Going back to the apartment is strange.
Julian unlocks the door telekinetically and realizes they're going to have to find a way to explain to the landlord that they lost the keys without getting yelled at or fined horribly.
They stand in the doorway awkwardly, looking into the room, which looks exactly as it did when they left four days ago.
Four days ago.
Christ, Julian thinks, he's probably lost at least one of his jobs from unexcused absences. He wonders if groveling will help him get them back.
"Do you need help," Julian asks flatly.
He can feel Elixir's sideways glare. "You didn't ask that when we were going up the stairs,"
"It's only six floors," Julian says, and then he can pretty much hear Elixir rolling his eyes as he brushes past, into the room.
They're still wearing the same clothes from four days ago, which is just gross, and Julian shouts, "I call the shower," at the same moment Elixir moves toward the bathroom, shrugging off his leather jacket with a disgusted expression that suggests he's never wearing it again. It's probably a good idea; it's got blood on it.
"You can't call the shower," Elixir protests,
"Tough, I just did," Julian says,
"I was the one who was tortured, here," Elixir says,
"You're the one with the healing powers," Julian counters, refusing to back down just because the casual delivery of the truth fucking stings, "And I'm the one who looks like I fell asleep with half of my face in brown and yellow watercolors," He begins to shoulder past Elixir, only to get grabbed and have his face cupped between two golden hands. He's about to protest, because it hurts, thank you very much, but just as the ache begins, he feels his cheeks and jaw grow warm and then the soreness is gone.
"Huh, that's weird," Elixir says brightly, "Looks like you washed the water colors off. I'll take that shower now. Or maybe I'll take a nice, long bath where I'll use all the towels afterward. Who knows?" He says, and breezes by Julian, who's still gaping like a fish, face warm (but not because he's being healed, not because of that).
The bathroom door closes with what Julian's sure Elixir must think is a very satisfying click and a moment later, there's the sound of water running, filling the bathtub.
Julian sighs and goes to the refrigerator to find something to eat, summoning his extra pair of gauntlets to his side. He locks his telekinesis into the gloves' finger joints and it's a relief to have something resembling hands again.
He's got a bite of sandwich half-chewed in his mouth when there's a clatter of something falling in the bathroom.
He pauses, swallows and calls out, "You okay?"
There's no answer and Julian lets it go until there's a crash that almost makes Julian choke on the last bit of his sandwich. "Foley," he says in a strangled voice, "What the hell are you doing in there?"
"I'm fine!" Elixir yells thickly, "It's fine,"
Julian goes over to the closed door of the bathroom, "What happened?"
There's no answer.
"Do I have to come in?" Julian says, frowning. "Josh?"
"No," Elixir shouts from the other side of the door, "It's fine, goddammit, just go away, okay? I'm fine –fuck,"
Julian gives it three seconds and opens the door to Elixir's shouts of protests. He's half-expecting to catch Elixir in the act of doing something embarrassing, but he's just sitting in the tub, gold skin reflecting against the water and hair wet and plastered to his head.
The shower curtain is half-torn down and there are several bottles of shampoo (because they each refused to use each other's) scattered across the tiled floor, all sources of the noise from before.
Elixir stares at Julian from the tub, and not for the first time, Julian finds himself wishing that Elixir's eyes weren't so blank because his expression is empty, and Julian doesn't know what to do.
"I said I'm fine," Elixir says gruffly, but then he sniffs like he's trying to hide it and he slides down in the tub like he's trying to disappear into the water.
"Were you crying?" Julian blurts, bewildered. He knows he shouldn't have, because he'd probably punch anyone who asked him the same question.
Elixir laughs, bitter. "No," he says, "I still am. An erection is not the body's ultimate betrayal," he uses the back of his hands to wipe his cheeks.
Julian notices then that there are bruises across Elixir's chest, "You didn't heal?" he frowns, drawing closer without thinking about it.
"No," Elixir says, "I need a reason to tell my boss I'm quitting,"
"Or you could just quit," Julian says. Then he thinks about it, "…You have a boss?"
Elixir draws his legs up to his chest, covering the bruises and wraps his arms around his legs. "I'm not a prostitute," he mumbles.
Julian rambles. "Of course not, why would I believe that guy?"
"…not all the time,"
"Not that I would judge you if you were," Julian adds.
"I work –worked at a mutant bar," Elixir explains, his chin on his knees. He looks small, sitting hunched over like that. He's shorter than Julian normally, of course, but he's always had a presence about him that's never let Julian think of him as –as vulnerable.
