Chapter 10-
"Dude, have you see Laura?" Julian asks Santo. His friend looks up at him with his pupiless eyes, and he suddenly realizes how tired and drawn he looks. Not that anyone
else could tell—Santo's made of pure rock, with a thousand crags, and sandy-smooth areas, from being rebuilt over and over.
He suddenly feels bad. He hasn't been spending much time with Cess and Santo lately. He's been so self absorbed, he hasn't even bothered to have a proper conversation
with either of the two, and he realizes that he's been a bad friend.
To Santo especially. Santo, who lives for his friends, would die for them—if he could. Who doesn't have many friends left.
"X is over there," Santo says dully, pointing.
"Thanks," Julian says. He grins. "Guess what."
"What?" Santo asks, his voice flat.
"I banged her."
"That's old news," Santo says, boredly.
"I mean X. I'm not with Sof anymore."
He sees the light of gossip spark in Santo's eyes. "WHAT?" he bursts, in his foghorn voice. People look over, curious.
"Keep it down, man. I don't want the whole camp to know…yet. Well, they can know…but…you know. I don't wanna rub it in." Julian says, wincing.
"Under what circumstance in hell could you get X to agree to that, Keller?" Santo asks, incredulous. "Did you convince her that it was her mission or somethin'?"
"Nope." Julian crouches beside Santo. "It's a long story. I found out there was a whole lot more to her than I thought."
"Oh really?" Santo asks. "So what'd you think she was before?"
"I dunno." Julian pauses. "I guess I always thought of her as an animal. A mechanical animal, you know..."
"At least part-robot," Santo agrees. "So is it everything I predicted? She a cold fish?" He's referring to their teenaged discussions.
"Hardly." Julian hesitates. "First time, I was a little nervous…it was like I tapped into some unstoppable force. She had this look in her eye…"
"Heh," Santo says. He pauses.
"So…Sofia is single now, huh?"
"Fuck you, Santo."
"You'd like that."
"Totally. I don't know what'd hurt more, bottoming or topping for you."
"Bottoming, Keller. Definitely bottoming. Don 't think you'd recover."
"You sick freak," Julian says affectionately, getting to his feet. "Catch you later."
He heads towards Laura, who is sitting by an old lamppost with a shattered bulb inside its shade. She is eating from a tin of canned food, her eyes on the city horizon, her
soot-smudged cheeks bulging slightly.
"Pears," Julian says, reading the label. "The hell'd you get pears?"
Laura turns her head slightly. "From the last raid."
"You could just about take command of this group for that can," Julian says, half-joking. "I don't think it'd even have to be full."
"Possibly." Laura thinks, then stabs her spork into the tin and offers him a slice of pear with a questioning look. He hesitates. He hasn't eaten pears in about five years; would it be
better not to remind himself of good food?
Hunger wins.
"You should ingest more Vitamin C," Laura says, watching him eat as he kneels beside her. "You might get scurvy if you do not pay more attention to your diet."
"Or, you know, a Sapiens bastard might shoot me first," he says pleasantly. "It's a toss-up."
"The probability of either is almost equal," Laura says softly.
He leans on the lamp post. "Maybe we can grow our own food…if we can settle this group down long enough, in one spot. Can you imagine having fresh foods?"
"Yes." Laura stares into the distance, down the cracked and destroyed street.
"I'd kill for a pizza," Julian says dreamily.
"That is not fresh food," Laura says. "That is empty carbohydrates. It will provide no nutrition whatsoever for your body. What energy it provides will promptly be turned into fat, which
will collect around your—"
He takes her hand and presses it against his stomach. "Feel that? Hard as a rock. Harder than Rockslide. I could handle some pizza."
"…" Laura leaves her hand on his stomach, staring at her fingers against the faded fabric of his t-shirt. Her lips part slightly, and she looks uncertain again, perhaps at the realization that
she is touching him and he is neither repulsed nor hesitant, but the instigator.
He leans over, sensing this. "I'm sorry about…well…being a jerk for thirteen years," he says, then kisses her lightly.
Laura doesn't respond to this.
"Only took the end of the world for me catch on, huh?"
"Yes," Laura says.
He rubs her back lightly, then pats it. "Since you're so keen on me sleeping, let's get set up now and not dick around and waste time."
Laura looks at him. "You are not planning to sleep," she says, arcing her eyebrows. "You are intending to—"
"Yeah."
"What if I do not want to participate?"
Julian stops. "Then I'd give my hand a work-out, wouldn't I?"
