Chapter 10

Bobby sat outside the cell, watching the dupe within pace. Celia Reyes sat in a folding chair nearby, medical equipment laid out around her as she checked and rechecked things Bobby didn’t understand.

The dupe stopped and glared at the both of them, running fingers through shaggy hair. His black T-shirt fit snugly across his body, straighter and heavier than Jamie’s, healthier, and perhaps with slightly broader shoulders.

“Know what happens when a dupe is away long enough?” he asked, smiling without humor. “They separate, mind and body. No longer a dupe. Become their own person.”

“You haven’t been away that long,” Bobby said, tearing off a thumbnail.

“No, but Legacy worked on me. Same thing.”

“Says you.”

The dupe shrugged, smiling in an infuriatingly smug way, and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his worn black jeans. “Best case scenario, he dies and I die too.”

Bobby stood up and walked toward Celia. “Anything interesting there?”

She smiled slightly. “This’ll work, Bobby. Everything we’ve done says it will.”

He nodded and scrubbed at the back of his neck.

“It won’t,” the dupe snarled. “I’m my own person. Nothing’ll happen to me. Nothing.” The dupe’s eyes widened suddenly, and he staggered. He sat heavily on the bed, putting his head between his knees.

“Guess he’s not his own person,” Celia murmured quietly, standing and moving her equipment closer.

Bobby fumbled with the cell lock keys, making sure he had the right one ready.

“Oh, shi-” the dupe said, and dropped back onto the bed. His eyes rolled back into his skull, and his body went completely lax.

Bobby jammed the key into the lock and twisted, shoving the door open with his shoulder. Celia was right behind him, hurrying in, climbing onto the bed and tearing the dupe’s shirt open. She put the stethoscope on his chest, moving it from spot to spot, scowling blackly.

Bobby lugged the gear into the cell and set it up where Celia could get to it easily. “He’s alive, right?” Bobby murmured.

Celia ignored him. She reached out for her equipment, slapping a heart monitor on his chest and grabbing the oxygen mask. The heart monitor shrilled. Celia fit the mask over his nose and mouth, grabbing Bobby’s hand and locking it around the rubber pump. “Make him breathe,” she said, and shifted to his chest. She looked up at Bobby pointedly, and it was only then that he realized CPR was necessary. He squeezed. After a bit, Celia slammed down on the dupe’s chest, bouncing the bed with the force of her hands. Bobby looked away, and concentrated on counting and squeezing.

Unconscious, the dupe looked just like Jamie. His hair was a bit longer, a bit shaggier. He had more muscle and bulk to him than Jamie did just at the moment. The heart monitor kept shrilling. Distantly, he realized Celia had picked up paddles and was shouting, “Damn it, Bobby, move!” He shifted away and the machine went off, making the body before him jump and twitch. The heart monitor continued to shrill.

Nearby, Celia worked furiously, flurries of movement near and on the Jamie. The man’s hair was dark, spilled over his pillow. Bobby reached out, brushing a lock out of brown eyes. His skin was colder; not cold, not yet, but colder than it should have been. It was flaccid, more than relaxed. The body twisted and lurched as electricity shot through it. Flat eyes stared, unseeing, while the monitor continued to scream in the background.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, staring at the Jamie-in-black, watching brown hair settle on the blankets. He looked much younger, like this.

It seemed like forever before he realized Celia was still, staring at him. He looked back up at her, working hard to focus.

“You stopped,” he said, aware that his lips weren’t moving nearly as much as they should have been.

Celia nodded slowly. “It’s been ten minutes, Bobby.”

Bobby looked at her blankly. “It didn’t work, did it.”

“No.” Celia reached out, across the body, then stopped and withdrew her hand. “I’m sorry.”

Bobby looked down at the Jamie-who-was-not. Carefully, he pulled the mask off the man’s face. “We could have done a lot with just one more day,” he whispered.

Celia stood, putting a hand briefly on his shoulder, and turned the heart monitor off. The shrill stopped, letting silence invade. Celia turned and left the room.

“My dad phoned yesterday,” Bobby said, his voice distant, looking down at the Jamie. “Wanted to know when we were coming to dinner next. We. Not me.”

The body still lay there, heavy and unmoving. It stared up at the ceiling, as if still counting cracks.

