SUMMARY: Logan comes down with a cold after his healing factor has been tampered with and it's up to Jubilee to find and take care of him. To make matters worse, Mid Autumn storms reap havoc in Westchester causing all kinds of mischief.

NOTE: Anything phrases or sentences bordered by an asterix indicates a character is using internal dialogue. The segment author's name is in parenthesis and begins each segment. Above all else; ENJOY!

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Part One

(Tyna)

Hot, cold, hot, cold. His body couldn't decide.

Anything he touched felt so cold that he shivered constantly, but when he tucked himself into a blanket, moments later he was tossing it across the room as far as his failing strength let him. More chills raced from head to toe. Muttering under his breath, Logan dragged himself off his cot and bent to retrieve the cast-away blanket. Suddenly, the cave started to spin. Unprepared for the nausea, he fell to the ground and curled into a ball. Caught between nausea and exhaustion he passed out, vaguely aware that no one knew where he was, no one would be coming to the rescue.

******

"So what you're trying to say, Hank, is that he's...sick?"

Jubilee couldn't believe her ears. Logan NEVER got sick. His healing factor simply didn't allow it. Even without her college degree in mutant biochemistry, she knew it just wasn't possible. "My dear child," he reminded her. "I, unlike you, have been in this field much longer. I've seen chemical compounds that astound me even to this day. Sinister is a mutant genius, especially in the field of genetics and biochemistry, and delights in creating controlled chaos, if you will. Do not underestimate him!"

Stunned by this rather emotional tirade, Jubilee simply stared at the blue furred doctor, his back now to her. She hadn't meant to insult him, but her growing concern for Logan had colored her reaction.

*Wolvie, where are you?* Frantically she tried to recall the last time she had seen him.

"Jubilee..." Hank paused to shove a small amount of pills into a bottle. He knew what Logan meant to her and wanted to reassure the poor thing. "His healing factor has been tampered with. However, the effect is not permanent. In time it will counteract any sickness, like always. In the meantime he'll need..."

Hank turned around to give Jubilee a bottle of antibiotics, but faced an empty room instead. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth. *It figures,* he thought, placing the bottle in a small Velcro sealed bag and rushed out of medlab after her.

Utendi

*The girl can be just as impulsive as Logan himself...*

He nabbed the bag in his teeth, dropping to all fours and galloping after her on soles and knuckles. The gallumphing gait was not the most graceful way to travel, but he caught up with her in only a few lurching strides, reaching out to snag her wrist so that she might actually listen to what he had to say.

"JuBIlee," he stressed again, hauling her to a stop. The girl's eyes were wide and wet with concern; her expression already tense with the frustration she must be feeling. McCoy's larger hands unfurled towards hers, peeled open her fingers and placed the bag inside.

She warned, though nervously, "Don't try to stop me. Logan is out there, and he needs me, and I¡¦"

His grip upon her wrist became firm, and though gentle, still conveyed the seriousness of the moment. It quieted her, at least.

"I wouldn't waste my time on such an obviously fruitless pursuit... But please, Jubilation, be careful. You know the places that Logan secretes himself when he wishes to be alone--and they are not always the most choice."

"I'll be careful," she said, but more softly, rolling the bag up and tucking it under her belt. She felt the blue X-Man's eyes roving over her before his clawed hand came up to stroke his chin.

"Perhaps I should come with--"

"No! I can do it myself... Please!"

Already the girl was backing away, the bright yellow of her duster seeming to gleam with a neon luminescence in the evening dimness of the mansion corridor. McCoy sighed, dropping down again so that his forward weight rested on his sturdy knuckles. Not only impulsive, but hardheaded as well. Wolverine had indeed taught the girl very well.

"Just be careful, Jubilation. We don't need two missing X-Men. And dress warmly!"

"You won't tell the others?" By now she had retreated to the door, snatching her scarf from the steerhead-turned-coatrack looming in the corner. The whites of her eyes were brilliant, hopeful. Even in full adulthood, she had the appealing innocence of the same little girl he had argued with, years ago.

"You have twelve hours, Jubilation. If neither of you have returned by then, I simply must tell the others. You understand..."

Jubilee wasn't happy about it, but she nodded, deciding that twelve hours was certainly better than nothing. In any case, it would give her enough time to cram her backpack full of whatever she would need (just what DID one take, when hunting for a sick mutant?) and head out on his trail. Better to be off now, before it grew too cold... The girl turned swiftly, slicker snapping lightly as a gust of wet air from outside curled it up around her waist.

Hank McCoy watched until the door swung heavily shut at Jubilee's back, then hung his head, shaking it pendulously back and forth.

"...God Speed, my dear. Don't make me regret letting you go..."

Three cans of chunky soup, a blanket, thermometer, a box of tissues and a box of herbal tea hadn't sounded heavy, when she'd made the mental inventory. Three hours later, however, with the woods crowding all around her like mobs of angry scarecrows, Jubilee wondered if she might have accidentally crammed a couple of fifty-pound barbells into her backpack without realizing it.

Stooped over, protected from the wind and rain by a yellow slicker, Jubilee trooped across the mushy forest floor, marveling that Professor Xavier or someone else had not thought to put up markers, or some other navigational assistants. If she didn't find Wolverine soon, she too would more than likely be completely lost, and would have to wait for someone to find her. *Now wouldn't that just be too humiliating for words*

"Logan!" she called out, squinting up towards the pine boughs as they reached, stretching, for the heavens. The rain was rendered in sharp perspective, falling in long blades towards her, splattering across the end of her nose and chin. Jubilee palmed the dampness from her face, adjusted her two-hundred-pound backpack, and then went back to her inexperienced tracking.

She was actually surprised she'd made it this far; a quick check of the garage had verified that his scoot' was still in place, untouched... meaning that he'd either hitchhiked into town and beyond, or trekked off somewhere by foot. Hitchhiking would have been the route of choice had she not noticed a few deep, ribbed footprints in the mud leading away from the stables. They'd led her a few yards, slushy and loose, before vanishing across some gravel, and then once again reappearing near the foot of the woods.

With her direction decided, Jubilee had set off on foot through the trees, imagining herself the expert huntress. The rain, although it still managed to drip through the canopy of pines, was lesser on the forest floor, and had not completely dissolved Logan's footprints. For the first two hours she'd had good luck spotting them in the needled carpet underfoot, or painted in muddy relief on a rock that he'd briefly used for leverage. Now, however, the pickings were slim... she'd seen neither claw nor hide of him in an hour, and things were beginning to look desperate.

