On The Rocks

After Rooter had been stitched up and allowed to leave the infirmary, Jubilee, and Wolverine had taken him to the most greasy fast food restaurant in the area. "You're as skinny as Jubilee is," Wolverine said, and explained that they needed to fatten him and Jubilee up.

All three of them had gorged themselves on all kinds of unhealthy food and drank as much water as they wanted. They had hamburgers, fries, ice cream, burritos, and everything else that was on the menu. They laughed and joked and shared stories until closing time. Then they hit another fast-food restaurant, then another, then another. After a while they purchased food just to be around it, not neccesarily to eat it.

When all the restaurants closed, they went home and took turns in the shower, cleaning themselves over and over until they felt clean. Rooter had taken his time, having not seen a shower in five years. He poured sweet-smelling soap over his body, careful to avoid his stitches, letting the sensation of the hot water turn his body to an exhausted mush of skin, muscle, and bone. He shaved and brushed his teeth, which was something that he never thought he would be able to do again.

Then Wolverine loaned him some clothes and showed him his temporary room. He could stay as long as he liked per Xavier, as a way of thanking him for helping take care of his Xmen when they were sure they would have starved to death. His knowledge of the mushrooms and the inner workings of the Prison was what had saved their lives.

With a room, food at his fingertips, a bed, and unlimited water, Rooter felt like a new man. The things people took for granted amazed him. But he was done thinking about what he had gone without. To dwell in the past was to die in the present, and he was more than willing to leave his past far behind him.

Rooter collapsed on his new bed, enjoying the bounce of it and enjoying the soft linen of the blankets. He rubbed his ugly, but clean, face against the linen and smiled. The last thing he thought of before falling asleep? I will never find two greater friends.


---

Jubilee had eaten more that night than she ever had in her life. Even though she and Wolverine had been fed nightly, they still weren't fed enough. It was enough to survive by - but just barely, and after they had been fed the lichen, sometimes they didn't trust the food enough to eat it at all.

Beast had stitched up the scratches she had inflicted upon herself with Wolverine's claws, and prescribed her multivitamins and folic acid to help with her malnutrition. But it was her soul that needed healing the most, not her body.

The restaurants were Wolverine's gift to her and Rooter, a way to help the process. She could have paid for the food herself, but that gift, at this point in time, was far too precious to deny. After she ate and was satisfied, she leaned against him sleepily, smiling at Rooter as he told one of his stories. Wolverine was solid as a rock behind her, working as her support, her father figure.

What happened in the cell would remain in the cell. They agreed not to tell any of the Xmen (more on Jubilee's behalf than Wolverine's) because it didn't concern them. They had dealt with it. Their relationship was back - like flesh, it had been wounded - scarred, but it was healed. It had healed as if it had a healing factor of its own. They were partners, and more importantly, best friends. Nothing could ever change that. Not a prison, not a lichen, not Lady Yvanka and her Orc Girl.

When she came home to the mansion, after Rooter had taken his shower and Wolverine had taken his, she spent her time under the hot water, scrubbing her body so hard that it left her skin red and flushed. She couldn't seem to get clean - as if some invisible layer of grime remained on her. She washed herself over and over, scrubbing and lathering until her skin hurt too much for her to continue.

Then she dried herself off and went to her room and fell on her bed. She closed her eyes to sleep, relieved that she was home.


---

Wolverine's healing factor was already taking care of his malnutrition. It was doing a well enough job that Beast told him to stuff his face with food, take a shower, go to bed, and let his healing factor do the rest. And he would be damned if he didn't do just that, since that was what he wanted to do in the first place.

After Jubilee was released, and after Rooter was stitched up, given morphine, a bottle of multivitamins and a shot of penicillin in the rear, Wolverine was quick to kidnap them and drag him to every restaurant still open. Jubilee was far too skinny, and Rooter had gone for years eating nothing but bread and mushrooms and the tiniest shred of meat. He was going to make sure Jubilee fattened up and Rooter, for once in five years, get his fill.

Even though his healing factor was already taking care of the damage starvation wrought upon his body, his problem was more psychological than anything else. He had gone for months surviving on the tiniest amount of food. He had been deprived of food, and now he was going to indulge.

After the restaurants, they went back home for a good, long shower. He had gone months without a bath, and to feel hot water on his skin was perhaps the most relaxing sensation he had felt since their return. But for some reason he felt that he couldn't get clean enough. He scrubbed and scratched until his skin turned red and healed, then he would scrub his skin again, creating an endless cycle of miserable cleaning, as if it was a painful ritual. He was trying to shake off the phantom grit he still felt, even though he looked clean as ever. He realized later that no amount of scrubbing would remove that feeling - the only thing that could remove it was time.

