Bobnap chapter 2: Betrayal at Baker Mansion

[Bobby Drake]

(( OOC: Yeah, I know, but I couldn't resist the title. ))

Bobby hesitates for a moment outside the Baker Mansion gates. He hasn’t been here since… geez, since the night he and John and Marie and Josh spent the night, or tried to. The night he and Josh had almost killed themselves sneaking out of the Institute.

God, we were stupid back then. He remembers the shooting star he saw that night, standing more or less in this spot… he remembers the wishes he made. To learn to control his powers… to become an X-Man… to lead field missions. Every single one of them has come true. Should’ve thought to wish for… I dunno. Everything else. He feels perversely guilty about that, as if everything would have been different if he’d wished for something else, absurd as that is.

He shakes free of the melancholy… he’s on a date, after all. And not just any date…this is the first one John set up. It’s a weird spot for it, granted… but John’s a weird guy. That’s part of his charm, he thinks as he opens the front door.

Finding John is easy enough, even in the meandering old Mansion… he’s heated up the library; it practically sings out to Bobby’s heatsense on a cold night like this. No surprise, given how much John hates the cold. Not that the fireplaces still work after all these years, but it’s not like John needs much in the way of fuel, or even a fireplace really. He giggles a little, wondering if he can make John lose control of his fires again. It’s a bit risky in a firetrap like the Mansion, but… well, that can be fun, too. And between them they can extinguish any fire before it becomes a threat.

Bobby climbs the stairs carefully, tasting some residual heat from when John came this way, and opens the library door. Sure enough, there’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, and the library is warm and lit by the flickering flames. Right by the fireplace is a pile of blankets, and –

"John? What in the world are you wearing?"

(( OOC: Nor could I resist that. Tag, John! ))

[Pyro]

OOC: Thanks Bob. Really. Not taking that anywhere y’might’ve thought would follow on from such an exclamation… melodrama rules. As does boytouching, though consider this at most a relatively mild content warning.[/color]

It’s the first time he’s been early, or even on time, for one of their dates. The first one which has really had any sort of plan. Both tangents rich in a dark gallows humor, and both ones John has been trying to avoid thinking about while setting up. Fire was a natural place to start – having it around is meant to be calming him down (though not exactly working out) and it’s far too bloody cold in the Mansion (yes. Very cold. But that’s just weather and not to do with what’s about to play out… because thinking like that is ridiculous, and even though John has a flair for the gothic and histrionic true pathetic fallacy is definitely a step or two too far) but every other concession has something more to do with Bobby. It’s like when Mum’s the Woman’s stupid purebred cat had to be put down; she’d gone to so much effort rounding up everything comfortable and familiar, so that later she could reassure herself it had died without panicking… and that’s a door which shouldn’t be open (because none of those memories are real, none ever touch him here) and has to be shut (because thinking of that, now, given what he has to do, is again much too far).

Why here? He doesn’t know. It seems like a good place, simultaneously warm and nostalgic and cold and harsh and threatening. Somewhere Bobby won’t question. Somewhere with plenty of hiding spaces. Somewhere dark so Bobby can’t quite see how completely beaten up and wasted he no doubt looks despite his best efforts to be all boyish and excited so nothing seems out of the ordinary.

Preparations were tough, of course. But waiting’s a whole other sort of hellish, because there’s nothing to distract himself with. He tries the flames for a while, but they keep going all jagged and angular under his grip, sometimes like needles, sometimes like icicles, always forcing him to look away and remind his heart how to beat, his lungs the proper way to breathe, so he’s more huddled against the wall, uncurling when Bobby comes in and getting up to greet him.

< What in the world are you wearing?[/color]
Ah yes, that. The final touch.

”This old thing?” – shit, words shouldn’t be sticking like that. He clears his throat and forces his voice back to something nearer natural – ”Thought I might as well get used to it again.”

He doesn't know why he's wearing it, really. It was there and it felt right, and something about this has to. It is an oversized t-shirt, anonymous save for the X logo. The sort they used to wear for gym. Only this one clearly never belonged to him because it’s just a little too oversized, the hem resting at around knee-level, obscuring the crimson boxers underneath. Loose enough to bunch as he latches onto Bobby in a deep, though somehow despite his best efforts sort of sad and sleepy embrace. ”Glad you showed. Missed you.”

[Bobby Drake]

> "This old thing?"

John’s voice is… strange. Bobby can’t quite put his finger on it, beyond a sense of strain, like maybe he’s fighting off a cold or something.

