Human After All
Chapter 4
by
Tyna & Utendi
DISCLAIMER: Marvel owns all the characters. No money was made from this corroboration. Thanks to Utendi for this story idea and her endless patience when I was slow with my chapters. There would be no story if it weren't for her.
NOTE: Anything phrases or sentences bordered by an asterix indicates a character is using internal dialogue. The segment author's name is in parenthesis and begins each segment. Feel free to archive. Above all else; ENJOY!
(Tyna)
The silence was so loud it dragged Jubilee out of her deep sleep. Unwilling to open her eyes, Jubilee snuggled further into Logan and tried to regain that blissful state of unconsciousness to no avail.
"Okay, okay, I'm up," she muttered blinking sleep from her eyes. Inches from her nose, the muscles in Logan's powerful chest danced as she watched it rise and fall with his even breathing. Further up, his pulse beat in steady in his neck, like a life unto itself.
She found herself effectively trapped in his harms, almost like a teddy bear. He was warm but not uncomfortably hot. It took a few seconds for her slip an arm out to check his forehead. No fever, she smiled, then grimaced when his breath blew her hair back into her face. *He's even breathing out of his nose* "Now we can go home," she whispered sadness coloring her tone.
Last night's astonishing admissions on both their parts chased away the remaining haze of sleep. She briefly wondered what they were going to do but realized that there wasn't anything to do something about. Did she imagine the look in his eye or was it just wishful thinking? When he said her name, was he going to follow it with 'ya know I love ya, but not that way'? If not what else was there to say? If he had those kinds of feelings for her, would he allow himself to act on them?
Too many ifs too many questions. Jubilee shut her eyes tight against the onslaught. With much wiggling she de-tangled herself from Logan's embrace and stumbled towards the cave's mouth. She needed some air to clear her tumultuous mind. Mud, damp leaves, and water-logged branches lined the sides of her slicker and covered the floor of the entrance. She peeled it back to reveal more mud and junk nearly covering the mouth. Only a hand spans' width was left unencumbered.
Jubilee screamed inwardly. She tore into the mud, digging intensely, not caring when mud covered every inch of her clothing. It served a purpose as she took her frustrations out on the mud.
Logan became increasingly aware that something was different. He swam out of his dreams and awoke to an empty cot. Again his blanket had tangled itself around his ankles, but he didn't remember needing it. The now vacant spot next to him held her warmth. Her scent permeated the rough canvas and clung to his sweat slicked skin.
His senses seemed to be on overdrive with a familiar intensity. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. For the first time in days he felt "normal". "Jubilee," he called quietly. When she didn't answer, he called again. "Jubilee?"
A feral growl was his answer. He opened his eyes in time to register the patch of mud just before it hit his face.
(Utendi)
Slick and cold it slithered down his face, catching in the bristles of his stubble, caressing a path down the bob of his adam's apple. With an answering growl, he backhanded it from his skin. Rising, he ducked from the cave's mouth and into the full wrath of the storm, letting it lash at him fearlessly. The earth was so soft underfoot and seemed unwilling to release him as he stalked forward, hands gathering into fists at his sides.
"Jubilee!" he yelled a third time, demanding now, moving with all the power of a bull gathering for the charge. Even through the gray sheeting f the rain he could smell her: defiance, emotion, and an anguish that, suddenly, seemed so very unlike her. Rain and Jubilee; it filled his head.
There was a flash of her up ahead, trudging rather than running, finding herself just as stuck in the boggy depths of the forest floor and unable to move with her usual lithe grace. The flash of her yellow slicker was he single bright spot, and the thing upon which his eyes to focus, narrow as a hawk above a mouse. Grinding his teeth, blinking against the rivulets of rain that slicked his face, Logan took after her, doubling his efforts to reach her before she could get too far.
She heard him behind her, or perhaps sensed his presence in the uncanny way of all soul companions. "Leave me alone, Logan, please," she groaned out, trying to move faster, ignoring the protesting ache of her legs.
"Are ya' mad, girl? What's the matter with you!"
