The Death March - Part Ten [completed RP]

[john_ispyro]

Title: The Death March
Part: Ten - The Best Friend
Previously: Prologue | One | Two | Three| Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine
Note: completed RP with the fabulous doug_ramsey and the amazing tm_northstar. No, seriously, many hugs and virtual cookies to them for playing along with my insane little plot here. *mwahs*

Takes place early Sunday afternoon...

It had been a few days since that day in South Africa; the day that John and Doug found out that there would be no 'cure' for John. That the very last item he needed on his list just didn't exist - at least, not in this time and place. They'd made the decision to come back to New York City, but John just wasn't in a rush at the moment. He'd been in such a rush for weeks on end that he just wanted to take a couple days to chill and rest, and be with Doug alone, for a few days before travelling again.

But they were back now. John rented a fancy suite at a posh hotel, just like he said he would. Big and spacious, with a master room for John and Doug, and a full kitchen, and a room or two to spare.

John had already been to a meeting with his lawyers that day, who had a way with supernatural dealings (such as representing a dead guy), so that was useful. And they worked fast, too. He was free of the Freedom Force, his and Doug's pardons still in tact, and he had sold back their penthouse for millions of dollars. It was that, or he said he'd sell it dirt cheap - or maybe just give it away - to anyone he wanted, and he could think of quite a few people that Freedom Force didn't want in their property. They took his deal, which he figured they would.

In the corner a spare bedroom was a small pile of boxes; the few personal possessions that John had in the world. He wasn't very good at keeping things for sentimental reasons. It'd been bred into him that way, over the years; being a transient street kid, a charity case at the Institute, and then constantly moving with the Brotherhood. He didn't need much. But what he had, it was here. He had no idea what to do with it now. And next to it sat the metal locked box that held everything he'd collected from the Death March. Mariola had told him not to get rid of it quite yet, she'd keep an ear to the ground and research into the pan-dimensional black market and every source she could. John wanted to throw it all off the balcony that day, he was so pissed off, but Doug wouldn't let him.

He frowned at it, and the other boxes, and turned away. He couldn't stand to look at them right now.

"I'm going to go to nap a bit," John said to Doug as he left the spare room. He went over to the couch and leaning over the back of it, kissing Doug quick. "I'm fucking exhausted." It's said with a bit of disdain in his voice; he was so fucking sick and tired of being so… fucking sick and tired.

"Yeah, 'k. Want me to join?"

John shook his head. "Dude, you don't need to sleep as often as me, or need it like I do. You don't have to every time I do. You'll be, like, bored or something. It's cool."

"If you're sure…"

"Not that I mind you in my bed…" he said, mock leering, but then shrugged. "But, I'm sure. Watch your movie, it's cool."

John turned to go to the bedroom, but stopped and turned back to Doug. "Uh. Let's call JP today. Well, you should call JP today. And get him over here. And maybe do some pre-explaining before I see and/or talk to him. Because the last thing I need right now is him going apeshit on me like you did." He laughed softly as Doug stuck his tongue out. "Well, you did. But, yeah. I think that'll work. Or we can do it tomorrow. Whatever."

"I'll do it when you're sleeping."

John nodded, and gave Doug another quick kiss. "Cool."

And then John went to go and get his much needed sleep. He was going to have to be well rested to face JP with this news.
Doug sat next to the phone for a while, thinking about what he might say, thinking about how JP might react, wondering if he should put on a helmet and body armor just in case JP came at him with a hockey stick. He had to think about which number to dial - where was JP these days, anyway? - but in the end he tapped in JP's cell number, and wondered if he'd get voicemail. But instead: "'Allo?"

"Um, hi. It's Doug. Ramsey. Yes. Obviously. You knew that. Can you talk now?"

"If I couldn't, I wouldn't have answered. That IS why they invented caller ID, Douglas." Jean-Paul's voice was dryly amused. "What's up?"

