X2: Corner of Mason and Cross (R), Pyro/Iceman.
It was stupid of him to come, to pack up and head out without even getting a reason--like the last months had never happened, and nothing has changed.
He doesn't know why he goes. It's been nearly a year, and they're both obviously out of things to say, or they would have tried to say them long before now. Maybe it was the panicked edge to the voice on the message, or maybe he wasn't as changed as he liked to pretend, but either way, there's no point turning back now that he's come all the way here.
He hasn't been this far east for awhile now and it's colder than he remembers. The wind tears at his overheated skin, and it's not entirely unpleasant, but it brings back a lot of memories he'd rather not drag up. A little late to want to pretend they aren't there, though, considering who he's coming to meet. He drops down onto the curb with a sigh, and rests his forearms on his knees.
Corner of Mason and Cross, 10:00 PM on Monday; that was all the message said. It was stupid of him to come, to pack up and head out without even getting a reason--like the last months had never happened, and nothing has changed. John sighs and runs a hand down his face, and he's just starting to wonder if he's too late when he catches sight of a moving shadow to his right, and he feels more than sees the flash of an igniting lighter, and the tip of a newly burning cigarette.
"You're late," he says. He doesn't say 'I thought maybe you weren't coming', but John can hear it in his voice.
"Traffic was a bitch." He looks up, and Bobby steps beneath the streetlight, strangely shadowed as he sucks in ash and burnt air from his cigarette. He snorts. "Since when do you smoke?"
"Since you left," he says softly, and leans against the lamppost. He looks older, but mostly just around the eyes. The rest of him hasn't changed much.
John's lips quirk upwards. "You're spending too much time with Logan, Drake."
"I spent too much time with you," he counters easily. Bobby never used to be that quick to respond. It used to be he stumbled over his sentences and apologized before he'd done anything wrong.
John shakes his head. "I don't smoke." He grins again. "They say it's bad for your health."
"Funny how it reminds me of you anyway," he says, and glances at his feet. "How's life on the run?"
"I'm not running from anything," John says, and he leans back, planting his hands on the sidewalk. "Why'd you call me, Drake?"
"Why'd you give me your number?" Bobby says instantly, slightly defensive, but a little curious all the same.
John laughs, and glances away, down the street. There are no cars driving by this late, but there are still a few lights on in the building windows. There were always a few people that never went to sleep in any given place. "I gave it to you the week after I left, in case you ever needed help, so what is it you want? What have you gotten yourself into that the gloried X-Men can't get you out of?"
"I'm not in trouble, John," he says.
John's eyes narrowed. "Then why the hell am I here? You set me up, or something? Come to take me in?"
"Why would I?" Bobby asks. "You left the Brotherhood."
John's eyes widen slightly. "How the hell do you know?"
"Magneto was taken in again last night," Bobby says. "I'm not surprised you haven't heard. They're trying to keep it off the news. Mystique was almost killed."
John stiffens. "Is she alright?"
Bobby doesn't seem to hear him. He's looking at the ground. "She looked like you when Wolverine stabbed her."
John glances down at his feet. "He never did like me, you know. Mystique...is she--"
"I couldn't breathe for a moment," Bobby says vaguely. "I thought you were dead."
"Is she okay?" John asks again. "Look, I know you probably don't care but I--"
"I'm sure she'll be fine," Bobby snaps, sounding irritated. "Wolverine has gotten her before and she was fine. She's got three more scars, that's all."
John let out a breath. "Good."
"She's still in prison," Bobby says. "She'll be there the rest of her life, and Magneto will too."
John flashes him a wry grin. "Yeah, well, we'll see."
"Why weren't you with them?" Bobby asks.
"Why was Mystique posing as me?" John asks instead of answering, and Bobby glares at him, and takes another drag on his cigarette.
"She came into the school, pretending it was you wanting to come home so they could take us by surprise. Magneto showed up. They were there for Cerebo." Bobby drops the cigarette to the ground, and John watches it fall, burns it the rest of the way before it hits the ground. Bobby goes to snuff it out with his sneaker, but there's nothing but ashes left. "So why weren't you there?"
