Bellwether
7
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Bellwether Chapter Seven
Disclaimers Apply
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… I caved, lol.
Today shall be muffin day… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena
and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting.
interesting here * *no perversity intended * Morgan: Hola?
Readers/Reviewers: Thank you for reading and reviewing as you can!
unsettled, too new, too odd… Jubilee took several large, quiet steps
back, her eyes never leaving the Cajun as he stood in the hall, head bent,
watching something Artie was showing him. Damn it…why did he
have to like kids? I could hate him easier if he didn’t like kids
or if he kicked turtles or something awful… Once she was sure
he was not going to turn and catch her with his shaded eyes, she turned and
fled down the corridor towards the library, nearly reaching the door before she
remembered Mark had taken to enforcing the posted hours.
“Shit,” she hissed. Her body ached from the frantic pace of
the Danger Room sim, the one that seemed not quite right. She wanted to
find Kitty and ask her what the Hell had she been thinking, programming a
random Shi’ar attack in the midst of a military base style sim, but so
far the other teenager had been hidden from view. It had been chaos, really, especially since Jamie was involved
in the practice. By the time Storm had shut off the program and the
Jamies had been sorted out, Jubilee was ready to either throttle Kitty or ask
her how she did it; it had seemed so real, especially the pain, she reflected,
rubbing her very sore hip. With a sigh, she rested against the wall
opposite the library door. She had nowhere to hide out, really, nowhere
she could get to without passing Remy anyway. He had left her a note,
tucked into her coat pocket: Chere, meet me tonight. We need to talk
about everything. He didn’t specify when, she noted with a
small amount of smug triumph. There are only so many hours that can
technically be considered ‘night,’ she added to herself, her gaze
roaming the hall restlessly. Remy’s voice, a low murmur until that
moment, became remarkably clear. He was talking to someone, Artie from
the sound of his tone and the topic of conversation, she realized (Remy would
not talk to just anyone about comic books), and they were coming towards
her. “Shit,” she repeated, shoving herself away from the wall
and rattling the library door in futility. The briefly held idea of
picking the lock left her feeling a smidge guilty, especially since Mark seemed
to trust her. Before she could truly panic, however, her eyes lit on something
she felt like a fool for not noticing earlier. The old door to the
servant’s stairs was firmly closed in it’s dark corner of the hall
but she knew it was unlocked; it could not lock period. She hated the
narrow, dark steps with a passion, fearing even her expert balance was not
enough for the trek up and down the things, but she was really without any
options unless she wanted to talk to Remy, face those searching eyes that saw
far too much for her to feel comfortable with right then and there. On fleet feet
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door and jerked it open. A dark shape rolled towards her, coming to rest
against her feet and, for a moment, she thought she had stumbled upon a couple
in the throes of…the throes. Remy’s voice called her name but
she did not hear it over her sharp, sudden scream.
“He’ll be fine, Jubilation. Back
away from the table.” Beast punctuated his words with a gentle push
against the teenager’s shoulder, sending her stumbling into Remy.
She flinched as his large, warm hand curled around
her arm but Jubilee did not pull away from the thief. “But
he’s so still!”
“He’s unconscious, chere,” Remy
sighed. “He’s done hit his head but good,” he added,
nodding towards the large goose egg welling to existence on Mark’s
forehead.
“He’s hot,” Jubilee
fretted. “He feels like he’s got a fever!” She
pressed her fingers to Mark’s wrist again and frowned.
“Beast, can’t people get brain damage from a high fever?”
“His body temperature is only slightly
elevated, Doctor Lee,” Beast chided gently. “Now, please, go
with Remy. It’s very difficult for me to properly assess the
patient with you standing here.” He shot Remy a meaningful look, one that
bespoke a need for privacy for Mark’s sake.
“Vas-y, ma petite,” Remy urged, tugging
her along behind him. She did not even protest the use of the endearment,
her eyes focused on Mark, prone on the table. An ugly monster stirred in
Remy’s stomach and he quickly, angrily, tamped it down.
“Jubilation, Mark is fine. He took a nasty spill. Allons-y.” Jubilee
acquiesced silently, a frown plaguing her features.
“I’ll come find you when I’m done
and give you an update,” Beast promised as the door shut in their
wake. He vented a sigh, pushing Mark onto his side to better access his
back and press the stethoscope there. A subtle, quiet movement caught his
attention and he flick a glance towards the medical bay’s beds.
Penance stood, red as a burning coal and silent as the grave, eyes wide and
solemn as she watched. Beast smiled briefly at her and returned to his
examination of Mark. “Everything seems fine,” he sighed,
patting the still man on his shoulder.
Penance’s red finger crept across
Mark’s skin, surprising Beast. He had not heard the girl approach,
so quiet was she. A trail of blood welled in the wake of her touch,
Mark’s skin marred by the thin red line. She gave Beast a hard
look, moving her gaze to Mark’s arm before turning and padding back to
her bed in the medical bay.
“…right. I’ll run a blood
test…”
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