X-MEN ETERNITY

Generation: Eternity #1: Jubilation Day
Rated PG-13 for violence and language

by R. John Burke
X-Men Eternity Message Board: http://solofan.proboards76.com/index.cgi

DISCLAIMER: The X-Men are a copyright of Marvel Comics. I don't own them, but this is only non-profit fan fiction. No money is involved and no infringement is intended.

TIMELINE: This story takes place after X-Men Eternity: The Crossroads and concurrently with Uncanny X-Men Eternity #7. It is encouraged to read those stories first.

AUTHOR'S NOTE ON JUBILEE: Although her exact age is ambiguous and my estimate is probably different from Marvel's (Over Four Million Characters De-Aged!), she's been around since 1989 in real-time, after all. I'm assuming the age given in this story is as logical as anything else.

*****

PREVIOUSLY IN " X-MEN: ETERNITY"

An alternate ending to the House of M scattered the X-Men into several timelines and resulted in the creation of the reality-hopping villain Slayer. After a number of adventures across time, the X-Men managed to defeat the Slayer at the cost of the life of founding team member Warren Worthington III, the Angel. While attempting to save him, Jonothon Starsmore-- Chamber-- accidentally transferred his psionic energy into Warren's body, creating a new being..

In the wake of the battle, Emma Frost has determined to reopen her Massachusetts Academy, and has set about recruiting a staff among her former students. Her methods are-- shall we say-- a bit unconventional...

****

8:00 P.M. (Now)

Jubilation Lee could feel her enemy's presence, very close. Huge, hairy, with sharp claws and hot breath, it had already shredded her raincoat and taken a sizable chunk out of her left arm.

She forced herself onward-- battered, half-dead on her feet, choking back tears and ready to bolt with every sound. The woods around her were dark, full of shadows that might enclose an ambush. Jubilee tried to summon some fireworks to light her way, but she was too weak. She'd lost a *lot* of blood. She didn't want to think how much. Too bad she didn't have a healing factor.

*This is the worst day EVER,* she decided, from the place deep inside her brain that remained lucid. *I've screwed up everything with everyone, and now I'm gonna die. If I just had a time machine, I'd go back 12 hours and do the exact opposite of everything. Little late for that now.

*It was all so outrageously awful, it must have been fate. I was like destined to end here, from the moment I blew up the alarm clock. Maybe that should have been a hint that the day would suck...*

****

8:00 A.M. (Then)

BEEEEP! BEEEEP! BEEEEP!

"DIE!!!" cried Jubilation Lee; she unleashed a burst of fireworks that incinerated her alarm clock and a good part of her nightstand. She really didn't care.

Paige Guthrie did. Jubilee's temporary roommate swore and threw a pillow in her direction. It felt like an anvil when it bounced off Jubilee's head. She staggered into the bathroom, hoping she could get at least that far before she hurled.

She thought, *I hope I'm in your will an' stuff, Emma, 'cuz you're DEAD.*

She got into the bathroom, but not much further. Ten minutes later, she wobbled to her feet, eyes feeling like they wanted to pop from her skull. She rubbed them experimentally, so shaken that she accidentally let go of another burst-- PAF! right in her own eyes.

"ARGH!" Jubilee cried, and fell again. "What'd I ever do to deserve this?"

Strictly speaking, of course, she knew what she'd done. It had all started so almost innocently... she and Paige and Monet had sneaked a bottle of wine to use in toasting Jono and Warren. That was all it was supposed to be-- *one* toast, to a couple of good friends. (* see The Crossroads) Paige had needed the closure. They all had.

Then Emma Frost had showed up. And she'd been surprisingly sympathetic and understanding and had even brought a bottle of good champagne, and--

"That WITCH!" Jubilee hissed. "She got us DRUNK! I'll-- ow."

*Softer,* she decided, and groaned.

She could hear Wolvie's growling voice in her head (barely, over the thudding headache), telling her he could handle all the beer he liked with his healing factor, but a kid like her needed to steer clear of booze, period.

"Yeah, yeah," she muttered to him. "I'm not a kid anymore, Wolvie. I'm past eighteen, and..."

She trailed off. *I'm -what-?* She ran-- stumbled-- back into the bedroom and searched what remained of her nightstand for a calendar. There it was, with the date circled in red. In all the excitement about the Slayer and the return of the X-Men and the almost-dying-more-than-usual, she'd completely forgotten it was today.

Her hunt disturbed Paige, who threw a book this time. A hardcover. Jubilee was in no condition to duck.

*Happy freaking birthday to me,* she thought, as the volume struck her forehead. It was going to be a long day.

****

8:25 AM

"Yeh got them all, then?"

Emma Frost turned from her sunlit window, where she'd been observing her next appointment's approach, to regard her once and future parter.

"Not Paige," she said. "She'll go with X-Factor, of course. But Monet, Jubilee, and what passes for Chamber these days have all signed on with us. I can't tell you how pleased they were when they heard."

Sean Cassidy-- the Banshee-- leaned against the wall and stroked his chin. "Well, now... this business might be lookin' up after all. I'd hoped yeh might persuade one or two, but never all three. I'm impressed, Miss Frost."

"Thank you, Sean, I'm sure you are."

"How'd yeh do it?"

"A lady never tells," Emma said, then frowned. She sensed a new presence approaching, which meant her appointment had covered the distance in quite a hurry. That probably meant she was--

WHAM! Emma's door flew off its hinges and across the room. Monet St. Croix stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips. Yes, she was slightly miffed. And more than slightly hung over, healing factor or none.

