Title: Two Soldiers
Fandom: X-Men
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Jubilee (mentions past Skin/Jubilee and Synch/Jubilee)
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Jubilee reflects on a day that marks a big change for her, and the X-Men.
Word Count: 1,791
Written For: Fan FlashWorks 456. Yellow and X-Men 15 4. Adult
Warnings: Contains Christian Scripture and some religious thoughts some may find offensive
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Marvel Comics and Disney, not the author, and are used without permission.
Author's Note: MUCH THANKS!!!!!! to our lovely mods for allowing me to post this lately. Work has been insane, and I accidentally posted the story to my own comm, even using the FFW Subject formatting! LOL Thank you again, dear mods!!!! <3 <3 <3







She smooths down the fading, yellow leather of her favorite article of clothing. She strokes the aged material, her own features drawing down in deep, silent contemplation. The old jacket definitely shows more than its fair share of wear and tear, but then so does she. With the life she'd led, it's no wonder they both look pretty rough these days. There had been a time, Jubilee remembers, when she had thought she would never show her age.

There had been a time before then, she smirks, self-depreciating humor sparking in her blue eyes, that she had not shown any sign of her age, and that had had nothing to do with her short-lasting Vampirism. She had been the youngest of the X-Men for so long. Maybe it had been in part because of all of the world-weary and -weathered adults surrounding her, but back in those days, she had rarely looked more than thirteen at best. It had taken leaving the team to start showing her actual age, and not even just going to Gen. X had done it. Escaping from Bastion in the desert during O:ZT had made her both feel and look older, but then...

Had she ever really felt her age? Jubilee wondered, biting her bottom lip and still absently stroking the leather. It seemed like she had always felt either younger or older than her actual years. She had been older when she'd first had to fight and fend for herself on the streets of LA. Perhaps it had been, at least in part, due to that time period of being a live-in mallrat that had made her want to chase the years she'd lost after her parents' brutal murders. She chuckles to herself, remembering how Big B used to bitch because of the late hours she'd go by his room, skating and singing at the top of her lungs. She'd come close to accidently meeting one of his bullets many a night, but he'd never meant her any harm. He was just a weary soldier, short on temper and shorter on peace.

They were all soldiers, she thought solemnly, her smile fading. It had been LA that had done it, she decided. The gangs in LA had killed her parents when she was still a child and had no one to turn to for help. They'd made her older then, abruptly ending her real childhood along with her parents' lives, and they'd made her older again, making her an essential widow far too soon when she and Angie had gone to LA after Gen. X had disbanded. She had never wanted to stay. She'd tried her best to talk him into leaving and going back to the X-Men, in going anywhere --

That wasn't entirely true, she thought, tears beginning to flood her vision. She'd wanted to go back to the X-Men, to go to the one home she'd ever really had other than the mall, which had never, in truth, been fit to be an actual home for anybody. She'd wanted to go home to Xavier's School, to her family, to the people who had understood her better than her parents ever could have even if they had lived. She bit her now-trembling lip and tried to force the tears from her eyes even as she allowed herself to remember.

Angelo had never been one for the superhero life, despite his huge heart. He'd been able to love everybody, forgive anyone anything, but he'd still be ghetto through and through. They'd been making a difference in the ghetto too, and she'd known that was going to piss people off. It had, and it had led to the effing "Friends" of Humanity being turned onto them. Her shoulders shook, the trembling passing from her bottom lip into her shoulders and from there, throughout her entire body.

Yeah, that had been what had aged her so much. She'd tried to pretend like everything was normal after the massacre. But how could it be? People weren't meant to hang on crosses. It wasn't right to be killed like a martyr, or to have your family and friends be slaughtered so cruelly. She wondered, though, what those very bastards who had hung them on the crosses would think if they knew they had risen from those same crosses. She wasn't Jesus. None of them were, and no matter how hard they tried to be, there was only one Savior.

She was sure it would kick those self-same Friends of Humanity members who were undoubtedly big in their family churches right in the butt. They'd put them there. They could've killed them in so many ways, but they'd chosen to hang them on crosses like their Savior. Like her Savior. What was the Elf was always saying? Jubilee tried to push pass the sorrow threatening to overtake her to remember the lines Kurt was always quoting in Revelations.

