X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ State of Mind ❯ Crescent ( Chapter 2 )

Notes: An exercise in a little surrealism. I like writing for crazy people. It's lots of fun to work with. I'm taking a little from cannon and a little from a slightly different track. All I can ask of you is please, please stick with it. I'm experimenting a little.

 

Synopsis: Jean-Paul Beaubier was killed and resurrected by the HAND and Hydra. He was brainwashed. His mind is in pieces. Someone must be able to put him back together.

 

Warnings: Mental Issues, AU-ish Cannon hybrid. Foul language. Mental/Physical Torture.

 

Category: Slash overtones (obviously - Northstar's gay!), Mental problems, surrealism, romance/obsession. Hurt/Comfort.

 

Disclaimer: I won't insult your intelligence, you know the score.

 

State of Mind

By Doctor Megalomania

 

Chapter Two: Crescent

 

The containment bay's lights flicked on.

“The light makes everything feel so… unreal.”

Bobby stuck his hands into his pockets and slouched. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. It was eight o'clock in the morning. He slid a gloved hand under his sunglasses and rubbed at his eyes. He was tired. He'd just come from a training session. Scott was testing him.

He sighed, cold air curling in beautiful swirls.

Jean-Paul - in all the five weeks of being contained - had shown no improvement. In fact, he was worse. His personality was splitting. There was a sobbing wreck of a man, broken and afraid. This was Jean-Paul. He constantly needed reassurances that he wasn't alone. Bobby felt for him. Bobby spent most of his nights feeling like that.

Then there was Northstar.

Oh, god.

Then there was Northstar.

He was hostile, murderous. Triumphant and proud. Fiery rage, icy distain. The extremes of the volatile emotions, every violent thought, and the basest of human desire all seemed to accumulate into this one personality. All he desired though was to leave the containment. He refused to call Bobby anything but Robert. Robert couldn't help it, but he felt for Northstar as well. With his secondary mutation still chewing away at his body, Northstar's freedom, his rage and his fury was so matching.

Last week, Northstar triumphantly declared Jean-Paul to be dead.

Yesterday, Jean-Paul was almost elated to discover Northstar was dead.

Neither had any recognition of the other anymore.

Bobby didn't have the heart to tell them, he knew they were both still there.

The only thing they seem to have in common had been that both swore blind that the other was dead.

Bloodied fingers poked desperately through the bottom set of air holes as Bobby caught himself humming again.

“Bobby?”

“I'm sorry, it's me again.” He tried to smile, even though he knew Jean-Paul couldn't see him. From within, he heard Jean-Paul drag his sleeve over his nose with a loud sniff. It sounded as if the speedster had been crying since he left last night.

Bobby felt his heart do a funny little skip over that knowledge. He hated that Jean-Paul had been reduced into this. Jean-Paul had been a proud man and deservedly so. He'd been a great businessman, a good teacher and he could have been a good friend to Bobby if only Bobby had given him the chance. Bobby crouched down and chewed on his bottom lip, trying to decide. He flicked a look over his shoulder, looking toward the one-way mirror that denoted the containment bay's monitor room. Hank was probably watching.

He made up his mind and reached out across the gap between the gang way and the cage.

His fingers barely brushed against Jean-Paul's.

The speedster gasped, his fingers stilling for a long moment.

“Buh... B-bobby…” Jean-Paul's voice was filled with awe, “I… Bobby, are you really there?”

Bobby didn't answer; he just reached closer to hook his little finger around Jean-Paul's and tugged slightly. “When you're better…” Bobby promised, “You'll be able to leave. You won't be alone anymore.”

“And then you'll take me somewhere nice?” Jean-Paul sounded more fragile in the moment than ever before, “When I'm better?”

Bobby blinked dazedly. He couldn't understand the rush of feelings, he felt scared and protective, horrified and guilty, torn and desperate. He couldn't believe it when he heard himself respond in a warm tone.

“You'll love it, we'll go together.”

He stayed there, gloved little finger curled around Jean-Paul's bloody, pale finger.

The containment bay's lights flicked off.

 

Three weeks later …

 

“Tell me about Joanne.”

“Read my book, you illiterate asshole.”

Robert rolled his eyes, “Go away Northstar, I was talking to Jean-Paul.”

“Fuck you, I'm bored and he's boring me.” There was a pause. “How can you stand talking to him? He's so… so like Jeanne-Marie… stuck-up bitch, fuck her! I'm sick of her shit!”

Robert tilted his head and moved a little closer. He created a little ice extension so he could be closer to the cage. Folding his legs underneath himself, Robert reached out to touch the cage. “Tell me about Jeanne-Marie.”

“What the fuck? What the hell would you want to know anything about my life? I told you to read my goddamn book, Rober', or will the words be too fucking long for you?”

“Northstar.” A warning.

“Fuck you. I'm sick of this. If you aren't going to kill me--”

“We're not going to kill you, asshole.” Robert punched the side of the cage, “We're trying to fucking help you, okay?! I just want to help you! You dumb fuck!”

