Part Ten

A/N: Damn, is this late? I can't work it out, I thought I was putting up the next chapter today. And I meant to do this first thing this morning. Oh well!

Bobby seemed to be developing a list of people he absolutely had to talk to urgently. Warren was very high on that list. Jean Paul was pretty high, because Bobby wasn't sure how much longer he could go without finding out why he'd left that evening and what kind of state things were in between them. He probably ought to talk to Annie, too, but there was someone he could go to first.

"Do you sleep, Hank?" Bobby grinned.

"Indubitably," Hank grinned back.

"I'll never understand this early morning habit of yours," said Bobby shaking his head.

"I do my best work in the ante meridian," Hank informed him.

Bobby watched him quietly for a little while. They both knew what he wanted to discuss, but he wasn't willing to without prompting. What he'd said the other night… He'd told them before he'd managed to admit it to himself, and he'd spent all yesterday trying to get his head around it. And he really had to talk to Warren now, but he really didn't feel up to it, so he was hiding in Hank's lab and waiting to be challenged for it.

Hank, however, surprised him.

"I… I have some news for you," his older friend said hesitantly.

This didn't sound that good.

"I've been studying the samples you gave me," Hank went on, staring intently, and unnecessarily, into a test tube. "There's a very high concentration of antibodies and white blood cells."

"I'm fighting the secondary mutation," Bobby guessed correctly.

"Yes."

"I thought we already knew that?" Bobby asked cautiously. "I mean, from the itching."

"Yes, we did." Hank sighed and put the test tube away. He managed to bring himself to look at Bobby. "You see, my friend, I… I have come to the conclusion that this implies your… ice… is not, in fact… a secondary mutation."

They sat in silence and considered the implications of this.

"What are the implications of this?" Bobby said eventually, not liking any of the conclusions he had reached.

Hank smiled warmly at him. "It means, Bobby, that we may well be able to cure you."

"Cure me?" Bobby stared at him. "Seriously?"

"I'll need to take some more samples. If I can work out what antibodies are fighting this the most effectively then I may be able to simulate them in the lab, and boost your immune system thus. I'll also need to take some more samples from the ice. If we can establish the cause-"

"It started after the fight with Black Tom," Bobby said eagerly. "Do you really think we can cure this? It would be the best birthday present ever."

Hank sighed heavily. "Bobby, you must not get your hopes up too far."

Bobby calmed down immediately. "If it's not a secondary mutation it can kill me, can't it?" he said, abruptly bitter.

Hank reached out one comforting paw, but Bobby ignored it. "It's getting larger," he went on. "That means I'm losing. I…" He drew one long shaky breath. "Puts a lot in perspective," he said quietly. "Like the whole Jean Paul thing."

"Yes, I imagine it does," Hank said softly. "But you must keep the negative side as much in perspective as the positive. I will find some way to cure you, Bobby." His voice was rough with emotion, and Bobby was torn away from his self-pity to empathise with Hank for a moment. "I'm not letting you go, Bobby," Hank went on, voice low and pained. "I will cure you."

Bobby stared at him for a moment. "I know you will," he choked. "There's no one who's hands I'd rather put my life in."

Hank smiled at him. "Working together, we can beat this. Can you put up with giving a few more samples? If we establish what's behind the ice there may even be a conventional cure. The ice may in fact be another of your body's defence mechanisms."

"You think perhaps it's poison, or something?" Bobby asked softly. "And my body chose to isolate it this way?"

"Possibly, though it wouldn't explain why the ice is growing," Hank admitted.

"I've been having stomach cramps and some problems breathing, recently," Bobby admitted reluctantly. "Do you suppose my organs are beginning to change to ice?"

Hank looked horrified. "Possibly," he swallowed, "though… though it may simply be the ice is pressing against them. We will need to take a full body scan."

"Can you do that here?" Bobby asked, staring around the lab.

"Yes, though it will take me a few days to recalibrate the equipment for your particular problem." Hank was still trying to hide his upset at this new development. "You might want to spend more time in ice form, just to be safe. Especially if you start finding it hard to breath. I know you don't always take me advice, Bobby, but you better take this." Hank stood over him. "Bobby, please."

Bobby nodded. "Don't worry, Hank, I'm not going to let myself die just out of stubbornness."

