Logs: Bobby, Angelo and Scott; Bobby and Jean

[x-coldhands.livejournal.com]

Friday afternoon before the log with Kitty, Bobby and Angelo are discussing sneaking out of the mansion to run into town, and are overheard by Scott. Bobby gets in trouble for being an idiot yet again, and is ordered off to the medlab.


"...We'll just pop out, grab the stuff and come back. It'll take, what, 20 minutes?" Bobby argued as he and Angelo walked down the hall. "Nobody'll even miss us."

Angelo eyed him dubiously. "With Lee workin' security? Wouldn't be so sure of that..."

Bobby sighed. "If we try to go through him, we'll have to tell him why. And I somehow don't think he'll see it as quite as urgent as I do. Plus, we'd have to find someone else," he added, feeling frustrated. He didn't want to break the rules, but didn't see what choice he had.

"What if we find someone else an' don't tell them what it's for? They could wait in the car while we go in. Or somethin'."

"Look, it's not like we can't handle ourselves. It's one thing for the students to be taking off alone--but we're smart enough to run the other way if we see...her." Bobby's throat tried to choke off the last word. It still hurt to think that Lorna could really be doing the things they were saying. But there was little question, anymore. Now the only question was why.

Unfortunately, their course down the hall took them past the door to the classroom where Scott had just finished holding his advanced engineering course. Books tucked under his arm, he was just reaching the doorway when he heard them arguing, and his eyebrows hit his hairline.

"I beg. Your. Pardon."

Angelo froze in mid-step and shot Bobby a vaguely vindicated look.

Bobby jumped and turned slowly to face Scott. "Oh....hey," he said weakly, and swallowed. "Uh...been there long?" Busted. They were so very busted.

"Long enough to hear the two of you planning the great escape," Scott said dourly, not all that impressed. Bobby was an X-Man, and Angelo was technically an employee, and neither of them was up to taking on Lorna if they ran into her. And they knew that.

Yup. Busted. "It's not...we were just gonna...I just need to pick something up at the store," Bobby stammered weakly, wilting under Scott's 'NOT acceptable' face.

Scott raised an eyebrow. "At... the store," he said, some of his aggravation fading in the face of a growing and rather amusing suspicion. "Is there some reason it couldn't be delivered? Is it condoms? Is that the problem?"

Delivery. Oh, for...Bobby hadn't even thought of that. But the condom thing was a good cover, so he gave Scott a somewhat sheepish grin in response.

Scott raised an eyebrow, not entirely convinced. Bobby had looked, just for a second, like someone seizing gratefully on an offered out. "Was it?" Scott asked, eyebrow still raised. "Because I'm still not terribly impressed that you'd go running off in the middle of a security lockdown because you didn't think about delivery and didn't think to ask someone else if you could borrow the... uh, necessary supplies."

Okay, outright lying to Scott was something Bobby wasn't comfortable with. He shook his head slightly and mumbled "Something like that." It was in the same part of the store, at least. But all in all, in retrospect it had been a supremely stupid plan. "Sorry."

"Something like that?"

Bobby shot Angelo a quick look, praying that the other boy might have a bright idea, because he was coming up dry.

Angelo returned the glance and shrugged very, very slightly. He couldn't think of anything to say that wasn't the truth, right now.

Shit, shit shit shit... If he told him what, he'd have to tell him why, and if he told him why, he risked being ordered down to medlab--and getting taken off of active status, which he could not bear, not now. Not with Lorna still out there, and Forge. "Scott, I'm sorry," he tried repeating. "It was a stupid idea, and I'm glad you caught us before I tried it. It won't happen again."

Scott stared at him for a long moment. "In," he finally said, pointing to the door behind him. "Angelo, you too." Angelo had sounded as if he was trying to talk Bobby out of it, but Scott wasn't about to give up a possible source of information out of misplaced mercy.

Bobby sighed heavily and trudged into the room, avoiding looking at Scott. He sat on one of the desks inside, hands clasped on his lap and waited for the axe to drop.