"Uh, well. I'm back in New York. Finished traveling. And, um, yeah. wanted to explain about just disappearing like that. The truth is I've been on sort of a quest, finding lots of weird things all over the globe. And I've been doing that because, well..." The rambling really had to stop. "John's alive, JP. Pyro. He's alive. really."

Dead silence from the other end.

"I'm coming over to your place, Doug," Jean-Paul finally said. "And I'm going to beat the shit out of you. You have exactly three minutes to prepare for that."

Goddammit. He knew he should've worn the helmet. "No bullshit, JP. I swear."

"Three minutes, Doug. Less than that, actually. I'm gonna hang up now."

"Er. Okay. Bye? Oh! Except! We're not at my place. We're at a hotel." And he gave the address before hanging up.

Doug peeked in at Pyro, asleep, and wondered how on earth he was going to deal with a very angry JP without waking up John prematurely, or getting beaten to a pulp. Honestly. He kept ending up in the worst situations.

Jean-Paul, meanwhile, flipped his phone shut, opened a window, and stepped out into thin air. He took a moment to breathe and then minutes later was zooming up the hotel stairs to arrive at the room Doug had specified. He knocked on the door rapidly, not quite hammering.

It was easy enough to tell when Jean-Paul was at the door. Doug went over to answer it, opening the door wide and stepping aside in case Jean-Paul was really telling the truth about beating him up. "Hi," he said quickly. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't yell too much. J's trying to get some sleep. He wanted me to talk to you first so he wouldn't have to deal with all the yelling and, er, punching."

"Prove he's alive and I won't knock your teeth out." Jean-Paul crossed his arms over his chest, partially to keep his temper in check. He really did sort of want to punch Doug's lights out. Another part of him, the saner rational part that actually DID exist, was frantically trying to figure out if Doug had maybe lost his mind.

"Well, okay," Doug said, closing the door. "But you have to promise not to wake him up yet. I have to explain a lot to you and things, and he'll be really pissed off with me if you wake him up now. He just got to sleep."

Jean-Paul nodded. "I won't wake him up." Mentally he steeled himself, convinced Doug was going to show him an empty bed or a horrifying blow-up-doll dressed in Pyro's old hoodies or something. When that happened he decided he'd agree, excuse himself, and call the nice men in white coats. The good ones. He'd have to call Harry Osborn first...

Doug led him towards the door to the bedroom, and nudged it open a bit, careful not to make any noise. Inside the room, the blinds were drawn, but there was enough light to see a young man asleep in the bed, blankets drawn around him as if he were cold, his face turned towards the door. He looked a little older than when Jean-Paul had seem him last, and a lot more tired, his hair paler, but it was indisputably John Allerdyce, and he was indisputably breathing.

Doug stood back to let JP see.

Jean-Paul took a very long, measured look at the sleeping form. He then nodded and turned away, walking back to the main room. He stopped there, considering, and then walked to one of the empty corners and sat down with his back wedged against the walls. He pulled his legs up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, finally looking up at Doug.

"So. He's alive," Jean-Paul said, and promptly burst into tears. He put his face against his knees and cried violently, although nearly without sound.

"Um, yeah," Doug said, having closed the door again, and walked over to where Jean-Paul was. He decided not to bring up the fact that Jean-Paul was sitting on the floor. This was really the least of the weirdness currently going on around them. "Toad pumped him full of a lot of weird shit, though. It's killing him. We've been on a sort of mystical quest for weeks, looking for lots of weird and wonderful objects to save John's life. And we almost got them all. Almost. Except one - the last thing we needed apparently doesn't even exist anymore. So John's going to die. Not of cancer, or being blown up, but of... I don't know. Magic. You're not supposed to die of magic. It's not even supposed to exist. But."

At the end of this speech, he thinks he knows why JP is sitting on the floor. Doug sits down there with him. "He's got maybe four to six weeks, JP. He's still dying. But he wanted to see you again."

