(no subject)
7/4/2007
Remaining hidden isn't even a strain any more. Especially when one is alone. The sun is so low in the sky as to be only visible as a corona of deep magenta through the ruins of buildings and Jason is perched invisibly on a low wall that was once a fairly effective concrete barrier. Now ruins, like all else. He's watching the streets and not watching them. Nothing will move tonight, save eddies of almost negligible wind. That's all right. This is a form of resting.
Sabitha's step is slowing. Her posture is clearly tired as the sun begins to set. A bag hangs heavy from her back, stuffed with the days spoils, and her stride falters a touch as she turns to seek out her companion to voice her worry in a low-pitched voice. "I'm not sure we'll make it back before dark. Should we find somewhere to hole up?"
Shoulders drawn in tight as the shields over his mind, Bahir walks in a dragging pace at Sabitha's side. Short hair is fluffed messily, and he ruins it further with the drag of nails over his scalp. "Yeah. Sure. Do you want me to see if anyone's around?" he asks, straightening warily, and wearily.
Jason stirs from his gargoyle's perch, the flicker of footsteps and voices just loud enough to alert senses. If he can't distinguish what they are, can't even be positive that they're voices. He slips off the wall, wishing for Amp, useful hound.
Sabitha's gaze sweeps over Bahir, concerned and quiet as she notes weariness. "Are you okay to?" she wonders, already looking away to scan their surroundings for a likely safehouse for the night.
Bahir laughs, arrogance soft. "Okay enough for this. Just give me a moment." His eyes close as shields fall from his thoughts, and telepathy pulses outwards in a jagged hop-skip over minds nearby. Jason's habitual 'Don't look at me,' glamor is more than effective, and he passes over him.
And Jason crawls foward at a low-knee slide, the back of his hand running against the walls as he comes near to them and against air as he doesn't. And as Bahir scans, the voices become more distinct. Even . . . no way. Jason pauses, his head canted. And starts coming faster.
Sabitha moves along the block several paces, picking her way over a table and chair that have been tossed onto the ruins of the sidewalk at some point as her gaze scans wary across the towers of darkened windows. "Anything?" she murmurs.
"Nothing," Bahir says. "Not as far as I can reach." Which ... really isn't all that far compared to say, Frostian proportions. Still, he moves on with a lighter step, although his hand falls to the hidden weight of his gun. "Doesn't mean there won't be someone in front of us. Let's start looking for somewhere unoccupied."
No-- Yes. And Jason, suddenly terribly impatient, hyperventilating as he hasn't in some time, cheats. He throws his voice just above their heads. "Everywhere's occupied. Well, /well/, what have we here?"
"Doesn't look like much of anywhere is /occup--/," Sabby starts wryly before the sudden voice has her halting, fingers growing tight and tense around her gun. Her voice is strained as she asks, "Bahir?"
Bahir tenses, and his gun comes out. It is pointed low at the ground, but he seems prepared to lift it. Shields drop again, and he probes with more purpose, brushing aside the flimsy gloss of Jason's shields to find him. He blinks, which is totally unhelpful for Sabitha.
"/Bahir/?" Sabby insists, a touch frantically.
Jason has been closing the distance in the meantime, but if his mental shields are like saran-wrap when touched, his illusion remains intact and himself unaware of the intrusion. He does not "speak" again, his eyes narrowed now. Surprise has given way to wariness. Almost there.
"Wyngarde?" Bahir calls out. "--Jason?"
Sabitha straightens in surprise, and her gun lowers abruptly as her head whips toward Bahir, guard lost. "What?"
Close enough. Gun glowered. Jason fades into being some few meters away, all skinny length of him, spikes of matted hair, mangled fingers and all. "I go by Mastermind nowadays, but yes. /Hah/."
"Mastermind," Bahir says, according Jason the courtesy of whatever he cares to call himself. "I go by Bahir." He smiles briefly. "Fuck. Hi."
"/Jason/?" Sabby's jaw is unhinged for a moment before she remembers herself and snaps it shut, expression gone suspiciously tight. "You're-- fuck. Jason. We thought you were dead."