"It's a strip bar," Elixir adds. He's lucking up at Julian through white eyelashes like he's expecting some sort of reaction that he's not getting.
"Okay," Julian says slowly. "So it pays well, and you want to quit?"
Elixir shrinks back, "The pay is good. You're right. I shouldn't quit," he says flatly, sniffling.
"Hold on," Julian says, "If you want to quit, you can, I just. I guess I just want to know why,"
"I don't need to quit," Elixir repeats, "It's fine; I'm fine," He shifts and for a second, Julian he can see his chest, where dark spots of bruises are fading.
He's glad to see it, but something tells him not to let it go just like that. He thinks that Laura might actually track him down and murder him if he doesn't act like a mother hen everyone once in a while.
"Foley," Julian says, sighing, "Just fucking tell me why you want to quit. Is it because of what that guy said?"
"What guy," Elixir says. His face twists and with horror, Julian understands what's happening.
Elixir covers his face with his hands, "This is stupid," he moans through an involuntary sob. "Get out."
"Elix"
"-I said get out!" he roars, hands coming away from his face and splashing into the tub.
Julian leans away from the water that splatters toward him but doesn't flinch away. He's thrown enough tantrums at various people to understand that he's meant to be leaving right now, probably in a bad mood.
"Josh," Julian says, because this is Josh, more than it's ever been, and Julian's always thought of him as Elixir (and he's not sure when it started), the Omega healer –a gold-skinned god.
He's just human.
Josh curls in on himself. "I'm tired, Keller," he says, looking away, "Just go away." There are tears rolling down his cheeks and Julian finds himself reaching out and wiping away one stuck halfway down his face.
"Look," Julian says, clearing his throat and pulling his hand away quickly when he's realized what he's done, "Quit the damn job. Stay at home all day if you want or sit on a corner asking for change. Okay? We'll figure it out." He doesn't let his mind linger on the way he called the apartment home –for both of them.
Josh's eyes are impossibly wide and there are tears stuck to his eyelashes. Julian's close enough to discern the gray outline of his irises. "Don't be like this," he says finally, "God, I don't –I don't want your pity,"
"Seriously," Julian says, "Like I'd pity you. There's nothing pathetic about you, never has been. So finish your bath, yeah? And then make yourself something to eat and sleep for a week or something. You can even take the bed. We should get a pull-out couch or something, huh?"
Josh is still watching him, bemused and Julian's already put all these things out there, and he can't take back any of his words. He doesn't think he would want to, not out of regret, anyway, but he's always maintained that it's best to keep some truths inside.
"Would you like me to wash your hair and give you a manicure, as well?" Julian tries for sarcasm, which earns a spark of something familiar and –Christ, normal— in Josh's expression and a shove that sends him tipping over from where he's squatted.
He smirks and gets to his feet, convinced he's smoothed things over for now.
"Get me something to wear," Josh says when Julian's at the door. His voice is nearly back to normal, too; "And make it loose." He mutters something under his breath that sounds a lot like an eternal damnation on leather pants.
"Sure," Julian says, carefully nonchalant.
He enters his bedroom and the air seems stale, even though it's only been four days. He looks around, sees that everything is still cluttered and in the same place he left it, and makes his way to the drawer where he keeps all of his clothes. He finds the biggest t-shirt he has and a pair of checkered pajama pants that he doesn't remember getting.
He leaves it all in the bathroom, where the shower curtain has been replaced and the bottles of shampoos picked up. The shower is running and Julian puts down the toilet seat and puts the clothes on the lid.
He stares at the drawn shower curtain for a moment, remembering Josh's expression when he yelled at him to get out and when he –God, when he cried. Josh Foley wasn't supposed to cry. It wasn't right.
Julian contemplates this until Josh draws back the curtain and stares at Julian. He doesn't look surprised, like maybe he could tell Julian was standing there, but he raises his eyebrows. "Would you like to help me get dressed?" he says sardonically. "Or are you just admiring the view?"
Julian scowls because he wasn't looking, dammit, but the remark makes him glance downward and –nope. Nope, nope, nope, no thanks. Julian turns, maybe a little too quickly, and marches out the door.
Josh is laughing behind him, but there's a hollow edge to it that reminds Julian that things are not back to normal, that what has occurred decrees that all can never return to normal.
It reminds him of how it felt with the X-Men where, mission after mission, everyone strained to pretend what they'd seen and what they'd done in their lives wasn't damning, like if they didn't think about it or didn't talk about it, it couldn't hurt them.
Julian hates it.
