A/N: This story is based on the events of X-Factor #252 - 254 and motivated by the sad reality that the cancellation of this series is a certainty ending with issue 262. If you didn't know that ... Well, you do now.
"There's something wrong with Shatterstar."
Layla cast Rictor a distracted glance from where she had been watching Monet. "What was that? I didn't hear you."
He quickly shook his head and made the mental correction: There's been something wrong with 'Star for awhile; ever since he got back from that mission in Seattle involving that troupe of superhero wanna-be's, The X-Ceptionals. 'Star hadn't been able to tell Jamie very much on the plane trip back to their headquarters* except that the antagonist killing off those humans had been from the Mojoverse. He hadn't been able to provide any detailed information and Jamie had actually been satisfied with that. Where Mojoworlders were concerned, Jamie Madrox's intuitive radar was distinctly flawed.
Rictor's, however, was not.
He knew that anything that had to do with Mojo affected Shatterstar deeply and the fact that he'd had the balls to try and tell him the same garbage he had told Jamie was proof of that. What was his name? He never said. Why was he on Earth? His agenda wasn't clear. Did you and Longshot have any connection with him? No, he was a complete stranger.
Fucking bullshit, Ric concluded.
'Star's conduct throughout the questioning had been oddly guarded and his responses carefully rehearsed, like a man desperately hiding something. Rictor had been poised to use his powers as an act of persuasion to shake the truth out of him when Rahne suddenly announced she was leaving the group (again) to find her son. The Mexican concluded that she had to have the absolute worst timing in the universe where he and his relationship with the alien was concerned, but 'Star had volunteered to assist them. Thinking back, Julio reflected that he had been uncharacteristically eager. It hadn't been until they'd returned and Ric saw Longshot up and about that he realized why 'Star had been so motivated to get them out of the building and search for Rahne's missing son.
Before they'd left, Longshot had been in some sort of supernatural coma and relegated to the morgue lying on a slab (with that in mind Ric later made it abundantly clear to Jamie that if anything similar ever happened to him, he wanted to be lying comfortably in his goddamned bed. Morgues were for people without a fucking pulse for Christ's sake). Shatterstar had been the last to visit him before teleporting he, Ric, and Rahne off to Niffleheim. An hour after they'd left, Longshot was back on his feet seemingly none the worse for wear for his little ordeal. No one in the building had connected the dots, which was pretty pathetic for a team of would-be super-sleuths in Ric's opinion. He figured it all out when he got back, even though neither Mojoworlder were willing to talk about it. When things started drifting towards a personal tangent, the pair seemed to have some sort of innate rapport and mutually clammed up and all of that alien bullshit was beginning to wear on Ric's nerves, which were pretty raw even on his best days.
The mission with Rahne to find Tier had left little opportunity for Rictor and Shatterstar to talk to each other (or do much of anything else for that matter). They battled Hela's forces, found Hrimhari, received an amulet designed to track the were-boy's mystical aura, and faced down Darwin and some white she-wolf. It had been one damned crazy week but, upon their return, they discovered X-Factor hadn't fared much better. Polaris had lost her mind and Theresa had sacrificed her humanity to save her. Banshee, Rictor, and Shatterstar all had history together serving as Cable's self-styled mutant terrorist cell when people their age should have been in high school or college. Losing her was a personal blow. In light of all that had happened, Julio decided to shelve his suspicions about Shatterstar and Longshot. He knew he wouldn't make any headway with that particular mystery anyway. Besides, the alien duo were back to acting like their weird, usual selves and he was content with that. Life went back to office work, training, and those blissful 4am fuck sessions. But it didn't last for long.
As much as he loved her (like a sister and not, y'know, as anything else, he always clarified in his mind), Julio concluded that Rahne was a magnet for trouble. She had no sooner showed back up on their doorstep with kid in tow when everything went straight to hell. Literally. Their headquarters (and, really, by then it had become so much more than that. It had been their home) was destroyed and the team got pulled into playing a game of tug-of-war with Hell gods and poor little Tier acting as the rope in the whole affair.
Confirming Ric's earlier suspicions about what now included both members of the Sinclair family, Tier had the unfortunate distinction of being the seventh billion person born on earth that fulfilled a prophecy that allowed the Lords of seven dimensional Hells battle for sole control of them, contingent on the youth's death. Julio really couldn't figure out the logistics of it all and couldn't remember all the names of the antagonists involved. Truth to tell, he really didn't give a shit. The only thing that left any impression on him was their battle against Pluto who defeated them with child-like ease. The gigantic monarch of Hades also broke Shatterstar's left arm.
