Building Neptune

Chapter 5: "Hauling Out from the High Seas"

"Why am I coming here?"

Jean sighed. "Cal, you've had a traumatic experience. You killed someone, albeit unintentionally. That alone would warrant some sessions. On top of that, you have what seems to be a long history of abuse. You need to figure out why you've fallen into these situations and how to deal with them."

He slouched against the couch cushions. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?"

He huffed, not sure what she wanted to hear. "It was like…he saved me."

She watched him carefully. She was always watching him carefully. "From what?"

"From how I'd been living." Jean waited for him to continue, so after a moment, he did. "I was thirteen when I started living on my own, Jean. How do you think I got by?"

"Are you saying you were selling yourself?"

He laughed bitterly. "It doesn't work like that. I was letting myself be sold."

Jean nodded, expression neutral, non-judgmental. "You had a pimp?"

"Yeah." He fidgeted with his shirt sleeves. "He caught me my first night out, trying to sell it myself on his turf. I didn't know how it really worked." He swallowed hard. "He kicked the shit out of me. Told me I was his property now, I'd work when he told me to, and I'd bring him seventy percent."

"And you stayed with him?"

Cal gave her a pleading look. "It doesn't work like that. You aren't in charge. You're not a kid. You're not even a person. You're income. These guys have guns and power and they don't give a shit who gets hurt. You can be good and sell it by yourself or…"

She waited for him to continue before prompting him. "Or what, Cal?"

He fidgeted for another moment. "Or you end up in a room somewhere, full of guys." His voice went soft. "And...they do whatever they want. And you lay there. And you take it. And if you're lucky, you pass out sooner rather than later." He pressed his sleeve to his good eye quickly and cleared his throat. "So you do what you're told, okay? You do whatever he tells you to do."

Jean leaned forward, placed her hand over his and squeezed gently. There was nothing she could say. "How long did you live like that?"

"Two and a half years." He smiled softly. "And then Matt came."

xxxxx

Bobby loaned him some sweats. Scott had brought Cal's things from his and Matt's apartment, but his pants were generally selected because of how they made his ass look, not how much movement they allowed. Once they had "suited up," as Bobby called it (and Cal thought that was cute in a totally condescending way), they took the elevator down to the lower levels and headed for the Danger Room.

"So do you have a mutant name?" Bobby opened the Danger Room doors with a swipe card.

"Like what, Magneto? I thought that was just for fanatics."

"No, it's sort of a rite of passage, you know? It's about embracing your identity. Plus, it's useful on the field—gives you some anonymity."

"I guess. I just never thought about it much. What's yours?"

"Iceman."

Cal gave a slightly pained smile. "Cool?"

"I know, it's not very creative. I picked it when I was fourteen. You should think of one."

"Well, no offense, but if I do, it sure as hell won't be Waterman." He leaned against the control panel while Bobby swiped his card again to start the computer up.

"We'll start out nice and easy, so you can get a feel for it, and because you're still busted up." Cal rolled his good eye. "Okay, we'll both go against the computer. Let's put ourselves near a water source, and our enemies will be minimally armed." He punched a few buttons and stepped back from the controls.

"So it's all, like, holograms or something?"

"Or something. It's all fake, but you can still get knocked around pretty good in there. I know your ribs are still healing. Take it easy and you let me know if you need out, okay?"

"I'm sure I'll be fine." He followed Bobby through the sliding door beside the controls and into a large, white and gray room.

"Computer, initiate sequence," Bobby called.

The room seemed to quiver for a moment before morphing completely. Suddenly, they stood on a windy shoreline, just in front of a dock. A boat was tethered to the end and two more were approaching. A digital voice came on the intercom. "Objective: subdue enemies, procure the red flag."

Bobby stepped close to his side and murmured, "It'll probably be on one of the later boats. Just keep knocking them down until we can get to them."

"Let's get to it. Keep on my left if you can, alright? I've got a pretty big blind spot." He held out a hand, churning the water under the dock, making it sway slightly. Muscular men started climbing out of the docked boat—all humans, it seemed. With a flick of his fingers, a wave rushed up over the side of the dock, knocking the first few off their feet. He started down the dock.

"I'll go around from the other side." Bobby made an ice slide for himself that went off the left side of the dock and around by the boat.

A man on the dock pulled out a handgun and fired a few shots at the ice slide, cracking it and nearly sending Bobby into the water. Cal immediately sent a wave over the side of the boat, knocking the man into the sea. He churned the waves over him, keeping him under.

"Cal! Only subdue! We don't kill if we don't have to!"

"He was shooting at us!"

