X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ State of Mind ❯ Half Moon ( Chapter 3 )

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

 

It was still dark.

Jean-Paul sat up, and looked around for what woke him. It was Northstar. Northstar was crouched in a corner. His index finger held up and lit. He stared at his finger, before his cold blue eyes flickered up. Jean-Paul never realised how sharp his features were, how icy his eyes could be.

“Why are you here?”

Blood - not his blood - dripped down from Northstar's shiny black hair and landed soundlessly in the pool that was gathering beneath him. Jean-Paul stared at the pool with a roiling sick feeling in his stomach. He drew his knees up, and scrambled backward as the pool began to spread. He didn't want the blood to touch him, because he knew it would still be warm. Northstar smiled but his eyes were filled with cold fury.

“Because you won't let me out, you dumb fuck.”

Jean-Paul blinked and found himself crouching, staring at his lit index finger.

 

Chapter Three: Half Moon

 

The containment bay's lights flicked on.

It was day.

“Note to file: Subject still converses with himself.”

Jean-Paul scrambled to the side to see through the tiny air holes. The bright light was so harsh; Hank McCoy was nothing but a big blue lump in scrubs. He was consulting a clip board. Behind him, Bobby stood staring directly at the cage. He had pushed the heavy duty goggles up onto his head, throwing his floppy hair into all kinds of silly spikes. Bobby couldn't see him, and yet a warm smile flitted over his handsome face.

“But you'll get better, and then I'll take you somewhere nice.” Bobby walked closer to the cage, “You'll love it, we'll go together.”

Jean-Paul wasn't aware he'd pushed his fingers through the air holes, until Bobby had curled his gloved hand around the digits. Hank moved away, muttering to himself. “Neural-wipe on; simulation commences in T-5 pico-seconds…”

“Bobby?” Jean-Paul asked, nervous upon hearing the strange words. The voice was distorted in the massive room.

“Shh, don't worry about it.” Bobby leant against the cage, and stroked his smooth, gloved fingers over Jean-Paul's fingers. “Talk to me about something.”

“But what was he saying…?”

“I said, don't worry about it.” Jean-Paul imagined Bobby had a warm smile on his face. “Talk to me about something.”

“I … okay. What…” Jean-Paul licked dry lips, “What shall I talk about? Can't you start? Please, tell me something about the outside?”

“They always worry about things they don't understand.” Bobby began, and Jean-Paul blinked as he smelt coffee. Bobby paused to sip. “The same old thing, they think I'm spending too much time with you. Emma called me in yesterday, she says it's unhealthy. It's unrealistic for a man like me to be spending so much time with you.”

Jean-Paul sniffed dully, “Because I'm crazy.”

“Because you're gay and I come from a homophobic family.” Bobby chuckled low, “But they are too afraid to visit you. I'm not.”

“Because you've got a stubborn streak, you foolish little American.” Jean-Paul removed his fingers from the holes and turned to rest his back against the cage's wall. He smiled into the darkness, avoiding thinking about the opposite corner, where the light seemed to fade away. He knew what lurked in that corner, and if he didn't acknowledge it, nothing bad would happen. He wished he could talk to Bobby about the corner, but he knew that Bobby might go away.

He wished that Bobby could stay with him. Just so he wouldn't be left alone with—Bobby's voice startled him out of his thoughts.

“Exactly.” Bobby continued, “I need to do this Jean-Paul, not only for you… but for me too. It's not like I have anything else to do. Did I tell you? Scott removed me from active duty.”

“But why? If your powers are correctly applied, you easily could become a one-man team.” Jean-Paul protested hotly, “With the correct training, you are so magnificent!”

There was some silence, and Jean-Paul feared for a moment that Bobby had left. Feared that he had revealed too much of his deeply held love of the man. Jean-Paul chewed at his bottom lip before venturing nervously. “Bobby?”

“That's so kind of you… why didn't I hear you like this before you were killed?”

Jean-Paul continued to chew on a lip, “I would… I would have been happy to speak to you, but you always made it so hard.”

“I realise that now. I'm so sorry.” There was a scuffling noise as Bobby shifted. The sharp tangy smell of orange hit Jean-Paul's nose. “I brought you an orange,” Bobby explained distractedly, “Do you want to share?”

“No.” Jean-Paul murmured, “I'm not really hungry.”

“Okay, but I'll eat it slowly, in case you change your mind.” Bobby chewed on a segment, before speaking again, “I was in the library, trying to chose a book to read to you… there's little point in me reading your own autobiography at you, eh?”

Jean-Paul turned to lie on his back, and turned his head to stare at the void in the light, where Bobby was lying against the air holes.

“I'm enjoying it. I mean I'm engrossed in it, I never realised how deep your life was… uh, is.”

“Silly Bobby.” Jean-Paul whispered, his eyelids feeling heavy, “My wonderfully silly Bobby.”