“Jamie,” Bobby whispered, lowering himself until he knelt on the floor, fumbling for his lover’s hand, holding it tightly in both of his. It had been a possibility. They had known that. They had all said it might not work. That the dupe might be too different.

Something cold and wet his hit arm. He glanced down and saw tears falling, dripping slowly off his numb face. Crying silently, Bobby let his head fall forward, resting it on their twined hands. “You can’t be gone yet,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “There was too much to do.”

He sniffed, rubbing his face on the back of his hand, and looked up. Jamie’s face was slack, his mouth open slightly. His eyes stared sightlessly ahead. “I really love you,” Bobby whispered.

The lids closed, slowly. Bobby shuddered and moved away, standing and putting distance between himself and the body. He swallowed hard and stared at the bare chest, rising and falling slowly.

Bobby turned and stumbled out of the room. “Celia?” he called, reaching the hall and racing toward the door. “Celia!”

She entered suddenly, concern etched on her face. “Bobby, what?”

“I think I’m having a nervous breakdown. The body’s moving.”

Celia looked at him blankly for a moment, then stared down the corridor. She shoved past Bobby and ran, turning the corner so sharply her feet nearly slid out from under her. Bobby heard the heart monitor come back to life, and the steady beep-beep echoed down the hall toward him.

Celia’s head came around the doorway. She was grinning. “Bobby, you’re not having a nervous breakdown. He’s alive.”

Somehow, Bobby made it back to the cell door. Jamie lay on the bed still, his chest rising and falling, his skin a healthy pink tone. Celia had put the oxygen mask back over his face, and it clouded as air puffed out of his mouth, laden with moisture.

“Oh, hell,” Bobby said weakly, and had to sit down hard before he fell.

“Bobby!” Celia yelped in surprise. Then she was beside him, fitting a mask over his face and checking his pupils.

Hank appeared, laughing, from nowhere and lifted him easily.

“Wait--Jamie--” Bobby said, cradled in Hank’s arms, his words muffled by the mask.

“It’s all right. Rogue’s here. She’ll take him up.”

Rogue vanished past Hank’s back, and the heart monitor turned off. Bobby craned to see over Hank’s shoulder, and caught a glimpse of Rogue carrying Jamie carefully, using her hand to cradle his head against her shoulder. Bobby relaxed.

“He’ll be--” Bobby frowned and pulled the mask off his face. “He’ll be okay, Hank?”

“He should be,” Hank said, stepping into the elevator and punching the ‘open’ button with one toe. Rogue and Celia entered, and Celia pressed the button for the lab. “His mind should transfer without any problem.”

Bobby rested his head against Hank, craning around to look at Jamie every two seconds. The doors opened and Hank had him settled into the infirmary quickly, fielding ‘what happened to Bobby?’ questions right and left before chasing everyone else out.

Bobby rested for a few more minutes, then, when he was sure he wasn’t going to fall over, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.

Jamie lay, unmoving, the only sign of life his chest going steadily up and down. Bobby sat down next to him and waited.

***

“Who let the elephants dance on my head?” came the groan.

Hank whipped around, surprise written clearly on his face. Jamie moaned and looked up, one hand plastered over his eye.

“Hell. It wasn’t elephants. It was a blue gorilla.” His head dropped back to the bed.

“Jamie?” Hank asked, disbelievingly. After six days, they had started breaking the news to Bobby that Jamie might never wake up. His mind might not transfer. There probably was brain damage, after being dead for so long. It had taken two days for them to convince Bobby to leave the sickbay.

Jamie’s only response was another groan.

“Jamie!” Hank bulleted to the door, making it in two great bounds, punched the intercom and shouted, “Bobby! Jamie’s awake!”

“An inconsiderate blue gorilla,” Jamie muttered.

“Can you tell me your name?” Hank demanded, landing next to Jamie’s bed.

“Jamie.”

“You remember!”

Jamie moved his arm and peered at Hank out from under it. A grin slowly spread across his face. “You’ve been shouting it at me.”

Hank’s own smile faded. “Can you tell me where you are?”

Jamie’s smile faltered, and he put his arm back over his eyes. “Earth,” he said at last. His body had stiffened slightly, and he lay unmoving.

“Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?” Hank asked quietly. He grabbed a stool with his foot and yanked it close, settling his bulk on it carefully.

Jamie wiggled his fingers and toes without actually moving his arm away from his eyes.

“Jamie?”

Jamie moved his arm slightly and looked up at Hank.

