she watched a few of her peers give empty nods.
"We should start calling parents," Kitty said.
"What?" Jackie and Bobby said simultaneously.
"We can't!" Jackie cried.
"Kitty's probably right, Jacklynn," Hank said. "We should tell the students they're going home."
"If you haven't noticed, most of us don't have anywhere to go," Jackie snarled. "What am I supposed to do? What's Willow supposed to do? Even if my family hates me, at least I have one." Under normal circumstances, Willow would have taken this remark to heart. However, she just nodded, expressionless.
"I can't believe this!" Bobby raged. "I can't believe we're not even going to fight for this place!"
"Charley's dead, kid," Logan grunted. "The professor is dead."
"So what?" Bobby said.
"There's no school," Logan pointed out. "There's no choice."
"There's always a choice!" Bobby countered.
"I'll still teach," Willow piped up. "I could take on a heavier work load."
"Honey, this is your first year of teaching. The professor already told you that you could only have one class at first. Remember?" Storm said. Willow found this patronizing.
"The professor's gone. Remember?" she practically sneered.
"This place is gonna fall apart without him," Logan said.
"Whaddyou care, this was never your home!" Bobby cried. Before Logan could come up with a come back, someone cleared their throat. Everyone turned to the figure standing in the doorway, clad in a bulky trench coat and jeans.
"I'm sorry…," the young man said. "I know this is a bad time…My name's Warren Worthington," he said. Everyone stared. "The third," he added to clear up the confusion. The cure guy's son? Jackie wondered. "I was told that this is a safe place for mutants."
"It was, son," Hank said morosely.
"And it still is," Storm said, standing up. "Jackie, will you show Mr. Worthington to a room?"
"Yeah," she agreed.
"And tell anyone who asks that the school stays open," said Storm decidedly. Jackie smiled broadly. "This is our home, and as long as I'm here, it will be a safe haven for mutants." Jackie saw Willow let out a sigh of relief while everyone else cheered. She wondered what would have happened to her friend had Storm really kicked everyone out.
"Come on, we'll find you a place to stay," Jackie said, beckoning to Warren. His lips twitched in half a smile before following her upstairs.
"You look tired," she said, trying to start some small talk.
"So do you," he replied with a little smile.
"It was a long night," Jackie answered, not wanting to go to in depth with a stranger.
"Yeah," Warren agreed with a little sigh.
"Where are you from?" she asked.
"Centerport, originally," he answered.
"Is that here in New York?" Jackie wondered.
"On Long Island," Warren said. "You don't sound like you've lived here long."
"I'm from Nevada," Jackie answered. "Near Las Vegas."
"I see," he said. A few kids practically ran them over on their speedy descent down the stairs.
"Watch it!" Jackie barked as she regained her balance. "Little punks."
"So everyone here is a mutant?" Warren asked, an amused look on his face.
"Yep, everyone," Jackie said.
"That'll be a nice change," he said almost sadly as Jackie lead him down the hall on the third floor.
"I think there's an empty one here somewhere," Jackie muttered. She tried a few doors, all of them locked. "Alright, I know one of these is empty." Finally, one of the knobs turned. She pushed open the door to a cell of a room. She stepped inside and looked around. There was a bed, a dresser, and a bedside table. No desk, no bathroom. "Wow, this one's small."
"It's perfect," he said, following her into his little room.
"Why don't you take off your coat and stay a while?" Jackie said after a little pause.
"Oh…," Warren said, looking a little uncomfortable.
"Whatever you got under there won't offend me," she coaxed with a smirk. Warren looked a little embarrassed as he shrugged off his coat and discarded it on the little twin bed. Jackie's jaw dropped when she saw what he was hiding.
"Wow," she said, lost for words. Warren stretched his brilliant white wings, fanning them out until they brushed the walls. She wasn't impressed by the wings alone. Warren was also sporting a bare torso most men would kill to have.
"Sorry," he said, taking her reaction the wrong way. He folded them up against his back again.
"Don't be," she said faintly. "Did you…fly here?"
"Yes," he answered.
"From where?"
"Worthington Labs," he said. "In San Francisco."