Laura studies him.
"I'm pretty sure you want in, though," he says, taking a lock of her hair between his fingers. "Picking up several things here."
"Such as?" Laura asks.
"Your lips are pinker," he says, still playing with her hair. "Your pupils are totally bigger. What's the word? Dilated. And you're tilting your head…like you always do when you look at
me. Checking me out. Beat that, X."
Laura pauses.
"You are releasing more oxytocin. Your androstenol production has increased by approximately twenty-five percent. Your pulse has risen from sixty-five beats per minute to
seventy-three bpm to accommodate for your—"
"You're cheating," he accuses.
"I am not 'cheating'. The information is available to anyone."
"You mean, only yourself."
"I am the only one capable of processing it, yes," Laura agrees, and he realizes she is smiling slightly. He is surprised to find that she does know how to flirt, but in her own
way. A thought occurs to him—memories of similar conversations with Laura in the past, in which he had thought she was just being weird and obnoxious about her powers—
when in reality she had been trying to gain his attention. She has been trying to impress him.
He thinks it's kind of cute. He twirls her hair around his finger, his hand, and then he's kissing her again, more fulfilling. He loses his balance and almost causes them to fall over;
catching himself in time, he makes a noise of amusement, then pulls away.
"Mmm. Come on, I can't wait much longer."
Laura studies him. "You can wait. Nothing negative will occur if you do not—"
"Yeah, but I don't want to," he says. "C'mon, missy—get up." He pulls her to her feet and they walk away, bickering about biology (Laura insisting he can survive entirely without
sex; Julian pointing out that it wouldn't be good for his mental health, and Laura countering with some old psychology theory about promotion of 'mental alertness').
A bush behind them moves slightly, ever so slightly, in the breeze.
Julian takes his time deciding on a spot to sleep, wandering further and further away from the group. He finally picks an old clothing store display, which is carpeted, and has a
few unlooted garments and mannequins all around, positioned on a small carpeted staircase . By the time they finally lay their blankets down, he feels like he has earned
whatever is going to occur, and he begins to plan it out. He gets creative and incorporates the staircase.
…
He yawns and opens his eyes slowly to look at the gray sky, over which dawn is breaking. He has woken up alone; Laura is already out and about, presumably at the
camp. He feels cheated, but he knows she starts her day early.
Sitting up slowly, he winces. His back hurts like crazy. He knows he can't complain, or Laura might pick up on this and decide that their activities are detrimental to his health
or something. That's the last thing he needs; it's the only thing giving him the ability to cope at the moment.
…
Four hundred hours. Laura's eyes snap open and she inhales sharply. She is programmed to wake up at this time, no matter what has occurred. It is facility conditioning. She turns her head
slightly. Beside her, Julian sleeps soundly. His fingers flex every so often, and a green thread of energy twirls in the air nearby. He is dreaming about something, but it's obviously pleasant,
because he is smiling slightly.
Laura lowers her eyes, then sits up, moving his arm off of her waist. There are matters to attend to. She must patrol; she must make certain they have not been followed. She must complete the mission.
She picks up her clothes, pulls on her bra, underwear, pants. Laces up her too-big combat boots. She is tempted to walk barefoot, but knows her feet would pick up too much sharp
rubbish—and the skin would heal over it. It would be unpleasant to pick apart later.
Stepping outside through the broken glass of the window, she finds that the air is curiously still. Laura tilts her head, looking down the street as she pulls on her t-shirt. She sniffs. She cannot
smell anything, but she is certain someone is there, watching her. It's a gut instinct.
"Show yourself." Laura commands, making a fist and popping two claws. She will exterminate this threat.
Nothing shows itself. Laura searches the street but cannot find anything.
The feeling remains throughout the day; and finally at noon she comprehends who it is.
…
"Laura."
She looks up at her name. It's Sofia. She stiffens ever so slightly. Never, in thirteen years, did she ever dare show signs of dislike or mistrust for this woman—except for once, when she'd approached
Julian about a possible betrayal—but now, she feels on edge. Perhaps because she now has something at stake, something fragile, that she is very uncertain of.
She feels like she must defend it, somehow, but she's not sure what's required of her to do so.
Sofia is smiling at her, but the smile does not reach her eyes. "How are you?"
"I am operating at one hundred percent efficiency," Laura says warily. Both a reply and a warning: do not attempt to attack me.
Sofia is not so obvious. "I am glad to hear that. But you know what?"
