X-Men Fan Fiction ❯ State of Mind ❯ Last Quarter ( Chapter 6 )

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. SPOILERS.

 

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 Six: Last Quarter

 

The bright lights faded away and Jean-Paul Beaubier tried to breathe.

Something was covering his face, forcing air at him. He blinked wearily, his body heavy and stretched. His vision was blurred at first, but as he blinked out of it, the room around him became clear. He was in some sort of laboratory. The lighting was so dim, nothing natural about it. The hum of computers buzzed distantly, muffled. Moving his head slightly, he could see two doctors or technicians working quietly, watching various screens. A third doctor with spiky grey hair entered the room carrying a tray of coffees and an orange tucked under his chin. He set down the coffees and shared them out, before settling down to peel his orange.

The smell of orange hit Jean-Paul's nose, and he half-sobbed mournfully.

Unaware of their patient, the doctor leant over to one of the working ones and said quietly, “I brought you an orange… do you want to share?” The working doctor shook his head, rolling his eyes at some in-joke. The first doctor shrugged and resumed pealing the orange, “Ok. I'll eat it slowly in case you change your mind.”

Jean-Paul tried to lick his lips, and found he couldn't quite manage it. The third doctor had pushed away from his console and was sipping at his coffee. He'd picked up a newspaper and was quite engrossed in reading the sports pages. The headline on the front page screamed, “90% of MUTANT KIND DISAPPEARS on M-DAY!” Jean-Paul strained to read the smaller subtitle, “Mutants speak out about Utopia! Most surviving Mutants are POWERLESS!”

He flicked his eyes to a clock on a wall, it was one of those calendar/clock types that they had in banks. The ones that had the date and the time. Jean-Paul almost whimpered as he realised it wasn't eight years later… it was only seven months!

Icy blue eyes widened and started to dart about the room, desperately looking for anything, anyone familiar. He spotted a jacket that was flung carelessly over a nearby chair and struggled to recognise the insignia. The logo was one he knew, but his panicked mind was scattered. He couldn't slow down fast enough to understand what was going on. He blinked and there was Bobby, standing in the shadows of the room.

He thought.

It was so dark, it could have been -

Bobby looked so sad. He stared at Jean-Paul with glassy hazel eyes, his mouth moving silently, `I want to see the Dawn.'

The doors on the opposite side opened, and three men walked in. One was a large man, in blue scrubs. He held a clipboard, and his glasses were pushed up on his head. Another doctor entered, wearing a lab coat. Finally, the third man made Jean-Paul remember the insignia on the jacket.

Nicholas Fury.

S.H.I.E.L.D.

Jean-Paul was in the care of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Tears flowed down his face freely, his heart breaking at the realisation. He began to blink, in a effort to keep his eyes clear enough to see properly. His eyes kept welling up, he couldn't stop the mourning for his imaginary life.

Nick Fury was speaking as he entered; his eye-patch side was toward Jean-Paul. “… Told the X-men that he's dead. They won't be coming for him. I just didn't want to get their hopes up, just in case we have to put a bullet in his skull anyway…” Nick turned his head fully to look at Jean-Paul, and his one eye widened before his head snapped back toward the doctors, “I thought you said he was to be under at all times!”

Everyone in the room suddenly startled and stared at him.

“What the hell?” The doctor with the clipboard started - Jean-Paul moaned as he realised this man had a similar voice as Beast. A long hiss began to sound in his head, and Jean-Paul realised with a sickening feeling that the things that encased his arms was pumping drugs into his system.

“Non! Mercy! Please! Please, don't do this to me anymore!” Desperately he looked around, his sobbing voice muffled by the air mask they'd strapped to his face. “NON! Noooo! Please! Stop it! Leave me alone! LET ME GO!!”

He briefly met Nick Fury's eye, and saw the conflicting guilt and anger there. Suddenly, the world started to tilt.

And Bobby was there!

“Tell me about the Dawn!” Bobby urged, his eyes crying beautiful frozen tears, “Show me the Dawn! PLEASE!”

Jean-Paul struggled to keep his eyes open.

 

 

When he next opened his eyes, he was sitting on a cold, stone floor. Naked.

And then there was Northstar.

“Oh, god.” Jean-Paul whispered, horrified. “What… what new horrors must I face?”

Then there was Northstar, standing on the other side of the room, staring at him.

They were in a large stone room. They were naked. Northstar had all the gore, the blood on him from when he'd run through all those people he murdered. Blood dripped from his black hair, the shine in it was tainted red. He stared at Jean-Paul with one imperious eyebrow raised as if daring him to comment upon the massacre that they were both responsible. His cool blue eyes were sharp as they focused on Jean-Paul.

As quiet as a whisper, Northstar lifted into the air effortlessly. He floated toward Jean-Paul, barely a foot over the ground. Arms slightly spread as the blood dripped from him. Jean-Paul scrambled backward, until his unprotected back hit the harsh wall. Northstar landed softly before him, and hunkered down before him. He rested his elbows on his knees, and left his fingers dangling before him. They dripped onto the floor. Jean-Paul and Northstar watched together as the blood formed a small pool, before they both looked at each other.