"Amazingly, we thought likewise. You never came back," Jason says, and if his expression is merrily . . . flat, his voice is borderline accusatory. "Where's Percy? Adel?"
Bahir doesn't answer. His throat has drawn tight, and he swallows.
Sabitha stiffens and draws one arm swift across her chest. She looks toward Bahir. An unconscious step moves her a touch closer to him, hip bumping against hip, before she answers succintly for them both. "Dead."
"Doesn't attrition eat at us all," Jason says, accusatory tone dipping dull. He takes a step forward, his eyes fixed between them. "Too bad. We've lost some, gained some. Everyone will be thrilled to have the lost back in the fold. Emma will, at least," he clarifies. "The others . . . may not remember. It's been fun, being the senior Hellion."
Bahir's hand slips around Sabitha's waist, half an unconscious reach to embrace her as she leans into him. He gives Jason a cranky look that clears to a baffled one. He looks at Sabitha, then Jason. He appears to be trying on the boss label for him and having trouble.
Sabitha does not look at Bahir again, but it's clear that her attention is focused on him, measuring where she can as she straightens a touch. Her voice chokes quiet disbelief. "Fun."
"Oh yeah. I could tell you stories." Jason's battered shoe drags his foot forward and his body stilt-steps after it. "I'm sure we could tell each other stories. People who've died in front of us, maybe." His eyes flick to Sabitha, than on Bahir, specifically. "Or in us. Hmm? Fun."
Eyes narrowing sharply, Bahir's head lifts. "We've been out of touch. How are things? How are the others?"
Sabitha's lips part for a sharper reply and then close again, pressing tightly into a thin line as Bahir speaks. Her weight shifts, and she leans into him just slightly. Jasson recieves an unpleasantly sharp gaze.
Jason's long fingers meet a thinly ragged scruff of a chin and scratch thoughtfully. His eyes avert. "Alive, mostly. We gather more than we lose, anyway. Been quiet lately. The nighmares follow us mostly in our sleep. You'd be safe enough." Jason's voice halts mid-thought. "Coming back. You will, right?"
Bahir's chin dips in a brief, jagged nod. "Yes," he says, tone carrying shades of relief. "If you are," he adds, looking at Sabitha.
Sabitha hesitates longer, and her gaze skitters sideways to look up at Bahir. She looks deeply uncertain even as she jerks her head up in something that looks like a nod.
"Heh." Jason knuckles one finger to drive it up into the underside of his eye. Another scratch. "It'll be just like old times. Only this time, we're actually saving New York inch by inch. Come on, you're excited." He lowers his finger.
"Save it, Mastermind," Bahir says, his tone weary. "I'll be excited later. Where are you guys stationed from? We looked, but it was just -- ransacked."
"Yeah, New York looks saved," Sabby bites. At her side, her fingers twitch in their curl around cold steel.
The gaps in the asphalt fill in. The buildings, battered shadows, glisten with glass and steel. Trees pull out of the concrete in parky lines. Pedestrians emerge shyly to touch foot to sidewalk. And Jason turns to walk up the avenue of this brave new world, his shouldered pulled tired-hunched. "Oh my gosh, magic. We're stationed from an old gas station today. Come on."
His expression wistful, Bahir says, "Asshole." Then he falls in line behind Jason, no complaints. His hand slides from Sabitha's waist to catch her hand and lace their fingers together.
Sabitha's hand is less eager, and there's a distinct tug backward before she steps forward to fall into pace beside Bahir. When she speaks, it's silent, a thought floating anxiously toward Bahir. << If they want to find us-- >>
The illusion fades before five minutes have passed, a gesture, nothing more. Jason, by all appearances trudging doggedly forward, disguises away an irrationally heated-jealous look back at the two. Hurrah for adversity breeding rapport.
<< I'm tired of being alone, with just the two of us, >> Bahir answers, a bare whisper of a thought. Hurrah for Jason, their loving rescuer.
<< You really want to go with him? >> Sabby wonders, glancing sideways at Bahir as her fingers tighten in his.
