Moving On
Summary:
One of the undoubtedly numerous 'what-happens-after-X3' fics. X3
spoilers and slash, in Bobby's POV
Fandom:
X-men
Pairings:
Bobby/Rogue, hints of Bobby/John, John/OC
Warnings:
Bad language, slash
Disclaimer:
I own Cypher and the Medusa. Nothing else
Author's
Note: Sorry folks, but there will be NO MORE updates until July. I'm
moving house, and it'll take a good few weeks to get the interent
connection up and running...sorry
And no, not the Legacy Virus. I'm not familiar enough with comicverse canon to do it justice.
For a moment I could do nothing but stare blankly, unable to comprehend what I had just been told. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that I must have misheard.
"Sorry,
what did you just say?"
"I'm
dying," John repeated patiently. My brain short-circuited at that
point. I couldn't quite wrap my head around the concept. That John;
who had always been so full of life, so in the moment, could be
dying. Part of me wanted to believe that it was some sort of sick
joke, but the rest of me reluctantly admitted that it explained
everything.
"But…how?"
"Cancer,"
John said. He gave a sardonic smile, "I might have been immune to
fire, but it turns out that all the smoke did the same to me as it
would to anyone else."
"How
long have you known?"
"I
don't know - maybe six months. I've got another couple of months
left, give or take."
"I…holy
shit, I'm sorry."
"Don't
be." He didn't look at all frightened of the fate that awaited
him. In fact he didn't look anything other than resigned, except
from faintly amused by my reaction.
I glanced across the dimly-lit room to where Cypher stood deep in conversation with a green-skinned mutant. Things that I hadn't noticed before suddenly became obvious – the tension in his stance, the faint background look of fear and desperation in his eyes. John followed my gaze and a brief expression of guilt flickered across his face.
"I don't know how I'd have coped without him," he said softly, "But it's really going to mess him up when I do die." There wasn't really anything I could say to that – I opted for an understanding silence instead. When the silence drew out uncomfortably, however, I felt compelled to say something.
"Can't
you get any sort of treatment?"
"Can't
afford it," John shrugged, "Besides, who'd help me? I'm a
criminal. Not exactly in the Top Ten Most Wanted any more, but even
so…"
"That's
not right."
"No
doubt society will be better off without me." Actually that was
probably true, but I felt it would be tactless to say so.
"I'd
be scared shitless," was what I opted to say instead.
"I
was at first," he admitted, "But now…well, it was gonna happen
eventually, wasn't it? I'd have liked more time, but…" He
shrugged.
I felt a surge of admiration mingled with surprise. Surprise for a start that I could admire someone who tried to kill me the last time we met. It was strange – the John I knew would have been furious, ready to lash out at the world in general for cutting short his life. He really had changed. In a way, our positions had been reversed. John had found love, and finally come to terms with himself. Everything I hadn't managed…funny the way things work out, isn't it?
Another awkward silence followed, and I decided it was time to make my excuses and leave. Suddenly I didn't feel like a night out any more. John raised his glass in a mocking salute as I left, and then turned back to the bar.
The street outside was almost deserted, the occasional lone figure drifting through the sodium glare of the streetlights. I walked quickly to my car, feeling rather shell-shocked. I was moving solely on auto-pilot by then. Turn the key, change gear, pull out of the parking space. I barely noticed the ride home…uneventful as always, I guess. Next thing I knew, I was parking the car rather haphazardly in the garage of the X-mansion.
Most of the older students – me, Rogue, Kitty – had stayed on to become teachers. Others just dropped by the mansion occasionally, much like Logan had once done. I found myself teaching Physics…and every time I entered a class, I was reminded painfully that the Professor had once taught that subject. Kitty was teaching English, and Rogue had taken over Jean's Biology classes. I could cope with the lessons, but I swear I will never get used to people calling me "Professor Drake".
I went up to my room and changed for bed. After an hour's tossing and turning, however, I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn't going to get any sleep. I got up and headed for the kitchen – the school's supply of mint-choc-chip ice cream was calling to me.
The kitchen was empty, but that probably wouldn't last for long. There was always someone in the kitchen, be it a kid who'd had a nightmare, or a teacher with too much on their mind. I was firmly in the latter category there. I was reminded strongly of the night the school was attacked, sitting at the kitchen island eating ice cream. Right on cue, someone walked in – not Logan this time, but Storm.
"Hello,
Bobby," she said with a tired smile, and set about making some
coffee.
"Good…"
I glanced at the clock, "…Morning, Storm."
"You
were home early tonight" she said, sitting opposite me with her mug
of coffee clutched in her hand, "Did something happen?" I tried
to think of an answer.
"I,
um…I don't know, I just didn't feel like a night out."
"Nothing
happened?"
"No,"
I lied. She stared at me for a little longer than was comfortable,
absently running a hand through her ivory hair.
"I'm
no telepath," she said eventually, "But I don't need to be to
tell that you're hiding something."
"I…" I argued with myself about whether or not I should tell her, but I won in the end; "I don't think I'm ready to talk about it. But I'll come and talk to you when I am." She nodded – not really satisfied, but accepting that as the best she was going to get. We talked of various trivial things until I finally decided it was time for bed. I said goodnight and trod the familiar path to my bedroom.
I thought I'd have trouble sleeping, but I was out like a light the second my head hit the pillow.