Warnings: Future Slash (Colt/Punk) AU setting, Profanity
Silence is not something Phil is used to, but it's almost exactly what he wakes up to, no rambling onslaught of the rest of humanity, just the quiet buzz of Scott's sleeping mind, the feeling of his hand still firmly clamped in Scott's own and this strange sensation of being almost entirely alone in his head. He tries to reach out with his gift, tries to find anyone else, the silence is too ominous for him to deal with, but he finds nothing, an empty hole where his talent should be. Panic descends over him. Maybe this had been a terrible idea, maybe he'd somehow managed to knock his talent offline, maybe Scott has somehow stolen it.
"Wake up." He twists awkwardly, managing to squirm onto his other side to face Scott. "Wake up." Scott groans vaguely and lets go of his hand.
"Urgh, what time is it?" He fumbles for his alarm clock, glaring at the clock's face. "Phil, the fuck? It's like three am." He yawns, scrubbing at his eyes. "Go back to sleep." He grabs Phil's hand once more, his thumb moving over the back of it. "I'll drive you into the city in a bit."
"Scott." Phil tugs at his hand, scowling at his friend when he doesn't let it go. "What've you done?" He's getting desperate, this silence is making him panic. 'Scott, where's my power?' He tries over their link, feels sleepy irritation from Scott, which makes him calm down a little, it's not gone entirely, it's just not working properly.
'It's right there. I just... There.' Whatever it was Scott had done is removed and the rest of the World comes flooding back, a tsunami washing over Phil all at once. He scrambles to keep himself together in face of the onslaught. "Shit... Phil? Phil... Fuck, fuck, fuck, wake up... Fuck opens your eyes." Scott hovering over him, shaking him is the next thing Phil is aware of, panic in his voice, fear oozing over their link. "Shit... I'm sorry, I didn't think." He rubs a hand over his face, staring down at Phil. "I just took the block off all at once, I didn't think about what would happen."
"Oww." Phil's head feels like it's stuffed with glass. "Block?" He moans, lying as still as possible, even breathing hurts. The buzz of humanity has settled down, is more manageable but his head is pounding.
"Uh... Okay, your brain is weird, but I've been looking at it when we talk." Scott looks guilty. It seems unlike Phil he has no qualms about using his gift on other talents to learn more about them. "Sorry... But I worked out the bits that are responsible for uh... Receiving, I guess... I just kind of turned them off so you could sleep." He smiles awkwardly, moving away to lie on his back once more, taking Phil's hand back in his. "I should have known that just switching them all on at once would be a bad idea." He laughs softly and turns to his side, his free hand strokes over Phil's forehead, some of the pain of the headache easing. "I'm sorry." He sounds so very sorry, as though he really had meant solely to help. "I should have told you."
"You went poking about in my head without my consent?" Phil closes his eyes, each gentle swipe of Scott's finger over his forehead takes a little more of the pain away, it's nice.
"Ha, well kind of, but it's like putting a bowl of candy in front of a kid and expecting them not to stuff their face." He laughs softly. "Better?" He asks, the pain in Phil's head is gone, entirely wiped away, even the low-level throb he always has isn't there, for the first time in forever there's no niggling pain in Phil's head. It feels strange but wonderful at the same time.
"I've not pried in your mind." Phil mutters indignant, but nodding slightly. His head is better, better than it's possibly ever been. The temptation is always there, the urge to pry, to lay each one of Scott's secrets bare but Phil's always resisted, has respected Scott's privacy, and had expected something of the same courtesy.
"Really? Man... Phil. You've way more self control than I do." He laughs, stroking Phil's eyebrow, something odd flitting through his eyes, and quickly snatches his hand away from Phil's face. "I'd not be able to resist a poke round in someone's head." He lies back on his side, and squeezes Phil's hand. "You can look, if you want to." He sounds uncomfortable with the idea, discomfort bleeds over their link.
"Matter isn't as revealing as mind." Phil mumbles, the dreams of the people around them pressing on his mind, loud and colourful, distracting in their vibrance. It's true enough, that there's nothing personal to be gained from understanding the mechanics of a talent, but knowing every little secret someone has is a different matter entirely. Scott laughs softly and nods, relief flooding over their link.
