Chapter Sixty-One: Misunderstood (Explicit)

Behind the wheel, the blond Adonis sombrely focused his blue eyes on the winding road ahead. Many times he had made this journey, especially when he was commuting between his offices in midtown Manhattan to the school. It was a journey he often regarded with fondness.

This trip, however, was marred by a sense of loss that seemed to drape over the entire vehicle.

Although he now divided his time between his penthouse apartment and the mansion, the latter owned a special place in Warren’s heart. There, acceptance was the norm because of shared experiences not due to his position of power. This commonality among all who resided there fostered an environment that was reminiscent of a family rather than a collection of individuals bound by a struggle against society’s misperceptions. At Xavier’s, he discovered a purpose beyond his own existence which allowed him to develop from the stereotypical spoiled rich kid to a man with depth and insight into his responsibilities.

It was this maturity that allowed him to cultivate lasting friendships. Unlike his romantic involvements, his peer relationships were, for the most part, uncomplicated by his traumatic past. Although the bouts of brooding and moodiness exasperated his friends, their understanding of what fuelled this behaviour was different than that of the women he dated. Betsy and later, Paige perceived his wariness of being completely forthright as detrimental, attributing the emotional distance he imposed not only to his experience as Death but also to a general wariness of giving up his single life. This was ultimately followed by pleas to dismantle these metaphorical walls in order to build a healthier and more functional relationship.

Meanwhile, his aloof presentation was evaluated less negatively among his friends. They him tended to see his actions as misguided attempts to shield them from the darkness he harboured. Those closest to him had witnessed first-hand his horrific transformation and the emotional damage it caused. Even though he no longer bore the physical remnants of this experience, they understood that fundamental changes had taken place and that these alterations would forever haunt him. While Hank, Bobby, and Kurt took it upon themselves to remind Warren of his humanity by introducing levity into their interactions, it was the efforts of someone else that truly affected him.

Jean Grey.

The statuesque redhead had been his first love. Unfortunately, the feelings were not mutual. Despite Warren’s initial disappointment over this rejection, he accepted the remaining option of friendship. With intimacy removed from the equation, he quickly discovered the nuances of a platonic relationship with a woman. There was little need to impress with demonstrations of his masculinity and refinement. In a way, Warren found the dynamics between himself and Jean much more comfortable. The rapport with her allowed him to feel comfortable without every word being subjected to some sort of analysis.

Following his metamorphosis, it was Jean who persisted in helping him reject the darkness that threatened to consume him. She patiently sorted through the denial, fear, rage, and self-pity to guide him to acceptance. When Warren would deride her efforts and lash out, the graceful redhead did not break down or flee. Instead, she remained calm and insisted the only thing she truly wanted was for her good friend to return. The altruistic nature of her intentions had finally shattered the barrier he had constructed. For that, Warren was eternally grateful to Jean.

Now she was gone.

The CEO of Worthington Industries blinked back tears, forcing himself to focus on the road ahead. The conference call he and Hank had with Logan had been a surreal one. There were points in the conversation when they questioned the validity of what was being relayed. Surely, it could not be true. Yet, the bereaved quality of Logan’s normally Stoic voice was undeniable. It was what compelled them to quickly cancel their speaking engagements in order to travel back to Westchester.

As they made their way out of the city, the two friends tried to reconcile the reality of the loss. Due to her recent health problems and their own hectic schedules, they had seen less of the telepath. During the few instances when the three friends managed to run into each other, Jean was always ready with a gracious smile and warm words. The last time Warren saw her was several days prior to his trip to New York with Hank. She looked exhausted and preoccupied, but insisted that her condition was transient. The blond playboy, distracted by thoughts of his upcoming keynote speech, did not concern himself any further. Instead, Warren made what he later construed as a blithe comment about making more of an effort to get together before departing her company to pack.

Braking at a traffic light, he frowned bitterly. Warren hated the fact that his last recollection of his dearest friend involved him acting so unconcerned for her well-being. Even though he knew his intentions were not as such, it was difficult for him not to feel remorseful over their final exchange. It seemed insulting to Jean’s memory, especially after everything they had been through. Looking back, Warren wished he handled things differently. He yearned for another opportunity to meaningfully connect with her and to let her know what kind of influence she had on his life.

But it was too late.

His blue eyes glanced over at Hank, who was sitting in the passenger’s side seat. Golden beams from the setting sun bathed his blue fur in a soft light, contrasting against the gloomy expression he wore. Usually one to engage in conversation, Hank was uncharacteristically quiet as he stared listlessly out the window. In short, the man seated next to Warren was the complete foil to the Hank McCoy that he knew.

Although he had experienced his share of disappointments and losses over the years, it was quite evident that Jean’s death hit Hank hard. The two had been quite close. In addition to sharing similar personality traits (loyalty, patience, understanding, and warmth), they had common hobbies and interests. Jean was one of the few around the mansion who appreciated Hank’s quoting of literary classics. Every summer, they would make an excursion to Manhattan for the Museum Mile Festival, when all nine museums opened their doors for a few hours, free of charge to any and all. After his break-up with Trish Tilby, Hank was left with a pair of concert tickets for the National Symphony Orchestra in Washington, DC. Rather than allow him to sell them, Jean volunteered to accompany her friend for a night of Mahler.

When the redhead was asked to relinquish some of her responsibilities, Hank volunteered his services along with Emma. However, his approach differed from that adopted by the White Queen. Warren knew the Ivy League-trained biochemist and geneticist sought Jean’s counsel and worked hard to keep her involved. It seemed to be the other man’s way of keeping their friend’s spirits up in the face of her health concerns. Their collaborative efforts also served to rekindle the tight-knit nature of their friendship—something Hank had missed while he had been with the Avengers.

Given all of this, it was no surprise that Hank was reeling in shock and disbelief over the news. When they were driving to Long Island, he told Warren that it was inconceivable to think that they would never see Jean again. His voice seemed to crack when he discussed the most recent conversation he had with her. Plans had been made to discuss Emma’s proposed changes to the curriculum. While he did not share his colleague’s opinion of the icy blonde (he and Emma happened to be good friends as well), Hank had been willing to hear opposing arguments—provided that he not be caught in the middle. It had been a position he often found himself in, much like Scott. Reflecting on this last exchange, Hank confessed to Warren he felt badly about where things had been left and the triviality of it all. It was a sentiment they sadly shared now.

It had been Hank’s idea to notify Bobby. Out of the original five, it was the young man who had been the closest to Jean. Similar to her relationship with Hank, the dynamics between the graceful redhead and Bobby was devoid of any romantic leanings. Instead, it was reminiscent of a sibling dynamic, where she often played the role of doting older sister. She was always the first to defend him whenever Scott or Logan would become irritated with Bobby’s antics as well as the first to approach him whenever it was evident he felt uncertain about his place on the team. When Bobby began dating Jubilee, Jean took on the role of staunch ally once again. She had been the one to placate her husband and Logan in order to ease their wariness about the young couple.

In light of this, Hank was convinced that Bobby would immediately join them in the journey to the school. When the large, feline-like man relayed his intentions to Logan during the conference call, Warren was somewhat surprised by the reception. While Logan and Bobby were by no means bosom buddies, one would have thought the two men would have overcome their differences in order to come to some form of an understanding. Yet, Warren and Hank were taken aback when the gruff loner made a comment about Bobby being better off to grieve alone. When Hank asked for clarification, Logan remained vague. Before hanging up, he told them that Bobby should be careful about returning to the school.

Initially, the cryptic messages had been attributed to grief. After all, this was a man who had feelings for Jean spanning several years. Her death and the fact that he had been present when it occurred were probably emotionally damaging to a man who seemed to bear endless psychological scars. The shocking circumstances surrounding her demise was yet another factor to consider. In Hank’s opinion, it was probable that Logan was simply taking out his frustrations out on available targets.

