DISCLAIMER: Nope, not mine. Never were, never will be. One word for this:
damn.
SUMMARY: This is a sequel to "THE HUNGER" by Parodys.... Jubes is still in love w/ Wolvie, and finds herself saddled with another prob that involves morning sickness. (You'd think I had better things to do with my time at four ack emma. I hate insomnia!)
*I step into the Rec Room, not really caring anymore if he's there or not. That's a lie, of course, but I'd never admit to that. By the way, Jubes, in case you haven't noticed, he's got his back to you, playing pool. But he still knows you're here—he probably smelled your perfume about ten feet away. It's that animal sensory sensitivity in him. Damn, but he looks good in those jeans. And what a fine butt...
Whoa, girl, back to reality here. He hates your guts, remember? Just find the Professor, tell him the low-down, and get the hell outta here. Now, where IS he? Ah, there he is, by the TV. The news is on... hmmmm, gotta feel sorry for any poor guy who gets stuck with their face beaming into the homes of billions of people that way. It's really gotta suck for your social life. Ha! As if I would know... what kind of social life have I bothered with for a very, VERY long time? Huh, not long—just enough to find the kind of help I need. One more hour, and this'll all be in the past. Damn, that hurts.*
"Professor?"
"Yes, Jubilee?"
"I've just got a call from a very good friend of mine. She's really sick and needs my help. She's, well... it doesn't look good. I'm leaving for the airport in just a few minutes. I just wanted to come down and explain to you, so you wouldn't worry, and to say goodbye." *He understands... gods, what a great man. Too bad he and Moira couldn't work things out... I'm gonna miss this place, and it's people.*
"I understand, Jubilee. Just be sure to keep in touch, and take your com badge with you at all times." *I have to smile sheepishly at that one. A wave of dizziness hits me, and it's all I can do to act normally. Thank God he thinks that my distress is just from a good friend that's sick... which really isn't ALL that far from the truth.*
"Thanks, Professor. Tell everyone I said goodbye, and that I love them." *Nothing out of place there, eh Professor X? I always say that when I go on trips. I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Logan still has his back to me, but its ram-rod straight. I can tell that just me being there is killing him. It's killing me, too. Then I have to leave, because I'm afraid I'm gonna cry. And right now, tears are a luxury I can't afford. They won't be for a very, very long time.*
Jubilee threw her last duffel bag into the backseat of her convertible. She'd saved and saved for the car, and celebrated buying it by going clubbing with Sarah. By then she'd been old enough to drink, so there were no awkward moments, just a rush of pure I-did-it joy. Now, it stood silent and waiting. It was the final piece of the old her that she could take with her on this journey; a journey into nowhere.
She straightened and turned around; taking in the mansion she'd called home since she was thirteen. Gods, but that seemed like a long time ago. She'd just been a kid then, naïve and reckless; with a crush on everyone, it seemed, but the Professor. He'd been the father she'd been missing all of her life, and she clung to that relationship like lifeline. *The mansion is beautiful at night,* she thought with a sad calmness. She saw which windows had lights in them, which ones had them off. There was a flickering glow from Scott and Jean's room—probably candle light. Harsh beams streamed from Gambit's open window; the lights in both Rogue's and her rooms were off. A flickering blue haze told her that Hank had his aquarium lights on, and he was probably still in the laboratory. She could see them all in her mind's eye; what each and every one of them was doing at precisely this moment.
A light came on in Wolverine's room. She tilted her head, staring at it. The shades were up and the curtains weren't drawn. She could just barely see the top of his head as he went first to his closet, then throwing himself on his bed. Her heart contracted with a sudden, excruciating force. The memories all came rushing back, unbidden—trying to force her into blackness: Logan's fingertips on her skin; Logan's hands on her breasts, his hands on her body; Logan's mouth on hers, then moving lower; Logan's hard, muscled body grinding against hers.... a fulfillment... a mistake... a whisper... a shout. A scream—her scream—and his voice raised in anguish... his fist raised in betrayal... a sharp, hideous pain in her head as it made contact with first his bedpost, then his wall. And tears—lots of tears.... tears that never truly went away; they just dried up... until all she could do was wail silently whenever she thought of him...