"What?" Laura asks.
"I am not so well," Sofia says. She folds her arms. "Someone has been dishonest with me. I have been, how do you say it? Stabbed in the back, by my own friend."
"You are not bleeding."
Sofia wrinkles her nose. "Metaphorically, Laura. I am referring to your betrayal of our friendship, with your actions."
"We are colleagues, not friends," Laura points out, always one for technical correctness. Sofia has never treated her as a friend—and after thirteen years of humanity, and Cessily's
company—she is aware of the definition of the term.
Sofia gives her a cold look. "The insult continues."
Silence. Laura reaches over and flips the lid open on her thermos.
"Laura, you stole from me," Sofia says.
"I have not taken anything from you."
"You stole my partner."
"I did not 'steal' Julian, he came to me of his own accord," Laura says calmly, taking a sip of her soup-like drink. There is a bouillon cube in the water, adding some substance. It is all Laura has
managed to find for this morning's breakfast.
"Julian would never be interested in you, Laura," Sofia says, her face suddenly neutral again. "He has told me…he hates you. You cause him discomfort with your presence with the odd things
you do. He said you are mechanical, like a robot. If he is feigning interest…it is only out of desire for your body. He'll soon come to his senses again, once he's satisfied his needs and used you
like a machine." She pauses. "I would not put too much store in what he says. Julian can be…persuasive. He will tell you what you want to hear, in order to get what he wants. I am telling you
this as your friend, Laura. Despite what you think, I have always counted you a friend, and that is why I am so surprised and hurt by this exchange. But I know it will pass…and friendship is
much too great a thing to ruin over a petty dispute."
"That is wise of you," Laura comments, watching the steam rise from her mug.
Sofia pauses for a moment.
"Think about what I have said," she says, then turns and walks towards Nori's little circle. Laura watches this for a moment, then she turns her head, and sees Julian heading
towards her, limping and frowning.
"Laura? What did she want?" he asks.
"Nothing." Laura sips from the thermos, then notes that Julian is not holding anything, and that he has probably just woken up. She stands up and holds it out towards him with a concerned expression.
"No, no, I'll find something. My fault for sleeping in."
"Eat. You are too thin."
"No I'm not."
"I can count your ribs through your skin. They are clearly defined."
"Look, everyone's a little thin right now, if you haven't noticed," he says.
"I have taken note. Eat."
Julian hesitates, then decides one pretend-gulp will appease her, if he makes it look big (which he does). Surprisingly, Laura calls him out on his swallowing air, and forces him to take a few
real ones. Apparently she can tell by the noise when he is faking it.
"Thanks," he says, kissing her cheek and handing the thermos back.
"Are you certain that it was enough?"
"Yes, I'm sure. You need to eat too. Keep up your strength…" he pauses. "Boinking you is about the only good thing I have going for me right now, so you're going to need all the energy you can get."
Laura gazes at him, and despite herself, words run through her mind.
If he is feigning interest…it is only out of desire for your body. He'll soon come to his senses again, once he's satisfied his needs.
She considers it, then decides this is a matter that she should council with Cessily, who has provided such explanations to her for the past thirteen years. The girl is almost a substitute for
her mother and creator, Dr. Sarah Kinney—but not quite. There is no maternal bond; the closest term that Laura knows of that describes their friendship is 'sisterhood'.
She'd looked it up in the dictionary after Cessily had told her—several times—that they were like sisters.
Julian strokes her cheek. "I can't wait till we reach the new base and get started on settling down. Just not walking all the damn time will do wonders."
"Yes," Laura agrees. "I am hopeful that the discussion regarding this safehouse's defense is true. I have heard that it was designed by Forge himself, in the event of an emergency…and
utilized, for a time, by the Morlocks—after they were forced to move."
"That sounds fantastic," Julian says. The Morlocks have become legend amongst the survivors, reemerging during the latter part of the war—before the re-engineered airborne Legacy virus
was unleashed—and proudly taking their place amongst Summers' Battalion. They had died with honor for the mutant community in the war waged between Sapiens and Superior—in which
most of downtown New York had been destroyed.
Magneto's resurfacing and last stand had destroyed the rest of the East coast.
In retaliation, the Plague (as it had been named) was released.
This was the hardest blow yet for the mutants. It was engineered to target anyone with an X-gene, dormant or active. Millions had died, including those depowered on M-day. The 198 survivors
had been further scrambled, until only the five that Julian had known of remained; all immune to the plague, the last-minute recipients of Dr. McCoy's vaccine.
