X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ State of Mind ❯ Full Moon ( Chapter 4 )

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 Four: Full Moon

 

The containment bay's lights switched on.

Jean-Paul had been awake for an hour, and silently tears tracked down his face. He stared blankly at the lower air holes as a shadow approached. It moved around, and he followed its movements with his eyes until it moved out of his line of sight. He raised a hand to wipe at his face, and swallowed fearfully as the shadow moved back. It stood directly in front of him and darkened dramatically as the person leant forward.

“Are you awake?”

Jean-Paul closed his eyes and swallowed, speaking in a very small voice, “Yes.”

He could hear the smile in Bobby's voice. “I'm glad.” There was a musical sound, the sound of ice forming as Bobby made the little shelf he sat on. Jean-Paul gathered himself up and moved closer. “Good morning,” he said humbly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Not really.” Bobby chuckled outside; there was the smell of coffee again. “I spent last night in the library; I was looking for a decent book to read you and got caught up in a few titles.”

“I love doing that.” Jean-Paul smiled slightly, he moved so he could sit with his back against the cool metal walls. He tilted his head back and concentrated on Bobby. He was probably sitting in a similar position. One hand wrapped around a cup of coffee and …

He heard a page turn.

… and a book in the other hand. He loved getting lost in libraries.

“We should do that. When you get better, we'll go somewhere nice.”

Jean-Paul blinked, unaware that he'd spoken. He smiled warmly, even though Bobby couldn't see him. “I'll look forward to it.”

There was a shifting sound as Bobby moved closer, Jean-Paul turned, lying down so he could look out the air holes. Bobby's wonderful hazel eyes sparkled as he promised quietly, “You'll love it, we'll go together.”

Keeping eye contact, Jean-Paul shifted to poke his fingers through the air holes. Bobby blinked and moved his hands to curl his gloved fingers around Jean-Paul's digits.

When their eyes met again, Bobby gave Jean-Paul a brilliant, beautiful smile. “I can hardly wait. Show me everything.”

“What do you mean?” Jean-Paul asked quietly, but Bobby didn't reply immediately.

“I brought you an orange, would you like to share?”

Jean-Paul felt cold suddenly. “No. I'm not hungry.”

“Okay, but I'll eat it slowly, in case you change your mind.”

Bobby stroked his fingers once, before letting go so he could start peeling the orange. He sat back, so that Jean-Paul could see his hands. The orange was large, very juicy looking. Jean-Paul blinked and looked up. Bobby was humming again.

“Did you really bring me an orange?”

Bobby stopped humming. “Of course, why would I lie to you?”

“No. You wouldn't, would you?” Jean-Paul giggled helplessly. Silence descended for a long moment, broken only by Bobby humming again, and the sound of his peeling the orange. Jean-Paul watched him through the air holes, before he began to speak in a rush, “Bobby! Bobby?”

Bobby's gloved hands stilled. “Yes?”

“Wh-when I get better, will you be there?”

“Yes.” Bobby curled over so he could look through the air holes. His floppy golden-brown hair needed a cut, it brushed against his knees as he bent.

“Really?” Jean-Paul pressed, “Will you really be there?”

Bobby didn't reply and he looked confused. Jean-Paul felt the sting of tears again, and his lower lip trembled as he let out a quiet sob. “Oh god. Bobby.” Bobby and the air holes blurred as tears welled up in Jean-Paul's eyes.

There was another silence before Jean-Paul spoke again.

“Northstar said… he doesn't think you're really here. I told him he was wrong!” Jean-Paul's voice cracked as he cried out suddenly, “I told him you were here, but he doesn't think you really are! He says we're mad! He says you hate us! You don't hate us, Bobby! You don't, do you?”

“No.” Bobby put the orange down and approached the cage again. “No, I don't hate you; I was just… angry before, I was angry at myself and just took it out on you.”

There was a very long silence, so long that Bobby swallowed and spoke again.

“I don't hate you, Jean-Paul. I… I think I love you.”

Jean-Paul's voice shook terribly. “Oh god,” he moaned brokenly. “He said you'd say exactly that! Oh god, you're not real! You're not real! I'm mad! I'm alone and I'm mad! Oh god! OH GOD! I WISH I WAS DEAD! I'M DEAD! THEY NEVER WOKE ME UP!”