Jubilee blinked, and spun quickly on her heel, reeling but determined. Swiftly, she pulled open the driver's side door and climbed inside her car before she could faint. Gunning the engine furiously, she sped with a squeal of tires down the driveway, Xavier's Institute a dwindling sight in the review mirrors. The night was silent as she streaked by, forcing time to wait until she could cry again; trying to outdistance the pain she felt permeating her entire being.
She never saw Wolverine watching her from his window. His hand was pressed against the glass, fingers spread as in farewell. His face was tired, wondering, hurt.
He was crying.
Jubilee sped into the night. She turned up the music, turned it down, turned it off, then brought it back on again. The rest of the world was silent; the country roads she took invited solace and care at the same time. Silent, dark, and completely open; somewhat deserted, but that was to be expected—and wanted, in this case. They provided her with the opportunity to speed up a little more than she would dare on the highways and expressways. They would get her where she needed to go, getting her to the interstates and eventually to her best gal-pal Sarah. *Baby, I need you,* she thought quietly, *And I'm on my way back to help you out as well. What a pair we make! Hell, with me at your side and you at mine, ain't nothing gonna stop us—not even you're sickness. And Moira... we'll help Moira too. And it'll be good to see Tori again... all of the old gang. Man, what a get-together this is going to be.*
She was trying to force her mind into a more positive attitude, and she knew it. She took a deep breath. Xavier's Institute was far behind her now—it was a part of her past she was going to have to hold onto at arm's length. What was important to her now could be used against her later, with very bad results. She would keep an eye on them; help them out when they seemed to need it... but...
*I'm never going back there.*
The confession knocked the wind out of her; the realization of it having been settled long ago, but the full impact was just hitting her now. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles white and fingers cold bordering on numb. She stiffened, and took deep breaths, trying to calm her sickened stomach.
She could always call, she knew. Tell them that her friend's illness had escalated far too much for her to come home. She knew she could do it. She had too... the signs were getting far too numerous and difficult to hide. When Rogue had finally caught her being sick in the morning two weeks ago, that had been the final straw. She knew then that she had to leave... and never look back.
She and Sarah and the others had been talking for quite some time. They were her other family—her non-X-men family—and they had taken care of her at all times. They knew exactly when she needed them, and had supported her decision to leave the X-men. She did feel guilty about it—hell, they ALL did-- but Jubilee knew that they would go berserk if they found out...
Oh, God, she really did need Sarah and the gang right now. She didn't know how she was going to make it without them.
Jubilee turned the red convertible into her pals' driveway, sliding expertly between Sarah's Mustang and Tori's red Toyota truck. Sarah's motorcycle was parked alongside her Thunderbird, both of which were behind Jubilee's BMW. The whole, huge parking lot was almost full, allowing spaces for visitors and people who were at work. Jubilee stepped out of her car, her vinyl trench coat swaying in the wind. She was here at last. For the first time in six hours, she felt a stirring of hope in her heart.
She retrieved a duffle bag and suitcase from the backseat, and stood facing the huge Victorian house in front of her. Gatewood House: it certainly wasn't as big as Xavier's mansion, but still—it was an enormous house, just not large enough to be a mansion. It still amazed her how many people it housed within its sturdy wooden walls. And despite its size, it still felt... like... like... *home.*
The structure stood before her with cream siding, dusky purple-brown railings, taupe molding, and pinky-brown trim. The wrap-around porch stood solemnly with a pale blue ceiling, four rocking chairs of various materials and sizes, three coffee tables, hanging plants, pine-green window boxes, large bay windows with the blinds up and burgundy velvet curtains parted, and a colossal dark wood-and-leaded-glass door. Nondescript, gorgeous, inviting, and thoroughly, utterly, home.