He loses his job at Starbucks and at the bowling alley, which leaves Julian his job as a waiter and nothing else. If he doesn't manage to convince his manager to let him take on more shifts and he doesn't get another job soon, it means he and Josh are going to be finding themselves trying to live on little over one hundred bucks a week. Five hundred bucks a month isn't even enough for rent, and Julian could cover it if he adds in the extra money he's got stuffed under his mattress, but that just leaves the next month for them to get behind on the rent. He wonders how much money Josh might have saved up.
The smile he gives the woman at the bank is thin, and she gives him a pursed-lip look that says the loan is most certainly not going to happen, given the fact that Julian and Josh have little way of returning the money.
Her arched eyebrows say trust me, a loan isn't worth the trouble for you and Julian never knew anyone other than Josh (and perhaps, Mr. Beaubier, Julian suddenly recalls) could have such expressive eyebrows.
He goes to the diner right after the bank and can feel Cook-Boss glaring at his back through the kitchen window as the minutes tick by.
Julian is tired and he just wants to sleep; he doesn't want to be back to work –he just got back that morning, Christ's sake –but he needs this job and so he can't miss it.
Big Eye Pete comes in with two men flanking him halfway through Julian's shift of mindless coffee refills and order-taking.
"Welcome to Jemmie's Diner," Julian says flatly when he reaches the table, "My name is Julian and I'll be waiting on you today," he puts a menu in front of each of the men, "Can I start you out with something to drink? Coffee?"
Big Eye Pete looks him over, "Saw the news," he said, "Three men suspected of bein' behind the killing of thirty-five mutants all around California were found dead. You look fine, Hellion."
"My roommate is an Omega-level healer," Julian says, "I can give you time to think over what you'd like to order,"
"My sources say the police found a pretty intruigin' scene," Pete continues, "One dead by strangulation, 'nother from a broken neck –head twisted near right around –and then the last one with a shot to the head, eyes pulled clean out, no fingers used."
Julian offers a tight smile, "Sounds painful,"
Pete regards him with an unreadable expression. "You never killed a man when you were with them X-Men,"
"Is that a question?"
"No,"
"Then it's a true statement," Julian admits, "But that doesn't mean I didn't know how to."
Big Eye Pete nods and orders a coffee, black, and when he departs, he leaves a tip that's more than triple the cost of his drink.
When Julian gets home, Josh is gone and so are all of his things. There's three hundred bucks on the kitchen counter (because they still don't have a table), and a note written on a napkin from some bar that says 'Rent money and dinner in the fridge' and nothing else.
Julian feels an odd sinking feeling in his chest and he just stands there for what feels like hours, staring blankly at the words written on the back of a billing envelope because he doesn't understand; he saw Josh just a couple of hours ago.
He'd been eating a sandwich at the counter, wearing an overlarge, gray 'MAGNETO WAS RIGHT' t-shirt and checkered pajama pants. When Julian left for the bank, he'd shrugged and when Julian told him to take a nap or something, he'd raised his eyebrows in a way expressed his surprise at the sentiment. Then he'd said calmly, "Sleep is for the weak. Besides, if I got to sleep now, I'll never wake up, and then who'll make dinner? You'll poison yourself and I'll have no one to mooch off of."
Julian had flipped him off as he'd made his way out the door, but he'd been unable to fight off the smile that crept onto his face when he heard Josh's cackles echo after him even after the apartment door was closed.
"Shit," Julian says now, and goes to use the landline he has never touched in the three months he's lived in San Francisco. He calls Laura and the call is picked up on the first ring. "He's gone," he says.
"You're an idiot," Laura says. "Go find him,"
"Where?"
"Wherever you think he might –oh." she stops midsentence. "It's alright, Julian," she says after a moment, "He's come back,"
Julian glances toward the apartment door before he realizes what she means. "Oh," he says, and it comes out in a whisper, "Okay,"
"Julian,"
-He hangs up and slides down to sit on the floor. He doesn't pick up the phone when it rings again a moment later.
Julian's got six hundred bucks and a duffel and backpack of all his worldly possessions when he leaves San Francisco, just after a body matching Sanders's description is found out in the wild of California, two hours out of San Francisco.
He goes back to his old town, drops by his old diner and manages to wheedle a free meal of leftovers from Carl, who's surprised to see him.
"You took off, man," Carl says, wiping down the counter of the mostly empty diner. It's late. "Was starting to wonder if you didn't get kidnapped by those psychos, too, because let's get real, man –alien tech? Sure."
Julian just shrugs because it's not completely a false assumption.
