Chapter Two - Gridlocked
She hurt. She hurt right down to the core of her bones. And she was cold. And tired; so tired she felt like she could drop right there.
But at the same time, she knew she couldn't – mustn't. Not safe.
She'd been running all night and all day, fleeing from shifting shadows and figments of her own addled mind, as well as truer monsters that laughed and jibed. Her ribs ached. There was a scabbed wound on her head where a pack of thugs had mistaken her for a stray cat and thrown rocks. The vestiges of a smile ghosted over her features, as they once again ran screaming through her memories. She'd taught them their mistake – and also been the subject of a laughed-at phone-call to the police, though she didn't know it.
The light hurt her eyes, so she instinctively shunned it, shrinking into gloom wherever she found enough to shield her.
So many people. She'd forgotten how many people lived in the sun. They teemed and chugged and swelled in their buildings of steel and glass. She cowered at the sheer number of them when the sun first peeked over the horizon and they awoke from their beds, spurting forth into the empty streets like fizz from an opened bottle.
She was a night creature, and whenever she'd ventured out in the past it had been empty and dark – a husk of a place. She'd long since stopped thinking about those people tucked into beds as living, breathing things. She'd spirited past their windows, the moon and streetlamps as her guide, thinking that was their way, and this was what their world was like.
The sun had proved her wrong, calling forth its children into the light as it had once done her.
So long ago.
A child of the sun? Her?
Her fear had been removed quickly, swallowed by a fracture as she adapted to hiding in this strange place. Sometimes landmarks were familiar, but her mind was splintered and memories of them slipped away like silk, hard to catch and even harder to pin down. Bad feeling clung to those half-remembered dreams, and she snarled at them before moving on again. No place to stop. No place to stay. Not safe.
Not safe.
Shelter. That was what she needed. Someplace to hide. Sanctuary. But this world was so big – fathomless. And so open. Always there were people – people who would find her. They walked and spoke and peered around like newborn chicks, forever watching. She skinned her teeth at them, but they never saw, and she never let them see.
Run. Keep running. Not safe. Not safe.
Then she found it. Small, narrow, but oh so dark and quiet. No whiff of others here, and the comforting odour of garbage and rot filled her nostrils when she scented the air. Familiar, yet not.
Enough.
She crouched among the waste of this upper order, nestling in their filth. Finally she could stop running. Not truly safe, but enough for the moment. Her muscles ached, cramped, and her jaws hung slack as she panted. The murk enveloped her like a blanket, and she huddled into its embrace, keeping an eye on that pool of brightness so close.
Though she fought it, her eyelids drifted. So tired. Exhausted. First the chase, then the fear, then the hiding, and always, always the running. Endless. Incessant. Time to stop now. Time to rest.
Just a little time to rest?
No! Stay awake! Eyes open, watching. They'd come otherwise, with their knives and their patches. She couldn't let them take her unawares. Flee! Flee!
But so tired. So very tired.
Head hurts. Aches. Throbbing pain. People with their harsh words and piercing screams. Chalkboard shriek. Easy prey, but savage. Hatred. She remembered that. Hated her kind. Not understand. Freak. Genetrash. Heavy hands and soft touches. Horrible. Horrible. She remembered breath hot on her cheek, pressure, then screeching. Run away! Run away! Escape! Feathers, the flutter of wings. Coppery tang and a wet ripping. Chase, chase, always running, always routed. So tired. So, so tired.
Just a little time to rest?
Perhaps. Sleep harried away the monsters; sent them spinning into the ravines were they couldn't climb out. Buried. Blurred. Blotted out.
Blackness.
When Ray finally stepped out of school, the sky was already turning a light purple, frayed at the edges with shades of scarlet and yellow. He shielded his eyes, glancing around at the dearth of cars, and sighed. Only Miss Minkis' battered old Honda was left in the parking lot. He watched the beady-eyed teacher who'd seen fit to incarcerate him for the past few hours waddle over and climb in. It was a bit of a surprise when she gunned the engine and drove off like a wannabe rally-racer. He'd never had her down as a bad driver, considering what a stickler she was for the rules, but she took the corner like Mr. McGoo.
Somewhere in the echoing corridors of the deserted school he could hear Leroy, the janitor, as he finished locking up. Strains of 'Waltzing Matilda' filtered through the door. Ray let it bang shut behind him. He hated that song. Too many memories of drunkards trying to sing it as they staggered past him at night, or else tried to turf him out of the doorway he'd taken.
Instinctively he shook his head, dispelling the flickers of memory, and started down the stone staircase towards the street.
School was an odd place when all the kids had left; full of echoes and the smell of freshly swept floors. Almost tomb-like, if he was trying to be particularly morbid. The rest of the detentionees were gone, but Ray had decided to fetch the remnants of his torn bag first, hoping to salvage the thing. Lack of cash meant he had nothing with which to buy a new one, and he surveyed the scrap of fabric dolefully, wondering whether he could convince Ororo to mend it for him when he got home.
Home?
For a second he blinked, startled at the use of the word, and halted mid-step. He'd never referred to the Institute as his home before. Not that he could remember, at any rate. In fact, he could quite clearly recall a conversation with Scott about not calling it that.
