Chapter 7: To Kill a Mockingbird
A/N: So, we're almost at the end now. I just want to thank every single person out there who has been following this story since it began, as well those who have just read some of it. I especially want to thank ALL the reviewers who have let me know that I'm not writing this for empty space. I know it's been said before, not just by me, but the reviews really are greatly appreciated. I also want to apologise for my spaced out writing. I have 4 siblings and only one PC in the house, as well as a continuous mountain of schoolwork. Thank you for your patience.
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me except for Jeanie and Dr Ross. Lucky Marvel…
An incredibly high-pitched shriek, full of pain, echoed through the corridors of the large mansion. Students sat up from watching The O.C. in astonishment. Storm, sitting in her study, dropped her fountain pen. Some of the younger students whimpered. And both Bobby and Logan ran for the garden.
Logan reached the wailing Rogue first. She was clutching Jeanie, her arms clasped tight around the frail torso, rocking backwards and forwards. When Bobby arrived, he stood still, staring at his little girl. Logan was trying to pull Rogue off Jean.
"Bobby, gimme a hand!" shouted Logan.
Bobby remained frozen and silent.
"Bobby! We've got to get Jeanie to the med. lab! HELP ME!"
Bobby snapped back to life. He grabbed Rogue, and with strength he didn't know he had, pulled her away, almost tossing her aside. He scooped up Jean in his arms, and ran for the medical lab.
A crowd of students had gathered at the scene, and as they parted to let Bobby through, they turned to the sorry sight before them. Professor Logan, the gruff teacher you didn't dare answer back to, had tears streaming down his cheeks. He was clutching a wailing Miss D'Ancanto, usually so smiling and composed, now tear-stained and to all appearances, mad.
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A heavy silence hung over the med. lab. waiting room. Logan paced up and down, growling and muttering, lighting cigar after cigar before putting them out in the palm of his. The pain was a distraction.
Bobby was leaning against a wall, head in his hands, tears trickling down his cheeks, murmuring prayers remembered from his childhood.
But Rogue was the scariest. She was sitting dead upright, hands resting on her legs, staring at the doors into the lab. Her face was the colour of chalk, and between her fingers she crumpled a pair of black silk gloves, resurrected from a dusty shoebox in her dresser drawer.
Bobby glanced over at her, and in a cold, harsh voice he didn't recognise himself, he said: "Bit late, now isn't it?"
Logan growled. "Watch it, Icecube…"
Rogue shook her head. "He's right Logan," she whispered. "I should have realised it was too good to be true." And for the first time in 6 years, Rogue clothed her hands in gloves.
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The hours ticked by. Bobby slid to the floor, head drooping. Logan spread out on the hard plastic chairs, yawning. Only Rogue remained sitting upright, staring straight, almost willing her eyes to see through the doors, and to see her baby, her precious, her Jeanie, lying unconscious and unaware.
Finally, Dr. Ross and Dr Hank McCoy (who had rushed back from Washington to lend his medical services) emerged from the lab, looking haggard and exhausted.
Dr Ross stepped forward, her face full of sorrow. She spoke hesitantly, her voice cracking.
"I am so sorry…."
"NO!" shouted Bobby.
"Jean is not responding to noxious stimuli-"
"What the hell does that mean? Speak English, Doc" interrupted Logan.
"I'm afraid she's not showing any signs of neurological activity…she's brain dead."
Rogue whimpered, as Bobby screamed, begging Dr Ross to do something, anything to save his little girl…
Dr Ross continued, her voice faltering as she began to break down.
"At the moment a respirator is breathing for her, but- but sooner or later… you will have t-to turn it off…"
Rogue got up from her seat slowly. "Sooner rather then later," she said without feeling. "No need to put it off, hey?"
Bobby snapped, and lunged at her.
"HOW CAN YOU BE SO COLD, YOU STUPID COW? YOU'VE KILLED YOUR –OUR DAUGHTER, AND NOW YOU CAN JUST PULL THE PLUG LIKE THAT? WHAT KIND OF PERSON ARE YOU?"
Logan pulled Bobby off Rogue, as she stood still and silent, accepting Bobby's blows without a word.
"Rogue is right. You're both suffering, why let it hurt for longer than it has to? We're all hurting Bobby," said Logan. "Jean was like a daughter to all of us. All we can do now is say goodbye."
He let go of Bobby, who crumpled to the floor. Logan turned to Rogue, taking her gloved hand gently.
"Come on Rogue."
As they walked into the lab, Bobby followed them slowly. Jeanie was lying on a bed, her silky brown hair fanning across the pillow like a halo. A tube fed down her throat, breathing for her. Her frail chest moved up and down slowly.
Logan dropped Rogue's hand and stepped forward, leaning over the bed. He sat on the edge, stroking Jeanie's hair.
"I know you can't hear me, but its Uncle Logan here. I never told you how much you look like your mom, did I? You know, I met your mom in the back of a camper van? In the trailer, actually. She was hiding, just like you when we play Hide and Seek. I was gonna take you camping someday, kid. Up into Canada, into the Rockies…They have grizzly bears up there, you know, like your teddies. But who knows, maybe you're looking at the Rockies right now. Remember to count the bears for me, ok kiddo? I love you, kid. Goodnight, don't let the bed bugs bite…"
Logan's gruff voice cracked as he said goodbye, and he lifted a weather-beaten hand to wipe away a tear or two. He turned around, and as he walked out, whispered to Bobby: "She needs you, Bobby. Don't let her down." Logan shut the doors behind him and Bobby and Rogue were left to say one last goodnight to their daughter. Bobby slipped his hand into Rogue's.
"Let's do this together."
Rogue nodded silently, edging towards the bed. She climbed onto it, and curled up beside Jeanie, hugging her tight and stroking her cheek. Bobby sat on the other side of the bed and held Jean's hand, as Rogue began to sing.
"Hush now baby, don't say a word,
Mamma's gonna buy you a mocking bird;
And if that mocking bird don't sing,
Mamma's gonna buy you a diamond ring;
And if that diamond turns to brass,
Mamma's gonna buy you a looking glass;
And if that looking glass gets broke,
Mamma's gonna buy you a billy goat;
And if that goat does run away-
Mamma's gonna buy you another, today…"
Rogue kissed her baby on the forehead. "Goodbye, my precious. I will always be thinking of you, always. I love you, my darling, my precious, precious baby. Goodbye, Jeanie."
Bobby whispered in Jean's ear, tears and goodbyes mingling together. Rogue grasped Bobby's hand, as he leant across and flicked off the respirator. The monitors flat-lined, and little Jeanie slipped away, leaving her parents utterly lost and utterly alone.
A/N: This was the most difficult chapter to write, and probably the most difficult thing I've ever written. It's hard to accurately communicate emotions and feelings onto paper, especially in a situation so traumatic. Only 2 chapters to go. PLEASE, PLEASE REVIEW. I LOVE ALL MY READERS, BUT I CAN'T LOVE YOU IF I DON'T KNOW YOU'VE READ!