Jason turns away in reality as well as appearance, sucking his lip in between his teeth. Trudge, trudge.
<< Only if you do. >> Bahir: incapable of deciding on his own.
<< I haven't missed having to be scared every moment of the day, >> Sabby admits, mental tone dropping to something like a whisper. << Or watching people I love die. >>
Jason links his hands behind his back and walks just a touch faster.
<< They died when we left. >>
<< We left because they died. >>
Bahir rolls his eyes, and stops to turn and face Sabitha. "It's up to you," he says simply.
Jason presses a whisper of his whistle between his lips and hates the silence. Then he stops as Bahir does, and turns. Waiting.
Sabitha's hand drops free and she breathes hard for a moment as she studies Bahir. Her hand rises to latch onto her opposite elbow. "If they want to find us," she says, voice gone tight in her throat. "They will. And then we're all screwed."
"If they want to find us, and they will, and we're all screwed -- it won't matter if where we live," Bahir says in a flat tone. "It's a false sanctuary that we live in, if you take that view."
"Who?" Jason asks, for once, terse.
"Not--" Sabby breaks off, frustrated, and shakes her head. "/Haven/, Bahir. Jean Grey. Magneto. Do you think they're going to let us just walk out? After what they've done for us?" Quieter, a wistful thought floats unbidden to the front of her mind. << I want to see the crops grow. >>
"For fuck's sake." Bahir bites off on a sharp noise. "At the very least, we ought to tell Frost about Percy, and Adel. We won't get back to Haven tonight, anyway."
"You were in . . . Haven?" Jason's tone is neutral. His feelings perhaps less so. A little less so.
"Tonight is tonight! I'm talking about /after/. I'm talking about--" Sabby breaks off, frustrated and unhappy, and shakes her head. She pauses for a hard swallow and turns to move forward again. "Let's go."
Bahir's eyes only /half/ roll this time, and he turns after Sabitha and Jason to follow.
"Haven," Jason repeats, his lip curling up in a toothed smirk, and he turns, his steps slipping ahead again. "Oh dear."
AU, March 2007: Old friends reunited.
Remaining hidden isn't even a strain any more. Especially when one is alone. The sun is so low in the sky as to be only visible as a corona of deep magenta through the ruins of buildings and Jason is perched invisibly on a low wall that was once a fairly effective concrete barrier. Now ruins, like all else. He's watching the streets and not watching them. Nothing will move tonight, save eddies of almost negligible wind. That's all right. This is a form of resting.
Sabitha's step is slowing. Her posture is clearly tired as the sun begins to set. A bag hangs heavy from her back, stuffed with the days spoils, and her stride falters a touch as she turns to seek out her companion to voice her worry in a low-pitched voice. "I'm not sure we'll make it back before dark. Should we find somewhere to hole up?"
Shoulders drawn in tight as the shields over his mind, Bahir walks in a dragging pace at Sabitha's side. Short hair is fluffed messily, and he ruins it further with the drag of nails over his scalp. "Yeah. Sure. Do you want me to see if anyone's around?" he asks, straightening warily, and wearily.
Jason stirs from his gargoyle's perch, the flicker of footsteps and voices just loud enough to alert senses. If he can't distinguish what they are, can't even be positive that they're voices. He slips off the wall, wishing for Amp, useful hound.
Sabitha's gaze sweeps over Bahir, concerned and quiet as she notes weariness. "Are you okay to?" she wonders, already looking away to scan their surroundings for a likely safehouse for the night.
Bahir laughs, arrogance soft. "Okay enough for this. Just give me a moment." His eyes close as shields fall from his thoughts, and telepathy pulses outwards in a jagged hop-skip over minds nearby. Jason's habitual 'Don't look at me,' glamor is more than effective, and he passes over him.
And Jason crawls foward at a low-knee slide, the back of his hand running against the walls as he comes near to them and against air as he doesn't. And as Bahir scans, the voices become more distinct. Even . . . no way. Jason pauses, his head canted. And starts coming faster.
Sabitha moves along the block several paces, picking her way over a table and chair that have been tossed onto the ruins of the sidewalk at some point as her gaze scans wary across the towers of darkened windows. "Anything?" she murmurs.
