3. Chapter 3—
June 22 11:11 Utopia
Julian has just batted off his alarm clock for the third time, and is staring up at the low ceiling above his narrow bunk, as there is a shelf for his roommate to sleep above
him. He should get up and going; his roommate is already in power management class (being a mutant with chronic control issues).
Later today, he has a date to meet on the mainland, at the Hard Rock café. They're going to a concert later—Foo Fighters—he has the tickets in his wallet. Along with a
foil packet, which he's wondering if he'll get to use (for the first time ever), since Anne seems experienced in such matters, where he's mostly bluffing (but he's watched
a lot of porn and is generally a fast learner).
His life sucked for a little while. It started when he suddenly became a member of an endangered species that was the objective of a trophy hunting safari
(as he thinks of it). It had really continued to suck when he'd nearly died—multiple times—and when he lost many of his friends to the Purifiers
(prime hunters in the safari). It seemed that, for a while, everything was going down the shitter.
It seems like things are getting back on track now. He's home—well, as close to home as he's ever going to be, seeing as his parents have cut all contact with him and packed
up their house. It's still great to be somewhere familiar. And somewhere comparatively tolerant of 'his kind', as he's now forced to consider it. Plus, the situation seems to have
calmed down, after a rocky transition where they were driven to inhabit an island by Bolivar Trask and his men.
A somewhat-normal life could be his again, at least for a good while. The sun shines in a cloud-free sky; his remaining living friends are safe and almost happy; he's getting
back to more regular teenaged thoughts, like getting laid, and finishing off school, and what he wants to do with his life after.
He stretches a hand behind his head, with a small grin, wondering what tonight holds. He has it all planned out. He'll whisper something in her ear—probably 'Let's go somewhere
a little more private'—and she'll smile at him, knowing what he's thinking (and, of course, aided by beer, because Anne has fake I.D.'s and experience using them), and she'll whisper back—
POP!
Julian is so startled that he bites his own tongue. He turns his head and sees—Laura? He sits up rapidly and hits his head on the low ceiling above his bed with a resounding BONK!
"God damn it!" he snarls, momentarily distracted, then the pain clears. "What the hell are you—"
"We must leave, now, and get as far away from this place as possible," Laura says. She looks weird—he finally realizes it's because she's covered in soot, and ashes, and blood
(although there are no open cuts). There are random pieces of metal tangled in her hair.
"Get dressed." Laura is at his closet now, and he blinks as she opens the door.
She's done it. X has gone bat-shit crazy. He wonders if he can manage to call the Cuckoos on the psychic phone without talking out loud, an art he's never managed perfectly. A pair
of jeans is flung at him; he fails to catch them and they hit him in the head.
"You are taking too long," Laura adds.
"…" Julian pulls the garment off his head. Maybe he should try reasoning with her? "X…why are you in my room right now?" he asks meekly, hoping if he doesn't sound
threatening, she won't attack him.
WUMPF! He reaches up in time to prevent the t-shirt from hitting him as well.
"Hurry," Laura scolds.
She sounds like he is a five-year-old misbehaving. He blinks again.
"You didn't answer me," he says, figuring that at least he can pin her against the wall with his mind if she attacks. That should buy him a minute to get into the hallway,
even though he's only wearing boxers.
Laura straightens, having been rooting in his drawer for socks. She takes a deep breath, as if searching for patience. "You are going to die, tomorrow, at precisely 12:05 in the afternoon."
He stares. Then…"Are you planning to kill me?"
"No. Utopia will be attacked by Sentinels, seeking to kill you. Unless you depart now, and accompany me to a place of safety."
"And you know this because…" Julian trails off, waiting for a response.
"In my timeline, you are dead," Laura says. "I have witnessed your death twice now."
"That's impossible," he points out. "How can I die twice?"
"I am not certain, but I have seen it. Get dressed." Laura throws a pair of socks at him. He catches them, and throws them back. "I'm not going anywhere with you," he says calmly.
"!" Laura stamps the ground with her boot, distraught. "I have already had this discussion with you!" she says, and then it is too much, and she bursts into loud tears.