Scott wasn't quick to anger unless provoked. Ray had hit a nerve when he once dubbed the mansion 'freak show ground zero'. It was a curious knack of his, being able to spot a person's proverbial weak spot quicker than most. Not a physical thing, but a psychological one – their vulnerability. Logan could do it too. Like with Sam's preoccupation with his height, or Jean's near-obsession with having everybody like her. Things you didn't mention in polite conversation, or unless you were purposefully trying to get a person's back up.
Of course, it made sense that the X-Men leader would take umbrage at anybody not showing the mansion the correct level of respect. The Institute was pretty much all Scott had in the world, bar his little brother. Ray knew, as did all the new recruits, the story of how Scott and Alex had been separated so many years ago. It was no secret that Scott's attachment to his team and the new home Xavier had given him had been – and still was – the centre point in his life ever since. Even Alex's miraculous return hadn't taken the shine off. Scott's team was his family, as Jean had tried to explain following the argument, and Scott was nothing if not defensive of his own.
Still, Ray had come out of the dispute with a scowl and a bad word, his perception of the place not altered a jot. After all, why should he call it his home when it had been blatantly thrust upon him out of the blue?
Of course, he'd had to remind himself that the other kids didn't know about that part – and never would, if he had his way. The part about how Xavier's school had only been the lesser of two evils – well, three if you counted his parents' house, which he rarely did. Ray didn't exactly have what you'd call a 'close' relationship with the people who'd spawned him. Mr. and Mrs. Crisp hadn't even waved him goodbye the day he left – an incident that still twinged, no matter how much he told himself it didn't matter, and that he didn't need them anyway.
His acceptance of the invitation to join the Institute and the X-Men had been... what? How best to describe it? An escape clause? A lifeboat? Thinking about it, he supposed it had been. He wasn't a particularly philosophical person by nature, but even he could see the analogy.
Unlike the other new recruits, Ray's offer to join hadn't been given in a sitting room, beside his family, over the phone, or through a mutual friend. The circumstances of his first meeting with Xavier hadn't exactly been normal, either. Pressed up against a sewer wall, hardly able to see through his own blood as Logan bounded in and saw off the bunch of thugs literally beating him to pieces for poking his nose where it didn't belong. Not the best way to make a first impression. In fact, if he hadn't blacked out right about then, Ray wasn't sure if he'd have stuck around to see who the bladed mutant was, let alone listen to what he had to say.
But I did, he thought. And here I am.
He took a moment to massage his temples, which was easily done considering he'd abandoned his schoolbooks in lieu of any pressing homework and the fact he'd have to walk home with them in his arms.
Home. There was that word again. Twice in as many minutes, and with no real reason behind either.
Ray snorted. Probably, nobody else would be bothered by slipping up that way, but it disconcerted him more than a little. His trust wasn't easily given. In the beginning, he'd almost considered himself bullied into joining Xavier's school; railroaded. That hadn't been the case, as he realised later. Xavier had given the option to turn him down, and made sure he'd known it was there. Ray'd had the choice to turn around and go back into the tunnels, to walk away, but instead he'd chosen Upworld. His decision, nobody else's. And some days he still wondered what had made him do it.
Had he been so desperately unhappy down there?
No, not that he could remember.
He'd always been the black sheep of his family, true; never fitting in wherever he went. To some extent it had been the same down there, but his freaky genes had given him an edge that he hadn't had in the sun – an intrinsic ability to integrate, to fit in. The makeup of his blood had made him a part of them even when his attitude set him apart – a mutant amongst mutants, one of their kind.
So had it been his attitude that drove him back out into the light, then?
No, it couldn't be that either, since that was exactly the reason he wasn't a good fit at the Institute. He wasn't the right shape for their jigsaw, wouldn't slot in nicely like Scott, Jean or Kitty. Heck, even Kurt fitted better than he did – quite a feat considering the elf was blue, furry and demonic, and Ray had all the attributes of a normal human kid.
So what was it? What had made him grasp the Professor's hand that day and let Logan guide him out of the tunnels propped on his shoulder? What was stopping him from fitting in when he'd consciously made the decision to come here?
Perhaps he wasn't really meant for either place. Perhaps he really was the bad-tempered loner that Evan was always calling him. Perhaps he'd convinced himself he couldn't do it so that he wouldn't be disappointed when things eventually went wrong.
Or perhaps he was too screwed up to tell what he wanted.
With an irritated grunt, Ray stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. He cast about for a second to make sure nobody was about, and then scooted backwards, around the edge of the school building towards the football field.
Self analysis wasn't his forté, nor did he enjoy it when it decided to pop up and plague him, and whenever he got too bogged down in seriousness he found it was best to indulge in a bit of downtime to clear his head.
The bleachers were stark and imposing – about as welcoming as the empty school. It didn't matter though. They were private, and far enough away from the street that nobody could see him. Not that what he was doing was against the law or anything, but he'd spent so long perfecting techniques of not getting caught at the Institute that hiding his habit had become a habit in its own right.
Knuckling down on the lowest bench, he drew the packet of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and patted around for his lighter. It wasn't where he usually kept it, however, and for a brief second he wondered whether he'd mistakenly left it in his locker. Then he remembered zipping it into the side of his backpack that morning when Logan did a spot check. Idly, he retrieved it, and sat with his hand cupped around his face as he tried to get it to light. As if on cue, a stiff breeze had sprung up the second he sat down. It curled around his fingers, tugging the flame away each time it appeared.