"Nothing," Bahir says. "Not as far as I can reach." Which ... really isn't all that far compared to say, Frostian proportions. Still, he moves on with a lighter step, although his hand falls to the hidden weight of his gun. "Doesn't mean there won't be someone in front of us. Let's start looking for somewhere unoccupied."
No-- Yes. And Jason, suddenly terribly impatient, hyperventilating as he hasn't in some time, cheats. He throws his voice just above their heads. "Everywhere's occupied. Well, /well/, what have we here?"
"Doesn't look like much of anywhere is /occup--/," Sabby starts wryly before the sudden voice has her halting, fingers growing tight and tense around her gun. Her voice is strained as she asks, "Bahir?"
Bahir tenses, and his gun comes out. It is pointed low at the ground, but he seems prepared to lift it. Shields drop again, and he probes with more purpose, brushing aside the flimsy gloss of Jason's shields to find him. He blinks, which is totally unhelpful for Sabitha.
"/Bahir/?" Sabby insists, a touch frantically.
Jason has been closing the distance in the meantime, but if his mental shields are like saran-wrap when touched, his illusion remains intact and himself unaware of the intrusion. He does not "speak" again, his eyes narrowed now. Surprise has given way to wariness. Almost there.
"Wyngarde?" Bahir calls out. "--Jason?"
Sabitha straightens in surprise, and her gun lowers abruptly as her head whips toward Bahir, guard lost. "What?"
Close enough. Gun glowered. Jason fades into being some few meters away, all skinny length of him, spikes of matted hair, mangled fingers and all. "I go by Mastermind nowadays, but yes. /Hah/."
"Mastermind," Bahir says, according Jason the courtesy of whatever he cares to call himself. "I go by Bahir." He smiles briefly. "Fuck. Hi."
"/Jason/?" Sabby's jaw is unhinged for a moment before she remembers herself and snaps it shut, expression gone suspiciously tight. "You're-- fuck. Jason. We thought you were dead."
"Amazingly, we thought likewise. You never came back," Jason says, and if his expression is merrily . . . flat, his voice is borderline accusatory. "Where's Percy? Adel?"
Bahir doesn't answer. His throat has drawn tight, and he swallows.
Sabitha stiffens and draws one arm swift across her chest. She looks toward Bahir. An unconscious step moves her a touch closer to him, hip bumping against hip, before she answers succintly for them both. "Dead."
"Doesn't attrition eat at us all," Jason says, accusatory tone dipping dull. He takes a step forward, his eyes fixed between them. "Too bad. We've lost some, gained some. Everyone will be thrilled to have the lost back in the fold. Emma will, at least," he clarifies. "The others . . . may not remember. It's been fun, being the senior Hellion."
Bahir's hand slips around Sabitha's waist, half an unconscious reach to embrace her as she leans into him. He gives Jason a cranky look that clears to a baffled one. He looks at Sabitha, then Jason. He appears to be trying on the boss label for him and having trouble.
Sabitha does not look at Bahir again, but it's clear that her attention is focused on him, measuring where she can as she straightens a touch. Her voice chokes quiet disbelief. "Fun."
"Oh yeah. I could tell you stories." Jason's battered shoe drags his foot forward and his body stilt-steps after it. "I'm sure we could tell each other stories. People who've died in front of us, maybe." His eyes flick to Sabitha, than on Bahir, specifically. "Or in us. Hmm? Fun."
Eyes narrowing sharply, Bahir's head lifts. "We've been out of touch. How are things? How are the others?"
Sabitha's lips part for a sharper reply and then close again, pressing tightly into a thin line as Bahir speaks. Her weight shifts, and she leans into him just slightly. Jasson recieves an unpleasantly sharp gaze.
Jason's long fingers meet a thinly ragged scruff of a chin and scratch thoughtfully. His eyes avert. "Alive, mostly. We gather more than we lose, anyway. Been quiet lately. The nighmares follow us mostly in our sleep. You'd be safe enough." Jason's voice halts mid-thought. "Coming back. You will, right?"