Julian is alarmed. Moments ago his life was peaceful, comparatively normal; now he has a psychopathic murderer spontaneously appear in the middle of his room, bark orders at him,
|tell him he will die—and then reveal she is emotionally unstable.
He feels his mouth twitch, and he realizes he is about to laugh. Quickly he pushes that notion aside and reaches for his shirt. Pulling it on, he approaches the girl (who is holding her face
in her hands and moaning something unintelligible) to do…what?
Julian reaches out gingerly, hesitates, then decides she probably won't gut him and touches her shoulder. "Hey, umm…don't cry?" he suggests, feeling useless, and therefore stupid.
Laura looks up slightly, between her fingers. "I c-chose a different sh-shirt," she sniffles.
"Pardon?" He edges towards the door.
"You didn't d-die in that one," she says.
He stops for a moment. Her eyes are very full of hurt, and slightly glazed over. There is a quality of longing about her expression—and he's reminded of the way he's seen various
people around the mansion look after burying a friend.
Is he actually considering her story? Julian stops himself.
"What happened?" he asks, despite himself.
…
June 22 12:34 Utopia
Julian sighs, and rubs his still-mussed hair.
The girl, sitting on his bed with him, has methodically described every event leading up to her presence (concealing some facts, unbeknownst to him) in his room. Her story is incredible and
terrifying—he dies twice, still a virgin!—and is something Cyclops should definitely be aware of, except that their 'general' wouldn't look kindly on the situation.
Up to this point, Julian hadn't even thought time travel possible; a little voice in his head spoke up. Why not? Everything else in his life seemed impossible. He could fly and lift things with his
mind. He'd kissed a girl in the air. He'd gone to a school for super heroes. He'd been nearly killed several times (once when a crazy woman he thought of as Edward Scissorhand's girlfriend
stabbed him through vital organs). He'd seen giant, flying robots. A pink robot, too.
He lives on an island sanctuary for super heroes called Utopia, for crying out loud; an island on which a mutant called Forge the Maker—whose ability was to make devices
(like time gadgets)—lives on. The more he thinks about it, the more it all seems possible.
Julian grimaces. "So you're saying I'm like Jean Grey?"
Laura looks at him blankly.
"She dies a lot," he explains, rolling his eyes at Laura's ignorance. "It's always the TK that gets snuffed. Just tell me I don't shout 'Cyclops!' before I die."
"You don't," Laura says. "You are usually talking to me when you expire."
"I'm not a can of food," he says, annoyed.
"What should I say, then?" Laura asks.
"Uhh…pass away? Die? Go into the light?"
"You did 'go into the light'," Laura says. "Then you exploded, and an unidentifiable body part struck me on the cheek. Possible your finger, or your—"
Julian holds up his hand. "Jeez, I don't want to think about that!"
"Neither do I," Laura says stiffly. "We have wasted too much time speaking. We must hurry."
Suddenly Julian realizes what she has been saying, and his face pales. "You mean—it's going to happen again? I might die today?"
"Yes," Laura says in frustration.
He bounds to his feet, pulls his hair slightly, then stops. "Okay. Alright. So…what do we do?"
…
June 22 1:17 Utopia
"JULIAN!"
The boy curses inwardly—it's Cessily, and she's going to want to know what's up. He looks carefully at the ground, pretending not to hear the other girl.
This is too crazy to tell her about.
"Do not stop," Laura warns, although he is not showing any signs of doing so, the backpack hefted tightly to his shoulder, his face downturned and expression determined.
Sllllllllllltt! Cessily snakes around them and blocks their way. "Ohmigod! Hi!"
She looks back and forth between the two, an her face splits into a grin. "REALLY?" she exclaims.
Julian's eyebrows draw together. "…what?" he asks, not certain he wants to hear this.
"I'm SO happy for you!" Cessily beams.
He wonders if this could be some elaborate practical joke, the entire scenario; it would have to be if it was anyone but Laura that had delivered the punchline—because she wouldn't
know a joke if it bit her in the ass. She'd probably try to kill it.
"Happy about what?" Laura asks for him.