Bobby stepped closer to the cage and pressed his hands against the box. “Jean-Paul?” He called out, trying to get above the trapped man's wails, “CODE FOUR!” He looked over his shoulder to the nearest camera, “CODE FOUR!! GET SOME HELP! CODE FOUR! HE'S BREAKING DOWN HERE!”

Bobby turned his attention back on the cage as Jean-Paul's wails took a disturbingly pained tone to it. As the wails continued, Bobby grew concerned as with every breath that the other man took, he sounded as if he were grunting with some sort of effort. A sickened feeling passed over Bobby, and the water in the air took on a metallic tang. Horrified, Bobby began to call out for help again. He had just started banging on the walls when the containment bay's emergency lights turned on.

Everything was flushed red as a multitude of voices entered the bay.

Inside the cage, Jean-Paul fell to his knees and clutched his head. Something had overtaken his wailing, he could hear something - no, someone else wailing.

Light breached the cage, and he felt strong arms grasp him. He struggled briefly as someone grabbed his arm and plunged a sharp needle into the vein. His awareness faded and he became detached from his body. He felt the blood trickling from his scalp, and looked around at the people manhandling him out of the cage.

A lot of them were in scrubs, and he was hard press to recognise any of them. Only Bobby stood out, kneeling on the floor, looking horrified. His mouth was open and his eyes were wide and fearful.

Wailing continued to fill the room.

Jean-Paul raised a hand, and held it out toward Bobby. The Iceman's beautiful hazel eyes widened in horror as they fixed on the offered hand. Jean-Paul noted with some very distant terror that he was staring at the blood and the clumps of skin and hair that clung to the nails.

The containment bay's lights flickered going from red to white.

Jean-Paul looked up; his eyes were being blinded by the bright strip light above him.

He also thought the high, constant wail was Bobby.

Jean-Paul's world tilted.

 

 

The warmth on his face was so beautiful that he woke up crying.

As he moved closer to the surface of wakefulness, Northstar turned his head into the warmth and realised it was light. It was real light. He opened his eyes with a shock, and gasped, “FUCK!”

Northstar shut his eyes tightly, and strained his head away from the light. Someone beside him cursed, moving from one side of him swiftly and then the warm light was gone.

“Sorry,” Robert whispered, “I'm sorry. I forgot.”

Northstar blinked sluggishly, rolling his eyes toward the source of the high, constant beep. “That's it.” He murmured, staring at the bright green display of the heart monitor. He looked at Robert, “What are you doing here? Where am I?”

Robert opened his mouth to reply, but stopped as the door opposite opened. Northstar moved his head slowly, but even this movement proved to be too much.

Northstar's world tilted and faded to black.

 

 

“He needs to rest;” This voice sounded somewhat like the Beast, “We can't continue the treatment with him like this.”

“It's not that simple, he's still dangerous. He was showing vast improvements with the scenarios but that doesn't mean…” That voice sounded like Cyclops. “Wait, is he conscious? Can he hear us?”

“Can you hear us, Jean-Paul?” That was Robert. “You've been under for about a week now.”

Northstar tentatively opened his eyes wearily. Everything was blurry, even Robert. Blinking once seemed to help so he did it again, until everything was relatively clear. His head felt tight and heavy at the same time. He tried to raise a hand but found he could move nothing from his neck downward. “Fuck.” He swore again, weakly struggling.

“He's still relatively under, he's not going anywhere on this combination.” The Beast said, moving away from him. “He might be conscious but damned if he can do anything about it.”

“I see.” Cyclops was following him, “When do you think we can start again…?”

Both voices trailed off and the door closed firmly. Northstar struggled against his body, but soon had to give up.

Beside him, Robert sighed. “It's for your own good.” He paused, “Northstar or Jean-Paul?”

“Fuck you.” Northstar spat, brow furrowing as he tried to get free. Nothing budged. He could feel the heat of his own arms wrapped around his middle and surmised that they'd put him in a strait jacket. He flicked his eyes to Robert as the man scratched at his chin with a half amused look in his tired eyes.

“Good morning Northstar,” Robert began coolly. “My, aren't we the little trouble maker?”

There was an angry undertone in his tired voice, and Northstar couldn't help himself as he rolled his eyes and looked away from Robert. “It's not my fucking fault that he can't take a little ribbing.”