"Doesn't matter! Let him up!" A man managed to fight his way through the water surging over the dock and made a lunge from Cal's left, knocking him onto the dock, his upper half hanging over the side. Sharp pain surged through his ribs. He brought the ocean surging over the both of them, trying to wash the attacker off, but he had a good grip on the boy's shirt.

Just as he was about to call for help, he felt cold swoop past his face and the man cried out, pulling off Cal and reaching down for his frozen legs. Cal managed to twist away, climbing from the dock to one of Bobby's ice slides. The first boat was nearly empty, but the second had just arrived, three more shooters on the side. "Bobby!" Cal brought a vertical sheet of water up between them and the boat, and it froze in place. Bobby grinned at him, this All-American Boy Scout sort of grin, and it was weird, but it didn't make Cal feel out of place.

The second boat went down a bit more easily, and they managed to board it long enough to know that the flag wasn't on it. Under Cal's guidance, the water brought the third boat careening into theirs, and Bobby froze the two boats together so they could board. Two guns appeared from the left side of the boat. With an extension of his hand, Bobby froze them both, along with their owners' hands. He hurried off to knock the both of them out while Cal went right to search for the flag. He rounded around the other side of the boat when a third man came out of a door behind him, from below deck. He caught the boy around his neck, growling in his ear, "Well look what we have here, pretty boy."

The man's chest was pressed against his back.

Matt's hands were on his hips.

No, he needed to get the water up, over the deck. The waves started churning. "Causing trouble, aren't we?" The man snickered, his arm tightening around his neck.

Matt's hands were on his belt. His breath was on the back of his neck.

No, don't freeze. Focus.

Matt. "Street urchin whore."

He was shaking. Fucking shaking.

"Cal!"

"Callie-baby…"

"Cal! Use your powers!" Bobby stood in front of him, confused.

"…show you who you belong to…"

He felt that cold brush past his side again, and the man backed off. Bobby charged past and gave the guy a solid right hook. "Computer, end sequence!"

They were back in the white room. Cal still hadn't moved from where he was standing. He felt sick. A hand on his shoulder, he vaguely registered Bobby standing in front of him. "Are you alright?"

He blinked, swallowed, tried to find a voice. He managed to nod. His ribs ached. He felt pathetic.

Bobby smiled. "Hey, it's fine, okay? We did pretty well." He wrapped his arm loosely around Cal's shoulders and guided him to the door. "It's probably getting late anyway. We should get to bed." It was obvious that he was just trying to play it off and break the awkwardness, so Cal didn't feel so embarrassed. Oddly, it was working.

xxxx

By the time they got back to their room, Cal started to feel like he could breathe again. He watched Bobby tug off his shirt before remembering to give him privacy. He turned to face his side of the room, pulling his own clothes off sluggishly. He opened one of the bags Scott had brought for him, pulling out a fresh pair of briefs first and putting them on. He fished around for a t-shirt, pulled one out, and froze. Of course Scott wouldn't have known which clothes were his and which were Matt's. He and Matt hadn't even known sometimes—they shared often enough. The t-shirt was a bit larger than one of Cal's, black with "NYU" on the front in white letters. He'd seen Matt wearing it just a few weeks earlier, stretched out on the couch with an MCAT study guide balanced on his knees and a pencil eraser between his lips. Cal's hand trembled and he heard himself start to cry. The salt stung in his bad eye.

"Hey," he heard behind him. Bobby's voice was soft and low. "What's going on?"

And now he really felt like a moron, standing there in his underpants crying over a fucking piece of clothing. He dropped it and sat on the edge of his bed, head in his hands. "It's not my shirt."

He didn't see Bobby's look of confusion, but he knew it was there.

"It's my boyfriend's," he said. "Or, was my boyfriend's." He peeked over his hands. "He's dead."

Bobby's expression softened. Their eyes both had that unnatural glow about them, but Bobby's were sweeter than his, baby blue. "I'm sorry." He hesitated, and then crouched down in front of Cal's bag, digging for a moment before procuring another t-shirt, plain and purple. "Is this one yours?"

Cal sniffled and wiped at his good eye with the back of his hand. "Yeah. Thanks."

Bobby handed it over with a kind smile. "No problem."

He tugged the t-shirt on over his head. "Sorry I keep freaking out."

"Don't worry about it. We'll try the Danger Room again sometime, alright?" Bobby stood up slowly and walked back to his side of the room.

Cal watched him, then stood up and headed for the bathroom to wash his face. He paused in the doorway. Bobby was sliding into bed. "Goodnight, Bobby."

Bobby smiled at him. "Goodnight, Cal."