"YOU!" Cessily says. "Finally, geez! You've been making sheep eyes at each other for long enough!"
"Wha—no! Where the hell did you get that idea?" Julian asks, exasperated.
"Aren't you?" the girl asks, sounding confused. "I mean…it looked like it…where are you going, anyway?"
"Uhhh, we're seeing a movie in town," Julian says.
"Cool! Can I come? What movie?" Cessily says, and before he can answer, Santo and Viktor show up.
"Yeah, what movie?" Santo bellows.
Laura looks very irritated now; he understands her completely, considering his life depends on getting away right now. He clears his throat.
"ALONE," he says, then kicks himself.
"SEE?" Cessily squeals. "I called it first! Can I come to the wedding? Ooh, I'll be Laura's bridesmaid!"
"What the—you're marrying X?" Santo's jaw drops.
"Oh, god, NO," Julian says, feeling the situation is getting completely out of hand. "Times like these, I'm not even sure why you're my friends!" He stops, realizing this might be the last time
he sees his companions, if he doesn't survive whatever is coming for him. "Look—I've just got some stuff to take care of, okay? It's not a date."
"But—" Cessily said.
"Goodbye, Cessily," Laura says firmly, grasping Julian's t-shirt sleeve and pulling him after her as she resumes the walk towards the motorboats (Cyclops having forbidden the usage of powers off Utopia)
…
June 22 17:20 Sunset Boulevard, San Fransisco
"So…where are we going now?" Julian asks after a while. They are walking down a busy street in San Francisco, lost amongst a sea of shoppers and tourists. He's hot; it must be more than
a hundred degrees out. His feet ache from walking in his flip-flops, and his eyes hurt from the glare of the scorching sun (because Laura is wearing his sunglasses). At first he'd resisted the
urge to be a gentleman, heeding Cessily's accusations of earlier; but he'd had a hard time ignoring the distressed expression of his silently suffering companion.
"You alright there?" he'd asked.
Laura had paused. "I am fine. My eyes are sensitive to bright light."
When tears had begun to roll down her cheeks from the glare, he'd finally pulled his own shades off and wordlessly passed them to her.
"We are travelling towards the bus depot," Laura says.
Julian stops. "What—why? Why do we need a bus?"
"We need to get away from here. As far as is possible in the time remaining. I would prefer Europe—"
"Laura…earlier you said Utopia was going to be attacked," Julian says, remembering. "This attack didn't involve only me…did it?"
Silence. Laura's face is unreadable behind the glasses, so he reaches out and lowers them to see her eyes. They are full of guilt, just like he thought they would be.
"We have to go back," Julian says firmly. "I can't let my friends fight that alone. I—"
"You will die!" Laura snaps. "And your death will accomplish nothing, except to—"
"To what?" Julian asks. "Make you sad?"
Laura pauses, trying to formulate an answer.
"You're being selfish. Who's going to die in my place? Think of that, Laura…instead of trying to prevent yourself grieving over something you never had."
Silence. Laura doesn't know what to say. She feels shame—and anger—and insult. She watches him back away, becoming lost in the sea of people.
"Have a nice trip," he calls, waving at her as he backs towards the crosswalk.
He doesn't see the bus.
…
June 23 12:05 Providence Hospital, San Francisco
Laura sits in the waiting room, her face worn. She knows what the nurse will say. There is no possible chance that Julian could have survived having a bus strike him at full
speed (of course, the light had been green).
She tried to save him but was too late; there were too many people between them, and the bus had been going too fast. She's already figured out the math in a physics equation, and proved
to herself that the only failure was allowing him to slip away.
Laura finds herself pulling her hair. Three times, now, she has failed to preserve Hellion's life. It is as if he is destined to die, and nothing she does can prevent it.
I will not surrender, she promises herself. The same promise she thought while kneeling beside his prone form on the crosswalk, stroking a part of his hair that was not matted with
blood. He'd already been unconscious, his heart slowing, when the paramedics arrived on the scene.
