Once Upon a Time
By Sparklagal
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, not even the plot bunnies! I swear, they
come and go as they please!
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Jubilee brushed a strand of hair from her face and stepped back from her canvas to view her work. Bright colors covered the upper left edge of the canvas, down lower in the bottom right dark angry colors reminiscent of blood and death lingered. The space in between the two was filled by a gray void.
She frowned. Not what she wanted. She took a paintbrush and tried to fill in the void between the two, expanding the space they took up. On the first brush stroke she recoiled and quickly painted it over with gray.
In an act of frustration she ripped the hair band holding back her short hair out. It broke. She muttered angrily as she went to look for a new one. She had been working on the painting for over five years, having started soon after she left the X-men.
Jubilee closed her eyes as the memory struck a chord. Her mouth twitched in annoyance. She still couldn't think about that day without becoming upset. She shook her head, resolving not to think about it anymore.
Jubes went into her room and pulled open a drawer. While digging around until she found a hair tie, her hand hit a piece of paper. She frowned and pulled it out. The moment she saw it she threw it back in angrily and decided to look elsewhere for the renegade hairpiece.
The faded, ripped photo floated back down to the bottom of the drawer. Two happy people grinned out of it. Well, at least Jubilee was grinning. Logan was snarling, though it happened to be a happy snarl.
Jubes gave her own impression of a snarl as she slammed the drawer shut. She really didn't need to think about that right now. She didn't need the painful reminders about how horrible a screw up she was.
She went to her bedside table. After tearing through the drawer and the wiping the debris off the top she searched under the bed. Blindly groping she caught a piece of cloth. She of course regretted this immediately.
After all, she had put he Stetson under the bed for that very reason, so she didn't have to see it. She stuffed it back under and gave up the search. Who knew what other memorabilia was around. Her yellow raincoat, something she hadn't donned in over 3 years. The letters Remy had tried to get her to respond to, the letters from Logan that Remy had forwarded.
She rubbed at the tears that blurred her vision and walked back to the painting.
"Damn you Logan." She whispered as she dropped to her knees before the painting that was supposed to be she and him.
"Damn you for all this pain you've caused."
She painted black across his corner.
"Damn you for being so blind."
She painted white across hers.
"Damn you for not needing me." She collapsed and dropped the paintbrush, letting it stain the carpet with the acrylic still clinging to its bristles. She sobbed quietly.
"And damn me for needing you so damned much."
She lay for a while, then rose, wiping the remaining tears from her cheek. She picked up the brush, dipped it in the appropriate color, and began the painting over. Exactly as it had been.
Maybe a the bright colors were a bit dimmer, and the dark ones a bit angrier. But it didn't matter to her, she was the only one who cared. The only one who'd ever see it.
The only onlooker, if you will.
********************
Jubilee brushed a strand of hair from her face and stepped back from her canvas to view her work. Bright colors covered the upper left edge of the canvas, down lower in the bottom right dark angry colors reminiscent of blood and death lingered. The space in between the two was filled by a gray void.
She frowned. Not what she wanted. She took a paintbrush and tried to fill in the void between the two, expanding the space they took up. On the first brush stroke she recoiled and quickly painted it over with gray.
In an act of frustration she ripped the hair band holding back her short hair out. It broke. She muttered angrily as she went to look for a new one. She had been working on the painting for over five years, having started soon after she left the X-men.
Jubilee closed her eyes as the memory struck a chord. Her mouth twitched in annoyance. She still couldn't think about that day without becoming upset. She shook her head, resolving not to think about it anymore.
Jubes went into her room and pulled open a drawer. While digging around until she found a hair tie, her hand hit a piece of paper. She frowned and pulled it out. The moment she saw it she threw it back in angrily and decided to look elsewhere for the renegade hairpiece.
The faded, ripped photo floated back down to the bottom of the drawer. Two happy people grinned out of it. Well, at least Jubilee was grinning. Logan was snarling, though it happened to be a happy snarl.
Jubes gave her own impression of a snarl as she slammed the drawer shut. She really didn't need to think about that right now. She didn't need the painful reminders about how horrible a screw up she was.
She went to her bedside table. After tearing through the drawer and the wiping the debris off the top she searched under the bed. Blindly groping she caught a piece of cloth. She of course regretted this immediately.
After all, she had put he Stetson under the bed for that very reason, so she didn't have to see it. She stuffed it back under and gave up the search. Who knew what other memorabilia was around. Her yellow raincoat, something she hadn't donned in over 3 years. The letters Remy had tried to get her to respond to, the letters from Logan that Remy had forwarded.
She rubbed at the tears that blurred her vision and walked back to the painting.
"Damn you Logan." She whispered as she dropped to her knees before the painting that was supposed to be she and him.
"Damn you for all this pain you've caused."
She painted black across his corner.
"Damn you for being so blind."
She painted white across hers.
"Damn you for not needing me." She collapsed and dropped the paintbrush, letting it stain the carpet with the acrylic still clinging to its bristles. She sobbed quietly.
"And damn me for needing you so damned much."
She lay for a while, then rose, wiping the remaining tears from her cheek. She picked up the brush, dipped it in the appropriate color, and began the painting over. Exactly as it had been.
Maybe a the bright colors were a bit dimmer, and the dark ones a bit angrier. But it didn't matter to her, she was the only one who cared. The only one who'd ever see it.
The only onlooker, if you will.