Ficlet: By a thread
[OOC: doug_ramsey and tm_northstar reference with love (even if John is a big emo muffin.) And morty_toad is mine so I give myself permission to write him. :) I'm trying to get John back into play again so hopefully this helps a bit.]
When the phone in his office rang, John was pulled out of his thoughts. He quickly stashed the silver flask back in the bottom drawer, as if someone over the phone would’ve been able to see it, and the guilt settled in his stomach even having to do so. Then, he dutifully picked up the receiver.
“John Allerdyce here."
“Hullo, Pyro! How’s it going?” a familiar voice cried out cheerily.
John paused, body frozen. He blinked once, and then answered, “Hi, Toad. How’d you get this number?” He realised too late he didn’t even correct his name.
“Not all the difficult. I’m in town, thought I’d give you a ring, see if you’d like to go down to the pub.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Always a way with words!” Toad laughed. Something in John’s stomach twisted; he remembered that laugh, and how he used to join in. Toad said, “I’m serious! Come on, mate, I’d like to catch up.”
“Don’t believe that for a fucking second.”
“I’m over the revenge bit, I told you that last year! Let bygones be bygones and all that rubbish.”
“Hmm,” John hummed under his breath. “And that whole thing where you lost a bit of your soul to open up limbo or whatever?”
“Oh, that was crazy Mike, not you!” Toad said, laughing. “Besides, it’s not like I had much of a soul to lose, yeah? I got out of that whole spot of trouble, nearly unharmed too!”
“Why did you call me?”
“I told you! Let’s go for a drink.”
John couldn’t even lie that he didn’t drink, though it wasn’t exactly something he didn’t publicly, or around other people (or mutants) all that much. But, really, that shouldn't be what he was worried about. “Still don’t think it’s a good idea. Could be a trap, you know. You Brotherhood types are kind of sketchy.” John was surprised to find his lips had curled into a teasing smirk.
“Didn’t you hear? We’re disbanded! I’m a free agent now. Exploring the world, finding my place, all that.”
“I don’t think it’s a very good idea for me.”
Toad scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re such a loser now, Pyro. Have you lost all your fun? Do you have something else better planned, then?”
John closed his eyes, and his mind flashed to the thoughts he’d just been having moments before Toad had called him.
**
John Pyro Allerdyce was a loser, in so many ways. One big giant loser who had done nothing but fail his entire life.
There was that whole Xavier's thing, of course. Many would have seen his dropping at as a failure, and certainly hooking up with the Brotherhood.
And then, with the Brotherhood, Pyro failed his mission before he even got anything accomplished. He had plans to change the world, have mutants accepted, to have power and control over situations where power and control was suppressed by human beings. Mutants were going to rule. AndPyro was going to be a success.
Or, maybe, not so much.
Pyro gave up that dream, gave up that life. He became John Allerdyce. And John had very much been in love with Douglas Ramsey, and then with Jean-Paul Beaubier.
(He still was, of course, but that seemed to matter so little now, to anyone who wasn't him.)
Doug Ramsey had been young and eager and sweet and had saved John, one hundred percent. Doug had been trying to find his way in the world, as had John, and they both grew up a lot, together. But they needed to grow up, but a little bit apart, too. John still loved Doug, with all his heart, but Doug was so busy becoming the amazing man he was meant to be. School and work and computers and being a genius.
John wouldn’t want to bother Doug with his problems. Doug was bright and optimistic, still; had been to hell and back, because of John, and John couldn’t do that to him anymore. Couldn’t be that black mark on his life. And so it remained, smiles and cuddles and hot sex, but John needed that too. He wasn’t sure he could make it through without it.
Jean-Paul Beaubier had had passion and fire and vision, everything that John had wanted Pyro to be. And so, in a new civilian life, John had been swept up in it, dazzled by Jean-Paul and his bright light, his good intentions, his beliefs. And JP and John worked together, worked long and hard, to create something good.
But John knew, now years later, that it all could’ve been done without him. That he wasn’t anything important to it. They kept John’s name out of it, as much as possible, kept his tarnished past downplayed to the board and the donors and everybody. Jean-Paul was the face of the organisation, the driving force, the superhero, the press-friendly presence -- he was the everything that was needed for success.
John sat behind a desk, and he pushed paper. A whole lot of paper. Sometimes, he even made phone calls. But, really, anybody could do John’s job, and probably do it a whole lot better.
And Genosha. John wasn't going there anymore, hadn't in a long time. It was different now, with Mike gone, and no one else really remembered he existed. He wasn't needed or called back and his visits had nearly stopped altogether.
And the one time that John -- John, not Pyro -- tried to lead a mission was a complete failure. Weeks in the Savage Land, to come up empty. And others (Jean-Paul, Aurora, real superheros) had since dealt with it.
But most of all ... the biggest failure ... the thing that hurt John more than he could even say, hurt so much he buried it deep down so it couldn't be seen ...
His marriage. John was failing in it already.