"Let me go, please!" She stopped, turning sharply, and the blue of her eyes in that moment came as a reeling shock to him: luminous, pleading, and alive within the emotional portrait of her face. His lips relaxed around his teeth, brow furrowing all the harder.
"You ain't goin' anywhere, except back to that cave. Did you get what I have-what are you thinkin'?"
She groaned, buckling to her knees in the mud, clutching at her temples with still-gloved hands. Earth smeared itself across her pale forehead.
"I'm fine... everything is fine... please, you can't fix it this time, Logan-"
"Fix what?" he roared, lurched forward, and grabbed her by the upper arms and trying to haul her upright again. For the first time, Jubilation fought him, thrashing like a young wildcat, her scream of protest strangled by a sob.
Insistently he thrust her backward, pinning her fiercely against the rough bark of a pine, holding her up by the strength of his arms and bowing his rain-beaten face near to hers. In and out his breath roared in short, ragged gasps, teeth clenched, as he battled with himself between emotion and animal instinct. "Tell me," he growled at her, furious and pleading.
Her voice, when it finally cut like a thin blade through the dull rumble of thunder, was the mournful cry of a mother wolf caught in a snare. It was hopelessness and despair, desire and agony. It was everything she was feeling... Everything, Logan realized in an awful epiphany, that she was feeling for him.
She did not have to say it, but she did, turning her face up and meeting his eyes, blue-to-brown, through the assault of the storm. "Logan... I'm in love with you..."
And for the second time, the world stood still. As if his ears had clogged again Logan heard only the swishing thunder of his own heart, separating each moment from the next.
...Beat...
Her face angled up towards him, having lost the naivete and innocence of her girlhood.
...Beat...
Their breathing rising and falling in ragged unison.
...Beat...
The storm lashed against them like an angry child in the throes of a tantrum.
...Beat...
His hands, large and callused, releasing her arms and letting her slump back against the pine. Cupping her delicate face, then, thumbs streaking the mud away from her cheeks, letting tears run clearly from those very blue eyes. He saw her lashes draw softly shut, and two words form upon her lips, swallowed up by the sounds of the storm all around them: I'm sorry.
And then, something altogether new, gathering from the depths of him like the fury which, moments before, had taken possession of him. This, gentler but no less passionate, bends him near to her again, until his mouth crushes awkwardly against Jubilee's own, and they are suddenly kissing, gripping fiercely to one another in the rain.
...Beat...
The taste of her, salty with tears, diluted by rain...
...Beat...
The soft, malleable warmth of her smaller mouth, just as he might have imagined it, if he had not been crowding her out of his head for the past two years. If only he had given in, as he gave in now to the awakening between them.
Parting with a wet click that was lost to the storm, Logan slivered open his eyes, feeling oddly renewed by the sight of her relaxed expression before him: lips still delicately parted, eyes closed, black hair slick against her face, now washed clean of mud. Reopening her eyes, revealing again the unearthly blue of them, Jubilee found new words to mouth in storm-beaten silence.
"Logan," she repeated, this time without anguish. "...I love you..." ...and held her breath, hoping.
*****
(Tyna)
"Ssskkkrrrrrreeeeeeeeraakkittttzz," was all he could get from his comm-unit. Sam Guthrie, a.k.a. Cannonball sat alone in the darkened living room of the Westchester mansion. He had been mopping around for days while Mother Nature took her frustrations out on the world. Sleep continued to elude him and his growing concern for his absent teammates didn't help any.
"Ah give up. All Ah'm getting' is storm interference." Unearthing himself from the couch, Sam paced the room absently rubbing at the small scar across his stomach. He stopped short in front of the large picture window that allowed a 180-degree view of the estate. Memories replayed over and over, taking him back to a time when his whole world changed. Back to when the scar on his stomach was the last he'd ever get.
By all rights, Cannonball should be dead. Years ago in a fight for the lives of his former teammates, Sam had been fatally wounded. He woke to find that he was alive and going to live forever. It was, needless to say, mind-blowing. Sam's eyes roved over the gray-cast lands trying to come to peace with his haywire thoughts.