Northstar smiled brightly as he spread his hands and motioned the cold, circular room.

“Welcome home, Jean-Paul.”

Jean-Paul rocked slightly, running his hands up his sides. “This isn't ruh-right; my home is … my home is suh-suh-somewhere nice. Buh-bobby said so.”

“Bobby isn't real.” Northstar blinked once, “Obviously.”

“You're lying, Bobby said th-that you wuh-were lying.”

“Bobby said you were getting better, but you're not.” Northstar jerked a thumb over his shoulder, “Didn't you see it? That was the real world. That was real. I saw it. I was awake one night when the technicians forgot to up the dose. I saw everything. S.H.I.E.L.D. are keeping us in some sort of machine!”

“You're lying. Bu-buh-bobby…” Jean-Paul whimpered, sobbing, “Bobby said you wuh-were lying.”

“Bobby is a figment of our imagination. Created to keep us company as we were being treated. With all the Hydra commands gone and our psyche collapsing all around us, our silly Bobby was created to keep giving us commands.” Northstar tilted his head, blinking slowly, “You don't remember the counselling sessions really, do you?”

“What…?”

Northstar smiled kindly, despite the piece of brain matter that slipped off his long hair and landed with a sickening plut! “Oh, you dumb fuck.”

“Wuh-what's going on?” Jean-Paul insisted, “Where's my s-sister?!”

“They couldn't find her.” Northstar answered simply, “Remember? She's crazy.”

“Ah-annie---”

“Annie left the institute the same day Marilyn was killed. Remember? It was that tree thing - Black Tom? - that thing that stabbed Bobby through the chest, and started that Ice thing.” Northstar smiled, this time cruelly. “Bobby turned to ice. Remember? He and Lorna started to date again…”

“Y-you're lying. YOU'RE LYING.”

“Nick Fury never told the X-Men where we were. Logan found us. Remember, the sentinels, the cult, the bar…?” Northstar persisted, “Do you remember?”

“Nuh-no, the X-Men fuh-found us.” Jean-Paul persisted, “They puh-put us in the cage for our own safety.”

“YOU put us in the cage. YOU made the cage.” Northstar laughed at his confusion, “Oh, you dumb fuck. There was never a real cage.” He slapped the floor, splashing the hot, thick blood. “There was NEVER a REAL CAGE!”

Jean-Paul felt hot, fat tears fall down his face and collapsed against the wall. “NO! YOU'RE LYING! YOU'RE LYING!!”

Northstar let him cry for a long time, before Jean-Paul felt a hand dip gently into his black hair. Opening his eyes, he saw Northstar again. As he had been before he died. There were three oozing cuts in his uniform, right above his heart. Blood - HIS blood - bled profusely from the wound that Logan had inflicted. Jean-Paul knew if he touched the back of Northstar's head, he would find wooden splinters from where they had slid down the tree.

Northstar - he looked so much like the once real Northstar - stared at him sadly. His icy blue eyes were grave behind the orange visor. His gloved hand was gentle as it stroked down Jean-Paul's shivering form. “Shhh…” His smile was rueful. Northstar looked away from him, “Oh, Jeanne Marie… I never knew…”

He looked back at Jean-Paul regretfully and wise.

“We're not even real, Jean-Paul. You and I are not even real. We're just shards of our broken mind, and we need to let go before we can be put back together again.”

Jean-Paul reached up and grasped at the blood soaked uniform, pressing his face against the X-insignia. “Don't leave me alone.”

“You've got to let this go, so we can leave.” Northstar continued, his voice growing quieter. “You've got to be prepared for the Dawn.”

Jean-Paul shook his head desperately, “Don't leave! Don't leave me alone! I don't want to die!”

“You must.” Northstar pushed him back and grasped him by the shoulders, “You must let me go. You must let go of this.” He laughed brightly, “Jean-Paul, I'm not even real!”

Jean-Paul's fingers slipped from the uniform as Northstar stood and lifted gently into the air.

“They never found you.” Northstar shook his head as he floated backward. He began to glow slightly, the tips of his fingers and toes starting to shimmer as if he were speeding up faster than even Jean-Paul could see. “Bobby wasn't there, the X-men never found you. They think you're dead. They probably don't even remember you. None of this is real.”

Northstar was shimmering; his body was fading away like wisps of smoke. The smile he gave Jean-Paul was so beautiful, so free. “This is all a state of mind, don't you realise? A test of your will. You need to let go, you need to see the Dawn. And in the Dawn… we will be reborn.”

Jean-Paul raised a trembling hand as Northstar's light grew too bright to endure.

“Wait for the Dawn.”

Northstar breathed in and soon the light he emitted glowed so brightly, he burnt away. Jean-Paul closed his eyes tightly against the harsh light until it faded away. He waited, listening for anything other than his own harsh breath. He could hear nothing.

He was alone.

He was naked and cold.

In a darkened, silent room.

Every dream he'd ever had stripped away and lost in the darkness.

“And?” He whispered and looked around for someone to answer him, “And where now is my Dawn…?”

The shadows had no answer.

He was alone.

“Oh, god.”

Jean-Paul tilted his head back, breathing in hard as he did and began to scream.

 

+ Last Quarter +