Title: None of the Above

by: Satine16

Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to me. They are all property of MARVEL. I don't do this for money please don't sue me!

Chapter 7: Cracked Crystal

Her hands plunged into the tepid water splashing from the faucet. It was clean and somewhat refreshing. Squinting through the soap bubbles layered on her face, Jubilee filled her palms with the lukewarm water.

Staring at her fresh, naked face moments later, she contemplated the girl staring back. Was that girl as miserable in her relationship?

"What is he thinking?" she thought to herself as she lifted a brush from the counter. Carefully she began to brush away the stiff texture of the gel. "He's my boyfriend. Christ! He spends more time with that strange Lorna girl than he does with me lately. And Kitty, who the HELL does she think she is spending the night in his room? I haven't even spent the night there yet."

She replaced her brush and rummaged through a makeup bag, removing a royal blue tube of Overnight Skin Clearing Gel.

"Well…I wasn't going to deal alone. Hells yes! Who does he think I am, an idiot?"

Grabbing her toothbrush she began to violently scrub at her teeth.

"Maybe I shouldn't have talked to Peter…oh, well…" she shrugged her shoulders and spit a concoction of blood and toothpaste into the sink.

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"Are you keeping up with your pills?"

"Yes, Hank. All ten of them."

"Good. No unseemly side effects I'm assuming?"

"Nope."

"Well, I want to place you on something to monitor your blood pressure."

Betsy sat in a thin paper robe on the cold metal doctoral table. Hank removed the stethoscope from around his neck as he rolled over to his desk and removed a small pill bottle from his drawer.

"Oh, goody. This will be number eleven," Betsy slipped into her clothing. Her once tight, Chloe jeans sagged loose and baggy on her shrinking frame. Nimbly, she slipped a black t-shirt over her head. The drug therapy had caused her to lose severe amounts of weight. Her cheekbones were sharp as knives, and her violet eyes had lost some of their characteristic sparkle. None of her bras seemed to fit anymore nor did she seem to have much use for them anyway. Hank looked at her shrinking frame and sighed to himself, worried. She didn't seem to him to be improving vastly, and scarier still he wasn't sure how to fix that.

"Elizabeth…Betsy…"

"Hank, I'm trying. Really. But I don't sleep well anymore. Warren is afraid he'll break me and I can't seem to find myself in the mirror. At least, who I was. I've done that once and it was terrible. Sorry that I'm not ecstatic to see it happening again."

"I wish…"

"I wrote to my brothers. I want them to know what's going on. I don't want to die and have them not know. I need to pretend that they'll at least care a little."

She fell against the steel table again, crying. Hank stood and took a step forward in an attempt to console her. She put her hand up, stopping him before he could approach.

Wiping her eyes she lifted her head high and breathed in deeply. Taking two careful steps she took the bottle from Hank, and stared at the images of her brain he had against the light box.

"Goodbye for now, Doctor."

"Betsy…"

"Don't tell Warren."

Silence.

"Please."

"I would never. There is doctor/patient confidentiality you know," he smiled sweetly.

"Thank you."

She turned and opened the door to leave the office. Outside Warren was pacing and waiting for her.

"Well?" his voice quivered a little.

"Same old progress. We're getting somewhere," she smiled and hugged him and Hank watched as he held her tightly and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of her hair.

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"Hello darling."

"Get out."

Since he had moved in next-door Joseph seemed to find the perfect times to invade her space. It was as if he had a sort of radar telling him when Remy wasn't around. She found it annoying, but only slightly.

"What?" Joseph stood in the doorway smiling at Rogue. She had a jade green kimono on, which ended high on her thighs. Her thick hair was pulled up in a sloppy ponytail high on her head.

"What do you want?"

"To spend a little time with you."

"I'm supposed to help Jean out with wedding plans soon. I can't talk."

"Trust me. Jean can wait," he took a step into the room and slammed the door behind him.

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"Rogue?"

"She's not here, Logan," Jean's melodic voice tinkled from behind the large Chinese screen in the corner of the room. A large mirror was set up in the center of the room. It seemed to be waiting for her.

"She said she'd be here."

"Rogue was supposed to meet me, but she's been delayed," he watched her shadow move in the rays of the sunlight. Her beautiful figure behind the beautiful silk fabric. "Well, come in. Close the door. Scott can't see me."

Logan looked leery, but he shut the door silently behind him.

"Why can't he…?"

"Because," she emerged from behind the screen, "It's bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding day."

Logan struggled to find his breath, and his heart had almost stopped beating. She was radiant. The sun sifted into the window behind her, illuminating her like a halo of light around an angel. Her red hair cascaded around her shoulders and glowed in the light. Her pale features seemed almost porcelain.