Warren found himself agreeing to this conclusion at first. The reaction was not completely out of the realm of possibilities. In fact, it seemed to be completely in line with Logan’s character. Having had his share of altercations with the dark loner, Warren was well aware of the other man’s propensity to lash out at the world. Despite the strides made with Jean and Xavier’s assistance, it was clear that the man continued to be hounded by demons from his past.

However, the blond playboy became less convinced after arriving at the Drake home.

After delivering the devastating news, he and Hank had watched as familiar feelings of shock wash over their young friend. The image of Bobby holding onto the mantle for support while his face drained of colour was indelible. A heavy silence sank upon all three of them as they tried to come to terms over the loss. It was a moment that would be permanently etched into their consciousnesses.

Following what seemed like eons, the winged Adonis had been the first to speak. While he shared his friends’ need to grieve, he had been mindful of his promise to return to the mansion as soon as possible. Logan had made it clear that available resources were stretched thin between the investigation and planning Jean’s funeral. Warren had brought this up, emphasizing the imperative nature of their journey to Westchester. A bereaved Hank had agreed, noting the multitude of things to be taken care of.

Part of Warren had expected Bobby to acquiesce immediately given his relationship with Jean and his loyalty to the school. It would not have been unheard of for him to race to the car without packing his bags. But given the circumstances of his recent sojourn to Long Island, Bobby’s response would be tempered out of consideration for his parents. Based on his haggard appearance and subdued presentation, it had been evident that his family situation was taking its toll. For a moment, Warren had considered withdrawing his request for Bobby to join them.

Before he could even broach the subject, the young man took a long, hard look at the staircase and sighed. His expression had been a mixture of ambivalence and despondency. Then in a strangely flat voice, he told his friends that he would be accompanying them back to the school. Stunned, Hank had inquired if his mother would be able to endure by herself. Grey eyes dull, Bobby had replied that his father had made some miraculous progress and that his assistance would no longer be required.

The response had struck both men as bizarre. While one could characterize the relationship between the Drake men as strained at best, any change in the originally grim prognosis should have elicited a positive reaction. Instead, Bobby seemed to regard the news impassively.

Warren’s early impressions of his friend’s seemingly shell-shocked presentation focused the multiple stressors impinging upon Bobby at that moment. The sudden onset of the elder Drake’s stroke and the severity of the consequences probably left Bobby reeling on a continual basis. Acting as caregiver to his father and to some extent, his mother, could not have been easy for him, either. To top all of that off, learning that one of his best friends had suddenly died must have brought him to the brink.

However, this theory failed to account for the apprehension that flashed across the younger man’s face when Hank brought up Jubilee. Specifically, it was his comment about how the young firecracker would be pleased to see him again. Bobby’s body language seemed to reflect a desire to flee—grimacing, shifting his weight from foot to foot, refusing to meet his friends’ concerned gazes, and crossing his arms over his chest. It was a stark contrast to the cheery and almost dreamy smiles provoked by the mere mention of her name.

The tall, blond, winged CEO had been perplexed. He would have thought that being reunited with Jubilee would have been a bright spot for Bobby. After all, this was the man who recently confided to his good friends that he had never been happier. Instead, it seemed the very idea of seeing her again roused a palpable sense of anxiety in Bobby.

A series of questions had been perched on the tip of his tongue but Warren found himself stymied when his friend abruptly took his leave. Reeling from his observations, the blond playboy decided to consult with Hank. The larger man had appeared equally confused and troubled. Shaking his head glumly, his cat-like features had arranged themselves into a tense expression. Clearly, Hank was struggling to reconcile this version of Bobby with the prankster who shared his love of strawberry pancakes.

Over the years, Warren had become adept at deciphering other people’s nonverbal cues. It was a skill he developed under Xavier’s tutelage. Not only was it a tactical asset for field assignments, but it proved to be an excellent tool in the negotiating room as well. Of all his team mates, Hank McCoy was an easy read. Despite the drastic alterations to his physical appearance, the mansion’s resident genius sometimes struggled to maintain a mask of indifference in certain situations. This was particularly true when he was forced to lie, which made him a notoriously lousy poker player and a rarely used operative during missions. It also undermined his ability to keep a secret. For the most part, Hank was dependable to be discreet but there were the odd moments when he came close to or actually divulged some piece of information. At times, he pleaded to the confiding party to allow him to enjoy his ignorance.

It had been Hank’s refusal to meet Warren’s curious gaze that eluded something was amiss. The larger man then made his way to the mantle, turning his back to the blond playboy. Subjecting the other man’s behaviour to further scrutiny, Warren was convinced that Hank was privy to Bobby’s state of mind. Whatever precipitated the younger man’s unusual response, it had to be serious.

Warren remembered approaching Hank to demand what was going on. It was concern rather than curiosity that drove his line of questioning. At first, Hank had attempted to remain evasive—possibly out of loyalty to Bobby. He had feigned obliviousness, denying Warren’s assertions that their friend’s had acted strangely. Undeterred, Warren had been persistent. He refused to believe what had transpired was of little consequence.

After what seemed like eons of cajoling and prodding, Hank had looked at his winged companion wearily. Whatever information he had been tasked with concealing, it was heavily upon his bulky shoulders. He was desperate for an out of some sort. Yet, it was clear that he had made an oath to keep the information confidential. Unfortunately, Hank was a man divided. While he wanted to confide in Warren, Hank told the blond Adonis that he could not. His feline-like features had arranged themselves into a beleaguered expression as he insisted that he was bound by a promise that went beyond his friendship with Bobby. What he could say was that Bobby needed their support and understanding more than ever.

Hank’s vague statements served to exacerbate Warren’s sense of confusion and heightened his worry over their friend. As much as he had wanted to obtain clarification, Hank’s determination to keep Bobby’s confidence was resolute—much to Warren’s dismay. Admitting defeat was not something the CEO of Worthington Industries was accustomed to. However, in this case, he had very few options. It was important for Hank to keep his word. Furthermore, given the present circumstances, to hound him anymore would have been insensitive. The poor man was going through enough already without Warren interrogating him.

The remainder of their time at the Drake home became a blur. Upon further reflection, Warren realized much of this was out of Bobby’s design. He remembered that once the younger man made his way down the stairs and into the living room to join his friends, he had seemed anxious to start the journey. This behaviour had intensified when his mother appeared. After exchanging greetings with the Drake matriarch, Warren and Hank had found themselves being ushered out the door by her son. Puzzled, they attempted to resist Bobby’s efforts but were foiled. Hank had been especially disappointed since this meant there would be no care basket of treats to take on the road.

As the trio offered their hurried farewells, Warren had noticed a pained expression falling across Maddy’s genteel countenance when she looked at her son. Her reputation as an overly doting mother aside, there was something very different about this good-bye. It was not driven by the usual factors—wariness to allow her child to leave the family home once again and apprehension over his safety. Nor was it the case that her husband’s condition played a role. Rather, it had appeared as if she was aware of the darkness looming her child.

For his part, Bobby had been uncomfortable. Under his mother’s worried stare, he had flinched and refused to make eye contact. Then he mumbled that Maddy should call him should she need anything. She had nodded stiffly in response, her cornflower blue eyes brimming with sadness. When she had reached out to wrap her arms around him, Bobby jumped out of her reach before taking her hand, pressing it against his mouth, and climbing into backseat of the Land Rover.

Disturbed by what he had witnessed, Warren had immediately quizzed Bobby as soon as they pulled out from the driveway. He had been careful to heed Hank’s words of offering support. However, this had been tempered by his growing sense of anxiety. It was clear that something serious was eating away at him—something that did not pertain to his convalescent father, concerns regarding the strain upon his mother, or the grief of losing the woman he viewed as a sister. This insidious secret had compelled him to hold those closest to him at arm’s length, ravaged his youthful looks, and forced him to take on a persona that was strangely…cold.

