by Pixie

Summary: Jubilee is forced to deal with the aftermath when Wolverine loses, among other things, his sanity.

Disclaimer: The characters in this story belong to Marvel and I am not making any money from this.

The tight fist, guided by an extremely furious man, crashed right through the looking glass. The sound of the mirror breaking was drowned out in his very vocal expression of pain. The personification of good intentions would come running any moment now, concern lending speed to legs already used to running.

He looked down at his bleeding fist, the blood flowing out of the many cuts. It was not a sight he was used to, his bare fists. The red liquid which seemed so eager to leave his body, was pooling on the floor. Another unusual experience. In its glimmering he could make out an image. He bent lower in order to make a closer examination. It has his face, mocking him again! This time, his roar was one of rage. The new addition to the mansion at the doorway, only to dash away, trembling with fear at the fury of the man before him.

Alone again, not that he had been aware of his brief visitor, he started scooping up slivers and pieces of the broken glass, ignoring or perhaps not noticing the pain. His grasping hands came across a large piece and as he picked it up it reflected his crazed face. In horror he noticed that there were reflections in his eyes! Without a moment・s hesitation, he gouged at his eyes, blinding himself. Now he would have peace.

As the darkness overcame him he was not alone. No, they had followed him here, increasing his agony. The face, his face, taunting with the very voice he had used these many years. Always casting up to him every failure, every act that still weighed heavy upon his conscience as well as some dark deeds he had forgotten. It would not let him explain and could not understand excuses. It would never let him rest.


They found him attempting to squeeze his body through the narrow window, hoping to find refuge in death. Too weakened by blood loss to put up much of a fight and too far gone in his insanity to make himself understood.

・He must be constantly watched,・ she announced, the tremor in her voice barely noticeable. ・We can only hope that one day he may recover. He must never be left alone, we cannot risk him taking his life.・ No one had the heart to argue with her. The form huddled in the corner of the sparse little room cried out in anguish. Almost as though he understood, the small black haired woman thought to herself. Brushing away tears, she ran from the room, fleeing from the sound of the blind man・s chilling screams.