Jean-Paul could hear everything Doug was saying, and he understood it. He just couldn't seem to stop sobbing long enough to form a coherant reply. So he just stayed where he was, body shaking, mouth working soundlessly, until eventually the emotional torrent slowed. He took a few deep breaths and raised his head to look at Doug.

"What happened to the last thing?" he asked, wincing at how raw his voice sounded. "Did it go extinct or something?"

"Um, it was a cauldron, so... I don't know," Doug said. "A mystic told us it no longer existed in this space and time, so I guess it was destroyed, somehow." He edged closer to JP. "I really don't think we can do anything, JP. Messing around with time never got anyone anywhere. J's accepted it, probably better than I have. But... I don't know. I'm always open to suggestions."

"Mike?" JP suggested feebly. "Or... fuck, I don't know. Illyana? They can't just... We can't get him back and lose him AGAIN. That's..." He lowered his head again and spoke into his knees. "That's not fair. No. Nonononononono. I won't allow it. I'll become a priest. I'll donate sperm. Whatever God wants. Just. No. Not again. Not again. No.""

Doug nodded. "I know. I thought of Mike, too. I really don't think we can ask Illyana. We might lose someone else. But, yeah, with all the super people we know...There must be some kind of way." And he frowned. "What does donating sperm have to do with it?"

"God likes babies," Jean-Paul replied to his knees. "I killed one and look what happened. Maybe if I knock up every girl I know..."

Doug looked mildly horrified. "Er. No. How about we talk to Mike and some other people before you start jacking off for Jesus, okay?"

Jean-Paul burst into horrified giggles. "I'm putting that on a t-shirt." He lifted his head and blinked rapidly, trying to will his tear ducts to dry up. "Okay. We talk to Mike. We camp out on Dr. Strange's doorstep if we have to. We can figure this out. You're a genius and I'm amazing, so this is not an impossible problem." Jean-Paul turned to Doug and put a hand on one of his shoulders.

"I won't let you lose him again," he promised quietly. "I won't."

Doug leaned against him, flinging an arm around him in a sort of awkward, and really not manly at all, hug. "Okay," he said quietly. "It's a deal."

He checked his watch. Really not very much time at all had passed, but, well. He could make sure that J. got enough sleep later on. "I'll go and see if he's ready to see you for a bit, okay?"

"I don't care if he isn't," Jean-Paul said, sounding highly offended. "You wake him up and tell him he has five minutes to get pants on before I come in there and kick his ass."

Doug elbowed JP in the ribs as he got up and crossed over to the bedroom. Once inside, he sat down on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on John's shoulder. "J? You awake?"

Doug has to shake John's shoulder a couple times, to rouse him from his sleep. "Hmm?" John said, muffled. He wrenched one bleary eye open, seeing Doug sitting there. "Babe?"

"JP's here. He knows."

That woke John up quicker. "Oh. Oh. Ok." He sat up in the bed, and rubbed at his eyes. "How'd he take it?"

"How do you think he took it? Not good. But he wants to see you. Like, now."

"Right." John threw the cover off of him, swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was wearing a pair of black sweatpants, really big and baggy on him now, and he reached down to the floor to grab his long-sleeved shirt, and pulled it over his head. The last thing JP needed was to see his thin frame (he'd lost weight in the past few weeks) covered in bruises and bumps. He hated that Doug had to look at it, he wasn't going to make his newly-freaked best friend look at it too. He grabbed his black baseball cap off the side table and put it on backwards.

John took in a deep breath, and stood up.

"Okay," he said quietly. "Let's do this."

John walked out of the bedroom, Doug close on his heels, and looked around. He saw Jean-Paul sitting in the corner, looking up at him. JP's eyes were red-rimmed and he'd obviously been crying. Oh, great. John wasn't good with criers. So, he dealt with it the only way he knew how, especially with JP.

"You told me you had your tear ducts surgically removed, you lying prick." But, insult or no, it was said jokingly. He really didn't want this to be a bad Hallmark Movie Of The Week sappy moment, not with JP.