Bobby had frowned. Behind his purple-tinted sunglasses, he met Warren’s concerned gaze in the rear view mirror. In an uncharacteristically flat and wooden voice, the haggard young man explained that he had a great to deal with at the moment. While he appreciated his friend’s concern, Bobby had been adamant that his business was his own. Following this, he slipped into slumber and remained asleep for the duration of the trip.

Guiding his car through the iron-wrought gates that led to the mansion, Warren could only hope for some light ahead.

Alex Summers raked a hand through his blond, wavy hair as he made his way into the living room. The space had been decorated by Betsy and it reflected her upscale preferences. It was composed of a palette of muted jewel tones-teal and amethyst, plum and garnet, loden and amber-coloured mohair plaids and velvet paisleys, fringed tattersalls and Harris tweeds, borrowed from her favourite hacking jackets and warmest carriage blankets. Timeworn velvets, faded damasks and vintage leathers, which took their cues from the walls' antique patina to create a well-worn setting, accented the room's well-worn plank floors. Located in the room were a well-worn leather sofa and corduroy chairs with pillows of shearing, mohair, and luxe touches of coyote, taken from the Englishwoman’s country home outside of Bath. Although Betsy herself was gone, her presence could still be felt through this room.

In the late afternoons and evenings, there would usually be students and staff lounging and mingling here. The ensuing chatter often competed with the din from the adjacent recreation room. Even during the holidays and scheduled breaks, there would be a fair number of residents milling about. However, this particular night was different. The entire floor was eerily quiet after dinner. Those students who did not leave for Spring Break were observing the new curfew the Professor had imposed following his return from Washington, DC this morning.

Meanwhile, the members of teams who had been away on mission divided themselves into different groups based on current needs. The first, which was spearheaded by the Professor and Emma, were overseeing the handling of the public relations response (including parents and the authorities) with the assistance of Vange Whedon. Clean-up of the premises and evidence collection was being dealt with by Piotr, Cain, and a few of the students, including Santo, Julian, and Nicholas. Those present during the invasion were receiving counselling from Jubilee and Paige. With Kurt and Tabitha’s help, the former Generation Xers also organized activities to help distract the children from the traumatic events of the other night. Under Scott’s direction, Alex, Storm, Kitty, Sage, Lorna, and Bishop were conducting the investigation into the attack. He was also involved in planning the funeral arrangements, coordinating the details with the Greys.

Alex was eager to step away from his responsibilities briefly. Spending the last two hours combing through the wreckage of the helicopter alongside Lorna in the hangar had proven not only to be numbing but awkward as well. Since the night of Bobby’s birthday party, the two agreed to keep their distance from one another until Alex was able to understand where his relationship with Annie stood. From his perspective, there was a great deal of confusion. The younger Summers brother believed he found happiness with someone who had cared for him when everyone else thought he was lost. Lately, however, he was beginning to find himself drawn to his former girlfriend. Since the Professor’s therapy sessions, Lorna had become more accepting of what happened in Genosha and her true parentage. As a result, she was less emotionally labile and more rational. It was as if she was reverting to the woman he had fallen in love with some time ago. For Lorna, she was still reeling from the humiliation of their infamous wedding day. The fact that Alex had chosen Annie over her was not lost on her. Moreover, she felt that starting anything with him would have undermined her self-respect—something she was in the process of rebuilding with Xavier’s help.

The tall, blond geophysics graduate also had another motivation to seek respite. His concern over his grieving brother’s mental well-being was increasing exponentially with each passing second. After Alex and his team returned from mission, the younger Summers brother had taken it upon himself to act as his brother’s pillar of support. While he had expected Scott to be in the throes of mourning, nothing had prepared Alex for the man he encountered at the mansion. This man claiming to be Scott Summers was a complete foil. His chestnut hair was rumpled and his clothes, which were usually pressed, seemed to be perpetually wrinkled. It was as if he had slept in them and could not be bothered to change. His chiselled face was pale and the lower half was covered in stubble.

It was not only the physical changes that stunned Alex and many around the mansion. As the closest to Scott, Alex had expected to listen and provide comfort during these trying times. Much to his dismay and bewilderment, the older Summers brother refused to confide in him or anyone else for that matter. Even the Professor’s offers for counsel had been rebuffed. Instead, Scott struggled to conceal his grief. He isolated himself in the War Room, plastering the walls with photographs of scenes around the mansion post-invasion to fixate upon for hours.

There was growing evidence that this approach was not very effective. During a meeting with the investigative team, Scott vacillated between screaming at them to use whatever means necessary to shake existing contacts for information and speaking in a voice barely audible above a whisper. Everyone in attendance had been shocked by this display of emotional instability but rendered mute in its wake. The collective reasoning concerned the difficulty of searching for the appropriate words to express their sympathy and support for their friend and team mate. Later on, considered within the context of his loss, many viewed Scott’s erratic behaviour as somewhat expected. Nevertheless, many found it disturbing to see him in such pain.

Then there was the most recent incident of the leader’s compromised psychological state, transpiring late this afternoon. Alex was heading to the War Room to check on Scott. Reaching the doorway, he saw that Jubilee was already there. The young firecracker was informing Scott that she was leaving to pick up Jean’s family from the train station and would be driving them to their nearby hotel. Her delicate features had been arranged in a worried frown as her sapphire eyes swept over an expressionless Scott, who had been seated at the conference table with his hands folded in his lap. In the days that followed Jean’s death, the dynamic between them was strained even though this existence seemed to be mutually dependent (it was rare not to see the two in close proximity of one another). Each struggled to swallow their grief and maintain composure in an attempt to demonstrate strength and stability for the other person.

After a lengthy and tension-filled silence, Jubilee had leaned in and planted a kiss on his stubble-ridden cheek. Just as she started to leave, Scott bolted from his chair and immediately pulled her lithe frame close. Holding her tightly, he began sobbing. His face buried in her hair, the words of atonement flowing from his lips were muffled. From his vantage point, Alex had observed Jubilee’s crystalline eyes widening in surprise. Then her lower lip quivered as she fought back the urge to cry herself. He soon became alarmed when her creamy complexion had taken on a pinkish-purple tone and her arms were limp. Quickly recognizing the need to intervene, Alex had fabricated an excuse to speak to Jubilee in private. A teary but surprised Scott released the young firecracker, mumbling an apology for what he perceived as a moment of weakness. Jubilee, who had been equally stunned, awkwardly nodded her acceptance before leaving.

Compounding his sense of distress were the allegations of drinking. While Scott was no teetotaller, he was by no means a raging alcoholic either. However, within the past several days, more than one person had stepped forward with a claim or suspicion that Scott had been using alcohol to self-medicate. Kitty was the first to make the charge, reporting that she had seen him taking swigs from a flask when she briefed him regarding the crime files. Next, Ororo took the younger Summers brother aside to inform him of the discovery of several empty bottles littering the emergency living quarters by some students. After leaving the War Room with Alex, Jubilee confided that Scott “smelled like a distillery” when he pulled her into that tear-filled embrace. Considering these accounts with Scott’s volatile conduct as of late, it was not unthinkable that alcohol might be involved. Furthermore, if Scott’s drinking were to compromise any of their endeavours, something had to be said. Yet, Alex was hesitant to accept this. After all, this was his older brother, a man he and others looked up to for guidance and leadership. To even fathom that he might be using a crutch almost seemed like some sort of implicit betrayal.

In the end, Alex decided that if anyone were to confront Scott, he was best suited for the position. Despite their ups and downs in their fraternal bond, the Summers men shared a closeness that was founded on honesty, respect, and understanding. These aspects of their relationship allowed each to rely on the other for objective opinions regarding most anything. Drawing upon this knowledge, Alex was filled with the confidence to approach his older brother. However, when he returned to the War Room to initiate the conversation, Scott had disappeared. Confused, Alex searched all of the Sub-Basement levels only to come up empty. When Lorna asked him to accompany her to the hangar to examine the wreckage, Alex made a mental note to seek out Scott at a later time.