"Holy crap…," she muttered. "You must've been hauling ass." Warren suppressed a chuckle. This girl was like no one he'd ever met and he admired her already. She wasn't afraid to be herself, even in the presence of a complete stranger. Such freedom must be nice, he thought.
"Sorry, I didn't catch your name," he said suddenly.
"It's Jackie," she said. "Or Jack or Jacklynn or Blackout." He smiled.
"Blackout?" he asked.
"It's a code name," she explained. "I have electricity powers."
"I think I like Jackie," he said.
"Thanks," she said, chewing nervously on the inside of her lip.
"Electricity, huh?" he asked. "Like what?"
"Like…well, for example," she said, taking the shade off the little lamp on the bedside table. She put a finger on the bulb and applied as little voltage as she could. It glowed brighter and brighter, finally exploding into little bits in a matter of seconds. "Oh, God! I'm sorry!" she cried, startled and embarrassed.
"It's okay!" he said hastily.
"Shit, it's all over the bed and the floor…," she groaned. "And just when I thought I had control over it…"
"It's alright," he assured her again, resting a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him with a concerned expression and their eyes met. Their gaze held for a little too long, making Jackie look away, blushing.
"What a first impression," she scoffed in a self-deprecating tone.
"It was a good one," he said with a smile.
"I'll get a new bulb for you," she mumbled as she exited the room hurriedly. "And a broom and a dustpan…"
Jackie was pissed at herself. Here was this gorgeous guy and what does she do?
"Stupid, stupid, stupid," she groaned as she thumped down the stairs. "He's probably just like John anyway, the prick. Probably talking about me behind my back. Probably being nice to manipulate me. Yeah, well, we'll see about that."
She shook off her anger, which was mostly directed at herself, and continued on her search for light bulbs.
"I'm back," she said, announcing her presence to Warren, whose magnificent back was turned to her as he looked out the window. He turned around and smiled genuinely. She held out the four-pack of bulbs. "Maybe you wanna do this so I don't kill it." He took the box gingerly and extracted a bulb. Even though he was amazingly strong, he screwed in the fragile bulb without crushing it. Jackie was envious of that kind of control.
"No harm done," he said kindly. Jackie began to sweep up the shards of glass on the floor as Warren shook out his sheets. Little bits fell to the floor with a tinkling noise. He took up the dustpan and held it still for Jackie while she swept the debris in. When all the glass was contained, he dumped it carefully into the wastebasket by the door.
"Good as new," Warren said.
"Yeah…," muttered Jackie, avoiding his kind, blue eyed gaze. She saw something white drop to the floor out of the corner of her eye.
"Making a mess already…," Warren sighed, picking up the large feather that he'd shed.
"You molting, or something?" Jackie said with a grin, not being able to keep her joke to herself.
"Maybe," he said with an ironic little smirk. He reached over to put it in the garbage.
"Don't throw it away!" Jackie protested, looking alarmed.
"Why not?" Warren asked, confused.
"Well, it's…it's beautiful," Jackie stammered, her cheeks turning pink at her choice of words. "You can't throw it away." Warren looked a little flustered.
"Do you want it?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.
"Er…sure," she said, her cheeks darkening to a full on blush as he handed it to her. It was incredibly soft and unbelievably white. "Thanks…."
"Sure," he replied with an awkward smile.
"Warren, right?" she asked after a beat. He nodded. "Well, er…you look tired, so I'll leave you alone. Dinner's whenever you feel like it, the kitchen's downstairs. My room's down and across the hall, I'm usually in there, if you have questions or something. Um…yeah." She muttered awkwardly.
"Okay," he said with half a chuckle.
"Okay," she said with a sigh and a nod. "Bye." She was halfway down the hall when Warren poked his head out of his doorway.
"Jackie?" he called.
"Yeah?" she asked, turning around.
"See you later," he said. Jackie couldn't hide her smile as she waved before leaving Warren to his own devices. Maybe he wasn't a manipulative bastard. Only time would tell.
Author's note: Some of you may have noticed a little discrepancy on the breed of tree Willow grew for Jean's memorial. In the first one, they were cherry trees and now they're plum trees. I had the dark purple leaved plum trees with the pink blossoms in my head the whole time and I guess I got mixed up last time. So now it's fixed. It's not a big deal, but I thought I'd point it out.