“My name is Doctor Henry McCoy. Hank. Your name is James Madrox. You suffered from the Legacy Virus. You are a mutant, and you create exact copies of yourself. To cure you, we killed the copy your mind was in, and your mind transferred to this copy. The amnesia will be temporary.” Hank waited for some sort of response, and when none was forthcoming asked, “Do you understand?”

“Yeah,” Jamie said slowly. “But I do have a question.”

“Ask away.”

“Do you dye your hair that color? I mean that’s like, ‘hi, I’m Hank, and I’m a blueberry-aholic.’ If--”

Bobby erupted through the door, slid across the tile floor, and landed hard against Hank’s arm.

“No jumping,” Hank ordered sternly. “He doesn’t remember.”

Bobby’s grin faded.

Jamie was half out of bed, using it as a shield. “So I’m guessing I was pretty popular.”

Sam crashed through the door, blast field on full, shot through the air and plucked Jamie right up.

“Not meant to fly not meant to fly not meant to fly!” Jamie was shouting, clinging to Sam as the young man did acrobatics in the limited space of the medbay.

“Ah missed ya’ll so much!” Sam cried, letting Jamie back down to the floor.

“He doesn’t remember, Sam,” Bobby said dryly, just a hint of jealousy in his gaze.

“Oh. Right.” Sam stepped back and blushed brightly, running a self-conscious hand through his wind-tousled hair. “Well. Ya’ll better explain it, then.” He turned and fled.

Bobby grinned. “Hey, Jamie. Welcome back.”

Jamie grinned wryly and rubbed his shoulder where Sam had squeezed him. “I’m getting that.”

***

“So . . .” Sam trailed off, looking at Jamie uncertainly. Jamie lay on the floor at Warren’s feet, while Warren snored lightly, sprawled on the living room sofa.

“Yes, Bobby explained everything. Mutant orphan from New Mexico by way of Kansas and Scotland and DC, government spook, superhero.” He cocked his head up at Sam consideringly, twisting his neck to peer at Sam, behind him. “I’m fairly sure he’s leaving something important out.” He looked back down at the floor and continued, “Also, I happen to be a scientist-y superhero.”

“If I can make so many of me’s,” another Jamie said, sitting up into view suddenly on the couch, “why don’t I have lots of PhDs? I mean, if I can make me and then reabsorb me and have all that knowledge--”

“Ah don’t know,” Sam interrupted.

“Hmph,” the dupe said, and disappeared.

“What are ya’ll doin’ down there?” Sam came around the side of the couch, but his view was still blocked by the television-watching Jamie’s body.

“Nothing.”

His arms and shoulders moved slightly as he did something, then stilled again. Sam walked around until he could see what was going on.

Warren’s toenails were pink. Barbie pink. Jamie was painting with delicate little strokes, and then blowing on the wet polish to dry it.

“Just goes to show how little memory affects our behavior,” Sam murmured quietly, and quickly left the room.

Jamie-watching-television turned again, to see Sam leaving. “I like him,” he said to himself.

“Me too,” his dupe replied before carefully drying Warren’s toes.

Jamie glanced over, watching the progress with interest. “Are you sure about Barbie pink? I still think purple would have been better.”

“Amateur,” the dupe said calmly.

Jamie shrugged, then sat up quickly. “I’m going upstairs.”

“Someone has a cru-ush…” the dupe sang.

Jamie glared at him. “Shuddap.” He stood in one flowing motion, stretching his back, then started out of the living room. He was up the stairs and in front of Bobby’s open door before he quite realized what he was doing.

Bobby was on the floor, his keyboard on his lap, his head craned to look up at the monitor of his computer--which was on the desk above him.

Jamie glanced around. The desk chair was across the room, blocking the way to the half-bathroom. “Wouldn’t it be easier to sit in that?” he said, tucking his hands in his pockets and smiling.

Bobby jumped, startled, and then grinned. “It’s there for a reason.”

Jamie took a step farther into the bedroom, uncertainly smiling. “Oh? What reason’s that?”

“It’s blocking in the bathroom elves.”

Jamie grinned. “Bathroom elves?”

Bobby nodded. “They’ve been plugging up my toilet all day. The plumber says he can’t come out until tomorrow.”

Jamie laughed softly. “Well. That makes sense.” He took another half step into the room, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“You gonna come in?” Bobby asked, staring at the screen again. “I’m just checking my e-mail.”

