Ha, yes. I am alive, although my computer is not. So! Here is this monstrosity. I broke this epic thing into chapters...it's been sitting in a file for months and I haven't finished it, but I need to post something and this is pretty decent, if a bit cliche. It's my take on the whole Bobby and John thing. Enjoy.

Warning: Slash, language

Robert Drake was a good boy from Boston. He didn't drink or do drugs, he did his homework most of the time, he managed Bs and the odd A. Good ol' Bobby was on the football team throughout middle school, and he played soccer in the park during the summer. He was going to be heading back to Community Prep for his sophomore year of high school in four months, where he had some close friends who, like him, stayed mostly out of trouble.

Oh, yes, and he had been hiding the fact that he could create and control ice for almost a year and a half. Bobby Drake was a mutant boy living in the Boston 'burbs.

It wasn't that bad in the winter. He'd always liked winter, and it sort of made sense now how he went year round wearing shorts and a t-shirt, even on the bitter, harsh February days when the wind was like nails of ice driving against exposed skin.

Everyone else assumed he did it to look tough, but this bothered him much less than the awful, oppressive heat. He snorted. You'd think that somewhere with such vicious winters wouldn't be so disgustingly humid in the summer.

Apart from the weather, there was nothing to betray his secret. Being from a good family in a good neighbourhood, he experienced relatively little stress. Oh, there were times when he had exams and big games and the normal teenage troubles, but nothing that activated his powers too much.

For the exams, he'd carve some notes in blocks of ice to relieve the pressure and keep the 'problem' under control. For the big games, he'd station himself near the ice cooler, volunteering to fill it up, administer ice while he was on the sidelines, and so on. It helped that he'd wanted to be a doctor when he grew up. It was just put down as an aspiring med-kid logging some hands-on practice.

For the teenage troubles, he'd make hundreds of little effigies from ice. He'd sit on the roof and throw them down at the ground. Sometimes he made hearts with names on them. Sometimes he'd fix them after they shattered on the driveway pavement. Sometimes he'd leave them to melt. He knew it was stupid, pathetic, cliché, but what displacement activities of Bobby Drake's weren't? His whims were fluid, one of the few aspects of him that was.

But the girl. The damn girl was going to end up destroying his illusion of normality. The little tart kept going after him. Bobby did not like her. He liked her intentions less, and her massive, hulking, jealous quarterback boyfriend least of all. Bobby had tried as hard as he could to avoid her, the whining, simpering wretch. But she kept after him, even though he had told her very many times NO.

It had gotten to the point where he'd accidentally frozen the ink in his pen and it had exploded just because she'd walked by his class. He used pencils now. Exams were coming up in a few days and between the already mind-boggling stress of them and that girl's constant hounding he felt like he was inches away from icing his whole house over.

It was bad that it was summer, because he couldn't just go freeze a couple of sidewalks like he had when that incident happened over the winter.

It was good that it was summer because no one questioned the amount of ice in the soda bottle he was clenching. If it were hot chocolate with chunks of ice floating around in it, that might have caused some awkward questions.

He shoved his geometry book across his desk and stood, stretching. He couldn't take this. He had to go for a walk, clear his mind. But he really didn't want to leave the comfort of central air.

Bobby had a moment of indecision as his cabin fever warred with the prim little icy voice that Bobby had been thinking with sometimes since he'd gotten his powers that was vehemently insisting that Bobby's entire body would really truly prefer to stay inside in the cool, thank you.

The little voice lost, a rarer and rarer occasion these days. Bobby went outside. It was only six-thirty in the evening. He yelled to his mom that he'd be going for a walk, would be back in a bit. She shouted back to be home in time for dinner in an hour.

Ronnie the exam-less seventh-grade jerk was playing some racing game on the Gamecube when Bobby came past the living room.

Ronnie looked up from the gullies of some rocky planet and waved cheerfully at his older brother, snickering.

"Lucky bastard," Bobby muttered as he slammed the screen door.

On his walk, he encountered her in the middle of the park. A nice African-American lady with white hair and a pleasant smile was out jogging near the teens.

One thing lead to another and he wound up with flying colours in his exams and a partial scholarship offer from Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters.

The school's founder and headmaster, Xavier, sent a letter requesting that Bobby come over the summer so he could do some catch-up work and get used to the boarding school before the school year went underway. His parents, thrilled that Bobby had gotten such a fabulous opportunity, agreed.

Bobby was waiting by the window in his room, drawing patterns on the glass with an icy brush of a finger. His suitcase was packed and on the bed, his room was tidied and the bed itself made (for once). He waited for the teacher to come pick him up. Her name was supposed to be Ms. Monroe. Or something. When he saw a car pull into the driveway, he grabbed his suitcase and bolted down the stairs.

"Excited?" his mother teased, smiling fondly. She ruffled his hair. He started to shrug her off, but thought better of it and let her envelope him in a massive maternal hug. His dad had just smiled, proud of his elder son. While his parents were fussing over Bobby, Ronnie stood behind them and smirked. Then he flipped his older brother off. Bobby returned the affectionate gesture.

The woman in the chair cleared her throat and adjusted her glasses pointedly, but not unkindly. She stood, putting her hand on Bobby's shoulder.

"If you'll excuse us, I ought to take Bobby to the campus. It's quite a drive," she said cheerfully.

"Of course, Dr. Grey," his mother agreed, eyes shining. Dr. Grey let Bobby finish his goodbyes, then shook hands with his parents and left the school's contact information. "Ready Bobby?" she queried, smiling. "Let's go."

She led him to the car and put his suitcase in the trunk. He watched the house till it was out of sight.

Inside, his mother kept her eyes trained on the car until it turned the corner. Bobby's father, who was looking over the contact information, made a small noise of confusion.

"What is it, honey?" asked Mrs. Drake.

"Well, it's nothing. Just that they forgot to put down the address, is all," replied Mr. Drake. Both parents shrugged it off and Mrs. Drake collected Ronnie for a visit to his friend's house.

In the car, Bobby was just getting over his awe of the woman next to him.

"Where are we going?" Bobby inquired meekly. Dr. Grey smiled at him, though not in a condescending way.

"We're going to a special school, Bobby. There are people there with powers like you and me. Well, not exactly like you and me, but it's a place where mutants can be safe."

Bobby winced at the word 'mutant'. Dr. Grey hadn't looked at him at all while she had been driving, but she noticed. Somehow.

"Do you not like the word 'mutant'? It's nothing to be ashamed of, Bobby. It's not an insult. It's a fair description of what we are. We have powers. Gifts. It's absolutely nothing to be scared or ashamed of. We are still human beings. We just have a few special extras. Now, you'll be going into what some of the students call Mutant High…"

'Mutant High'. Bobby thought as Dr. Grey's voice washed over him. That's…new.