"Emma, darling, I suggest you turn to diamond. It's not that this will be any less painful, but I plan to grind you into tiny pieces, and I *adore* diamonds..."

Sean arched an eyebrow. "Tell me again how terribly thrilled they were?"

"No," said Emma, "that's not what I said. I said I *couldn't* tell you how terribly thrilled they were-- because I'm not lying these days. Well, not as often. Not in the same way. Not--"

"--breathing," Monet said, and got three steps into the room before Emma hit her with a small telepathic reminder of who was still the teacher here, and who the pupil. She stopped dead in her tracks, wincing.

"Control yourself, Miss St. Croix. I was only acting in your best interests."

"By getting us tipsy on cheap champagne?!"

"I resent that," said Emma. "That was Krug, Clos du Mesnil 1995. Seven hundred and fifty dollars a bottle..."

"A nice little investment if you can't find a *real* wine," said Monet, the prospect of a snobbery contest interrupting her headache.

But Emma held the trump card: "And you were considerably more than tipsy, dear."

"I don't care if I was dancing on the tabletops-- I wasn't dancing on tabletops, was I?" Monet looked blank for a moment, then dismissed the thought. "Do you have any *concept* of how wrong that was?"

"I'm inclined to agree," said Sean. "I thought we were explorin' subtler methods these days?"

"Says the man who conned us into X-Corps," Monet grumbled, pain making her irritable enough to strike at all targets in range.

Sean drew back as though stung. "Emma... it'll never work like this."

Emma took a step back, frowning at them. All that righteous indignation gave *her* a headache.

"Don't lecture me about ethics, Sean. I teach a class on them, remember? I can tell you precisely what they're worth: Five points for each correct answer, plus the paper they're printed on, and that's *all*. While you're enjoying your pretty ethics, the students here are being endangered. Do you have any idea how many times this place has been rebuilt? We have every contractor in the tri-state area on speed dial. Children have been hurt. Children have died. I'll grant you the Academy wasn't always safe, but at least we weren't inviting every arch-nemesis from the Toad to the Slayer to ring our sodding doorbell!"

Emma trailed off, a little surprised by her own bitterness. She took a breath before meeting their eyes: "It's time for this. It's time to start over. I can't do it alone. I need your help, both of you."

Sean had been rocked back on his heels; he hemmed and hawed, thinking aloud.

Monet said, "Why didn't you just ask me like *that*?"

Emma blinked. "You would have listened?"

"Yes! As a matter of fact, I'd have agreed!"

"Huh." The edges of the White Queen's lips turned upward. "I'll have to try that next time. I'm afraid it never occurred to me."

Monet rolled her eyes. Sean sighed.

"Well... if that wee small bump in the road is smoothed over, perhaps I'll check with Henry on the state of the move..."

He was nearly bowled over by another irate former student, Jubilation Lee, whose unique sense of fashion was somewhat lacking today-- her clothes mismatched, raincoat wrinkled, hair disheveled. Despite that, she was talking very fast:

"Morning, Sean. Morning, Emma. GOOD MORNING, MONET!" she said, right in her ex-classmate's ear.

Monet recoiled, gripping her skull as though it would fall off. "Ah! Miserable little..."

"Got something for you, Emma. It's a resignation." Jubilee slapped an envelope on the White Queen's desk. "I'd give two weeks notice, but you suck, so catch you later."

She'd already turned her back when Emma said: "We had an agreement, Miss Lee. You signed a--"

"Sue me!"

"Maybe you should give her the speech," Monet suggested.

"Yes. Right." Emma cleared her throat: "Don't lecture me about ethics, Jubilation. I--"

"Sure, Emma. I won't teach you about good and evil, and you don't teach me about dressing like a--"

"Jubilation!" Sean said.

"Well, she *does*!" Jubilee stopped, turned very slowly, and lowered her shades. Bloodshot eyes glared at the White Queen. "You know what sucks? I mean, really? I thought we were gettin' to be friends. After that whole road trip (* in Uncanny #4-6), you really seemed different. I guess it was pretty dumb of me to think I could trust you, huh?"

"Well, yes," Emma admitted. "You lied to me, too. You played along with Scott's little charade."

"Yeah, but that was--"

"For the best," Emma said. "We're even now. Why don't we put this behind us?" She hesitated. "I need you."

Jubilee's manner softened a little. She shook her head. "Can't go to Massachusetts. I've got other plans."

"Happy birthday, by the way, me darlin'," Sean said quietly.

"You remembered. That's really cool. I..." Jubilee sighed. "Gotta go. Bye, Sean. Bye, Emma. GOOD-BYE, MONET!"

"Agh!" cried Monet as the small tornado swept from the room. "If I could see straight, I'd throttle her."

Sean walked over to the desk, picked up the envelope, and sighed. "Well... that's that, I suppose."

"Perhaps," said Emma. She took it from him and closed it in a desk drawer, frowning at the spot where her pupil had been. "Let's see what happens, shall we?"

****

9:17 A.M.

Jon Worthington-- formerly Jonothon Starsmore-- peered at the reflection he barely recognized, stepped back, and straightened his tie. Better. Not *good*, but better. The contact lenses still stung, though.

"This ain't going ter work."

"It will work," said Scott Summers, Cyclops, who surveyed Jon with a critical eye. "Let me hear you talk like Warren again."

