Warnings: Mild Slash (Colt/Punk, Hacksaw/Piper), AU setting, Profanity
The next day is painful, brutally painful. A day where over the link there's nothing but the quiet buzz of Scott's thoughts. No comments, no quips, no complaints, just the bleak silence of nothing. Phil knows that he could perhaps be the one to initiate contact. It'd be no great hardship to apologise for over-reacting to what was harmless teasing. It wouldn't be too difficult to explain how uncertain, how unsure he is, but he doesn't really know how to explain, at least not without sounding stupid, or childish. It's a ridiculous problem to have, but compared to Scott, he does feel like a child. Nothing more than an inexperienced child hesitantly stepping into a world populated by adults, a world where Scott already knows what he's doing, and whilst Phil has all the theory, he's got none of the practical experience. These things aren't difficult in theory at least, but practice and theory are so very different to one another. What it comes down to is not wanting to be embarrassed, not wanting to be humiliated or laughed at by someone he feels something for, and that's what he's worried Scott will do, laugh at him, rather than with him. So he spends the majority of the school day practicing the trick Heyman taught him, having jocks, and other people who have tried to make his school life hell, do humiliating or embarrassing things for his own amusement. By the end of the day, he thinks he has it down pretty well. It's a kind of cool trick, and learning it makes him unreasonably pleased. It doesn't make up for the silence from Scott, but it's something cool to show him when Phil's finally brave enough to try talking to him again.
After school, it was an easy enough decision to go to the park. Truly, he wanted Scott to be there, but there's a little part of him that's unsurprised to see the bench vacant. He sits down heavily, and considers the little birds that hop over hopefully, chirping cheerfully, as though welcoming him back, and eyeing the bag of bread sitting beside him.
'Where's the knight in shining armour?' Piper sits down, a heavy, tired air about him. Phil shrugs in response to the question. He's not really in the mood to deal with the old man, not really in the mood for anybody. He'd come hoping to see Scott, but Scott's not here. Not meeting him for one day seems to mean he feels justified in not being there the next. Maybe the link is silent because he's tired of Phil and his shit. He really doesn't get anything out of their thing, nothing other than Phil's gratitude. Yet there has to be more to it, because you don't kiss someone, touch them the way Scott touched him just because they're grateful to you, or at least you shouldn't because the truth is, people do, they do all the time. That doesn't stop Phil from hoping Scott's not like other people though. "You two have a fight?" Piper sounds mildly concerned, and Phil shrugs again. A fight isn't what happened in the least, but they're nowhere near on the same page, he's not even sure they're in the same library, nevermind the same book even. "Kid, you gonna actually talk to me?" He sounds kind of put out, and Phil can't help but think that he didn't ask Piper to show up, didn't ask for him to sit down on the bench and start asking stupid questions.
"I met Heyman yesterday." The change in subject is abrupt, but he doesn't want to talk about Scott, not with Piper, not with anyone other than the man himself really. A spike of surprise bleeds from Piper, and Phil glances at him out of the corner of his eye. The old man looks suddenly very tired, so utterly unlike the way Heyman had looked at the mention of Piper.
"You know, Heyman... He's..." Piper sighs, and scrubs a hand over his face, frowning down at the birds. "He's not a bad guy, just pragmatic. Honestly, all of us who survive are, kid." Phil shrugs, and grabs some bread from the bag, throwing it down for the birds, watching them fight, and squabble.
"Pragmatic? How?" Phil throws more bread to them, and the sparrows keep pecking at it, reducing it to tiny, little pieces. He thinks he can almost identify with the bread, in as much as anyone can identify with baked products, he feels pecked, broken down into tiny pieces.
"Survival is really all any of us telepaths are focused on... It's a grim life when you don't have an anchor, it's... You're lucky, you found one so quickly." Piper fidgets beside Phil, squirming uncomfortably. "Some of us, most of us... We ain't so lucky." He grabs a handful of bread from the bag and starts tossing it down to the ground, one small piece at a time.