"WOLVIE?!?", she howled, surprised at just how desperate her own voice sounded. It was hopeless... she'd never find him. He was probably miles away from here and in the total opposite direction, and--and there was a light in the forest.

Picking her head up, suddenly inspired by delight, Jubilee fairly leapt over a fallen tree in her path, and cleared the remainder of the distance with long, coltish strides. Sliding in the loose layers of earth and pine needles underfoot, she skidded to a halt, just before running into the half-buried mouth of what appeared to be a bear's den, or cave. Except¡¦bears didn't usually carry around lamps, which is what seemed to be the source of the flickering, golden glow.

Lowering herself to her knees, grimacing at the slimy feel of the mud beneath them, Jubilee crawled through the damp opening, and dropped down to the floor of the makeshift shelter. She could hear movement up ahead, where the light was brighter, and saw angular shadows occasionally lashing the walls. She approached them more timidly than before.

"...Wolvie?"

Tyna

Fear nearly stopped her heart. It sounded like someone or something was attacking him. Then she heard his unmistakable roar, just before her Wolvie stumbled into view, definitely a sight for sore eyes.

Well, sort of.

His roar ended in a fit of coughing. Sweat glistened on his flush skin and slicked down his hair. Claws fully extended, he sliced away at invisible assailants. Blood flew with each gesture from the wounds, which were usually closed the instant he unsheathed the claws. His coordination gone, the last swipe overbalanced him and sent him barreling towards Jubilee.

Instinct took over. Jubilee leapt up and, using Logan's shoulders for leverage, vaulted onto his back. He roared again, the sound vibrating every bone in her body.

"Logan please... it's me. Please stop. No one's hurting you!" She clung to his hot skin while he bucked and spun. She was getting nowhere; words weren't working.

A thought dawned on her. The sickness had reduced him to an animal level no longer kept hidden. Jubilee tightened her grip on his waist with her legs and locked ankles. She pressed closer to his body, bringing her throat near to his ear, and thrummed.

The noise cut through his fevered mind. It chased away the demons and calmed his frantic heartbeat. He paused to respond with his own bass rumble. Everything seemed to move in slow motion, as his adrenaline based strength fled. Spent, Logan slumped, face first to the ground.

Jubilee thrummed until he passed out completely. Carefully she pulled her arms and legs out from under him and backtracked to the shelter's entrance. Weak from her hours of tracking, she dragged her backpack inside.

She was so tired. Unconscious, he was dead weight, challenging her strung-out body as she maneuvered him back onto the cot and nearly skewered herself on one of his claws.

*What the...they didn't retract,* Jubilee thought, sucking on her pricked finger and grimaced. Flatly metallic, blood wasn't high on her list of things to eat. She spat it out and resisted the temptation to lose what little lunch she had in her stomach.

Gingerly she touched the back of his hand and ran her fingers up and down his forearm. Minutes into the massage, Jubilee wasn't sure this was going to work. She also was glad he was out of it: her feelings were beginning to translate through her fingers. A slight snikt interrupted her musings, at last, as his muscles retracted the claws into sheathes housed within his forearms. *Finally, now for the other side¡¦ The blood, it's flowing faster!*

Blessed adrenaline gave her a second wind, flooding Jubilee with strength. She hurried to retract the other side cursing for not thinking straight when she had packed. She hadn't thought to bring a first aid kit, and so now scoured the shelter. Relief ran through her like wild fire. There, under a smashed table, lay Wolverine's backpack. It had fallen open, knocked over during their brief tussle. Fishing wire and hooks, a canteen, and other useful items littered the floor, including Logan's comm-unit.

*****

"Ouch!" Grumbling loudly, Jubilee poked her already wounded finger for the third time and hoped his healing factor would kick in soon. "Wolvie, yer gonna be mad if this fishing gut leaves a scar," she muttered under her breath and paffed the next fishhook to sterilize it.

After completing the last stitch she held both sets of knuckles in her palms. Eyes shut she struggled to filter out all external stimuli and tapped into the finest control of her powers. With slow, precise detonations, Jubilee in effect cauterized the wounds.

As an afterthought Jubilee checked the rest of his body for any wounds. She shredded the cleanest part of the blanket she'd brought, wrapped his hands and used the rest to mop sweat from his face and neck.

Lighting flashed outside, followed by a crash of thunder. Rain beat down in great torrents on the granite roof of the cave. Steadily she could hear the wind's speed increase until it was howling much like the sleeping man next to her use to. A draft blew in. Even with her slicker she was cold.

From under the cot, Jubilee retrieved Logan's blanket and shook it out, tucking him in as best she could. Suddenly her strength snapped. *Damn adrenaline rushes, they never last long,* she thought, but had to do one last thing. She lay down next to Logan, her back to him, and tapped the comm-unit now strapped to her wrist. Beast's voice replaced the faint hum of an established connection.

"Oh my stars and garters. Jubilee, is everything all right? Did you find Logan? Where are you? When are you coming home? Well, why don't you say something...?"

"She will if you let her," Jubilee heard Scott in the background, and groaned inwardly. *I'm gonna kill ya, Blue* he promised to herself. Out loud, Jubilee answered each question in turn.

"Yes everything's okay, yes I found him...he's very sick, I don't want to say, and we'll be home when a) this storm passes and b) he's well enough to move on his own...do you know how much he weighs?" Her voice grew softer as blackness started to close in on her.

"Look guys, I promise to call every day, and I'll even fill in the details when we get home. Right now, I want to sleep." She didn't wait for an answer, just shut off the comm-unit. Lulled by his warmth and the storm raging outside, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Part Two

(Utendi)

Drip... drip... drip...

He heard the sound in the back of his head. It seemed to echo in a dull rhythm, as slow and precise as the throb in his head. He hadn't had a headache in a long time... at least not one that had lasted beyond a few dizzy moments, and usually only after some serious, direct impact to his skull. Logan couldn't remember getting hit by anything, although he did have some vague and fuzzy recollection of his body hitting the floor. That had been some crazy dream...

Sharp needles of pain stabbed into his eyes. He snapped them shut. *Okay, that wasn't a good sign* he thought and cautiously cracked his eyelids. He opened them in stages, allowing his eyes to get used to the light.

