OOC + AU + Fixit!fic = I'm insane.
Ok..so. I was never deeply into QaF fandom. Then I went and bought the Season 1 boxset (the only one available in Australia). Lo' I was hooked.
I put off watching the final episode for as long as was humanly possible due to knowing the ending and knowing what I was like when it came to this sort of thing. I caved and watched it a while ago. And not suprisingly? Emma and Bobby were ever-so-slightly-miffed. They wouldn't let me write anything until I did something. So we sat down around a table with a bottle of tequila, some lemons and a salt shaker and came to an agreement.
Throw in my twisted mind, Tara's ability to be present at the opening of an envelope where-ever the Powers That Be need her and TaaDaa! Michael!Mun and Tara!Mun both were cool with the idea, so casting credits go to them for allowing me to play with their toys. The rest I can only blame on myself.
The ambulance pulled up to the hospital emergency bay, its lights reflecting off wet asphalt in the alleyway, illuminating the four figures there like a festive strobe. As medics rushed to relieve it of its passenger, Bobby's breath caught in his throat. Justin. Strapped down to the gurney, looking frail and tiny under the blanket, his formal shirt bloodied.
Bobby made as though to move forward and one of the figures shot out a hand, clamping down on his shoulder. "I know kid, I know." Bobby tried to struggle, but the hold didn't let up. "You wanna help him. But you can't. Not here. Continuity's a bitch." The speaker moved out from the shadows, dropping the cigarette he'd been smoking and grinding it under the heel of his boot.
Light picked out familiar features, a stranger with a friend's face. This was Michael, Bobby was sure of that. Had been since Tara had introduced them. But it was a Michael with rougher edges. The goatee made him look older, the look in his eyes weary and meaner. His leather trench-coat bulged in spots, hinting at concealed weaponry. It was Michael, but not the Michael he knew, not the sweet funny man that he'd danced with for his birthday.
"Here's the deal," Not-Michael said. "You can't help him, but you can fix things."
Bobby glared at him. "How does that-"
"Even the universe has a sense of balance." Tara's calm voice came from behind Bobby. She was the same as ever. Serene and motherly. Radiating peace. "As it is? The person that did this will go unpunished."
"So what?" Emma's voice sounded out. "We're karmic enforcers now?"
Not-Michael grunted. "'Readily available' is more like it." He grinned in the face of Emma's scowl as Bobby turned from watching the ED doors close behind the paramedics. "The person that did this." He looked at Tara, his jaw set, lips thin and white. "Where is he?"
Not-Michael grinned and the world -shifted- .
The alleyway opened up, bricks sliding into the distance as concrete columns that had never been there came into sharp focus. The light became more concentrated, strip-lighting overhead outstripping the alleyway's indirect illumination. Bobby stumbled, the sudden disorienting shift causing him to temporarily lose balance. With chagrin, he noticed Emma hadn't even budged. A wisp of hair moving in an errant draft the only sign she wasn't a statue. Tara laid a hand on his arm. "Kinda woozy, huh?" She offered a comforting smile. "You get used to it."
Not-Michael continued grinning, a feral light awakening in his eyes as he pointed. "There." Bobby realized it was his answer. A taller boy...no, young man. He walked through the car park, nursing his side. Tall, taller than Justin, and more heavily set. Not a fair fight at all, he thought. Emma caught his eye with a swift nod. Silent agreement to the thought.
"That him?" She spoke, turning to look at Not-Michael.
"Yup."
"Christopher Hobbes. One little git causing so much pain." Emma raised an eyebrow. "Why us?"
Tara's voice was patient, but pointed. "Emma. He's getting away. Do you really need to know that now?"
"No." Emma smiled, reaching out and holding the boy's mind. He came to a stop, staring blankly ahead, slack-jawed. "He's not." She turned to look into the shadows as footsteps echoed through the car park. "Why us?"
Not-Michael moved in something that might be vaguely construed as a shrug. "You survived the Cube with him," He looked at Bobby. "And he has a personal stake in the matter." A sly grin crossed his face. "Who better to kick ass than-"
Tara butted in, preempting her companion saying something regrettable. "Sometimes things need to be put right. Emma, you and Bobby...you can do what's necessary."
Emma nodded. "Good enough."
Bobby looked at Not-Michael. "Why not you?" The frank appraising look said it all. This Michael was obviously accustomed to violence. The answering smile made Bobby's stomach chill. He earnestly hoped to never see it from his Michael. "You don't want the opportunity? Payback against the fucker that left your boy for dead?"