He was told he was too busy; and, yes, maybe he could go home more often. But whenever he did, the apartment was empty, and John was alone. And so he worked more, and there was the excuse that he was never home anyway so why would his husbands be? It was a vicious circle, and John didn’t know how to say anything about it. He didn’t know how to fix it. Because to try to hold them too close, it would only push them away.
But he wasn’t holding on at all, and he was losing them anyway.
Because, of course, there was the Epic Failure (as the kids at the shelter would say) that John had to face every single day.
Only four months in and one of his husbands was already in love with someone else.
(Kansas was supposed to fix things. But it hadn’t.)
It tore John apart. He wanted to yell, scream, throw tantrums like he used to. He wanted to set things -- several things, quite possibly very large things -- on fire. He wanted to burn the world down.
But, he couldn’t. He didn’t, because he knew to do so would make the end come even faster. Jean-Paul wouldn’t tolerate such jealousy and he’d leave sooner rather than later over it.
Maybe that would be what was best for Jean-Paul, but John was a selfish fuck who was trying to keep what he wished was really his just a little longer. And so John went through each day, dread and hurt tearing up his insides, but it was worth the smile or kiss or touch or lay he was awarded every once in a while.
John sat in his office, door locked under the pretense of an impending and very important conference call. He sat with the silver flask gripped in his hands, a sign of failure in itself because he couldn’t make it a morning or a lunch or an afternoon without having a sip or two. He never used to drink, saw it a sign of weakness, and now even the couple sips of day he had was a burning shame.
Because he was weak. Underneath it all, he was weak, and he was finally starting to feel it.
He sat there, and he thought: I am a loser in so many ways.
And when the phone in his office rang, John was pulled out of his thoughts.
**
With John lost in his thoughts, Toad prompted again, “Do you have anything better planned?”
John whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Well then make plans! I’ll meet you at half past seven--”
John snapped to his senses. “This isn’t a good idea. I -- no, I can’t come.”
Toad was quiet for a moment. “Fine, then. I’ll give you a ring next week.”
“Toad, I don’t--“
But with a click, John knew Toad was gone. For now.
He placed the receiver back down in the cradle and sighed. He thought about getting up, going into the common room, making an appearance to the staff and the teens.
His eyes glanced down to the drawer. And while John intended to hide the flask in the little trap compartment, he took one more swig before storing it away where no one could find it.
John popped in a piece of gum, chewing thoroughly, using his tongue to move it around and coat his mouth until he breathed mint.
John plastered his trademark surly smirk on his face and no one would be able to tell there was any difference now than there had been before.
When the phone in his office rang, John was pulled out of his thoughts. He quickly stashed the silver flask back in the bottom drawer, as if someone over the phone would’ve been able to see it, and the guilt settled in his stomach even having to do so. Then, he dutifully picked up the receiver.
“John Allerdyce here."
“Hullo, Pyro! How’s it going?” a familiar voice cried out cheerily.
John paused, body frozen. He blinked once, and then answered, “Hi, Toad. How’d you get this number?” He realised too late he didn’t even correct his name.
“Not all the difficult. I’m in town, thought I’d give you a ring, see if you’d like to go down to the pub.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“Always a way with words!” Toad laughed. Something in John’s stomach twisted; he remembered that laugh, and how he used to join in. Toad said, “I’m serious! Come on, mate, I’d like to catch up.”
“Don’t believe that for a fucking second.”
“I’m over the revenge bit, I told you that last year! Let bygones be bygones and all that rubbish.”
“Hmm,” John hummed under his breath. “And that whole thing where you lost a bit of your soul to open up limbo or whatever?”
“Oh, that was crazy Mike, not you!” Toad said, laughing. “Besides, it’s not like I had much of a soul to lose, yeah? I got out of that whole spot of trouble, nearly unharmed too!”
“Why did you call me?”
“I told you! Let’s go for a drink.”
John couldn’t even lie that he didn’t drink, though it wasn’t exactly something he didn’t publicly, or around other people (or mutants) all that much. But, really, that shouldn't be what he was worried about. “Still don’t think it’s a good idea. Could be a trap, you know. You Brotherhood types are kind of sketchy.” John was surprised to find his lips had curled into a teasing smirk.
“Didn’t you hear? We’re disbanded! I’m a free agent now. Exploring the world, finding my place, all that.”
“I don’t think it’s a very good idea for me.”
Toad scoffed, “Don’t tell me you’re such a loser now, Pyro. Have you lost all your fun? Do you have something else better planned, then?”
John closed his eyes, and his mind flashed to the thoughts he’d just been having moments before Toad had called him.
**
John Pyro Allerdyce was a loser, in so many ways. One big giant loser who had done nothing but fail his entire life.
There was that whole Xavier's thing, of course. Many would have seen his dropping at as a failure, and certainly hooking up with the Brotherhood.