"Good," Hank said firmly. "Now, until I get the equipment sorted out, I'd like to take a few more blood samples, to check for change."

Bobby pulled off his shirt. "So, steal my blood, you vampire," he grinned.

"Vampire? I am more Doctor Frankenstein and Count Dracula," Hank pointed out. As he checked the needle, he added, "So, Jean Paul?"

Bobby laughed nervously. "Knew we'd get to that eventually."

"I hypothesised that there was an ulterior motive there, did I not?"

"Ow! Yes, you did," Bobby said ruefully, pressing the cotton pad Hank gave him to the blood welling up from his chest. "I didn't know it then, though."

Hank regarded him. "You didn't know?"

"Well…" Bobby shifted uncomfortably. "It's still all a bit confusing right now. The threat of imminent death seems to be clearing it up a bit," he added softly. "And the alcohol."

"Don't feel pressured into doing anything you wouldn't otherwise," Hank told him. "You're not going to die."

"If it wasn't for the ice, I'm not sure I'd even have pursued the friendship," Bobby admitted. "I thought I was going to end up permanently single, and, well, I guess I knew at a kind of subconscious level that I liked him because otherwise I'd be attached Jubilee or someone right now. It's not really something to base a friendship on, is it?"

"I think the attraction is mutual," Hank told him warmly. "And that is something to base a relationship on."

Bobby squirmed happily. "You think?"

"I have been speaking to Annie," Hank told him, grinning.

"I'm not really au fait with this whole, male-male thing," Bobby sighed. "I can't get my head around it. I keep finding it so hard to sleep. I thought I was over all this," he exclaimed. "I feel sixteen again."

Hank cocked his head to one side. "This is something to do with Warren, isn't it?"

Bobby groaned. "Don't ask any more about that, please, Hank. I made a promise to Warren and I broke it. That's why he flipped. I don't want to make it any worse."

"I'm not going to reveal that you said anything," Hank said quietly.

"I know," Bobby said, anguished. "But it's a principal thing. I've never made a promise like that to any one else. I can't believe I even brought it up before. No matter how drunk I was, it's inexcusable."

"You haven't spoken to him yet," Hank stated.

"I'm going to," Bobby told him. "There's so many things I have to get done. I can't get my head around half of it."

"It is all happening at once," Hank agreed. "Don't rush yourself, Bobby. That is all the advice I can give you."

"It's good advice. So, what precisely did Annie say to you?"

Hank chuckled. "I think you should talk to Jean Paul yourself."

"I don't think I'm up to that just yet. I've… I've been treating it all as a joke so far. Every time it gets tense between us and there's electricity, I make a joke out of it." He stared into the distance. "I want it so badly," he murmured. "He had his arm around me and I wanted the car to be miles away. I kissed him, god, I kissed him and I pretended it was all part of an on-running joke about the couples in the movie theatre. I'm so… I'm scared. Fuck. Why me? Why do I have to deal with all this? But…" Bobby shook his head. "Can't I just fall for Jubilee instead?" he said plaintively.

Hank wrapped an arm around him briefly before returning to his work with Bobby's blood. "This is who you are," Hank told him. "I know you'll work it out with yourself, and I am certain you'll work it out with him."

Bobby chuckled. "I wish I had your confidence in me," he admitted. "But… It's good having you here. I need someone to talk to about this. Or babble incoherently to about this, anyway. I tried talking to myself," he added with a grin. "I'm a terrible listener."

Hank laughed. "Indubitably," he said wickedly.

It was over an hour before Bobby could bring himself to seek out Warren. He was down by the lake, skimming stones. Bobby stuck his hands in his pockets and wandered towards him, taking a winding path. By the time he reached Warren's side Warren had stopped skimming stones and was watching him.

"Tell me you were drunk," Warren said before Bobby could open his mouth.

"You know I was."

"Tell me you didn't mean any of what you said about Jean Paul."

"Hank says it's not a secondary mutation. I might be about to drop dead at any second."

Warren stared at him. He paled. Bobby walked up to him slowly.

"I'm not taking back what I said about Jean Paul," Bobby said haltingly.

"You're desperate," Warren stuttered. "You're not dying, are you?"

