A/N:

I was watching X-men evolution about two hours ago. You know, it really just pissed me off because, well... Jubes wasn't there. And she's almost never there. But then, in the end, they showed her. Not as a main character, but just as the backdrop, as usal and as always. So, I wrote this cause I was mad.

Please enjoy. Oh, and I don't own these characters, so.. don't like.. sue me... kay?

Oh, and review please.


I'm always here in the background. Even though I'm not part of the complete story or the complete heroic deed, I'm always here to see it. Behind the fighting lines or even drawn between them, I'm not a noticeable figure.

I think people think that being in the background is good. If you're not in the spotlight no one will really bother you. No one would care enough to hurt you, but I've seen and been hurt. From my experience, being in the background is the worst thing that could happen to someone.

In the background you experience every emotion and every disaster and no one notices. You can feel the emotion drip off your teammates and yet, they don't recognize that you're in the hardest place possible.

Sometimes, I hear stories. Stories they think I've never heard. But I've heard them, hell; I was there to witness the whole thing. They conveniently leave out the fact that I was the one who ripped off the monster gripping their head or their arm. They forget that I was always the one thrown backward from the force of the monster, relishing in bruises later. They always forget that it wasn't just the spotlight characters, but so many of us here in the background.

And what do we get for it? We always are in the same place except for the few of the lucky ones. We don't get that hand of comfort the spotlights get, all we get is a gratified glance as we wipe the sweat off another teammate that is too weak to do it.

We're the ones that sit next to the spotlights when they're on their deathbed. We sit there and read to them, we sing to them, we change their bandages when no one else can. We lose sleep to make sure they live through one more night. We give them mouth to mouth when they can't make it anymore, and when that doesn't work we pound on their chest until the respond. When nothing works, we cry over our losses, we feel for the spotlight.

Do you think it's funny? Do you think that when we care for the people that forget us is funny? I always used to think so. I mean, they're the people that brush us aside after a mission. They are the people that don't think we hurt on our side, the side that's further away.

Now? I just think it's sad.

We put so much work in making sure that they stayed alive, we didn't realize one thing. If we died, who would be at our bed? Who would cry over our cold body? Who would read to us, who would sing our favorite songs, who would change our bloody bandages when we couldn't?

You know I've wiped everyone's face on this team; when they were crying in the bathroom or in even in their own room. I didn't care if I was closer to one or closer to another. It didn't matter to me. I would creep up into their room and watch them from the doorway, knowing they knew I was there.

Go away Jubilee, they would say. But, guess what. I never did.

I always had my towel with me and I would bring something according to the person. Hank, he was easy. Bring a couple of Twinkies and a funny joke and he would be all right. Wolverine was a little harder, especially when he was going away for a while. But, even after a while, I knew what he always wanted. I brought the towel, and just a hug. Because even though we were often not held, we knew how to hold the others.

Jean. Now there was an easy person. Every time I wiped her face or comforted her, I wore one of my brightest outfits. In her grief she would tell me straight out that my outfit was one of the ugliest things she ever saw and I should change it right away. Never mind the fact that I saved it just for her and wore it only in front of her grieving self. But, really, nothing gave Jean more comfort than her telling someone something and him or her actually doing it. That was my way of healing her, of making sure she would be okay.

Scott was easy too, but they really all became easy after a couple of times. And I was happy, even though I was hiding inside of myself. If I could comfort everyone else so easily, how come I couldn't help myself? Sometimes, I wouldn't even wipe away the blood that clung to my skin, but they never noticed. I never even soaked my bruises and if I had a broken arm, leg, wrist it didn't matter. Because they were the spotlights and I was the backdrop. It used to be my responsibility.

But then, I went away. Sure, I went to a new team, but I didn't bring my towel and I didn't bring along my knowledge of the team. Even so, I was still captured.

And guess what.

I'm a background character, so no one even knew I was gone until I escaped and he found me. Through out the years, I comforted the X-men when I was in dire need for a holding hand myself. And yet, I was tortured for them, for information on them. Was I going to tell that mad man what I knew? How could I? I didn't know anything except that Hank needed his Twinkies or that Jean was a woman that told people what they did and didn't do. I knew that Wolverine needed his hugs and Scott needed a suck up once and again, I knew the Prof. needed a tub of large ice cream and cartoon movies. But where would that get me?

I knew the X-men, but it got me nowhere.

When I got home this past summer, not by choice, mind you. I was in the spotlight for once. Wolverine was by my bed every minute, along with Paige and Jean. They read poems, or my favorite books (not that I had many). They sung to me and they changed my bloody bandages, and once they pounded on my chest and begged me not to go.

But, that was summer. And now it's fall. My towel is still at the bottom of my dresser and it still is doing its job. With me in the background, barely speaking.

I'm their dazzling backdrop, and it sucks.