Once his body became more responsive, he became aware of his hands; they hurt, but considerably less than his head. Wolverine dragged them out from underneath his head, surprised to feel that they were wrapped. Eyes still bleary from the light, he tried to focus on the where the wrappings were tied. His bit at the small knot resting against each wrist and unwound the strange material. Bright pink, fresh scars marked the places where his claws had sliced into visibility. *Funny... they shouldn't have left marks. What is going on??*

There was movement, beside him. Logan started. Instinctively cautious he rolled towards the cave wall, pushed to a crouching position and turned to face his unknown nemesis. He was ready for anything but received the biggest surprise of all.

*What the hell is Jubilee doing here?*

She had fallen asleep against him, her small body just barely fitting on the remainder of his cot. Now, she shivered miserably as the warmth of his body was removed. Logan relaxed and eased off his cot, careful not to wake her.

Confusion and guilt warred in his brain. Logan bent over her, placed the blanket around her body and stepped back. For a few minutes, he watched her breathe, heartened by how beautiful a sleeping woman looked; Child! He tried to convince himself, cutting short that chain of thought. Concern and something else joined the war in his head. His headache grew exponentially.

Flashes of the previous night's events peeked out from behind his fevered haze like the spires of skyscrapers behind a city fog. He padded towards the cave's mouth at a shambling pace, blinking to clear his vision and mind. Like pieces of popcorn for a Christmas Tree, Logan tried to string the images together. He needed to make sense of all this.

There was the long hike through the woods, last night, when it had begun to rain... and he remembered being somewhat grateful for the coolness of it on his back and shoulders, even when it had begun to soak through the red-check flannel of his shirt.

He'd grown tired and cold at one point, however, and had decided to retreat to this cave, where he'd occasionally hermited himself, in times past. From the moment he'd actually stepped into the cave, however, it was all a mystery.

It must have been late morning, but the sky visible beyond the cave's mouth was a slushy gray, and the barbs of pine trees seemed to stand like grim black sentinels under the torrent of mid-Autumn rains. He flared his nostrils, sniffing deeply for clues, but was greeted by another surprise: his nose was too stuffed to smell anything.

Pawing at his nose with the knuckles of one hand, growling, Logan was suddenly forced to stop, blinking thickly against the sudden onslaught of an unpleasant tickling sensation. He wrenched forward, leaned against the cave wall and gave a single, thunderous sneeze.

The sound carried impressively, eliciting another irritated growl from him as he went back to rubbing at his nose. *Whoever was trying to play this sick joke on him was going to pay for it.*

Jubilee flinched, jerked into full awareness by a loud noise. Her heart pounded hard for a handful of beats. "Holy cow-that was you?" The blanket slid to a pile in her lap as she sat up. Looking like a chick freshly hatched from the egg, she palmed at her eyes, then blinked them wide open. It hadn't exactly been the best night's sleep. "I thought it was thunder."

"I think the appropriate response is 'bless you', darlin'," he smirked and edged back towards her. Their bed was a mess. *What am I thinking!?! Must be the fever* he tried to convince himself again. "Didn't mean t'wake you."

"I'm just glad you're awake. How are you feeling? How's your hands? Come here a sec, lemme feel your head." Warily the man knelt, allowing Jubilee to first inspect the backs of his hands, and then to slide her palm across his forehead. Her cool, soft fingers seemed to lessen the fever.

He studied her intently, blue eyes following her every move. A grin tugged at his mouth. Obviously concerned for his well being, she bit her lip just a little, her pale forehead furrowed up in anxious wrinkles. Cute was all he could think.

Suddenly she flung her arms about his muscled neck and squeezed with the ferocity of one much bigger and stronger than herself. She buried her face into his neck, breathing deeply to control the tears that threatened to fall.

"I was so worried, Wolvie! You weren't even yourself! And your hands-"

As always, Logan gently crushed her slim body against him in return. "Don't fret, pun'kin," he rumbled in a dismissive reply. As he comforted her Logan could not, for the life of him, imagine what had frightened her so. Jubilation had all but outgrown her teenage bouts of complete and dramatic over-exaggeration, so this must have been something fairly serious.

His broad hands splayed at her ribcage, gently holding her away from him as he scrunched his own fuzzy brows in consternation. "Why don't you start by tellin' me exactly what in hell is going on."

She rocked back heavily onto her rump. Her eyes became wide, illustrating the importance of her recount of yesterday's events. "Hank was reviewing the readings from the Danger Room's records on your last training session. It detected something wrong with your immune system-- you weren't healing up right, not in the least bit like yourself. To add to an already grave situation, you'd started to come down with something. We didn't have any idea where you were, and Hank said that if we didn't find you soon, it looked like you'd be on your own, and sick. So... I went out to find you."

"And you found me," he completed, awkwardly shifting his position before her. "Except I think Blue is half a fry short of a Happy Meal, this time, darlin'¡¦I'm right as rain." He lied.

Jubilee transformed, reverting to her more youthful defiance, a force to be reckoned with. "No you're not! Wolvie, you were completely out of it last night. I'll even bet you've still got the fever. I'm telling you, we need to get you well again before you can get back."

Undaunted he stood his ground. He had dug his heels in enough times with her before, going head-to-head with her more times than he could count. He recognized her body language. Blue eyes turned steel in an extremely stern expression, hands-on-hips, and the set of her jaw. Determined to win, he leaned in towards her and held her eyes with his. Nearly nose to nose he felt his jaw and brow harden and growled low in his throat.

"I said I'm fine, little girl, and I meant it. And I ain't takin' no guff from you on the matter either, because..." Logan stopped. "Because?"

Jubilation pressed to him until her forehead was flush against his. She could feel his frown wrinkles and the simmering heat of his fever. Logan sniffed once, blinked twice, and tried again for the third time."...Because..."

"Yeah?" she insisted, widening her eyes. She expected his usual, hard-as-adamantium half-logic to slap her upside the face. Instead his sudden, leaning retreat surprised her into almost falling off the cot. He also lost his balance, but was saved from complete disgrace by leaning his weight back onto one hand; the other lifted towards his face.

"Uh... Wolvie?"

His muscled body wrenched in a series of powerful sneezes, eyes cinched into gathered wrinkles each time. After a somewhat startled grunt he relaxed. ...That hadn't helped his argument any.