She was wearing a lovely, vintage looking dress. It had thin straps and a swinging neckline that exposed just the right amount of her cleavage. The dress was loose white satin, and fell over her petite figure in a waterfall of light. It fit her like second skin, tight around the bodice to the hips and flowing outward around her in a wide circle.

"How do I look?"

"Gorgeous."

She smiled and, lifting up the skirt to expose her bare, pedicured feet, ran to the mirror. As she turned away Logan saw her exposed back. The back of the skirt began just slightly above the curve of her butt leaving the vast expanse of flawless skin open to hungry eyes.

He watched her as she modeled in the mirror: half supermodel and half six year old in her mother's pearls.

"How did you find…?"

"The dress already. I knew. I ordered it right after he proposed. I just loved it too much. I think its perfect, don't you?" she seemed so excited.

He nodded and bit his tongue.

Jean turned to look at him. He was staring at the floor.

"Logan…I'm…"

"Scott's a lucky man. Tell Rogue I'm looking for her, okay?"

"Of course," Jean watched him for a moment, searching for his eyes. Suddenly, he looked up and grabbed her with his intense blue eyes. In finding them she found him. She found his sadness. She found his desire to stand here with her forever. All he wanted to do was make that picture his own.

"I should…"

"Wait…"Jean carefully lifted the skirt and padded silently over to him. "I appreciate the fact that you care Logan. I do. Really."

Logan looked deep into her eyes, probing them with his own. Careful not to touch the flawless fabric, he lifted his arm, and placed his dry hand against her soft cheek, watching as she closed her eyes and pressed her cheek to his palm.

"Jean, I…"

"I'm sorry, Logan."

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"Are we at the right airport, Charles?" Emma shoved one hand on her hip as she thrust it out, sick of lingering in the airport.

"I can feel her. She's here," Charles shifted in his seat, waiting for her to arrive. He wore a charcoal colored suit with a pale pink handkerchief in the breast pocket. His blue eyes were positively oceanic and radiant.

Emma stood behind the chair in a tight, white lycra dress. The shoulder straps were mere ribbons and her muscular legs and generous cleavage poured from either end of the dress. On her feet was a pair of white Manolo's with an ankle strap and her hair was secured on one side with a diamond barrette. It fell in rich blonde curls reminiscent of Veronica Lake. Emma had even taken the time to paint her lips with a deep, brick red to fully harness the movie star chic. She was stunning: standing behind the wheelchair, picking her nails, and waiting.

"Charles!" a woman's thickly accented alto voice called from behind. Both members of the welcoming party turned to see another couple waiting.

The man was tall and handsome. He had a messy mop of golden blond hair, a matching goatee and a large, white smile. His skin was somewhat pale and his eyes glistened a root beer brown. He had a solid muscular body and broad shoulders adorned in a pair of worn jeans and an Ireland football jacket.

She was significantly shorter than he. About a foot to be exact. With reddish brown hair cropped in a layered bob and with wispy bangs. Her eyes were a kind shade of amber with flecks of green. She wore a pair of khaki corduroys and no makeup. Her smile was beaming and somewhat crooked.

"Moira," all this anticipation, and his greeting for her escaped on a mere breath.

Emma stood speechless as she watched, one eyebrow raised. This was the love of his life?

"Charles," the man extended his hand and spoke in a friendly Irish brogue.

"Hello again, Sean," Charles took his hand and smiled brightly.

"Hello, Charles," Moira smiled and spoke softly, leaning in and hugging Charles tightly.

"Hello, Moira," Charles wrapped his arms around her awkwardly, and before he could become comfortable with her, she seemed to pull away again to stand upright. His arms hadn't even encompassed her tiny body before she was grinning down at him again. Clearing his throat Charles began to speak, "This is Emma Frost, an instructor at my school."

Emma nodded politely and shook both of their hands. You would only see the challenge nestled deep within her eyes if you were looking for it.

"Ms. Frost, you are stunning."

"Why, thank you!" Emma smiled and flipped her hair as she took Moira's compliment. It took all her strength not to simply respond with 'I know'.

"Why don't we head home? You two must be tired."

"Not really," Sean smiled. "Hungry, though."

"Hank can't wait to see you. And Forge is in town."

"My God! Really?" Moira was now laughing and still smiling. Emma held back the desire to punch her.

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The pounding on Bobby's door was incessant. He had tried to sleep through it, but it wasn't working. Rolling out of bed and scratching his head he rushed to the door, afraid that it would collapse from the banging.