The scuffling noises sounded again, and Bobby shifted to look in. His warm hazel eyes were still unprotected, “Go to sleep now, Jean-Paul.”

As Jean-Paul let consciousness slip away from him, Bobby began to hum or perhaps the containment bay filled with the soft little tones of his favourite music.

“Sleep now. Don't fight the anaesthetic.”

The containment bay's lights clicked off.

 

 

 

“It's spring time, asshole.”

The containment bay's lights were already on.

Jean-Paul was startled as he woke up. He looked around the cage, his eyes adjusting for the darkness and the meagre light provided by the air holes. “What?”

“I said, it's spring time, you dumb fuck.” Bobby's voice was wearily irked. Jean-Paul - despite the safety of the cage - crawled backward.

“Why are you angry at me?”

“Northstar?” Bobby's voice came closer, “Or Jean-Paul?”

“Jean-Paul, it's me. Bobby, why are you angry at me? Please don't be angry at me, I didn't mean to do it. I didn't mean to kill anyone - but Hydra! Hydra filled my head, they made me so angry. I didn't want to die!”

“Shh, shh… dear Jean-Paul, calm down.” Bobby's voice instantly drained of all anger. “I believe you. I wasn't angry, that's… that's just how we talk, Northstar and I, that's just as we talk to each other. I'm not really angry, he just…”

“He's so angry at everything, he blames me…” Jean-Paul felt a fat tear roll down his face, followed by many others, “He blames me for trapping him in here. I told him, this is where we're safe! This is where we don't hurt people, but he doesn't believe me! He's just so angry!”

“I noticed.” Bobby said, “I've spoken to him so I know. I know that you're struggling with this, but you're right. You can't leave yet, he's still so dangerous. He'll kill people because that's what Hydra have put in his head.” Bobby paused for a moment, “Did you really have to take something to help you sleep at night?”

Jean-Paul tried to get his tears under control and he was winning until that soft question, “Oh Bobby, I was so lonely! I couldn't stand it, everyone was so cruel… The pills—The pills were only supposed to be a stop-gap—I mean, B-bobby, it was only meant… what would you have done, in my place?! Bobby, please don't be angry, please don't leave!”

“I dunno. Say a prayer, I guess. I just feel a little hypocritical.” Bobby must have shifted, his voice momentarily dropping into an inaudible whisper. All Jean-Paul caught was the tale end, “… weren't exactly the best of friends.”

Jean-Paul started, and scrambled toward the air holes to thrust his fingers out, “No! Bobby, no! You are so worried about your ice, and I… I knew that we couldn't be… I saw you with that woman, you—”

“Shh, don't worry about it anymore. Talk to me about something.”

Jean-Paul blinked, and the music started again.

“What…?”

“I asked Hank to pipe some music through, is classical okay?” Bobby chuckled low, “I suppose he only just figure out how to do it.”

“Yes, yes I suppose. Bobby, thank you.”

“For what? I just want you to be comfortable; you'll never get better if you keep fighting the treatment.”

“Do you mean me?” Jean-Paul wondered, trying to meet Bobby's eyes through the air holes. “Or are you speaking about Northstar?”

“That's enough for today, we'll continue tomorrow.”

Bobby looked up as the voice softly echoed through the containment bay. Hank's voice sounded so strange on the P.A. system. He smiled sadly at Jean-Paul. “Talk to me about the Dawn.”

Bobby iced up completely as the containment bay's lights clicked off.

He didn't need eyes to see.

Jean-Paul lifted his index finger…

And Northstar concentrated on lighting it.

The cage filled with light while the containment bay was plunged into the false night.

“You told me death was just a state of mind.” Robert continued, unconcerned by the darkness. “Tell me more.”

Northstar grinned wickedly, allowing the light in his body to spill forth. He stared through the air holes, and met Robert's beautiful icy eyes. The light reflected through out him, a living prism.

“Promise me… you'll let me out.”

Robert's icy features fluidly moved into a mirroring wicked smile.

“You'll love it, we'll go together.”

 

The containment bay lights flicked on.

“Good morning?”

Jean-Paul groaned, his eyes felt sore and crusted. He pressed his warm forehead against the cold metal.

“Hello?” Bobby spoke again, “Are you awake yet?”

Jean-Paul chuckled mirthlessly, “I'm not sure I want to be.” He knew that Northstar had kept them awake for longer than the night-day lights permitted. He was rebelling against the strict controllers of the containment bay. Jean-Paul whimpered, and felt fresh tears spring up in his eyes, Northstar was so cruel. Why couldn't he understand that they needed to be here, to protect them.

“Jean-Paul? Northstar?”

“I'm not sure I want to be, Bobby.” Jean-Paul groaned again. There were quiet scraps against the metal as the man in the cage crawled toward the air holes to poke his fingers through. “Good morning, dear, dear Bobby.”

“Good morning, Jean-Paul. Did you sleep well?”