"Didn't say that." Bobby found himself getting defensive. Although. If he and Emma did this? The little bastard may have a chance of getting out alive. He doubted that was an option Not-Michael would consider. He looked from Not-Michael, to Chris, and then back to Emma and Tara.
Fuck it. "Fine." At that he turned, walking over to the man, not bothering to check that Emma was following.
As they came to a halt in front of him, Emma released her hold on the little shit's mind. After all, what was the point if he didn't at least have the option to try and run?
The man blinked, looking at them as though they'd appeared from out of nowhere. If Emma had done what Bobby suspected? They probably had. "Who the fuck-"
"Quiet." Emma's voice was cool and crisp. Almost like 'Ro when she was teaching. She strode forward, the heels of her boots clicking against the car-park's cement floor. As she approached him, she opened her jacket, exposing sheer white shirt and deep cleavage as her hands came to rest on her waist. "Chris Hobbes," came the clipped voice. Quiet. Way too quiet for anyone's good. Bobby was suddenly glad he was on -her- side. "A baseball bat? That's a little over done, isn't it really? You've got fists haven't you? Not to mention the element of surprise." "Wha-" One hand flashed out quickly, tapping Chris on the nose, much like you would a misbehaving puppy. "I. Said. Quiet."
Chris blinked, startled and confused, but his face grew redder. "Who the Hell are you?"
Emma paused, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Sweetheart. As far as you're concerned I'm the fucking Queen." She slowly walked around Chris, eyes raking his body, all but stripping him naked on the spot. "What I'm wondering is... Why? Why endanger a brilliant future pumping gas, after your sports scholarship falls through in a year's time, for the chance to beat up a gay kid?"
Chris stuttered, turning his head to follow her as he tried to defend himself. She came to a stop in front of him and his eyes crossed to focus on the finger she held up. "Ah." Emma smiled sweetly. "Don't force me to make you kneel. You'll ruin the tux." She reached into his head, flipping through memory and sensation, not simply reading, but sharing, forcing Chris to relive each moment as she did.
Bobby looked on in concern as Emma toyed with the man. He deserved to be hurt, scared. He deserved to never be able to touch anyone, ever again, after what he'd done to J. But Emma was...well, a little scary. Even if she wasn't Xavier? She was still a telepath. The sound of warm rich laughter emanating from Emma caused his eyes to shoot up. She was...laughing?
"Oh," Emma smiled, chuckling warmly. "Oh, that's too precious. It really is." Emma's face when she turned to include Bobby was fixed, stern and uncompromising. In complete juxtaposition to her voice. "All this, over a hand job." An eyebrow arched eloquently as her face broke into a smile like the sun dawning. "You sad, sorry, homophobic little faggot. You get off on a guy, spend the rest of the year lusting after him...and then beat him with a baseball bat? You do know how to use your dick don't you?" She stepped back, motioning to Bobby. "He's all yours love."
Chris looked around wildly. That...that bitch had just pulled open the depths of his mind, waltzed through it and then laughed at him. His eyes landed on Bobby, a smaller target, easier. And safer. Just another..."Another fucking faggot." Chris sneered. Bravado welling up to cover his fear. He knew this script. It came easily.
"What? You want some too? Not like I can't take two of you in a night." He straightened up, arms outstretched in a menacing gesture. Bobby felt his eyes narrow as what little empathy he once had fled. This little shit had just crossed the line. "Yeah," He drawled, placing a hand against the hood of a car and very deliberately letting the Cold flow out from him. "'Cos a Fag's the least of your issues right now."
Chris's eyes widened at the frost forming traceries on the car. Bobby amped up the power, from slight frost to deep chill, his eyes never leaving Chris's face. In seconds the car was a deformed lump of ice, it's red paint work showing through in patches.
Chris turned to run, stumbling and then falling as his legs refused to work. "Oh no dear," Emma's voice shone with amusement. "You don't get to run. After all, did Justin?"
Bobby hauled him up, planting a fist into his gut as he stood and pushing him back against the car park wall. "He touched you?" The look in Bobby's eyes was like stone. Icebergs, Chris thought randomly. That's what icebergs look like. The hand around his throat brought him out of his daze. Pressed against the wall, the hand around his throat was oddly cool. "He touched you," Bobby demanded again. "And this is what you do to him." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. The guilt had been decided.