"Hel-" the moment he opened the door a massive hand reached in and grabbed him around the throat. Before Bobby really understood what was happening, Peter had him pressed against the wall, squirming.

"Whareyoudoi?" Bobby gasped as he squirmed above Peter's head. The man had a ridiculous arm span.

"Katya spent the night here!"

"Wha?"

"I thought that we were comrades, Robert. So please explain why my girlfriend spent the night here."

Bobby just stared at his very angry, very scary looking friend.

"NOW!" Peter slammed him into the wall and tightened his grip.

"Oay. Seewaereabowyou."

"What?" Peter's eyes narrowed and he brought his face closer to Bobby's.

"Seesgonkillee," Bobby closed his eyes. "Ittiesregnertwitcherbooby."

Peter leaned back. Slowly his fist released Bobby's throat and Bobby hit the floor like a dying fish as he gasped for air.

"When?"

"I…don't…know…" Bobby spoke between gasps.

"She's pregnant."

"Yes…Kitty…didn't…know…how…to…tell…you…so…she…asked…me…for…advice…and…will…kill…me…for…telling…you."

"Bobby, I am so sorry," Peter's eyes were wide and sad as he slipped his hands underneath his friend's armpits and lifted him to his feet. Smiling down, Peter slapped him on the back.

"No problem," Bobby smiled at regaining usage of his airways. "Who told you she was here?"

Peter frowned, "Jubilee."

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"How do you like ice blue?"

"I like it, I think," Scott smiled as he flopped down on the bed. "I told you before. Whatever color you want darling…it doesn't exactly make a difference to me you know."

"Scott…you want me to have free reign but this is still about US, not just me."

"Ok. I want red roses."

"I told you I want them."

"No. I do."

"What?"

"I just wanted you to think it was your idea," he smiled widely.

Jean smiled back sweetly and bit her lip before leaning in and kissing him. Slowly, she slid her arms around his neck and played with his hair. Wrapping his hands around her sides, he pulled her close to him and rolled, allowing her to lie on top of him. Laughing into the kiss, Scott slid his hand up the back of her shirt and began to tickle her. Giggling uncontrollably Jan flailed around for a minute, and eventually wriggled towards his chest. Lifting up his shirt with her mind, while fighting off his hands with her own she left a big, wet raspberry on his solid abdomen.

Scott smiled and grabbed her, pinning her underneath him and laughed, "You shouldn't have done that!"

He leaned in and did the same thing to her neck making her cackle even harder and flail her legs off the edge of the bed. When he stopped, she lay, like a rag doll, below him on the bed, desperate to catch her breath but smiling.

"I love you," Scott smiled.

Jean just kept smiling and trying to catch her breath.

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"You're sitting in the dark drinking?" Logan's voice pierced the quiet with a gruff chuckle.

"I'm dying, Logan. I can drink alone, in the dark. It won't affect my…character. At least not for long."

Betsy sat in the kitchen with a bottle of red wine. The lights were off and only the small amounts of light from the sliver of the moon crept in. He couldn't see her face, but her newly diminished profile was almost backlit from the picture window. She lifted the bottle and poured herself another glass while he watched.

"Want company?"

"Sure."

Logan wandered over to the fridge and removed a beer from the back. For a moment the black room was flooded with the yellow light from the opened fridge door. From the corner of his eye he could see that she'd been crying.

"You take on that whole bottle?"

"Not yet."

"You supposed to be drinking while you're on those drugs?" he sat across from her at the table in the dark and sipped his beer.

"Probably not."

He took another sip as she ran her middle finger over the rim of the wine glass. She lifted the crystal and the dark liquid touched her full lips. She swallowed it slowly, letting it coat her throat completely.

"Are you about to tell me to get positive? That Hank's sure to fix me?"

"Not my style."

"Good."

They sat in silence a little while longer and he watched as her outline flipped its long hair over its shoulder, took a long sip, and straightened its posture.

"Remember China?" she asked pointedly.

"Yup," he took another swig of his beer.

"That's when this all happened. You were the first one to see the new Elizabeth Braddock."

"I remember."

"We were there for six months."

"Yup."

"Do you ever think about it?"

He held the drink in his mouth for a minute before swallowing, "A couple times. You?"

"Lately."

"Where's Warren?"

"Sleeping. Has Ororo figured out she's not Jean yet?"

Logan took a long swig.

"I see."

"Whaddaya mean you were thinking about China?"

"Shenyang."

"Oh," Logan rested his head on his hand.

"I have no regrets, Logan."

"Bets…darlin'…"

"Let's not talk anymore," her eyes glinted as she poured herself another glass of wine.