Time passed. The lighter remained unlit, but Ray's famous anger was doing a good job in its stead. He shook it, but aside from making the fuel bubble inside the gaudy pink plastic – that was the last time he bought a lighter from a truck stop – the action did nothing more than stir his annoyance that little bit more. He growled. He scowled.
"Need a light?"
The voice made him look up, startled and half-expecting to see Miss Minkis striding across the field. After that little display in her car and the dubious novel she'd been reading in detention, he wasn't sure what to put past the crusty old prude anymore.
Yet the teacher was nowhere to be seen. On impulse, Ray had let his cigarette drop into his hand where he could easily stash it up his sleeve if questioned, but it appeared the move hadn't been needed after all.
"Yo, brainiac! Up here!" The voice came again, tinged with laughter.
Ray turned to see a familiar blonde figure bouncing her way down the bleachers towards him from where she'd been standing in the uppermost corner. She waved, tripped, and almost lost her footing, but somehow managed to turn it into a hop-skip that rattled the wood beneath him.
"Hey," said Tabby as she drew closer.
Ray grunted, but made no move to leave when she plopped down beside him. She was breathless, but her trademark grin stayed in place.
"How long were you standing up there?" he demanded.
"Is that any way to greet your old teammate? I'm hurt." She pulled a pseudo-injured face and rocked back to lean her elbows on the bench behind them. "Long enough. I'm surprised you didn't notice me when you sat down. I was waiting for Lance and the goon-squad to come pick me up after work. He started his new job last week, and thus far he's managed to keep it, too."
Ray didn't say anything, but pressed his cigarette back between his lips. Tabby took this as a response, and carried on as if he'd spoken. During her brief time with the X-Men, Ray had learned that Tabby's capacity to hold an entire conversation on her own was astonishing, and that when talking to her you sometimes didn't have to say anything to hold your own.
"I know, will wonders never cease? He's even kept his temper in check while he's been there, so no freak earthquakes recently either. That should keep those scientists up at the university happy, huh? Anyway, he said he'd pick me up on his way back to the Boarding House, since it's en route and all, and you just know that the other three will be tagging along with him. Honestly, they're worse than dogs when it comes to car rides, and considering Pietro can run faster than any car anyway, I sometimes wonder why he even bothers. I mean, he's forever going on about challenges and all, but Lance's jeep is about as challenging as a pink poodle. So do you need a light or what?"
The abrupt change in topic left Ray lagging for a second. When he caught up she was staring expectantly at him. There was nothing in her hands, nor any lighter or matches anywhere that he could see. He figured it was probably a joke. She was famous for them, after all.
"Got one," he said around his cigarette, inclining his head.
"It working?" Tabby grinned, and then cupped her left hand under his nose. A tiny pinprick of light manifested in the centre of her palm, growing to about the size of a golf ball in a matter of seconds. It crackled angrily, spitting tiny pink sparkles at him like an irate kitten.
"The hell?" Ray reeled back, thinking for a moment that she was trying to blow up his face with it.
Tabby had always been a wild card, but since her defection to the Brotherhood her exploits had been growing steadily, both in intensity and number, until he didn't know what not to put past her. It was the main reason many of the X-men didn't associate with her anymore, not even on a social basis. However, Ray and several others – Jean and Kurt included, it has to be said; a friendship several kids wondered how his new girlfriend Amanda Sefton was taking – still kept up sporadic contact, which was the main reason why he hadn't been unduly bothered by her approach on the bleachers.
Now, however, he skittered backwards to the sound of her laughing. "Geez, what's the matter? You've seen me use my powers before, and there's nobody around."
"Yeah, but not right in my schnoz before. You wanna warn a guy when you do that?"
She pulled a face. "Oh, lighten up, you're beginning to sound like Scooter-boy. So anyway, I can't keep this baby hot forever. You wanna use it for a light, or what?"
Finally grasping what she meant, Ray grumbled and edged forward, need for nicotine temporarily dousing conversation. He bent his head, keeping his eyes on her face and, true to her word, the tiny little bomb lit his cigarette with ease before fizzling out with a noise like a dead TV set.
Ray arched an eyebrow as she dusted off her hands. "Since when can you make those things leave without blowing up?"
"I've been practising," she said slyly, wiggling her fingers at him. Then, with a slight of hand she procured a cigarette from his packet and popped it between her lips. He glanced down, and then back up at her, blinking.
"Hey!"
"What?" She produced another short-lived bomb, lit up, and then inhaled, letting out a breath of grey smoke that plumed around her head as she leaned back again. "Gotta be some perks to helping folk." She wagged the white stick at him like a parent telling off a child. "There's a always a catch to things, Raymond. The trick is knowing what they are before they happen. Didn't I teach you anything before I left?"
Always a catch, Ray thought, remembering something she'd once said to him when they first moved to the Institute. The memory elicited another, and he smiled – a rare sight.
"You know, we've gotta stop meeting like this."
For a moment Tabby looked confused. "What are you - " Then realisation dawned visibly as she remembered that first night at the Institute when she'd crept out of her bedroom for a quick cigarette, only to meet him outside, already smoking. That day was a little hazy now, but she remembered that much. "Except, if I remember right, I was the one with the crummy lighter last time. Looks like I finally paid my debt, huh?"
Ray said nothing. There was no need to.