> " Thought I might as well get used to it again. "

It takes Bobby a while to process that (that seems to happen a lot, with John) but when he finally does, it’s like someone just opened a trap door under his heart (which, come to think of it, also seems to happen a lot with John).

"You’re coming back?" He wishes he sounded less childishly excited by the prospect – he’d practically squeaked! – but on second thought the hell with trying to be a grownup. He wraps John up in a bear hug, lifts him off the ground, buries his face in John’s chest as he spins him around a few times out of sheer excitement before putting him back down again for a long, slow kiss. (Well, OK, maybe that last part isn’t so much childlike, granted.)

Everything feels turned on its ear. Even with John half-naked in his arms in front of a roaring (well, at the moment it’s less roaring than… well, Bobby has no idea how to describe what that fire is doing) fireplace Bobby’s not really feeling horny… or, well, yes he is, he so totally is, but what he’s feeling is so much more than that he doesn’t know what to do first, or next, or anything. Sex with John has always been... well, not rough exactly, but hard, somehow, (and not just in the obvious ways), and suddenly Bobby isn’t feeling hard at all (except for in the obvious ways), and… wow.

"Love you, Johnny." He knows it’s the first time he’s let himself say it even to himself, let alone out loud, and he feels a little weird about the timing – like it’s a reward, or something. Which isn’t it at all, it’s just this is the first time he’s felt safe enough to say it, and he feels guilty when he realizes that he’s been having sex with John all this time without actually trusting him… not really, anyway. He chases all of that out of his head. It doesn’t matter now.

He’d never really expected this would happen. Even lately, when whatever it was they had started to seem less like bartering sex for redemption, and more like… well, like being in love, scary as it is to admit that, he’d kept telling himself he’d never actually win John back, that he shouldn’t get his hopes up, that John was always going to stay with the Brotherhood and Bobby was just wasting his time. At the time that had seemed a sensible precaution against having his heart broken. Now, he realizes he’s been torturing himself for no reason… he’s not going to be abandoned (again), after all!

Happily ever after? a stray voice whispers in his mind, with a tinge of habitual irony. Maybe, he whispers back to it, completely sincere, as he settles down onto the blanket and pulls John down after him. Now shut up… I’m busy.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

Josh creeps stealthily into the entrance hall of Baker Mansion.

Less than an hour ago, he'd been curled up with his laptop in the living room, merrily wasting away the afternoon. Except then Bobby had come through on his way out, and he'd detected this weird mixture of both excitement and apprehension, as well as a touch of something forbidden.

His telepathy was many things, but as it got stronger Josh suspected that it would get him into trouble someday. Yeah, except it's completely worth it. A small smile spreads onto his face as he thinks of Warren.

So - of course! - he had followed Bobby out of the house. Figuring out what was up with Bobby had become a bit of a pet project of his, and Josh certainly couldn't resist finding out whether certain theories had any evidence in their favor. I mean, I know what it is. But... Or he thought he did. It was possible Bobby didn't know himself.

As he pads silently along the wall, a familar presence ghosts across his consciousness. One that he's discovered recently, though he knew the individual for far longer than that.

John! I knew it! Between the night John had returned to the Mansion with Bobby, the encounter at Halloween, and the mission Bobby had pulled off the other week, Josh had become somewhat familar with John's mental profile. He'd been too untrained to even sense it way back when...

>"You’re coming back?"

Bobby's voice. Full of hope, at that. And could he really blame him? John's coming back to the Mansion? Wow. Josh'd been friends with John before he'd left.- which had left him thoroughly conflicted with the whole John-as-Brotherhood dealio. It blurs the battle lines... He'd always wondered whether John had missed the school - and this apparently was the answer.

He sidles up around the corner from the room the two of them are in, continuing to listen. I should probably go. I don't want to invade their privacy... Josh grins a little to himself. And anyway, Warren should be just about back now.