In the living room, Alex paused in front of one of the bay windows. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his charcoal chinos, which he wore with a forest green, merino cardigan and a pale blue dress shirt and brown suede loafers. The mansion was bathed in the luminous glow of the moon overhead and the newly installed lighting system Forge had designed. Surveying the view now, it was difficult to believe that this was the site where so much destruction had taken place only a few days before. The manicured lawns were devoid of any trace of the trespassers, a testament to the hard work Piotr and the others had contributed. Instead, there was a strange placid quality to the palatial grounds. Only the night shadows hinted at the sorrow that fallen over this place.

Suddenly, a dull voice said, “I thought you were with Lorna.”

Alex nearly jumped out of his skin upon hearing the voice. When he turned around, he resisted the urge to grimace at the sight before him. The elder Summers was seated in one of the corduroy upholstered chairs. It was difficult to conceive that Scott could appear any more dishevelled and yet, his present condition provided evidence to the contrary. His denim shirt was wrinkled with the tails hanging over his equally rumpled khakis. Even his wraparound, ruby-quartz sunglasses were perched crookedly over his ashen face. Chestnut locks fell chaotically across his forehead. It was heartbreaking simply looking at him.

“Um, hi. Sorry, I didn’t see you.” Alex’s blue-green eyes immediately fell upon a small, silver-plated flask in Scott’s bandaged hand. A frown creased his tanned forehead. “Drinking by yourself?”

His older brother raised a brow at him. “You’re welcome to join me,” he replied with a sardonic smile. “You’ll have to find your own. I don’t remember you being a whiskey guy.”

Alex frowned, watching Scott raise the flask to his mouth. “How long have you been at it?”

Scott took a swig and swallowed loudly before shrugging. “I don’t know,” he answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Time seems to be a vague concept to me these days.”

The younger Summers brother’s mouth formed a grim line, shaking his blond head. “Listen,” he began quietly, “I know you’ve been through hell, but do you honestly think this is a good idea?” “Under the current circumstances, I would say yes.” To his credit, Scott was not slurring but seemed to be growing agitated as the conversation continued. He was already clenching his jaw—something he usually did when bracing for an argument.

Alex sighed. He, too, was deeply saddened by Jean’s death. While they were not particularly close, he was able to appreciate how happy she made Scott and could easily see how much she loved him. With her gone, it was as if some light had been extinguished out of Scott’s life. The man who was left reflected a shell of the person he was supposed to be. Given this, Alex felt he was mourning the loss of two people rather than just one.

Finally, he said, “I don’t want to fight with you, Scott. I’m just worried about you. I mean, we all are.” He paused, wishing he had the precise vocabulary to eloquently convey his sympathy. The feeling of floundering helplessly while someone he cared about seemed to be drowning was not something he was accustomed to. In fact, Alex hated it.

“I didn’t know I was the topic of conversation,” his brother remarked flatly. “I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

Slighted by Scott’s response, the younger Summers brother shook his head ruefully. “No one’s gossiping about you,” he informed him. “They understand that you’re hurting…anyone in your position would be. It’s just that what you’re doing…”

“What is it that you and everyone else thinks I’m doing?” Scott demanded, scowling. He gulped down another mouthful of whiskey before continuing. “In case you haven’t noticed, the last couple of days have been really tough.”

Alex tried not to take his brother’s vitriol tone to heart. This was simply the grief manifesting itself. Pure and simple. Shaking his head, he said, “There isn’t anyone who’s going to dispute that. It’s just that…trying to find solace at the bottom of that flask isn’t the most constructive or healthy approach.”

“And what would you have me do right now?” the elder Summers retorted. “Make peace with what’s happened? Accept that my wife was taken from me before her time? Please, Alex. You sound like the Professor or Kurt.”

“No,” his younger brother replied evenly, “that’s not what I’m saying at all. I’m simply telling you that downing all that booze isn’t necessarily going to help you.”

Scott laughed bitterly. “You sound like an after school special.”

Mulling over his words, Alex had to admit his brother had a point. He looked at him sheepishly. “Maybe I do,” he admitted, “but I want to get across to you that I’m worried.”

“Well, thank you for your concern but I don’t need you or anyone else dictating to me as to how I should be grieving.”

“Again, I’m not doing that and I’m pretty damn sure no one around here wants to do that, either.”

“Then I don’t see why we have to venture any further. As far as I’m concerned, the subject’s not up for discussion.”

“Scott, please be reasonable. What you’re doing…it may quell the pain right now but it’s not going to bring Jean back.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Believe me, I may be out of my mind with misery but I’m not delusional. Every time I open my eyes in the morning, I have to come to grips that my wife isn’t around any more. What’s even more distressing is the fact that I was there when…it happened. And there wasn’t a thing I could do to prevent it.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself—”

“I don’t see why not. She trusted me to protect her. These kids and their parents put their faith in me to keep them safe. I failed on both counts. That’s a pretty accurate assessment, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t. I think what happened was tragic and beyond your control. I know the second part is something you really hate. Taking responsibility for things may be your way of trying to get a handle on the chaos but it isn’t right.”

“That’s quite an interpretation, Freud.”

“I’m serious, Scott. Holding yourself accountable doesn’t change anything. It’s only going to eat away at you until nothing’s left of your sanity.”

“I haven’t owned up to it because I want to feel like I’m in charge again, either. I’m just being honest with myself. I’m sorry if you and everyone else disagree. As for my mental condition, I think given the past couple of days, I’m managing fine.”

“You really think that drinking alone is an illustration of that?”

“Yes, I have a drink now and then but that’s to… I’m not going to try to justify it to you, Alex. Let’s just say that I haven’t let it or my feelings interfere with my responsibilities or how I conduct myself in front of other people.”

Alex’s blue-green eyes became as round as saucers upon hearing this declaration. Apparently, the whiskey was taking its toll on his brother’s short-term memory as well. “What about the strategic meeting with Storm and the others?” he asked, trying to tone down the disbelief in his voice. “One minute, you were yelling at them about how they should be investigating contacts and the next, you’re mumbling to the point where I had to be your interpreter. Do you remember that?”

At a loss for words, the elder Summers cringed.

With the kit gloves approach proving to be ineffective, the younger brother decided to continue with his candour. He was hoping it would be better in helping Scott face the facts. “And that incident with Jubilee this afternoon,” he said quietly, “you almost choked the life out of her.”

The older Summers brother was incredulous. “I would never hurt her,” he insisted, face turning pink. “Not after what she’s been through.”

“I know you wouldn’t, Scott,” Alex said quickly, trying to diffuse what was becoming a precarious situation, “not intentionally anyway.” The young man otherwise known as Havok was realizing his previous observation had hit a nerve. He was well aware of his brother’s fondness for Jubilee. In the wake of Logan’s multiple absences, Scott had taken on the mantle of being her protector who would do anything to transcend her harrowing past. His perceived inability to ensure not only her safety but also Jubilee’s was something that seemed to fill him with immense guilt. It was probably these feelings that played a role in what transpired between them this afternoon.

A disconcerting stillness settled between the two men. Scott, reeling from Alex’s assertions, was struggling to compose a response. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, turning his face away. Meanwhile, Alex was ruminating over his part of the conversation. He wondered if he had gone too far. It was clear that his words had stung his brother, rendering him speechless. Witnessing him reaching this point elicited feelings of guilt in the younger man. Inwardly, Alex cursed his choice of words.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry,” he said, aqua eyes apologetic. He dropped to his haunches so that he was at face-level with Scott. “You’re my brother and I care about you. The last thing I want to do is make you upset.”

Before Scott could reply, the front door opened. Startled, the Summers brothers raised themselves to their feet and quickly made their way to the foyer. Out of the corner of his eye, Alex noticed that Scott was careful to slip the flask into the pocket of his trousers. He considered making a comment but decided to engage with him another time. This conversation was not over; not by a long shot.