Out of nowhere hot fire dripped down his chest like acid and settled on his scar. Frantically he looked down, only to find nothing there. As suddenly as it started, the pain disappeared. Sam blinked, unable to hazard a guess as to what was going on. He smoothed his hand over the firm muscles and quickly snatched his hand away. The scar began to pulse, hot and painful but not bleeding.
"What inna hairy heck?" Sam stumbled down the hallway leading to Medlab. The pain was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. Then, like a fresh breeze through a window long closed, he remembered the last time he'd felt this 'pain without injury' sensation. It was a warning or perhaps an announcement that another External was being born.
Clutching his stomach, Sam ran the remaining distance to Medlab. A name sliced through his mind. He reeled, crashing heavily into the threshold. "Jubilee," he gasped and passed out. Jean caught him before he hit the ground. Her mental alarm drew everyone out of hiding. She telekinetically placed Sam on an exam table, cradling his face in her hands. Tilting her head slightly forward, Jean probed his unconscious mind.
Normally she didn't do this. Not invading someone's mind without their permission was one of her strictest rules. Circumstances had, however, changed. *Sam...Wake up Sam. We need you right now. What about Jubilee...*
******
Logan wasn't given the chance to say what his heart was telling him. Raw electricity cut a swath through the sky straight at the unsuspecting couple. With reflexes borne of countless hours of training Logan shoved Jubilee away from him and threw himself backward just before the blazing beam passed between them.
It struck the tree they had been standing under and charged the air with thick static, making it difficult to breathe. The base of the tree splintered, sounding much like a clap of thunder. Another resounding snap and it fell with sickening precision to the ground right onto Jubilee.
Her scream rose above the storm, shrill and pain ridden. A broken branch had saved her from the crushing full weight of tree but it had impaled her chest straight through her heart. Jubilee's eyes bugged and blood burst from her mouth. She clawed desperately at the branch her movements becoming slower, more sluggish, in time with her badly damaged heart. "Goodbye Wolvie," she moaned, barely audible.
But he heard her, even over his grief stricken roar. Like a white-hot burning blade upon raw flesh he howled with ever fiber of his being. The sheer force burst every blood vessel in his eyes. He dashed tears and blood from his eyes in furious, impatient gestures and slipped into a berserker rage unlike anything he'd ever gone through.
This time he didn't fight it, he embraced it. The world, literally, turned red. Perception focused down to a narrow point. Six blades appeared from his hands as he struggled from the mud that sucked at his legs. Adrenaline pumped through his supremely muscled body, adding fuel to his rage. In no time he was by her side.
Blood scent hung in dense layers, surrounding him in an intoxicating cloud. There was so much blood. He bent down to sniff her chest, keen ears catching the very faint beat of her heart. Humanity swam back into control but only on the surface. The berserker remained underneath, waiting for an outlet.
*Alive, she's still alive* he thought and appraised the situation in a matter of seconds. Although not very large the tree's weight made it impossible for him to lift. The rain continued to fall in solid sheets, making the bark slippery and his footing unsure. Jubilee eyes were fading, her life spilling out onto the mud. Frustrated, he felt the berserker resurface clinging like a second skin.
His claws bit into the wood in frenzied slashes. Blood, tears and rain, constantly blurred his vision, but his continued to rage. The tree didn't stand a chance. With a final cut, he severed the broken branch at its base. Concern for Jubilee overrode and diffused his rage. He gathered her gently in his arms; the branch still embedded in her chest.
Jubilee stirred slightly and focused in on Logan's face. 'Don't cry' she mouthed, unable to speak. He gave her a wane smile, adjusting his grip on her body and wrapped his fingers around the branch. "I'm sorry darlin' but it has to come out," he said, tone devoid of any feeling. Any show of emotion would shatter him into a million pieces. At her very slight nod, his arm tensed, cording with effort, and ripped the branch from Jubilee's chest. She didn't have anything left in her to scream. Her body shuddered once, then went limp.
