A/N: Okay, so I think this is the second to last chapter unless I'm struck with a sudden crazy idea to take this story somewhere else. Sorry for how long it took me to get this up. I didn't exactly have writer's block, but more like a lack of inspiration!

Thanks to BlueSqueak, Boots(and all six of your reviews), Jaenelle (best wishes to your infected computer!), and Ellie! You guys rock!

Oh, and I don't own anything… but don't I wish I did!

Now on to chapter six!

Okay, the thing about waking up after your body decides to go into a bit of energy craving exhaustion is that well… you don't. How can one even think about responding to their name when every part of his or her body is screaming in pain? How can one even think to comprehend what had just happened? How can one think at all?

"Sapphire…" And yeah, they were still calling me by that stupid name Jimmy had made up for me. They didn't know I had remembered and they didn't know I knew my name to be Jubilation and nothing else (well, except for Jubilee, J, Jube and such).

And you know that feeling where you wake up after your body shuts down from lack of energy? The feeling where everything (on top of your body screaming in pain) is too bright and everything is just too loud? Well, that's what I felt like. I wanted to tell them that I remembered their names and their faces, but I couldn't at that moment. My body was overriding the want and the need to explain. My body was screaming at me to ignore the now anxiety prone voice calling me and I couldn't exactly do anything else. What my body wanted… my body got.

I remember opening my eyes briefly before shutting them completely and then leaving my rescuers with nothing except a glimpse of my sapphire-like eyes. Oh yeah… I left them my unconscious body too. What a gift, huh?

So it turns out that the furry hand that grabbed me from the burning building was Hank's. Yeah, it was Hank McCoy the other man with a furry hand. Who would have thought? And I'd just like to know exactly how many men (and women, I suppose), are running around with furry hands. I'm gonna need to like make a list for future references… let's just hope I'll never have to use it. And let's just hope that I'm never on that list!

Yeah, so supposedly the X-team had arrived just in time and had gallantly rescued me from the burning building and Sabertooth. He had only returned when the X-team arrived. Of course they sent him packing and away from the scene with his tail between his legs.

Wolverine supposedly tried looking for me for the longest time and couldn't come up with anything, but led the X-team in the right direction… supposedly anyway. I haven't heard the story from him since he's nowhere to be found. Well… and I guess I haven't gotten around to looking for Wolverine since I'm trapped in the prison they like to call the med-lab. Of course I remembered the place… I just had forgotten how much they baby you while you remain indisposed or something like that.

Yeah, yeah… so they rescued me… blah di blah. I explained my story (half-way through of course, Jean nearly suffocated me) with my audience gasping and grimacing in the perfect places. But the most important person that needed to be in the audience was of course gone.

"Where's Logan?"

And those just had happened to be my first words when I had awoken, startling Hank so badly he dropped a beaker containing something yellow. (Here's to hoping it wasn't my pee or anything…) He ignored the question (and the glass) at first and set about to making sure I was comfortable and healing properly.

When I asked again, he shifted uncomfortably and began a sympathy-ridden apology. I stopped him before he could get all the words out. And then, while Beast cleaned up the shattered pieces of the shattered beaker, he explained the story of how I was found and just how long ago Logan had run. I mean I knew he had run, but the confirmation really set it in stone for me, if you know what I mean.

And so, I began to heal. I still felt extremely weak and received the blessing of sudden coughing fits for a while, but even if I was stuck in a building without water and food for days (turns out I wasn't there too long) there weren't any lasting affects. And soon after that, I was released from the med-lab (ahemprisonahem) and set free to wander the mansion on my own time and my own free will. Of course, wandering around the mansion and not finding the one thing that you're looking for is pretty depressing… and I think you all know what… who I was looking for.

He was nowhere to be found.

He was nowhere to be found in the mansion at least. I kind of shied away from the idea and the action of actually leaving the mansion to go and look for him; to confront him. Go ahead… call me a coward who doesn't deserve Logan's like own footstep or something near that, but I just couldn't face him. And I know that's a total contradiction. I wanted to see him so badly and talk to him, but at the same time I was putting it off. Eh… what can one say, the mind is a complicated thing and even though I'm one to never sit back and just wait anything out… I found myself just doing that.

I diverted my attention completely away from the topic. Even when Remy tried to ask me if I had found him yet, I changed the topic immediately. I was determined to think of anything but Logan. And I have to say that everyone faired well because of it… pretty well indeed.