Warren was the first to walk through the door, rolling his Louis Vuitton suitcase behind him. Setting foot inside the mansion seemed to make Jean’s loss all the more tangible. He felt as if every fibre of his being was being weighed down by a heavy sense of dread. As the blond Adonis ventured further inside, he came across Scott and Alex standing outside of the living room. He nodded in greeting at both before noticing Scott’s somewhat unkempt appearance. To say that Warren was shocked would have been an understatement. It was inconceivable to him that the scruffy, rumpled man standing in front of him was Scott Summers. No, the Scott Summers he knew since their early days under Xavier would have never allowed himself to lapse into such a condition. It was all too clear that his wife’s death had a devastating impact upon him.

“I’m so sorry,” Warren finally managed, his voice filled with sympathy. At that moment, he was uncertain as to what else he could possibly say.

Hank emerged from the front door and clapped a large hand on Scott’s shoulder. His feline-like features were arranged in a sorrowful expression. “You have my deepest sympathies,” he told him, trying to blink away the tears stinging his eyes. “Anything you need, don’t hesitate. You have my word. We are here for you.”

Scott nodded morosely before drawing back, allowing the three-fingered hand to drop to the other man’s side. “Thank you, guys, for coming back so quickly. Really, it means a lot.”

Warren shook his head, an errant golden lock falling over his forehead. “Don’t thank us. We want to be here…for you and Jean.” There was no way he could be any more sincere. “And Hank’s right… Whatever we can do to help out, just let us know.”

Hearing his wife’s name just now made his heart twist sharply inside his chest. The dulling effects of the whiskey he had imbibed earlier were now fading, setting the stage for the familiar feelings of despondency and frustration to set in. The elder Summers was now desperately fighting the sobs building in his throat. However, his grief soon transformed into something else when Bobby Drake made his way inside, closing the front door behind him.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve,” he said tersely, crossing his arms over his chest and scowling. The fact that the young man and Jean were close friends had been pushed away from his consciousness. All he could focus on was the pain he inflicted on Jubilee—something Bobby had sworn to Scott he would never do. Looking back, Scott wished he had acted more prudently rather than taking his team mate at his word.

Bobby, weary from the road trip, ruminations about his predicament, the family situation, and the distress over Jean’s death, was taken aback. Aside from staring at the homeless man purporting to be the usually clean-cut Scott Summers, the hostile greeting was jarring. Though they were not the best of friends, he had been expecting something a little more civil given the circumstances. His mind began to dissect what had just transpired. Ultimately, the young man was forced to make one conclusion.

He knows.

His grey eyes soaked the hard wood floor beneath everyone’s feet. It should not have surprised him that Scott was cognizant of what he had done. Bobby surmised the other man must have compelled her to confide in him. After all, this was the man who was wary of Bobby’s involvement with Jubilee from the very beginning. As the other father figure in Jubilee’s life, Scott made it clear that he was protective of her and did not want to see her hurt as she had been many times before. Despite his attempts to convince him of his good intentions, Bobby never completely won Scott over. Instead, what existed between them was a tense understanding. Jubilee had made her choice; she wanted to be with Bobby. Based on the bespectacled man’s contorted features, this understanding had dissipated. In its place, was a sense of anger that seemed to be increasing the longer Bobby remained underneath his searing glare.

Unaware of the dynamics at play, Warren frowned. He knew Scott was in the throes of mourning but lashing out at Bobby? It made absolutely no sense. Given Bobby’s situation at home and the news of Jean’s death, the last thing he needed was this dressing down from Scott. “What are you talking about? Why are you attacking him?”

The other man pursed his lips bitterly before speaking. “Hasn’t he told you?” His tone was dripping with derision and scorn.

“Told us what?” Hank asked, blue brows knitting together in confusion. While he was certain that Scott had no knowledge of the secondary mutation, the institute’s medical expert was at a loss what prompted such acrimony. He peered over at Bobby, who pointedly averted his gaze with a grim expression etched into his already haggard face. This was beyond the icy patch spanning across the young man’s chest and his preoccupations regarding his parents. No, whatever precipitated this reaction, Hank was beginning to suspect it was probably related to Bobby’s peculiar behaviour earlier.

Normally, Scott’s filters would have precluded him from insinuating himself into other people’s affairs. However, the situation and circumstances warranted a different approach. This supposed ‘good man’ had inflicted pain upon someone who sustained so much hurt in one lifetime. Scott was not going to allow this transgression go unaddressed.

“Apparently, stomping on a young woman’s heart is a hobby he’s taken up,” he finally answered, glowering at Bobby and clenching his jaw. “Your friend here decided to break up with Jubilee.”

Warren and Hank exchanged puzzled looks. This was definitely news to them. Bobby made no mention of it during their travels from Long Island. Yet, as the information began to sink in, their friend’s seemingly bizarre behaviour now had context. Particularly, his visceral response to Hank uttering her name made sense. However, Bobby’s motivations did not. They had never seen him any happier than when he was with Jubilee. For some inescapable reason, Bobby had discarded all of that.

Alex, who had some knowledge of the relationship, was taken by surprise as well. The last he knew, the couple were very much devoted to one another. His mouth formed a grim line as he recalled an early conversation he had with her, where he expressed his concerns about Bobby. Then there was the incident at Planning Parenthood, culminating into the physical altercation with the younger man. Looking back, there was a part of Alex that yearned to be more forceful in his reservations.

Bobby remained defiantly quiet, flinching slightly.

Hank was the first to speak, fiddling with his black-rimmed glasses. “Scott, he’s had a great deal of things to contend with,” he began awkwardly, seeking to find a balance between defending his best friend and being sensitive to his team mate’s loss. If you only knew…

“So that excuses his behaviour? Give me a break, Hank. We are all creatures of free will with the capacity to make moral choices.” Scott spat out. Then he turned to Bobby, his lips pursed in disgust. “You just chose to be cruel for no reason.”

Stunned silence blanketed the room in the wake of this accusation.

Warren and Hank peered over at their friend. Normally, whenever Bobby was confronted by Scott or anyone else in such a manner, he would defend himself quite readily. They were expecting an equally fiery response. Although Bobby had matured over the years, he retained his short fuse. This was even more pronounced whenever he was provoked. In light of this, the winged Adonis and his feline-like friend were bracing themselves.

Much to everyone’s collective astonishment, Bobby did not strike back. Instead, he raised his eyes from the floor and in voice that was completely devoid of emotion, asked, “Are you finished?”

No one was more surprised by this than the elder Summers. He and Bobby had had their share of confrontation during their time together. Contrary to what Jean, Hank, and the Professor believed, the young man was very capable of standing his ground. There had been many times when Scott found himself at the other end of a reply that was tinged with sarcasm and brutal honesty, one that was fuelled by Bobby’s youthful, headstrong nature. Strangely, now was not one of those moments.

“Is that all you have to say?” Scott demanded angrily, taking a step towards Bobby. His face was beginning to turn a mottled colour. “After the hell you’ve put her through, you breeze into here like it’s no big deal. You’re a real son of a bitch.”

Again, Bobby chose to remain mute.

The older Summers brother was finding the determined silence more infuriating with each passing minute. It was as if Bobby experienced no remorse or considered the ramifications of his actions. The very thought made Scott’s blood boil. Shoulders heaving and jaw clenched, he found himself edging closer and closer.

Alex instantly placed a hand on his brother’s arm, applying some pressure in an effort to restrain him. While he could empathize with Scott’s anger, this was not the time to indulge any retributive urges. There was so much pain and grief surrounding them all now. “Scott, come on,” he pleaded quietly. “That’s enough.”

Scott turned to his attention to his younger brother, scowl deepening. Then after a few tense seconds, he backed away and drew his arm from Alex’s grasp. He was about to make another scathing remark to compensate for the limit to his aggression. However, by then, Bobby was already ascending the stairs.