"Not everyone vho says to Me, 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter ze kingdom of Heaven, but he who does the will of Mein Father in Heaven." Of them all, Kurt had felt the greatest sting of hatred from those who flocked to the very same religion he now preached. "On zat day, many vill say to me, 'Lord, Lord, did we not prophesy in your name, and cast out demons in your name, and do many mighty works in your name? And then will I declare to them, 'I never knew you; depart from me, you workers of lawlessness. '"

Or something like that, she thought, almost smiling through her tears. Those lines of Scripture had always seemed to get underneath the Elf's blue fur as well. She could practically picture his forked tail whipping back and forth behind him in the pulpit. She's not gone often to his church, but the last she'd checked, it, and he, were still doing well. Those Friends of Humanity who had murdered her Angelo had been no more of God or Jesus than the Marauders who had left Logan for dead, also on a cross.

"Ya know," a deep voice spoke unexpectedly from her doorway, spooking Jubilee into betraying herself by jumping. She glowered over her shoulder at the Cajun, but he just kept talking, as though he'd not noticed how he had shaken her out of her reverie at all.
"Remy could take you to the store where Remy always picks up a new trench. Dey're de only ones who keep my style these days. I'm sure they could order you a yellow one."

"No." Jubilee shook her head, picking up the old jacket and shaking it out. She slipped into its long, familiar length and closed her eyes for a moment. She's worn this same jacket so much throughout the years. She wore it when she was in LA, both times, through Generation X and many runs with the X-Men. The trench held so many memories, and as she closed her eyes, many of them flashed through her mind. She'd sung and rocked Shogo to sleep many times while wearing this jacket. She'd taught lectures, saved the world, and done more things than she'd ever thought she would, back in those early days at the mall, all while wearing this same jacket. She'd worn this jacket when Angelo kissed her and held her, when she battled Robin, the Batboy from that one universe, and when she'd chased playfully after Everett. She'd worn it on so many adventures with Logan, and with the X-Men.

It's almost like her best friend, having stayed loyally with her throughout so very much. Opening her eyes, she turned slowly, spotted the familiar cowboy hat perched on one of her bedposts, and was outright grinning again by the time she turned to face Gambit. "It'll do just fine."

"Don' wanna replace it, eh?" Remy's red eyes seemed to flick over her with understanding. "I get it. Remy don' blame you at all." He pulled out a pack of cards from an inside pocket on his own trench. Jubilee recognized the dog-eared deck immediately as Remy shuffled the cards. "You ready, chere?"

She shook her head. "I never thought I'd see the day when I'd be leadin' the team. You know, you and Rogue could -- "

"No, chere. I'm here for de first week. You know Rogue and I are needed at our base in de Big Easy. We're makin' a difference there, Jubilee, a difference amongst kids and mutants who nobody else reaches -- " Misunderstanding the look in her eyes, he continued, "De Guilds are actually gettin' along dese days."

"So I've heard." She flicked her collar up and moved toward him. Bishop had told her this day would come, but she'd never really believed him. Deep down, she'd never wanted to believe him. But Gambit, and Bishop, both are right. She and Angelo had been making a difference in LA with kids not unlike the Swamp Rats and country bumpkins Gambit and Rogue are helping now. They had been making a difference. They had been doing good for their other people, for the children they had helped had not all been mutants but had all needed someone to help and guide them. Just like the little boy who will be so proud to see her cut the ribbon today on the new school.

The ribbon was ceremonial, something Xavier's had rarely seen, but Kitty and Ororo were right. Their people needed a reason to celebrate. They would celebrate today, and tomorrow the work would resume. The work she had so often thought was over with, at least for her. But old soldiers didn't quit, she thought, glancing back to the cowboy hat on her bed. Times changed; locations changed. Some people changed, while others just got older. But the work, the mission, was always there.

It was time, she thought, shutting her door with a grin, to piss off the enemy again. It was time to take a stand, to help, and to fight again. "You're gonna do fine, chere." Remy's voice, when he spoke this time, was soft, filled with concern and reassurance.

Jubilee nodded. She'd like to think there was somebody better for the job, but it was her turn. And she was never, ever alone. She thought of Angie, and of Logan, and of the Professor and Jean and Scott, and of Everett and CynJen and even Gaia as she walked through the old corridors with the Cajun. It was remarkable how they always managed to build the schools to look so much like the ones that had come before. It was time, and Jubilee would serve boldly, and proudly, as she always had. And this time, she vowed, the enemy would not win.




The End