And then, with the Brotherhood, Pyro failed his mission before he even got anything accomplished. He had plans to change the world, have mutants accepted, to have power and control over situations where power and control was suppressed by human beings. Mutants were going to rule. AndPyro was going to be a success.
Or, maybe, not so much.
Pyro gave up that dream, gave up that life. He became John Allerdyce. And John had very much been in love with Douglas Ramsey, and then with Jean-Paul Beaubier.
(He still was, of course, but that seemed to matter so little now, to anyone who wasn't him.)
Doug Ramsey had been young and eager and sweet and had saved John, one hundred percent. Doug had been trying to find his way in the world, as had John, and they both grew up a lot, together. But they needed to grow up, but a little bit apart, too. John still loved Doug, with all his heart, but Doug was so busy becoming the amazing man he was meant to be. School and work and computers and being a genius.
John wouldn’t want to bother Doug with his problems. Doug was bright and optimistic, still; had been to hell and back, because of John, and John couldn’t do that to him anymore. Couldn’t be that black mark on his life. And so it remained, smiles and cuddles and hot sex, but John needed that too. He wasn’t sure he could make it through without it.
Jean-Paul Beaubier had had passion and fire and vision, everything that John had wanted Pyro to be. And so, in a new civilian life, John had been swept up in it, dazzled by Jean-Paul and his bright light, his good intentions, his beliefs. And JP and John worked together, worked long and hard, to create something good.
But John knew, now years later, that it all could’ve been done without him. That he wasn’t anything important to it. They kept John’s name out of it, as much as possible, kept his tarnished past downplayed to the board and the donors and everybody. Jean-Paul was the face of the organisation, the driving force, the superhero, the press-friendly presence -- he was the everything that was needed for success.
John sat behind a desk, and he pushed paper. A whole lot of paper. Sometimes, he even made phone calls. But, really, anybody could do John’s job, and probably do it a whole lot better.
And Genosha. John wasn't going there anymore, hadn't in a long time. It was different now, with Mike gone, and no one else really remembered he existed. He wasn't needed or called back and his visits had nearly stopped altogether.
And the one time that John -- John, not Pyro -- tried to lead a mission was a complete failure. Weeks in the Savage Land, to come up empty. And others (Jean-Paul, Aurora, real superheros) had since dealt with it.
But most of all ... the biggest failure ... the thing that hurt John more than he could even say, hurt so much he buried it deep down so it couldn't be seen ...
His marriage. John was failing in it already.
He was told he was too busy; and, yes, maybe he could go home more often. But whenever he did, the apartment was empty, and John was alone. And so he worked more, and there was the excuse that he was never home anyway so why would his husbands be? It was a vicious circle, and John didn’t know how to say anything about it. He didn’t know how to fix it. Because to try to hold them too close, it would only push them away.
But he wasn’t holding on at all, and he was losing them anyway.
Because, of course, there was the Epic Failure (as the kids at the shelter would say) that John had to face every single day.
Only four months in and one of his husbands was already in love with someone else.
(Kansas was supposed to fix things. But it hadn’t.)
It tore John apart. He wanted to yell, scream, throw tantrums like he used to. He wanted to set things -- several things, quite possibly very large things -- on fire. He wanted to burn the world down.
But, he couldn’t. He didn’t, because he knew to do so would make the end come even faster. Jean-Paul wouldn’t tolerate such jealousy and he’d leave sooner rather than later over it.
Maybe that would be what was best for Jean-Paul, but John was a selfish fuck who was trying to keep what he wished was really his just a little longer. And so John went through each day, dread and hurt tearing up his insides, but it was worth the smile or kiss or touch or lay he was awarded every once in a while.
John sat in his office, door locked under the pretense of an impending and very important conference call. He sat with the silver flask gripped in his hands, a sign of failure in itself because he couldn’t make it a morning or a lunch or an afternoon without having a sip or two. He never used to drink, saw it a sign of weakness, and now even the couple sips of day he had was a burning shame.
Because he was weak. Underneath it all, he was weak, and he was finally starting to feel it.
He sat there, and he thought: I am a loser in so many ways.
And when the phone in his office rang, John was pulled out of his thoughts.
**
With John lost in his thoughts, Toad prompted again, “Do you have anything better planned?”
John whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Well then make plans! I’ll meet you at half past seven--”
John snapped to his senses. “This isn’t a good idea. I -- no, I can’t come.”
Toad was quiet for a moment. “Fine, then. I’ll give you a ring next week.”
“Toad, I don’t--“
But with a click, John knew Toad was gone. For now.
He placed the receiver back down in the cradle and sighed. He thought about getting up, going into the common room, making an appearance to the staff and the teens.
His eyes glanced down to the drawer. And while John intended to hide the flask in the little trap compartment, he took one more swig before storing it away where no one could find it.
John popped in a piece of gum, chewing thoroughly, using his tongue to move it around and coat his mouth until he breathed mint.
John plastered his trademark surly smirk on his face and no one would be able to tell there was any difference now than there had been before.