Disclaimer: The X-Men are the property of Marvel comics and are being used without permission. I am making no money from their use. All other characters are my own.
A/N: This is kind of a "What If" story. It takes place may years in the future. Logan and Jubilee are already lovers but they are not all that happy. Jubilee is of legal age from the very beginning. She iseighteen in the prologue thirty-one at the beginning of the first chapter. Wolvie is, by no means, a pedophile.
Prologue
"Dammit, Jubilee!" Logan roared, "I ain't goin' over this again." They were in his room, arguing loudly enough for the entire mansion to hear. They usually did not argue in the house but she had brought up a sore subject and he could not help himself. "Ya know how I feel about her so why in the hell did ya bring it up again?" He leapt from the bed and pulled on his worn jeans, zipping them quickly.
Jubilee sat up and watched him dress, her temper boiling. "She's married, Logan," she ground out, frustrated with him. "Why can't you get that through your damned thick metal skull?"
He turned to her, ready to shout at her again. The sheet had fallen, exposing her coral tipped breasts to his gaze and his mouth went dry. 'God, she's beautiful,' he told himself. He shook his head and relocated his gaze to her angry face.
"I know she's married," he said, wishing it could be different. "That don't change how I feel about her."
Jubilee flipped the sheet back and climbed out of the bed to stand before him. She ignored her nudity and faced him down. "We've been lovers for a month," she fumed. "Every time we make love, you're not really there. You're with Jean, making love to her. How do you think I feel? My lover, the love of my life, pretends that I'm someone else. Do you have any idea how degrading that is? Never once, in the entire time we've been sleeping together, have you made love to me - Jubilee, not Jean. I hate it." Her vision swam as the angry tears threatened to fall, yet she refused to cry in front of him.
"I'm leaving, Logan." she told him when she had regained control of her emotions. "I can't stand being used anymore."
She turned and grabbed her robe, shoving her arms roughly into the sleeves and walked to the door. "I'm sorry, Logan," she whispered. "I had hoped I could bring you some happiness but I was wrong. You don't want happiness. You like your misery."
He could smell tears. They weren't tears of anger, but ones of deep sadness and disappointment. He heard the door close with a click of finality and wanted to go after her; tell her she was wrong but he could not. Everything she accused him of was true and he could not face it.
He remembered when it started. She had slipped into his room the night of her eighteenth birthday and climbed into bed with him. That, in itself, was not unusual. She had terrible nightmares that sent her scurrying into his bed for comfort and safety. Even the dream he had that night was not any different than the previous erotic dreams he had been having since coming to the mansion. The only difference was that Jubilee was in his bed and available to ease the burning ache in his groin. He woke the next morning ashamed of his actions. She was his best friend and partner and too young for him. She had her entire life ahead of her and only God knew how old he was. She deserved better than an old, mentally fragile warrior who was in love with a married woman.
He tried to leave but Jubilee had shamed him into staying by asking if she was just one of his one night stands. He could not do that to her. She was a very important part of his life. A month passed and he found that they had started an affair that felt surprisingly comfortable to him. He knew she loved him. He had known that for several years. She never very good at hiding her emotions from him. He wanted to tell her he loved her too - but he could not. He loved Jean.
By late the next afternoon, she was packed and ready to leave. Scott tried desperately to get her to stay. She was a critical part of the team and losing her would bring them up short in many areas. She tried to explain to him why she was leaving but it was too new, too raw. She could not force the words out. He accepted her lame excuse with very poor grace and left her to load her car.
Logan watched her as she tucked boxes and bags into the small car, his mind restless. She was leaving him. He wanted to feel happy for her bid for freedom and maturity. He knew she felt used and wanted to find a life for herself but all he could think of was that she was leaving him.
"Yer really gonna do this?" he asked from his position near the open garage doors.
"I have to," she said, not looking at him.
He pushed himself away from the wall and came up behind her. "Will ya at least keep in touch with me?" he asked.
"No," she murmured. "I'll let Cyke know where I am but I think it's best if you stay away from me."
She was not angry with him, she did not hate him. He could tell that by her scent but she was grieving and melancholy. Every instinct told him to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he could not do that this time. This time, he was the cause of her pain and holding her would just make it worse.
She fitted the last bag into the trunk and closed it. Her red rimed eyes met his. She stepped into his arms and gave him a hard hug. "I'm going to miss you, Wolvie," she said into his shoulder.
A lump grew in his throat, nearly choking him as he saw the determination in her eyes. It was the first time she had called him 'Wolvie' since they started sleeping together. His arms came around her to hold her one last time, knowing it was over. "Take care of yerself, darlin'" he said, his voice rough. "I'll be here if ya need me."