Angelo followed, reluctantly, and perched on the next desk over.

Scott closed the door behind him. "Now," he said levelly, "what is this all about?"

Bobby stared at the floor, not saying anything. He wasn't sure what to say.

"Angelo?" Scott said, turning to the other young man.

Angelo looked uncomfortable and muttered, "It was stuff Bobby needed."

"Need?" Scott folded his arms across his chest. "Needed badly enough to be wanting to sneak off... and yet, it's not something the medlab can provide?" It was a stab in the dark.

This really wasn't fair to Angelo. He hadn't wanted to do it in the first place, and had been trying to talk Bobby out of it. Besides, it was obvious that Scott wasn't going to let them get out of a full confession. "I didn't want to go to them," he mumbled. "Look. Angelo didn't have anything to do with it. He was trying to stop me. Let him off the hook." He gave Scott a pleading look.

"Go to 'them'?" Scott asked, mystified by the phrasing. He started to go on, then hesitated, looking at Angelo. "Did you want to leave?" he asked, a bit less harshly than he might have.

Angelo fidgeted. He didn't like the cross-examination, but... "I'll wait 'til Bobby can go", he said quietly. "If y'want me to, Bobby."

Bobby shot Angelo a quick smile. "Thanks, man...but you don't have to stick around. I'm the one that screwed up."

"Would someone just please tell me what's going on and why you felt like you needed to be furtive about it?" Scott asked, still baffled.

Angelo smiled back, fleetingly... and didn't move.

Bobby gave Angelo a grateful nod and took a deep breath. Hey, maybe he'd overestimated Scott's reaction, anyway. He might not care that Bobby wanted to stay alert even though he's not getting enough sleep. "I wanted to get some caffeine pills," he confessed. "I--haven't been sleeping well."

Scott reminded himself that smacking himself in the head was not going to help. "Caffeine pills. Because you haven't been sleeping well? What the hell?"

"It's a long story, but I didn't want to go to the docs, because I want to help." Bobby gave Scott an intent look, almost but not quite challenging. "I wanna help find her, and I can't do that if I'm half-asleep."

Scott stared at him. Blankly. "Bobby," he finally said, very calmly and evenly, "You've heard the story about last fall, yes? My sleep deprivation and stress and the drugged coffee? Do you really want to go there?"

Bobby'd forgotten about that. His mouth worked for a second, then he blurted out, "Then you should understand! I'm not gonna do it forever, Scott...just for now, while I'm needed!"

"Which is exactly," Scott said patiently, "what I said, at the time. That I'd rest when I had the chance."

Bobby sighed and looked away. "So you understand," he said quietly, hoping that at least Scott might be more lenient on him, if he sympathized. "I know there's some stuff I need to deal with...but it's not as important as finding her, Scott."

Scott closed his eyes. "No," he said calmly, "I don't understand. Just because I did something stupid doesn't mean that I empathize when you follow in my footsteps." He opened his eyes again, regarding Bobby levelly. "I'll expect to hear from one of the doctors by tomorrow morning that you've seen them about the problem, or you're off active status until you do."

Fuck. "Yes, sir," Bobby mumbled, staring at the floor. Why did nothing ever go according to plan?

"He will", Angelo spoke up. "He promised me he would after, anyway. Guess it just got moved up."

"Good." Scott picked his books back up, then eyed the two of them for a moment longer before shaking his head. "Let's not have a repeat of this, all right?"

Bobby nodded, eyes fixed on the floor. "Won't happen again," he whispered.

Friday evening, after some Terry searching, Bobby reports to the medlab as ordered. Jean checks him over and starts to lecture--and then stops as she gets a glimpse at the source of Bobby's problems this week. (warning--reference to noncon.)


Bobby hadn't been able to find Terry after speaking to Kitty, so he decided to move onto another less than thrilling obligation. He sighed and made his way down to the medlab reluctantly, trying desperately to think of a reason to put it off a bit longer. But inactive status was hanging over his head, so he bit the bullet and headed down the final flight of stairs.