“You persuaded him I wasn't real. You persuaded him that he was actually dead and that this was hell.”

“How do we know you're real? How do we know that we are awake?”

Robert sank down onto the bed. His weight shifted the springs, and Northstar found it hard to deny the touch of Robert's gloved fingers on his brow.

“I don't think you're real. You can't fool me.” Northstar growled, trying to gather enough strength to twist his head away from Robert's fingers. “None of this is real!”

“How can you say that?” Robert took his fingers away and stared at Northstar sadly, “You were making progress. Didn't you hear them?”

Northstar licked his lips and glared at Robert, “I…”

Robert was sitting with the window behind him; the yellow blinds gave the light a warm tint. It reflected dully off his golden-brown hair's shiny highlights, and his hazel brown eyes were so warm. Robert had left the sunglasses at home, and the hours he'd been sitting by Northstar's side were expressed in the dark circles and the red rims of his eyes.

Northstar couldn't bear it.

“Why are you wearing gloves indoors?” Northstar snapped irritably, “You fucking idiot, do you honestly think it makes you look cool?”

“I'm wearing them because my secondary mutation is spreading faster.” Robert seemed subdued, refusing to rise to Northstar's insults. “My hands are mostly frozen now.” He raised his left hand. It was stuck in a half fist, the fingers curled as if they were talons. Robert smiled ruefully, “I'm turning to ice now. It doesn't appear to be slowing down. I might be dying.”

“You fucker.” Northstar stared at the hand, “You fucker! You FUCKER! YOU FUCKER!”

Robert blinked, jerking back from the vehemence in his voice. “Northstar…”

“I'm not better yet!” Northstar continued to stare at the hand as if it could speak for itself, “I'm not better yet! I'm not better yet! How can we go somewhere nice if you turn to ice?!” Northstar's jaw snapped shut with a click and the man ground his teeth together as he closed his eyes tightly and pressed his head back as far as it would go into the pillow. “You said we'd go somewhere nice! You said!”

“I'm sorry.” Robert spoke quietly. “I've been trying to figure out how to tell you. They've been keeping you under for so long, I just… I thought just coming out with it would be the best way.”

“Why?” Northstar sniffed, panting slightly as he tried to keep his emotions under control. He opened his eyes to glare at Robert hotly as he demanded, “WHY?!”

“They don't know.” Robert smiled sadly, reaching for Northstar's brow again with the hand that worked. “In the past week, since you messed with Jean-Paul; it's just gotten worse.”

“It's not fair…” Northstar closed his eyes, “It's not fair, Rober', I'm not better yet…”

Robert's hand was cold, even with the glove, as he ran his fingers over Northstar's brow. Yet, Northstar said nothing more. All the speedster could think about was how it wasn't fair of Robert to do this to him when he wasn't better yet.

“Trust in me, Northstar. Jean-Paul. Both of you have got to trust in me, I'll get you through this.” Robert gathered the broken man up into his arms, and leant over to press his face against Northstar's chest. “I love you, both of you, and I'll get you through this. You've just got to trust in me. If you can't trust anything else, trust in me.”

“But none of this is real…” Northstar hissed angrily, staring at the ceiling, hating the tears that rolled down his face and into his ears. Robert shifted and moved so that he straddled Northstar's prone body. He leant over until he could stare Northstar evenly in the eyes.

His hazel eyes were determined. “I'm real enough right now. Trust in me.”

“But… none of this is…” Northstar closed his eyes and swallowed. Robert moved forward and pressed surprisingly warm lips against his dry ones.

“I know…” Robert whispered distractedly, “I know, love, but when you're better, I promise, we'll go somewhere nice.”

Northstar choked on a sob. Robert's lips were so warm. His body was warm too. It was like Northstar was lying in the beautiful sunlight. He'd missed that feeling.

“You'll love it…” whispered Robert, the tip of his cool tongue slipping out to brush lightly against Northstar's tightly pressed lips. “We'll go together.”

A sigh escaped Northstar, and he shuddered.

“You dumb fuck…” Robert murmured fondly, “It's a test of your will.”

Northstar surrendered into the kiss, and absently, he noticed the heart monitor's beep was high and constant. Warmth flushed through his body and his eyelids fluttered.

“I give up.” Northstar whispered shakily, “Please, don't let me go, Bobby.”

He was still alive.

 

+ Full Moon +