But he understood it was a serious moment, he really did. He nodded his head in greeting. "Hey, JP." He couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Please," Jean-Paul said as he stood up. "I'm weeping for the defeat of the Habs this season and nothing more." He looked John over critically and frowned. "You look like shit."

As soon as he said it he realised that was probably a stupid and insensitive thing to say to a dying man. Oh well. Jean-Paul sighed and walked over to John, took him solemnly by the shoulders, and gently kissed either cheek. "I mean it. You REALLY look like shit."

John, never overly affectionate before, let JP do his greeting thing. And even put his hands lightly on JP's waist as he did, but let them fall soon after. "Yeah, well," he said, shrugging. "I feel like it."

He nodded his head over to the couches. "Dude, let's sit. You know. Catch up and all that shit. Ask me anything you want."

"You guys hungry?" Doug said randomly, and they look over at him. "What am I saying? JP is always hungry. Food! I'll get some. And you guys, um. Talk or whatever." Doug kissed John's cheek, and quickly made his exit, calling out goodbye and letting the best friends have their time.

"So," John said once they sat down. "How's it going?"

"You died and my boyfriend got sucked into a black hole," Jean-Paul said, deadpan. "How do you THINK it's going? I spent a week in the middle of Ontario with Wolverine, and I'm pretty sure Lorna secretly has me on suicide watch." He shook his head. "But I suppose all that is pretty lame in comparison to what you've been going through. I'm going to kill Toad, you know it? He thinks I'm kidding, but he's an idiot. I'm going to skin him alive." Jean-Paul glared moodily at the floor.

"Don't worry about Toad," John said, shaking his head. He really didn't want anyone - especially his friends - worrying about Toad, or getting caught up in his games. "He's badass in a way you can't compete with, JP. And I am not going to have anyone get hurt because of me, you got it? Tell me you'll leave it. I want it left alone."

Jean-Paul shook his head. "Can't promise you that, nope," he said. He sighed. "Although I'll have to beat Rogue and Mike to it, which may prove difficult. Anyway, fuck that noise... Uh. So." He blinked a few times. "I have NO idea what to talk to you about. I thought you were dead. Everybody did. Well. Except my sister... holy shit, I'm never gonna hear the end of THAT, let me tell you. We had a memorial for you, you asshole. You should have come."

"I still am dead. It's... complicated," John said, sighing and squeezing the bridge of his nose. He just wanted to ignore the Toad stuff, for now, but totally planned on stressing his point again later on. "The magic stuff - which, fuck, that's a whole lot of weird, you know? Anyway, it, um. Makes me not have a heartbeat, not even to machines, and no one can read my mind, and." John shrugged. "I can feel my own heartbeat, I mean. No one else can. And obviously my mind works fine. Technically? I'm dead. Only I'm not. It's fucking weird."

John frowned. "Doug told me about the memorial, but I didn't know until afterward. I had to stay away from you guys that whole time too. Ste too, but..." John almost can't bring it up, but he does. "He's dead now. For real dead. He died trying to help me. Jesus, how's Terry?"

Jean-Paul shrugged. "Grieving. But honestly? She's doing a LOT better than most of us. She's upset, but she's not drinking. She's running the Health Centre almost entirely on her own, and she still finds time to cheer other people up. She's an amazing woman." He chewed thoughtfully at one of his nails. "If we can, I'm not sure we should ever tell her he didn't die when we were led to believe he did. I don't want to screw up her healing process."

Jean-Paul sat still for a moment, thinking back. Really, not much time had passed since John had 'died', as hard as that was to believe. "Yeah," he said. "Terry's okay. Kara lost it, a bit, and Lorna, and... I dunno. Everyone's in bad shape, it seems like. But they'll all be okay." He perked up. "My sister got a job. Uh, because I sorta quit mine. Uh. Fuck, I don't know what else you've missed. Does it even matter?"

"I'm sure everyone will tell me, if they want me to know," John said, shrugging. It did matter to him, but he wasn't about to make JP tell him everything, catch him up on everyone. Especially since people like Kara and Lorna weren't even his friends and didn't give a shit whether or not... But he didn't bring that up, because he knew they were JP's close friends and he wasn't about to upset JP anymore that day.