"Why's it lucky? The way you talk... Sounds to me like you did fine without an anchor, and you said Heyman's been through a few of them." Phil frowns, if there's a way to do without Scott, if he's less dependent, then he might feel happier in his dependency, if he knows he can manage without an anchor, it might be easier to be lost and bewildered over having Scott.
"There are ways... Ways to survive without having an anchor. They're not fun, but it is possible." Piper doesn't look up, his eyes have a strange distant look in them as he focuses on the birds.
"Tell me." Phil turns to face him, watching a grimace pass over Piper's face. He doesn't look like this is a conversation he wants to have, he doesn't look like this is something he wants Phil to know at all.
"Why?" He still doesn't look up; instead, he keeps his eyes trained on the little brown birds. Phil watches the sparrows demolish each little piece of bread Piper tosses to them, watches as they fight for the rights to devour it, feeling oddly sympathetic towards the bread.
"Because..." 'He'll get tired of me... There's no way he'll stick around once he's bored.' Phil picks up a single rough cube of bread and rips it into smaller pieces, tossing what is essentially crumbs down to the birds, wincing as Piper laughs at him.
"Clueless little punk." He snorts with laughter again, and Phil winces once more. Those were the exact words Scott had said to him Saturday night, words he'd murmured to Phil as he'd touched him, as Scott's hands had stroked over Phil's skin, touching him like he was invaluable. 'Focus kid.' Piper laughs, and Phil sighs, glancing away, watching a lone jogger go past, scaring the sparrows, and feeling painfully embarrassed. 'Without an anchor... A lot of people turn to outside influences to dull the voices.' A frown settles on Piper's face, and he starts wringing his hands slightly. Phil gets the distinct impression that Piper has tried many different means to dull the voices. 'There's only so much that can help, so some people choose to get lost, it's... Easier that way.'
'Why?' Phil rests his heels on the bench, hugging his legs close to his chest. He can't ever see the appeal of getting lost, the very idea of being lost terrifies him, the thought of willingly choosing to let your mind wander scares him far more than anything else, and that there are people who choose that willingly bewilders him.
"Why?" Piper snorts in amusement, and grins at Phil. "Because... There's a very fine line between sanity and madness... Be glad you've found your anchor." He ruffles Phil's hair, and stands, a fond look on his face. "C'mon, I'll feed you."
The pizza place they end up in is far more comfortable than the expensive restaurant he ate in with Heyman. The casual way in which Piper pulls the same tricks Phil does, talking, charming, skipping the payment, is more familiar, more comfortable, than the way Heyman dealt with servers, perhaps not as useful in the long term, but more familiar, less invasive to the normal person. The difference between Heyman and Piper is more than apparent to Phil, and he's not sure which he sees more of himself in, but he's certain which he'd rather be like.
"So you had a little meeting with Paul yesterday?" Piper seems distracted, distant, his shields firmly up, so Phil can't check, but the odd distant look in his eyes suggests that he's not fully invested in talking to Phil at that moment. It's a guess, but Phil would say Piper was chatting with his biopath, and it feels like a snub.
"It's rude to have two conversations at once. Finish up with your biopath." Phil takes a bite of his pizza, and feels mildly sick; that sounded far too much like something Heyman would say for his comfort. Piper snorts a laugh, but doesn't make any further comment, a little frown on his face.
'Stupid children...' He mutters, a random stray thought that Phil's almost certain he wasn't supposed to pick up on. "Sorry, Hack's... He's... He's a good guy but sometimes..." Piper rolls his eyes, then starts eating, a fond look in his eyes, and a soft smile on his lips.