Over the course of his violent life, 'Star had broken every single bone in his body at one time or other. The list went on to include perforated organs, loss of limbs, brain damage, and even loss of life. Sadly, that was the role of a gladiatorial slave who served Mojo and it was the chief reason his particular line were designed with healing factors. By now, Shatterstar was largely desensitized to pain and treated injuries with little more than mild contempt. That broken arm, though ... that was different.
It wasn't healing for one thing.
'Star was actually complaining about it, that was another. Mojoverse warriors didn't give voice to discomfort and he had embraced that covenant with fervent zeal. The fact he even brought it up was significant and his continued favouring of the limb attracted Rictor's notice while everything was falling to pieces around their ears.
'Star managed to teleport their beleaguered group to Wolverine's safe house in Nova Scotia; the same place Rahne had chosen to raise her son along with Jack Russell, the original Werewolf by Night. Jack had disappeared and Rahne wasn't particularly forthcoming about what had happened to him. It was coming to a point that Rictor was close to bitch-slapping the Scot for all the trouble she had put them through. It made him wonder what he had ever felt for her. Six months ago, she had asked him if she had made him gay and he had responded with the truth: No. If she were to ask again, he might feel prompted to add, Your fucking mind games are enough to solidify the fact that I made the right choice. That choice being Shatterstar.
While everyone was trying to decompress in the small living room, Rictor took stock of the situation. Layla was starting to get some sort of mental bearing back from her shock of seeing Jamie disappear and was now focusing her attention on Monet, who was weakly slumped on the sofa. There was something strange going on with her, too, but Ric didn't dwell on it. The Muslim was a long-time teammate but they weren't exactly close friends and ever since her fight with Guido, she had become downright unstable. Speaking of unstable, Polaris was grabbing furtive glances out of the window and talking with Darwin about strategy options. She was a natural leader (once your eyes stopped aching looking at her hair and costume) but she was no Jamie Madrox and Ric resented her a little for taking over and bossing them around. He had never been good with following authority at the best of times and still didn't completely trust her. She was the daughter of Magneto, after all, and Rictor had been a casualty of their twisted little family on more than one occasion. Down the hall, Rahne was getting Tier settled into bed.
Shatterstar and Longshot were missing.
Leaving the room, Rictor went into the kitchen and looked out of the window in the back door. In the dark yard, he could see two figures by the picnic table lit by a gas lantern. 'Star had his coat off and Longshot was carefully bandaging a splint around the warrior's upper arm. Slipping soundlessly outside Rictor crouched low on the back deck, his ears straining to catch snatches of the Mojoworlders conversation.
"[-two places, perhaps even three. You have to stop moving the arm-]"
"[I need to use my swords-]"
"[You'll have no strength to your strikes. I'll fashion a sling-]"
"Fekt!" Shatterstar spat in disgust. "[I'd sooner have lost an eye than one of my sword arms!]"
Longshot looked at him soberly for a moment. In the low light, his left eye glowed an ethereal yellow. "[Take it back,]" he suddenly said in a voice very different than his usual carefree manner of talking. It sounded hard and demanding and those were two traits that were usually not associated with him. He was a different slave model than Shatterstar, created to incite humor and entertainment for the Audience. Bloodshed and violence had been 'Star's burden to provide.
Staring hard down at the surface of the picnic table, 'Star passed him one curt shake of his head. "Nai."
"[I want you to take back what you gave me, sifeoh-]"
"[And if I do? What happens if you slip back into a coma right on this very lawn? We need your luck power if we're going to survive this.]"
"[And you need your healing factor if you intend to be among those who do survive.]"
'Star looked up at him and then stubbornly shook his head again. "[I won't do it, taosha. Get on with that stupid sling. I want to get back inside before Julio begins to worry.]"
"[Too late about that,]" Rictor called out, stepping down to the lawn and crossing the short distance to join them. Longshot looked nervous and guilty at being caught but 'Star only stared at Julio in exasperation. He had teleported two times tonight and the strain showed in his fair features. The waxy light from the lantern was not flattering to his face. Right now, he looked as old if not older than Longshot and that was surely an impossibility. Right?