"I can't promise not to tell Terry," he said, going back to JP's earlier comment. "Because I promised Ste that I'd... when he was... I have something to tell her," he said firmly, but he wasn't going to tell anyone else. It was up to Terry who she'd want to tell, and John knew he'd be talking to her, though he understood why JP was worried about that.

"And I heard that you quit that fucking job," he said, smirking, just trying to joke around with JP. "Why couldn't you have done it when I was there to celebrate with you, for fuck's sake? But, hey, cool for your sister."

Jean-Paul smiled. It was an odd expression, because it wasn't actually very happy - if anything, it was almost painfully mournful. "I promised Peter," he said, and had to look away. When he looked back he seemed under control, but John knew JP better than most and the fact that it was an act was therefore pretty obvious.

"Yeah. She went out and got herself hired all on her own. No favours from friends or anything. I'm really proud of her. And she's still with her boyfriend, and she's just... she's great. I don't know what I would do without her." He shook his head. "I told you she said you weren't dead, no? You ass." He looked John over carefully. "I don't think we can let you die again, you know."

John gave a small smile. JP sounded an awful lot like Doug at the moment. "Look, you can try and do what you want to do, but I'm not getting my fucking hopes up, okay? I've accepted this. It's happening. I'm dead, and I'm dying, and that's that. So have Mike go search other worlds and dimensions for what I need, or have Illyana do some magic voodoo shit, but I'm not going to think that anything is happening other then what is happening. And it'd be easier for everyone if everyone just accepted it too, okay?"

"And when have we ever done things the easy way, hmm? Besides." Jean-Paul shrugged. "It's a challenge. And... it's not easier for me to accept this. Everyone else can, that's fine, that's healthy, whatever... but I can't, John. You're here and if there's a chance I can keep it that way I'll take it." He sincerely hoped he could. Logically, he knew John was right, but he'd lost him once before and then he'd lost Peter and just rolling over and saying, 'okay, God, whatever you say' was just not an option for him at the moment.

"So. You go ahead and do your dying thing, and you let me live in denial, okay?"

"I knew you would be fucking difficult about this," John muttered. But then he looked JP straight in the eye. "I need you to do something for me, okay? And this fucking denial thing of yours is going to fuck it up, and it's important, got it? You listening to me?"

"Ouais, ouais. What?"

"You have to be there for Doug," John said, extremely seriously. "This isn't going to be easy on him, and maybe it won't be easy on you, after what happened to Peter. Actually, it's probably not fair that I ask this at all, but I don't give a shit." Yes, he cared about how JP felt about this whole thing, but right now, he was concerned about Doug, and how JP could help Doug. Because he honestly believed he could.

"I don't want him to be alone. He shouldn't have to watch me die alone. And, next to me, you're closest with him." John sighed. He felt so weary and tired, but he was going to get this across to JP, even if it was the last thing he did - which it very well could be. "We have a spare room here, and like, it's not like you have to move in or whatever-" The you could, though, temporarily was left unspoken. "-But if you could just hang around some? Make sure he's not alone? I sleep a lot." As if that explained everything. He didn't even know how to explain the 'attacks' he sometimes got. "And I get sick sometimes, and he just shouldn't have to deal with this alone. And, you know." The I want you around was also left unspoken. Almost. "We could hang out too. But, just be around for him, okay?"

Jean-Paul stared at John. John stared back. That went on for a while until finally Jean-Paul threw his hands up in the air. "I hate you, John Allerdyce," he said. "If you weren't dying I would kick your ass all over this hotel." He pushed his hair back from his face, revealing somber blue eyes. "You're dying," he said quietly. "I know. It just hurts really bad, John. I love you." This last statement was made matter-of-factly, as if JP were commenting on the weather. "But you're right. He shouldn't have to be alone." Jean-Paul stood. "I'm going back to my apartment. I am going to speak with my sister, and then I am going to pack a bag and bring it over here. I will divide my time between my home and this place, and I will be a fucking ROCK for Doug." He smiled. For real, this time. "I'm not asking, by the way. I'm telling you. So. Go back to bed, John."