(Tyna)

"Mm¡¦hmm¡¦" was her reply and finished his sentence for him. "¡¦because I'm impossibly stubborn and wouldn't know when I need help even when I'm 'inna world o' hurt' " Jubilee snaked off the cot in a huff. She retrieved the Kleenex box from her backpack and tucked it under her arm.

Logan didn't lose gracefully and gave her his best baleful glare when she handed him the box. Sounding much like a foghorn, Logan tried to clear his nose. Grey spots appeared before his eyes and the room swam. "Darlin'¡¦ I don't feel so good," he admitted and leaned against her legs, unable to sit up any longer.

"Now you notice," she teased gently and stroked her fingers through his hair to comfort him. With what little help he could give, she moved Logan back up to his cot. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

Jubilee shook her head. Asleep and sick, Logan still commanded the utmost awe. For a long time she had dismissed her feelings for him, chalking them up to puppy love or foolish teenage infatuation. After college, Jubilee wanted to believe she had been right, but couldn't convince her heart. It had already given itself to him. Jubilee sighed and resigned herself to the fact that she really loved him, always had.

"Always will, no matter what," she whispered and bent to pull his blanket up to his chest. Although reluctant to leave his side, Jubilee set about cleaning the cave.

The table was a complete loss, good for only firewood. 'Assess your resources'. Scott's favorite saying ran through her mind as she unceremoniously dumped the contents of both backpacks on the floor.

Most of her stockpile of food fit in the makeshift cupboard nestled in the back of the cave. She had been surprised by it at first but remembered that this was one of Logan's places. Neither of them had thought to bring extra clothes. She put her ear against the canteen and smiled when she heard liquid sloshing around. Good, she thought, the canteen was still full.

Time passed. Jubilee had managed to clear the floor and set up stones in a circle for a fire. She paffed a few pieces of wood to get it starting. Outside the weather went from bad to worse. Huge clouds hung in thick layers. Thunder sounded in the distance, announcing yet another storm.

The cave felt like an icebox. Too much warmth was escaping through the cave's entrance. Jubilee pulled her slicker off and placed it as best she could over the gaping hole. Logan's soft moans echoed against the walls. Jubilee ran back afraid that, in his sleep, he might pop his claws. Relief filled her stomach like ice water as he settled into a deeper sleep.

"Jubilee, come in. Jubilee¡¦are you there?" Hank's voice sounded softly from her comm-unit.

"Hank, I thought I told you¡¦"

"Hush now child," he interrupted her. "Did you remember to give him the antibiotic?"

Aghast at her lack of memory, Jubilee fingered the small pack on her belt. "No"

"I thought so. Listen to me Jubilee! It is very important that you give him three of those a day. Don't forget¡¦ Oh¡¦hi my one eye friend¡¦"

Jubilee sat on the edge of the cot, pulling her knees up so she could rest while she listened to a very interesting conversation.

*****

"Hank what in blazes are you doing?" Scott had never seen the blue doctor blush before, nor could he remember when McCoy was at loss for words.

(Utendi)

"Scott, I¡¦" Quickly, Dr. McCoy clasped both hands behind his back to hide a certain comm-unit he wasn't supposed to be using. "I¡¦was simply¡¦ running an experiment upon the transmission of sound waves in inclement, ah¡¦"

"You were interfering with Jubilee and Wolverine, after you promised them you wouldn't."

Hank slowly brought his furred hand before him again, opening his fingers guiltily to reveal the little comm-unit, still flashing delicately in his enormous palm. Scott continued to stand at perfect attention, arms folded across the breadth of his chest, wearing his famous Mild Frown of Disapproval.

Perhaps¡¦ a little¡¦" he confessed, then carefully set the unit aside, under his superior's continued, watchful eye. The other X-Man reached out to gather it into his possession, pacing away and studying it in the muted lights of the medical bay evidently unaware that McCoy had left it on.

"I know that you're concerned, Hank," Scott began, broad back turned to the doctor. "We all are. This is the first time I can ever remember Logan being sick with anything, and we'd prefer to have him under more competent care, but until the storm lets up there's nothing that we can do."

Miles away, within the cave, Jubilee listened, slack-jawed, to the conversation in progress. *More competent care?* she thought, fuming. *Oh. My. God. Let a few little goldfish die when you're thirteen, and they never let you forget about it.* Rather than interrupting, however, she only tucked her knees up against her chest, and listened that much more intently.

McCoy, padding up behind Scott, reached a nervous hand towards his shoulder.

"Uhr¡¦Scott¡¦there's something you should probably know- "

Cyclops turned towards the blue doctor again, expression stern. "Now listen. We'll get them both back as soon as possible. But until such time as that happens, let's at least respect Jubilation's wish to be left alone. We'll deal with the repercussions of it afterwards."

McCoy's clawed finger gestured a little more urgently towards the comm-link.

"Not to interrupt, my friend, but, ah¡¦"

"What is it, Hank?"

"The unit is still on."

On her end, with her cheek rested in one palm, Jubilee heard a lengthy and presumably guilty silence. Then Scott's voice, inquiring unsure "¡¦Jubilation?"

Sorry, Scott," she replied through the link. "I didn't quite catch that last part. I must have been listening incompetently."

"What I meant, was-"

"Jubilee out." She thumbed the unit off, sighing through her nose as she set it into the loose skin of her now-empty backpack. Only then, when she certain that it was no longer transmitting, did she feel confident enough to scoff a quiet, "¡¦Guy wouldn't know medical competence if it came up and bit him in the-"

"Assumin' you're talking to Cyclops, darlin', and not me," came Logan's voice, croaking and low, but laced with a healthy dose of amusement. Jubilee started, turning back towards the cot, and felt a sudden welling of relief to see her favorite X-Man awake and partially upright, palming at the grizzled, sandpapery stubble of his lower face.

"Wolvie, you're up¡¦you weren't down too long¡¦"

"Can't sleep anymore," he grunted, and although the urge to sit up was strong, he wasn't quite ready for so ambitious a move. He didn't protest, however, as Jubilation settled her slight weight upon the cot beside him, and began guiding him down again. There was an awkward moment between them as he tried to recline, then allowed her to move him, settling his head in her lap.

He contemplated a heavy silence as he adjusted to the feel of this, weighed the propriety of it, and then decided he was simply too ill to protest. ¡¦Even if he'd wanted to.

Her slender fingers combed back through the coarse, damp hair that grew in bristling points back from his cruel widow's peak. The touch felt cool against his scalp, further relaxing him to the moment, and the posture she'd urged him into. All right, maybe this wasn't so bad.