"True... I imagine it can't be all that much fun having everyone flinging everything at you all the time." His thumb still moving over the back of Phil's hand. The temptation to take him up on the offer to peek in his mind, to take just one piece of candy from the bowl is strong, but restraint is the one word Phil lives by, so he ignores it staunchly. "You wanna go to sleep again... Or I could drive you home now..." The link sends some strange nervousness, and the urge to check what the origin of it is incredibly appealing. Scott seems unsettled, despite how relaxed he looks lying on his back, resolutely staring up at the ceiling, his thumb moving over Phil's hand.
"I..." Phil yawns and closes his eyes. "I'm still tired." He says firmly, trying to settle on his back.
"Kay, you want me to... You know turn the sound down a little?" Phil decides then that must be what's wrong with his friend, he's worried about having switched off Phil's talent, worried how he would react. Honestly, it's not something Phil thought Scott would be able to do, but it's a useful skill, right up there with being able to take away headaches. If he had both of their powers, Phil's certain he'd be even more worthy of title of God.
"Please... But in the morning, don't just stop, slowly?" Phil squirms, he generally doesn't lie on his back to sleep, he's more likely to curl up on his side, but Scott's holding the wrong hand to let him turn his back easily. The volume of the omnipresent voices is turned down, fading to a quiet buzz, soothing, like static.
'That okay?' With every other voice muted, Scott's voice over their link sounds clearer, sharper, his emotions bleeding through more and more, the concern he has for Phil is astounding, and more than a little bewildering.
'Yeah... But it's weird. I've never been this alone in here before.' Phil laughs softly, giving up trying to get settled on his back and lying on his side facing Scott. 'It's weird.'
'I can imagine... Well actually, I really can't.' Scott laughs, squeezing Phil's hand again, but carefully not looking at him. 'I'll drive you in bout six? That okay?' More concern, the desire to get to the root of that concern is pressing and Phil's grateful he has his restraint or he'd be picking Scott's mind for answers.
'I'll let you see what it's like if you want. Six is good.' Phil yawns, his eyes closing, sleep creeping over him.
"Hey, wakey-wakey." Scott's hand shaking his shoulder wakes him up, the volume of the rest of humanity slowly getting louder and louder until it's at the normal babbling level. 'I do that better this time?'
'Yeah, yeah, better... What time is it?' Phil sits up, scrubbing at his eyes.
'Just after six. C'mon and I'll feed you before my parents get up, then we can get your ass back home.' Scott gets off the bed, his thoughts quietly buzzing in the corner of Phil's mind, loud but indistinct because Phil is carefully ignoring them. 'I've been thinking.' Scott glances over at him, and starts getting dressed in yesterday's clothes.
'I know... You never seem to stop doing that. You're like a fridge buzzing away.' Phil grabs his clothes from the floor by the bed, getting dressed under the covers quickly, then shuffling out from under them to pull his sneakers back on. Scott laughs at him and straightens the blankets on the bed.
'Sorry, but do people ever stop thinking?' He sounds interested enough in his question but abandons it in favour of opening the bedroom door, peeking out trying to judge if there's anyone likely to see them sneaking out.
'They're all asleep. Your brother has weird dreams, like hentai tentacle monsters weird.'
'Uff... I really don't need to know my brother's kinky sex dreams...' Scott audibly groans and waves Phil forward. 'Please don't tell me my parents are having sex dreams too.. I think there are things people can live without knowing.'
'You'd be surprised what you can live with knowing though.' Phil follows along behind him, laughing softly, but still scrubbing at his eyes. Being this well-rested feels strange, he can't actually recall a night's sleep that was this good before. Last night he's almost certain he had his own dreams, though it might have been Scott's seeing as he was in the dream too, but he can't say with any certainty if Scott would dream of winning the Stanley Cup, he's a football player not a hockey one. 'So you're feeding me?'
'Milk's in the fridge, cereals in here. I'm no chef man, but I can maybe do pop-tarts...' Scott pours out two bowls of cereal and accepts the milk from Phil, before setting the bowls down on the counter. 'So, like I was saying... I've been thinking about the subs.'
'Hmm?' Phil watches Scott carefully, he seems odd this morning, his mind buzzing louder than usual, but that might be because they're in closer proximity to each other.
'We can't make any decisions on this whole situation till we know more.' He says devouring his cereal efficiently, unlike Phil, who's carefully fishing it out of the milk, spoonful by spoonful, leaving his milk to be consumed last.
'Agreed. So this week we try and get something out of them?' Phil glances up from chasing the last bit of cereal from his bowl of milk, Scott's staring at him, something odd in his eyes, his thoughts less buzzing and more humming, quiet and gentle.
