Part Fourteen

As the weeks progressed Bobby's behaviour grew no less confusing. A few times Jean Paul did let loose on him, shouting until his throat was sore. If there was anyone left in the mansion who wasn't aware they were a couple they had to be deaf. Probably because they'd crossed Jean Paul's path on one of the days when he hadn't fought with Bobby and suffered his misdirected rage.

Despite the rocky road they were treading, Jean Paul found himself far more content than he would have expected. Bobby could take the shouting without ever letting it progress into a real fight. More often then not he'd back down, apologise, and make some soft joke to lighten Jean Paul's mood. In fact, Jean Paul had never had to yell at him about the same thing twice.

He grimaced at the blackboard and he scratched chalk across it. It was true that he'd never raised the same point more than once, but every problem stemmed from a single cause: Bobby's erratic behaviour. He was running hot and cold like the showers first thing in the morning when there wasn't enough hot water for everyone. He would spend most mornings avoiding Jean Paul, and most afternoons wrapped around him. He hadn't spent a night yet, and Jean Paul wondered idly what the morning after would be like. How would Bobby cope with being utterly unable to avoid the reality of their relationship?

Jean Paul smiled at the last word he'd written. He'd missed that word, 'relationship', and it sounded even better when not accompanied by some word suggesting an absence of. Though it did look a bit odd in the middle of a sentence about security policies.

Merde.

Bobby stubbed his foot against a computer and scowled. He liked spending so much time with Hank, but he'd rather do it in pretty much any other room.

Actually, right now he didn't particularly like spending so much time with Hank. Too many negative connotations. Every time he saw Hank now he thought about death. Or being ice, permanently, which he considered to be a rather similar thing. People were commenting about how much time he was spending iced-up. Then he'd panic and nip into a closet or empty classroom and de-ice, just to make sure he could. It was like permanent heartburn.

He was iced now. As much as he hated it, he made the effort for Hank. Hank was permanently different. He'd said he'd rather not be but… Bobby didn't want to think about that. He needed Hank to be happy with himself, because otherwise there was no hope. It wasn't something they talked about, but they both thought about it a lot.

While Hank held up a test tube and squinted at it, Bobby decided to take a chance.

"Do you still think you're devolving?" he asked abruptly.

The silence was long.

"You do, don't you?" Bobby sighed. "I remember something Jean said about it. But I was kinda thinking about it, you know?"

"And what did you conclude?" Hank asked, voice strained.

"You're blue, Kurt's blue and for quite a while Warren was blue," Bobby said slowly.

A brief smile crossed Hank's face. "So you conclude the future of humanity is to be blue, with optional fur?"

"Well, yeah."

"It's a matter of natural selection, Bobby. In a million years or so, there may only be one form of mutant left. Nature is experimenting until it finds something that fits. Maybe everyone will be ice, or speedsters, or telepathic."

"Okay, I'm going to run some high school science by you. Correct me if I'm wrong anywhere."

"Certainly, my friend."

"So, the colour of something comes from the light it reflects, yeah?" Bobby puzzled through. "Like white stuff reflects all colours in the spectrum, and black absorbs it all, and blue absorbs the red end and reflects the blue end."

"Indeed." Hank had paused in his work and to Bobby's delight looked actually interested.

"UVA and UVB that cause tans and skin cancer and stuff are just past the blue end, right? And the hole in the ozone layer lets through way more of those frequencies."

"Correct…"

"So maybe humanity is evolving to be more resistant to them."

"By being blue," Hank finished for him.

"Have you tested to see if you reflect ultraviolet?"

"No," Hank admitted. "That's a very interesting idea, Bobby. Very interesting."

"Just leaving my legacy to science," Bobby shrugged, grinning despite himself. "That whole devolution thing is so much nonsense."

"Devolution?" Hank chuckled.

"Yeah. Evolving, evolution, devolving, devolution."

"Not… quite," Hank smiled at him.

"Made up the word?" Bobby laughed.

"No, it's a real word," Hank told him. "It just mean decentralization."

"Which means…" Bobby prompted.

"Never mind," Hank shook his head. "But thank you, Bobby."

"You talked to Kurt recently?" Bobby asked.

"Not specifically. Nothing you would call a conversation, I suppose. You?"

"No," Bobby shrugged awkwardly. "I was kinda a bastard to him a while back, accidentally, and I've been a bit iffy about approaching him since. Especially after… all that. How do you think he's coping?"

"How would you be?" Hank said seriously.

Bobby grimaced. "It's not just him. Everyone's got problems now. There's nothing I can do to cheer people up."

"You do more than that around here," Hank reminded him gently. "Don't fool yourself into thinking you are only comic relief."

"It's just as well, since I've really lost my edge recently," Bobby smiled grimly. "I'm avoiding everyone except you and Jean Paul, and hell, I'm avoiding him half the time as well."

"I noticed."

"I don't like that tone. You've gone all ominous."

"Have you told him what's going on?"

"How can I?"

"You can't keep it a secret forever. I can't."

Bobby slumped against the wall. "What can I do? I don't want to go around begging pity. Shit, Hank," he sighed. Bobby rarely swore, and Hank worried. "Just… shit. It's like our world's imploding. Life was so much easier when it was five of us against the world. Now it's half the world against the other half and we're expect to be figureheads for one side and lead everyone into the melee when we can't lead them out again alive. Most of the kids here aren't going to grow up to be X-men. They can't. We'd have an army, and then we'd have war."

Bobby didn't say any more as he stood himself up and left the lab, de-icing as he walked and leaving a trail of melt water. Hank was silent as well.