Relieved, Jamie entered the room, perching on the bed behind Bobby. “Anything good?”

“Danger room session schedule from Scott that I didn’t get,” Bobby said, hitting the delete button, “chain mail from Rogue, and several people wanting to enlarge my penis size.”

“Your penis size is just fine,” Jamie said, the words popping out of his mouth before he quite realized what he was saying.

Bobby’s head snapped up and around, his eyes wide.

A blush spread slowly across Jamie’s features.

Bobby grinned. “Well. That’s good to know. Thanks.”

Jamie nodded nonchalantly, bravely ignoring his red face. “Anytime. No problem.”

Still grinning, Bobby turned back to his screen. “How’s the memory coming?”

Jamie sighed and flopped backward on the bed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I remember this girl. Younger than me. Red hair, funny accent. Very furry.”

Bobby laughed. “Rahne. You used to work with her.”

“Ah.”

Bobby stood, sitting on the bed next to Jamie’s prone form. “Anything else?”

Jamie thought for a moment. “Concern about what my mom thought about homosexuals.” His eyes moved, focusing on Bobby’s face. “Where is my mom?”

Bobby dropped his gaze. “She died a long time ago.”

Jamie nodded, staring at the ceiling again. “Thought so.” At Bobby’s curious look, he smiled. “It doesn’t hurt.” His eyes shifted, pinning Bobby once more. “Can I ask you something?”

Bobby nodded. “Anything.”

Jamie sat up, then stopped, realizing suddenly that he was slightly too close to Bobby for comfort. He stared at the other man, nearly drowning in blue eyes. His heart rate picked up, blood pooling in his veins. Jamie cleared his throat and looked down at the bedspread. “Am I gay?”

Bobby moved. His face came into view, smiling. “Yes.”

Jamie stared at Bobby for a moment, trying to screw up the courage to ask what he wanted to ask. Finally, he took a deep breath and went for a similar question. “Did I have a crush on you?”

Bobby’s smiled widened. He moved forward, slowly, giving Jamie plenty of time to shift away. Jamie didn’t move. He held his breath, goosebumps rising along his arms. Bobby’s mouth closed slowly over his, soft and tender, not even remotely demanding.

Jamie’s eyes closed and he kissed Bobby back, his body tightening, his nerves tingling. Bobby’s hand slid around, long fingers wrapping through his hair, cradling the back of his skull and pulling him closer.

Several long minutes later, they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily.

“Yes,” Bobby said. “But it’s mutual.”

Jamie grinned and laid back on the bed, stretching. “I knew there was something missing.”

Bobby’s fingers trailed up his rib cage, over the thin material of his shirt. He bent, nibbling on Jamie’s neck.

Jamie laughed, shivering, feeling warm breath and sharp teeth bite down gently on the tendons that ran under his skin. “How long have we been together?” he asked, trying to keep his mind relatively clear.

“Since summer,” Bobby answered between bites. His tongue flicked out and he blew into Jamie’s ear.

“Oh,” Jamie said. He twisted suddenly, rolling the both of them over, ignoring Bobby’s yelp. He straddled the other man, hands on his chest. “That explains why this bed feels better than mine.”

Bobby grinned and folded his hands behind his head, looking up at Jamie’s slender body. “Yup.”

“And you’ve managed to keep your hands off me for all this time,” Jamie said, eyebrows raised.

“It was hard.”

“I bet. Am I any good in--“ he blushed, but continued, “in bed?”

“You’re great in bed,” Bobby said enthusiastically, then lurched upward, grabbing Jamie and rolling so he was on the bottom once more.

It would have worked, if the bed hadn’t ended so abruptly.

“I think my foot is caught between the footboard and the mattress,” Jamie said, twisted.

“I think those parts of me that, a moment ago, were so excited are now damaged beyond repair,” Bobby groaned.

“Can’t be,” Jamie said happily.

“Oh?”

“You’re not a soprano.”

“Point.”

After a good deal of grunting, twisting, and not-so-good contact, they finally managed to get up. Bobby walked calmly to his door, closing it firmly. Then he turned back and eyed Jamie.

Jamie was standing on the other side of the bed, fingering a belt loop. He looked up from under a dark fringe of hair, and smiled hesitantly. “Um, I’m nervous,” he said after a moment, smiling apologetically.