"Huh?" He shakes his head and smiles awkwardly at Phil. 'Yeah, question the fuckers.' He rubs the back of his neck, the awkwardly sheepish smile still on his face. 'How far in do I need to take you?' He takes his bowl over to sink and drops it in. Once he's finished drinking the milk from it, Phil adds his on top, and frowns.
"We should wash these..." He mutters glancing over at Scott, who shrugs, twirling car keys round his finger.
"My mom has teenagers, she's used to random bowls in the sink." He leads the way to the family car, opening the passenger side door with a curiously chivalrous flourish. "How far?" He asks again, starting the car and pulling out of the drive.
"The nearest subway's fine, I'm on the other side of town, you drive me you'll be late." Phil rubs his temples, the closer they get to the city the more voices press down on him, the silence of last night was at once a blessing and a curse it seems. Scott's fingers brush over his temple gently, the headache easing somewhat.
"Your brain's a fucking mess you know that, right?" He laughs, eyes never leaving the road.
"I know, I know. Thank you." Phil mutters closing his eyes.
"I'm guessing Advil doesn't help?" Scott laughs, turning off into the city proper, glancing at Phil from the corner of his eye, concern bleeding over their link.
"Nothing helps... It'-"
"Did I help?" Scott sounds worried, there's something bothering him and Phil's getting to the stage where courtesy can be damned, he wants to know what's wrong with his friend, because there's certainly something wrong with him.
"Yeah, yeah, you did." Phil pats his arm, a smile on his face, trying to send gratitude over their link. Scott nods but doesn't say anything, his thoughts back to the buzz, which Phil is almost disappointed over. The hum had been pleasant, almost melodic, and he misses it.
"Good, I..." Scott glances over at him and shakes his head. "Here okay?" He pulls over by a subway station.
"We need to talk to the subs." Phil says, folding his arms over his chest. "We need to get answers... Who they work for at least." He sighs. "Today, I have mine today, second... I'll try then."
"Practice, after school." Scott looks horribly pensive, but seems to snap out of his mood once Phil unbuckles the seat belt, his sheepish smile spreading over his face, and his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "Be careful, okay? You make me worry." He laughs, concern flooding the link between them. Phil laughs and opens the car door, pausing half way out.
"Worry bout yourself, Colton. I'll be fine." A grin on Phil's lips, gratitude and happiness forced over their link.
"Yeah, yeah, you scruffy punk, get out." Phil closes the door of the car and enters the subway, heading back towards his house, intending to shower and change before school, being late be damned. 'Phil... If you get something-'
'I'll keep you updated, don't worry. You free after school? We can meet, discuss strategy...' Phil's not sure why he's making this offer, it feels kind of desperate, like he wants to know he has an ally in this fight, because it feels like he's going into a fight, nervous butterflies fluttering round his stomach, that even the misery of a Monday morning pressing down him from every side can quell.
'The park with your birds?' The same before a fight feeling comes bleeding from Scott. At least this is something Phil's not alone in dreading; at least this is something that Scott isn't looking forward to as well.
'Sounds good. Later.'
'Yeah... Later... Phil? Be careful, okay?' Concern, that vast unending well of concern again. It's strange having someone so worried about him, but Phil supposes that's what friends do, worry, want you to be okay, only really, that's not what they do at all. Really, just finding out exactly what Scott wants from him would spare him so much trouble, would stop him from enjoying this having a friend nonsense, because at the end of the day, people mostly only care this much about themselves. Yet, the concern, the gentle touch that took away his pain, those things felt real, sincere. Phil shakes himself from such pointless thoughts, what Scott's motives are will be revealed in time, it's just a matter of waiting him out, and making use of his abilities to help Phil in the meantime.
'Yeah, you too.'
"Good morning, Mr Brooks. Nice of you to join us." Heyman smirks as Phil shuffles into the classroom. It was bad enough being late, but being late for this class was not something Phil wanted. He foolishly hoped his visit home would be quick, but his family had managed to delay him at every turn. In the end, he'd simply convinced them he wasn't there. The invisible man trick is one he's been working on. He's so rarely in the house, that it doesn't take much to convince them that they can't actually see him standing there. He thinks it's a fairly useful little skill to be developing. Heyman turns from Phil quickly enough, and continues teaching the class, droning on about something Phil barely registers, as he skulks to the back of the room. 'How is your dear friend this morning, Philip?'
'Fine.' Heyman laughs at him, still writing on the board, his attention unwavering in his role of being substitute English teacher, whilst Phil's scattered and flustered in the role of tardy student.