"I didn't want to be," John says. "So I wasn't."
"Did you know they were planning an attack on the school?" Bobby asks. He's staring at the small pile of ashes on the ground, and he sounds a little like he doesn't really want to know.
John glances up at him. "Yeah. I knew."
"You could have warned us, John," Bobby says loudly, and his voice echoes a little off the streets.
John can hear ice cracking, and he watches it form on the palms of Bobby's hands, and break apart again when he clenches them into fists. "Didn't think you'd believe me if I tried," he says. "I told Magneto I wouldn't help him do it. After a year, what more did you expect?"
"Too much, as usual," Bobby says, and turns around, facing the street. His shoulders are square and level, because Bobby is always trying to look the part. John just leans back that little bit further so he can see him from where he's sitting on the ground.
"But you stopped them," he says.
"I didn't do anything," Bobby says quietly. "I couldn't fucking move. I thought you were dead, John." Bobby takes a deep breath, and starts again. "Xavier and Cyclops stopped Magneto, Wolverine stopped Mystique, and I just stood there." Bobby turns back around again, and he doesn't look so much older anymore.
"You're good at that--doing nothing," John says, but his tone is more resigned than cruel. He's never understood why Bobby never seems to want to fight.
Bobby's eyes flare up. "You didn't do a damn thing, either."
"Yeah, but the difference is, Bobby, I just don't care," John tilts his head back, and stares at the sky; mostly just so he won't have to meet Bobby's eyes.
"If you didn't care then why weren't you with them?" Bobby asks.
"Thought it was a stupid plan," John says. "And I think if anything Cerebo should be blown to hell, before it's used to try and kill us all again or Xavier concentrates a little too hard while he's looking to find some pathetic new recruit."
"Why did Magneto want it?" Bobby asks, looking a little sick.
"Why do you think?" John asks. "He found another telepath. Was gonna use him to destroy the human race."
"And you were just going to let it happen," Bobby says.
"It's not my problem," John tells him. "It's not like they'd lift a finger if it was us."
"And what about me?" Bobby asks quietly. "You didn't care if I was hurt, either?"
"We made our choices," John says. "You want to be a hero I can't stop you."
"I'm not a hero," Bobby says. "I couldn't even save you."
"Don't beat yourself up about it," John tells him. "It's not like I ever had any intention of playing your damsel in distress."
Bobby drops down onto the curb beside him with a heavy sigh, and places his head in his hands. John frowns as he watches him, because this isn't Bobby behavior. Bobby was all about preaching for the good in life, and convincing people that their glass is half full.
"Why did you call me, really?" John asks him.
Bobby takes in a shuddering breath, and doesn't look up. "Even once I knew it was Mystique and not you, I didn't know you were alive. I didn't know why they had to use her when they had you."
"I don't belong to them," John says tightly. "I don't belong to anyone. I don't do anything I don't want to."
"So you always say," Bobby says, "but it was easier if I told myself Magneto had some kind of power over you."
"Well, he doesn't," John says. "I think he's a good man. That's all."
"A good man?" Bobby shouts, and he's on his feet again, standing in front of John and looking down. "He's a murderer, John. He nearly killed Rogue and then he takes you--"
"He didn't take me, Bobby," John says, slowly so he'll understand. "I left. There's a difference."
Bobby turns away with a strange sound low in his throat, and places his hands on the streetlamp. He leans his forehead against it, and John watches as frost spreads out from it until all he can see on the metal pole is ice. "Why did you come?" he asks. "I told you why I called. Why did you come?"
"Because you called," John says simply.
Bobby steps closer again, and glances at him sideways. "And why did you leave?"
"Because you let me," John says.
"Nothing's that simple, John," Bobby snaps. "If I'd called eight months ago--"
"I would have come," John says. "But you didn't, Bobby, and it doesn't really matter now."