Was it? Ric had to submerge a shiver and leveled a stare at the both of them. "I want to know what's going on." He didn't want to betray the fact that he'd had a hard time following the conversation. He was fluent in Cadre, the language of the rebellion on their homeworld, but their accents gave the words a strange twist. And they talked fast and in far more complex patterns than he was used to in his measured conversations with 'Star. He grasped the basics, though, and that was really the only thing that mattered, even if he didn't recognize the two words the pair used for each other in lieu of names.
"His left arm is broken in at least three places." Longshot spoke up. His voice was almost a whisper.
"He's not healing," Julio said, looking at 'Star who- of the pair of them- dropped his eyes first. "A simple broken arm, and it's not healing. His bruises haven't faded either. But you, Longshot, you haven't got a mark on you. Why is that?" When the blond opened his mouth, he added, "I swear to God if you answer with 'luck' I'll blast you into the woods."
"Julio, do not be mad with him," 'Star said, grabbing his lover's wrist with his good hand. He could feel the vibrations coursing through the Mexican's system; a precursor to an attack or simply an indication of barely repressed rage. It all depended on Rictor's mindset at the moment and he didn't look, in the parlance of this world, like a 'happy camper'. After a brief internal struggle, the stricken alien chose to admit, "I passed part of my uemeur to Longshot when he was unconscious so that he would recover."
"How the hell is that even possible?"
Both Mojoworlders fell silent and exchanged one of those inscrutable looks. Of the pair of them, it was Longshot who said, "I told him to take it back."
It served to divert the flow of questioning. Rictor snapped his head around to 'Star. "Do it."
"There's no guarantee that the damage Scattershot wrought in his mind has healed-"
"Scattershot? Who the hell is-" Ric's eyes widened when he saw his partner grimace and flush. "That's the Mojoverse prick you fought in Seattle, wasn't it? You told me you didn't know his name. You lied to me!"
"I wasn't comfortable bringing the subject up. It's personal."
"You know everything about my life, Gav. Everything single thing. All I've gotten out of you is lies and misdirection since the day you first showed up in Vermont."
Shatterstar's eyes widened in alarm. "I haven't-"
"What happened to you in the Mojoverse when you went back? Why do you look the way you do? You never did tell me what shit you got up to with Layla in Latveria. And you've never given me a straight answer about him!" He gestured violently at Longshot who actually betrayed a rare flinch.
"This is not the time. When all has been put back to rights, you and I will discuss these matters at length. But not now."
"Pretty fucking convenient to dangle that juicy carrot when you know we've all reached the end of life as we know it on planet earth," Ric sneered.
"All is not yet lost-"
"How many 'ports do you have left in you?"
Startled by the abrupt change of topic, Shatterstar could only stare at him.
"No more bullshit. I can see just looking at you how tapped out you are. How many teleports, 'Star?"
"One," the alien admitted. "Although it will depend on the distance."
"Don't you get it?" Raw emotion was seeping into Julio's voice now, making it sound hoarse and rough. "If you die from the stress of that, the world is over for me whether we win this thing or not. My family disowned me after all that shit in Mexico. Members of our team are dropping off like flies. We just lost our home. You're all I've got left and I'm not going to watch you kill yourself because of some outdated warrior honor code. Take back whatever you gave to Longshot. Now!"
"[It does not have to be all of it, sifeoh,]" Longshot said quietly.
"[From a strategic standpoint even that-]"
"FUCK STRATEGY!" Julio shouted down at 'Star, making him wince. "This isn't about X-Factor anymore. It isn't about earth. It's about you. For once in your life you need to stop worrying about everyone else and focus on yourself for a change. We need you!" He layed a trembling hand on the side of 'Star's neck; an intimate touch, not caring that Longshot was standing there and watching them closely. His voice dropped to an unsteady whisper. "I need you, Gav."
'Star looked up at him and swallowed. "Julio ..."
Longshot stared at his fellow Mojoworlder and his left eye began to glow. "Take back as much as you can. I'm confident all will turn out for the best." He betrayed a semblance of his usual roguish grin. "I'm lucky that way."
"Hiei'k taosha," 'Star muttered under his breath, looking distinctly unhappy. His left eye glowed and the pair stared fixedly at each other. Looking on, Rictor got the impression that he was watching something deeply private between the pair, something that others of their kind wouldn't be able to mimic. The Mojoverse was a dimension of science and magic and most of the time Rictor forgot about the latter (mostly to preserve what little sanity he had left). Watching this odd exchange made the hair on the back of his neck crawl with unease, deepening his suspicions about the two of them. Dios, he had so many questions he wanted to ask but 'Star was right about one thing: Now was not the time.