Because in order to divert my attention fully, I treated myself and most of my fellow teammates to relaxing days at various spa's (Bobby swore up and down that he would never get anything done in a spa, but I spotted him treating himself to a facial and a pedicure), treated my various teammates to various movies (Bobby swore up and down that he wouldn't like The Notebook, but cried like a baby anyway), and lounged around various rooms of the X-mansion.

Oh yeah… and I shopped.

Hmm… wait, how can I explain this a little better? Oh yeah, well I kind of bought out the entire local mall and the mall in the next town over. I was like hurricane Jubilee or something. And nothing could get in my way.

When one buys and buys and buys and buys, one tends to run out of closet space… and floor space… and bed space… and pretty much any space that might be left in one's room. Fortunately and unfortunately, that one would be me. Nothing in my way? How about no more walking room in one's bedroom?

So I set about to cleaning up and going through some of my old things. The Professor had made a little room in the attic for a little of my old stuff (little being the key word here) and I was forced to get off my sorry butt and actually clean.

The first thing that hits you when you clean something is the dust. Dust gets in places that I thought nothing could reach. Dust is floaty, dust makes me sneeze, and dust never gets off your hands. It was a gross experience. But an even worse weapon than dust were the memories.

I couldn't get through one single garment without reminiscing for at least the next five minutes. I would hold the piece of clothing (usually neon colored, please… I'm Jubilee for cryin' out loud) and get all misty eyed and snotty. But, that could have also been the smell of gross dust and tears of disgust as my hands found stale, stale, stale wadded up gum in every single pocket. Ew!

I didn't even hear the knock at my door and was completely startled when I heard my door creak open. But that wasn't what made me drop the green shorts I was holding to my chest. Oh no, the person himself made me do that.

Skin was standing right in front of me and there wasn't anyone for me to hide behind or anything for me to hide under! (There were clothes under my bed!!)

I didn't know what to feel, what to say. I had no idea what to do.

"What-what're you doing here," I questioned softly.

"I came to see you." I bent down to pick up the green shorts as he said this and nearly fell over from his words.

"But you… hate me."

"No I don't. And I never did, but you threw up and ran away before I could tell you that."

I stood up swiftly and marched over to him. "How dare you, Angelo? How dare you! You let me walk out of our apartment letting me think that you hated me! And now you come back and try to let everything live in the past?" I stomped away and finally picked up the green shorts from the floor. I hurled them into a brown box and continued stomping around my room, only stopping at my closet. And that was only to fling more and more old clothing into various boxes. I didn't even look to see if I was making the clothes in… I just threw and threw and threw.

"You're as stubborn as ever, chica. You never gave up a figh—"

"Oh don't call me stubborn when you're the king of willfulness! It was you're stupid stubbornness that kept you at a dead chase! Just because you couldn't have me you sabotaged our friendship too."

"Listen—"

"No! You listen to me, Skin. Just because you couldn't get your stupid way and have me return the stupid feelings doesn't grant you the right to yell at me and kick me out of your room when I was only doing what I always did and I'm sorry if you didn't like it and couldn't stand it and you didn't have to yell at me and be mean and… be stupid and stuff." I huffed, crossed my arms and plopped onto my bed… clothes be damned.

"Are you done now?" When I didn't answer, he sat next to me. "I'm sorry for what I did, chica. I was a jealous fool whose feelings got in the way. Can you ever forgive a long-struck fool?"

"Depends on what you brought me," I said with a smile.

"Well… a little birdie told me that someone has been looking for a special someone and I kind of got a rough location. Okay, I got the exact location."

My smile seemed to be wiped completely from my face as I looked up and into Angelo's eyes. "But… I don't know what to say to him, Ange. What if everything goes wrong and I ruin everything?"

"You miss a hundred percent of the shots you never take," he said with a smile.

"Wow… what have you become? A pocket version of inspirational quotes?"

He laughed. "Wayne Gretzky said that, and no I'm not a pocket version of inspirational quotes, but I read that once and it's a very great motto." He looked at me closely and then said, "Chica, if I can come here and take the chance to talk to you, you can take the chance and go talk to Wolverine."

"Yeah… you're right." I leaned forward and hugged him tightly while he wrapped his many layers of skin around my torso. I whispered a thank you in his ear and after a minute or two, our grips loosened and we let go. "Ohmigosh… what will I wear?!"

He only laughed rip-roaringly while I mockingly glared. Some things could be pieced together and made new again, and some things couldn't help but remain broken. What would happen when I talked to Wolvie? Could we fix the damage or be forever broken?