"Just rest, then," Jubilee encouraged softly, reaching for the blanket again to draw it over his bare back. "Hank gave me some antibiotics to give you¡¦ you really should take them, you know?"

"Later," was the grunt, delivered in muffled form against her leg. How could she keep pulling that blanket up over him, he was frying¡¦

"Wolvie-"

"Later, I said," was the reprimand, though this time he briefly picked his head up, turning away from her to deliver another, tremendous sneeze off to one side. With a gutteral groan Logan again relaxed his head to her lap, snuffling miserably. "Cripes, I hate bein' sick."

The young woman's voice floated down over him as his eyes again closed, and he concentrated on baking out whatever sickness had decided to plague him.

"I know, Wolvie¡¦ but your immune system is bound to kick in soon. And as soon as this storm breaks, we can get you back to the mansion, and get you fixed up right. Okay¡¦? Wolverine?"

But the man was in a feverish haze again, drifting vaguely on a low tide of strange dreams. He could hear her, and still felt the easy touch of her hands as they combed through his hair, and down the bristled back of his neck, but his other senses seemed suddenly too sharp, almost painful. He couldn't smell worth a damn and the noises surrounding them were loud enough to hurt¡¦ Could this possibly get any worse?

Part Three

(Utendi)

The comlink in Jubilee's pack crackled discreetly in the background, and amidst the other soft noises within the cave there came an additional voice, curious. "¡¦Petit?"

(Tyna)

Gambit waited patiently, but had to stay alert. If anyone found him in the basement doing this, he'd be dog meat for sure. A rustling sound, a growl, and someone coughing drew him back from his thoughts.

"Okay Gumbo you have about thirty seconds to explain why you are calling." Jubilee couldn't keep the irritation from her voice. She thumped Logan's back to ease his coughing fit and waited for the Cajun's reply.

" 'S nut'ing petit. Gambit jus' wan' you to know he thin's you doin' th'right t'ing. "

Jubilee expected another attack on her competence not a rousing approval. Her blistering comment went the way of the wind. Caught unawares, she tried to come up with an appropriate response and was suddenly jarred off the cot by alternating series of coughing and sneezing.

"You under 'ttack petit?"

"Inna manner of speaking, yes."

Gambit heard her stamping gait and winced as a pot was slammed in the midst of a muttering stream of dire promises. At first he though she was speaking to him, but realized he wasn't the target of her present ire.

"¡¦Of all the thick headed¡¦don't look at me in that tone of voice¡¦no you listen to me¡¦will take this even¡¦shove it down¡¦miserable throat" Gambit stifled a chuckle and strained to hear more.

Jubilee handed Logan a cup of water and a small pill, daring him with her eyes to fight her on this. The comm-unit lay forgotten in her other hand as she watched him struggle to swallow it down. She resumed her perch on the cot, anger already giving way to concern, and guided his head back into her lap. A few short breaths later Logan was snoring quietly.

"Dat's de way to show him, petit"

Jubilee stared dumbly at her hand. It was talking to her. "Oh Gambit¡¦sorry¡¦completely forgot you were there."

(Utendi)

She heard the Cajun give a long, slow sigh on the opposite end of the connection.

"I hear 'dat just th' other day from Rogue. An' here I am, t'inking maybe I'm losing my touch."

In spite of her dwindling anger, Jubilee gave a slight grin to his comment, and shook her head. All right¡¦ so it was a little reassuring to hear a voice from home. Should she bother asking Gambit for some advice?

Then again¡¦ what did he know about taking care of someone who was under the weather? Besides, if Logan ever found out she'd gone prodding 'The Cajun' for nursing tips, there would be no end to the bitching.

"Listen, Gumbo, I really appreciate your vote of confidence, but the thing is-"

"Gambit can take a 'int, petit, non regret. But before he go, one question¡¦"

"Fire away¡¦"

"Jus' how you figure Logan is gettin' sick to begin wit', mm?" It was the very question that had been niggling at her all night. Crimping the corners of her mouth into a troubled little frown, Jubilee reached down, once again touching Wolverine's sideburns, trailing the dark growth where it blended from his hairline, down along the still-clenched angle of his jaw. Even in sleep he was frowning, though turned unconsciously to nose against her thigh. Shivers, like something out of a fevered dream, raced the length of her spine.

"Petit?" his voice, now quizzical.

Realizing she hadn't answered yet, the young woman was forced to confess, "I don't have any idea. I was hoping that, while we were gone, Hank could maybe knock a few ideas around. Maybe you could sort of¡¦ ask around for me, Remy¡¦"

"I do my best, chere-you jus' take care o' your friend, neh? Wit'out him, who else Gambit going to taunt until he cries like a little fille¡¦"

Around a smirk, Jubilee managed to get out, "I'll tell him you said that when he wakes up." Gambit began to reply, but the connection was suddenly disturbed by the sound of the cajun catching his breath, and releasing an evidently unexpected sneeze. The noise gave her definite pause, and she found herself squinting at the comm.

"Gambit?"

"¡¦Excusez, petit. Don' know where dat come from."

"Uhr¡¦ Gambit¡¦ how are you feel-"

"Au revoir, now."

And he was gone, just like that-leaving her alone in the snoring silence with Logan, fitting a new piece into the puzzle. Gambit couldn't be sick, could he? Well, could he? Except did that mean that he'd given it to Logan, or the other way around, or¡¦ or had they both gotten it from some completely different source. And why wasn't she sick?

She wracked her brain, trying to think of anything out of the ordinary that she might have noticed, in the previous days, but it was impossible. With so many people at every turn within the mansion, who thought to keep a look out for random sniffles?

Perhaps it was time to task Rogue to keep a closer eye on the Cajun, as well. Logan shifted slightly, crushing his cheek against her lap before again going quiet, draping an arm over her legs. The slumber of the feral¡¦

(Tyna)

*No, not a beast, just a very sick man* she reprimanded herself. Too many people accused him of being that and Jubilee wasn't going to add herself to the list. Taking care of a sick Logan reminded her of the first time she'd met him. Their situation had been similar. Isolated, cut off from the rest of the X-Men, hiding.

The storm continued to rage for two days straight. Nearly everyone in the team had "checked in", except for Rogue. When she got back the mansion, Jubilee was going to have a long talk with them about keeping promises.