The impressive door was presently flung wide open in full force as Sarah streaked outside to greet Jubilee. Her brilliant red hair—what had escaped from her chigon—streamed out behind her like a banner, and she had a grin on her face wide enough to crack it. Jubilee smiled in return, and she was swept away by the comfort and reliability of her best friend. Sarah damn near knocked Jubilee off her feet when she hugged her, and the slamming door told them someone else was coming. A moment later, laughing and screaming "Ohmigod, she's here!" they were joined by Tori, who flung herself onto both of them. The three spun and laughed and rejoiced. Jubilee was finally home.
Inside, Moira came waddling in from the kitchen with a spoon in her hand and more hugs and kisses for the girls. She brushed wisps of brown curly hair from her face, streaking it with batter. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" Jubilee screeched before flinging her arms around Moira's expanding body. Laughter and celebration reigned in the air, making it thick with homecoming. *Comfort,* thought Jubilee wonderingly,* is a very nice thing. It is given so freely here—how unlike Xavier's this is because of that. Yes, this is what I needed; this is what I came for. I made the right choice... I did the right thing. I'm home.* And she let all her worries go, making them come alive in her heart as what needed to be said and done. She felt alive again, for the first time in weeks, and could no longer hold on to her bitterness. Her situation was not that bad.
"Hundreds—THOUSANDS—of women get pregnant every day, and wind up leaving the father," Sarah stated firmly when all three were talking in the solace of the bright kitchen. Moira mixed iced tea and lemonade, but coffee was also among the proffered drinks. Jubes sipped a dark tea, brewed to the point of blackness, while Sarah clinked ice in hers. She smiled at her over the rim of her glass.
"You're not just another statistic, babe," Sarah said dryly, "So don't beat yourself up over it. You're both gonna be fine, babe, trust me. We're in this together," she said, gesturing widely to sweep the whole house and neighborhood into the plot.
"And I don't think you made a mistake," Tori said half-defiantly, half-thoughtfully, "I think he did. In fact, I know he did. I just wish that you would consider calling him 'Charles' or 'Joshua' or something. Just not Logan... and Logan Junior at that!" She shook her auburn hair with resignation. Jubilee smiled and Sarah and Moira both laughed aloud.
"Logan is a good name," Moira said thoughtfully, dropping spoonfuls of chocolate-oatmeal batter onto wax paper, "A strong name. I like it."
"I like it too," said Jubilee softly, smiling down into her glass. Sarah smirked good-naturedly. "I'll BET you do!" she grinned.
"Hey!" Jubilee happily defended herself, "It's a good name!"
"And a good man," Moira put in insistently.
"Or a good dog," said Tori dryly.
"And some good sex!" Sarah stated emphatically and zealously. All three shrieked with laughter, trying not to spill their glasses and holding their sides with joy. Jubilee thought her sides would split if she laughed anymore. Tears came to her eyes.
Sarah's laugh soon turned into a cough. It was a deep, hacking chest cough; she wheezed into a paper napkin she'd grabbed off the counter. She tried valiantly to get it under control. She smiled weakly when it subsided after a few moments, cautiously clearing her throat. "I'm fine," she said, sounding like her normal self, "Really," she reassured them. Moira continued to drop batter, "Alright, lass," she said resignedly. Tori shook her head, downed her glass, and set it on the counter.
"Alright," she said forcefully, taking hold of Jubilee's hand, "Let's get you settled in." Jubilee set her glass down, still half-full, and grabbed some of her luggage. Tori managed to grab the heftier stuff, and the two maneuvered up the winding back staircase to the third floor. Tori lead her down the hallway, and stopped half-way through. She turned to her left, and dropped her load unceremoniously to the floor. She dug out a skeleton key from the back pocket of her skin-tight jeans, and unlocked a massive dark wood door with a big brass handle and door-knocker. She gave it a good shove, and it creaked open protestingly. She stepped aside so Jubilee could enter, saying the light switch was to her left. Jubes flipped it on as Tori lugged the rest of her junk in behind her, barring the doorway to even the most determined visitor. "So," Tori said gustily, "This is your room," and she swept an arm out wide.