John first reaction was to say Don't start acting like my mother, but JP was right. He was really tired, and he didn't exactly get a chance to have a good nap before. He nodded, and stood up too, went over to JP. "You guys will be okay," he said, quietly, and pulled JP into a hug. It was almost an involuntary action, because he didn't usually do that with anyone but Doug, but it felt right at the moment. "Thanks, man."

Except he quickly pulled away, and poked an accusing finger into Jean-Paul's chest. "One more thing, and this should probably go unsaid, but you have a big mouth." John cut JP off before he could protest. "Don't fucking tell anyone about this, okay? I mean, Jeanne-Marie, if you really have to when you go home, but make sure she doesn't tell anyone either. Make her, I don't know, Twin Pinky Swear Upon Each Others Lives, or something. Whatever it is you do." John was so serious about this. "I have to do it myself. I have to let my friends know what is going on, okay? Don't fucking ruin it for me."

But then, his stern tone was broken with a loud, interrupting yawn. "Okay, fuck. I'm going to go to sleep." He eyed up Jean-Paul. "You promise me that first, though, got it?"

"I'm telling my sister, John," Jean-Paul said evenly. "She won't tell anyone. She's very good at keeping secrets." He smirked. "But I promise not to tell another living soul. Now go to bed, asshole."

Jean-Paul watched as John nodded and shambled off to the bedroom, waving without turning around. It wasn't until his friend had left that JP's smirk faded. It was also at that point that Doug showed up again, trying to open the door while carrying a stack of burgers, fries, and soda cups from the nearest fast food place.

"Hey, Doug?" Jean-Paul said. "I'm gonna go get my stuff and then I'll be coming back. We should probably get me a room key or whatever." He paused, looking at his other friend curiously. "Okay?"

"Er, okay," Doug said. He had been hoping that Jean-Paul might take some of the burgers off his hands, since they were about to collapse all over the floor. "How's John? Everything okay? No one killed anyone else? Want a cheeseburger?"

Jean-Paul opened his mouth to say 'no', but his stomach disagreed and instead tricked his brain into nodding his head. He went over to Doug and helped him with the food, depositing it on the coffee table. He then sat down and helped himself to a cheeseburger. And fries. And coke.

"AFTER this I'm going to get my stuff," he amended, mouth full. "And John's fine. Well. Same as he was before, I mean. He went back to bed." He washed down his food with some pop and shook his head sadly. "He looks awful. I can't get over it." Jean-Paul regarded Doug seriously. "You don't exactly look great yourself, Ramsey."

Doug looked mildly affronted. "I'm a model. I always look good, even if it's heroin chic or whatever." He considered this, thinking of what he must look like. "Okay, so right now I'm modeling something closer to 'traveled around the world getting beat up in every possible location' chic, but still." He met JP's eyes. "It's okay. Now that we're back home I can look after myself. And John. Just don't make me look after you too, okay?"

Jean-Paul raised an eyebrow at Doug. "You don't have to look after me," he said quietly. "That's not how this works." He helped himself to more food, chewing thoughtfully. "No," he said after a moment. "I'll be fine."

He didn't say anything else for a bit, just ate, and when he was done Jean-Paul stood. "Okay. You want anything special while I'm out? Anything else I should know?"

"I think we're good," Doug said. "Thanks for coming, JP, and for, you know, not beating me to a pulp. I always appreciate that."

Jean-Paul smiled briefly. "Yeah, I know. Whatever, Doug, you should know by now I've got your back." He leaned down and kissed Doug quickly on the cheek. "I'll be back before you know I'm gone. And we'll all deal with this, okay? Together. Like really fucked up Musketeers."

"All for one," Doug grinned. "One for all."