|Lost But Not Forgotten
Author: Caliente PM
one-shot vignette; AU post-HoM –– What if the mutants who lost their powers couldn't remember ever having them to begin with? Jubilee contemplates feelings of inexplicable loss and whether or not she's going crazy.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Drama - Jubilee - Words: 894 - Reviews: 4 - Published: 11-21-05 - Status: Complete - id: 2669222
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Author's Note: All righty then. This is a
slightly AU one-shot, set in the post-House of M world. Basically, it's
a kind of, 'what if the mutants without powers didn't remember they'd
ever had powers?' with their memories altered as such. It's all about
Jubilee, but I think the feelings could ring true for any and all the
mutants involved. Aaaaand yeah. That's really all I have to say about
Disclaimer: I don't even own the house I live in, how could I own Jubilee or the X-Men or whatever!
But Not Forgotten
I've been me so long, I can't remember being anybody else. I know how that sounds – crazy. I sound crazy. I dunno, maybe I am. Maybe I'm just some crazy person with some kind of… I dunno, multiple personality disorder or something. There are plenty of things that make people crazy, why not me too? I'm no except to the rule. I'm just… me.
At least, I was. I was me. And now… I don't really know who I am. I don't – I can't… remember…
It's like a dream. I can feel it inside of me, yearning to get out. Telling me this isn't right. That I'm not me anymore. That there's a reason I can't recognize the person I apparently am. But I can't see it. Taste it. It's there and it's not, all at once. It's like that moment just after you've forgotten the dream from the night before. That one moment where you can't tell what's real and what's not.
Heh. Hehehehe. Hee. Maybe… heh… maybe I am crazy. Maybe I'm totally delusional and I'm just some crazed chica who's escape the mental institution or funny farm or whatever. I mean, what kind of sane person can't remember being someone other than themselves? What the fuck, right? Who else would I be? Who else could I be? It's impossible. It's…
Crazy. Totally, completely, no holds bar psychotic. And I'm thinking it, so what does that make me? Besides certifiable, which I apparently am. Where does that leave me? In this big bad world, where I've had to survive on little more than my wits and my faith in myself… what do I do, now that that's gone? I'm not the me that survived. That much, I know.
So, who the fuck am I? Seriously… who am I? If I'm not me, and, to quote a great guest-star from Boy Meets World, "of this I am sure", then… who? Who else is there to be? I mean, I'm not totally cracked. I still know that I'm Jubilation Lee. Jubilee. But I'm not… me. Something's changed. I can feel it. Deep inside. I'm not me. Not anymore. But I don't know who I am. Or what's changed.
And, that is, perhaps, the scariest part of all. The points don't fit. There's no connection anymore. It's not my story, it's just a story. Orphaned at a young age. Runaway, in and out of Juvie. Nothing special. Nothing remarkable. Just a normal girl trying to survive the day to day on the streets of L.A. But… that's not me. Part of it is. Maybe all of it. Only… only, I'm more. So much more. I know I am.
But I can't remember. I can't remember why I was more. What made me special. What did I lose? When everything changed, and it must've changed if I'm not me anymore, then… who was I before? Who's the real me? I just… I don't know. I can't remember. It's fuzzy. There but not. But I can't let it go. I know it's in there. All of it. Somewhere… and someday, maybe, I'll be lucky enough to find it again.
To find me again. Because this… all of this. It's not me. I'm more. I'm better. I'm… something. I'm not nothing. I may not remember much but that – that I remember. Forever.
Got loads of time to think about it, though. (High school's kinda like that.) Contemplate the crazy. (That too.) Or maybe the sane, if I'm right. Which is a pretty big "if", knowing me. Which I don't. Not really. Not the old me. The real me. The me that's… missing. Gone. Broken. Something. I don't even know. Maybe I really have lost it.
But… something's not the same. That much I know. With all my heart and soul, I know it. The world's different and I… I'm different too. I'm not me. A big piece is gone. And I can't even remember what it is. All I know is that this – my life, my foster family, my school – everything… it's not right. And neither am I. And I don't know how to fix it…