Bobby's nostrils flared as he took in the face of Justin's attacker. "How dare you. How the fuck dare you. Because you felt threatened?" Chris felt a spot of cold form on his neck, just over his carotid artery. Frost was forming there on the skin, a slowly numbing sensation that spread from Bobby's thumb. "You had no right." Bobby spat each word into his face. "Say it. You. Had. No. Right."
Chris was wide-eyed and pale. "I-, uh." The pressure of the hand increased as a sharp spike of cold shot up his neck. "Ihadnoright. Oh God. I didn't." He was scared now, honestly scared. Bobby's breath puffed out with his words, cold that fogged in the air. "You're sorry." Bobby's eyes never wavered. "Say it for me."
"I'm- I'm sorry. I-"
"No. You don't get to talk...you listen."
"..."
"Good." Bobby bought his head in until their foreheads were almost touching. Close, intimate, like lovers. "You get to live. Because Justin does. But you go to the cops." Blue eyes drilled into Chris's. "You go, you turn yourself in and you ever see Justin again? You turn around and you walk the other way. You ever raise a hand against anyone again? We'll know. She'll know." Bobby's head tilted to indicate Emma, still standing back in the shadows. She gave a nod, smirk plastered across her beautiful, cold face "And then we'll come back. And we'll talk again." Bobby pressed himself up against Chris, letting the Cold flow out through his whole body. On Chris's neck it grew. Intense and fast, it spread across the skin under his shirt and up across his face. When he was sure he'd never feel warm again, that this kid had burnt the ice into his veins and his bones and he was going to die here, Bobby stepped back, his face tinged blue.
He looked down at Chris's pants with a smirk. "You've had an accident." The glare came back, boring through Chris's head as Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Lucky it was only a small one, huh?" Chris looked down to see the dark patch that had spread across his trousers,covered in yellow tinged frost. "Remember," was the last word he heard before his brain split down the middle and darkness swam up to drown him.
Bobby and Emma walked back to the patch of shadow where their companions stood, watching the whole thing. As he met Tara's eyes, she gave him a quick firm nod. Not-Michael looked at the both of them, that dark flame guttering in his eyes again. "Not bad." He smirked. "For a pair of newbies." His eyes raked over Bobby, considering. "Maybe I'll have to look you both up sometime."
Bobby met his eyes for a second, then flicked away in dismissal, focusing on Tara. "Take us home."
The world -shifted-.
I put off watching the final episode for as long as was humanly possible due to knowing the ending and knowing what I was like when it came to this sort of thing. I caved and watched it a while ago. And not suprisingly? Emma and Bobby were ever-so-slightly-miffed. They wouldn't let me write anything until I did something. So we sat down around a table with a bottle of tequila, some lemons and a salt shaker and came to an agreement.
Throw in my twisted mind, Tara's ability to be present at the opening of an envelope where-ever the Powers That Be need her and TaaDaa! Michael!Mun and Tara!Mun both were cool with the idea, so casting credits go to them for allowing me to play with their toys. The rest I can only blame on myself.
The ambulance pulled up to the hospital emergency bay, its lights reflecting off wet asphalt in the alleyway, illuminating the four figures there like a festive strobe. As medics rushed to relieve it of its passenger, Bobby's breath caught in his throat. Justin. Strapped down to the gurney, looking frail and tiny under the blanket, his formal shirt bloodied.
Bobby made as though to move forward and one of the figures shot out a hand, clamping down on his shoulder. "I know kid, I know." Bobby tried to struggle, but the hold didn't let up. "You wanna help him. But you can't. Not here. Continuity's a bitch." The speaker moved out from the shadows, dropping the cigarette he'd been smoking and grinding it under the heel of his boot.
Light picked out familiar features, a stranger with a friend's face. This was Michael, Bobby was sure of that. Had been since Tara had introduced them. But it was a Michael with rougher edges. The goatee made him look older, the look in his eyes weary and meaner. His leather trench-coat bulged in spots, hinting at concealed weaponry. It was Michael, but not the Michael he knew, not the sweet funny man that he'd danced with for his birthday.
"Here's the deal," Not-Michael said. "You can't help him, but you can fix things."
Bobby glared at him. "How does that-"
"Even the universe has a sense of balance." Tara's calm voice came from behind Bobby. She was the same as ever. Serene and motherly. Radiating peace. "As it is? The person that did this will go unpunished."
"So what?" Emma's voice sounded out. "We're karmic enforcers now?"