Jon sighed. He was getting a little tired of this parlor trick. In a perfect American accent, he said: "Sure, Scott. What'd you like to talk about? How 'bout those Red Sox? Could they use another bowler, or what?"

"Pitcher," Scott said. "You're thinking of cricket. In baseball, they're pitchers."

"Eh, whatever."

"The accent's uncanny. How do you do that?"

He shrugged. "Lacking a mouth of me own, you might say, I remember how Warren used to move his."

"It's perfect. I'd really believe you were..."

He trailed off. Whatever he might have been thinking was hidden behind his visor, but Jon knew he and Warren Worthington had been friends for many years.

"I'm sorry," Jon said, feeling guilt he'd only felt a thousand times already.

"Forget it." Scott waved him off. "Just concentrate on convincing Mr. Childs."

They walked together toward the den of Xavier's mansion, where a nebbish little businessman had been kept waiting for almost half an hour. Scott stared straight ahead. Jon studied the floor.

"I feel a bit... dishonest," he said quietly. "What's the point? Warren left everything to his mates in the X-Men, so..."

"That would be very convenient," Scott said, "if we could prove he was dead. Unfortunately, my problem is that I have a young man who looks, talks, and-- in some ways-- even thinks like Warren. If you have an idea how we can prove that you're not him, I'll be glad to hear it."

"We could get a telepath," Jon said weakly.

"Even Jean wasn't *entirely* sure what you are. I'm sorry, Jon, but we need the funds from Worthington Industries, and legally speaking, you're as much Warren as not. For the time being-- where his lawyers are concerned-- that's who you'll be."

Jon sighed. The door to the den loomed large. "Yeh, *that* makes this easier."

"One more thing." Scott stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "It's not your fault. Don't beat yourself up for surviving."

"What would you know about it?" Jon asked, more harshly than he meant to.

"I *know*," said the Cyclops. The two stared at each other, and finally Jon nodded. He would do what was necessary. Scott stepped back. "Try to hurry him; I have places to be. Emma's called a last-minute meeting to reassess the team composition."

"What does that mean?" Jon asked.

"It means she wants to yell at me for a while."

"Ah. Best of luck, mate. If yer want to get an early start, go ahead. I'll be alright."

Scott frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeh." Jono reached for the door. "All I've got ter do is act like a stuck-up rich bloke who got everything he ever wanted. Easy-peasy."

He stepped through the door before Scott could disagree, trying to ignore the way his heart plummeted when he got his first look at the pudgy little fellow that half his mind sort of remembered.

"Ah, Mr. Childs," he said, as casually as possible. "It was good of you to meet me here. I'm sure you've heard some disturbing rumors-- the last few months have been rough. But as you can see... I'm fine."

****

10:35 A.M.

Jubilee caught up with Clarice Ferguson, the lilac mutant Blink, just as she was parting company with the dog-faced Sasquatch she called a foster father. Most people called him Sabretooth, although Jubes was partial to some of Wolvie's more colorful names for him.

She'd intended to wait until Sabretooth was gone to approach Clarice, but the pyscho stopped a few meters away and scented the air.

"C'mon out, kid. We're all pals now... right?"

Jubes grumbled to herself. It was one thing when they let the Juggernaut and the White Queen run around free on the Institute's grounds, but didn't this place have *any* standards? She stepped out of concealment, fireworks ready.

"I don't want any trouble with you."

Sabretooth laughed. "Don't worry. I had enough a' you to last a while." (* she paffed him in The Crossroads.) He sniffed again. "Had some fun last night, eh?"

"How'd you--"

"I can still smell the booze. Prissy high-class stuff, too good for the runt. If you were gonna get somebody *else* to corrupt you, you shoulda come to an expert..."

"Bite me, you freak."

"Careful what you wish for, babe." He winked. "I'll be seein' you around. Better hope you see me first."

He walked away, leering over his shoulder. Jubilee glared until he was out of sight. Then she jumped when she felt Clarice's touch.

"You two getting along?"

"Yeah, like Spider-Man an' Jonah Jameson. You actually *like* that guy?"

"Oh-- kinda sorta-- not at all. But he reminds me of somebody better." Clarice frowned. "You look like hell."

Jubes made a face. "Thanks. That's what a girl likes to hear on her special day."

"Oh, that's right, it's today!"

"Yeah, and you're missin' it. That is so not cool."

Blink winced. "Jubes... I want you to know... part of me really wanted to stay."

"Then stay! Scott can get somebody else! Come on-- I never even introduced you to the Gap!"

Her friend turned aside. It seemed like a long time before she said, "This is what I do. Go to realities and fix them. Even if I can't be an Exile now, at least I can act like one. You understand, don't you?"

Jubes sighed. "I think so. I'm gonna miss you."

"Likewise. Hey, I got you a gift, though. This is so great.." Clarice dug into her costume for a couple of slips of paper. "Check this out: Apparently they have this place where you go and you can watch DVD's, but on a really big screen, and with popcorn and stuff. Isn't that amazing?"

"Um... yeah." Jubilee said. "Moving pictures. Wicked cool."

Clarice made a face. "It's not special, is it? Sorry. Remember where I grew up. My idea of a luxury gift is... field rations."

"It's great," Jubes said, and hugged her. "Actually, it's perfect. Gives me the opening I need."

"What's that mean?"

Jubilee looked coy. "It means, I think I'm just about ready to make my move. Y'know... put Bobby out of his misery. That lost puppy-dog look in his eyes when he's near me is more than I can bear."