"You can't put this all on me," Bobby says angrily. "You left. You're the one that left."
John laughs. "Right. It's always me. Whatever, Drake. Think what you want." John gets to his feet. "You wanted to know if I was alive. Question answered. Don't call again."
Bobby grabs his arm when he turns to leave, and sends them both crashing into the nearest wall. John's head slams into the bricks behind him and he gets dizzy for a moment, before the feeling fades, and the cold blue eyes glaring at him come into focus.
"Well," John says. "I guess you did learn something at that school after all. You want a fight, then you've got one."
"I don't want a fight," Bobby says, but his hands are still twisted in John's jacket, and he shows no signs of letting go. "I'm sick of fighting."
"You haven't even started yet," John says, but when he reaches for his lighter Bobby grabs his wrists, and slams them onto the wall beside his head.
"Just listen," Bobby says. "For once in your life, John, listen."
"You've got a minute," John says, going pliable in Bobby's hands, "and then I'm blowing up the third story of the building behind us, because someone up there has a fireplace."
"You wouldn't," Bobby says, tightening his grip.
"You're wasting time," John tells him.
Bobby falls against him with something between a sigh and a sob, and rests his forehead against John's. "You said you left because I let you," Bobby says. "Now I'm trying to stop you, but you don't want to be stopped, John."
"I just don't want to go backwards," John says, looking startled, the way he always did when Bobby shows all his cards, made himself vulnerable. He should've learned by now not to; John has known it since before he was ten. "And your time is almost up."
"You're always testing everyone," Bobby says. "You push us all until we push back; don't you ever quit, John? God, aren't you tired of it?"
"Do you get tired of trying to save everyone?" John asks.
Bobby shakes his head. "I've never managed to save anyone."
"I said try," John tells him mercilessly.
Bobby lets go of him and backs away like he's been burned. "You're a bastard, you know that?" he snaps.
"It's not exactly breaking news," John tosses back, and sticks his hands in his pockets.
Bobby sighs, like maybe he's just now remembering what John is like, why he left in the first place, why they always had more fights than civil conversations. "What are you going to do now?" he asks.
"What, like you care all the sudden?" John asks.
Bobby flinches, and then looks up to glare at him. "I never fucking stopped, John. I was never the one with issues about caring for someone, that was all you."
"Right," John says. "Because I'm the one that found the only person in the school that couldn't be touched to fall in love with."
"Why does it always come back to Rogue with you?" Bobby snaps.
"Everything always comes back to her," John says, and shrugs. "Did you miss the memo? The world revolves around fucking Rogue and her poor little tortured life."
"I came here because of you, you asshole," Bobby snaps. "Although I admit that at the moment I can't remember why." Bobby ran a hand through his hair, looking one way and then the other, like he's forgotten where he is. "I left, you know."
John bit his tongue, flicked his lighter open, then closed, and Bobby kept talking.
"I can't...I'm just not right for the part. I can't be an X-Men. It was different before, but when you left--"
"Christ, Drake, you really do blame me for everything, don't you?" John snaps.
Bobby turns to glare at him. "Maybe it just took you leaving to realize my world used to center on you. You balance me out, John, always have. I've been off kilter since the moment you left."
"I've been fine," John says, and shrugs. "You shouldn't admit to weakness, Drake. Not everyone needs a counterweight to function."
Bobby keeps glaring, ignoring him. "We were never going to make it," he says, "were we? We were always going to end up like this."
John shrugs, and glances away. "Doesn't everyone? No one really has it together, Drake."
Bobby is silent so John just sighs, and starts walking. There's really no point in staying any longer. He knows this is just the goodbye they've been putting off. Bobby likes to have his loose ends all nicely tied away, and he'd want this particular loose thread tied away tight before he heads off to start some new life.
"Hey, John!"
John pauses, almost doesn't turn back, but then Bobby is right there anyway. He grabs John's hand and closes it around a slip of paper, before turning away again. John stays where he is until Bobby is out of sight.
He looks at the paper under one of the streetlights.
