Author's Note: All right, here goes the obligatory author's note. So, basically these are a couple of scenes that I think were missing from the comics. I suppose this would take place around/within Uncanny X-Men #423, for continuity's sake (but since when has that mattered?). Anyway, this is pretty much a bittersweet fic about... well, death and wondering and... just... yeah. I'm sucking at the description. Just read it! Oh, and the dialogue at the end was made up by me 'cause I didn't like the dialogue they used in the issue. Work with me here.
Disclaimer: Yes, I do own the X-Men, how did you know? Okay, okay, so I don't. But... it'd be pretty sweet if I did!

Death and Wonder
by, Caliente

"Do you ever wonder?"

She's not even looking at me. She's laying on her stomach, flipping through some teen magazine or something. Her eyes never leave the page as she swings her legs back and forth. "Wonder what?"

I, on the other hand, am sitting on the edge of her bed watching her every movement. My eyes never leave her. I'm not even sure she notices. "Wonder what it's like?"

"Wonder what what's like?" Her body's sway's slowed slightly. She's paying more attention now but, still, her focus remains on the magazine.

I think, for a moment, that she might just be doing it to annoy me.

No matter. It doesn't. "Wonder what it's like to die."

This gets her attention. "What?" Her eyes are already starting to tear, her face a mixture of anger and sadness. I can see the pain etched into every inch of her being. I can feel it as well as my own. "How can you ask me that?" It's not pain in her voice anymore. No, it's anger. Typical.

"It's just… in our line of work…" I shrug. "Death is a precious commodity."

Not the right thing to say, apparently. She looks about ready to blow a fuse. "'A precious commodity'?" Yep. Fuse blowing time. "How can you say something like that? After all that's happened… all that you've seen… how can you just write it off like that?" The anger's given way to pure disbelief.

With my luck, I'll take that. "Think about it chica." I might just be digging myself in deeper here. "Think about all of those who've come back."

"Think about all those who haven't." Her tone is even but the first of her tears rolls down her cheek as she speaks.

Suddenly, I'm wondering the wisdom of brining this up in the first place. "I miss him too. But… sometimes… sometimes I just wonder."

"Well don't." She tries to snap at me with that firecracker personality she's famous for but I can see through it. After all, I am the king of the tough act. I reach over to touch her but she shies away. "Just… don't."

I hold my hands up in surrender – almost always the smartest move with this one. Can't push her too far or she'll never come back. "All right chica, all right." I sit back, eyes still on her as her resumes swinging her legs, though not with as much vigor. The silence is awkward. "So… how 'bout them Dodgers?"

"Ange!" she cries, throwing a pillow at my head. But she's smiling. Good. I never want to hurt the beautiful creature before me. Not permanently-like anyway. She's wonderful. Face still damp, eyes alight… she's perfect.

I don't know what makes me think of that moment. As I'm hanging here… it's cold. So cold. And I wonder what Ev thought… before it happened to him. Of course, he didn't have a lot of time to think. But, then again, a moment can feel like a year when you've been crucified because of what you are.

At first, all I could feel was pain. Seering where they'd nailed my hands to the cross. And the pain of watching them hurt her… And then the anger set in. Because… we deserve better. She deserves better. Hell, even after all I've done, I deserve better. At least Ev died for something! We… we're dying for nothing. That's about when the sadness kicked in.

I'm sure there was some denial and bargaining in there too – those as stages of grief too, right? But, in the end, there was only acceptance. Acceptance for what had happened, for what was going to happen… I just played to Dios that she would be okay, even when I wasn't.

I guess, from the moment they came, I knew. I mean, I'd said it myself. "In our line of work…death is a precious commodity." And now, well, it looks like I'm about to cash in.

Funny, I never figured that it'd end so… easily. So anti-climatic. Thought I'd go out with a bang – either in a blaze of glory or a shot in the back of the head. But I'm not. I'm just… going out. Period. And then all that will be left of me will be my memory. Like Ev's.

And suddenly, it hits me. Death isn't the precious commodity – everyone dies eventually. Even the Wolverine will. It's life that's precious. And I hope, even more, that she'll live… because she deserves that much. Me? I'm getting what's mine. I know that. But she… just let her live…

…please… Dios please…

"Ange?"

"I'm sorry Jubilee… he didn't make it."

"…no… you – you're lying! Where is he!"

"Jubes…"

"NO! Where IS he!"

"He's right here."

"Ange… Ange, c'mon kid… wake up! It's – it's your favorite Jubicita… pl-please Ange… open your eyes… please… oh, Ange…"

"I'm sorry kid, I'm so sorry…"

Reviews are, as always, much appreciated. So please, please, please review! Pretty please! I have chocolate...