Not-Michael grunted. "'Readily available' is more like it." He grinned in the face of Emma's scowl as Bobby turned from watching the ED doors close behind the paramedics. "The person that did this." He looked at Tara, his jaw set, lips thin and white. "Where is he?"
Not-Michael grinned and the world -shifted- .
The alleyway opened up, bricks sliding into the distance as concrete columns that had never been there came into sharp focus. The light became more concentrated, strip-lighting overhead outstripping the alleyway's indirect illumination. Bobby stumbled, the sudden disorienting shift causing him to temporarily lose balance. With chagrin, he noticed Emma hadn't even budged. A wisp of hair moving in an errant draft the only sign she wasn't a statue. Tara laid a hand on his arm. "Kinda woozy, huh?" She offered a comforting smile. "You get used to it."
Not-Michael continued grinning, a feral light awakening in his eyes as he pointed. "There." Bobby realized it was his answer. A taller boy...no, young man. He walked through the car park, nursing his side. Tall, taller than Justin, and more heavily set. Not a fair fight at all, he thought. Emma caught his eye with a swift nod. Silent agreement to the thought.
"That him?" She spoke, turning to look at Not-Michael.
"Yup."
"Christopher Hobbes. One little git causing so much pain." Emma raised an eyebrow. "Why us?"
Tara's voice was patient, but pointed. "Emma. He's getting away. Do you really need to know that now?"
"No." Emma smiled, reaching out and holding the boy's mind. He came to a stop, staring blankly ahead, slack-jawed. "He's not." She turned to look into the shadows as footsteps echoed through the car park. "Why us?"
Not-Michael moved in something that might be vaguely construed as a shrug. "You survived the Cube with him," He looked at Bobby. "And he has a personal stake in the matter." A sly grin crossed his face. "Who better to kick ass than-"
Tara butted in, preempting her companion saying something regrettable. "Sometimes things need to be put right. Emma, you and Bobby...you can do what's necessary."
Emma nodded. "Good enough."
Bobby looked at Not-Michael. "Why not you?" The frank appraising look said it all. This Michael was obviously accustomed to violence. The answering smile made Bobby's stomach chill. He earnestly hoped to never see it from his Michael. "You don't want the opportunity? Payback against the fucker that left your boy for dead?"
"Didn't say that." Bobby found himself getting defensive. Although. If he and Emma did this? The little bastard may have a chance of getting out alive. He doubted that was an option Not-Michael would consider. He looked from Not-Michael, to Chris, and then back to Emma and Tara.
Fuck it. "Fine." At that he turned, walking over to the man, not bothering to check that Emma was following.
As they came to a halt in front of him, Emma released her hold on the little shit's mind. After all, what was the point if he didn't at least have the option to try and run?
The man blinked, looking at them as though they'd appeared from out of nowhere. If Emma had done what Bobby suspected? They probably had. "Who the fuck-"
"Quiet." Emma's voice was cool and crisp. Almost like 'Ro when she was teaching. She strode forward, the heels of her boots clicking against the car-park's cement floor. As she approached him, she opened her jacket, exposing sheer white shirt and deep cleavage as her hands came to rest on her waist. "Chris Hobbes," came the clipped voice. Quiet. Way too quiet for anyone's good. Bobby was suddenly glad he was on -her- side. "A baseball bat? That's a little over done, isn't it really? You've got fists haven't you? Not to mention the element of surprise." "Wha-" One hand flashed out quickly, tapping Chris on the nose, much like you would a misbehaving puppy. "I. Said. Quiet."
Chris blinked, startled and confused, but his face grew redder. "Who the Hell are you?"
Emma paused, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "Sweetheart. As far as you're concerned I'm the fucking Queen." She slowly walked around Chris, eyes raking his body, all but stripping him naked on the spot. "What I'm wondering is... Why? Why endanger a brilliant future pumping gas, after your sports scholarship falls through in a year's time, for the chance to beat up a gay kid?"
Chris stuttered, turning his head to follow her as he tried to defend himself. She came to a stop in front of him and his eyes crossed to focus on the finger she held up. "Ah." Emma smiled sweetly. "Don't force me to make you kneel. You'll ruin the tux." She reached into his head, flipping through memory and sensation, not simply reading, but sharing, forcing Chris to relive each moment as she did.
Bobby looked on in concern as Emma toyed with the man. He deserved to be hurt, scared. He deserved to never be able to touch anyone, ever again, after what he'd done to J. But Emma was...well, a little scary. Even if she wasn't Xavier? She was still a telepath. The sound of warm rich laughter emanating from Emma caused his eyes to shoot up. She was...laughing?