"Uh-huh." Clarice crossed her arms over her chest. "Jubes, I dunno... I mean, he's... and you're..."

"You think I'm too much woman for him?"

"I think he's the field leader of the X-Men! (* as of The Crossroads) I just don't want you to rush into anything..."

"C'mon, Clarice. You know me. When have I ever been impulsive?"

Blink made a sound-- SNERK!-- that can only be described as that of a lilac mutant swallowing her tongue. Then she broke out laughing.

"Yeah, yeah..." Jubilee shuffled her feet. "That would have been the time to supportively lie."

"Sorry." Clarice touched her shoulder. "Hey, maybe you're right. I'm not the relationship expert. My first serious boyfriend was Annihilus..."

"Ouch."

"Big-time ouch. So ignore me. Knock 'im dead. And Jubes?"

Jubilee frowned at this strange-looking weirdo she'd hated at first sight (in Uncanny #1)... now maybe her best friend. She wondered what remained to be said between them. Blink looked at her with those green eyes without pupils that seemed to stare in all directions at once, and said:

"Fix your hair before you ask him out. 'Cuz right now... *damn*. Seriously."

An errant strand of hair fell across Jubilee's forehead. After blowing it back into place, she conceded the point.

****

8:03 P.M. (Now)

The memory made Jubilee want to laugh *so* hard. She'd been worried about one strand of hair, really? Now she was sporting a 'do that might have been styled by weed-whacker.

She'd been mad about Clarice not sticking around for her birthday? Odds were, she'd never see another one.

She'd been worried about Bobby Drake at *all*? Where was he now, the jerk? Why couldn't he have quit being so pigheaded for about five seconds, and--

Something *growled,* not far away. Could have been a dog or a wolf. It wasn't.

Jubilee backed against the nearest tree-- fireworks, she needed fireworks! She was so tired, couldn't think straight...

"C'mon... c'mon, please... ArrrrrrAAAGH!!!"

pff-pff-PAF! The air around her lit up with bursts of energy. Not big bursts. *Little* ones, like she used to entertain her fellow mallrats with, back in L.A.. Jubilee almost collapsed with the effort, but she grinned. It wasn't much. It probably wouldn't keep her alive. At least she could do a little damage on her way out.

"Grrrrrr..."

Something crunched in the underbrush. Jubilee took a deep breath. That had been her biggest mistake, hadn't it? Underestimating Sabretooth. She'd laughed at him. She'd been *proud* of herself for standing up to him.

She thought: *Always knew my mouth would get me in trouble someday. If I'd known this time was the charm, I'd have gotten in some better zingers. Some of those were lame...*

The sounds came closer...

****

11:21 A.M. (Then)

Henry McCoy stood in the corner of his laboratory, fussing over the delicate equipment more like an expectant father than the Beast he was supposed to be. He didn't even *look* like that Beast anymore, having finally shed the fur and animalistic appearance that had been his curse these many years (as of New X-Men #4). The change was positively invigorating, and he threw himself into his work and other people's work with equal enthusiasm.

"No, no, Piotr, *these* are my samples. Leave *those* supplies for Annie... oh, careful there, son, careful... Sam, would you kindly help him with that?"

Sam Guthrie was too polite to roll his eyes at the doctor-- barely. "Doc, you really reckon there's anything *I* can get that Colossus can't handle just fine on his own?"

Piotr laughed. "Rest assured, Comrade Doktor McCoy, we will treat all this equipment as though it were our very own--"

"--whatever it is," Sam finished.

"Da. Yes. What he said."

The two younger men shuffled out the door, loaded high with gear. The other teams would be leaving presently-- returning to the various realities they'd visited since the Slayer-- and Hank himself would be moving up to Massachusetts with Emma's team, to pursue a few months of pure teaching and research. In his own estimation, he deserved that-- a normal lifestyle to go with the more normal appearance. He even had the chance of a social life again; when he'd given Trish Tilby the good news, she'd agreed to meet him for lunch.

All in all, things couldn't have been going better. And why not? If Hank McCoy, X-Man and Avenger, had not paid his dues, who had? Why shouldn't he be happy for a while?

"You're going to be bored stiff," said a new voice.

Jean-Paul Beaubier-- Northstar--stood in the doorway, his torso a patchwork of bandages. A Slayer-possessed Storm had done a number on him during the battle (* The Crossroads); for perhaps the first time in his life, Jean-Paul was moving notably slower than those around him.

Hank shrugged. "Then we shall be bored together, my fine fellow, for I could not help but notice the name 'Beaubier' inscribed above mine on the team roster.'"

Northstar made a face and gestured at his bandages. "What other good am I in this condition?"

"You could return to the business world."

"After the way I parted company with SHIELD?" Jean-Paul snorted. "If you have the proper connections, those people can be persuaded to forget, but they never forgive. I'm afraid I'm back in costume for good. Besides, I have... other business to attend. Business in which the X-Men can be of assistance."

Hank arched an eyebrow, sensing more. "And?"

"And, while I do not care much for Emma Frost, in this case, I agree with her. You people spend far too much time jaunting about on heroic quests and too little time teaching your students. Perhaps that's why so many of them have not survived to graduate with honors."

He winced. "I wouldn't say 'many'..."

"Fortunately, Doctor, we need not come to a consensus. So..." Jean-Paul sat down heavily on the other side of the room. "What the devil happened to your face?"

Hank stroked his cheek, surprised as ever by the feel of flesh there instead of fuzz. "A second chance, I think. Even... a gift."

