Lullaby

---

"Jubilee, you're a good student and you have good grades." Emma Frost's voice was as smooth and crisp as ice. She lifted the essay marked with a red 'F'. "This is very uncharacteristic of you." She watched as Jubilee fiddled with her fingers and her fireworks, making tiny sparks, her expression and thoughts unreadable. "Care to tell me what has been occupying so much of your time that you have stopped studying?"

Jubilee stared at her hands, biting her bottom lip. She had known that she was going to be dragged into Frosty's office. It was inevitable, only a matter of time - she was always dragged in here, although the reasons were different this time. She used to be lectured on her rebellious behavior before. This time, it was her grades.

She had always taken great pride in her grades. It was one of the very few things she took seriously - keeping her grades up would help ensure that she could return to the Xmen as an active member. But they had slipped - majorly - and she felt ashamed.

"It's nothing. I'll do better." She mumbled.

"Jubilee," Her voice demanded her attention.

Jubilee looked up reluctantly to see Emma's disappointed expression, and she winced at the sight.

"Do these red Fs splattered across all of your studies have anything to do with your time in the prison? If it is, I want to know." Her voice was grave, stressing the importance of the subject.

"It's nothing, I was just slacking. I'm sorry. Can I go now?"

Emma dropped the essay on her desk, hand on her hip. "I want to see a full grade improvement by two week's time. You understand me?"

"Sure thing, Ma'am." She said, rising out of her seat and slinking out the door.

She put her hand to her forehead. That was close.

She collapsed on her bed, the springs groaning under her weight. "I'm just so frickin' tired," she said out loud to no one in particular. All she wanted to do was sleep. In fact, that didn't seem like such a bad idea. Why not? She was already on her bed. She would just nap for a few hours, then she would study.

She opened her eyes to look at the blank, white cieling. She felt terrible when she was in the office with Emma. Something about the way she looked at her made Jubilee so uneasy. She shut her eyes and rolled over, stuffing her face deeply into her pillow. She had felt as if she was a child being scolded for doing something wrong. And at that moment, with the expression Emma Frost gave her still fresh in her mind, she was reminded of her mother.


~

Bears and horses ran on the wall behind her in yellow and pink colors, cheerful and fantastic. An Lee had painted them herself when she was pregnant with her daughter. But the brightly-painted princess room felt more like a jail to the little girl at this moment.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

The little girl looked down, ashamed, playing with her toes. She hated that look her mother gave her just now - full of disappointment. For someone as young as Jubilation Lee, it felt like the end of the world.

"I'm very disappointed in you, Jubilation. You know better than that. At least I thought I taught you better." Her mother stood tall and beautiful above her, like a marble statue, facial features angelic, as if she had been carved by god himself.

Fat, plump tears ran down her chubby cheeks. "I'm sorry, mommy!" She cried, curling up into an almost-five-year-old ball, hands on her feet. She made herself as small as possible, as if she could become one with her panda bear chair or disappear under it.

"Why did you keep this from me?"

"I'm sorry," she repeated, not wanting to explain because she felt ashamed. Any reason she gave her mother wouldn't be good enough. It may be good enough for her mother, but it wasn't good enough for Jubilee.

Her mother let out an exhausted sigh. "You know better than to hide things. What have I told you about secrets?"

~

Jubilee's eyes blinked opened slowly from her nap. She was awake now, her soul filled with peace and tranquility. Her mother always had that effect on her, so it wasn't surprising that dreaming of her would have the same effect.

Her mother had always been her undying source of wisdom. And in that dream she felt so real that it almost made Jubilee feel that she was still alive.The dream had been so true to life that she could still smell the plastic of her Barbie doll's hair.

She rubbed her eyes slowly and glanced at the clock. Ten-fifteen. She had better hit the books. She threw her legs over her bed and stood, grabbing her backpack and unzipping it. "What made me dream of that?" She mumbled at the piece of her own ancient history her mind had decided to bring to the fore.

She plopped her butt on the floor and flipped through her textbook. "What doth the mighty Algebra book have in store for me?" She said in a low, masculine genie voice, and bent to her work.

---.

12:00 am

Paige covered her ears and scoffed, rolling over. The two lovebirds next door were making a racket, their bed frame slamming against the wall. They could get detention or kicked out of school if Melissa's boyfriend was caught in the girl's dorm.

