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"Friendship is the comfort of knowing there is always a shoulder to lean on, a hand to reach out for, and a heart to welcome me home." --Unknown
"This is one mission which I'm definitely glad is over," sighed Phoenix as the Blackbird came to a stop in the hanger bay. She was beyond exhaustion, more tired than she could ever remember feeling in her entire life. And yet, she did not mind, for her energy had been well-spent. The team had done the task to which they had devoted their existence-- they had saved lives. There had not been a single casualty. So, while she was proud of their performance, she was relieved that the mission was over and that they were home.
"Can't unnerstand why, chere," Gambit said, eyes shining, as he unbuckled his seatbelt. "Jus' cos you single-handedly contained de explosion after de bomb went off in dat building. . . ."
"Not t'mention keepin' the entire thing from collapsin' while we helped evacuate all'a those people," Rogue added as she got to her feet. "Sugah, you deserve a vacation."
"Didn't think you had that in you, Red," Wolverine said, lighting a cigarette.
"We all do what we have to," Jean replied simply, unfastening her own seatbelt.
"We're all proud of ya," Logan said, smiling.
"Yes, you did a remarkable job today, my friend," Storm agreed, turning around from her place in the pilot's seat. "I believe you pushed your powers to the limit and beyond. And you have a great deal to show for it."
"You mean my migraine?" Jean asked with a hint of a smile. "What I need is a nice, long hot soak in a tub, and then I think I'll sleep two or three days straight."
"That ain't such a bad idea," said Rogue. "Ah could use a li'l shut-eye mahself."
"If we be takin' a bath, too, Gambit'll bring de bubbles, neh?" Remy teased, sporting his usual devilish grin.
They all laughed. Stifling a yawn, Jean got up and took a few steps forward. She cried out as her leg accidentally touched against the side of one of the chairs on her way toward the ramp.
"Looks like your first stop is the medi-lab," Logan said, placing a steadying arm around her waist. "That's a nasty cut on your leg. Let's go get McCoy to stitch you up."
Too tired to protest, Jean allowed Logan and Ororo to walk with her to the medi-lab, where they found Dr. Henry McCoy awaiting their arrival, his white lab coat a stark contrast to his blue fur.
"Home are the heroes," he said with a grin that revealed especially long canines. "Not too worse for wear, I see."
"The usual assortment of bruises and scratches," Ororo said.
"'Cept for Jeanie's leg here," Logan said, helping her up onto the exam table.
"It's not as bad as it looks, Hank," she assured him. "I didn't even notice it until I got up just now."
"Let me be the judge of that," he replied, gently extending her left leg straight out in front of her and looking at the inch-long gash on her calf. "You are correct; it is not too serious. Nonetheless, it will require a couple of stitches." Picking up a pair of scissors, he carefully cut away the blood-stained fabric of her uniform around the injured area.
"Any word on Scott's team?" she asked as Hank began to clean her wound. Though she and her husband shared a psychic rapport, when they went on separate missions, she usually decreased the strength of the link to minimize the risk of distraction. She felt the warm comfort of his presence in the back of her mind, but she still wondered about the specifics of the mission.
"Nothing yet. We're on alert, in case they need reinforcements."
Jean nodded. "Feels like I haven't seen him in ages."
"I'm sure he misses you just as much," Hank replied with a smile as he began to stitch the wound. "So, what is this I hear about you single-handedly containing an explosion?"
Jean sighed. "It was nothing, Hank."
"She is too modest," Ororo said, walking closer. She proceeded to tell Hank the tale of their mission and the important part Jean played in it.
"What's that?" Jean asked, seeing Hank preparing a syringe.
"An antibiotic, to prevent infection," Hank replied. "If you would kindly roll up your sleeve?"
"I hate shots," Jean mumbled, but did as he asked. She turned her head away and winced at the tiny pin-prick in her arm.
"Would you like a lollipop?" Hank asked with a teasing smile.
"No, actually, what I need is a soft bed." *Even if Scott's not here to share it,* she finished silently.
Hank walked to a table and counted some tablets into a small vial. "Now, I want you to continue with the antibiotic orally. Take two a day for the next week," he told her, handing her the vial. "But since the shot was long-acting, you don't have to start them until tonight."
"Yes, Dr. McCoy, sir," Jean said with mock sternness. "Thanks, Hank," she added with a warm smile.
