Chapter 9

“Do you know why ‘Ro doesn’t like to mess with the weather so drastically?” Jamie asked, settling back into the hard plastic chair next to Bobby. He turned his head, grinning under black reflective sunglasses.

“Why?” Bobby asked.

“Because it messes up the weather world-wide. Think about that. Because of our whim, China may be having monsoons right now.”

“Maybe it’s monsoon season,” Bobby suggested.

Jamie grinned. “Maybe.”

“Cannonball!” Hank bellowed, leaping from the diving board.

“What?” Sam shouted back, wrenching his head around before he realized that Hank wasn’t talking to him.

Bobby and Jamie both bolted, trying to get out of the splash zone before Hank hit. It didn’t work, but Jamie managed to catch hold of Bobby’s waist, twisting them both around and using him as a human shield.

“Unfair holding!” Bobby shouted, drenched in water. “Five point penalty!”

“I object! I want a second opinion!” Jamie yelled, laughing.

“Having seen the play,” Scott said calmly from where he dripped a few feet away, “I would have to say it was fair. All’s fair in love and Hank-avoiding.”

Jamie grinned.

“Hamburgers are done!” Warren shouted from the grill. There was a flood of people, then a flood of water as Hank lunged out of the pool. He shook, imitating a dog, and soaked nearly everyone present.

Jean picked him up telekinetically and dumped him back into the water.

“I’m not using that deck of cards,” Logan growled as he walked by, completely oblivious to the nearby soaking.

“I don’ cheat, Logan,” Remy argued, his face slightly flushed. “Not ‘gainst you, anyway. Dat would jus’ be stupid.”

“Damn right,” Logan agreed.

“What do ya’ll want on yoh slab o’ meat?” Sam shouted from the barbeque, looking at Jamie and Bobby.

“Barbeque sauce, mustard, pickles, mayo, and onions!” Jamie shouted back.

Bobby eyed him askance. “I’m never kissing you again.” Then he turned to Sam and shouted, “Ketchup and relish!”

Jamie shook his head. “No taste.”

“That’s all right,” Bobby said, already grinning. “My sexy ass makes up for it.”

Jamie laughed.

“And especially the amazing things I do with my sexy ass,” Bobby added.

Jamie shook his head, bemused, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t blushing furiously.

“You kids want in on the poker game?” Logan asked, walking past once more, now with two hot dogs and a hamburger all loaded up with toppings.

“No, thanks, Logan,” Bobby said. “I don’t play poker with guys who can smell a bluff.”

“Don’t need to smell it on you,” Logan responded.

Bobby did a double take, trying to decide if the man was teasing or not. Afterward, he still wasn’t sure. Instead of worrying about it, he did a little sexy-ass dance. Even though Jamie blushed again and turned away, he knew that the younger man was still paying attention.

“Got a bee in yoh drawers?” Sam asked, landing next to the two men. Then he glanced at Jamie and added, “Or is this some sort o’ gay thing?”

“It’s a gay thing,” Bobby assured him, still unabashedly dancing. He gave a last little wiggle and stopped, looking at the back of Jamie’s head over his shoulder. “Okay,” he said, grinning, “it’s safe to pretend you know me again.”

“It’s never safe to pretend that I know you,” Jamie said wryly.

“Got that one right,” Sam said, nodding vehemently as he took a huge bite of his hot dog. “Pretendin’ ta know Bobby is just askin’ ta get beat up in a parkin’ lot.”

“Hey!” Bobby protested.

“It’s true, hon,” Rogue said, sidling up beside them and leaning against a glass table. “The guys at Harry’s are just waitin’ ta get ya alone.”

“You’re just jealous because all the guys like me better than you.”

Sam choked on his hot dog and had to turn away. Rogue tipped her head, looking at him like a curious zoo specimen. “Right,” Rogue said dryly. “’Cause yoh sex-ass wiggle dance is so alluring.”

“Oh, come on. You can’t say you wouldn’t fall for the sexy-ass wiggle,” Bobby said, demonstrating once more.

“Fall ovah laughin’, maybe.”