She'd thought of Elixir immediately, and had tried to contact the Cuckoos for assistance; no one had answered. Her communicator would not work with the Utopia communicators of this timeline;
and if she had tried to find him herself, it would have been too late as the attack would already have begun.
So she sat in the waiting room, waiting for the inevitable moment when she'd reach up to the device on her arm and press the buttons to return herself to her timeline.
And try again.
"Excuse me, miss?" A nurse is shuffling towards her, and she looks up.
"Yes?" she mouths.
"He's awake and in stable condition," the nurse says, her face dimpling with a smile. "He's asked to see you. In room 190."
"But…" Laura is confused. "He was struck by a large vehicle."
"His leg is broken, and a few ribs were cracked, but he was lucky. It's almost like something absorbed the brunt of the impact."
Laura knows instantly that he must have shielded himself. She gets to her feet and follows the nurse to the visiting room; she has been allowed in because of her lie on the
admission forms, listing herself as his sister. When they enter the room, Laura sees several curtained partitions. The nurse heads towards one and pulls the curtains open.
"I'll leave you two alone for a bit…I'm sure you have a lot to discuss," the nurse says. She exits the room, pulling a cart behind her.
Julian is obviously bedridden, his leg in a cast and suspended from a rack by a metal wire; there are bandages around his torso, and a few applied to his face. One encircles the
circumference of his head entirely. He is bruising heavily, dark plum blotches over his cheeks and nose, and his eyes.
"This is your fault," he says thickly, through the gallons of morphine they have pumped into him and his swollen lips; his expression is that of annoyance.
Laura smiles with relief, her eyes twinkling suspiciously, and she approaches his bedside. "Yes," she says, although she doesn't seem to be too concerned about the
failure. She reaches him and hesitantly her fingertips brush his, on the hand laying by his side on the bed.
He looks up and doesn't know what to say. He was prepared to yell at her—for hours—for what has happened, but it now seems petty. Stupid. He walked in front of the bus, didn't
he? Wasn't that the first lesson his mother had taught him…look both ways?
"Okay," he says. He's smiling in a drugged, compliant way.
Also, he hasn't seen Laura smile much, before. Once, when he'd saved her ass after Nimrod deep-fried her like a KFC chicken wing; and another time, when he and Santo got into a
ridiculous fight over a video game and he'd turned around to see her lurking in the dark part of the room, her eyes on him, with a slight smile of…derision? Amusement?
He wonders if it was affection. He's always found it strange, how he can treat her worse and worse, and she just eats it up, silently worships him or something. He can tell—Laura has
never, ever breathed a word to him about her feelings—but there is an almost tangible tension whenever she directs her eyes towards his location.
Like she's doing now. And it totally worked, didn't it? He'd forgotten how angry he was with her.
"I really, really like you," he says dreamily, allowing her fingers to remain. "Like really…really…like…what was I saying again?"
Laura pulls her hand back. "We need to extract you from this hospital," she says, sensibly.
"Oh," he says. He is glad she's pulled away; a little part of him feels a sense of dismay at what he'd just said, but he can't remember what he was talking about. "Wait…what?"
"You cannot stay here," Laura says. She has turned around and reached for a clipboard at the end of his bed; he watches as she studies it, her eyes skimming down the page.
"They have set the bone, and pinned it in place. If you use your telekinesis to lower yourself into a wheelchair, we could—"
"I'm not going anywhere," he says sleepily. "I've had a seery…seri…serious injury. I got to sleep this off a bit. Also...don't know if you noticed, but I'm a little slow right now."
"Perhaps," Laura says. She checks her watch anxiously and moves away from him—towards the door.
"Where are you—LAURA!" he calls, sitting up slightly and wincing as a pain shoots up from his leg. It helps him focus; he can see that she's just closing the door.
POP!
Laura stares in disbelief at the sleek, human-sized robotic Sentinel that has appeared at the foot of Julian's bed, aiming an arm at him; and before either of them can even
process a single thought, it has fired its artillery.
PAFFT!
POP!
It is gone, and Laura is left behind, her hand frozen on the doorknob, her eyes glued to the bed where Julian is still laying—with a neat, round hole in his forehead.
His eyes are still open.