"Beware such gifts. They usually come in the form of a large, wooden horse..."

He was about to say more, when the conversation was interrupted by an exotic, undeniably beautiful young woman who swept into the room without her usual grace... 'lurched' might have been a better word.

Hank jumped to her aid. "Good gracious, Monet! What happened to you?"

"*Frost*," Monet growled. "Tell me you have aspirin..."

He hurried to locate some, stopping when he noticed the little smirk on Jean-Paul's face. "What's funny?"

The French Canadian spread his hands. "We are all going to have such fun together, non?"

****

12:35 P.M.

A quick coiffure, a change of clothes, and about a dozen breath mints later, Jubilee felt almost human as she approached the field where Bobby Drake was training his Gold Team. She watched from a distance while Bobby used his newly honed Omega-class power to school half a dozen X-Men (* as seen in Uncanny #7) and several times had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from cheering.

Just when she was wondering whether a postgame fireworks show might seem too flashy, the practice broke up. Jubilee slid on her shades and perfected her game face as she ran to greet the conquering hero. She waved to him, trying to decide whether he was glad to see her, but a face made of ice didn't reveal much.

"Bobby! Dude-- that was awesome! *Serious* skills! 'Course, you'd have lost if *I'd* been there..."

"Of course," he smirked, reverting to flesh. "What's up, Jubes? I have about forty-five seconds before Scott's head explodes 'cause I turned my phone off for ten minutes."

Jubilee laughed. Loudly. She cursed herself; it wasn't even funny. Stay *cool*. "If you're not too busy pattin' yourself on the back, big shot, I was wondering if you had plans tonight..."

"'Course I do. I'm attending the surprise party we're totally not springing on you. Remember, you didn't hear it here first." She laughed again; he frowned. "Wow. My timing must be killer today."

Jubilee didn't blush by force of will. "Look, um, fact is, I'm not in the mood for a big party. After Warren an' Jono-- it wouldn't feel right, y'know?"

"I'm not the one to ask," Bobby said. "This whole concept of 'appropriate' escapes me."

"Well, trust me. Which brings me to these two state-of-the-art movie tickets to an actual multiplex. Highly prized in the Age of Apocalypse. You play your cards right, an' one of 'em could be yours."

Bobby stared at her for-- it had to have been half a minute before he spoke. "You and me? Like, alone?"

"Unless you'd like Wolvie to chaperon. Just don't try the 'yawn' routine-- you'd draw back a stump. Which reminds me, no funny stuff, 'cause I've got a rep to--"

Bobby cleared his throat. "So this would be a date?"

"Noooo...." Jubilee couldn't decide whether the cluelessness was cute or irritating. "September 15, 1997 is a date. This would be two consenting adult superheroes... takin' in a flick... just chillin'. Possibly with significant eye contact, but no funny stuff. Yet."

"Jubes..." he sighed. "Damn."

"Okay, fine. A *little* funny stuff, but nothing past first base. You drive a hard bargain--"

"I can't go!" Bobby said quickly, seeming to want to bolt. "I mean, thank you... but I can't."

"What, is it the team? Nova Roma wasn't built in a day. You can train 'em tomorrow."

"Jubes--" He reached out to her, but stopped short of touching. "I'm a lot older than you."

Jubilee frowned. "You are? Huh. I guess I missed that, since y'know, you act like twelve."

"Well, that's over." Blue eyes stared up at the sky. "It's time I took responsibility."

"Dude, geez-- has Cyclops like drained your brain or somethin'? Hey, Bobby! Earth to Bobby! It's me, remember? Jubilee, who--"

"--who I care about too much to do something stupid."

She glared at him. He was serious. Jubilee felt her headache coming back, but absolutely denied there was any disappointment attached to it. "Yeah. Stupid. So, that vision you saw (* in Uncanny #3-6) with you and me... that was stupid too?"

"I shouldn't have told you about that." Bobby shook his head. "It was a long time in the future. I've got the time, Jubes-- I don't think I age anymore. And you..."

"Yeah," she said, turning. "Guess I'll make an appointment, then. You can care about me someday-- when you get around to it."

"Jubes!"

She was halfway gone already. He probably called her name a couple more times; Jubilee didn't answer. She was busy pretending not to cry.

****

8:05 P.M. (Now)

A flash of something in the underbrush. Jubilee tensed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I thought I saw a puddy tat..."

*Crunch.* Right in front of her.

"Aw, crap, I did see a freakin' puddy tat!"

The huge, dark shape burst out of the trees, too quick to see, too fierce to stop. Jubilee dropped and rolled, tossing a burst over her shoulder-- PAF! She heard a yelp, but didn't know if she'd stopped him. Then his claws raked across her back, and she knew she hadn't.

"AARRRRGH!" Pain focused Jubilee's power. Face-down in the dirt, she could feel herself glowing, and then-- BOOM! Knocked her attacker for a loop.

*Serves you right! Why d'you pick on me, huh? You an' Mystique an' the Slayer an' Pryde goin' ballistic-- do I have like a 'Kick-Me' sign on my back?*

Now *that* was decently witty, she thought. Unfortunately she hadn't said it aloud. That burst had taken the last of her strength. She scrambled for a second in the dust, then collapsed, her consciousness fading. Her thoughts were a jumble:

*Mom and Dad... how could you leave me all alone like that?*

*Wolvie... did I ever really tell you how much you meant to me?*

*Bobby... you're a dweeb.*

The last thing she heard was the low, guttural snarl as her attacker circled around again.