Jean Paul was preparing to drag Bobby out for a night. Since Bobby's secondary mutation had grown more fierce he'd been less willing to go out. He insisted that there was no point having coffee or food if he was iced up, and he was too uncomfortable de-iced. And apparently he Didn't Dance. So after a great deal of wheedling, begging, shouting and bargaining, Bobby had agreed to go to the theatre.

Annie had joined Jean Paul in his room while he was fussing with his tie. It wasn't the kind of theatre you needed to be dressed up for, but Jean Paul took a certain pleasure in it. It was something at one time he'd never thought he'd have the opportunity to do. At the time, he'd felt certain it was something he'd never want to do. He was passed that now, unwilling to deny himself what he wanted by clinging to principles that kept him close-minded.

"I wouldn't have thought Bobby was a theatre person," Annie commented.

"He will not go out to eat, he will not go out to dance, he will not go out to the cinema…" Jean Paul shook his head.

"Why not the cinema?" Annie asked.

"He is worried that in his ice form the light will pass through his head and distract everyone with rainbows," Jean Paul said wryly.

Annie laughed. "Oh, I'd love to see that. You should talking him into going to a club or something, in his ice form. He'd be beautiful. I wish I could see that."

"He is my boyfriend, and you are not seeing him naked, partially or otherwise, under any light," Jean Paul said firmly. "Help me with this, will you?" he gestured to the tie. "I can not seem to get it straight."

"You're so happy these days," Annie smiled at him. "You're practically a different person when things are going well."

"Yes, when," Jean Paul said dryly. "Sometimes he is - How would Bobby put it? - Sometimes Bobby can be a complete dick."

"You are what you eat," Annie joked. Finishing fussing with Jean Paul's tie she glanced up and froze. Note to self, she panicked, do not befriend people who terrify you and then piss them off.

A knock on the door interrupted the hideous silence. Before the door opened, Jean Paul stepped away from Annie and flashed her a cool smile.

"Funny," he said, in a voice without emotion.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I didn't mean to offend you."

His smile was a little warmer as he said, "I should not be offended. I would make such a joke in a similar situation."

"But you're gay, so you can," Annie sighed.

"But it shouldn't be so."

"Uh, hey," Bobby interrupted from the doorway. He was dressed smartly, but not as formally as Jean Paul. He looked on the verge of panic. Annie smiled at him.

"Don't worry, Jean Paul just likes dressing up," she reassured him. "You too have a great time, okay?"

As Annie left Jean Paul approached Bobby and gave him a light kiss on his frozen cheek. Bobby couldn't summon a smile.

"Look, Jean Paul…" Bobby sighed.

"You are not backing out on me again," Jean Paul said more sharply than he intended.

"No, I'm not," a lacklustre Bobby agreed. "I just want to warn you I'm in the kinda mood where, well, let's say if someone came up to me and told me they'd destroy the world unless I personally told them not to, I'd probably shrug and wander off."

Jean Paul swallowed, opening his mouth to talk without being certain what he was going to say. Before he could speak, though, Bobby interrupted him.

"We're going out, okay? I don't want to not go and then fight with you tomorrow because you feel I guilt tripped you into staying here."

Jean Paul kissed him gently on the lips, not caring that when he pulled away he lost a little skin from them. Bobby tilted his head up and leant in for a second kiss, de-icing as he did so. It was cool and very wet and Bobby gasped with pain into Jean Paul's mouth as he changed, but Jean Paul could feel the beat of love in his pulse and held his younger lover tightly.

"I do not want to fight with you either," Jean Paul embraced him. "What has put you in this mood? You were so cheerful this morning."

Bobby tucked his head under Jean Paul's chin and tried to pretend he wasn't on the verge of tears. "Maybe, after the play, we can go and get coffee," he said quietly.

"I thought you did not want to drink," Jean Paul said in confusion. "But, no, if you want to, we can do that," he added hastily.

"No, you're right," Bobby sighed. "Besides, it'll be real late." He kissed Jean Paul again and offered him a weak smile. "I'm lucky I've got you."

A lump formed in Jean Paul's throat. He tried to reply but found he couldn't force words passed it.

"Speaking of late," Bobby went on, apparently oblivious, "we ought to be going."

"Oui," Jean Paul spluttered. He grabbed Bobby's warm, human hand and squeezed it. For the first time Bobby didn't try to break away when they passed other people on their way out of the mansion.

Later, sitting in a box at the side of the theatre, Bobby slipped off his shoes and curled his legs under him, dragging Jean Paul's already drifting attention from the play and making him smile. Bobby was paying no more attention than he was, but unlike Jean Paul there was no warm smile touching his face.

Jean Paul put an arm around Bobby and let him rest his head on his shoulder. He pressed his nose into Bobby's hair for a second, breathing deeply and closing his eyes. He could tell from the short, shallow breaths that it was hurting Bobby to stay human, but he couldn't bring himself to suggest Bobby ice up. He wasn't sure how he would cope when Bobby was permanently ice. He'd already been thinking of ways around it. He had yet to visit the website Annie had suggested. The fact she hadn't been able to tell him the address for giggling had made him suspicious. That and it was called 'unusual dildoes dot com'.

"If you want to leave…" he murmured to Bobby.

"No, I'm fine," Bobby nuzzled closer. "Thank you." He tilted his head up and they shared a brief kiss. "You okay?"

"I am perfect," Jean Paul said warmly, squeezing Bobby to him. "I love you."

Bobby was absolutely silent, suddenly engrossed in the play. Jean Paul didn't notice, too involved in his own emotion. It never occurred to him that the feeling but not be truly mutual.