"Oh," Emma smiled, chuckling warmly. "Oh, that's too precious. It really is." Emma's face when she turned to include Bobby was fixed, stern and uncompromising. In complete juxtaposition to her voice. "All this, over a hand job." An eyebrow arched eloquently as her face broke into a smile like the sun dawning. "You sad, sorry, homophobic little faggot. You get off on a guy, spend the rest of the year lusting after him...and then beat him with a baseball bat? You do know how to use your dick don't you?" She stepped back, motioning to Bobby. "He's all yours love."
Chris looked around wildly. That...that bitch had just pulled open the depths of his mind, waltzed through it and then laughed at him. His eyes landed on Bobby, a smaller target, easier. And safer. Just another..."Another fucking faggot." Chris sneered. Bravado welling up to cover his fear. He knew this script. It came easily.
"What? You want some too? Not like I can't take two of you in a night." He straightened up, arms outstretched in a menacing gesture. Bobby felt his eyes narrow as what little empathy he once had fled. This little shit had just crossed the line. "Yeah," He drawled, placing a hand against the hood of a car and very deliberately letting the Cold flow out from him. "'Cos a Fag's the least of your issues right now."
Chris's eyes widened at the frost forming traceries on the car. Bobby amped up the power, from slight frost to deep chill, his eyes never leaving Chris's face. In seconds the car was a deformed lump of ice, it's red paint work showing through in patches.
Chris turned to run, stumbling and then falling as his legs refused to work. "Oh no dear," Emma's voice shone with amusement. "You don't get to run. After all, did Justin?"
Bobby hauled him up, planting a fist into his gut as he stood and pushing him back against the car park wall. "He touched you?" The look in Bobby's eyes was like stone. Icebergs, Chris thought randomly. That's what icebergs look like. The hand around his throat brought him out of his daze. Pressed against the wall, the hand around his throat was oddly cool. "He touched you," Bobby demanded again. "And this is what you do to him." It wasn't a question, it was a statement. The guilt had been decided.
Bobby's nostrils flared as he took in the face of Justin's attacker. "How dare you. How the fuck dare you. Because you felt threatened?" Chris felt a spot of cold form on his neck, just over his carotid artery. Frost was forming there on the skin, a slowly numbing sensation that spread from Bobby's thumb. "You had no right." Bobby spat each word into his face. "Say it. You. Had. No. Right."
Chris was wide-eyed and pale. "I-, uh." The pressure of the hand increased as a sharp spike of cold shot up his neck. "Ihadnoright. Oh God. I didn't." He was scared now, honestly scared. Bobby's breath puffed out with his words, cold that fogged in the air. "You're sorry." Bobby's eyes never wavered. "Say it for me."
"I'm- I'm sorry. I-"
"No. You don't get to talk...you listen."
"..."
"Good." Bobby bought his head in until their foreheads were almost touching. Close, intimate, like lovers. "You get to live. Because Justin does. But you go to the cops." Blue eyes drilled into Chris's. "You go, you turn yourself in and you ever see Justin again? You turn around and you walk the other way. You ever raise a hand against anyone again? We'll know. She'll know." Bobby's head tilted to indicate Emma, still standing back in the shadows. She gave a nod, smirk plastered across her beautiful, cold face "And then we'll come back. And we'll talk again." Bobby pressed himself up against Chris, letting the Cold flow out through his whole body. On Chris's neck it grew. Intense and fast, it spread across the skin under his shirt and up across his face. When he was sure he'd never feel warm again, that this kid had burnt the ice into his veins and his bones and he was going to die here, Bobby stepped back, his face tinged blue.
He looked down at Chris's pants with a smirk. "You've had an accident." The glare came back, boring through Chris's head as Bobby raised an eyebrow. "Lucky it was only a small one, huh?" Chris looked down to see the dark patch that had spread across his trousers,covered in yellow tinged frost. "Remember," was the last word he heard before his brain split down the middle and darkness swam up to drown him.
Bobby and Emma walked back to the patch of shadow where their companions stood, watching the whole thing. As he met Tara's eyes, she gave him a quick firm nod. Not-Michael looked at the both of them, that dark flame guttering in his eyes again. "Not bad." He smirked. "For a pair of newbies." His eyes raked over Bobby, considering. "Maybe I'll have to look you both up sometime."
Bobby met his eyes for a second, then flicked away in dismissal, focusing on Tara. "Take us home."
The world -shifted-.