****

1:15 P.M. (Then)

Jubilee didn't stop running until she was almost lost. Almost, because she'd practically grown up prowling these grounds with Wolvie; she couldn't get lost here if she tried. But she was far enough out of the way that she could pretend she was lost. Jubilee sank down at the base of a tree and choked out tears of embarrassment, glad she could do this in private.

Then she smelled that damned familiar smoke. She looked up-- not very far-- at the stocky man in the T-shirt and cowboy hat, chewing on a cigar.

"Go 'way, huh?"

The man called Wolverine knelt beside her. "Can't, darlin'. My team's ready to go. It was now or never to see ya, and I sure as hell wasn't gonna skip without wishin' you a happy birthday."

"Some birthday." Jubilee sniffled-- it sounded depressingly babyish. "You really gotta go?"

"Yup. Left a friend back in that other timeline." (* see X-Force)

"Just a friend?" Jubilee's glance was more suspicious than it should have been, and she knew it. "Y'know, there's a dumb rumor goin' around about you an' Betsy..."

He frowned. "I think that's my business, darlin'."

"It's true, isn't it?" Wolvie had dark, angry eyes that didn't reflect much, but they couldn't hide anything from Jubilee. "It's true!"

Wolverine sighed. "What d'you want me to say?"

"It should start 'I'm not really leavin' again so I can go screw around with Ninja Barbie!'"

"Jubilation!" he snapped, in the tone other people heard all the time, and she almost never did. "That really what's botherin' you, darlin'?"

It didn't help. Jubilee could be jealous of *her* Wolvie at the best of times, but the fact that it was Betsy-- whom she hadn't quite liked from the first moment she and Logan had pulled off that rescue from the Hand-- made it worse. That made it almost another betrayal.

She couldn't look at him. "It's everything. You an' Bobby an' Clarice leaving an' Paige an' what happened to Jono an' Emma being... Emma. It's not fair. We fought so hard. We oughta get a happy ending."

He brushed back a lock of her hair. "Story ain't over yet."

"He thinks I'm a kid, Wolvie. Just a stupid kid." Jubilee looked up suddenly. "Take me with you."

Logan shook his head. "No. No way, darlin'."

"C'mon, you an' me, out to rescue Betsy? It'll be just like the old days! It's not like stayin' here's any less dangerous--"

"My team's at war," he said. "We do things you don't want ta know about."

"You let *Kitty* go," she murmured, petulant.

"Kitty had no choice. An' she was trained for this kinda thing years ago."

"I can learn, Wolvie! I can do anything she can do!"

"Darlin'... I know you *could* do it." His hand brushed Jubilee's cheek. "That's why I ain't gonna teach you how."

Jubilee sighed. She hadn't really expected a yes. She studied the ground. "'Least if I went, I wouldn't have to face him again..."

"If that's why you want to go, you *are* bein' a child. C'mon... up an' at 'em. They think they're gonna hide the cake 'till tonight, but there's no way they're slippin' it past my nose. I'll split a piece with ya before we leave."

"I... thanks, Wolvie, but I need... I gotta get it together. I can't go back like this."

Wolverine nodded once, squeezed her arm, and straightened. "Alright, girl. Take your time. I'll wait for ya back there."

"You'll wait? Really?"

"Yeah. I promise." He half-smiled. "I'm waitin' on a hell of an explanation for why you smell like my last kegger."

"I hate your nose *so* much."

Wolvie tipped the brim of his hat and disappeared into the woods, and Jubilee felt better. A little, anyway. She dried her eyes, smoothed her raincoat, and started to wonder if she had time to locate a really *killer* outfit for the party-- something to make Drake eat his heart out.

That's when she first heard the growling behind her.

"This better not be who I think it is, 'cuz right now I'd *love* to paff him into next--"

She saw two shining eyes in the middle of the foliage. Then something hairy and heavy fell on her, its jaws clamping down on her arm. Jubilee almost blacked out from pain. Rallying, she screamed and paffed it with all her might. That bought her a couple of seconds to stagger away, but reaching the next clearing, she realized her theory that she couldn't get lost was over-optimistic...

****

Logan nearly bumped into Bobby Drake when he was on his way out of the woods and the Iceman was on his way in. Drake was visibly nervous; Logan figured he ought to be.

"Logan! Hey! You haven't seen--"

He caught the Iceman's sleeve and dragged him back the way he'd come. "Let her alone, Drake. You done enough, don'tcha think?"

"Hey, I-- you heard." Bobby stopped short. He looked Logan in the eye, which was something. "I didn't lead her on, I swear."

"Nah, you're a big hero. Everybody knows you're hot stuff these days, right? Maybe you figured her feelings didn't matter."

"That's not true!" Bobby took a step toward Logan, but stopped. "Look-- Logan-- I did see a future where Jubilee and I were-- well, almost together. It might never happen. But it was a good future, and I'm not gonna do anything now to screw it up. I'm *not*."

"You're an honorable man, huh?"

"That's right!"

He set his jaw, eyes pleading for understanding. Logan nodded sagely, reached up to pat him on the back, and then-- SNIKT! Put a claw straight through his face, in a way that would have mutilated a baseline human. With his fancy new powers, Drake just turned to ice, morphed away from the claws, and reformed.

"Ow! You *psycho*--" For a second he looked like he might fight back, but the look in the Wolverine's eye stopped him cold--

"Is there any doubt in your mind, boy, that if she gets hurt again, I will find a way to kill you?"