[Pyro]

< You’re coming back?[/color]
”Not exac…” is all he manages to get out before Bobby steals the breath from his lungs. And it’s beyond cute, seeing that glee, hearing the childish squeal and… No. Fucking hell, no. Of course he can’t laugh as well, that’s insane. None of this is real. Not the excitement or the mad exhilaration. None of it…

It’s tempting, very tempting, to just let Bobby delude himself. It’s him that has brought this *coming back* to the table, not John, and so John can’t be blamed if Bobby insists on believing in dreams (and yes, that logic is fucked, but so’s everything else about this. It’s almost the least fucked part of it all) and hell, the dream makes him happy, and maybe that’s not a bad thing. And hell, some selfish part of him wants to live that dream for these few fragile fleeting moments, because it’s all going to go down in flames and he needs something to cling on to – unlike Bobby, it’s always been the sign, and not the faith, which gets him through – and shit, maybe it’s not such a dream. Maybe it’s got a chance. He could run, after all. Screw the plan. Get out and just run… because he’s good at running, and he and Bobby have something which can’t be trapped and it’s just going to burn on, fuck Magneto and the Brotherhood and everything else…

Only not. Somewhere in the shadows someone shifts, and drives the point home; there’s no escape except death, and however much of Bobby has rubbed off, and however neatly it sits with the *live fast, die young, burn out before you fade away* thing which is completely John, that’s not an option. He’d rather live, thanks, and besides, this is all about protecting Bobby (that having been his excuse so far, no matter how stretched it gets he has to cling go it…), so if running through with the plan is the only way he’ll get out of here that’s what John has to do. End of.

There are things which need to be said. Things he needs to get out there so he has enough fragments to be able to convince himself that somehow Bobby will understand what had to be done (because later, in the dark, this is going to matter more than anything). These things are, of course, difficult enough without Bobby being all charmingly, childishly, hyperactive, but John has to try.

”Bobby, I…”
< Love you, Johnny[/color]
Okay, that doesn’t help matters, because even if there were any words on the way out his heart’s blocking up his throat because…

No. This is one moment he can’t allow himself. Can’t. He’ll savour it later, because if this is about love it’s epic and not just some random betrayal, bur right now he needs to get this message out. ”Love you too, Bobby… but..”

Again he’s interrupted as Bobby pulls him to the floor, and for a moment he forgets himself and everything else and is just the raw wild need which tends to kick in at these moments… but it’s just a moment, just long enough for one more fiery kiss – the last one, perhaps, which excuses the lapse, since that kiss also needs to be epic (John’s stocking up on the minor miracles already, accumulating a whole great hoard of signs) – before he pulls back, his tone the clear voice you use with little kids when making a point. ”There’s time enough. You’ve got to listen to me first, okay? I didn’t say I was coming back…”

[Bobby Drake]

> " There’s time enough. You’ve got to listen to me first, okay? I didn’t say I was coming back…"

Bobby pulls back a little at that, suddenly embarrassed. "Oh. I thought… when you said you were getting used to, you know…" he waves vaguely at the X-logo on John’s shirt, "…and after the movies with Miss Craft, and the Holloween party, I figured you’d… man, you must think I’m a total spaz right now, huh?"

It has been one of the topics Bobby makes a point of not bringing up, because whenever he thinks about it suddenly their relationship becomes about more than just them, it become about Magneto and Professor Xavier and Jean and, well, everything, and it’s just too much to deal with. Besides, he’s always been afraid that if he admits that deep down he really does want John to come back to the Institute, for everything to be the way it was (well, OK, not everything, but still), it would just change everything in some weird way he doesn’t really understand.

So, now it’s out in the open. And, well, at least John isn’t freaking out or anything. Or, well, actually he kinda is, but… in a weird way.

"OK, I get it. It’s OK... really. I just got excited, is all… but it doesn’t change anything. Between us, I mean. Right?" He wishes he sounded more certain about that, but the look in John’s eyes is starting to creep him out. He looks… scared? Guilty? Bobby isn’t sure.

"John… what’s wrong?"

[Pyro]

He doesn’t want to do this. Any of it.

It’s the perpetual rant of the teenager against the world – it’s not fair – but John feels more than justified using it because it really, really isn’t. Not fair on him, now that he’s finally figured out this relationship shit so it’s something other than a currency. Definitely not fair on Bobby. Not at all. Karma’s got every right to screw John over, because he’s fucked up, but Bobby’s the good guy and the shit he’s had to deal with falling for someone like John… If there was any justice then yeah, he’d be moving back into the Institute and they’d get their happily ever after and nothing would ever hurt the kid again. If things could play out the way they should, the way he wants them to, then making sure nothing ever did would be John’s job… But things never work out the way they should, do that? John would curse… something, if he had anything to believe in, but he’s never been the religious type beyond his belief that Fate is a total bitch, and in many ways that’s scarier, because if nothing’s moving the chess pieces, if this is all down to just them, then…

Fuck. It’s Bobby’s eyes that do it. Otherwise he could have go through with it, no problem (that may well be a lie, but since sense seems to be less use than feeling and it’s how he feels it’s also real), but what he reads there… it’s a series of little knife wounds. That Bobby’s hurt and disappointed. That he’s the reason for that. And that somehow concern wins over both of those – concern for him. That last wound is the worst, as if the blade is held, twisted; Bobby loves him, and he doesn’t deserve it, and it’s that love which is going to destroy them both.