“How could anyone resist the sexy-ass wiggle dance?” Bobby said, turning around so they all got the full benefit of his sexy ass. He met Logan’s gaze over the top of a hand of cards, and rethought his statement. “Okay,” he said to Logan, “maybe you could resist it.”

Logan nodded and looked back down at his cards.

Bobby peered over his own shoulder at the others, still wiggling. “You know, given that Logan’s the manliest man here, I’m starting to think maybe he’s a closet case,” he whispered.

“I heard that.”

“I was just saying,” Bobby directed his attention back to Logan, “that you’re a . . . um . . .” he looked at Jamie. “What sounds like closet case?”

Jamie shrugged.

“Oh. Um. I just meant that you have an inner fashion sense that you’re denying.”

Logan looked at Bobby from under his eyebrows, and didn’t bother with a reply.

“Not that the flannel isn’t a statement in itself. And, really, where did you find flannel swim trunks?”

Logan still didn’t respond.

“Actually,” Rogue said, holding back laughter, “those were a gift from Jubilee. Ah think they were supposed to be a gag gift.”

That made Bobby stop wiggling. “Wow. He really does need to let his inner fashion sense out.”

“Cannonball!” came a shout from the pool, and once more Sam whipped around.

“Wha--oh, hell,” he said, shaking his head and turning back to the others. Hank crashed into the pool, clinging to Warren who screamed obscenities the whole way down, wings askew. Feathers floated to the top, riding the waves like little war torn kayaks.

“Mmm. Chlorinated hot dogs,” Bobby said, and took a big bite. He chewed once and stopped. “Ew,” he said around his mouthful.

“Ah’m movin’ out a’ the danger zone,” Rogue said, and took to the air.

“God damn it, Hank!” Warren screeched, coming out of the water. His wings tottered and flapped slowly, the unconscious balancing act of a raptor. “Do you have any idea how long it’ll take to get these dry? And the feathers back in proper order? I can’t preen, man!”

Hank blew bubbles.

Warren turned and saw Bobby, Jamie and Sam doing their best not to laugh. His eyes narrowed. He flapped.

Water came at them in a wave, a giant chlorinated tsunami racing out of the pool and crashing into them. They barely had time to turn away before they were all drenched.

“Well,” Sam said, spitting out pool water, “that was . . . “

“Refreshing?” Jamie suggested.

“Ah was gonna say wet.”

“Cannonball!”

“Hank, would ya’ll cut that ou--” Sam started to say, and was suddenly swept off his feet by a flying blue bundle. Before he had time to blast away, Hank had carried him to the pool edge and jumped, dragging him down into the water in a great big splash.

They surfaced, either grinning or sputtering.

Sam hauled himself out of the water while Hank did a backstroke around the now half-filled pool.

“We have got to do somethin’ ta him,” Sam muttered, wringing out the hair in his face.

“Hang on,” Bobby murmured, eyes slightly unfocused. “It is winter,” he breathed. “Not even ‘Ro can drive away all the Cold . . .”

Hank pulled up and out of the water, shook, and suddenly yelped. He turned to dive back in, but the pool had frozen solid.

Bobby was grinning widely.

Hank started jumping up and down, yelling and screaming, and finally threw himself to the grass and rolled. Ice shards broke and fell out of his fur, leaving a shimmering silver coat on the grass.

“Robert Drake!” he bellowed, still laying on his back. “I’ll get you for that!”

Bobby lifted. He let out a quick shout, then looked around rapidly for what was causing his sudden flight.

Jean was staring at him very intently.

“Oh, come on! He deserved it!”

“Sure did,” she said, both verbally and telepathically, “but I want in on the fun.”

Bobby was hovering over the pool. “Um, Jeannie, it’s ice.”

The ice broke, crashed around a bit, and became mush.

“Oh, shit,” Bobby managed, and then plummeted into the pool. The cold hit his skin and his body reacted like any other human would. The ability to move at all disappeared, as every bit of his body tried to crawl inside his brain. Jean yanked him back up and set him down on the stone again, where he stumbled and reached to Jamie for support.

Jamie backed away quickly. “Heck no,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re not getting me slushy.”