It's a phone number, and underneath it, in Bobby's hurried scrawl, it says, just in case you ever need saving.
He doesn't know why he goes. It's been nearly a year, and they're both obviously out of things to say, or they would have tried to say them long before now. Maybe it was the panicked edge to the voice on the message, or maybe he wasn't as changed as he liked to pretend, but either way, there's no point turning back now that he's come all the way here.
He hasn't been this far east for awhile now and it's colder than he remembers. The wind tears at his overheated skin, and it's not entirely unpleasant, but it brings back a lot of memories he'd rather not drag up. A little late to want to pretend they aren't there, though, considering who he's coming to meet. He drops down onto the curb with a sigh, and rests his forearms on his knees.
Corner of Mason and Cross, 10:00 PM on Monday; that was all the message said. It was stupid of him to come, to pack up and head out without even getting a reason--like the last months had never happened, and nothing has changed. John sighs and runs a hand down his face, and he's just starting to wonder if he's too late when he catches sight of a moving shadow to his right, and he feels more than sees the flash of an igniting lighter, and the tip of a newly burning cigarette.
"You're late," he says. He doesn't say 'I thought maybe you weren't coming', but John can hear it in his voice.
"Traffic was a bitch." He looks up, and Bobby steps beneath the streetlight, strangely shadowed as he sucks in ash and burnt air from his cigarette. He snorts. "Since when do you smoke?"
"Since you left," he says softly, and leans against the lamppost. He looks older, but mostly just around the eyes. The rest of him hasn't changed much.
John's lips quirk upwards. "You're spending too much time with Logan, Drake."
"I spent too much time with you," he counters easily. Bobby never used to be that quick to respond. It used to be he stumbled over his sentences and apologized before he'd done anything wrong.
John shakes his head. "I don't smoke." He grins again. "They say it's bad for your health."
"Funny how it reminds me of you anyway," he says, and glances at his feet. "How's life on the run?"
"I'm not running from anything," John says, and he leans back, planting his hands on the sidewalk. "Why'd you call me, Drake?"
"Why'd you give me your number?" Bobby says instantly, slightly defensive, but a little curious all the same.
John laughs, and glances away, down the street. There are no cars driving by this late, but there are still a few lights on in the building windows. There were always a few people that never went to sleep in any given place. "I gave it to you the week after I left, in case you ever needed help, so what is it you want? What have you gotten yourself into that the gloried X-Men can't get you out of?"
"I'm not in trouble, John," he says.
John's eyes narrowed. "Then why the hell am I here? You set me up, or something? Come to take me in?"
"Why would I?" Bobby asks. "You left the Brotherhood."
John's eyes widen slightly. "How the hell do you know?"
"Magneto was taken in again last night," Bobby says. "I'm not surprised you haven't heard. They're trying to keep it off the news. Mystique was almost killed."
John stiffens. "Is she alright?"
Bobby doesn't seem to hear him. He's looking at the ground. "She looked like you when Wolverine stabbed her."
John glances down at his feet. "He never did like me, you know. Mystique...is she--"
"I couldn't breathe for a moment," Bobby says vaguely. "I thought you were dead."
"Is she okay?" John asks again. "Look, I know you probably don't care but I--"
"I'm sure she'll be fine," Bobby snaps, sounding irritated. "Wolverine has gotten her before and she was fine. She's got three more scars, that's all."
John let out a breath. "Good."
"She's still in prison," Bobby says. "She'll be there the rest of her life, and Magneto will too."
John flashes him a wry grin. "Yeah, well, we'll see."
"Why weren't you with them?" Bobby asks.
"Why was Mystique posing as me?" John asks instead of answering, and Bobby glares at him, and takes another drag on his cigarette.
"She came into the school, pretending it was you wanting to come home so they could take us by surprise. Magneto showed up. They were there for Cerebo." Bobby drops the cigarette to the ground, and John watches it fall, burns it the rest of the way before it hits the ground. Bobby goes to snuff it out with his sneaker, but there's nothing but ashes left. "So why weren't you there?"