"Hack? Odd name isn't it?" It sounds like a strange codename more than anything else to Phil, and Piper laughs, rubbing at the back of his neck
"Meh... Not important." He shrugs, eating quickly, mostly ignoring Phil. "So, Heyman." He seems more invested in finding out about Heyman now that's he's eaten, but really, Phil isn't too sure there's anything worthwhile telling someone he doesn't trust. He should talk to Scott about this before anyone else.
"He taught me a little trick, and took me to his warehouse." Blurting things out is getting to be a problem, Phil thinks, sipping as his pop, and wishing he'd thought what he'd said through more carefully.
"Well, Heyman's a damn good teacher." Piper smiles, it's almost a fond expression, almost something like a proud father would wear, and Phil frowns, wondering what exactly the relationship between the two telepaths is. "The warehouse... Did you meet any of the kids?" Phil nods slightly, and Piper sits up straighter, looking incredibly interested. "Which one?"
"I... The one with mind from hell." Phil mutters, in his mind he can see that little boy staring at him, can feel those pale eyes watching him, can see madness in those eyes, can imagine the pain of ruined skin on his arm, pain that the kid said he didn't feel. Those wounds, those horrible, brutal wounds, he had to have suffered greatly. The brain can block out terrible pain, that must have been what happened. The other two children he's seen, heard being tortured, but he'd not seen anything that could have caused the damage to that little arm. The way the kid from the cell had calmly commented on it, how he said he doesn't feel pain. Surely if a child doesn't feel pain, there'd be no need to keep testing just how much he doesn't feel pain, there's no need for him arm to have been brutalised the way it was.
"Mind from hell?" Piper frowns, his eyebrows knit, and he stares at Phil. "There's a shifter, a sequencer, and an Eleven A... I don't know what you mean."
"That makes two of us." Phil sighs, fidgeting slightly, sending the request for a refill to the waitress. "What the hell are those three things?"
"Ah, course, you won't know what we call anything. Okay, a shifter is someone who can change their physical form."
"Like Clayface?" Phil takes the new cup from the waitress, and Piper glances at her, then at Phil, his eyebrow raised. 'The trick Heyman showed me.' He shrugs, and Piper laughs, shaking his head.
"Something like that, the shifter is the oldest of the three, long black hair." Phil nods vaguely at Piper, the first kid strapped to the table, that kid's able to change his body, he supposes that's why Lesnar called him a kitty-cat, he must take on the form of a feline for whatever it was Lesnar was going to do with him.
"So what's a sequencer?" The name isn't giving anything away really, he's no idea what it could be all, shifter, Phil thinks, sounds kind of self-explanatory, but this one, he's got no clue, and an Eleven A just sounds like they'd run out of cool names, if he's honest.
"There are two types of pre-cogs, a visionary, and a sequencer." Piper rubs his temples, looking stressed, and tired.
"A visionary has visions, I'm guessing?" Heyman's words on the future lingers in Phil's mind, unreliable, working towards to visions of the future is impossible because every action changes the future. 'A sequencer can plan out how to get to somewhere, right? Every outcome, every action and how it'll affect the future. That's the one you both want, isn't it?' Phil watches resignation come over Piper's face, watches as the man nods miserably, exhaustion bleeding from him.
"We need to make sure that kid is kept safe, he's important." He sounds tired, looks even more tired.
"What's he look like?" Knowing which power goes with which of the boys will be useful, if only for Phil's peace of mind, and maybe the rescue plan.
"Odd little thing, something happened to his hair, half-"
"Of its blond? So the last one, this Eleven A thing, what's that?" So this is what the kid in the cell is, whatever an Eleven A is that's what this kid can do.
"They don't feel, well physical sensations at least, though there's some speculation it might go further, but there's not many of them... Almost as rare as we are really." Piper laughs, and Phil frowns.
"But there's plenty of sequencers?" Piper had said that kid was important, but not that he was rare, not that he was vital.
"They're not uncommon, but a good one, a reliable one... Those are rare. This kid is young, but he's pretty well proven." Piper fidgets, and frowns. "So which one has the mind from hell? Sequencers aren't fun to deal with, too fucking busy by half, but I wouldn't say hell."