"I'm sorry I couldn't be what you needed me to be," she said into his chest. "I just wanted you to be happy."
"And you leavin' me is gonna make me happy?" he asked thickly.
"I want me to be happy, too." she said. "I won't be if I stay here." She stepped away from him and looked him straight in the eye. "I hope you find what you're looking for, Wolvie."
He watched the retreating car as it went through the gates and turned onto Greymalkin Lane. The gates swung closed and the light went from red to green, indicating a positive lock. He stood in the garage watching the gate for hours, certain that she would turn around and come back. When the sun had started to shine in his eyes, he moved to the trees. Climbing the tree closest to the road, he resumed his watch.
"She'll come back," he muttered aloud. "She needs her Wolvie."
When he finally returned to the house, it was well past dark.
The blast slammed him into the closed door with such force that he nearly lost consciousness. When his vision cleared, Cyclops was standing over him, his face a mask of rage. "You son of a bitch!" he snarled. "You drove her away!" Scott's adamantium reinforced glove slammed into his temple and Logan felt a berserker rage growing as his anger rose to meet the threat.
Cyclops did not give him time to channel the rage. He continued to pummel the shorter man with fists and feet. A hard fist slammed into his gut and Logan felt something tear in his belly.
By the time Rogue and Jean were able to separate them, Logan's eyes were swollen shut and he could feel his liver trying to repair itself. A normal man would have died from the punishing blows. Logan would be in a great deal of pain for a day or two, but he would recover: He always did, much to his regret.
"Don't ever talk to me about her again!" Cyclops yelled, trying to escape Rogue's iron hold on him and get to the moaning feral. "I don't want to hear her name from your mouth for as long as I live or, so help me, Wolverine, I'll kill you!"
Logan laid on the floor in agony as the leader of the X-Men, followed by Rogue, stalked away from him in a boiling rage. Through his pain, Logan felt an overwhelming shame for how he had treated Jubilee and had their roles been reversed, he would have done the same thing Scott had done.
It was months before Scott would talk to him other than issuing orders in the field and when he did speak to him, the scents of anger and hate would roll off of him. The rest of the team made it clear that they blamed him for Jubilee's departure. Even Gambit could not bring himself to be cordial to him.
Logan could not blame them for their anger. He was angry with himself, too. For years, he made love to Jean in his dreams, doing to his dream Jean everything he had learned over the years about pleasuring a woman. Two nights after Jubilee left, the dream returned but now, the petite firecracker was the woman writhing under him. He never had another erotic dream about any other woman.
He left the mansion several months after she left, finally realizing that she was not going to fulfill his wish and come home. He wandered the world for years, all the while searching for her. Every time he saw a beautiful, young Asian woman, his heart would beat a little faster.
He thought he had found her once in Madripoor. The girl was a young, Chinese prostitute working a corner not far from his own establishment, The Princess Bar. He knew when he was close enough to smell her that she was not Jubilee but he invited her to his room anyway. It was a mistake. Not only did he develop a lump in his chest that made it difficult to breathe but he found that, for the first time in his life, he could not perform. She just was not the woman he wanted.
Then, the unthinkable happened: Jean was killed and this time, there was a body.
He sat in his room after Jean's funeral and thought about the beautiful telepath for several hours. He was surprised to find that he was saddened but not devastated by her death. He realized that if it had been Jubilee that died, he would have been inconsolable. The thought of living his life without her filled him with such panic that he felt light headed.
He spent hours looking at pictures of her, wishing she was with him. Every time something happened that would put Cyclops in a bad light, he would think, 'Jubes would have loved this'. His thoughts were consumed with her. He wanted her back with every fiber of his being, even if he never got her back into his bed. He needed her. He loved her.
He was sure she would return when Charles died. He had raced back from his cabin in Canada to attend the funeral, positive that she would be there. He searched the mansion all day, trying to find her but she had not come. Instead, she had sent a large floral arrangement and a note of condolences. It was a Charles' funeral that he found out that she had been in contact with the team all along, calling once a month just to tell them she was alive and not to worry about her. He decided to move back into the mansion in the hope that she would talk to him again.
It went on like that for years. She would call the mansion and talk with everyone except him. He found out a few years ago where she was and what she was doing but he did not go to her. He wanted to. His heart ached with wanting to go to her but he knew she needed to be the one to make the first move.
And suddenly, she had made it. After twelve years, Jubilee was coming home.