Bobby took a deep breath. "Not really, I suppose. I might die. I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"It's not a secondary mutation," Bobby said weakly. He spread his hands. "It means it's almost certainly reversible, but it also means it's possibly malicious and since the ice is getting larger I'm obviously losing against it and we don't know how long I've got or what it will do."

Warren ran a hand across his eyes. "Hank'll cure you," he said eventually.

"Of course he will," Bobby agreed.

"So you can actually answer my question."

"About Jean Paul?"

"Yes, about Jean Paul."

Bobby stared across the lake. There was still some early morning mist curling across it. It was beautiful, he realised. He might not see it again. He'd seen it a few times before, but he'd never thought of it as beautiful. But when it might be the last time he saw it… Suddenly everything was beautiful.

"I told you, I'm not taking it back," Bobby said quietly, wrapping his arms around himself. He was wearing the jacket Jean Paul had given him again. He dug in the pocket for the motorbike keys. Warren had probably paid for the majority of the bike.

"Bobby, you were very drunk," Warren said, slightly pleadingly.

"I'm not now," Bobby pointed out. "Look, I know this isn't about him."

"I don't like him."

"I know that," Bobby told him. "But this isn't about him."

Warren ran his hand through his blond hair and stared at Bobby. "You were drunk, I know."

"I shouldn't have brought it up regardless," Bobby said. "It's been ten years. If I can not talk about it for three thousand six hundred and whatever days, then I should have been able to keep my mouth shut one more night."

Warren clenched his fists. "I'm giving you a way out here, Bobby. Take it. For God's sake, take it."

"I wouldn't have said it sober," Bobby admitted, "but I shouldn't have said it drunk."

Warren stepped up to Bobby. "You swore you'd never bring it up, even when we were alone," he said coldly.

"I know."

"And you brought it up."

"I know," Bobby repeated, rather more tersely.

"After I suggested that you weren't gay."

Bobby frowned. "Well, yes, and I agreed with you."

"Bobby…" Warren stared out across the lake. "I think you're projecting any… feelings you might have for, well, me, on to Jean Paul, who is more likely to return them."

Bobby's jaw dropped.

"I don't want you to see him any more. It's not healthy."

Bobby's head snapped round. "What right to you have to say that to me?" he gaped.

"I'm your friend," Warren said firmly. "I have your best interests at heart."

"But you don't trust me!" Bobby gaped. "Friend? Doesn't sound like it!"

"Bobby, you're lonely, you're scared, you've just had a painful shock from Lorna's return…" Angel's voice cracked under the strain and gained a few decibels.

"You're in denial," Bobby snarled back, voice considerably raised as well.

"You don't like men!" Warren shouted. "You're one of my best friends. This is… you're messed up!"

Bobby turned away and began to walk quickly. "I don't want to hear this, Warren," he yelled over his shoulder. "I can't hear this from you."

"Bobby!" Warren swept back his powerful wings and in a few short strokes he was in front of Bobby again. "I don't want you to do this. I know what's going on in your head, and if you're trying to make me jealous it won't work! I'm with Paige, and I'm happy with Paige."

Bobby stared at him. "Paige? What the fuck has Paige got to do with this?"

"I know you have feelings for me!"

"Yes, hatred!" Bobby shoved him away. "Horror. Shock and disgust."

"You've never got over it," Warren insisted, still chasing him.

"I did," Bobby shouted. "I did! And I like men. Not just you, Warren, but men, in general." He was panting heavily and his eyes were wider than they ever should have been. "I… I'm attracted to men," he gasped. "It wasn't a one off. It wasn't just being a scared teenager. And I did it with Gambit, too. And I want to do it with Jean Paul."

Warren stared at him blankly. "You can't be. You… you fucking liar!" he snapped suddenly. "You've been lying to all of us for fucking years!"

"Lying? I wanted to talk to you!" Bobby spluttered. "I've spent years lying to myself because of you."

"I don't want to hear it!" Warren began to beat his powerful wings, preparing to take off. "I don't want to talk to you. I don't want to be a part of this any more!"

"So you're flying away? Coward!" Bobby shrieked at him. "Talk to me, Warren, fucking talk to me!"

"Stop making me part of this. Get over it, it was ten years ago!" And he was gone before Bobby could scream one final reply to that.