Time passed, as they indulged themselves in their brief sin. Soon a smoky cloud enveloped the area. It was odd how much smoke cigarettes could produce, considering their tiny size.
Any of the other X-Men would be horrified to see him now, Ray knew. Even those who still consorted with Tabby had no love of smokers. He'd seen them walking past those less discreet than himself, holding their noses and commented in stage whispers about the smell. That was why few of them knew he did it. He didn't need any extra flack about smoking along with his attitude and disrespect for the rules, and he certainly didn't want to give Roberto any more bullets to use.
He cut a sidelong glance at Tabby, which she saw and questioned with a raised eyebrow.
"So why the long face? You looked like a month of wet Sundays when you sat down. Something on your mind?"
"Just... stuff," he replied, waving a careless hand that clearly said 'I-don't-want-to-talk-about-it'. He deflected further questions by asking one of his own. "So how come you're here so late anyway? I didn't see you in detention, and I'm pretty sure you didn't stick around to help old Leroy clean up."
"I had a date."
"Go well?"
"I guess you could say that." She gave a rapacious grin, which broadened as he leaned over and plucked a tuft of partially mashed grass from her shoulder. A few green stains were just about visible on the back of her top.
"So I see."
She took a long drag, puffing out a series of small rings that hovered for a second before dispersing. "So how's life treating you? Wait, that sounded corny, didn't it?"
"Very, and okay, I guess. Logan's been coming down pretty hard in the training sessions recently, but the originals have been copping a lot of it, too. He says we ain't working hard enough."
"You know, that's one of the things I really don't miss about that place. Bumblefuck in the morning is no time to have a training session, and when I get in from school all I wanna do is relax, not run some gauntlet in a giant metal room with a man named after a small mammal."
Ray shrugged. "He's not so bad, once you get to know him a bit more. And actually, Wolverines are quite large critters." There was a lull, and after a second he looked at her. "What?"
Tabby shook her head, corners of her mouth twitching. "I never thought I'd see the day you defended 'ole Wolvie. As I recall, he seemed to like tearing strips off you in particular whenever you screwed up."
"Says the girl who called him Badger and then nearly drowned her teammate."
"Touché." She took a long drag and let the smoke billow out from her nostrils. She looked like a dragon from a fairytale, and he told her as such. "Watch it, or I might start breathing fire at you," she warned.
"No, that's Miss Minkis."
Tabby chuckled, and he gave a watery smile. Tabby had always been pretty easy to talk to. Not that he liked her as anything more than a friend, but some days he missed having her about the Institute. Her easy banter and cynicism was a welcome change from the other's blind faith and open moralising. Their backgrounds were vastly different, but he got the feeling they understood each other better than most; that they were on the same level.
A bird flew overhead, cawing loudly. Ray craned his neck back and watched it meet the rest of its flock, the bunch pf them wheeling away over the school building. Gradually, their noise faded away into the distance, but still he stared at the point where they'd disappeared from sight. He blinked, impressions of sunlight causing green splotches to weave across his vision. The cigarette hung slack. A pinch of ash broke off and fluttered into his lap.
"Aw shit!" He jumped up and brushed it off before it could burn a hole in his pants. Tabby snorted behind her hand, and he looked sharply up at her. "And what's so funny?"
"You, of course. Don't ask stupid questions if you don't want stupid answers." She rolled her eyes, then took out her cigarette and flicked the end away so that it wouldn't burn her jeans. "How long have you been smoking now, and you still haven't got the hang of it? Shameful." She tutted, shaking her head.
Ray sat back down again and surveyed the smouldering cancer-stick. "You know," he said without looking back, "I think I might actually give these things up. I think I remember someone once telling me they're bad for my health."
This time she didn't even try to hide it behind her hand. "Oh, be serious! You couldn't give up smoking in a million years, any more than I could."
"Wanna bet?"
"Like I've got money to burn."
It was a trivial comment, so small and meaningless, but the mention of Boarding House economics crashed down on their conversation like a guillotine, severing anything Ray had been about to say.
Suddenly he felt very uncomfortable. Despite what he'd been saying he replaced his cigarette between his teeth and inhaled, filling his lungs with smoke and breathing it out again.
Tabby must've felt the same way, because her laughter died away. She didn't try to restart it.
When had Tabby left the Institute to join the Brotherhood, it had really brought home the financial implications of the X-Men's nemeses. Well, they weren't really nemeses, but they were the closest they had, and it was difficult to view them as just that when you knew how hard they had to work in everyday life just to feed themselves. Especially since life in the mansion was so plush by comparison. The realisation of life on 'the other side of the tracks' was a ready-made guilt trip that none of them liked to confront.
Nobody had really considered before what life at the Boarding House post-Mystique was actually like. Even after Kitty brought home stories of the squalor there, and after Tabby moved in, it was a topic culpably avoided by most. Lance and his followers were too proud to accept help, but too much at odds to ever concede that their problems were just too much for them to handle alone. Scott maintained that they were all just a bunch of jerks, and most of the time they lived up to their rep, but they were jerks that had a hard time and a rough lot in life.
Kind of like me, Ray thought, a mere hint of acrimony edging his mind. Except I got a shot at a second chance at the Institute, and they don't. Just like the other Morlocks don't... aw hell! He nearly swore out loud. I came out here to forget about all that, not think about it more!