'Well, I'm glad you got some rest. You look better rested.' Heyman laughs again and Phil cringes. He's never had someone rifle through his mind the way Heyman just did, drawing memories up, little fleeting emotions, ghosts of physical sensations passing over him as the memories were relived. 'I imagine you're aware that you're due a detention for being late.'
'I know.' Phil closes his eyes, he can guess that Heyman will be in charge of his detention period, that he'll use it as an opportunity to try and persuade Phil that he needs this training of Heyman's.
'You're so very sceptical of my offer, Philip. Honestly... Wouldn't you like to be able to build a shield like mine?' Phil scowls down the classroom at the man, shields would be nice, but there's something off about this man, something that Phil just doesn't trust. He feels like flying a kite at night, just intrinsically unwholesome. The rest of the class Heyman leaves him be, the only contact they have is when he hands Phil his detention slip.
The school day passes quickly, far quicker than Phil wanted it to, Scott was utterly silent all day, the buzzing of his thoughts low and almost forgotten. It's far too soon for Phil's liking that he ends up alone in a classroom with Heyman once more.
"Well, Mr Brooks, you've had time to consider my offer... What do you say?" Heyman sits behind the teacher's desk, his fingers steepled, watching Phil carefully. No matter how much Phil tries to find a crack in Heyman's shields, there's nothing, only that infuriating smooth blankness, there's no way to see how sincere or duplicitous in this he is.
"I've not thought about it at all, sir." Phil shifts in his chair, uncomfortable under Heyman's eyes. "Even if I had, I don't know anything about you..." He squirms again, feeling like a butterfly pinned to a board under Heyman's calculating gaze.
"About me?" Heyman laughs and stands, sitting at the desk beside Phil. "I'm a simple man, an advocate really." He smiles, trying for friendly, but looking like a lion with his trainer's head in its mouth.
"An advocate for what? Look, Mr Heyman, sir." Phil stands, paces over to the wall covered with windows, feeling uncomfortable with Heyman so close to him. "I can't think about what you said because you didn't really say anything." Heyman smiles indulgently at him, like a kindly grandfather dealing with a particularly stupid child.
"Well, what questions do you have, Philip?" He smiles, pulling the chair beside him out, gesturing towards it.
"I'll stand." Phil shakes his head, glancing out the window, watching the students mill about, the cliques and gangs, all carefully not mingling. "Who do you work for?" The first question is important to Phil. He's considered this carefully, has considered the likelihood of who might want people with talents and what they might do with them. In no scenario, he's considered, has there been a good outcome. Heyman sighs, and comes over to stand by Phil, his hand resting on his shoulder.
"It's called Developmental." Heyman smiles awkward, the glass reflecting his face. "A training program for gifted children."
"Training for what?" Phil folds his arms over his chest, a scowl on his face. 'Developmental.' He sends to Scott, getting a note of surprise in return.
'Ooo, snap. Anything else?' Scott sounds frustrated, Phil gets the feeling he's probably having a similar conversation with his sub. He can only hope it's without the weird creepy undertones Heyman oozes.
"Training for using your power to its fullest potential." Heyman turns to look at Phil, his eyes narrowed. "You know it's rude to talk to someone else when you're already having a conversation." His lips twist into an unflattering scowl, making him look almost comically evil.
"Training to use it to its fullest potential for what reason?" Phil ignores his comment, pushing for a real answer to his question. Training is all good and well, but he needs to know the reason behind this gracious offer. No one does anything for free, there are strings attached to this, more than likely, lots of strings.
"Philip, I work for people who are concerned about your wellbeing, they only want what is best for you." Heyman turns to lean his back against the glass, his eyes closing, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose. "What you do with this training is your decision. There's options, several options for someone with your gift, but right now..." Heyman catches Phil's chin, forcing him to meet Heyman's eyes. "Right now, your only option is this." Phil tries to step back out of his grasp but it tightens. "Your only option is hiding amongst these average people. A life where you spend your time trying to stop yourself from getting lost, a life where you're constantly afraid, constantly tired, constantly trying to fit in."
"I don't try and fit in." Phil snaps, his hand clamping onto Heyman's wrist squeezing, trying to force him to move his hand.
"Philip, I'm stronger than you." It's a causal sounding observation, and Phil is more than certain that Heyman isn't talking about differences in physical strength, the subtle pressure in his mind, the increased volume of the voices, that's Heyman's doing. They get louder and louder, pressing on Phil from every side.