Logan still fought her about the pills but she'd sneak them into his soup. They melted nicely. Besides, his nose was so stuffed that everything tasted bland. He hated being spoon-fed. It lacked a certain dignity but when his head throbbed from sitting up a little, he gave up complaining entirely and allowed Jubilee to take care of him.

"What no, 'Darlin' if you shove that spoon in my mouth one more time I'm gonna bust your ass'? Jubilee asked grinning ear to ear. After the last spoonful, Jubilee set the bowl down to rub her palm across Logan's forehead. A slight frown of concentration furrowed her brows, *he still has fever* she thought as she moved her hand away, and nearly jumped out of her hide when he caught her hand to replace it back on his cheek.

Confused, Jubilee stared into Logan's eyes, searching for answers. Everything came to a standstill. Background noises faded into oblivion. In a moment of weakness she put what she felt into her eyes: love, admiration, total devotion, regret, despair, longing. Every emotion she'd ever felt for, with or about him flooded her eyes with tears. Quietly they slipped down her cheeks.

A surge of pain ripped through his heart that had nothing to do with his sickness. In that moment he regretted his stubbornness, his blindness to her feelings as well as his own. She meant so much to him. His eyes glittered behind a curtain of tears. "Jubilee," He stopped as her fingers laid gently against his lips, then brushed his tears away.

"Later!" she pleaded and buried her face in his chest, "Just get well, okay?" the last coming out as a sob. He let her cry herself to sleep; it was all he could do. Cuddling her close, he pillowed her head with his shoulder. Stray strands of her shoulder length hair fell across his face, tickling his nose. Manfully he held back the sneeze, which popped his ears.

Sound abruptly returned. The wind no longer howled, just whispered, but the rain still beat with relentless fury. Parts of the cave's ceiling were leaking, drops forming small pools in depressions in the floor. Each drop seemed like a bomb exploding. Under it all he heard a faint buzzing. The comm-unit on Jubilee's wrist flashed just under Logan's chin.

"Hai sugah. It's Rogue. Come in Jubes. Ah think ah know, at least, who made Logan's sick."

"Kept it down, darlin', she's asleep," he rasped and heard Rouge's sharp intake of breath. Several seconds passed in static. "Rogue?"

"Look mistah! If'n ya don' git yer miserable butt back in that bed, yer gonna be sorrier'n a momma dog on weanin' day!" was Logan's answer. "Rogue?" was the only word he could get in edgewise.

"Sorry Logan, but Remy is prob'ly a tougha customah than ya'll. He's is sicker'n mah cousin afta smokin' one o' Daddy's cigars." One long explanation and several threats later Logan shut off the comm-unit.

"So it seems the Cajun had the bug and gave it to me. Great! Now I know whom to thrash when we get home," Logan whispered into Jubilee's hair, knuckling his eyes.

As slow as sunrise, a thought drifted into his fever-weakened brain. Elated Logan quickly pulled back his fist so he could focus in on the knuckles. They were healed, completely, scars now just swatches of pink, new skin. *It's about flamin' time* he thought and tried to calculate when his healing factor would kick this stupid flu. One more good sleep should do it, he hoped.

Part Four

(Tyna)

The silence was so loud it dragged Jubilee out of her deep sleep. Unwilling to open her eyes, Jubilee snuggled further into Logan and tried to regain that blissful state of unconsciousness to no avail.

"Okay, okay, I'm up," she muttered blinking sleep from her eyes. Inches from her nose, the muscles in Logan's powerful chest danced as she watched it rise and fall with his even breathing. Further up, his pulse beat in steady in his neck, like a life unto itself.

She found herself effectively trapped in his harms, almost like a teddy bear. He was warm but not uncomfortably hot. It took a few seconds for her slip an arm out to check his forehead. No fever, she smiled, then grimaced when his breath blew her hair back into her face. *He's even breathing out of his nose* "Now we can go home," she whispered sadness coloring her tone.

Last night's astonishing admissions on both their parts chased away the remaining haze of sleep. She briefly wondered what they were going to do but realized that there wasn't anything to do something about. Did she imagine the look in his eye or was it just wishful thinking? When he said her name, was he going to follow it with 'ya know I love ya, but not that way'? If not what else was there to say? If he had those kinds of feelings for her, would he allow himself to act on them?

Too many ifs too many questions. Jubilee shut her eyes tight against the onslaught. With much wiggling she de-tangled herself from Logan's embrace and stumbled towards the cave's mouth. She needed some air to clear her tumultuous mind. Mud, damp leaves, and water-logged branches lined the sides of her slicker and covered the floor of the entrance. She peeled it back to reveal more mud and junk nearly covering the mouth. Only a hand spans' width was left unencumbered.

Jubilee screamed inwardly. She tore into the mud, digging intensely, not caring when mud covered every inch of her clothing. It served a purpose as she took her frustrations out on the mud.

Logan became increasingly aware that something was different. He swam out of his dreams and awoke to an empty cot. Again his blanket had tangled itself around his ankles, but he didn't remember needing it. The now vacant spot next to him held her warmth. Her scent permeated the rough canvas and clung to his sweat slicked skin.

His senses seemed to be on overdrive with a familiar intensity. He hadn't realized how much he'd missed it. For the first time in days he felt "normal". "Jubilee," he called quietly. When she didn't answer, he called again. "Jubilee?"

A feral growl was his answer. He opened his eyes in time to register the patch of mud just before it hit his face.

(Utendi)

Slick and cold it slithered down his face, catching in the bristles of his stubble, caressing a path down the bob of his adam's apple. With an answering growl, he backhanded it from his skin. Rising, he ducked from the cave's mouth and into the full wrath of the storm, letting it lash at him fearlessly. The earth was so soft underfoot and seemed unwilling to release him as he stalked forward, hands gathering into fists at his sides.

"Jubilee!" he yelled a third time, demanding now, moving with all the power of a bull gathering for the charge. Even through the gray sheeting f the rain he could smell her: defiance, emotion, and an anguish that, suddenly, seemed so very unlike her. Rain and Jubilee; it filled his head.

There was a flash of her up ahead, trudging rather than running, finding herself just as stuck in the boggy depths of the forest floor and unable to move with her usual lithe grace. The flash of her yellow slicker was he single bright spot, and the thing upon which his eyes to focus, narrow as a hawk above a mouse. Grinding his teeth, blinking against the rivulets of rain that slicked his face, Logan took after her, doubling his efforts to reach her before she could get too far.