However, it was too late. Even with his cigarette pressed between his lips Ray couldn't evade the thoughts and images that ensued the brief lapse. He rumbled savagely to himself as they crowded into his head. He tried to shove them out again.
Maybe it was the encroaching sunset, maybe it was the peaceful atmosphere, or maybe it was just that his brain was sick of avoiding the subject. Whatever the reason, things he'd buried and stopped thinking about months ago suddenly elected to rise to the surface and hit him where it hurt – his oft-denied conscience.
He felt guilty about the predicament facing the Brotherhood, as did all the X-Men on some level – even Scott, who professed to loathe the whole lot of them. After all, there but for a trick of fate could be themselves, and it was a sticking point whenever they looked out of the window and saw the distant bulk of the Boarding House looming on the horizon.
Yet only Ray was lumbered with two sets of shame about companions left in the lurch. The Brotherhood were peers, school buddies, even a romantic interest in Kitty's case. Yet the Morlocks had been more than that. They'd been his tribe – his surrogate family. They'd taken him in when he ran away from home and had nowhere to go, not questioning his story and doing all they could to make him feel one of them. He'd considered himself a freak of nature – genetrash. Xavier hadn't been the first to tell him that he wasn't. That base was covered long ago. Even Callisto had attempted to include him in their way of life, and she was notorious for her temper and suspicious nature. He was supposed to have been loyal to them, a part of them, but instead he'd left at the first opportunity of something better.
He'd got his second chance, but simply by the nature of what they were, what made them Morlocks, none of them ever would.
He'd betrayed them. Betrayed what they stood for.
You betrayed them.
"Fuck."
"Excuse me?" Tabby lifted her gaze from where she'd been staring at a patch of grass. She cocked her head to one side. "Uh-oh, your smile is fading."
"It wasn't faded already?"
Exhaling noisily, she leaned forward and rested a hand on Ray's shoulder. It was a friendly hand, not the seductive touch she was wont to use, nor as threatening as she could be. She'd only meant it to be a comforting gesture, a prelude to asking him if he wanted to talk about it. Not her forte, she'd happily admit, but still...
Yet Ray shrugged her off and turned his face away, eyes troubled. Tabby blinked, surprised at how his expression had changed in a few short seconds.
"You okay, buddy?"
He said nothing, but took a last drag of his cigarette and dropped the stub onto the turf. He took a moment to grind it with the heel of his boot as he stood up, and then walked away without another word. That in itself wasn't unusual. Ray often just upped and left. It was a quirk of who he was, though people who didn't know him properly often mistook it for outright insolence.
However, the look on his face this time denoted a deeper motive this time. Tabby knew the signs of running away and was confused to see them in Ray. She wondered if she'd got it wrong and given him the come on when she didn't mean to. It wouldn't be the first time she'd given someone the wrong signs.
Tabby jumped up to trail after him, eager to set the record straight, or make him feel better if it wasn't her who had done wrong. Ray wasn't her teammate anymore, but something was bothering him, and she reasoned that she'd abandoned the X-Men in name only.
He tried to skirt around her, but she planted herself in his path and folded her arms. "Alright, spill it. What's the matter?"
"Leave me alone, Tabby," he said, moving aside again.
She sidestepped along with him and peered pointedly up into his face. He was a good few inches taller than her. Anyone else might have been intimidated when he glared down at them. Ray had spent a good deal of time perfecting his glare, and usually it worked to great effect when coupled with that bizarre haircut. However, Tabby ignored it and tapped her foot.
"Not until you spill. Come on, don't you trust me?"
For a second he wavered. She saw it in his eyes, and waited for him to tell her what was bugging him. Then the curtain fell across his face again. He pushed past her towards the street without so much as a backward glance.
For a second Tabby just stared after him. Then, taking the forethought to rid herself of the incriminating – though still only half-burned cigarette – she gave chase.
Ray looked heavenwards, but kept on going. Tabby's footsteps on the pavement behind him were like machinegun fire, only levelling off when she dropped into step alongside him. She jammed her hands into her pockets, cast a look, and then started whistling amiably.
"Fuck off, Tabby."
"Make me, tough guy. It's a free country. I can walk here if I like. Besides, you shouldn't be rude to me. I just gave up a perfectly good cigarette for you."
"I mean it. Quit following me."
"Who said anything about following you? Jeez, you men, you're all the same. So arrogant. Maybe I was going this way anyhow, ever think of that?."
"No, you were waiting for Lance to come and pick you up."
"Damnit, you saw through my clever ruse."
Ray sighed and wound the ruined backpack around his arm. Silence lapsed between them for several minutes, until they reached a crossing and Tabby broke it again.
"So, what is bothering you?"
"Nothing," Ray snapped, hustling forward as a Land Rover waved them across. He spared the driver a curt nod of acknowledgement and thanks, but ignored Tabby until she skipped ahead of him again. "Look, I never asked for you to come and speak to me, so just fuck off and leave me alone already. I don't want to talk about it."
"Ooh, touchy," she sarcasmed, yet her face was concerned.
Ray shoved past her with only the tiniest spark of regret. It wasn't often people concerned themselves over trash like him. Figures the one time it happened it was over a topic he really didn't want to discuss – no, couldn't discuss.
He felt bad, though. Life at the Institute must have been turning him soft, because he tried to apologise and failed miserably. His internal retinue of cussing increased.