For Warren, he was left with more questions than answers following Scott’s disclosure. His confusion melded with an overwhelming sense of concern for Bobby. Never had he seen the younger man so defeated and so withdrawn until now. It was totally antithetical to the Bobby Drake he had come to know. The carefree yet headstrong practical joker who told them he possibly found “the one” seemed to be a distant memory. What was damnable for the blond Adonis was the fact that he had no idea what brought about these changes in the first place. Warren simply refused to believe Bobby underwent some radical personality change overnight.

Meanwhile, the wheels inside Hank McCoy’s head were turning furiously. Unlike Warren, he was beginning to place their friend’s odd conduct in some context. He carefully deliberated over the information available to him. Recalling their conversation in the Med-Lab, Hank could still hear the abject fear that permeated Bobby’s voice as he revealed the extent of his injury and subsequent inability to revert completely to flesh. He could hear the desperation in his young friend’s appeals for Hank to figure out a solution. Not to be forgotten was the complicated situation of caring for his father and to some degree, his mother. Perhaps the decision to end his relationship with Jubilee was a by-product of these factors. Hank knew he needed to speak with his friend prior to this theory becoming a conclusion.

Before either man could make a move towards the stairs, Scott asked, “Either one of you know what the hell is going on with him?”

Even though Warren wanted to defend his friend, he was aware of the need to be mindful of Scott’s feelings. If there was ever a time when Scott required collective support, it was now. Finally, he shook his head.

Hank found himself unwillingly following Warren’s lead. “No,” he lied, “not at all.”

Closing his bedroom door behind him, Bobby Drake exhaled loudly. Lately, he came to believe that his existence was composed of a series of trying events. Some, such as his father’s stroke and Jean’s death, were very much beyond his control while others, notably breaking up with Jubilee, had been self-inflicted. Despite the divergent nature of these trials, his emotional response across these situations was ever consistent. His frustration, grief, and isolation were the only things he could rely on these days.

Although his father had been doing better by the time he left, Bobby continued to ruminate about the future for the Drake patriarch. He was uncertain as to what the implications would be given Bill’s sudden outburst. From what Bobby was able to glean from the doctors and therapists was that the severity of the stroke made complete recovery unlikely. Further complicating matters was the onset of depression, which had impeded rehabilitative efforts. Now, all of those negative prognostic indicators appeared to be slightly negated, forcing him to alter his perception of what lie ahead. While most people would have been enthusiastic about this development, Bobby remained cautious. He was finding that even cautious optimism could set one up for disappointment.

Also weighing heavily upon Bobby was his father’s reaction to the confession made prior to Warren and Hank’s arrival. Of all people, the younger Drake expected his father to understand. Granted, the circumstances were different but the related concerns were nearly identical. Both feared the consequences of their respective conditions upon those they loved. There was also the shared desire to shield these loved ones from the burden of being forever bound to a hopeless situation. Yet, after Bobby’s admission, Bill’s response was not one of empathy but one of contempt and disbelief. For someone who once professed his wariness of Jubilee and her involvement with his son, the Drake patriarch genuinely questioned the validity of this decision.

In spite of his dissent, Bill Drake was clear that he would not break his son’s confidence. His steadfast commitment was unshakable in the face of Maddy’s cajoling and pleading. Providing an explanation for what transpired between father and son would be Bobby’s cross to bear. As for the younger Drake, he could not fathom talking to his mother what happened. In addition to his new obligations that required his presence in Westchester, he knew the conversation with his mother would be fraught with drama. It was definitely the last thing Bobby wanted to engage in given how full his plate already was. Even thinking about adding to it made him even wearier. Despite her attempts to extract the truth from him, Bobby would not be moved. Before leaving with his friends, he simply reassured her that there was no need to worry about him and insisted that she focused her efforts on Bill’s recovery. While she allowed him to depart without any further entreaties, Maddy was transparent in her displeasure as to where things stood. Seeing the sadness in his mother’s cornflower blue eyes compounded Bobby’s sense of unease.

The news of Jean’s death was another unexpected blow. The woman he had come to view as an older sister was now gone. There would be no more opportunities to see her smile or hear her tinkling laugh, no more kernels of wise advice to be had. Prior to his disclosure to Bill, Jean was the only other person Bobby thought about confiding in. He could always depend on her non-judgmental, unconditional acceptance to help him navigate through the complications. Without her insightful and sage counsel, he felt adrift in the morass he presently called his life. What was even more distressing was the fact that they had not spent any significant time together before she died. Between Jean’s health problems and Bobby being called away suddenly, having any meaningful contact had not been option. Looking back, he desperately yearned for one last moment with Jean.

And then there was Jubilee. Despite ending their involvement, Bobby found that she was never far from his mind. His heartache felt as fresh now as it did the last time he had seen her. This was only countered by the immense guilt that coursed throughout his entire being. When Scott confronted him in the foyer and launched his acerbic attack, Bobby realized everything the grieving leader said represented a brutal truth. It was as if Scott verbalized everything Bobby had internalized. As painful as it was to listen, it would have been disingenuous to defend himself. Inwardly, he was forced to agree with each accusation and each insult.

Bobby stared at his empty bed, dropping his black leather overnight bag on the floor by his feet. His grey eyes studied the piece of furniture with a mixture of bitterness and melancholy. Bobby found it strange to think that an inanimate object could be associated with so many memories. His heart twisted painfully inside his chest as he recalled the last time he had been here.

It was several days before his assignment in Genosha. The young couple had sought refuge in his room after Hank, Bishop, and Kurt commandeered the X-Box for their Rock Band concert. Following the butchering of such classics as “Jukebox Hero” and “Pour Some Sugar on Me”, they decided to seek refuge in Bobby’s room. Even as they prepared to settle in for the evening, the howling and wailing of the wannabe musicians could be heard through the walls. Bobby had joked about improving the talent by joining his friends. However, he abandoned this idea when Jubilee quickly shed her clothes and climbed into bed as a competing offer. Eagerly, Bobby followed her lead.

He enveloped her willowy form in his arms. “What do you think of us moving out…getting our own place?” he suddenly asked, inhaling her trademark perfume of bubblegum and cinnamon. As far as he was concerned, it was a fragrance he could never get enough of.

Prior to his inquiry, Jubilee had been relishing the feel of his body—cool, firm and flat in his musculature, yet so comforting. When she heard his question, she found herself taken aback. “Our own place?” she repeated, sapphire eyes widening.

Alarmed by his girlfriend’s reaction, the boyishly handsome young man took a deep breath. He chastised himself inwardly for his outburst. The topic deserved serious consideration, especially when it came to broaching the subject. Living together would mark a serious milestone in their relationship. It was typically a precursor to other…things. To introduce the idea as he would a movie rental was particularly careless on his part.

Yet, as Bobby mulled over his gaffe, he realized that he had no experience in bringing up the discussion with his previous girlfriends. In some cases, the very notion instilled ambivalence (see Opal) while with others, the relationship failed to progress to the point where it would even be considered an option (see Lorna). Given his track record, it was not surprising that Bobby resigned himself to living at the mansion for the foreseeable future. Moving in with someone else represented the type of commitment he believed was elusive.

That is, until Jubilee.

For the first time, Bobby was involved in a relationship where he truly felt at ease. He was with someone who accepted and loved him for all that he was. The happiness he found with Jubilee melted away the usual baggage that marred his prior involvements. She was the one who inspired him to be a better a man; to do whatever he could to make her feel loved and special; and to ensure their shared joy was never threatened. The past year and a half was a testament to this devotion.

In addition to this newfound bliss, being with Jubilee presented Bobby with first-time experiences as well. Before her, he had never given a girlfriend a piece of jewellery let alone a piece that symbolized his feelings and held great sentimental value. His past relationships never evoked such considerations. However, with Jubilee, there had been no reservations in slipping his grandmother’s ring around her finger and declaring his commitment to her. It seemed so natural to do so. In fact, the prospect of their relationship entering the realm of serious commitment did not frighten him. Imagining a life together away from the mansion was simply part of an exciting progression—a perspective he thought was mutual.