"It was the last one... Eleven A?" Phil frowns, the sequencer's mind had been fine, it hadn't been too bad at all really, he'd not gone poking around, but it'd seemed fine to him, pretty straight forward really.
"Ha, c'mon kid, you think I'm an idiot?" Piper laughs, downing his drink, a smile on his face. "No one can get into the mind of that kid, it's like a mirror." The expression on Piper's face changes suddenly. 'Jesus... You... Fucking hell, kid.' Phil stares back at Piper, feeling pathetically small under the old man's assessing gaze. 'No wonder...'
"What?" Phil's watches as Piper seems to startle himself out of his revere. His eyes wide, fixated on Phil's face.
"You're gonna cause a whole fucking heap of problems for some fucker, you know that." The old man laughs, and stands. "Go home, kid. Get some rest... Tomorrow, I'll meet you on your bench. I think it's probably long past time someone taught you what the fuck to do with all that raw talent you've got."
The second night in his own bed in a row, and Phil feels restless, his mind is buzzing with the thoughts from everyone around him. No matter how hard he tries he can't focus, can't find it in himself to think on the many topics he needs to, every time he tries, they dance out of his reach and behind someone else's thoughts.
'Scott...' He's not sure what he wants to say, but he wants to hear something from the other side of the link, something but the quiet, barely audible buzz. He wants Scott presence, wants to feel closer to him in some small way.
'Phil?' Scott sounds distracted, distant, as though he's focussed on something else. 'What's wrong?' Phil rubs his eyes, and sighs, the people around him seem to be growing louder, it's taking an incredible amount of self-control to not try to shut them up, self-control he can feel slipping with every passing second.
'Nothing... I...' He really has no idea what to say, no idea how to continue this almost beginning of a conversation.
'You doing okay? How's home?' Whatever had been holding Scott's attention appears to have been abandoned, but he still sounds wrong, like something's missing and Phil can't begin to even guess at what he thinks he isn't hearing in Scott's voice.
'I'm okay.' Lying is terrible habit, but he doesn't want to worry Scott, and that's when he realises what's missing. There's no concern, no worry, the link is completely free from feelings even vaguely resembling the usual omnipresent concern. It really does seem like Scott isn't as worried about him as he'd always assumed. There's a horrid little burst of pain in Phil that he desperately hopes doesn't seep through the link at this realisation, he doesn't want Scott to know how easily he can be hurt, how easily Phil can be wounded by him.
'Phil...' The silence that follows has Phil fidgeting, he can picture the expression he thinks would be on Scott's face, but there's nothing from the link. He lies on his bed, waiting; waiting for Scott to say something, anything but nothing comes. He's all but given hope when in very small, very soft voice Scott whispers. 'I miss you.' He's no idea what to say to that, no idea how to respond, so he doesn't. It's perhaps selfish, and cruel, but he's no words for to offer. He misses Scott too, and staying away is feeling more and more stupid, but he can't find it in himself to tell him. So he lies there, in bed, alone, and listens to Scott's sleeping mind buzzing away quietly.
'Sorry I'm late, kid.' Phil nods vaguely as Piper sits down on the bench by him. All day at school, he'd been distracted by his thoughts. He might not have been able to think for a single second last night, but during the day, his mind had been focussed and clear. Piper has offered to give him some training, and that's good, beyond good, it's great, having better control of his gift is paramount really. The mess with Scott, Phil's decided, has to be resolved. No matter what, he's going to visit him Saturday, and they're going to talk about this whole thing. He's tired of not having a handle on their relationship, he wants a definition, he wants to know what Scott gets out of the whole deal, and he wants to sleep, wants the safe, comfortable silence Scott can give him, but resolution to the problem is the most important thing in this. If Scott wants a real relationship, he's going to have to deal with the fact that Phil has no idea what he's doing, he's a total novice when it comes to them, so Scott's going to have to be in charge. If he doesn't, then Phil's going to have to deal with his crush quickly and in private.