"Look, I'm sorry, okay? It's just that... I... well..." he struggled, wondering how to put his unwanted thoughts into words without actually telling her about the Morlocks. To reveal their existence was an unthinkable crime, even to someone like him. He knew the laws, foremost of which were secrecy of the tribe and the location of the Alley, and though some days he just wanted someone to talk to about everything, to air his guilt to, he knew that he couldn't. As far as Tabby and the X-Men were concerned, he'd come to join the team fresh from his parents' house. There was no need for the incident in the tunnels to ever go beyond himself, Logan and the Professor.
Tabby tilted her head to one side, unused to seeing Ray tongue-tied. Usually, if words failed him he filled in the blanks with invectives or meaningless grunts. There was a strange look on his face now, almost like he was choking. She wondered what on earth could be making him act this way when he'd seemed so at ease back on the bleachers.
"Is it about your folks?" She wasn't ignorant to the loveless relationship of the Crisp family, mainly because it was the same kind of feeling between herself and her father – only without the criminal records.
Ray blinked slowly. Then he nodded.
"See, was that so difficult?"
"Fuck off, Tabby." But this time there was no real emphasis behind the words. It was just something to say, to fill in the quiet, and she brushed it aside with a toss of her head.
"You, my friend, have a classic case of emotional constipation."
"Say what? Eew, that sounds gross."
She grinned, glad to have gotten a response, even if it was trifling. "It does, doesn't it? Not the kind of thing you'd expect to find in a Disney movie."
They started walking again, gradually sliding back into a conversation that traversed from Walt Disney across to Hollywood, dipped its toes into homework and school, and then settled down into what was on TV that evening – trivial things they could talk about without fear of making the other clam up or feel uncomfortable.
They crossed several streets. Around them the sky darkened from lilac to purple, and then to indigo. Finally, Ray looked around and remarked that they were getting further and further away from school and her appointed meeting spot with Lance and the guys.
"You sure they won't assume you're making your own way home?"
"Even if they do, this is the way back to the Boarding House. At least until the end of this street." Tabby gestured to the junction they were approaching; right towards the Xavier Institute, left towards the Brotherhood's place. "I guess we'll be parting company whatever happens. I'll just hang around here until those bozos drive past and then flag them down."
Ray looked around with a critical eye. This street wasn't exactly the most dangerous of places, but it had a disreputable air that made him want to turn into another one as quickly as he could. They passed a small alleyway, dark with shadows caused by its inherent smallness, and he shivered despite himself.
He wasn't what you'd call a weedy guy. In fact his time in the sewers and training sessions with Logan had made him quite muscular compared to some of his peers. Even so, the nearness to the 'bad' side of town – Jubilee, New York and L.A. veteran, still marvelled that Bayville was big enough to even have a 'bad' district – made him feel uneasy.
"You ain't waiting around this dump alone," he told Tabby matter-of-factly, and stopped in the middle of the pavement. "Not on the street corner, either. That's exactly the way to give folks the wrong idea." He cringed, realising he sounded like his mother.
Tabby arched an eyebrow. "Why Raymond, I didn't know you cared."
"I don't, but Professor Xavier'll chew me out if I left you alone in a place like this. That's after Logan's cut me into little pieces and spread me across the driveway."
"Yeah, I'll bet he would."
Ray'f forehead furrowed slightly. "The Professor still feels responsible for you, y'know. Even though you left us."
Tabby nodded, frowned, and then leaned up against the wall to take off her shoe and empty out a pebble that had been annoying her for three streets. "Yeah, I know. He tried to talk me out of going a few times, but it wasn't any use. I'm no good for the Institute, and the Institute's no good for me. Never was, and I doubt it ever will be. Didn't stop him from trying, though. Said he owed it to me to make sure I was provided for. Pfft! He didn't figure on Lance and that dumbass pride of his." She sounded bitter.
Ray blinked, for a moment a little slow on the uptake. "What's Kitty got to do with it?"
"Not Pryde, genius, pride. Lance has some thing going that he won't accept handouts, and he won't let any of the rest of us accept them either. Says the Brotherhood's not a charity case, and that we can stand on our own two feet. Or ten feet. Whatever."
Uncomfortable, and in the light of talk about feet, Ray scuffed his own. "Y'know, if things get really bad, you could always rejoin the X-Men - "
"Weren't you listening to me?" She slipped her sneaker back on and reached up to rap on his head with her knuckles. However, the position was an uncomfortable one, so she settled for his shoulder. "Hello? Anybody home? I just said the Institute wasn't a good fit. Lack of money's not going to change that. Besides," she shrugged, "I couldn't walk out on the Brotherhood now. They took me in – well, kinda – so I owe them a little loyalty."
"They could all - "
"Tried it. Failed it. Buried it. Xavier's called the Boarding House before now – whenever the city hadn't cut off our phone – and offered a place at the mansion to the whole bunch of us." She let out a breath through her teeth. "Unfortunately, guess who answered."
"Lance?"
"That's right – he can be taught! Lancey-poo pretty much told him to shove his offer where the sun don't shine."
"I'm taking it that happened after the whole joyriding incident?" Ray had heard along with everybody else of Sam, Jubilee and Bobby's exploits, as well as how it had led up to Lance leaving the New Mutants. He'd been sad to see him go. Lance was an okay guy, once you got past the bad attitude and too-many rock puns, and he always pulled his weight in the training sims.