She put her pillow over her head to try to drown out the rhythmic noise. She could just complain to Emma and the situation would be resolved there. But then again, Paige wasn't a tattle-tale and didn't care to set up that kind of a reputation.

Great. Now they were wailing. "Oh! Oh!" Melissa screamed repeatedly, in rhythm with the loud banging against the wall. Paige wanted to barf in disgust. She may still be a virgin thanks to Jono's romantic constipation, but she still knew a faker when she heard one.

She rolled out of her bed, indignant. She had a test in the morning. She didn't need this. Dammit, was everyone in this college having sex but me? She thought to herself grimly. Not that it mattered. She needed sleep and Melissa was going to shut up, one way or the other.

She swung her door open, went next door, and bashed her fists loudly. The noise in the room stopped. She shouted at the top of her lungs, the way she had heard Sean do it when something had thoroughly pissed him off. "Be quiet! I am trying to sleep! There's a hot tub in the gym and it is free and much less noisy!" She slapped her hand on the door for emphasis, then stomped back into her room and slammed the door.

When she went back into her room, the noise had stopped. Either she had ruined the mood or they found a more quiet way to express their love for each other, it didn't matter. Finally paige could sleep. She pulled her still-warm covers around her. She heard Monet's words her mind. ~You're far too nice. I would have broken down their door if they continued for too long. Still, I am very much obliged.~ Paige snorted a response, too tired to carry on a conversation, then closed her eyes to sleep.

---

1:00 am

She was hungry, so terribly hungry. She hadn't eaten in days. When would the guards come in with food? Did they forget she was down there?

She could feel her ribs begin to jut out, and she began to panic. If she didn't get food soon, she would waste away. She had to get out of there, had to escape! But how? She was trapped!

When she looked down at her body, it was a sickly skeleton without any flesh or organs. She felt fear grip her heart at knowing any minute she would die, die of starvation, die in this stinkhole. Escape! She had to escape!

Her body jerked awake, and she lifted her head, her ruled college paper sticking to her cheek. She instantly jumped to her feet, papers falling around her, panic gripping her heart. Food. She had to get some food!

Her body wasn't even hungry, but her mind said she was. She grabbed the multi-vitamin horse pills from her dresser. She opened the bottle and spilled its contents. She grabbed a handful with one hand and crunched on them, even with their bitter taste, her other hand clinging to the bottle as if letting go meant certain death.

She swallowed, the terrible taste of the multi-vitamin breaking through her hysteria and bringing her back into the world of the present. She swallowed the last bit of gross multi-vitamin. Her breathing slowed. Her body began to relax. She curled up into a little ball on the floor, clutching the multivitamin like it was her lifeline. She drifted off to sleep again, the nightmares sure to follow.

---

At the same time and no farther than three rooms down, Monet fell out of her bed. She had been rudely awakened from what she assumed was a violent nightmare. The nightmare had already fled from her consciousness once she had awakened, without a trace or memory to recover it. The only thing that remained was a rapid heartbeat that was already beginning to slow down.

She tried to summon the nightmare from her psyche. Something about starving...? She couldn't remember anything else. The nightmare had been successfully purged by her own mind.

She crawled back into her bed and laid her head on her pillow that was as soft as goose down. It was a strange nightmare - usually she could remember dreams with vivid clarity. This nightmare almost didn't even feel like her own. No matter. She closed her eyes to sleep once more.

---


The next morning brought a fresh nightmare, this one worse than the last.

It was Wolverine's torture, only this time Jubilee was in the same room with him. Sometimes she was watching him get beaten by the executioner, and sometimes she was the one inflicting the damage. The whip. The chisel. The scalpel. She did those things to him, listening to him scream and her screaming with him, feeling every pain she inflicted on his battered body. It was by far the most terrifying nightmare that, once she had awakened, had her running to the bathroom.

This time she did make it to the toilet. She didn't have anything in her stomach to throw up, but she heaved several times, spitting and sputtering, her saliva thick and disgusting.

She wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet, rising to her feet on shaky legs. The images of the torture was already fading away, and she was thankful. Damn, those nightmares had to stop soon, else she was going to go crazy or blow something up.

