Mirror, Mirror

Just a quick note before the chapter... NO I am not shipping Kurt/Jubes in this fic. I'm still a Kurtty shipper and Jubes/Remy shipper but you know, life isn't perfect. They had to have *some* shake up in there somewhere!

Mirror Mirror Chapter Eight
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… Yay! Finally autumn! And Yay! Sending a box! InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: Nice day off? Morgan: Are you alive? Readers/Reviewers: Forgot to mention several chapters back that the idea for this story stems from a conversation with ProPhile…and it’s not what you think. ;)

Amara stretched her arms over her head, rising up on her toes and lengthening her spine, sighing as she contracted back to her normal posture. Classes were over for the day and she was ready for bed, despite the fact it was barely seven o’clock. “Bobby,” she said flatly, “stop lurking.”
“I’m not lurking,” a sulky voice protested from the bushes. “I’m…gardening.”
“Gardening,” Amara repeated in a monotone. “What’s the name of that plant you’re trampling then?”
Bobby shuffled out from behind the shrubbery, wincing as something thorny slapped at his arm. “Um… Ned.”
The princess of Nova Roma snorted indelicately. “Funny. It always told Storm it’s name was Lola.” She folded her bare arms across her middle and walked towards Bobby with an undulating ease that looked incongruous on her young woman’s body. “Why are you spying on me, Bobby?”
“I’m not,” he shot back, shaking hair back from his face. “I was just walking and saw you here and…”
“And decided to hide in the Indian Hawthorne.” She raised a brow, her voice taking on a very chilled tone. “Bobby, I can appreciate your worry for me and don’t think for a moment that I am ungrateful but right now, I do not need you to look after me, serve me or in any way bother me. I need to…” she paused, her smile becoming edged. “I need to think.”
There was a brief pause as Bobby picked a few stray leaves from his sweater before turning a sullen gaze on Amara. “Lance asked me to keep an eye on you. He wanted to make sure you stayed here tonight.”
Amara’s brows shot up. “What?” She closed the distance between her and Bobby in two strides, ending up so close to him that he could smell the slight coffee tinge to her breath and the salty-bitter sweat rising from her skin. “Why did he go into town? Why did he want you to spy on me?” Before Bobby could move, her hand shot out and she grabbed a fistful of his sweater, keeping him in place. Ignoring his yelp of surprise, she shook him slightly. “Bobby, tell me the truth or I swear to the gods I will roast you in your own skin like a potato!”
Bobby’s eyes were so wide that they ached. He half believed her threat and thought it better to err on the side of caution, given what he knew about Amara’s temper and her past actions. “He said something about going to the bookstore with Todd. They were going to the community college and he said just checking things out. And he didn’t tell me to spy!” he protested again. “It was just like he wanted to make sure you didn’t follow him or something!” He gasped as she pushed him away roughly, barely catching himself before he hit the ground. “Amara! Wait! I shouldn’t have said anything!”
“Tell him I tortured you if that makes you feel better,” she called back, not breaking stride as she gained the door to the back hallway of the house.
Bobby winced as the glass-paned door slammed, the loud crack evidencing in a winding flaw in the door’s surface. “Shit,” he muttered. “Saint John’s right. I never could keep my mouth shut.”

“Rogue,” Jubilee called softly, hoping Amara did not hear her. The Nova Roman was slamming through the house, verbally eviscerating all in her path. So far, she had managed to escape notice by hiding out in the phone room off the main hall, but she knew it was only a matter of time. Rogue’s passing had been fortuitous, Jubilee thought. It had been the Southern girl she had been looking for when Amara started her mad flight through the house.
Rogue paused mid-step and slowly took a pace backwards so that she was even with the door to the miniscule room. “What?”
Jubilee frowned and drew back. “Don’t have to be snappish,” she said petulantly. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“I don’t really feel much like talkin’ to you right now,” she replied. Rogue winced as something crashed elsewhere in the mansion, the sound of broken glass grating on her frayed nerves. “In fact, I can’t even look at you right now.”
Jubilee growled under her breath and abandoned her cubby hole, taking off after Rogue. “Look, what you saw…”
“What I saw were two people I care very much about ripping the heart out of one of my best friends,” Rogue cut her off.
“God damn it, Rogue,” Jubilee exploded, her already thin temper snapping cleanly in two. “What we did is none of your fucking business! We’re both legal and you know what? We’re both single! If I want to fuck Kurt, I’ll fuck Kurt!”
Rogue drew in a deep breath, her eyes blazing with something akin to anger and hurt. “You check the mail today?”
“What?” The smaller girl drew back, the verbal whiplash almost a physical pain.
“Remy sent you a package,” Rogue went on. “Guess he still cares ‘bout you, even though you are a fickle little bitch.”
Jubilee sputtered as Rogue turned sharply on her heel and marched to the stairs, ignoring the sounds of Amara arguing with Storm. “Rogue!”
“I’m going to see Kitty tomorrow. Anything I need to tell her?” Rogue called back in her sweetest voice.
“Rogue! This is not anyone’s business but mine and Kurt’s!” Jubilee shouted, running to catch up with the Goth. “You’re being a fucking bitch!”
“Maybe so,” Rogue shot back, gaining the top of the stairs, not looking back as she strode to her room, “but at least I know how to treat a friend.”
“What the Hell is going on up there?” Scott’s voice came from the Rec Room. “Why is there all that shouting going on?”
“SCOTT!” Amara screeched, flying at him like a harpy. “Take me to town!”
“What? No!”
“It’ll stop the screaming,” Jubilee called from the stairs, sitting with her face pressed into her palms.
Scott looked down at Amara’s anger reddened face and sighed. “Get your coat.”