Jubilee raised her eyebrows, "Impressive," she stated. "Eyeah," Tori grunted, then heaved more luggage into the huge room, "There's plenty enough room in here for a nursery," she said warmly. Jubilee nodded, silent: she could just picture it too. "Well," Tori said with a sigh, "I guess I'll leave you to get unpacked. The boys'll be back in a half an hour, and so'll the rest of the gang. Ye'll be wanting to get freshened up, seein' as how unpacking won't take you too long." She grinned, "I'll be back up to check on you later." And she disappeared down around the doorframe, her footsteps sounding light and quick on the back spiral staircase.
Jubilee surveyed her special part of Gatewood House. It was big—monstrously huge—and had been partitioned into separate nooks to allow for a TV area, one large bedroom with a queen-sized bed, a smaller empty area, a dressing area with three large full-length mirrors, and the "foyer" area she had walked into. There were two large walk-in closets in the foyer, three sizable bookcases in the living room, and a spacious vanity/dresser combination in the bedroom. A large bay window overlooked the dressing area, and several smaller ones lit the rest of the "rooms". A small, oval window shed some light on the queen-sized bed, set into the slope of the roof. *I must be right overtop of the side porch,* she thought dazedly.
A rustling from the doorway alerted her that Sarah had come into the room that would now be hers. Jubilee brushed sudden tears from her face, unwilling to turn around. Sarah lay a tender, light hand on her shoulder, standing quietly and serenely beside her. A quick glance told her that Sarah had a mysterious, thoughtful smile playing on her full lips as she gazed at the room. "Thought you'd like it," she said softly, briefly hugging with one arm.
SUMMARY: This is a sequel to "THE HUNGER" by Parodys.... Jubes is still in love w/ Wolvie, and finds herself saddled with another prob that involves morning sickness. (You'd think I had better things to do with my time at four ack emma. I hate insomnia!)
*I step into the Rec Room, not really caring anymore if he's there or not. That's a lie, of course, but I'd never admit to that. By the way, Jubes, in case you haven't noticed, he's got his back to you, playing pool. But he still knows you're here—he probably smelled your perfume about ten feet away. It's that animal sensory sensitivity in him. Damn, but he looks good in those jeans. And what a fine butt...
Whoa, girl, back to reality here. He hates your guts, remember? Just find the Professor, tell him the low-down, and get the hell outta here. Now, where IS he? Ah, there he is, by the TV. The news is on... hmmmm, gotta feel sorry for any poor guy who gets stuck with their face beaming into the homes of billions of people that way. It's really gotta suck for your social life. Ha! As if I would know... what kind of social life have I bothered with for a very, VERY long time? Huh, not long—just enough to find the kind of help I need. One more hour, and this'll all be in the past. Damn, that hurts.*
"Professor?"
"Yes, Jubilee?"
"I've just got a call from a very good friend of mine. She's really sick and needs my help. She's, well... it doesn't look good. I'm leaving for the airport in just a few minutes. I just wanted to come down and explain to you, so you wouldn't worry, and to say goodbye." *He understands... gods, what a great man. Too bad he and Moira couldn't work things out... I'm gonna miss this place, and it's people.*
"I understand, Jubilee. Just be sure to keep in touch, and take your com badge with you at all times." *I have to smile sheepishly at that one. A wave of dizziness hits me, and it's all I can do to act normally. Thank God he thinks that my distress is just from a good friend that's sick... which really isn't ALL that far from the truth.*
"Thanks, Professor. Tell everyone I said goodbye, and that I love them." *Nothing out of place there, eh Professor X? I always say that when I go on trips. I give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Logan still has his back to me, but its ram-rod straight. I can tell that just me being there is killing him. It's killing me, too. Then I have to leave, because I'm afraid I'm gonna cry. And right now, tears are a luxury I can't afford. They won't be for a very, very long time.*
Jubilee threw her last duffel bag into the backseat of her convertible. She'd saved and saved for the car, and celebrated buying it by going clubbing with Sarah. By then she'd been old enough to drink, so there were no awkward moments, just a rush of pure I-did-it joy. Now, it stood silent and waiting. It was the final piece of the old her that she could take with her on this journey; a journey into nowhere.