She heard him behind her, or perhaps sensed his presence in the uncanny way of all soul companions. "Leave me alone, Logan, please," she groaned out, trying to move faster, ignoring the protesting ache of her legs.

"Are ya' mad, girl? What's the matter with you!"

"Let me go, please!" She stopped, turning sharply, and the blue of her eyes in that moment came as a reeling shock to him: luminous, pleading, and alive within the emotional portrait of her face. His lips relaxed around his teeth, brow furrowing all the harder.

"You ain't goin' anywhere, except back to that cave. Did you get what I have-what are you thinkin'?"

She groaned, buckling to her knees in the mud, clutching at her temples with still-gloved hands. Earth smeared itself across her pale forehead.

"I'm fine¡¦ everything is fine¡¦ please, you can't fix it this time, Logan-"

"Fix what?" he roared, lurched forward, and grabbed her by the upper arms and trying to haul her upright again. For the first time, Jubilation fought him, thrashing like a young wildcat, her scream of protest strangled by a sob.

Insistently he thrust her backward, pinning her fiercely against the rough bark of a pine, holding her up by the strength of his arms and bowing his rain-beaten face near to hers. In and out his breath roared in short, ragged gasps, teeth clenched, as he battled with himself between emotion and animal instinct. "Tell me," he growled at her, furious and pleading.

Her voice, when it finally cut like a thin blade through the dull rumble of thunder, was the mournful cry of a mother wolf caught in a snare. It was hopelessness and despair, desire and agony. It was everything she was feeling¡¦ Everything, Logan realized in an awful epiphany, that she was feeling for him.

She did not have to say it, but she did, turning her face up and meeting his eyes, blue-to-brown, through the assault of the storm. "Logan¡¦ I'm in love with you¡¦"

And for the second time, the world stood still. As if his ears had clogged again Logan heard only the swishing thunder of his own heart, separating each moment from the next.

¡¦Beat¡¦

Her face angled up towards him, having lost the naivete and innocence of her girlhood.

¡¦Beat¡¦

Their breathing rising and falling in ragged unison.

¡¦Beat¡¦

The storm lashed against them like an angry child in the throes of a tantrum.

¡¦Beat¡¦

His hands, large and callused, releasing her arms and letting her slump back against the pine. Cupping her delicate face, then, thumbs streaking the mud away from her cheeks, letting tears run clearly from those very blue eyes. He saw her lashes draw softly shut, and two words form upon her lips, swallowed up by the sounds of the storm all around them: I'm sorry.

And then, something altogether new, gathering from the depths of him like the fury which, moments before, had taken possession of him. This, gentler but no less passionate, bends him near to her again, until his mouth crushes awkwardly against Jubilee's own, and they are suddenly kissing, gripping fiercely to one another in the rain.

¡¦Beat¡¦

The taste of her, salty with tears, diluted by rain¡¦

¡¦Beat¡¦

The soft, malleable warmth of her smaller mouth, just as he might have imagined it, if he had not been crowding her out of his head for the past two years. If only he had given in, as he gave in now to the awakening between them.

Parting with a wet click that was lost to the storm, Logan slivered open his eyes, feeling oddly renewed by the sight of her relaxed expression before him: lips still delicately parted, eyes closed, black hair slick against her face, now washed clean of mud. Reopening her eyes, revealing again the unearthly blue of them, Jubilee found new words to mouth in storm-beaten silence.

"Logan," she repeated, this time without anguish. "¡¦I love you¡¦" ¡¦and held her breath, hoping.

*****

(Tyna)

"Ssskkkrrrrrreeeeeeeeraakkittttzz," was all he could get from his comm-unit. Sam Guthrie, a.k.a. Cannonball sat alone in the darkened living room of the Westchester mansion. He had been mopping around for days while Mother Nature took her frustrations out on the world. Sleep continued to elude him and his growing concern for his absent teammates didn't help any.

"Ah give up. All Ah'm getting' is storm interference." Unearthing himself from the couch, Sam paced the room absently rubbing at the small scar across his stomach. He stopped short in front of the large picture window that allowed a 180-degree view of the estate. Memories replayed over and over, taking him back to a time when his whole world changed. Back to when the scar on his stomach was the last he'd ever get.

By all rights, Cannonball should be dead. Years ago in a fight for the lives of his former teammates, Sam had been fatally wounded. He woke to find that he was alive and going to live forever. It was, needless to say, mind-blowing. Sam's eyes roved over the gray-cast lands trying to come to peace with his haywire thoughts.

Out of nowhere hot fire dripped down his chest like acid and settled on his scar. Frantically he looked down, only to find nothing there. As suddenly as it started, the pain disappeared. Sam blinked, unable to hazard a guess as to what was going on. He smoothed his hand over the firm muscles and quickly snatched his hand away. The scar began to pulse, hot and painful but not bleeding.

"What inna hairy heck?" Sam stumbled down the hallway leading to Medlab. The pain was becoming increasingly hard to ignore. Then, like a fresh breeze through a window long closed, he remembered the last time he'd felt this 'pain without injury' sensation. It was a warning or perhaps an announcement that another External was being born.

Clutching his stomach, Sam ran the remaining distance to Medlab. A name sliced through his mind. He reeled, crashing heavily into the threshold. "Jubilee," he gasped and passed out. Jean caught him before he hit the ground. Her mental alarm drew everyone out of hiding. She telekinetically placed Sam on an exam table, cradling his face in her hands. Tilting her head slightly forward, Jean probed his unconscious mind.

Normally she didn't do this. Not invading someone's mind without their permission was one of her strictest rules. Circumstances had, however, changed. *Sam¡¦Wake up Sam. We need you right now. What about Jubilee¡¦*

******

Logan wasn't given the chance to say what his heart was telling him. Raw electricity cut a swath through the sky straight at the unsuspecting couple. With reflexes borne of countless hours of training Logan shoved Jubilee away from him and threw himself backward just before the blazing beam passed between them.

It struck the tree they had been standing under and charged the air with thick static, making it difficult to breathe. The base of the tree splintered, sounding much like a clap of thunder. Another resounding snap and it fell with sickening precision to the ground right onto Jubilee.

Her scream rose above the storm, shrill and pain ridden. A broken branch had saved her from the crushing full weight of tree but it had impaled her chest straight through her heart. Jubilee's eyes bugged and blood burst from her mouth. She clawed desperately at the branch her movements becoming slower, more sluggish, in time with her badly damaged heart. "Good bye Wolvie," she moaned, barely audible.