Bobby grinned, iced, de-iced and was back to normal. “Ah. It could have been fun.”

“Your clothing’s cracking,” Jamie pointed out.

Bobby looked down. Sure enough, some of the material had made it through the sudden temperature changes all right, but other areas were starting to shatter. He’d done it too fast. “I’d better go change,” he said, grinning sheepishly.

Bobby hurried inside, pulling off his shirt as he went, and swapped his frozen clothes for fresh ones. They seemed warm against his skin, almost hot, and he took a moment before pulling the shirt over his head to let his body re-adjust.

He stepped out the door and started down the hall, trotting down the stairs. He stopped at the landing, watching Jamie stand in the sliding glass doorway, talking to Jean. She laughed brightly, green eyes sparkling, and gave him a gentle shove. Grinning, Jamie turned and stepped into the house. He caught sight of Bobby and paused, looking.

Bobby felt a need to squirm under that dark brown gaze, but squashed the urge and instead stepped toward Jamie.

“Hey,” Jamie said, walking up and moving into Bobby’s arm.

Bobby wrapped himself around Jamie, resting his head next to the other man’s. Jamie had grown, in the short time they’d known each other. He thought back to the first days, in DC, that first meeting when he’d made Jamie fall into the water. That night, forming a fast friendship over the-loser-wins poker and the instant understanding that came when you met another jokester, who wasn’t simply a dummy.

“I miss those first days,” Jamie said against his shoulder, seemingly reading his mind.

Bobby held him tighter. “Me too.”

Jamie took a deep breath and pulled back slightly, looking up at Bobby. “I’d like to--to do this--thing. Now.”

Bobby bit back his response--just wait, we can do it later, just give me a little more time--and nodded. “The others?”

Jamie shook his head. “Let them play. I’d rather not have a funeral before I even die.” Jamie grinned weakly. “Get Hank and Dr. Reyes. I’ll be down in the lab.”

Bobby started to protest, then nodded. “Right.” Jamie pulled away, his hand leaving Bobby’s slowly. Bobby could still feel the tingle of his fingers, the ghost pressure, as Jamie went toward the elevator.

Taking a deep breath, Bobby turned and went back outside. He smiled cheerfully, and fakely, to the people he passed, making his way toward Hank, who was baking the last of the chill out of his fur. Bobby knelt, putting a hand on Hank’s chest. Hank opened one eye, then saw Bobby’s expression and sat up.

“Jamie--?”

Bobby nodded.

Hank put his hand on Bobby’s shoulder and squeezed gently. “Cecilia is with Betsy and Rogue,” he said quietly. “Would you mind asking her to go to the dupe in the holding cells?”

“Sure thing, Grover,” Bobby said, clinging to the last bit of cheerfulness, knowing that if he didn’t he wouldn’t make it through this. He stood, letting Hank up, and Hank gave him one more squeeze before walking quietly to the house.

Bobby took a deep breath and made his way toward Cecilia. She saw him coming and stood, silencing the conversation around her. She looked at him questioningly.

Bobby swallowed and nodded, once. He managed a smile at the others there, then turned and started for the back doors. His hands were numb. His arms, too. His face felt frozen, not with the comforting Cold that was his, but with a prickling, clay-like sensation that he imagined ice would feel like to someone else.

Then there was another person in his mind, flooding it with love and support. He could hear the whisper of everyone there, tinged with a distinct Jean flavor. Feeling came back into his limbs, and the smile left his face. Somehow, it was better.

No one spoke as he made his way into, and then through, the house. He stepped into the lab and stopped, seeing Jamie lying on a medical bed, Hank sitting beside him. They were talking quietly, but stopped as Bobby entered the room. Hank stood and let himself out.

Jamie sat up and waited for Bobby to approach. He did, after a moment to adjust. “You’re sure about this?” he couldn’t stop himself from saying.

Jamie only nodded.

Bobby sat in Hank’s vacated spot and took one of Jamie’s hands in his. It was bony, the tendons like thread under the skin. Veins lay like blue worms, sliding and shifting with every movement. When had Jamie gotten so skinny?

