SUMMARY: It's been four years since Jubilee's disappearance and the X-Men have dealt with it in their own special way. Each year on the anniversary of her funeral they hold a party to remember her and how she loved life.

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NOTES: Any bordered by triple characters (e.g. |||) means telepathic speech. Each telepath has a different signature. Phrases bordered by parenthesis mean the person is speaking in Japanese. Phrases bordered by * are thoughts. Any questions see feedback for my email address and I'll answer as best as I can.

It was that time again.

Scott religiously guarded his beloved barbeque pit. Smoke billowed around him carrying tantalizing aromas of hotdogs and hamburgers into the mansion. His apron read "Kiss the Cook, 'Nuff Said". On the outside he was the picture of happiness but if Scott Summer could cry, it would be hard to hide his tears as he remembered who had taught him to 'let loose and chill'.

"ROBERT DRAKE! I will personally flay every inch of your epidermis from that miserable conglomeration of muscle, sinew, and bone you call a body! Beast stormed out of the kitchen waving a pair of eggbeater blades like weapons. His blue fur, apron, and chef's hat were so inundated with water that he left a puddle trail.

Just before he reached the threshold leading to the living room Hank came to a skidding halt. The last time this happened, there had been another bucket waiting for him, a bucket of jello powder delivered by a certain "firecracker". Beast forgot his anger entirely, lost in fond memories of the following water hose fight she claimed was 'her way of helping him clean off'.

The focus of Beast's forgotten ire patiently waited in his hiding place expecting the very wet and angry doctor to fly right past him. *Definitely a two-person job* he concluded, quickly losing heart for continuing the prank. Without his "partner in crime" the art of prank pulling had become dull indeed.

Suddenly he shook his head and held it up, proudly clutching Beast's doom. "I, the Bobbster will carry on the legacy of 'Fire and Ice'." With that promise, he popped out from behind the threshold and dumped a 5-gallon bucket of lime green jello powder on an unsuspecting Beast.

Jean started at Beast's roar of indignation but understood when a lime green/blue ball of fur chased down the 'Human Popsicle' and proceeded to dowse him thoroughly with the water hose outside the living room window. She giggled softly and wondered what memories those two were running through.

Beyond the aquatic hi-jinks, a few new students paused to root for their favorite X-Man. When it was evident that the fight wasn't really a fight, they returned to decorating the small white picket gazebo in the courtyard.

At first the sensation was barely perceptible. The air pressure outside the window changed gradually as a dark cloud began to form directly over the combatants. It built for a few seconds more before releasing a torrent of rain on Hank and Bobby.

Storm floated into view, her hands covering her mouth trying to hide evil smile playing on her lips. Instead of her usual black attire, she now boasted white, very short shorts and a powder blue halter-top with the word "Kewl" embroidered in rhinestones. High-heeled white leather thigh-boots completed the ensemble.

Finally getting herself under control, Storm raised both hands creating a small vortex that flung mud at the drenched combatants. It was an irresistible invitation. Screaming at the top of their collective lungs the new students bounded off the gazebo and joined in. Soon those involved were thoroughly covered in lime green tinged mud.

Jean never realized just how much one small girl had affected their lives and watched, fascinated by Storm's yearly transformation. Many of them considered her the "mother", but it seems "mom" remembered what it's like to be a kid again.

Caught up in her own memories Jean barely felt a small tug at the back of her mind. :::All present and accounted for. I suggest we begin now before another battle¡¦ Oh my, too late::: Charles Xavier floated in and settled his aero-chair right beside his protégé just as Angel zipped past the muddy group with an open feather pillow.

Chaos reigned supreme. The motley crew ran madly after the winged-one at a break-neck pace. Angel flew between the pillars supporting the high arched entrance into the courtyard. Scott, who had been setting a nicely stacked plate of hamburgers on the central table, barely had a chance to turn around, utter one of his famous grave warnings, and realize the about 20 students, including Hank and Bobby were stampeding right into his carefully laid out spread.

Without a second thought Jean stretched out her hand and telekinetically lifted the protesting "fearless leader" out of harm's way. The table, on the other hand, met a quick and messy demise. Plates of food went airborne, catapulted with uncanny accuracy straight at Warren.