"Heard they were killed, though," Carl continues thoughtfully, "Wonder who did it,"
"Huh," Julian focuses on his meal, chewing thoroughly as he purposefully does not look up to meet Carl's eyes. "Well, at least no more mutants are getting murdered,"
"Yeah," Carl says, "You know, I did my research,"
"Oh yeah?"
"You're that Hellion guy, aren't you? The one who's got that green glowy-power thing and can move things without touching 'em?"
Julian sighs. "Yeah, Carl," he says, "I'm the one with the green glowy-power thing," he looks up finally, and is a little taken aback to see the green spreading across Carl's face.
"Aw man," Carl says, "Dude. That's freakin' cool, man. Can I have your autograph or something?"
Julian squints up at him, "Why?" he says.
Carl waves a hand around, "You're an X-Man, dude, a superhero or whatever. Dude, you know Wolverine, don't you?"
"Yes?" Julian frowns.
"And Emma Frost? Dude, she's hot. See, I knew you looked familiar when you got the job here," Carl says smugly, "I was working with an X-Man. So what was it, like, undercover shit?"
Julian continues to squint at Carl because he is too tired to deal with this, thank you very much. "No, Carl," he says tiredly, "I'm not an X-Man anymore,"
He blinks, "What happened?"
"Uh, I quit?"
"Why?" Carl says, dumbfounded, "But you were, like, a superhero,"
"Not really," Julian mutters. "Look, I need a place to stay tonight. Can I crash in the storage room or something?"
Carl shrugs. "Just make sure you're gone before we open again,"
"Sure. Thanks, Carl," Julian pushes his empty plate away and slides off the stool. He can feel himself being watches as he takes his plate into the kitchen, where the staff just sort of glance at him and ignore his presence otherwise as he wanders around.
Julian considers reapplying for a job at the diner, but eventually decides to keep moving on. He flies, for the most part, and when he's tired, hitchhikes with bored truck drivers who're willing to bypass their company policies for someone to talk to or talk at or just to sit with in companionable silence.
Two week later, with three hundred bucks to his name and down a backpack, Julian arrives in Chicago and sits outside of a seedy bar at night with a bunch of other people, some his age and some older, some a little younger.
He shares a cigarette with a girl who can't be more than fifteen and listens as she rants about her parents who are too busy to pay her any attention.
"Mine were the same," Julian offers when she grows quiet, "We were rich, so I guess they figured letting me spend what I wanted would be enough to compensate. I wouldn't have wanted their attention, though. They were assholes,"
"Your parents are rich?" the girl says.
Julian forgets her name. July, was it? Or June? "Yeah," he says, "But I haven't talked to them in… four years, now, I guess."
"Did they kick you out for being a mutant? I heard some parents do that, like they do with gay kids, you know? Parents can be dicks,"
"They didn't kick me out," Julian says. Not exactly, he thinks. "They just kind of… sent me away. I was disinherited later."
"So were they there when… whatever happened to your hands… happened?" June-July says, waving her hand around in the air as she searches for the words.
"No. That was two years ago."
"What happened to them?"
"They fell off."
"Just like that?" June-July says, sounding amused.
"Incinerated."
"Sounds painful."
"It was." Julian says darkly.
"Does it make you made?"
"Not that much anymore," Julian admits.
"Do you ever miss them?"
It take Julian a moment to realize she's not talking about his hands. "There's nothing to miss," he says eventually.
"So what's your deal, then?" June-July wonders, "I mean, I get being poor and handicapped, but, are you hooked on something or whatever?"
"Christ, no," Julian snorts, "Josh would kill me if" –he stops and frowns. He hadn't meant to say that, and he doesn't know where it came from.
"So this Josh guy…" June-July says casually. She stubs out her cigarette and takes another out of her pack. "What's he to you?"
"Old roommate," Julian says, shrugging. "He was a… health nut, I guess."
June-July hms and lights the cigarette, handing it over to Julian for the first draw.
He shakes his head and June-July checks her watch, "I'd better get home," she sighs. "I've got homework to do,"
Julian snorts again. "Have fun,"
"See you never," she says, hopping off the railing they've been sitting on and picking up her backpack off the ground. She leans in and pecks him on the cheek, shrugging and saying, "Might as well," when he startles.
"Stay out of trouble, June," he calls after her just as it begins to drizzle,
"It's April," she shouts back, "And only if you do,"
He feels himself grinning a little as he watches her retreat down the street.
A second girl takes April's place. She's older, bone-thin with dark eye make-up and straggly, bleach-blonde hair. "Wanna go fuck?" she wonders glumly.
Julian gives her a sideways look and after a moment she skulks away.
The back door of the bar opens and a stout man with a balding head but a lot of chest hair poking out of his suit top shoos everyone off the property.