"I didn't want to be," John says. "So I wasn't."
"Did you know they were planning an attack on the school?" Bobby asks. He's staring at the small pile of ashes on the ground, and he sounds a little like he doesn't really want to know.
John glances up at him. "Yeah. I knew."
"You could have warned us, John," Bobby says loudly, and his voice echoes a little off the streets.
John can hear ice cracking, and he watches it form on the palms of Bobby's hands, and break apart again when he clenches them into fists. "Didn't think you'd believe me if I tried," he says. "I told Magneto I wouldn't help him do it. After a year, what more did you expect?"
"Too much, as usual," Bobby says, and turns around, facing the street. His shoulders are square and level, because Bobby is always trying to look the part. John just leans back that little bit further so he can see him from where he's sitting on the ground.
"But you stopped them," he says.
"I didn't do anything," Bobby says quietly. "I couldn't fucking move. I thought you were dead, John." Bobby takes a deep breath, and starts again. "Xavier and Cyclops stopped Magneto, Wolverine stopped Mystique, and I just stood there." Bobby turns back around again, and he doesn't look so much older anymore.
"You're good at that--doing nothing," John says, but his tone is more resigned than cruel. He's never understood why Bobby never seems to want to fight.
Bobby's eyes flare up. "You didn't do a damn thing, either."
"Yeah, but the difference is, Bobby, I just don't care," John tilts his head back, and stares at the sky; mostly just so he won't have to meet Bobby's eyes.
"If you didn't care then why weren't you with them?" Bobby asks.
"Thought it was a stupid plan," John says. "And I think if anything Cerebo should be blown to hell, before it's used to try and kill us all again or Xavier concentrates a little too hard while he's looking to find some pathetic new recruit."
"Why did Magneto want it?" Bobby asks, looking a little sick.
"Why do you think?" John asks. "He found another telepath. Was gonna use him to destroy the human race."
"And you were just going to let it happen," Bobby says.
"It's not my problem," John tells him. "It's not like they'd lift a finger if it was us."
"And what about me?" Bobby asks quietly. "You didn't care if I was hurt, either?"
"We made our choices," John says. "You want to be a hero I can't stop you."
"I'm not a hero," Bobby says. "I couldn't even save you."
"Don't beat yourself up about it," John tells him. "It's not like I ever had any intention of playing your damsel in distress."
Bobby drops down onto the curb beside him with a heavy sigh, and places his head in his hands. John frowns as he watches him, because this isn't Bobby behavior. Bobby was all about preaching for the good in life, and convincing people that their glass is half full.
"Why did you call me, really?" John asks him.
Bobby takes in a shuddering breath, and doesn't look up. "Even once I knew it was Mystique and not you, I didn't know you were alive. I didn't know why they had to use her when they had you."
"I don't belong to them," John says tightly. "I don't belong to anyone. I don't do anything I don't want to."
"So you always say," Bobby says, "but it was easier if I told myself Magneto had some kind of power over you."
"Well, he doesn't," John says. "I think he's a good man. That's all."
"A good man?" Bobby shouts, and he's on his feet again, standing in front of John and looking down. "He's a murderer, John. He nearly killed Rogue and then he takes you--"
"He didn't take me, Bobby," John says, slowly so he'll understand. "I left. There's a difference."
Bobby turns away with a strange sound low in his throat, and places his hands on the streetlamp. He leans his forehead against it, and John watches as frost spreads out from it until all he can see on the metal pole is ice. "Why did you come?" he asks. "I told you why I called. Why did you come?"
"Because you called," John says simply.
Bobby steps closer again, and glances at him sideways. "And why did you leave?"
"Because you let me," John says.
"Nothing's that simple, John," Bobby snaps. "If I'd called eight months ago--"
"I would have come," John says. "But you didn't, Bobby, and it doesn't really matter now."
"You can't put this all on me," Bobby says angrily. "You left. You're the one that left."