“Why? What the fuck are you going to get out of helping me?! Huh?” Northstar thumped the cage's wall back, “You are always a bastard to me, even when I'm trying to do my job and it has fuck all to do with you. `I'm going to kill you.'” Northstar taunted in a false American accent, “Remember that? I was helping Wolverine, trying to get help together for Angel and what do you tell me?! Fuck you, Rober', fuck you!”

A rapid series of bangs against the wall told Robert that Northstar was kicking the walls. The cage rocked in its suspension. Robert let it for several minutes until the cage began to still again, and Northstar was panting heavily.

“Are you done?” He tilted his head curiously.

Breathlessly, Northstar stuck his middle finger out the air vents and muttered, “Fuck you, Rober'.”

Robert couldn't help it, he snickered. Sobering, he reached out and touched the finger. “Tell me about Jeanne-Marie, asshat.”

“Why should I, fucker?”

“I could talk about Scott's sock collection, cocksucker.”

“I'll blind you, son of a bitch.”

“And I'm still wearing protective eyewear for that.” Robert tapped the heavy duty goggles, “Fool me once, bastard.”

“Fuck off.”

“Fine!” Robert stood and purposely began striding away. He knew it would only be a moment before Jean-Paul would take over and—

“Rober' don't, please…”

Robert blinked and paused, “Northstar?”

“Oui.” Northstar's fingers had retracted and from the scuffling noises, Robert imagined the man inside the box was floating. Probably trying to peer through the top air holes. Robert stepped back toward the cage, confused. “Northstar…”

“Yes. I'm still here.” Northstar spat, there was a pause before he spoke again. “I… I'm sorry. My temper, I know I should control it but …” Northstar sounded disgusted with himself, “For fuck's sake, Rober', let me out…”

Robert stood closer to the cage, crouching down when the scuffling noises were heard again and fingers reappeared through the air vents. Robert touched them, “You'll get better.”

“I won't.” Northstar sounded oddly calm, introvert, “I'm going mad, Rober' …” his voice dropped to a whisper, “Rober' … God's sake, let me out… I don't want to be here …”

Robert stared at Northstar's fingers, and found himself curling his own around them. Northstar choked back a sob uselessly before breaking down. “Rob-bbeerr'… oh god, please… Ro-oh-oh-bert. Oh god, oh god… oh my god…”

Robert Drake never hated the cage's wall as much as he did that moment.

When Northstar finally stopped crying and his fingers were lax, Robert began to speak softly. “I'll take you somewhere nice. I promise… you'll love it.”

One hand remained curled loosely around Northstar's fingers, his other hand trailed up to his chest and pressed against the ice. Robert let his eyes slid shut.

“We'll go together.”

 

Early…

 

“He's still alive, isn't he?”

Bobby was silent for a moment, before Jean-Paul continued sourly. “It's ok, I suspected as much.” He sighed, staring blankly into the darkness that filled the cage. “I'd just hoped that I was getting better. Not worse.”

He turned to lie down, and stared through the air holes along the bottom. Bobby was sitting on one of his little ice shelves. Well, actually he was slouched. Leaning over to one side, in a way that made Jean-Paul want to snap at him. A book was open in front of him, and Jean-Paul was surprised to see it was HIS book.

Beautiful hazel eyes were hidden behind midnight blue goggles, his uniform was still that awkward mix between cool and wannabe. Bobby stubbornly continued to wear the gloves, which made Jean-Paul think that perhaps the ice had spread into his hands. Now that he was looking at Bobby so closely, he could see spikes of the dark ice just above Bobby's collar. It was immediately devastating and beautiful at the same time.

It made Jean-Paul more afraid.

If Bobby disappeared, then he would be alone.

The Iceman began to hum again, eyes flicking down to continue reading.

A page turned.

Jean-Paul pressed his face against the cold metal floor of the cage, and began to sob again.

“When you're better, you'll be able to leave.” Bobby's voice was oddly soothing, mildly distracted. “When you can leave, we'll go somewhere nice.”

“Don't leave me alone.” Jean-Paul moved to push his fingers through the holes and wiggled them desperately, hoping Bobby would touch him.

“I won't.” Despite the gloves, Bobby's fingers were warm as they wrapped around his fingers. “You'll love it, we'll go together.”

Jean-Paul sniffled; bring his other hand to wipe at his face. He gasped as the light from the air holes glinted off Northstar's boots. Looking up, the other speedster stared down at him with distain. “You dumb fuck,” he hissed before stepping back into the darkness. The shadows of the cage swallowed the other whole.

“That's enough for today… We can continue tomorrow.”

Jean-Paul whimpered at the new voice and turned his head to look out the air holes. He watched as Hank guided Bobby away from cage. Bobby paused briefly to look back, Jean-Paul's autobiography clutched to his chest as if it were a precious thing. He smiled gently, pulling the goggles away from his face and giving Jean-Paul a flash of the hazel eyes he'd loved so much from before.

Bobby's smile was so warm, so wonderful.

The containment bay's lights flicked off.

And Jean-Paul whimpered in the darkness of the new night.

 

+ Crescent +