'S'okay, not doing anything else.' Phil laughs, and Piper shakes his head, before handing Phil a cup of coffee.
"Here, you strike me as a coffee drinker, kid." The old man smiles cheerfully, and sips at his own cup. "So, I get the feeling we're not going to get much of anything done till we have a conversation." Phil turns to him, confusion on his face, and Piper laughs. "I know you're dying to ask, so go ahead."
"Ask what?" There's plenty Phil wants to ask, but he's not certain he's got any burning questions he's comfortable just blurting out.
"You're in a mood with the knight in shining armour." Piper laughs, a smirk on his face, as Phil sits gawping at him, feeling a blush on cheeks.
"I... I'm..." Piper looks at him, one eyebrow raised. There's no arguing with Piper's expression. "Maybe... A little..." Phil concedes, and glances away, down to his birds, their little buzzing minds reminding him of the kid in the cell. "What do they get out of it?" His voice is quiet, so painfully quiet he almost has to strain to hear himself.
"Us." Piper laughs. "I know sounds like a bad deal, but they get plenty..." Piper laughs again, finishing his coffee, a rather childish grin on his face. "We're pretty much fucked without them, but really they are too."
"How?" That a biopath needs a telepath comes a relief, but really, Phil can't see how, it's not like Scott has any major debilitating problems, not in the brutally obvious way that Phil does at least.
"Control... It's all about control." Piper's grin hasn't wavered, whatever he means amuses him vastly if nothing else it seems.
"Control, how?" Phil sighs, he gets the feeling Piper is going to either force him to guess, or he's going to explain in drips and drops, rather than just telling Phil what he wants to know.
"Biopaths have a bad habit of losing control over their power, and getting a bit... Homicidal." Piper rubs the back of his neck, the gesture instantly making Phil think of Scott. "We... Calm them down." Piper smiles slightly. "They stop us going crazy... We stop them accidentally killing people, it's a good deal, right?" He laughs, and Phil nods vaguely. Control, that's why a biopath's mind is so neat, so orderly, so organised, it has to be, their entire gift is reliant on them being in control at all times. 'Whatever your issue is with the knight in shining armour is, don't stay away from him too long. He's got you now, you're his... They're possessive bastards.' Piper tosses his empty cup in the trash and smiles over at Phil.
"Even Lesnar?" He can't imagine Lesnar being all that attached to Heyman, can't imagine Heyman being all that attached in turn.
"Ah... Well, like I said, not everyone falls in love, kid." Piper stands, waiting for Phil to follow him. Piper seems stuck on the idea that Phil loves Scott, and maybe that is the case, he certainly feels something more than friendship for Scott.
That night Phil doesn't even bother going home, he ends up in a church, playing god, and trying to get his brain back in order. Piper pushed him hard, pushed his control, pushed his power, seemed to take great delight in forcing Phil to push himself to the limits of what he can do. It was tiring, and there's at least two more days of it to go. It feels like Piper is trying to cram as much into his head as possible, and honestly he can't say he minds, he needs this training, needs it badly enough to suffer for it.
'Phil?' Scott's voice is soft, so soft and quiet, and it feels like a balm to Phil's exhausted mind. He wants almost nothing more than to feel Scott's fingers stroking over his brow, soothing his pain away.
'Hey...' He's almost too tired to be able to offer an answer, but there's a part of him that's worried Scott will go back to ignoring him if he doesn't say something in response. 'Scott...'
'Uh-huh?' He sounds wonderfully eager, like he's waiting with high hopes for what Phil's going to say, and he thinks it's going to be a disappointment.
'Will you talk to me? Tell me bout your day?' There's a spike of surprise over the link, and finally more of Scott's concern. Phil hadn't realised just how much he'd missed that concern until he was denied it, having it back is something he's so grateful for.
