Dear Everett… Second Entry
By Didi
Disclaimer: No owning X-Men no matter how much I want to. Let's face, these disclaimers so unnecessary since no one in their right frame of mind would actually believe that someone that owned any of these characters would be sitting here writing a fan fiction.
Summary: Talking for a friend helps a lot of things.
Author's Note: Another snip bit on Jubilee. Obviously by the title, this is part 2 of the Dear Everett story. You can read this as a stand-alone or as a sequel, it doesn't really matter. I hadn't intended to do this one so it might be a little different from the first. Anyways… enjoy the show.
Rating: PG-13, definitely.
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She stood at the foot of the stairs, staring up at the remnants of the once elegant flight of steps that reached the second and third floor of the Xavier School for the Gifted. It now resembles a hazardous path to pain. Ditching her coat at on the splintered banisher, she eyed the pathway carefully. With a resolved sigh, she began an elaborate dance of picking her way up the stairs, avoiding the loose boards and broken glass the best she could. It wasn't the first time she's done this since Magneto went mad on them but she certainly hoped it would be the last.
On the third floor landing, she dropped to her knees and made her way across the maze of dangerous obstacles that had once been the residence hall of the current crop of X-Men. The support beams had been broken and hung so low that even she with her less than stellar height could not make her way through them standing. She ignored the splinters, glass and plastic pieces that cut into her half healed arms and legs; undoubtedly, she was going to hear about this from Drs. Hank McCoy or Cecelia Reyes later. And made her way to the room she had been sharing with Paige Guthrie since her return to the X-Men some months back.
The door had been shoved open just wide enough for her to get through without scratching her sides. She had done it two days ago when she came up exploring the decimated remains of the school while the others saw to the rescue mission in New York. The others had thought it was safer to send her away rather than have her underfoot and possibly getting into trouble. She hadn't mind really, she hadn't really wanted to see the great city in ruins. So she had come 'home' and cried herself to distraction.
Picking her way through the room, she sat down next to her overturn bed and pulled from beneath the fading tan and white cigar box, a memento with sentimental values worth its weight in gold. She dusted of the top with her fingertips and swallowed the lump in her throat and feverish thanked god that there hadn't been a fire this time.
A fire would have simply destroyed her. Along with every else left in her life that she cherished.
Lifting the lid of the box, she fingered some pieces in there that held a lot of memories that were good and bad. She didn't see herself as a sentimental person, most of the time she thought overly emotional moments were just plain horrible, but there were times where she couldn't help but want to retain something, anything, of moments she knew would be few and in between others. And she hated the fact that she knew without a doubt in her heart and mind that those memories would be the only thing that sustained her through the harder times to come… and there would always be harder times to come.
From the bottom of the pile, she pulled a plain leather journal out along with an overly expensive pen. Just holding the journal gave her comfort with memories that couldn't ever be again.
Opening to the last entry, she forced herself to review it as she usually did and prayed that the tears don't start as it did last time, forcing her to stop writing.
"Dear Everett,
"The world ended yesterday.
"Not with a bang like we thought it would; but with a cry and a plead.
"A cry of anguish that I don't think I shall ever want to hear again. It was as if someone had ripped out Wolvie's heart. And a plead that was so heart wrenching that I don't think I can ever forget. Scott's lost the greatest love of his life; even when he begged her not to go.
"Jean's gone.
"The Phoenix didn't rise again."
The next sentence had been completely blurred by tears and was undistinguishable. Not surprising really since she spent two hours after the journal entry crying her eyes out before crawling back out of this death trap she had once called home. She had stood on the steps of the school, stared back at the once elegant mansion and cried until she couldn't cry anymore. It was the only method of outlet she had.
She took a few deep breaths, forcing down the tightness in her chest and waited while her eyes stopped twitching before turning to a fresh page.
"Dear Ev," pausing a moment, she chewed on the end of the pen before adding, "And Angelo." It felt right for the first time since Angelo left her to face the world alone.
"Is Jean with you? Were you guys there today? Were you guys watching us from wherever it is that you are? And Ange, don't be laughing at the dress, I didn't have a lot of time to go shopping… or too many shops still left standing to go shopping in.