John laughs. "Right. It's always me. Whatever, Drake. Think what you want." John gets to his feet. "You wanted to know if I was alive. Question answered. Don't call again."
Bobby grabs his arm when he turns to leave, and sends them both crashing into the nearest wall. John's head slams into the bricks behind him and he gets dizzy for a moment, before the feeling fades, and the cold blue eyes glaring at him come into focus.
"Well," John says. "I guess you did learn something at that school after all. You want a fight, then you've got one."
"I don't want a fight," Bobby says, but his hands are still twisted in John's jacket, and he shows no signs of letting go. "I'm sick of fighting."
"You haven't even started yet," John says, but when he reaches for his lighter Bobby grabs his wrists, and slams them onto the wall beside his head.
"Just listen," Bobby says. "For once in your life, John, listen."
"You've got a minute," John says, going pliable in Bobby's hands, "and then I'm blowing up the third story of the building behind us, because someone up there has a fireplace."
"You wouldn't," Bobby says, tightening his grip.
"You're wasting time," John tells him.
Bobby falls against him with something between a sigh and a sob, and rests his forehead against John's. "You said you left because I let you," Bobby says. "Now I'm trying to stop you, but you don't want to be stopped, John."
"I just don't want to go backwards," John says, looking startled, the way he always did when Bobby shows all his cards, made himself vulnerable. He should've learned by now not to; John has known it since before he was ten. "And your time is almost up."
"You're always testing everyone," Bobby says. "You push us all until we push back; don't you ever quit, John? God, aren't you tired of it?"
"Do you get tired of trying to save everyone?" John asks.
Bobby shakes his head. "I've never managed to save anyone."
"I said try," John tells him mercilessly.
Bobby lets go of him and backs away like he's been burned. "You're a bastard, you know that?" he snaps.
"It's not exactly breaking news," John tosses back, and sticks his hands in his pockets.
Bobby sighs, like maybe he's just now remembering what John is like, why he left in the first place, why they always had more fights than civil conversations. "What are you going to do now?" he asks.
"What, like you care all the sudden?" John asks.
Bobby flinches, and then looks up to glare at him. "I never fucking stopped, John. I was never the one with issues about caring for someone, that was all you."
"Right," John says. "Because I'm the one that found the only person in the school that couldn't be touched to fall in love with."
"Why does it always come back to Rogue with you?" Bobby snaps.
"Everything always comes back to her," John says, and shrugs. "Did you miss the memo? The world revolves around fucking Rogue and her poor little tortured life."
"I came here because of you, you asshole," Bobby snaps. "Although I admit that at the moment I can't remember why." Bobby ran a hand through his hair, looking one way and then the other, like he's forgotten where he is. "I left, you know."
John bit his tongue, flicked his lighter open, then closed, and Bobby kept talking.
"I can't...I'm just not right for the part. I can't be an X-Men. It was different before, but when you left--"
"Christ, Drake, you really do blame me for everything, don't you?" John snaps.
Bobby turns to glare at him. "Maybe it just took you leaving to realize my world used to center on you. You balance me out, John, always have. I've been off kilter since the moment you left."
"I've been fine," John says, and shrugs. "You shouldn't admit to weakness, Drake. Not everyone needs a counterweight to function."
Bobby keeps glaring, ignoring him. "We were never going to make it," he says, "were we? We were always going to end up like this."
John shrugs, and glances away. "Doesn't everyone? No one really has it together, Drake."
Bobby is silent so John just sighs, and starts walking. There's really no point in staying any longer. He knows this is just the goodbye they've been putting off. Bobby likes to have his loose ends all nicely tied away, and he'd want this particular loose thread tied away tight before he heads off to start some new life.
"Hey, John!"
John pauses, almost doesn't turn back, but then Bobby is right there anyway. He grabs John's hand and closes it around a slip of paper, before turning away again. John stays where he is until Bobby is out of sight.
He looks at the paper under one of the streetlights.
It's a phone number, and underneath it, in Bobby's hurried scrawl, it says, just in case you ever need saving.