Blessed with extremely quick reflexes, Warren executed an incredibly complex series of aerial maneuvers, avoiding most of the projectiles. However, with all the ducking and diving, he wasn't paying particular attention to details. The mob was still hell bent on revenge. Many of them had gathered any excess mud and feathers from each other into one very large ball.

One of the larger boys, Matt, offered to do the honors when the ball began to glow faintly red. It rose slowly into the air, hovered and seemed to be waiting for the perfect moment.

"Hey! Who's doing that?"

"You are!"

"Am not!"

"Aw, c'mon. You're a telekinetic. 'Fess up."

"Actually, I create kinetic "magnets". 'Sides my energy signature is blue. It's Mrs. Summers'. Hers is red."

"You sure?"

"You saying I'm lying?"

Matt continued to argue with the rest of the group until they realized the ball was moving. Angel, to avoid a bowl of pretzels, folded his wings abruptly and dropped into a power dive right into the mud ball. Instinctively Angel spread his wings almost faster than reflex allowed and clawed at his face. He couldn't pull completely out of the dive and was losing altitude, flying blindly into the waiting pack.

"Um, guys¡¦he's falling this way!!" As one they crouched down with arms crossed protectively over their heads. Matt, the only one left standing made a throwing motion and cast a blue energy net over his classmates.

Angel slammed into the net sticking to it like a bug on flypaper. "Let me out of this thing this instant!" Warren yelled unaccustomed to the grime the covered his usually immaculate feathers.

"Yo dude! Relax with the 'tude already. Sheesh ya think a guy can take as well as he gives. Go figure!" Myrial rolled her eyes at the "fallen angel". He was staring at her with a mixed expression of shock and sadness. Then in an utterly unexpected turn of mood, he dissolved into helpless laughter.

Myrial blinked wondering where that had come from. Then she remembered her powers. Whenever she talked to someone, if he or she projected a remembered personality, Myrial would mimic it unconsciously, in this case Jubilee. The corners of her mouth started to twitch and a giggle escaped her lips. Angel's laughter was contagious. Matt even lost concentration and unceremoniously dumped Warren on the floor; he was still laughing.

Back at the mansion Jean fought to keep her expression blank. Only her eyes gave any indication that she too was laughing. As an afterthought she set Scott back on his feet. He was sufficiently exasperated at the whole scene and sent a mental accusation to his wife.

}}}Was that really necessary? Oh well, I hope Harry is expecting us again. Odd how it seems that every year SOMETHING happens and we're forced to move the party to Harry's - one of Jubilee's favorite places - huh?{{{

|||No comment. Why don't you exert some of your great leadership talents and get that motley crew cracking. They need to be clean and ready in a half-hour. Meet you there love.|||

Xavier tried not to eavesdrop but he couldn't help but pick up something in Jean's mental voice. She was holding something back from Scott. *How very unlike her*

:::Jean. If you're thinking¡¦:::

|||Go ahead, Professor. I'll be there. Not everyone is accounted for.||| Someone was going to miss Jubilee's party.

Her eyes paned left and settled on the stretch of woods that separated their estate from Canada. Although she couldn't see him, Jean knew Logan was somewhere deep within those woods. Casting her consciousness outward, she projected her astral self across the fields and entered the foreboding haven. His sadness left an almost tangible trail; she caught up to him quickly.

"Logan, please come with us, just this once. I know she'd want you to." Jean was taking a chance by mentioning that. She met his cold angry stare and realized it was the wrong thing to say.

"She'd want me not to give up hope. If there ain't a body, to me, she's not dead." His tone of voice, deadly calm and completely devoid of emotion, frightened Jean.

"But Logan, it's been four years. You need to let her go my friend."

"What I need, Jeanie, is to be left alone." He endured the hurt look in his friend's eye. A part of him even considered giving into her wishes, but his heart wouldn't be able to take Jubilee's name constantly being mentioned. Memories of her cut through his soul and remained like fresh wounds that would never heal. In the deepest part of his mind, however he knew that after all this time, Jubilee was gone.