Jean was not quite glaring at the clock. Scott had, of course, told her about his conversation with Bobby and Jean was monumentally unimpressed. From what Scott had said, Bobby had to see one of them by tomorrow morning, and her shift was ending awfully soon. Either he knew she was the one on duty and was avoiding her, which, now that she thought about it, he had been doing for a while, or he was just putting it off, but either way unimpressed didn't even begin to cover it.

Bobby stopped and took a deep breath, bracing himself for lectures, and pushed his way into the medlab. It didn't matter which doctor was on shift, this wasn't going to be fun. He was actually somewhat relieved to see Jean. "Hey, doc," he said with a ghost of a smile. "Robert Drake reporting as ordered." There was no way she hadn't heard from Scott by now. No point in pretending there was.

"Hello, Bobby," Jean said, stifling the urge to start with the lecture. At volume. "On the table." Being curt with him was actually the better option, although it might not seem like it to him.

Bobby sighed and hopped up onto the table. Yep, this was going well. He wanted to protest that he was okay, he could handle a few days with little sleep, it's what people his age do, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, for once.

Of course, that method worked less well if the other person was a telepath. And one of the interesting side effects of sleep deprivation was a slowness of thought which made them so easy to pick up on. But, again, there were things that had to come before the lecture. "Arm," she said, pulling out the blood pressure cuff. Overdosing on caffeine had some very specific and easy to trace physical results.

Bobby extended his arm obediently, feeling exhausted and groggy. That was the down side of running on Vivarin for three days--when you stopped taking it, you crashed. Hard. Got any coffee? he thought to himself and had to bite his lip to keep from bursting out in inappropriate and tiredly giddy laughter. Of course there was coffee down here--there always was. This was all very hypocritical, if he thought about it. Which he wouldn't be doing if he was coherent enough to realize he might as well be broadcasting every word to Jean through a bullhorn.

Grinding her teeth was acceptable. Over pumping the cuff was not and she had to release the pressure and start again, focusing past her annoyance and the brief flash of pain as the cuff squeezed harder than it was supposed to. And yes, his blood pressure was higher than normal, but not into the dangerous range. Removing the cuff she pulled out her light and held it before him. "Follow the light."

Bobby flinched at the bright light and did his best to track it with his eyes.

Pupil dilation was slow, and his focus and tracking were not as good as they should be, but one or two good nights' sleep would fix that. Which was the really aggravating part. Such an easy fix and he was so damned reluctant to take it. And, with the light shining so brightly, the bags under his eyes were very apparent. She flipped the light off, sighing. "Shirt off, breathe in deeply," she said, tucking the beads of her decidedly unwarmed stethoscope into her ears.

Bobby tugged his shirt over his head, sucking in a sharp breath as the cold metal touched his skin. He dropped his own internal temperature to match it without even thinking, removing the uncomfortably cold sensation as he took a deep breath.

His heartbeat was steady, mostly, but too fast. At least his lungs sounded clear and he wasn't having any real trouble breathing. Jean continued the through examination, her instructions curt but not actually unkind, and it wasn't that long before she was done. Stepping back, she sighed, not quite scowling at Bobby. "Well, on the plus side, you haven't hurt yourself as much as you could have," she said.

"It's just caffeine," Bobby mumbled, knowing there was no point in arguing. The doctors seemed to drink plenty without any real problems, and Lorna--he cut that train of thought off abruptly, his stomach flipping over. Not thinking about her.

Folding her arms in front of her, Jean managed to keep from actually glaring at him. "Yes, it's caffeine, an addictive substance, poisonous in quantity. It makes you shaky, jumpy, and increases your heart rate and blood pressure. Combined with sleep deprivation, which lowers cognitive functions, makes you groggy and deadens your reactions. Tell me where the 'just' comes in."

"You drink coffee," Bobby shot back, looking a bit sulky. "I don't see everyone freaking out at you."