"Hey, you," he calls, "You with the hands,"
Julian turns.
"You're good enough looking," the guy says, "You know how to pour?"
"I've been a waiter," Julian offers.
"You need a job?"
He nods.
"Come with me," the guy says, "Name's Ivan. I can get you a job here, no questions asked if you don't ask question neither."
Julian figures he must mean it because he isn't asked his name or even his age as he's led into the bar.
It's dimly lit inside and smells like smoke and alcohol. Music pulses through the room and Ivan takes Julian past the dance floor and behind the bar, "You're a mutant, right?"
Julian nods.
"Alright, they'll eat you up then. How's your body?"
"I thought I was waiting tables or something," Julian says.
"We have to get you a uniform," Ivan says, "So I'm askin', how's the body?"
"I've been told I'm a little on the skinny side lately," Julian admits, "I'll… work out or something, if I need to."
Ivan shrugs. "You're in luck, kid, you know that? Trent just quit this morning and we've got an open shift you can take and hey, if you want to make a little bit more money on the side"
"-I'll just do the tables," Julian interrupts, eyes narrowing, "But thanks for the offer."
Ivan doesn't look discouraged though, and he leers at Julian like he knows something Julian doesn't. "If you change your mind, just let me know." he says, "You can start tonight, yeah? Ask Ali about the pay,"
By then they've reached a back hall with a couple of doors that appear to belong to dressing rooms and the manager (Ivan?)'s office. Instead of going to any of these doors, Ivan continues on to a door that is labeled 'STAIRS' and pushes it open.
The stairwell is dark, but Ivan walks up the stairs like he knows where he's going, and they arrive at a surprisingly secure looking door on the second landing.
There's a camera in a corner above the door that Julian nearly misses, but then it emits a small, blue blinking light and the metal door to the second floor slides open to reveal a well-lit hall.
The second floor of the building is definitely high-end, and the first floor is clearly the grimy front of the whole establishment, because Ivan leads Julian into a well-furnished studio flat that is packed with well-dressed people, some of them noticeably mutant.
There are gold floor-to-ceiling poles through the room where young men and woman are –are doing things.
Julian thinks absently that Miss Frost would really enjoy a strip bar like this, even if she might have something to say about its gold and white color scheme, and he hastily follows Ivan behind the bar to another hall. This time they do go into a dressing room and Ivan says, "Spare uniforms are in the dresser, find one that fits. Ali is the one at the bar right now, she'll tell you what to do."
"Just like that?" Julian wonders.
Ivan grins wickedly, "Welcome to Isis. Hellion, isn't it?"
Julian freezes. "It was," he says slowly. He narrows his eyes, "Consider me retired, though,"
"It's good publicity all the same," Ivan says, "For when…" he trails off, looking thoughtful, "Well, what are you waitin' for? You're starting tonight, aren't you?"
Julian shrugs. "Yeah," he says, "I guess I am." He's got other problems, of course; he doesn't have a place to sleep yet and he doesn't have any plans for the future. He doesn't even know if he'd been planning on staying in the city, but he's got a job now, and it looks like he might be, after all.
When Ivan leaves the room, Julian shrugs out of his jacket and drops his duffel on the floor.
He doesn't even blink when he finds that the 'uniform' is basically just a pair of tight pants and a waistcoat, but when he puts it all on and stares at himself in the full length mirror in the room, he thinks that Josh was right; he's lost too much weight. Muscle mass has disappeared and he's –he's slender now, more like he was when he was sixteen, but it's not an entirely healthy look. He's got bags under his eyes and his cheekbones are just beginning to stick out to give him that hollow, emaciated look. His hair has grown out and sticks out at strange angles and for the life of him, Julian doesn't understand why Ivan picked him up off the street, other than for the fact he recognized him as a former X-Man.
It's ridiculous. He wasn't even an X-Man for that long –just two years. He's going to be twenty soon (really soon, he realizes, and he wonders if there's anyone who remembers and then he recognizes that it doesn't matter; he's alone) and he feels sofucking old and it's not fair because he's barely an adult and where the hell did his innocence run off to without his permission? He's sure he wasn't always such a killjoy, but now his mind's constant stream of cynicism is just tiring and sad.
Julian sighs and runs a gauntlet through his hair, then tries to force a smile onto his face. It looks more like a grimace, and he turns away. "Right, Keller," he says to himself, feeling like an idiot for talking aloud to an empty room, "Pull yourself the fuck together. You've got a life to struggle through." He laughs, then, and the bitterness he hears in his own voice is, unfortunately, a familiar sound.