Logan fell apart. He clutched her still form to his chest, rocking back and forth, then bent over her to bury his face in her neck. Blood smeared across his face and chest but he didn't pay them any mind. Suddenly he lifted his face skyward allowing tears to flow freely. It started from his toes and built steadily in his chest, gathered force as it passed through his throat, and spilled out through teeth bared in a feral grimace. For miles around his keen echoed, ending with three heart-felt words, "I LOVE YOU..."
******
"My God, what was that?" Jean floated in her teke-shield, protected from the rain. The rest of the team had fanned out to broaden their search pattern. They paused to get a bearing on that single call in the forest.
Sam clung to Hank's back and listened for a moment. His belly cramped in a single spasm that took his breath away. "We're close," he managed to squeeze out before the pain became overwhelming.
(Utendi)
Hank paused, heels sinking in the soft earth, waiting for the man to recompose himself.
"Easy, my young friend... we'll find her."
"No," Jean interrupted, fingertips brushing her temples as she stared more urgently, more intently into the wooded darkness. "Something is... wrong..."
"Wrong how?" Cyclops breathed, the words misting in the chill air before a wind caught them up, and spirited them off. Gazing at Jean too long was like gazing into the center of the sun; he looked away from her, towards the convoy of X-Men slowly and patiently bringing up the rear, and he still saw phantoms images of her silhouette burned into his eyes.
"Wrong... like..." Her pale brow furrowed, and without waiting for the slogging sound of her companions' footfalls she glided ahead of them. "I don't know--Scott, we have to hurry."
"...Hurry," Sam agreed weakly, his head lolling limply against Beast's back. Consciousness abandoned him altogether.
Rogue hovered a few careful inches above the worst of the muddy mess underfoot, alternating her gaze between the black, toothy maw of the forest, and a very sodden Cajun keeping time at her side.
His coat was dark with rainwater, hair hanging across his brow in sharp, dripping spikes, and every so often she caught him strenuously stifling a sneeze against one hand, weak with fever. He looked up at her, the red-on-black of his eyes frightfully bright, and still bewitching in the drizzling darkness.
"Ah wish you would have stayed in bed like ah asked you, Cajun," she admonished, exasperated with him.
His rueful reply came after a short cough. "Me too, chere... but so long as petite is in trouble, Gambit is going to help."
The glow of the Phoenix ribbed in radiant rays through the trunks of pines up ahead, and although the X-Men could no longer see her, they followed her light like the pious in pilgrimage. The rain lashed at them, furious at their invasion of the night, until at last they came upon the full glow of Jean Gray as she hovered over their missing companions, missing no longer.
Visible beyond Jean's luminous presence was Logan's bowed back something pale and limp cradled in his arms, his body rocking very slightly back and forth. A slender forearm sagged lifelessly from his grasp, the fingers drooping in the mud, threaded by rivulets of bright red.
Rogue whispered, "My God..."
Sam cried out from his daze.
Thunder crashed.
In the terrible silence of its wake, as Jean lowered herself alongside Logan, Storm lifted her arms to ease the gale still assailing them from all sides.
"Logan... is she..." Jean whispered. He refused to answer, and gave no response to the touch that she placed upon his shoulder. Rocking, rocking, like he could return rhythm to the fragile heart of the broken girl. His eyes were open, still shocked with the agony of realization. In a silent semi-circle the others gathered around them: Rogue, Gambit, Storm, Jean, Scott, Beast, and Sam, all keeping confused and mournful vigil over the terrible tableaux, trying to make sense of it.
Frustrated, Scott stepped forward, reaching out to brush Jean's shoulder with his fingertips. He nearly recoiled at the sudden and unexpected surge of emotion from her... he could not remember a time when she had so clearly projected her anguish. Her eyes, when she finally did turn to him, were full of something awful and guilty; something she refused to give voice to.
"Jean," he murmured, leaning nearer to her. "...What happened here..."
"It's Jubilee..."
He looked, then, watching Logan rocking in grim silence before recognition hit him. There was a flash of black hair, a gleam of bright yellow against the red and brown of the bloodied Earth. Jesus, it really was her...
When the silence of the others persisted, when Logan gave no acknowledgement to their presence, and when the thunder again rolled menacingly overhead, he made a difficult decision for all of them.
"...Let's take her home..."
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