Sulking. He was sulking. Children. "When I was drinking coffee to overdose and not sleeping, you'd better believe they were freaking out at me. Madelyn was perfectly willing to sedate me to get me to sleep and after I passed out in the medlab I was put on a course of sleeping pills. Try again."

Bobby sighed and rolled his eyes. "Whatever," he muttered. "Just lecture me and give me my walking papers, please?" There was no point in arguing when he knew deep down he'd done the wrong thing. And it had been a long day, and a long week, and where the hell was his girlfriend now?

"You guys get so bent out of shape over being treated like children, but then you turn around and act like a disgruntled four year old when you can't get your way." That was possibly much shriller than she'd meant it to be. But he was acting like a four year old. "Lowered cognitive functions, deadened reactions combined with jumpiness. This is good for an X-Man how?"

And let the lecture begin. Bobby shrugged. "I screwed up," he replied simply.

"Yes, you did. And you know it now, and you knew it then. And there's a remarkable lack of contrition about it. Why, Bobby?"

Bobby swallowed and looked at Jean. "I did it for Lorna," he replied quietly. "I was afraid I'd be benched, and I have to help find her and get her back here, safe."

That puzzled her. On her own, Jean couldn't see the logic behind the thought, and without going looking, which she wouldn't do, she couldn't find it in his mind. "What would have gotten you benched? Overdosing on caffeine pills, sure, that'd do it, but before... Why did you start doing this?"

Bobby closed his eyes, not wanting to talk about it, but before he could stop it, an image rose in his head, a scene from his newly-returned nightmares. Himself, bound, gagged, drugged, naked...and bent over a dirty metal table, and the sound of someone behind him, laughing...the soft metallic clink of a belt buckle.

He sighed and pressed his hand to his mouth, mumbling, "Sorry." There was no way Jean hadn't caught that image, in technicolor and surround sound.

And this was what he felt he had to apologize for. Jean swallowed thickly, wanting to reach out and physically reassure him but unwilling to bring her mind any closer to those memories. "No," she said, "we wouldn't bench you for that, and we won't. I'm giving you sleeping pills. They'll help with the nightmares. And you will see Charles." That was non-negotiable.

Bobby nodded, unable to meet her eyes after sharing that image with her. "I'll go see him on Monday," he promised.

"We need you healthy, Bobby. We need everyone at the top of their game, and part of that means taking care of yourself." Jean's voice was soft, her earlier anger gone.

A wave of guilt and remorse washed over Bobby's tired brain. He hadn't meant to make things worse, it was just..."I know," he whispered. "I just have to be a part of this, Jean. I have to help get her back and okay and...and Lorna again."

"I know," Jean said as his guilt washed over her. "And Charles will understand that, too." of that, Jean had no question. If he was in any shape to deal with the work, it would be better for him to do it, and Charles would see that.

Bobby nodded, knowing it was true. He'd panicked, that was all. And acted very immaturely. And pretty irrationally, too. "Can I get those pills, now? I gotta..." Worry over Terry flickered through him, and he sighed. "Gotta go find someone."

Jean nodded. "Of course. Hold on a sec," she said, disappearing into the back for a few minutes. When she came back out she handed him a small bottle. "One before bed. If you wake up you can take a second four hours after the first. Don't take more than three in a day. Come back if they don't work or you notice any side effects. You know the drill."

Bobby nodded and pocketed the bottle. "Check. Can I put my shirt back on now?"

That got him a smile. "Of course."

Bobby returned the smile with a faint one of his own and tugged the shirt on, hopping down from the table. "...Sorry you had to see that," he reiterated, hands in his pockets.

Sorry didn't even cover how she felt that he'd had to go through it. But when words failed Jean could simply project her concern and worry and love.

Bobby smiled and nodded a silent thanks for the emotion, feeling a lump in his throat. He lifted his hand in a quick wave and headed back out of the medlab, ready to give the mansion another circuit and see if he could track his girlfriend down.