Less then a minute passed and the odd, glaring glow of their eyes faded to a muted yellow and finally back to normal. Longshot was still standing. Even more, he looked enormously pleased with himself. "See? I knew that all would be well. Didn't I say-"
"No luck puns or I'll stab you with my one good arm," Shatterstar responded sourly, but he already looked better. That ashy paleness to his features was fading and he was sitting up a little straighter now.
Ric felt his legs threaten to unhinge as he fought a wave of desperate relief. "I can rig up a sling for him, Longshot. Maybe you can go back to the cabin and do something about the low morale in there?" He flashed the alien a glance, his unspoken words clearly etched in his eyes which were bright with suppressed tears.
Longshot gave no indication of what he saw and merely nodded. "A juggling act usually cheers people up," he said and turned without another word and jogged easily back to the building.
'Star muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "idiot" in Cadre but Julio didn't dwell on it. He sat down on the picnic table and looked down at the ground, scrubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he felt a hand grasp his shoulder, he violently shook it off. "You could have told me. You should have told me. Goddamn it, Gav."
"I'm sorry, Julio."
Rictor looked resentfully at his partner, ready to fly into him about the secrets and the lies and just couldn't bring himself to do it. Because Shatterstar was sorry. That was the damned pity of it all. Whatever his reasoning it almost always boiled down to his base design: To live for the moment and let his instincts guide him in the choices he had to make. In 'Star's previous life, second-guessing meant death. It was just as difficult for him to explain his motivations as it was for Julio to suppress his emotions.
Ric huffed out a breath and it ended in a sigh of surrender. At least now 'Star was healing and that was the main crisis he had been worrying about. The other concerns would have to wait. "I know you are," he said at last, helping 'Star put on his jacket. Then he began sorting through the first aid kit for a bandage that would be serviceable as a sling. "I should have confronted you right off the bat about what I was thinking but, as usual-"
"Rahne," they said in unison and then looked at each other, as if bringing up her name explained everything. And in a way it did. She was 'Star's cross to bear just like Longshot was Julio's. It made Ric realize that maybe he didn't corner the market on suspicions or misgivings. Surely Shatterstar must have heard the stories from the team at one point or other: Like Ric's dealings with Quicksilver in an attempt to get his lost powers back. Or his two failed suicide attempts. No, Rictor wasn't absolved of the sin of misdirection either.
But 'Star never pressed for details. He never pushed the boundaries of their relationship.
As if catching the Mexican's train of thought, 'Star said, "We have been through darker times than these, Julio." He had been fitted with the sling and was testing the limited functionally of the primitive device. The look on his face said he didn't like it, but he would wear it because Ric had made it for him. "We will prevail as we always do and afterwards, you and I will take a vacation. A long one. We will talk and laugh and fuck."
That last part managed to rouse a ghost of a smile across Julio's unhappy face. "We will, huh?"
"As much as you want!" Shatterstar favored him with an adoring grin and, at the sight of it, a rash of gooseflesh broke out all over Julio's body chilling him to the bone. He had never had any kind of premonition before (in his pessimistic view, potential conflicts were all always going to turn out badly in one form or another) but this one was shocking with its sheer clarity. There was something bad lying just over the horizon. Some life-altering event that was setting its sights solely on them. He didn't know what it was, only that he desperately needed to prevent it from happening at all costs.
He pictured that Mexican beach in Manzanillo; that place that had marked the turning point in their relationship back when they had been barely out of their teens. He was just about to tell (screw asking nicely, he was about to demand) 'Star to teleport them there, just the two of them and damn the others, when 'Star looked back at the cabin and said, "We should head back inside. We need to become a unified group in this crisis now more than ever."
In the low light, Rictor was glad that 'Star couldn't see the embarrassed blush cover his face. That mad impulse to flee was extinguished by the shame that he had been prepared to abandon his friends just to save their ass. There was no logic to why he had wanted to do it; only that the timing had been perfect for a successful escape. Intuitively, he knew there wouldn't be another. With a mute nod, he followed his boyfriend back into the cabin.
As things deteriorated at an alarming rate and the losses escalated, he never forgot that startling flash of insight. And he realized that his first instinct had been right:
They should have left when they had the chance.
End note: As the end of the series progresses to its conclusion, I imagine that I got a few things wrong with this piece. All I can say to that is: Man, I sure hope so!