Thankfully he had reached a handful of others, including himself, through a time-jump assisted by Surge and Josh (accompanied by X-force).
"Yes," Laura says again. She lids her canteen. "It will also be favorable to have proper sleeping quarters, and a steadier diet, for the refugees. Many are showing signs of exhaustion, and will not
be able to walk much further. It is not the activity that is causing the harm, but the depravation of vital needs."
"Mmm." Julian looks tired for a moment. "Would be awesome to get a bit more privacy, too. Like last night…that was great."
"You dislodged a bone fragment in your lower vertebrae. That was not wise."
"My back is fine."
"No, it is not."
"I don't care."
"You should. If we are engaged in combat—"
"My powers don't depend on whether my back hurts or not," Julian says. "Besides, I'm used to the pain. I can handle it. It's a small price to pay for what I got in return." He smiles at her, his eyes squinting.
"You will need to secure a better bedding material once we have reached the base," Laura says. "Something firm and moldable. You cannot keep reinjuring the site…it will impact your health,
if you waste nutrients on rebuilding bone."
"I figured you'd take care of that for us," he says.
Laura pauses.
"'Us'?"
Julian pauses, suddenly realizing he hasn't asked her, he's only assumed. "Uh, yeah…I thought, well I pretty much got the vibe that you were on board with everything, right?"
Laura looks hesitant. "I do not know. This is…sudden."
"What's so sudden about it?" Julian asks, a little frustrated because she is making him feel stupid for not considering a detail such as her consent. "It's not like we haven't lived in the same room for thirteen years."
"That is different."
"How?"
"We did not share bedding. I have morning routines. I have never shared a place of sleep with another for more than two consecutive nights."
"It'd be more efficient," Julian points out, knowing exactly the kind of logic that Laura finds appealing.
She pauses. "Yes, but—"
"I can't believe we're having this discussion," he says, slightly amused. "You're telling me, after hounding after me for more than a decade, that you need some space—and that you think we're moving too fast?"
"No." Laura pauses. "I do not want to disturb you with my habits."
"They don't disturb me," Julian says softly, fingering a lock of her hair. "I'm used to them. The only thing I'm not used to is the fun stuff…and that's a plus."
Laura hesitates. "I…dream, at times. The dreams are unpleasant, and I am afraid of damaging you."
"That's a risk I'm willing to take."
"I do not want to put you in a situation of unnecessary risk."
"It's necessary, Laura," he says, his voice suddenly urgent.
She pauses. Thinks. Weighs consequences. "Okay."
"Really?" he asks.
"Yes." Laura looks decided. "You must be prepared to defend yourself from me, if I were to unconsciously attack you."
"I will." He pulls her close and presses his face against her neck. "Love you."
It feels good to say it. Right. Like he's releasing something that has built up inside him.
Laura hesitates.
"I love you too," she says.
He grins against her skin, and she feels his heart beating quicker, by three beats per minute. "You said 'thanks' last time."
"Yes." Laura pauses. "I was uncertain of an appropriate response. I have asked Cessily to explain such matters to me, and now I have a better understanding."
It suddenly occurs to Julian that this is because no one has ever loved Laura, ever, except, perhaps, her mother. All of them, including himself—especially himself—had pushed her away, as if she was
unworthy of even the love he gave to his friends.
He says nothing as a response but holds her slightly tighter, an extra squeeze.
"Walk with me today," he says instead.
"Nori requires me to—"
"Fuck Nori. I want to talk to you more."
"About?"
"Everything," he says. "I've known you for a long time…and I know you…but I don't know you…you know?" He feels stupid.
"We have shared some intimate details," Laura says, surprisingly understanding what he has just said, even though it was almost unintelligible even to himself.
"Yeah—but that's different. I want to find out what your favorite color is…and what you liked to eat…stupid shit like that, you know?"
Laura pauses.
"It would keep me busy," he points out. Busy so he won't think about losing the Messiah, he means. He has kept himself Busy in the past few days, and so far, it has been working.
He just needs to keep it up.
And he really does want to know more. Laura's interesting, now that he's not putting walls between them. He's always respected her logic, her opinions—when given—but he didn't care for
her personality, when he had only assumed she didn't have one. He'd thought her completely inhuman, but now he knows otherwise; this is a solid, constant knowledge. There is the fact that
she is more like him in her heart than he had believed before: she would die for her friends, and for him, if she had to—and if she could.
"Okay." Laura agrees.