Bobby quashed the desire to beg and plead. “Okay. No big deal. We can wait,” he said, shrugging as if it didn’t make him want to throw himself on the floor and sob.

“I didn’t say that!” Jamie yelped, looking alarmed. “Just, y’know.” He blushed again, and lost his nerve. He gave a half laugh and wouldn’t meet Bobby’s gaze. “I mean, you feel right. Like I should remember this. Just, maybe, slowly?”

Bobby breathed a sigh of relief. “Slowly’s good,” he said, and smiled.

**

Scott walked into the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee. Then he stopped and looked suspiciously over his shoulder. “Why are you two so quiet?” he asked.

Bobby and Jamie both looked up at him, as innocent as two babes covered in chocolate.

“No reason,” Jamie said.

“Long night,” Bobby said, producing a blush from Jamie.

Scott stared at them for a long moment. “No more hair dye in Hank’s shampoo,” he said severely.

“Actually, we were thinking Nair in Betsy’s conditioner,” Jamie quipped.

Bobby snickered.

Scott shrugged. “If you really want to piss her off…” he said, walking out of the room.

Behind him, both boys started laughing. Scott made a mental note to small all his hair care products before using anything.

**

“Are you sure this’ll work?” Bobby asked, putting the lid down on the washer and turning to Jamie.

“Oh, yeah. It worked before, when I did it.” His eyes flew open suddenly, and Jamie looked up. “Bobby! I remember doing it before!”

“That’s great!” Bobby cried, grinning.

Jamie was practically jumping up and down. “I did it to this green haired woman--“

“Polaris?” Bobby asked in awe. “Didn’t she kill you?”

Jamie stopped. “I don’t remember that part.”

“Possibly for the better,” Bobby said solemnly.

“But I remember!” Jamie jumped forward, into Bobby’s arms, and hugged him until he though both their rib cages would burst.

“What are you two doing? And why aren’t you doing it in your own room?” Betsy asked, walking into the laundry room just then.

“Good questions,” Bobby said quickly, grabbing Jamie and hauling him out. “We’ll go do it in our room.”

“But it’s better with soap!” Jamie yelled behind them.

**

“How much trouble are we in?” Jamie whispered, sitting outside the intimidating office in two little folding chairs. They had been set there just for them; Jamie was sure of it.

“Can’t be much,” Bobby whispered back. “Scott had that I’m-going-to-pretend-I’m-mad-because-it’s-appropriate-and-Jean-will-kill-me-if-I-don’t-but-really-I-think-it’s-great look on his face.”

Jamie thought about that for a moment. “He has complicated looks,” he said at last.

Bobby nodded solemnly. “Took me a long time to learn them all. Stick around, you’ll catch on.”

A moment later the door opened. Jean, Rogue, Betsy and Ororo left the office, all of them wearing tiny, white clothing that didn’t used to be either tiny or white. None of the women looked at the young men, but Jamie could have sworn Jean slapped him as she walked by.

“Gentlemen?” Scott asked from the doorway.

Bobby and Jamie stood. “Ah,” Jamie said softly. “I see what you mean about the expression.”

Bobby nodded, then turned to Scott and opened his arms wide, grinning. “Come on, Fearless! It was great!”

**

“I remember the time Moira decorated the lab for Halloween,” Jamie said, sitting on the examination table while Hank drew blood. “She painted everything red.”

Bobby smiled fondly, sitting next to his boyfriend, their hands linked. “Do you remember the time I threw you into the pond?”

“I remember that I still need to get even with you for that,” Jamie countered quickly.

Bobby laughed. This had become a favorite pastime, as Jamie’s memories returned. Every one was new and old, all at the same time, and sometimes Jamie didn’t even realize he remembered something until Bobby pointed it out.

It had taken five weeks, but things were nearly back to normal. And, best of all, Jamie wasn’t depressed.

The early warning signs of the Legacy virus had yet to rear their ugly heads, and though Hank tested Jamie every few days, his hormonal levels hadn’t changed a bit.

Now, Hank looked up from his microscope and winked. “Everything looks beautiful, gentlemen. I’ll run the blood sample through some more tests just to be sure, but you still look clean.”

“That’s good,” Jamie said on a sigh, hopping down off the table. He smiled brilliantly and added, “I just showered this morning.”

Bobby laughed and escorted Jamie from the medlab. Everything was perfect.

** Back to the living room
Back to Water Lines

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