“Non.” Jean-Paul sniffed mournfully, “I want a bed.”

“When you're better,” Bobby answered automatically. Jean-Paul imagined he was smiling hopelessly. Every morning would start like this. He'd touch Jean-Paul's fingers, hooking his little finger around Jean-Paul's middle finger, and curling his hand so he could rub his thumb over the curled knuckles of the French Canadian.

“When I'm better,” Jean-Paul echoed distractedly.

Bobby stroked Jean-Paul's fingers. Their world seemed to shrink into this simple contact. This is what Bobby spent a lot of his time doing every day. Everyday, just assuring Jean-Paul-and-Northstar that they hadn't been forgotten. That there was still one X-Man that remembered his obligations to them.

The quiet sound of music surprised them both as it filtered into the compartment.

Jean-Paul felt Bobby's fingers tighten automatically as he jerked in surprise.

“Hank must be having trouble using the controls.” Bobby muttered as if to explain the random occurrence of the classical music. It came at odd intervals, sometimes playing for hours, sometimes for mere moments. Jean-Paul wondered if Hank's hands had really become that clumsy.

“He told me he was having trouble because his hands aren't really up to such fine movements.”

Bobby's voice was matter-of-fact, and Jean-Paul nodded despite himself.

“Yes,” he replied distractedly. “Yes, that must be it.”

Bobby's shadow shifted as he moved away and then closer again.

The smell of coffee hit Jean-Paul's nose. “I miss drinking coffee.”

Bobby's laugh was sudden. “But your body always reacted badly to the caffeine! You swore you'd never drink coffee again, after that encounter with that hairy bloke. Heather made you promise you'd never drink coffee again!”

Jean-Paul blinked and laughed, remembering the incident. “Yes, yes! That's true!” He chuckled, feeling warm that Bobby laughed along side him. He laughed, until tears began to stream down his face. It wasn't all that funny, but it felt so good to laugh with Bobby. He'd only ever heard Bobby laugh freely like this once. It had been late, and Bobby was watching TV. For once it had been an honest laugh, a free laugh, free from malice and the underlying anger that Bobby was constantly battling with.

Out of the shadows of the cage, Northstar stepped.

“You dumb fuck.” Northstar accused him, “Do you think this is really funny?”

Jean-Paul met his eye, and the shadows swallowed him.

Robert's voice was concerned, “Northstar. Leave him alone.”

“Why should I, Rober'? He's mad.” Northstar hissed angrily. He pressed his back against the cold metal wall, and glared into the darkness where Jean-Paul had disappeared into. Looking down to his left, he could see the void where Robert's body blocked the light from entering the cage. “He was laughing so much; I thought perhaps he was broken.” He narrowed his eyes at the air holes, “How did you know about the coffee?”

“I've been reading your autobiography.” Robert answered quite promptly and, as if to back this up, there was the turn of a page. “I read it there. How else would I know about it?”

Northstar closed his eyes and pulled his legs in to sit cross-legged. “When are you going to let me out?”

“When you are better.”

“What if I never get better?”

“You will.” Robert answered and then sneered, “Unless of course you really are B-List. Wolverine told me all about it.”

“All about what?” Northstar's eyes snapped open, “What did that bastard tell you?”

“How he beat your ass, fucker.” Robert sniggered, “How did it feel? Getting your ass handed to you by Wolverine, not once… but twice!”

“You fucking bastard!” Northstar rose up from the floor, and jumped into the air. There wasn't much room to float in, but it was enough that he could get a foot off the ground. He looked at the upper row of air holes and saw as Robert's shadow caused a void. There was a musical noise, a quiet `shush' as Robert froze the water in the air. Robert leant toward the holes, and peered through. His hazel eyes glinted darkly.

“Leave Jean-Paul alone, Northstar,” Robert warned dangerously, “Or I'll fucking kill you.”

“Jean-Paul got us killed. I don't intend to give him a second chance.” Northstar raised his hands and sneered unpleasantly. A nano-second later the box filled with light.

Robert cried out in pain as the bright light burnt his eyes.

“Fooled you twice, motherfucker.” Northstar grinned coldly.

“That's enough for today.”

Northstar moved closer to the upper row of air holes to see the Beast in scrubs walk down the gangway, his eyes protected by heavy duty goggles. “We'll continue tomorrow.”

He leant over to help Robert to his feet, and the Iceman staggered away. When they got half way to the door, Robert was able to walk by himself. As the Beast continued out, Robert turned to face the cage. The upper half of his face was iced up, but the ice was quickly receding.

Robert smiled as his hazel eyes reappeared from under the ice. He raised a hand to his lips and kissed his fingers. Robert blew him a kiss and winked. Northstar snarled unpleasantly as the Iceman gave him the middle finger, “See you later, you dumb fuck.”

Northstar's eyes flickered upward, as the containment bay's lights flicked out.

Night was here.

 

+ Half Moon +