But as he stared at her beautiful but confused face, Bobby suddenly came to a conclusion. Familiar feelings of apprehension and disappointment seized him. He had scared her—something he had sworn never to do which stemmed from his own fear of repeating previous missteps. Then he said quietly, “You don’t want to.”

“No, it isn’t that,” Jubilee said sheepishly, her cheeks stained with a blush. She could tell her initial reaction had provoked his insecurities to emerge. Her fingertips stroked his jaw affectionately in an attempt to assuage his anxiety. “I…I just don’t understand why we would.”

For a moment, he was rendered speechless. He searched her beautiful face for any trace of duplicity. When Bobby saw that her puzzlement was genuine, he was immediately reminded that he was first boyfriend. Granted, she had been privy to conversations with her friends and other women around the mansion about the nuances of their relationships. However, when it came to her romantic involvement, there were aspects that were still quite new. Apparently, the idea of striking out on their own was one of them. This knowledge left him feeling both honoured and rather pressured.

Given that they were both treading in unfamiliar territory, Bobby carefully contemplated his words. “Well,” he began, tangling his fingers in her long, silky hair, “haven’t you ever thought about what it would be like? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I like being here but there are times when I wish we were by ourselves.”

“We are by ourselves now,” Jubilee pointed out guilelessly, tracing every inch his muscled chest with her fingertips. Then her crystalline eyes twinkled impishly. “Well, unless you’ve invited someone with the gift of invisibility to hang out with us.”

He shook his head, sensing her uncertainty underneath the veil of levity. In his younger days, he utilized similar tactics in order to cope with understanding his abilities. Listening to his girlfriend’s injection of humour into the conversation, Bobby recognized yet another attribute they shared. It made him love her all the more at that moment.

“Hilarious, Jubes,” he said, feigning annoyance but was undermined by the urge to kiss her. Never one to resist that lovely face, Bobby caved. Brushing tendrils of hair from her cheeks, he continued to explain his rationale. “What I meant is that it would be nice to come home to a place we can call ours. You know, a place where we wouldn’t have to worry about students or Hank getting first dibs on pizza or the television.”

The corners of her crystalline eyes crinkled as she smiled at him. “You’ve got a pretty good argument there, Drake,” she quipped wryly. Her expression became thoughtful when she began to give the matter further consideration, adding, “I guess it would be great not to have to schlep my things here every couple of days or so. It is kind of a pain.”

Bobby nodded empathically. The journeys between his room at the mansion and the Summers’ home were somewhat cumbersome. He and Jubilee were continually surprised by the amount of dirty clothes accumulated, which heightened their collective propensity to procrastinate in collecting clean ones from her room and exacerbated the situation. The chore of transporting the dirty clothing to the washer and dryer units in the Summers’ laundry room evoked grumblings and feeble wishes for superhuman strength.

Then there were the awkward run-ins once they arrived at the house. While both Jean and Scott had accepted the mature aspect of the relationship (well, Jean more than Scott), it was clear that they were still getting used to the reality. Jean, ever understanding and supportive, would give them sly winks and smiles but refrained from any intrusive questioning. Meanwhile, her husband was less enthusiastic. He was clearly uncomfortable with the idea of the young woman he treated as a daughter being involved an adult relationship with one of his classmates and peers. Although civil, Scott struggled and often wore an expression Bobby often likened to having painful constipation.

Despite the contrast in reactions, Bobby and Jubilee often left the house with a sense of embarrassment. Granted, they made no effort to conceal the fact that she was spending more of her nights in his room. After all, both were adults and what they did in the context of their relationship was very much their business. Yet, the idea of Scott and Jean knowing was simply too weird for the young couple to fathom. When Jubilee compared the experience of one’s parents becoming aware of their child’s sex life, Bobby became mortified and made her swear never to make that analogy again. It had taken him a month to block out the possible conversations he might have with his mother and father about the issue.

“A definite plus,” he agreed, nodding again but this time, emphatically.

“And having our own place would mean not having to worry about students at the door,” she pointed out, referring to the complication of students being nearby. Simply thinking about it added to the unease.

“Don’t forget about certain adults.” In spite of the time that passed, the incident involving Scott, Warren, and Paige remained rather fresh in his mind. While Bobby was relieved that the misfortune had not befallen him and Jubilee, he was mindful that possibility that such an ‘accident’ could occur. Dealing with the aftermath of being walked in on by Scott or Logan did not exactly appeal to Bobby.

“Is that why you lock the door all the time? And why you were browsing that home improvement store website for another lock?”

“I didn’t think you were paying attention.”

“I was. You’re very cute when you’re paranoid.”

“Thinking about our privacy makes me paranoid? Gee, thanks. And to top it all off, you’ve left out the most compelling reason.”

Jubilee laughed softly, enjoying the wounded act. “Sorry…what would that be?”

He wagged his sandy brows suggestively. “What about the idea of having your way with me whenever and wherever you want?” he asked.

Her giggles turned into gasps when his fingertips travelled from her tresses to where her thigh met her bottom. Bobby smiled when her hips shifted in response to his touch. He then leaned in and kissed her, relishing her warm, sweet breath.

Drawing back slightly, he stared at the beautiful angel in his arms. When those hypnotic sapphire depths returned his gaze with the same tenderness, his heart swelled inside chest. Just looking at her convinced him that his future was with her. Never was he was more confident of anything in his life.

Unfortunately, trepidation soon intruded on this moment when he noticed she was biting her lower lip ruefully. He tampered his own anxiety to determine what was troubling her. “What is it, Jubes?” he inquired, holding her lithe frame close against him.

Jubilee looked apologetic as she began to compose her reply. “I was thinking about how it’s big step and the overall impact. I mean, for starters, it’s hard to imagine Scott and Wolvie not having a series of conniptions when we do it.”

His voice was low as he asked, “How they might react…does that scare you?” Admittedly, the image of both men with expressions of murderous rage directed at him did force a lump to form in Bobby’s throat.

She shook her head, lacing her fingers through his. “Not enough to never consider it,” she answered thoughtfully, “but it’s not like I’m looking forward to their responses, either. I guess we’ll have to make sure Jean and Storm are around when we tell them.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Bobby agreed. His grey eyes studied his girlfriend’s pensive visage, which signalled there was another issue that prevented her from embracing the idea completely, prompting him to engage in further querying. “But there’s something else that’s holding you back. Come on, Jubes. You can tell me anything. I’m not going to be upset.”

She swallowed hard. “I really want to do it, especially after all the reasons you’ve outlined but most of all, I really want to be with you. It’s just a huge deal, Bobby. Are we ready for this?”

Bobby listened attentively. He certainly understood where she was coming from. There were a multitude of implications that would be borne out of this decision. In addition to the consequences she discussed, there was also the inescapable fact that living together would make adulthood for both of them all the more tangible. Residing at the mansion seemed to encase the two in some sort of limbo, allowing them to stave off the serious responsibilities of maturity. Moving out would force them to confront these head-on.

As someone who was keen to embrace his inner child, the concept of acting one’s age seemed to be reserved for other people (see Warren, Joel, and even Hank). The idea frightened him somewhat. Growing up had meant divorcing oneself from indulging in simple pleasures and excitement of living, such as pink dye to Hank’s shampoo. But now, entranced by Jubilee’s beautiful face and the way she looked at him with such love and trust, Bobby realized he no longer had anything to fear. Their time as a couple enlightened him to the fact that accepting one’s maturity did not necessarily mean he had to fundamentally change his personality. Rather, it translated into the broadening of horizons and entertaining considerations that transcended beyond his experiences. Now, he had to account for someone else’s needs and wants in his decisions, a responsibility he took very seriously.