Bobby swallowed hard. He shook his head.

"I know you're gonna stay real honorable, Mr. Team Leader. *Sir.*"

Logan bit down hard on his cigar and walked away. Bobby turned to follow-- and then they heard the scream.

Logan was off like a shot, but even he couldn't match Drake, who turned to vapor and *flowed* toward the source of the sound. By the time the Wolverine arrived, moments later, Bobby was already kneeling beside a spot on the ground-- a spot slick with blood. He turned and held something up to the light-- a ragged patched of yellow material, stained with red. A patch that had been *clawed*.

"Find her," Bobby whispered, but Logan was already on it:

There were a lot of scents in the air, mingled together, some of them strange. So many that Logan's nose was having trouble making sense of them-- then he keyed on one in particular, and saw red.

"*Creed*..."

****

8:04 P.M. (Now)

The afternoon turned out to hold some excitement; the Scarlet Witch had an episode down in the Infirmary and then some fugitives showed up. (* see Uncanny #7). But to Bobby, it paled beside the hunt for a young Chinese American who was supposed to be enjoying her birthday.

He'd nearly paced a rut along one wall of the mansion when Wolverine came out of the woods for the tenth time and shook his head. Bobby made a reinforced ice fist and smashed it into the wall. Logan clasped him on the shoulder.

The door a little distance away opened, and Emma Frost stepped out. "Anything?"

"No," Bobby said.

"We're doing everything we can. Sean, Monet, and Jonothon are in the air as we speak. Jean and I have swept the area, but we can't seem to pick up anything distinct. Cecilia's also standing by in the Infirmary."

"What about Hank?"

"We can't find him, either."

"He was spending his last day in town with Trish Tilby," said a new voice. Monet St. Croix touched down in the midst of the others. "I suppose they must be getting along. Pity, but there's no accounting--"

"Jubilee," Bobby said, getting in her face.

"I didn't find her," Monet said. Then she gave a fierce grin. "*But*..."

****

Victor Creed crouched beside a path on Xavier's grounds, examining a leafy branch dotted with red. He brought his finger up to his mouth and tasted. Sweet. No wonder the runt liked her. He was getting close now--

He sniffed. New scents, three of them. One barely there, another coming in fast--

WHAM! He was knocked off his feet by a dive-bombing Monet. Creed rolled and came up with claws ready.

"Hiya, Creed," said a voice behind him. The intangible scent became stronger as Bobby Drake solidified. "Why don't you chill for a few?"

An ice-cold blast struck him dead-center, binding him up in shackles of solid ice. Creed struggled and swore. Monet grabbed a handful of his hair and *pulled*, forcing him to meet her eyes.

"We want Jubilee."

"Missin' the runt's mascot? What's that to me? Go to hell."

Monet smiled. "Let me make this clear: NOBODY--"

She swung from the heels. WHAM!

"--disrespects that girl--"

A roundhouse left. POW!

"--but ME!"

BAM! Creed went flying into a pile of rocks, hitting hard enough to break his bonds. He snarled and lunged, intent on cutting up that pretty face...

SNIKT! Two sets of adamantium claws came through his chest, puncturing both lungs. Creed spat up bloody foam and gasped for breath, but the claws were already out and his lungs healing. Meanwhile Logan stepped around and sliced his prosthetic arm clean off. Sensors in the arm were rigged to transmit just like regular nerve endings. Creed howled--

The claws jabbed his throat, drawing blood but stopping short of cutting the windpipe.

"This time you die," Logan snarled, barely seeing him. "You *die* for this, you ba--"

"Logan!" Bobby said. "If you kill him, we don't find Jubilee."

"Fine. He talks. *Then* I kill him."

"kkkkk--" Creed struggled. Logan eased up long enough for him to heal a bit. He gasped. "You gotta fight me like this, half-pint? Three on one? I expected better."

"This ain't a damn GAME!" Logan slashed again. Creed caught his arm with his remaining hand and they hit the ground, wrestling...

"I didn't cut her," Creed hissed. "I'm lookin' for her, same as you."

"Why would you do that?" Monet asked.

"'Cause..." He looked away, feeling ridiculous. "Clarice asked me to keep an eye on her. Crazy, I know. Tell ya the truth, I thought it might be a good chance t' do *this*. Only I didn't. I just caught scent of her blood, an' I been trackin' her."

"Oh, so you're a good guy?" Bobby said. "That explains everything. Go ahead and kill him, Logan."

"Wait," said the Wolverine, sitting back on his haunches. "He's tellin' the truth."

"What?!" said Bobby and Monet together.

"If he'd killed Jubes under my nose, he wouldn't deny it. He'd be braggin' about it."

"Knew you'd understand, runt." Creed grinned. "That'd be Christmas morning for me."

Logan stabbed him in the chest with both claws. Creed threw him off, ready to kill all three of these punks. Bobby Drake raised his hands for an ice-cold finisher. Creed laughed, wondering whether he'd mind if they finally killed him.

Then an Angel swept down into the clearing, knocking him and Drake both down with a sweep of wings. He was freakier than the rest of them put together-- smelled like Worthington but moved like Starsmore. He glared at Creed with his glowing eyes, then dismissed him.

"Look what I found," he said to the others. He was cradling Jubilation Lee in his arms.

****

11:45 PM

Jubilee awoke surrounded by friends-- well, friends plus Sabretooth; the one-armed predator growled at people from the corner of the room. Almost every X-Man Jubilee knew stood between her and him, all wearing dopey grins. She felt like Dorothy at the end of 'The Wizard of Oz.'

