Human After All
Chapter 3
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 this story. Above all else; ENJOY!
(Utendi)
The comlink in Jubilee's pack crackled discreetly in the background, and amidst the other soft noises within the cave there came an additional voice, curious.
"...Petit?"
(Tyna)
Gambit waited patiently, but had to stay alert. If anyone found him in the basement doing this, he'd be dog meat for sure. A rustling sound, a growl, and someone coughing drew him back from his thoughts.
"Okay Gumbo you have about thirty seconds to explain why you are calling." Jubilee couldn't keep the irritation from her voice. She thumped Logan's back to ease his coughing fit and waited for the Cajun's reply.
" 'S nut'ing petit. Gambit jus' wan' you to know he thin's you doin' th'right t'ing. "
Jubilee expected another attack on her competence not a rousing approval. Her blistering comment went the way of the wind. Caught unawares, she tried to come up with an appropriate response and was suddenly jarred off the cot by alternating series of coughing and sneezing.
"You under 'ttack petit?"
"Inna manner of speaking, yes."
Gambit heard her stamping gait and winced as a pot was slammed in the midst of a muttering stream of dire promises. At first he though she was speaking to him, but realized he wasn't the target of her present ire.
"...Of all the thick headed...don't look at me in that tone of voice...no you listen to me...will take this even...shove it down...miserable throat" Gambit stifled a chuckle and strained to hear more.
Jubilee handed Logan a cup of water and a small pill, daring him with her eyes to fight her on this. The comm-unit lay forgotten in her other hand as she watched him struggle to swallow it down. She resumed her perch on the cot, anger already giving way to concern, and guided his head back into her lap. A few short breaths later Logan was snoring quietly.
"Dat's de way to show him, petit"
Jubilee stared dumbly at her hand. It was talking to her. "Oh Gambit...sorry...completely forgot you were there."
(Utendi)
She heard the Cajun give a long, slow sigh on the opposite end of the connection.
"I hear 'dat just th' other day from Rogue. An' here I am, t'inking maybe I'm losing my touch."
In spite of her dwindling anger, Jubilee gave a slight grin to his comment, and shook her head. All right... so it was a little reassuring to hear a voice from home. Should she bother asking Gambit for some advice?
Then again... what did he know about taking care of someone who was under the weather? Besides, if Logan ever found out she'd gone prodding 'The Cajun' for nursing tips, there would be no end to the bitching.
"Listen, Gumbo, I really appreciate your vote of confidence, but the thing is-"
"Gambit can take a 'int, petit, non regret. But before he go, one question..."
"Fire away..."
"Jus' how you figure Logan is gettin' sick to begin wit', mm?" It was the very question that had been niggling at her all night. Crimping the corners of her mouth into a troubled little frown, Jubilee reached down, once again touching Wolverine's sideburns, trailing the dark growth where it blended from his hairline, down along the still-clenched angle of his jaw. Even in sleep he was frowning, though turned unconsciously to nose against her thigh. Shivers, like something out of a fevered dream, raced the length of her spine.
"Petit?" his voice, now quizzical.
Realizing she hadn't answered yet, the young woman was forced to confess, "I don't have any idea. I was hoping that, while we were gone, Hank could maybe knock a few ideas around. Maybe you could sort of... ask around for me, Remy..."
"I do my best, chere-you jus' take care o' your friend, neh? Wit'out him, who else Gambit going to taunt until he cries like a little fille..."
Around a smirk, Jubilee managed to get out, "I'll tell him you said that when he wakes up."
Gambit began to reply, but the connection was suddenly disturbed by the sound of the cajun catching his breath, and releasing an evidently unexpected sneeze. The noise gave her definite pause, and she found herself squinting at the comm.
"Gambit?"
"...Excusez, petit. Don' know where dat come from."
"Uhr... Gambit... how are you feel-"
"Au revoir, now."
And he was gone, just like that-leaving her alone in the snoring silence with Logan, fitting a new piece into the puzzle. Gambit couldn't be sick, could he? Well, could he? Except did that mean that he'd given it to Logan, or the other way around, or... or had they both gotten it from some completely different source. And why wasn't she sick?