Bahir's chin dips in a brief, jagged nod. "Yes," he says, tone carrying shades of relief. "If you are," he adds, looking at Sabitha.
Sabitha hesitates longer, and her gaze skitters sideways to look up at Bahir. She looks deeply uncertain even as she jerks her head up in something that looks like a nod.
"Heh." Jason knuckles one finger to drive it up into the underside of his eye. Another scratch. "It'll be just like old times. Only this time, we're actually saving New York inch by inch. Come on, you're excited." He lowers his finger.
"Save it, Mastermind," Bahir says, his tone weary. "I'll be excited later. Where are you guys stationed from? We looked, but it was just -- ransacked."
"Yeah, New York looks saved," Sabby bites. At her side, her fingers twitch in their curl around cold steel.
The gaps in the asphalt fill in. The buildings, battered shadows, glisten with glass and steel. Trees pull out of the concrete in parky lines. Pedestrians emerge shyly to touch foot to sidewalk. And Jason turns to walk up the avenue of this brave new world, his shouldered pulled tired-hunched. "Oh my gosh, magic. We're stationed from an old gas station today. Come on."
His expression wistful, Bahir says, "Asshole." Then he falls in line behind Jason, no complaints. His hand slides from Sabitha's waist to catch her hand and lace their fingers together.
Sabitha's hand is less eager, and there's a distinct tug backward before she steps forward to fall into pace beside Bahir. When she speaks, it's silent, a thought floating anxiously toward Bahir. << If they want to find us-- >>
The illusion fades before five minutes have passed, a gesture, nothing more. Jason, by all appearances trudging doggedly forward, disguises away an irrationally heated-jealous look back at the two. Hurrah for adversity breeding rapport.
<< I'm tired of being alone, with just the two of us, >> Bahir answers, a bare whisper of a thought. Hurrah for Jason, their loving rescuer.
<< You really want to go with him? >> Sabby wonders, glancing sideways at Bahir as her fingers tighten in his.
Jason turns away in reality as well as appearance, sucking his lip in between his teeth. Trudge, trudge.
<< Only if you do. >> Bahir: incapable of deciding on his own.
<< I haven't missed having to be scared every moment of the day, >> Sabby admits, mental tone dropping to something like a whisper. << Or watching people I love die. >>
Jason links his hands behind his back and walks just a touch faster.
<< They died when we left. >>
<< We left because they died. >>
Bahir rolls his eyes, and stops to turn and face Sabitha. "It's up to you," he says simply.
Jason presses a whisper of his whistle between his lips and hates the silence. Then he stops as Bahir does, and turns. Waiting.
Sabitha's hand drops free and she breathes hard for a moment as she studies Bahir. Her hand rises to latch onto her opposite elbow. "If they want to find us," she says, voice gone tight in her throat. "They will. And then we're all screwed."
"If they want to find us, and they will, and we're all screwed -- it won't matter if where we live," Bahir says in a flat tone. "It's a false sanctuary that we live in, if you take that view."
"Who?" Jason asks, for once, terse.
"Not--" Sabby breaks off, frustrated, and shakes her head. "/Haven/, Bahir. Jean Grey. Magneto. Do you think they're going to let us just walk out? After what they've done for us?" Quieter, a wistful thought floats unbidden to the front of her mind. << I want to see the crops grow. >>
"For fuck's sake." Bahir bites off on a sharp noise. "At the very least, we ought to tell Frost about Percy, and Adel. We won't get back to Haven tonight, anyway."
"You were in . . . Haven?" Jason's tone is neutral. His feelings perhaps less so. A little less so.
"Tonight is tonight! I'm talking about /after/. I'm talking about--" Sabby breaks off, frustrated and unhappy, and shakes her head. She pauses for a hard swallow and turns to move forward again. "Let's go."
Bahir's eyes only /half/ roll this time, and he turns after Sabitha and Jason to follow.
"Haven," Jason repeats, his lip curling up in a toothed smirk, and he turns, his steps slipping ahead again. "Oh dear."
AU, March 2007: Old friends reunited.