She straightened and turned around; taking in the mansion she'd called home since she was thirteen. Gods, but that seemed like a long time ago. She'd just been a kid then, naïve and reckless; with a crush on everyone, it seemed, but the Professor. He'd been the father she'd been missing all of her life, and she clung to that relationship like lifeline. *The mansion is beautiful at night,* she thought with a sad calmness. She saw which windows had lights in them, which ones had them off. There was a flickering glow from Scott and Jean's room—probably candle light. Harsh beams streamed from Gambit's open window; the lights in both Rogue's and her rooms were off. A flickering blue haze told her that Hank had his aquarium lights on, and he was probably still in the laboratory. She could see them all in her mind's eye; what each and every one of them was doing at precisely this moment.
A light came on in Wolverine's room. She tilted her head, staring at it. The shades were up and the curtains weren't drawn. She could just barely see the top of his head as he went first to his closet, then throwing himself on his bed. Her heart contracted with a sudden, excruciating force. The memories all came rushing back, unbidden—trying to force her into blackness: Logan's fingertips on her skin; Logan's hands on her breasts, his hands on her body; Logan's mouth on hers, then moving lower; Logan's hard, muscled body grinding against hers.... a fulfillment... a mistake... a whisper... a shout. A scream—her scream—and his voice raised in anguish... his fist raised in betrayal... a sharp, hideous pain in her head as it made contact with first his bedpost, then his wall. And tears—lots of tears.... tears that never truly went away; they just dried up... until all she could do was wail silently whenever she thought of him...
Jubilee blinked, and spun quickly on her heel, reeling but determined. Swiftly, she pulled open the driver's side door and climbed inside her car before she could faint. Gunning the engine furiously, she sped with a squeal of tires down the driveway, Xavier's Institute a dwindling sight in the review mirrors. The night was silent as she streaked by, forcing time to wait until she could cry again; trying to outdistance the pain she felt permeating her entire being.
She never saw Wolverine watching her from his window. His hand was pressed against the glass, fingers spread as in farewell. His face was tired, wondering, hurt.
He was crying.
Jubilee sped into the night. She turned up the music, turned it down, turned it off, then brought it back on again. The rest of the world was silent; the country roads she took invited solace and care at the same time. Silent, dark, and completely open; somewhat deserted, but that was to be expected—and wanted, in this case. They provided her with the opportunity to speed up a little more than she would dare on the highways and expressways. They would get her where she needed to go, getting her to the interstates and eventually to her best gal-pal Sarah. *Baby, I need you,* she thought quietly, *And I'm on my way back to help you out as well. What a pair we make! Hell, with me at your side and you at mine, ain't nothing gonna stop us—not even you're sickness. And Moira... we'll help Moira too. And it'll be good to see Tori again... all of the old gang. Man, what a get-together this is going to be.*
She was trying to force her mind into a more positive attitude, and she knew it. She took a deep breath. Xavier's Institute was far behind her now—it was a part of her past she was going to have to hold onto at arm's length. What was important to her now could be used against her later, with very bad results. She would keep an eye on them; help them out when they seemed to need it... but...
*I'm never going back there.*
The confession knocked the wind out of her; the realization of it having been settled long ago, but the full impact was just hitting her now. She tightened her grip on the steering wheel, her knuckles white and fingers cold bordering on numb. She stiffened, and took deep breaths, trying to calm her sickened stomach.
