Disclaimer: Fortunately for me, I do not own the X-Men. I can't handle that amount of responsibility. But, all the Juventud are my creations and therefore belong to me. Just try and steal 'em. I've been wondering what Ruckus the Bad Kitty can do when she's really mad.
Author's note: The title of this story is dedicated to Jesse Manson, for entertaining me in sophomore year Spanish; "rascacielos", "juventud", and "modelo" will always be my favorite palabras de español. This story has been fermenting in my brain for…well, since fifth grade, but I've been writing so many college papers lately that I haven't had time to regurgitate all these AWESOME thoughts, so…complete apologies to my brain.
I'm giving this an R rating for language and possibly other stuff to come.
I guess this has to be an Alternate Universe story, cause it's pretty much my own little world. No X-Treme, no Ultimate, Remy did the whole Antarctica thing, but I'm not sure about the rest of the Gambit title. Oh well. We'll see how it goes.
Home was, in fact, the exact opposite of what Jazmin wished it to be. The warmth hit her like a baseball bat the minute she opened the door, while the noise chose a different mode, and came at her like a freight train. Ten year-old Alisa and Jazz's little brother, seven year-old RJ, went racing by her, presumably outside to make a snowman. Penelope was indeed in the kitchen, making dinner and assisted by Ecco, Rainne and Harriet. The four girls were setting the tables, simmering soup, and checking the roast every few seconds. Jazz smiled at that.
Crouched around the television, presumably watching some sporting event, were George, Jason, Junior, Stephen, Matt, Gabriel, Riker, and Roxanne. Roxanne. Jazz could never understand her friend's fascination with contact sports. Then, considering her mother, maybe Jazz could understand. A god-awful din came from that corner of the room, in the form of, "Go! Go! Go!" and, "Aww, he was robbed!"
Ashelee and Fiona were struggling to get the logs in the fireplace to accept flame. They wanted to get something done the hard way, so therefore, multiple boxes of matches lay scattered around them, empty. The two were staring at the logs, debating on whether or not to cheat and then say they got lucky with the matches. The hard way was hard.
Yolana had managed to find her own little bit of serenity in the bay window's niche. Light from the house spilled out onto the snow, illuminating Yo-Yo's glossy sheet of platinum blonde hair. Her calm, sky blue eyes scanned the pages of the book she was reading; she looked completely cozy and at peace. But then, that was always Yo-Yo's style.
The only person Jazz couldn't place was Angelica, and frankly, Jazz wouldn't care if Angel dropped off the face of the Earth.
As for Zack…well, she always knew where Zack was. Right now, he was in the boys' room, and Jazz decided that was where she would like to be, as well. She found her twin brother snoring softly in his bed, his ruddy brown hair tousled and messy; one of his arms was looped gently around Cloud, Ecco's sweet gray kitten, who seemed to absolutely adore Zackary. With a sigh, Jazz shed her coat and shoes and slipped into the bed beside him. Taking the edge of her scarf, she tickled his nose until the snoring stopped and he snorted himself awake. His free arm crept around her and squeezed, and he spoke without bothering to open his eyes. She soon discovered why.
"Jazzie?"
"Yeah, lil' bro?
"There's snow outside." The arm around her waist tightened, and his eyes scrunched closed even tighter. "I'm cold."
The words struck deep within Jazmin's heart. *Oh no. I hoped he'd grown out of this. Maybe if we're lucky, he won't have a panic attack.*
"Oh Zack, it's okay. You're safe inside, you're warm, and I'm here to protect you. No worries, Zackary Alexander, no worries."
Ever since he was small, Zack had reacted violently to the onset of winter. As an infant, he had squalled whenever he was carried outside, no matter how tightly he was swaddled. As a toddler, he had thrown temper tantrums, kicking and screaming, and once had even bitten through their father's hand. Dad had felt bad, Jazz remembered; he felt guilty over passing on to his son the phobia that the older man had managed to overcome.
As he grew older, Zack learned how to partially control his crippling fear. From the first snow of the season, he would remain inside the house for up to a week, until his mind was able to wrap itself around the fact that snow is harmless. Still, there were times when the endless white blanket would send him into fits of hysterics. His panic attacks forced their mother to tears, for she believed in her heart that it was all her fault. No amount of consoling or logic could convince her otherwise.
This was Zack's first adverse reaction to snow since their arrival in Salem Center. Jazmin sighed. Hopefully it wouldn't get any worse, and he would recover before dinner. She cuddled her brother close, stroking his hair and attempting to soothe away his terror and replace it with the absolute love she had for him (even when he did something really stupid, and that was often). She clung to the hope that would pull through the attack in time for the show.
That was another thing they had inherited from their parents. The unwavering belief in hope.