Placing his hands on her waist with a gentleness which seemed to defy his large, clawed hands, Hank helped her down from the table. Leaving Hank to tidy up the medi-lab, Jean and Ororo walked into the corridor, where they found Logan greeting Bobby. One did not have to be a telepath to sense that something was wrong.
When Bobby did not welcome them in his typical carefree manner with jokes and sarcastic remarks, they immediately knew something terrible had happened. His forehead was creased with worry, his face unusually pale. He seemed unable to find a place for his hands-- first he tried crossing them across his chest, then he let his arms fall and laced his fingers together, and finally he settled on shoving them into his pockets. He was intently studying the floor, as though refusing to meet their gaze.
"Robert, what is wrong?" asked Ororo. "Did something happen with the other team?"
"No, Scott and the others haven't touched base yet." He still did not look them in the eyes.
"Then what is it?" Logan asked
Bobby swallowed hard. "Sean just called a little over ten minutes ago. A couple of the kids had a run in with Sebastian Shaw and Tessa. . . ."
Though she did not do a full psi-scan, Jean could sense the dread that filled Bobby. Paling, she suddenly felt as though her heart were in her throat. Swallowing hard, she pushed down the panic that was gripping her. From the corner of her eye, she could see Logan tense.
"Which of the children were involved?" Storm asked, voicing the question Jean found herself unable to ask.
Bobby had a pained expression on his face. "Synch and Jubilee."
"Oh, God," Jean muttered softly. She looked at Bobby. "How . . . how badly. . . ?"
"Everett wasn't hurt much-- some cuts and bruises, and an injured shoulder."
"And Jubilation?" Logan asked, pressing him.
Bobby hesitated. "She got the brunt of it. Broken bones, a severe concussion, internal injuries. Sean thinks there might have been some psychic damage as well."
Jean felt Ororo place a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
"There's more. Out with it, Drake. Don't hold anything back from us," Logan growled. His initial frown had since been replaced with an irritated scowl.
Bobby hated being the bearer of such terrible news. "They're operating now. The doctors . . . they. . . ." He paused, his throat suddenly very dry. When he spoke again, the words were little more than a whisper. "They're hoping that she'll survive the surgery."
"No!" Jean cried, her hand flying to her mouth. Not Jubilee. Not sweet, innocent, young Jubilee. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, but she fought them back. It would not do any good to lose control. Her head was reeling. She fought past the exhaustion, the cloudiness in her mind, trying to think straight. Was it just a over a year ago that she had managed to get through to Jubilee-- to break through the hardened exterior the girl had erected around herself in order to spare herself the pain of losing another person she loved? They had grown quite close. Their relationship had stirred many feelings and emotions in Jean, including maternal ones. Now, learning that the girl was so seriously injured, she wanted nothing more than to go to her, to be with her, to help her fight through this so that Jubilee would come back to all of them.
Jean looked at Logan. The anger that had hardened his expression was betrayed only by the worry in his eyes. Their eyes locked, and he knew immediately what she was thinking, for he, too, had the same desire to go to her. He was the first of them to know Jubilee, when she saved him from the Reavers. Logan took the girl under his wing, and the two had been nearly inseparable for the longest time afterward. She was like a daughter to him. She had been through too much already in her young life-- far more than any person should have to endure. He was not going to see it end-- not now, not like this. She still had her whole life ahead of her. He refused to let that be taken from her.
"How long will it take to refuel the Blackbird?" Logan asked Storm.
"Fifteen minutes," Ororo replied.
"Rogue and Gambit are already doing it," Bobby replied. "I ran into them on the way here. It should be ready in under ten--"
"Cyke's team just called in," Hank announced as he bounded into the room on all fours. "They need reinforcements."
Jean looked at him, her feelings suddenly divided. She wanted to go to Jubilee, but she feared her husband and teammates might need her help.
Ororo regarded her friend, and could see the conflict on her face. "We shall help the others. You and Logan should go be with Jubilee."
"But--"
"No time for buts, Red," Logan told her. "Let's get moving."
Hesitating, Jean looked at Ororo. Then, slowly, she nodded. "Thank you," she said, taking her hand and giving it a brief squeeze.
"Be sure to tell Jubilee that our love and prayers are with her," Ororo said.
"I will," Jean told her, even as she levitated herself toward the door.
A moment later, Storm, Beast, and Iceman followed suit, hurrying toward the hanger bay.
End of Prologue