She could always call, she knew. Tell them that her friend's illness had escalated far too much for her to come home. She knew she could do it. She had too... the signs were getting far too numerous and difficult to hide. When Rogue had finally caught her being sick in the morning two weeks ago, that had been the final straw. She knew then that she had to leave... and never look back.
She and Sarah and the others had been talking for quite some time. They were her other family—her non-X-men family—and they had taken care of her at all times. They knew exactly when she needed them, and had supported her decision to leave the X-men. She did feel guilty about it—hell, they ALL did-- but Jubilee knew that they would go berserk if they found out...
Oh, God, she really did need Sarah and the gang right now. She didn't know how she was going to make it without them.
Jubilee turned the red convertible into her pals' driveway, sliding expertly between Sarah's Mustang and Tori's red Toyota truck. Sarah's motorcycle was parked alongside her Thunderbird, both of which were behind Jubilee's BMW. The whole, huge parking lot was almost full, allowing spaces for visitors and people who were at work. Jubilee stepped out of her car, her vinyl trench coat swaying in the wind. She was here at last. For the first time in six hours, she felt a stirring of hope in her heart.
She retrieved a duffle bag and suitcase from the backseat, and stood facing the huge Victorian house in front of her. Gatewood House: it certainly wasn't as big as Xavier's mansion, but still—it was an enormous house, just not large enough to be a mansion. It still amazed her how many people it housed within its sturdy wooden walls. And despite its size, it still felt... like... like... *home.*
The structure stood before her with cream siding, dusky purple-brown railings, taupe molding, and pinky-brown trim. The wrap-around porch stood solemnly with a pale blue ceiling, four rocking chairs of various materials and sizes, three coffee tables, hanging plants, pine-green window boxes, large bay windows with the blinds up and burgundy velvet curtains parted, and a colossal dark wood-and-leaded-glass door. Nondescript, gorgeous, inviting, and thoroughly, utterly, home.
The impressive door was presently flung wide open in full force as Sarah streaked outside to greet Jubilee. Her brilliant red hair—what had escaped from her chigon—streamed out behind her like a banner, and she had a grin on her face wide enough to crack it. Jubilee smiled in return, and she was swept away by the comfort and reliability of her best friend. Sarah damn near knocked Jubilee off her feet when she hugged her, and the slamming door told them someone else was coming. A moment later, laughing and screaming "Ohmigod, she's here!" they were joined by Tori, who flung herself onto both of them. The three spun and laughed and rejoiced. Jubilee was finally home.
Inside, Moira came waddling in from the kitchen with a spoon in her hand and more hugs and kisses for the girls. She brushed wisps of brown curly hair from her face, streaking it with batter. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?" Jubilee screeched before flinging her arms around Moira's expanding body. Laughter and celebration reigned in the air, making it thick with homecoming. *Comfort,* thought Jubilee wonderingly,* is a very nice thing. It is given so freely here—how unlike Xavier's this is because of that. Yes, this is what I needed; this is what I came for. I made the right choice... I did the right thing. I'm home.* And she let all her worries go, making them come alive in her heart as what needed to be said and done. She felt alive again, for the first time in weeks, and could no longer hold on to her bitterness. Her situation was not that bad.
"Hundreds—THOUSANDS—of women get pregnant every day, and wind up leaving the father," Sarah stated firmly when all three were talking in the solace of the bright kitchen. Moira mixed iced tea and lemonade, but coffee was also among the proffered drinks. Jubes sipped a dark tea, brewed to the point of blackness, while Sarah clinked ice in hers. She smiled at her over the rim of her glass.
"You're not just another statistic, babe," Sarah said dryly, "So don't beat yourself up over it. You're both gonna be fine, babe, trust me. We're in this together," she said, gesturing widely to sweep the whole house and neighborhood into the plot.