'Where are you? Come home, Phil.' Scott sounds utterly beside himself with worry. It shouldn't but it makes Phil laughs softly, warm syrupy feelings filling him, wrapping round his mind like a blanket.
'I need some more time... I just need a little more time on my own. Talk to me... Please.' He sounds pitiful, he knows he does, but there's nothing he can do about it, and that glorious concern floods the link.
'You get till the weekend, my scruffy little punk, then I'm coming to get you.' Scott says shortly, and a shiver works its way through Phil at the word my. Scott starts rambling, and Phil lets himself drift along to the sound of his voice, smiling like a dork, Scott's voice tinged with greedy hungry as he laid claim to him ringing in his ears.
Training with Piper's been good, but by the time Friday rolls around, Phil's brain feels like it's stuffed with cotton. He's learnt a lot, so very much, and all of it, he knows will help against Heyman. The lessons on shielding definitely. Yet, it's been far too long since he's survived on nothing but the odd half sleep of before he had Scott. After he fucks up a simple task three times in a row, Piper huffs in frustration, and scowls over at him.
"Kid..." Piper stares at Phil, his face set in a look of concern. 'You need to get some sleep.' Phil's head bobs slightly, he knows he needs to sleep, knows this better than anyone. Training is tiring, school is tiring, trying to ignore the ache in his chest at the continued distance he's keeping from Scott is tiring. "C'mon, it's like you're not even trying today." Phil nods again, his eyes feel horribly gritty, he wants a good night's sleep, he wants to fall asleep with his hand held in Scott's, even better with him held by Scott, cradled against his friend's warm, broad chest, safe and comfortable.
"I'm tired." Phil's slightly surprised how miserable he sounds, miserable and tired, like the weight of the World is crushing him, which to be fair it kind of is, every voice around them sounds louder than normal.
"C'mon, we'll call it quits for the day." Piper stands, and hauls Phil to his feet. "Come crash with us, I'll get Hack to put a block up for you." Piper's car is as ramshackle and beat up as Phil was expecting. If there's one thing he's learnt about Piper in the time he's spent with the man, it's that he's a cheap bastard.
The motel they pull up to looks like something out of a crime drama, like somewhere in one of the rooms, someone's cooking meth. A quick scan of the place confirms that no fewer than three of the little chalet-like rooms are filled with narcotics chefs.
"This one." Piper opens the door to one of the buildings, and ushers Phil over to the bed. "Sit down before you fall over, kid." Phil flops on the bed, surprised that it smells as clean as it does. "We're in the room next door, kay? Here's the key for your room." The key lands beside Phil, and he puts it on the little nightstand, closing his eyes. He's not sure he relishes the idea of borrowing Piper's biopath, but he needs to sleep, needs it more than he's uncomfortable with the idea of someone other than Scott guarding his sleep. Piper's standing by the door, watching Phil with an odd expression on his face, his eyes slightly distant, when a tall, well-built man appears behind him, his too long hair tied back in a ponytail.
"What?" He stands behind Piper, close enough to be touching, close enough that all Phil can think of is holding Scott's hand, or at least having him that close. Phil watches the biopath frown, and then shrug. He comes over to the bed, where Phil's lying sprawled out. "All of you fuckers are messy sleepers, then... I thought it was just that one." He jerks his chin at Piper, and the old man snorts a laugh.
"Just put a block up for him, Hack." Piper turns and leaves. 'Right next door if you need anything, kid.'
'Yeah... Piper? Thank you.' Phil closes his eyes and lies still, waiting for whatever it is Piper's biopath is going to do to happen. There's a sudden sting of mild pain as Hacksaw flicks him on the forehead, and sleep overcomes Phil.
Many thanks to the lovely Ladies and Gentlemen who reviewed:
littleone1389, shiki94, Rebellecherry, Brokenspell77.
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