"I wore the ribbon again." She stopped, not quite sure why she had mentioned it. Reaching up, she pulled the long black silk ribbon that usually bound the cigar box next to her out of her hair. This was the third time she's worn the ribbon in two years, the first two times had been to the final resting places for the two guys she was addressing now. "I wouldn't know not to.
"As services goes, it was quite lovely. Lots of flowers, crisp white snow, even little blue birds that ventures out into the cold. Over all, a nice pretty picture for such a morbid event. Every girl in the place cried… well, except out dear Auntie Em. And all the guys pretended like they weren't. Wolvie didn't come; I didn't think he would or could. I haven't gone looking for him yet, but I probably will later, when I'm sure he won't gut the first thing that pops its head in his line of sight."
She gave herself a mental slap for even thinking of that but decided not to cross it out in her journal. After all, you have to be completely honest somewhere.
"Everyone is just kind of dead right now. Most of the others are scrambling around New York, trying to find survivors, helping with evacuation efforts and other things that are all important. Paige and Warren are spending mucho time together with the relief efforts… getting to be quite the cozy little item those two. Kind of sickening really. And Jono… well, our brooding hero is… not around; kind of disappeared a few weeks back. I'm not sure where he went to be completely honest, but I get the feeling that it's not somewhere I want to be… Wolvie said as much. Part of me is actually glad that he isn't around to see Warren and Paige; it would really hurt him because we all know that Shock-o-Shock ain't ever going to be over her.
"Me? I've been sent back here to see if I can salvage anything from when they decided to tear apart the school again. Seems like an almost annual occurrence now. It's like every year, someone or other decides that they don't like the paint on our school and tries to demolish it. Sheesh and I thought fashion critics were harsh. I guess the others thought I'd be pretty helpless with all the heavy lifting and stuff… And they would probably be right. No brawn here but still…
"I would have liked to have been some help though, even if it was just to cheer the Juggernaut on." Pausing, she made a face. "By the way, that is such a weird thing and it's even stranger to know that I kind of like the big guy. He's no Wolvie, mind you, but he's been a real good guy lately. Even says 'hi' and 'good morning' to me at times… when I don't freak out and go running out the room at first sight of him. Yeah, yeah, I know, wake up first then go get breakfast, I hear you Ange, I just don't do it."
She smiled and leaned back against the edge of her shredded dresser, remembering all the times that Angelo had been on the receiving end of her less than awake conversations that amounted to nothing. It's funny how of all the good times and special occasions they spent together, including holidays and birthdays, those inconsequential moments were the one that she remembered and cherished the most.
"I brought over some juice and cookies for the guys this morning, before the funeral and after. I figure even superheroes gotta eat, right? Though looking at Warren and Kurt, you'd think otherwise. It's scary the way they worked themselves one foot into the grave. Kurt finally collapsed last night after 52 hour straight. Warren is still at it… but then he does have the added advantage of that healing blood of his.
"By the way, did you know those two are like on the opposite ends of the morality spectrum? Or at least that's where they should be. Warren is visually the mortal approximation of an angel and Kurt is the son of Satan himself, his dad told him that. I nearly peed in my pants laughing at the irony of it considering Kurt has always been the soul of goodness while Warren caused a hell of lot of pain and destruction as Apocalypse's Death. Life never ceases to amaze the hell out of me… Pun intended.
"I don't really like feeling so completely helpless. It makes me frustrated and gives me way too much time to think about the fact that I am helpless. No, not the kind of helpless as in I can't protect myself… why am I explaining this to you guys? You know exactly what I mean." She grinned for a moment, knowing that Angelo would probably be rolling his eyes while Everett would smile indulgently and pat her on the shoulder or something. They were like that.
"I wish Jean was here. Jean would know what to do for me if she were here. She never saw me as helpless or tried to coddle me like I'm some sort of six year old.
"I miss her."
Holding her breath for a moment, she willed the tightening of her throat away. She wasn't going to cry. She was not going to cry.
"The others joke about it, you know. They don't do it in front of Scott or Wolvie, too much in fear of their lives obviously, but they do. Bobby laughs a lot, almost too much, and says that she's always come back from the dead before, time and time again. She was the Phoenix, and phoenixes always rise from the ashes. And she will rise again… they even had the damn words craved on her headstone. 'She shall rise again.' How stupid is that?"