He knew Jubilee was waiting for her turn, so he finished and dried off, retiring into his room, still not satisfied that he was clean enough. He then laid down on his bed, on his covers, breathing in his scent, and relaxed. He took in a deep breath again, relieved to smell the relatively Clean Wolverine and opposed to the Smelly Wolverine, and let out a content sigh and listened to the goings-on of the mansion.

The little noises of the mansion had always driven Wolverine crazy. Coffee brewing, the chatter of nearby Xmen, a blairing radio, the television, clanking of dishes and the hum of a washing machine. At times it was overwhelming. It was one of the reasons why he preferred the outdoors as much as he did - his sensitive ears were at peace with the wind in the trees, the gentle trickle of a stream.

But at this moment, those loud mansion sounds were more relaxing than any forest. The overwhelming smells were the same story - they washed over him, calmed every nerve, reminded him that he was home with his family, the Xmen. No dingy cell, no quarry, no unkind words and beatings, just him and the people he loved.

He was relaxing on his bed, his eyes half-closed. His entire body felt marvelous - his healing factor was back, he was clean, and his belly was full. He took in another deep, content breath of air, and exhaled. No wet blanket smell. Just every kind of smell one could possibly imagine to be in a household.

---

After a few hours of people coming in and out of his room to welcome him home and make sure he was okay, the sounds of the mansion died down and people retired for the night. Soon the mansion's sounds all but died off, leaving an eerie silence. All he could hear were gentle snores.

And he heard Jubilee getting out of bed and approaching his room, the gentle footsteps easy to distinguish from the other Xmen. He heard her gently knock on the door.

He opened it to see her worried face. He didn't need to guess what the problem was - she had a nightmare, and by her expression, it was the kind that lingered after you woke up and left you in a cold sweat.

"I can't sleep," she explained, feeling sightly stupid for saying it. She looked down, feeling as if she had to explain herself for intruding on his own sleep. "For months in that cell I dreamed of being in my own bed, and I'd wake up and I'd be back there in that puddle, and you'd be behind me actin' like my pillow."

Wolverine put a hand to the back of his neck in fatigue. He knew the feeling all too well. She may as well have been talking about him. He was expecting this to happen. He was used to experiencing things like this. He had a wisdom that only came with experience. Jubilee wasn't used to it, so it would take longer for her to get over it, he reckoned. To be honest, he would have been surprised if she hadn't come. Nightmares would be just the beginning.

"So I dreamed I was back in the cell and you were dead." She finished pitifully. That horrible night after he was tortured, when she thought he had died in the night. The panic she felt. The misery. The hopelessness. The desire to die herself. "Then I woke up and you weren't there. I had to... I dunno...Uh..." She bit her lip.

"...See if I was still alive?"

She nodded miserably.

"Oh, kid, c'mere." He pulled her into a bear hug, and her body trembled. "I was so afraid you would die, and now I'm home with everything I dreamed for and in my own bed and I'mscared'causeyou'renotthereandcanIsleepinyourroom,dude?"

"No." He answered honestly. It wouldn't be proper.

He felt her head nod under his chin in understanding.

But he couldn't sleep either, partly because she wasn't there. How many times had he awakened in the night while in that cell, afraid that she had stopped beathing? She was his lifeline, and she was imprisoned on account of him inviting her to go to Moscow with him in the first place. If she had died, he wasn't sure if he could ever forgive himself or go on living at all.

He led her out of his room by the hand, leading her downstairs. "What say we share the couch?" Somehow, oddly enough, it felt more proper.

He sat on the floor, his back leaning against the couch, in the same position he adopted while sleeping in the cell. Only this time the floor was softer, dry and clean. And he wasn't resting against a cold wall - it was a delightfully puffy, warm couch.

Jubilee rested her head on his stomach, having curled into a little ball, using him as a pillow. He used the remote to turn on the television and turned the sound down to a very low level. The cell had always a little bit of noise. If it wasn't dripping water, it was clinking chains. If it wasn't a soft snore then it was a guard's quiet conversation with another.

He rested his hand on her cheek, his thumb resting under her nose. In the cell, it was his way of making sure she was still breathing. He could feel the air as she exhaled and inhaled. He leaned his head back on the soft couch and closed his eyes, drifting off to a deep sleep.

---

Jean was always an early morning person. She had a schedule she lived by - before her shower, she would dress in her red sweats and go jogging. After she dressed, she went downstairs and stopped at the sight of the two sleeping mutants. They appeared to have fallen asleep while watching television. It was a rather adorable sight.

She thanked her lucky stars that they were back, safe and sound. She knew they had some level trauma, particularly Jubilee and Rooter, but that could dealt with through counseling. She was just happy they were alive and home.

She opened the front door as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb the two. She hadn't been protecting her thoughts because she thought they were asleep. She hadn't intended to broadcast her thoughts. A smile spread across her face as she heard both Jubilee and Wolverine respond to her telepathically, sleepily.

~It's good to be home.~


-finis :)