But he heard her, even over his grief stricken roar. Like a white-hot burning blade upon raw flesh he howled with ever fiber of his being. The sheer force burst every blood vessel in his eyes. He dashed tears and blood from his eyes in furious, impatient gestures and slipped into a berserker rage unlike anything he'd ever gone through.

This time he didn't fight it, he embraced it. The world, literally, turned red. Perception focused down to a narrow point. Six blades appeared from his hands as he struggled from the mud that sucked at his legs. Adrenaline pumped through his supremely muscled body, adding fuel to his rage. In no time he was by her side.

Blood scent hung in dense layers, surrounding him in an intoxicating cloud. There was so much blood. He bent down to sniff her chest, keen ears catching the very faint beat of her heart. Humanity swam back into control but only on the surface. The berserker remained underneath, waiting for an outlet.

*Alive, she's still alive* he thought and appraised the situation in a matter of seconds. Although not very large the tree's weight made it impossible for him to lift. The rain continued to fall in solid sheets, making the bark slippery and his footing unsure. Jubilee eyes were fading, her life spilling out onto the mud. Frustrated, he felt the berserker resurface clinging like a second skin.

His claws bit into the wood in frenzied slashes. Blood, tears and rain, constantly blurred his vision, but his continued to rage. The tree didn't stand a chance. With a final cut, he severed the broken branch at its base. Concern for Jubilee overrode and diffused his rage. He gathered her gently in his arms; the branch still embedded in her chest.

Jubilee stirred slightly and focused in on Logan's face. 'Don't cry' she mouthed, unable to speak. He gave her a wane smile, adjusting his grip on her body and wrapped his fingers around the branch. "I'm sorry darlin' but it has to come out," he said, tone devoid of any feeling. Any show of emotion would shatter him into a million pieces. At her very slight nod, his arm tensed, cording with effort, and ripped the branch from Jubilee's chest. She didn't have anything left in her to scream. Her body shuddered once, then went limp.

Logan fell apart. He clutched her still form to his chest, rocking back and forth, then bent over her to bury his face in her neck. Blood smeared across his face and chest but he didn't pay them any mind. Suddenly he lifted his face skyward allowing tears to flow freely. It started from his toes and built steadily in his chest, gathered force as it passed through his throat, and spilled out through teeth bared in a feral grimace. For miles around his keen echoed, ending with three heart-felt words, "I LOVE YOU¡¦"

******

"My God, what was that?" Jean floated in her teke-shield, protected from the rain. The rest of the team had fanned out to broaden their search pattern. They paused to get a bearing on that single call in the forest.

Sam clung to Hank's back and listened for a moment. His belly cramped in a single spasm that took his breath away. "We're close," he managed to squeeze out before the pain became overwhelming.

(Utendi)

Hank paused, heels sinking in the soft earth, waiting for the man to recompose himself. "Easy, my young friend... we'll find her."

"No," Jean interrupted, fingertips brushing her temples as she stared more urgently, more intently into the wooded darkness. "Something is... wrong..."

"Wrong how?" Cyclops breathed, the words misting in the chill air before a wind caught them up, and spirited them off. Gazing at Jean too long was like gazing into the center of the sun; he looked away from her, towards the convoy of X-Men slowly and patiently bringing up the rear, and he still saw phantoms images of her silhouette burned into his eyes.

"Wrong... like..." Her pale brow furrowed, and without waiting for the slogging sound of her companions' footfalls she glided ahead of them. "I don't know--Scott, we have to hurry."

"...Hurry," Sam agreed weakly, his head lolling limply against Beast's back. Consciousness abandoned him altogether.

Rogue hovered a few careful inches above the worst of the muddy mess underfoot, alternating her gaze between the black, toothy maw of the forest, and a very sodden Cajun keeping time at her side.

His coat was dark with rainwater, hair hanging across his brow in sharp, dripping spikes, and every so often she caught him strenuously stifling a sneeze against one hand, weak with fever. He looked up at her, the red-on-black of his eyes frightfully bright, and still bewitching in the drizzling darkness.

"Ah wish you would have stayed in bed like ah asked you, Cajun," she admonished, exasperated with him.

His rueful reply came after a short cough. "Me too, chere... but so long as petite is in trouble, Gambit is going to help."

The glow of the Phoenix ribbed in radiant rays through the trunks of pines up ahead, and although the X-Men could no longer see her, they followed her light like the pious in pilgrimage. The rain lashed at them, furious at their invasion of the night, until at last they came upon the full glow of Jean Gray as she hovered over their missing companions, missing no longer.

Visible beyond Jean's luminous presence was Logan's bowed back something pale and limp cradled in his arms, his body rocking very slightly back and forth. A slender forearm sagged lifelessly from his grasp, the fingers drooping in the mud, threaded by rivulets of bright red.

Rogue whispered, "My God..."

Sam cried out from his daze.

Thunder crashed.

In the terrible silence of its wake, as Jean lowered herself alongside Logan, Storm lifted her arms to ease the gale still assailing them from all sides.

"Logan... is she..." Jean whispered. He refused to answer, and gave no response to the touch that she placed upon his shoulder. Rocking, rocking, like he could return rhythm to the fragile heart of the broken girl. His eyes were open, still shocked with the agony of realization. In a silent semi-circle the others gathered around them: Rogue, Gambit, Storm, Jean, Scott, Beast, and Sam, all keeping confused and mournful vigil over the terrible tableaux, trying to make sense of it.

Frustrated, Scott stepped forward, reaching out to brush Jean's shoulder with his fingertips. He nearly recoiled at the sudden and unexpected surge of emotion from her... he could not remember a time when she had so clearly projected her anguish. Her eyes, when she finally did turn to him, were full of something awful and guilty; something she refused to give voice to.

"Jean," he murmured, leaning nearer to her. "...What happened here..."

"It's Jubilee..."

He looked, then, watching Logan rocking in grim silence before recognition hit him. There was a flash of black hair, a gleam of bright yellow against the red and brown of the bloodied Earth. Jesus, it really was her...

When the silence of the others persisted, when Logan gave no acknowledgement to their presence, and when the thunder again rolled menacingly overhead, he made a difficult decision for all of them.

"¡¦Let's take her home¡¦"