"And I don't think you made a mistake," Tori said half-defiantly, half-thoughtfully, "I think he did. In fact, I know he did. I just wish that you would consider calling him 'Charles' or 'Joshua' or something. Just not Logan... and Logan Junior at that!" She shook her auburn hair with resignation. Jubilee smiled and Sarah and Moira both laughed aloud.
"Logan is a good name," Moira said thoughtfully, dropping spoonfuls of chocolate-oatmeal batter onto wax paper, "A strong name. I like it."
"I like it too," said Jubilee softly, smiling down into her glass. Sarah smirked good-naturedly. "I'll BET you do!" she grinned.
"Hey!" Jubilee happily defended herself, "It's a good name!"
"And a good man," Moira put in insistently.
"Or a good dog," said Tori dryly.
"And some good sex!" Sarah stated emphatically and zealously. All three shrieked with laughter, trying not to spill their glasses and holding their sides with joy. Jubilee thought her sides would split if she laughed anymore. Tears came to her eyes.
Sarah's laugh soon turned into a cough. It was a deep, hacking chest cough; she wheezed into a paper napkin she'd grabbed off the counter. She tried valiantly to get it under control. She smiled weakly when it subsided after a few moments, cautiously clearing her throat. "I'm fine," she said, sounding like her normal self, "Really," she reassured them. Moira continued to drop batter, "Alright, lass," she said resignedly. Tori shook her head, downed her glass, and set it on the counter.
"Alright," she said forcefully, taking hold of Jubilee's hand, "Let's get you settled in." Jubilee set her glass down, still half-full, and grabbed some of her luggage. Tori managed to grab the heftier stuff, and the two maneuvered up the winding back staircase to the third floor. Tori lead her down the hallway, and stopped half-way through. She turned to her left, and dropped her load unceremoniously to the floor. She dug out a skeleton key from the back pocket of her skin-tight jeans, and unlocked a massive dark wood door with a big brass handle and door-knocker. She gave it a good shove, and it creaked open protestingly. She stepped aside so Jubilee could enter, saying the light switch was to her left. Jubes flipped it on as Tori lugged the rest of her junk in behind her, barring the doorway to even the most determined visitor. "So," Tori said gustily, "This is your room," and she swept an arm out wide.
Jubilee raised her eyebrows, "Impressive," she stated. "Eyeah," Tori grunted, then heaved more luggage into the huge room, "There's plenty enough room in here for a nursery," she said warmly. Jubilee nodded, silent: she could just picture it too. "Well," Tori said with a sigh, "I guess I'll leave you to get unpacked. The boys'll be back in a half an hour, and so'll the rest of the gang. Ye'll be wanting to get freshened up, seein' as how unpacking won't take you too long." She grinned, "I'll be back up to check on you later." And she disappeared down around the doorframe, her footsteps sounding light and quick on the back spiral staircase.
Jubilee surveyed her special part of Gatewood House. It was big—monstrously huge—and had been partitioned into separate nooks to allow for a TV area, one large bedroom with a queen-sized bed, a smaller empty area, a dressing area with three large full-length mirrors, and the "foyer" area she had walked into. There were two large walk-in closets in the foyer, three sizable bookcases in the living room, and a spacious vanity/dresser combination in the bedroom. A large bay window overlooked the dressing area, and several smaller ones lit the rest of the "rooms". A small, oval window shed some light on the queen-sized bed, set into the slope of the roof. *I must be right overtop of the side porch,* she thought dazedly.
A rustling from the doorway alerted her that Sarah had come into the room that would now be hers. Jubilee brushed sudden tears from her face, unwilling to turn around. Sarah lay a tender, light hand on her shoulder, standing quietly and serenely beside her. A quick glance told her that Sarah had a mysterious, thoughtful smile playing on her full lips as she gazed at the room. "Thought you'd like it," she said softly, briefly hugging with one arm.