“I love you,” Jamie said quietly.

Bobby looked up and met his gaze. “I love you, too.”

Jamie’s eyes dropped. “Will you go and--and stay with the other me? The me I’ll be when I come back?”

Bobby tightened his grip and leaned away. He didn’t want to let go, and couldn’t listen to what Jamie was asking. “I’d rather be here,” he said, finally.

Jamie’s lips tightened. “I don’t want you to see this. I can’t do this with you here. I don’t want you to see me die, Bobby. I’d rather you be there when I wake up, confused and disoriented and alive.” He looked up then, searching Bobby’s face. “Please.”

“What if--”

“If something goes wrong,” Jamie said, smiling, “or I don’t wake back up? I’ll still be here for you to say goodbye to, then.”

Bobby’s jaw tightened. He glared at the sheets, the equipment, the gas tank and mask that hung so innocently in the corner. “I love you,” he said finally, and stood, leaning over to kiss Jamie. He lingered, tasting the other man, memorizing the way he felt, the catch in his breath. Then Bobby stood and let Jamie’s hand fall out of his. “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Jamie smiled, eyes too bright, and nodded.

Bobby left quickly, before he changed his mind and picked Jamie up, told him that they weren’t going to do this, and carried him far, far away.

He closed the door behind him. “He’s ready,” Bobby said to Hank, his voice a croak.

Hank grabbed him tight, crushing the breath out of him, giving him a mouthful of hair. Bobby hugged him back, doing his best to hide inside the fur where nothing and no one could ever get him. Then he pushed back, wiped tears from his face, and smiled. “I’m going to go down. To greet him when he wakes up.”

“Good idea,” Hank said. “It might be a while. Give it time.”

Bobby nodded, and moved away down the hall.

***

Jamie watched as Hank pulled the gas mask and tank closer, setting it up next to the bed.

“This won’t hurt, right?” Jamie said in a near whisper.

“No, Jamie,” Hank answered, putting one great paw on Jamie’s forehead. “You’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up you’ll be in a new body.”

Jamie cracked a weak grin. “In a cell.”

Hank smiled back. “We’ll try to move you before that happens.” Hank waited, but when Jamie said nothing more he went back to his preparations. Jamie laid there patiently while Hank attached a heart monitor and checked all the valves on the machines.

“Hank?” Jamie said quietly when Hank sat back up. “No matter what happens, you did the right thing. Legacy would have killed me soon.”

Hank nodded silently. “Ready then?”

Jamie took a deep breath and nodded back. The urge to hit something and create a dupe was great. Anything so that someone, other than Hank who had to do doctor stuff, would be there to help. So he wouldn’t pass out alone. He wondered if he would wake up alone. If he would wake up. Maybe atheists were right, and this would be the end of everything.

Hank fit the mask over his face and twisted a nozzle. “If you change your mind,” Hank said, smoothing the hair away from his forehead, “blink twice.”

Jamie nodded. Gas breathed into his lungs, cool and soft against his face. It didn’t taste like anything. It didn’t smell. He realized he’d stopped breathing anyway, and carefully inhaled a small amount of air. His heart was pounding. The monitor next to him beeped rapidly, a quick march.

The door opened, and Sam stepped inside. Wordlessly, he walked to the bed and sat on the side opposite Hank. He remained silent as he picked up one of Jamie’s hands and just held it, rubbing Jamie’s knuckles with one finger. “Bobby sent me,” he said, quietly.

Jamie nodded, and the world spun. His fingers tightened around Sam’s, but even he could feel the pressure they exerted was negligent. His mind drifted. Some small part of him realized that the heart monitor was beeping slowly. He felt cold, inside, in his stomach and liver and lungs. Nothing to do with the gas. The feeling of Sam holding his hand dimmed, and so did the room around him, until Hank blended into the walls and cabinets and retreated down a dark hall, leaving him alone in a dark room full of echoes.

Jean entered his mind, a brief touch, carrying with her everyone he had come to know and love.

You aren’t alone, it said. You’ll never be alone. We’ll make it through this, too.

And then he died.

** Back to the living room
Back to Water Lines

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