She wracked her brain, trying to think of anything out of the ordinary that she might have noticed, in the previous days, but it was impossible. With so many people at every turn within the mansion, who thought to keep a look out for random sniffles?
Perhaps it was time to task Rogue to keep a closer eye on the Cajun, as well. Logan shifted slightly, crushing his cheek against her lap before again going quiet, draping an arm over her legs. The slumber of the feral...
(Tyna)
*No, not a beast, just a very sick man* she reprimanded herself. Too many people accused him of being that and Jubilee wasn't going to add herself to the list. Taking care of a sick Logan reminded her of the first time she'd met him. Their situation had been similar. Isolated, cut off from the rest of the X-Men, hiding.
The storm continued to rage for two days straight. Nearly everyone in the team had "checked in", except for Rogue. When she got back the mansion, Jubilee was going to have a long talk with them about keeping promises.
Logan still fought her about the pills but she'd sneak them into his soup. They melted nicely. Besides, his nose was so stuffed that everything tasted bland. He hated being spoon-fed. It lacked a certain dignity but when his head throbbed from sitting up a little, he gave up complaining entirely and allowed Jubilee to take care of him.
"What no, 'Darlin' if you shove that spoon in my mouth one more time I'm gonna bust your ass'? Jubilee asked grinning ear to ear. After the last spoonful, Jubilee set the bowl down to rub her palm across Logan's forehead. A slight frown of concentration furrowed her brows, *he still has fever* she thought as she moved her hand away, and nearly jumped out of her hide when he caught her hand to replace it back on his cheek.
Confused, Jubilee stared into Logan's eyes, searching for answers. Everything came to a standstill. Background noises faded into oblivion. In a moment of weakness she put what she felt into her eyes: love, admiration, total devotion, regret, despair, longing. Every emotion she'd ever felt for, with or about him flooded her eyes with tears. Quietly they slipped down her cheeks.
A surge of pain ripped through his heart that had nothing to do with his sickness. In that moment he regretted his stubbornness, his blindness to her feelings as well as his own. She meant so much to him. His eyes glittered behind a curtain of tears. "Jubilee," He stopped as her fingers laid gently against his lips, then brushed his tears away.
"Later!" she pleaded and buried her face in his chest, "Just get well, okay?" the last coming out as a sob. He let her cry herself to sleep; it was all he could do. Cuddling her close, he pillowed her head with his shoulder. Stray strands of her shoulder length hair fell across his face, tickling his nose. Manfully he held back the sneeze, which popped his ears.
Sound abruptly returned. The wind no longer howled, just whispered, but the rain still beat with relentless fury. Parts of the cave's ceiling were leaking, drops forming small pools in depressions in the floor. Each drop seemed like a bomb exploding. Under it all he heard a faint buzzing. The comm-unit on Jubilee's wrist flashed just under Logan's chin.
"Hai sugah. It's Rogue. Come in Jubes. Ah think ah know, at least, who made Logan's sick."
"Kept it down, darlin', she's asleep," he rasped and heard Rouge's sharp intake of breath. Several seconds passed in static. "Rogue?"
"Look mistah! If'n ya don' git yer miserable butt back in that bed, yer gonna be sorrier'n a momma dog on weanin' day!" was Logan's answer. "Rogue?" was the only word he could get in edgewise.
"Sorry Logan, but Remy is prob'ly a tougha customah than ya'll. He's is sicker'n mah cousin afta smokin' one o' Daddy's cigars." One long explanation and several threats later Logan shut off the comm-unit.
"So it seems the Cajun had the bug and gave it to me. Great! Now I know whom to thrash when we get home," Logan whispered into Jubilee's hair, knuckling his eyes.
As slow as sunrise, a thought drifted into his fever-weakened brain. Elated Logan quickly pulled back his fist so he could focus in on the knuckles. They were healed, completely, scars now just swatches of pink, new skin. *It's about flamin' time* he thought and tried to calculate when his healing factor would kick this stupid flu. One more good sleep should do it, he hoped.
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