"Right again," Tabby sighed. "I wouldn't mind so much, but it's a lot easier to make proclamations like that when your belly isn't aching and there's water coming out your faucets." She looked up, about to say more, but stopped. "Hey, Ray, you okay there?"
Ray's features had taken on an odd quality. He looked fairly distant, and she glanced over her shoulder before realising he was staring off into space and not actually at anything. A flash of remorse flared briefly in his gaze, but was over before she turned her head back and waved in front of his eyes.
"Earth to Ray, come in Ray."
"Wha - " He blinked, as if waking up from sleep.
"You okay? You spaced out for a minute there."
"Uh – fine. I'm fine," he said, but he could see she didn't believe him for a second. He couldn't tell her what he'd been thinking about, though.
Why did she have to go and use the word loyalty? For fuck's sake, he'd nearly put it out of mind, and now it was back again, grinning at him like a gargoyle squatting in the middle of his thoughts.
You betrayed them. You abandoned them.
"You sure?"
"I said I'm fine. Quit henpecking me, will ya?"
Tabby raised her hands, palms outward in the universal gesture of surrender. "Yeesh, keep your lid on. You're more hormonal than me when I'm PMS-ing."
A loud honking crushed any further conversation. The two of them turned to see a familiar green jeep careening down the empty street. It slowed as it drew nearer, trundling to a halt and then stopping with a squeal of badly-oiled gears. Lance kept the engine running. The duo of Fred and Todd grinned down from the back seat. Of Pietro there was no sign.
"Hey, Tabby, I thought you said to meet by the school. We've been looking all over for you." Lance was resplendent in his work uniform, the white apron that read 'Welcome to Joe's Eatery' in crudely printed red letters staring balefully out at the world. He'd removed the matching cardboard hat, but Todd was now wearing it like a victory helmet in his stead. Lance obviously didn't know about that, or he never would've allowed it. Todd's personal odour had a habit of getting into anything he touched and not leaving again for at least a week.
"I find that difficult to believe," Tabby replied, one hand on her hip, the other trailing aimlessly. "You were late anyway. Try for overtime?"
"Nah, but we stopped to get some dinner on the way."
"We got pizza!" Todd held up a box. From the way he jostled it around it was clear there was nothing in it, which would've been annoying were it not for the large stack of similar boxes in Fred's lap. Ray counted six, and then saw there was another open in the large boy's hands.
"It was the weirdest thing," Fred said in his rumbling, vaguely ponderous bass. "All I did was walk in to order and they shoved this load of food at me free of charge." He gave a wicked smirk, and bit into the half-eaten slice in his hand. "I really can't understand it."
"How very generous," said Tabby. "So where's Pie-Pie? Off on another hot date?"
"Yup." Lance shrugged. "Just don't ask me who it is this time. He's got too many for me to keep track."
"The boy should just settle down, yo," Todd remarked, and grappled with Fred to open the pizza box.
"Right, Pietro the Player settle down. That'll be the day." Tabby shook her head, scornful.
"Whatever. Look, the pizza's getting cold, and if we don't get home soon neither you nor I are gonna get a look in before these two guzzle everything." Lance leaned over the back of his seat and swatted at Fred, who shifted aside with surprising grace.
"Missed me."
"You're gettin' slow, Lance. Old age catchin' up, yo?"
"Whatever."
"Valley girl talk! Valley girl talk!"
"Todd, shut up. Tabby, you coming, or are you gonna stay here all night with your date?" He gestured, and then blinked, as if seeing Ray for the first time. "Hey, don't I know you?" Lance snapped his fingers as he placed the face. "I do remember you. Berzerker, right? Hey, wait a second, you're Tabby's new beau?" He sounded quite astonished.
Ray wasn't sure if wanted to assent or hit him.
Tabby stepped in between them before he could say a word. "No, Ray's not my date. That guy left ages ago. And believe me, there won't be any repeat performances there. Weaker than a newborn kitten. Wham, bam, thank you ma'am." She turned to Todd and Fred, who were looking on with interest. "Sorry boys, details don't get any gorier than that. Fred, Todd, this is Ray Crisp. I used to live with him at the Institute. He offered to stay with me while I was waiting for you bozos."
"Why? He expectin' a reward at the end or sumthin'?" Todd dragged his head back, trying to jerk a particularly stringy piece of cheese free. It snapped back and hit him in the face, sticking to his forehead. Shrugging, he peeled it off and ate it anyway.
"It's called chivalry, Tadpole. You might wanna look it up sometime. It might get you a few more dates."
"Nah, that soap you're thinking of," Lance said waspishly.
Tabby slapped her forehead. "Oops, so I am. My mistake."
"Not funny, yo." Todd folded his arms and stuck out his lower lip, making for a curiously comical picture, since there was a dribble of tomato sauce running between his eyes. "Damn stuff's poison, I swear. You shouldn't be jokin' about that crap. 'Specially to me. Urgh – brings me out in hives just thinkin' 'bout it."
"Hang on a minute," Fred broke in. "Let me get this straight. You're actually hanging out with a member of the geek-squad voluntarily?" He swayed his head from side to side. "That just ain't right."