"I'm very upset with you," Scott Summers said, but he cracked a smile. "You delayed the departure of three whole teams."

"Sorry..."

Logan, Bobby, and Clarice were nearest the bed, one holding each other and one tousling her hair. Jubilee shook them all off.

"Okay, okay, okay! Geez, enough! This is so not a big deal! X-Men get almost disembowled all the--" She trailed off when she saw her left arm, which was bandaged from the shoulder to the wrist. "Great... I'm like mummified! *Not* cool for the first day of school! The kids are gonna think I'm one a' those superhero zombies..."

Emma cleared her throat from the back of the room. "Do I take that to mean--"

"Yeah, like I'm goin' anywhere else *now*."

"Who did this to you, Jubes?" Bobby asked. "How did he stay hidden so long?"

"I dunno. I never got a good look. I figured it was Sabretooth."

"No such luck," the killer said, and flashed his fangs.

"Mr. Creed..." Clarice warned.

"I reckon he scared it off, actually," Jon said. "You all weren't scuffling that far from where I found her. I don't know why else it would have run. I certainly didn't do anything."

"You didn't see it, then?" Cyclops asked.

Jon shook his head. "Just the tail end of something big. Gordon Bennett, Jubes, yer do make interesting friends."

"Yeah-- but good ones." Jubilee looked around at the room. "I'm cool, everybody. Really. I just have one thing to say to all of you."

"What's that, darlin'?" Wolvie asked.

"Anybody who's in here two seconds from now better be bearing gifts!"

There ensued laughter and cake and presents and then somebody struck up a chorus of 'Happy Birthday.' (Bobby, naturally, switched to novelty lyrics in mid-verse. Jubes decided twelve years old might have been an optimistic appraisal.) Finally, Cecilia shooed the X-Men out so that her patient could get some rest.

Jon Worthington hung back. He caught Cecilia's eye; she nodded and went to check on the other patients. Jubilee and her rescuer stared for a moment, across the darkened room.

"Thanks, Jon. You rock."

"Eh." He shrugged, looking uncomfortable when the massive wings behind his back followed suit. "I'm glad you'll be with us in Snow Valley, Jubes. Makes a bloke feel less lonely... havin' his old mates about."

"Yeah." Jubilee looked away.

"You're upset about Bobby, aren't yer?"

"How'd you--" She sighed. "Can I ask you somethin'? You don't have to answer."

"You're the bithday girl."

"Well-- the age difference between me an' Bobby is almost the same as between you-- I mean Warren-- an' Paige. Nobody minded *that*, right?"

He scoffed. "*Everybody* minded! It's why they never got ter be happy! It made them different in every possible way..."

"Okay, fine, but me an' Bobby are more alike than they ever were! So what's *our* problem, huh?"

"Alike's not a cure-all either. Warren and Betsy were alike." Jon stared at a spot just past her head. "D'you think you're the only one ter beg Logan for a spot on his team? My head's *so* buggered. The thought of her in danger is... hard to bear. That's when I have ter shake myself an' remember what I'm feeling ain't real. No matter how good the past-- or the future might be-- we've got ter live *now*, with what's real."

Jubilee made a face. "So... different doesn't work, an' alike doesn't work? Sounds like your advice is: Love sucks."

"Yeh, basically. I wish I had a better, luv. For both of us." He closed his eyes and sighed. "You should rest."

"Hey, Jon?"

He stopped at the door.

"I'm glad you're with us, too. An' I think you should go ahead an' use Archangel. It sounds cool."

He frowned. "Tell yer the truth, luv, I don't think he'd want me ter have the name."

"He would."

Jon half-smiled, nodded, and left. Jubilee settled back in her bed. As it turned out, she'd had worse birthdays. Just... not many of them.

****

Next Day
7:47 A.M.

Hank McCoy awoke on top of his bedsheets, still in the previous day's clothes, with a pounding head that made him wish Monet hadn't absconded with the last of his aspirin.

He dragged himself into the bathroom, thinking he and Trish must have had a better time than he'd anticipated. Then, staring at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror, he began to realize he didn't remember *meeting* with Trish, and panicked.

He ran to his cel phone and found he had a message waiting. He pressed the button:

*BEEP!*

"Hank? It's Trish. Listen, I've been here at the restaurant for an hour, and it looks like you're not gonna show. I-- I guess maybe I deserve this after what happened between us, but I didn't think you'd-- *sigh*. The hell with it. On the off chance there's a good explanation, maybe you could give me a call?"

*BEEP!*

Hank frowned, trying to remember... something, trying to think. He'd never experienced blackouts before, drunken ones or otherwise. He brought his oversized hands up to rub at his eyes...

That's when he saw the blood under his fingernails.

He hurried down to his lab, nearly bumped into Jean-Paul en route, and learned that there had been some excitement the previous night. Something had attacked Jubilee-- some kind of beast.

When Jean-Paul was out of sight, Hank ran the rest of the way and locked himself in. Fortunately his microscope wasn't packed yet. He already knew-- or suspected-- what he'd find with it: A perfect match between the skin and blood samples under his nails and the ones from Jubilee's last physical.

Hank pulled back and leaned heavily on the lab table. "Oh, my stars and garters... What now?"

END

In Issue #2: "First Day of School"
See the other Eternity series: Uncanny X-Men, New X-Men, X-Force, & X-Factor, online now!
Up Next: X-Force #7: "When They Came Marching Home"