She cursed and ran a knuckle over her watery eyes.
"I use to think that. Don't laugh guys, I did, emphasis on the past tense here. After all, Storm 'died' and came back. Jean has died twice now and came back. Rogue's done the same thing. I heard Kitty's pulled a resurrection act in the past… or was it someone had replaced her. Betsy Braddock disappeared, came back as a different person and… well, she didn't come back at the end but still.... Heck, I've visited the pearly gates myself and managed to get dragged back kicking and screaming. (Not a fun experience by the way.)
"And then people stopped coming back. Claire, Illyana, Peter, Betsy, YOU GUYS!"
Frowning, she stared at the last two words and wondered why she'd written them with so much force that it threatened to tear the page. If she had actually been speaking to them, she was certain she'd be yelling at them by now. Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her chest to ease the tightness there and to force back the compulsion to shed tears.
"I didn't mean to yell. It's just… sometimes it seems so unfair! You guys are gone and I'm so mad at your guys for being gone. Not that I really blame you or anything but… I'm so alone here and I don't want to be. I miss you guys so badly. Sometimes I wish it were me and not you. Death seems so much easier than this constant state of aching that I live with. This world is going to hell in a hand basket and I miss you. It's so hard to be here without you guys, face this place and…"
Dropping the pen, she pressed both hands against her mouth and tried to stop the quivering there. But her heart was pounding so fast and so hard and so painful, nothing could have stopped the tiny sob from escaping. The tears rolled over her fingers and she silently allowed herself to cry her pains.
"I miss you guys," she wrote carefully when she finally had enough control to hold the pen. "They say that you don't how much you love someone until they're gone… that's so true. I can't even begin to describe how much I miss you."
Taking a deep shuddering breath, she looked out the window. It was surprising bright after several days of muggy rain and snow. It's like Mother Nature was mourning along with the rest of the X-Men. But instead of the cleansing she usually felt after a rainstorm, it only brought to stark reality that… Jean Gray-Summer is dead.
And she wasn't coming home this time.
Glancing down at the entry, "I'm thinking about returning to LA, Ange. What do you think? I don't seem to be doing much here anyways and…"
"JUBILEE!"
The shout startled her, causing an unscripted jagged line to make its way across a half written page. Thoroughly annoyed and having no recourse of correcting the mar on in her journal, she almost didn't answer the shout out. But whoever it was out there yelling for her, called out again, this time a little more frightened and a little more desperate. Something about it tugged at her.
Capping the pen and closing the journal, she dropped both back in the cigar box and carefully tied the black hair ribbon around the whole thing. Shoving it under her half collapsed bed she got up and went to the window.
She almost didn't see him.
"JUBIE!!!"
Startled at the sheer volume, "I'm here!" tapping lightly at the window, slightly surprised that it was still in tact.
It took less than ten seconds for Bobby Drake to ice-slide his way to the third floor window. He waited impatiently while she forced the latch and opened it. "What the hell are you doing in there? Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something?"
Stunned stupid, she blinked at him.
Exasperated, he reached through the window for her, forcing her to jump back. "Come here," he ordered in a no nonsense tone. "This whole building is unstable. It could collapse around you if you're not careful. Now come here, let me get you out of there."
"Wait…" backing up another step and crushing something underfoot.
"Jubilee…" he warned.
"Just wait," she said as she looked around the room quickly.
Yanking out a backpack half buried by books, she emptied it of Paige's things. Reaching under her bed, she tossed the cigar box in. Looking around, she grabbed a torn sweater on the floor and wrapped it around several broken picture frames, some of hers, some of Paige's. Putting those in the backpack, she swung it around her shoulder and rushed back to the window, where Bobby was sitting on the sill.
"Ready?" he asked, more amused than annoyed that she made him wait.
"Yeah," taking his hand without flinching at the cold. "Let's get out of here."
"Why were you in here in the first place," lifting her through the window. "And where the hell is your coat? It's freezing out here."
"I ditched it to get up the stairs," she wrapped her arms around his waist; fear of slipping off gave her strength.
One arm around the girl and one arm out to create the sled, "What were you doing in there?"
"Stuff."
"Stuff?"
"Yeah," she looked up and grinned at him. "Girl stuff."