While standing there, looking in the bathroom mirror, she considered telling Emma about the nightmares. She looked terrible. Her eyes were swollen from exhaustion. Her eyes looked haunted and sorrowful. Would it be so bad if she shared a little of her pain with her headmistress? Lighten the load she felt so heavy on her shoulders?

She had been so adamant about not telling her until now. Why? Because telling her would admit that being in the prison had hurt her? Because it would prove that she wasn't unbreakable? But no one was unbreakable; so why did she feel that she had to protect that false image?

Why not tell her? She thought. Was it so terrible for the White Queen to know that she had nightmares? Besides, if she told her, perhaps it would get Emma off her back about her grades.

She looked down at her watch. Telling her about the nightmares would have to wait, though. She had ten minutes before watercolor class started. She opened the door and took two steps out the door when another wave of nausea slammed into her. She staggered back into the bath room and retched.

---

Twenty minutes later...

As Jubilee entered the class room, all student eyes fell on her momentarily. Then their eyes slowly traveled back to their painting subject. Mr. Rowan walked behind his students, observing their work with an experienced, critical eye. He nodded in approval at some students and offered suggestions with others.

The air was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Jubilee ignored the looks the students gave her as she sat down for art class. She was painting plastic fruit again, a topic she found to be positively boring.

She had been late by ten minutes, too pre-occupied with being bent over the toilet to get to class on time. She was beginning to wonder if she came down with the flu, even though she didn't feel like she had a fever. But she did have nightmares every time she was sick...

"You're late, Jubilee." said Monet, who swished her brush, creating a bold yellow stroke, the beginning shape of a far-too-yellow plastic pineapple. "Look, there's an apple on the table. Why don't you paint me one? You know how much I love them."

Jubilee's nose wrinkled at the personal attack. She certainly acted like she enjoyed apples when she was in Penance's body. And no matter what Monet said, she never treated her like a favorite horse. Girls didn't have water fights with horses and stand by their hospital bed when their own diamond-hard skin was killing them.

She couldn't think up anything good to throw back at her insult-wise, so she resorted to the classics. "Fuck you." She opened her backpack and pulled out her supplies. She wasn't in the mood to banter to Monet. She wasn't even in the mood to get out of bed.

"Miss Lee," Said Mr. Rowan, walking up beside her. "I will not tolerate that kind of language in my class. Say that again and I'll send you to detention." Jubilee snorted, detention not an uncommon element in her life. She was not intimidated by it in the slightest.

She was good at artwork, so she didn't even try to capture the realism of the object in front of her. She only got an F in the class because she wasn't present, having been too tired to wake up that early. Now she was back, and she was sure to punch out the As in no time.

As far as art was concerned, she had 'considerable talent' as Terror had once told her so many years ago. Why bother trying when not trying would get her the same grade? It was just wasted energy. She made a lazy stroke with her brush, the color blue dripping off her watercolor paper.


---

Underneath Moscow...

Yvanka did not order the Warden Caid's execution. But he was demoted, just as he had feared. Now Caid was no more than a grunt, taking orders from a new Warden who didn't deserve the title. He was a respected grunt, but still a grunt. But he could still pull strings. He was determined to earn the honor of being Warden again, and he knew just how to do it.

He was going to retrieve the girl.

"I want you to watch her every move. If she attempts to kill Yvanka's child, intervene. If not, leave her be until I say so." Caid said, laying out his instructions as plainly and carefully as he could to his three men. Yvanka had been distraught - no, furous - that the girl had escaped and with the girl went her hope to have a beautiful child.

Caid honestly didn't understand why Lady Yvanka went through all the trouble when she could adopt one of her own peoples' children. He supposed she wanted an attractive child as opposed to an ugly one? No matter. He had failed his Lord and his Lady once, and now he was going to prove himself worthy.

He was going to go after the pretty. He was going to drag her back by the hair if he had to, and the beautiful Yvanka was going to have that child she had worked so hard for. He would even go behind her back to do it.

He had it all planned out. He would walk up to the steps of her room, open her doors - intruding on her privacy - and present the newborn infant to her on bended knee. She would look down upon him in favor and reinstate his title. He would be given a medal for serving his Lord and Lady well.

At least, that was the plan.

"What about the male Pretty?" one guard asked, itching to get a shot at the short, hairy little man. He had killed many people - and he was itching for vengeance.

"Let him be. He has earned his measure of peace. Though, if he gets in the way, kill him."