'Oh fuck...' He's no idea what he wants Scott to do, but before the world turns black Phil's last thought is to him.
He wakes up on the floor, Heyman crouching in front of him, eyes narrowed, a Kleenex in his hand.
"Your nose." He hands the tissue to Phil and stands, straightening his suit pants. "Like I said, Philip, you're strong for a child, but you need to be trained." Phil swipes the tissue under his nose, feeling the blood trickling from it, seeing the paper coming away with bright red streaks.
'Phil! Fuck, you okay? What the hell was that?' Scott's voice comes over the link, panic flooding it, whatever it was Heyman did, it affected Scott, or at least he knew something was happening to Phil, and is panicking over it.
'No shouting.' Phil sends him quietly over the link. The headache he woke up with this morning was nothing compared to this, it feels like his brain has been replaced with razor blades and broken glass, he feels fragile, shaky, like he wants to curl up in a ball and die for a little bit. Heyman looks down at him thoughtfully.
"Who are you talking to?" He asks, his eyes are narrowed making him look like some kind of over-grown rat.
"You don't know?" Phil is surprised; he'd have thought someone as powerful as Heyman would know, unless this is some kind of weird test or trick maybe.
"No, you don't shield yourself very well, but your conversational partner you've got locked up tighter than Fort Knox." Heyman laughs softly. "How's your head?" He sounds slightly sympathetic, offering a hand to help Phil up off the floor. Phil bats it away and struggles to stand, using the windowsill to help him to his feet. "Stubborn child." Heyman tsks.
"You just assaulted me." Phil dabs at his nose again, the blood still sluggishly trickling from it. Heyman laughs and shakes his head.
"Object lesson, Philip. You strike me as the type of boy who needs to be shown rather than told." Heyman's hand rests on his forehead, cool and clammy, the utter opposite of Scott's touch. "No permanent damage." Phil glares at him but endures Heyman's touch; his head hurts too much to consider moving quickly. "If you let us train you, you'll learn how to do that. You'll learn so much more, Philip. Do you really want to be one of them?" Heyman juts his chin in the direction of the window. "As you get older, you'll get stronger. Your power will only get stronger, and you'll lose more of yourself every day. Little by little, like a cliff being eroded by waves, till there's nothing but sand left." Heyman's finger trails down Phil's cheek as he speaks, his eyes staring into Phil's, the expression unerringly sober. "You'll die alone, afraid, lost in a sea of other people." Phil swallows heavily, as Heyman's hand cups his chin. "Unless you let me help you." Heyman presses a kiss to Phil's forehead and steps away.
"Where?" Phil croaks, wiping his forehead, the feeling of Heyman's touch lingering. "Where is your Developmental?"
"Kentucky." Heyman smiles as scowls at him. "We're recruiting here, so there's a temporary setup. You're talented Philip, there's a good chance you'd never have to go anywhere but the temporary place. Depending on how you apply yourself to your studies." Heyman's voice drops, his gaze flickering over Phil quickly.
"I wanna see this temporary setup." Phil clears his throat, pressing himself against the glass, wanting nothing more than to be away from Heyman, the expression on his face is one Phil is more used to seeing on late night train rides.
"Saturday morning, nine a.m. be here at the school, I'll take you." Heyman smiles genially and walks away from him, back to the teacher's desk, grabs a chalkboard eraser, and starts cleaning the board,
"I wanna take-"
"Your little friend? Scott? He's already coming, my colleague just informed me. Is he your little conversation partner?" Heyman laughs, and Phil nods, regretting it instantly, the action making the shattered glass of his brain rattle. "Good, good, then I will see you on Saturday, Philip." His back is turned resolutely, not watching as Phil sidles from the room, his steps carefully measured so as not to jar his brain, torn between wanting to shower and sleep.
Many thanks to the lovely Ladies and Gentlemen who reviewed:
shiki94, Rebellecherry, littleone1389, and Brokenspell77.
A little more on Heyman, and his undeniable sketchiness. Nothing too cute in this one, sorry!
This fic and I often fall out, we both know where we're going, both know the route we want to take, it's just getting it to fill the damn car and get on the road that's the problem... But exams are over, and I have more free time, so I'm hoping to get this out more regularly...
As ever trepidation haunts me with this fic... as such: Please leave a review, even if it's just "Hey, that didn't suck", I'd be so far and beyond grateful. Heck even if you thought it did suck, tell me too, something is better than nothing after all. :D