His boyishly handsome features were contrite as he sighed. As much as he wanted to persuade her, Bobby wanted her to be prepared. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring it on you like that.”

Jubilee shook her head. “I should be saying that,” she told him softly. “I feel like I’ve disappointed you.”

“You could never disappoint me,” he corrected her, resting his forehead against hers. “I want you to be ready. Otherwise, you’re going to be miserable and that’s the last thing I want.”

She looked up at him guiltily. “But it seems you’ve given some thought about the whole thing. I feel like I’ve left you down when I expressed some reservation about leaving tomorrow.”

Bobby chuckled softly before kissing her. “First of all, we’re not going to be moving out tomorrow,” he murmured huskily against her mouth. “Second, I love you. Nothing matters more to me than your happiness. Just remember that.”

His girlfriend looked relieved, comforted by his words and the sincerity conveyed. Then she brought her other hand up and cradled his face, pressing her lips against his. “Sometimes,” she whispered, sapphire eyes shining, “I’m afraid that all of this is a dream.”

A confused frown wrinkled his forehead. “What do you mean?” he asked.

The corners of her mouth lifted slightly in a small smile. “It’s just that…I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.” Then she became grave, adding, “It scares me.”

“Why?” Bobby wrapped his arms protectively around her. Cognizant that Jubilee was reticent to make such disclosures, it was imperative to make her feel safe enough to continue. Encouraging candour had been one of the building blocks of their relationship.

She took a deep breath before speaking, as if summoning courage from the recesses within. “Everything with you has been so perfect,” she began, “When I’m with you, I feel like I have everything I’ve ever wanted. It’s like you’re part of this wonderful fantasy and I’m afraid that someday, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. It’s something I’ve been afraid of since we started dating.”

Bobby listened intently, reeling inwardly. He could not help but feel overwhelmed as she made her confession. It was difficult to recall the last time anyone had admitted such feelings in relation to him. Traditionally, he had been the one to make similar declarations which were often rebuffed. To hear the woman he loved admit she shared his feelings was inspiring. Her words and the emotional relayed through them were sources of strength for him. They motivated him to do what he had to protect her and what they shared.

Staring deeply into those hypnotic depths, the boyishly handsome young man struggled to find a time when he adored her more than at that moment. It was these intense feelings of devotion that compelled him to make one simple but very important vow. “You never have to worry about that,” he told her solemnly, the poignancy of his words resonating. “I’d never let anything happen to us.”

This time, Jubilee was the one who was moved. Her chin trembled as she flashed him a brilliant smile. “Really?” she whispered.

“Really,” he said in a low voice, giving her a tender smile of his own. “I love you, Jubes. I would do anything to make you happy.”

Jubilee nodded and raised her head to kiss him. The taste of her was sweet, reminiscent of bubblegum and cinnamon. Instantly, Bobby felt himself hardened. She was like addictive drug to him—one that he swore he would never give up, compelling him to touch her everywhere. His loving hands began to survey her supple curves. The experience left him in awe of the tenderness of his own hands against the unbelievable softness of her skin. He explored every part of her, as if searing the feel of her body into his memory.

Grey eyes bleary with ecstasy, Bobby reached out and cupped her breasts. “You are so beautiful,” he told her huskily, rolling the pink nipples between his fingers before fastening his mouth onto one. It hardened until forming an abrupt bead against his tongue. He continued suckling on one nipple before moving on to the other. His mouth was ravenous as her breasts pebbled and trembled beneath his tongue and teeth.

Her fingers slid through his sandy hair, tugging him closer. “Bobby…”

He grinned, relishing the sound of her voice calling out to him. His mouth then covered hers in a passionate kiss. Meanwhile, one of his hands wandered across her belly and downwards. Jubilee cut the kiss short when Bobby’s fingertips brushed her ebony curls. She moaned as he caressed the outer labia before he slid a finger between her lips. He stroked her gently, adding more pressure around the opening. When his ministrations reached her throbbing clit, her body arched.

Then Bobby’s mouth made a slow, tortuous path down Jubilee’s stomach and stopping at her inner thigh. When she parted her legs for him, he felt like a king or a god—he was hers. His eyes were riveted by the neatly trimmed, sable curls and cerise folds glistening with invitation. He continued rubbing the bundle of nerves, causing the little bud to harden even more.

She sighed softly. Bobby’s tongue was so near, his breath agonizing. "Yes..."

He smiled up at her and gently guided his fingers inside. “You feel incredible,” he told her thickly. Then he developed a rhythm to his thrusts. Out then in, in then out—like the waves of the ocean. In response, her tiny hands clutched the bed sheets before clutching onto Bobby’s strong shoulders. When he brought his tongue to her clit, she whimpered in disappointment as she was forced to wait. Again, his tongue was on her inner thigh, licking, sucking, and teasingly close to her wanting centre. His hands stroked the silky smoothness of her leg.

Not wanting to keep her bereft any longer, Bobby slipped down between Jubilee’s slim legs to feast upon her. He brought her sweet lips and clit into his mouth, sucking deep and pulling back the length of her labia. While he tasted her, the beautiful girl thrust her hips to match the rhythm. Sensing his love’s heightening feelings of pleasure, Bobby placed two fingers inside.

“Bobby…yes…” Jubilee’s fingers were buried his sandy hair as her hips moved to his ministrations. “Please don’t stop.”

He paused in his lapping to grin. He could feel the gorgeous creature's wetness and her inner walls tightening around him. Based on the increasing moans and the thin sheen of sweat covering her body, Bobby knew Jubilee was nearing the point of ecstasy. He inserted another finger, continuing to pump deeply while he sucked on her swollen clit.

Overwhelmed by the sight of this lovely creature, Bobby was finding it increasingly difficult to stave off the throbbing of his own desire. The way she moved in time with the rhythm of his fingers, her sweet voice crying out his name, and the tenderness that filled her sapphire gaze drove him to the precipice of rational thought. He drew his mouth away, feeling slightly guilty when she moaned in dismay. Then he guided himself inside her, groaning. As her warm, slick core surrounded him, he closed his eyes for a moment. The feel of her and knowing what was to follow was almost too much for him to bear. Opening his grey eyes, he now saw that the reaction was shared. Jubilee’s head was thrown back, her long, black locks with midnight blue highlights creating a halo as she cried out his name.

“I want you so bad.” Bobby managed between clenched teeth.

She exhaled shakily. “I want you, too…”

He grasped her gently by the hips until he was completely filling her. At first, his movements were agonizingly slow as if to tease what was in store. Soon, the pace quickened with more force when her hips bucked faster in encouragement. A growl escaped from his mouth as her legs wrapped around him. The heated inner walls of her sex tightened around his cock. Instinctively, he moved his hand over one of her breasts and brushing his thumb over the pert mound. Then he raised himself over her, changing the angle of his thrusts.

In a voice thick with want, Bobby called out for her. He struggled to articulate anything beyond that given the intensity of their lovemaking. There was so much coursing through his brain at that moment. He desperately wanted to communicate how much he cherished her, how he nearly lost his mind just touching her, how there would never be anyone else, and how hoped all of this would never end. But those words became lost in the primal sounds exiting his lips, focused on the anticipated bliss of their union.

Bobby could hear Jubilee’s breaths transform into desperate gasps for air, mingling with the groans from low in his throat. The sensations overwhelmed them both until at last, an explosion of pleasure shot through their sweat-drenched bodies. Her coltish legs tightened around his waist as she screamed his name. When Bobby reached the height of euphoria, every fibre of his being trembled violently before he allowed himself to collapse against Jubilee’s softness.

Welcoming him in her arms, she sighed and stroked his hair. “I am the luckiest girl in the world,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you, Bobby Drake.”

Back in his room, Bobby found himself left with only a memory. The bitter realization that she and what they shared were no longer part of his life began to sink in. He pressed his back against the wall, sliding down until he was seated on the floor. Then, with a muffled sob, the boyishly handsome young man buried his face in his hands.