He decided that he didn't really want to know. "You okay?"
"Yeah," nodding her head then squeezing her eyes shut again. "Have I told you now much I hate traveling by ice mode?"
"I thought you said it was cool?"
"Oh, it's cool alright; it's down right cold."
Bobby laughed the first genuine laugh she's heard from him in a long while. "Should we go get your coat?"
"Please?"
He grinned and took them around, swinging the ice-slide sharply just to make her squeal. He squeezed her shoulder as they landed on the ground neatly. No one had the ability to make him laugh the way Jubilee did.
Taking a deep breath, she glared at him before making her way around the broken front door and into the foyer again. Her coat was exactly where she left it. "What are you doing here, anyways? I though you were still in New York with the others."
"Scott couldn't get in touch with you and he got concerned," taking the backpack from her as she pulled the long coat on. "Nice dress." Unable to resist, she punched him. "Ow… I was trying to give you a compliment there."
"Right," rolling her eyes as she took the backpack again.
"Where did you find that anyways?"
"Some second hand store in Albany," she muttered and smoothed out the too big front. "It's not like I plan on keeping this thing."
"Why not?" he asked and was answered with a look that asked if he was stupid or something. Taking her hand again, "Are you staying at the clinic?" referring to the health clinic that Cecelia Reyes had kindly turned into a shelter for the now homeless students of Xavier's school.
"Yeah, Dr. Reyes offered me her office as my room," she silently thanked the good doctor. The room offered her privacy from the prying eyes of the students, who she did not want to see her crying. Jean was a teacher to them, but she was Jubilee's friend. "When do you think we'll know what is going to happen next?"
"At this point, it's anyone's guess." Bobby shrugged. "Warren offered his penthouse in New York for the X-Men. Jean-Paul says that we can use his townhouse as well."
"Jean-Paul?"
"Yeah, can you believe it?" Sharing the amusement with her.
"When?"
"When…" he looked away. "Never mind."
She sensed his reluctance and left it. She had no doubt that it had been a moment of weakness and while she didn't particular knew Jean-Paul all that well, she knew that deep down, way deep, he was a good guy if the professor asked him to be here.
Shivering against the cold wind and the cold body next to her, she took a moment to enjoy the beauty left by the winter storm.
"Hey, in case no one else remember to stay awake long enough to thank you," he gave her shoulder another squeeze, enjoying the lightheartedness after two grueling days of pulling dead bodies out and praying for just one live one, "Thanks for all your help."
That left her somewhat speechless. "Huh?"
Because she looked so perplexed, he didn't laugh directly in her face. "For the cookies, and juice, and sandwiches by the truck full, and milk you keep bring. If you hadn't brought them, I don't think any of us would have been smart enough to remember to eat," he grinned at her and picked up the pace at the ice-sled, looking back every once in a while to assure that he was remembering to clean up after himself. "It kept us going and we managed to save some people that would have probably died if we had been fallen by hunger. By the way, where did you get all those blankets from? They came in real handy."
She frowned, not sure when was hearing anything correctly. "Oh… they were from the emergency supply in the X-Sanctuary." He blinked at her, as if to question why she even knew of the place. "Wolvie showed it to me when I first got here. Told me to go there if ever there came at time when the Mansion was attacked and we were separated. I figure they should be some useful supplies there so…"
"No, no," he nodded quickly, feeling slightly foolish for having forgotten that place. But it has been years since… "You did good."
"I did?"
Not sure if answering was the smartest thing to do, "Yeah, you did. You did everything that we hadn't thought of. And you took care of us at the same time. Thank you," leaning down to press a kiss on the top of her head, ignoring the shiver of cold from her.
Dropping her off at the clinic, Bobby went in just long enough to get Dr. Reyes who came out grumbling about having to travel by Iceman Express. But since she and Dr. McCoy were trading off shifts, and Hank has been at it for three days now, she got on and they took off.
Locking the door to the good doctor's office, Jubilee took a moment and breath in deep. Sitting down at the spread sleeping bag, she pulled the cigar box from the backpack and undid the ribbon.
"Dear Ev and Ange,
"Bobby said I did good.
"Maybe I'm not so helpless after all."
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Fin…
Unless the urge hits me again.