"The X-men aren't all jerkoffs," Tabby replied, and Ray wondered whether that was a compliment or a not-so-cleverly-disguised insult at his team. "Lance and his little Kitty-cat prove that; and if I recall, one of them used to be your teammate. Besides, I used to be a geek-squadder. Or have you forgotten that?"
"Yeah, but... you're different."
"How so?"
"You're, uh... you."
Todd rolled his eyes. "Witty comeback, yo. Ain't lost your touch yet, big guy."
Lance patted the steering wheel, recapturing all their attentions. "Look, whoever Tabby hangs out with is no concern of ours, so long as that busybody Xavier stays away from our doorstep." He shot Ray a pointed look, as if daring him to contradict.
Ray met the gaze confidently, even a little coolly.
That seemed to placate Lance, because he nodded and indicated that Tabby should hop up into her accustomed place in the passenger seat. "Anyhow, right now we gotta get home. I don't know about you guys, but I'm starving."
"Yeah, and the pizza's gettin' all cold and eaten," Todd said, snagging another piece and biting a chunk out with gusto. "Mmmm, mushroom and bacon. Hafta try that place again, Freddy boy. They got excellent recipes."
Tabby started forwards, but stopped when she only had one foot on the step. She swivelled around, looking between Lance and the end of the street, and then hopped back down to grab Ray's elbow. "Want a ride back to the Institute?"
Ray blinked, not having anticipated the offer. "Uh..."
"Come on, it's better than walking. Besides, it's getting dark. One chivalrous turn deserves another and all that jazz. Pietro's not here, so you can have his space."
"Hey!" snapped Lance, vexed at the offer being made without his prior consent. "This is my jeep, y'know. What if I don't want him riding in it?"
"Oh, go boil your head, Lance. I thought you were saying a minute ago it's okay to hang around with a member of the dork patrol?"
"I said you could hang around with them. I never said anything about sharing my jeep. More to the point, we aren't even going in that direction." He looked slightly petulant.
Tabby turned on her heel to stab a finger up at him. "Okay then, lover boy. I'll remember that the next time you want to bring Kitty home. After all, it's technically my home, too, and perhaps I don't want to share with her. Or maybe I'll remind you of this the next time you forget which team you're on. As I recall, you used to give rides to practically all the Institute kids while you were staying up at the mansion. Or is it one rule for you, and another for everyone else?"
"Woo, she got you there, Lance," Todd crowed. He was silenced by an icy look.
"Can it, frog-boy. It's my jeep. And hey! Give me that hat back!" Lance snatched the cap and jammed it into the front compartment by his knees, while Todd yelped and said something about having his hair ripped out.
Ray came up to Tabby's side and tapped her on the shoulder. "It's fine, I can walk back. It's not that far from here."
Tabby said nothing, just kept staring up at Lance. In turn, Lance rolled his eyes and sighed. He knew that his dates with Kitty depended on the other Brotherhood members clearing out for the evening, or at least being quiet. He usually tried to make sure he took her out somewhere, but sometimes they just wanted a little peace and quiet. Tabby could make things very difficult of she wanted to.
"You sure he isn't your new beau?"
Tabby cut a glance at Ray, and he read the sardonic smile in her eyes even though it never went to her lips. "Puh-lease. Ray's my friend and he did me a favour, so I wanted to return it. Is that so difficult to understand? You're the one who's making this difficult and more than it has to be."
Todd leaned over, dangling a drippy pizza slice. The smell was strong and enticing. They all heard Lance's stomach growl. "Come on, Lance. Make a decision already. The food's all gettin' cold anyhow, if you wanna be picky about it."
"Oh all right," said Lance, and jerked a thumb over his shoulder that Ray should climb into the backseat next to Fred. "But I want it known now that I'm doing this under duress. Any closer than this to Geeker HQ is too close in my book."
"Even if you're goin' to pick up Miss Meow?"
"Shut up, Todd, or I'll use you as a hood ornament."
Tabby slid in next to him and, smiling, chucked under his chin with a carefully manicured nail. "Guess your love-life's safe for another day."
Lance's face was dark. "Gee, I'm so appreciative."
"You should be. Oh, and Lance honey?"
"What now?"
"You really need a shave."
To Be Continued...
Review Responses:
Me (Harry Wriggle) – Me finish something? Be serious, Harry. Fortune's Fool is up to 147 pages on my computer, but not finished. I just thought seventeen months of gestation was enough. I shall be emailing you forthwith about that art you offered. If, y'know, it's still on offer. And as for the money analogy, I agree. And I liken it to my version of the Prince's words from Blackadder the Third: Reviews are like sex – tons of it about, and I never seem to get any.
SperryDee - All shall be revealed in due course. But be warned, not everything is as it seems on the surface.
Ivan Alias – You know Yodel? He's right, insofar as there is some Authio Commentary as yet unreleased concerning Judgment Day, but it comes in the form of a sort-of-third epilogue. I just left it out of the version here on because new regulations said anything that isn't strictly fiction will get a whole fic scrubbed, and possibly an account suspension. Feh. Boscastle – my father used to work there when he was a student. He was very surprised to see it on the news. Poor bastards.
Angel of the Fallen Stars – Here's that Ray-centric part you were after. And Judgment Day is pretty much finished for the moment, unless someone is up for writing a sequel. It's an open-ended kind of fic, like the film, The Omega Man. Kindasorta.