It should be easy to just reach over and give Bobby a hug. Just a normal hug, the kind that says everything’ll be fine, the kind that’s meant to cheer up. Because that’s the way they’ve been working lately. It’s no longer about the grand uncontrolled passions and the epic secret romance, the cycles of denial, because somewhere along the line things just clicked into place and it became a real relationship, one they weren’t scared of. Only now it’s awkward again, and while the sensible part of him, the part that understands how this has to play out, is grateful for that little emotional distance, the rest of him is… broken. Because it would be small comfort to either of them, but it would be some, and it would be real, and he’d know that they had this once.

Instead all he can offer is a few words, a quick explanation so they both have something to hold onto later – so Bobby’ll understand, and so he’ll know that. He can’t tell everything – eyes are on them both, and he has no doubt part of the team’s briefing (which he wasn’t allowed in on) had something to do with plan B, what happens if Pyro turns traitor in the heat of the moment – but it wouldn’t matter if he could, because he’d stumble over everything and not know what to say. Not having the luxury of being able to justify things at length is a blessing as well as a curse. Instead all he can offer is fragments, trusting Bobby will put them together right (and how could he not, when they understand each other this well?)

(Suddenly that cat metaphor makes a whole lot more sense)

”Nothing’s wrong…” except that everything is really, really fucked up… yeah, he can’t make that sound sincere, but it doesn’t matter, because those words get said regardless of whether they’re meant because that’s how things play out and deviation from whatever hasty and vague script there is for these things is a very bad idea. The next bit is scripted too, but it doesn’t matter as much, because however unnatural it seems it’s also beyond heartfelt. ”None of it matters, because I love you, Bobby, and nothing is going to change that. No matter what. I love you and I can’t let anything hurt you, and you have to remember that, no matter what”

The hug doesn’t feel so unnatural there, born of one part practicality given what’s coming and a million just sheer emotional momentum, and it’s not the *normal* hug, not at all. It’s the Hiroshima lovers hug, the wild embrace as the light takes you to pieces where all you want is to feel them one last time, to know you had this crazy raw thing and were loved once.

”Magneto knows” he chokes - oh shit, is he crying? Can’t be, he wouldn’t, and those definitely aren’t sobs breaking against Bobby or tears buried in his shoulder. Whatever they are – not tears. No way - they only last a second or two before a crazy calm descends, the calm before the firing line when you’ve used up all your fight and know there’s no escape. ”He knows, and we’re running out of options. He wants the reins on this one same as on everything else. You're the one thing I won't burn, and that makes you dangerous. Which is why no matter how much I want to come back – and fuck, Bobby, you have to know I do, and I would, in an instant…”

This, now, is the last kiss, and he knows it, and it’s a thing born of fire, every inch him as if he’s handing every inch over through it. Neither of them are psychics, but it’s as if he’s forgotten that and is trying to give Bobby the whole essence of him through it, and as if he’s trying to take as much of Bobby as he can in return.

Moments spill too fast for him to keep track. If he could it wouldn’t work.

He comes up for air. ” I can’t.” Flash of silver. ”It’s why I have to do this” Hiss, shudder. The plunger descends. ”Why you have to forgive me.” Withdrawal. "I love you so fucking much, Bobby." The needle clatters to the floor.

John tightens his grip in those last few moments before the darkness descends on them both. He knows Bobby’s slipping away – in more ways than the obvious – and this is the only way he can hope to fight that. It’s holding on, and making sure Bobby knows that he tried to, that he’s not letting go, and it’s committing to memory how holding on feels so he know he had something to hold to if he never gets to do this again.

[Bobby Drake]

> " None of it matters, because I love you, Bobby, and nothing is going to change that. No matter what. I love you and I can’t let anything hurt you, and you have to remember that, no matter what"

It should feel good… it’s what he’s wanted to hear John say from the very beginning of this.

But somehow it doesn’t. There’s something underneath the words somehow, desperation and guilt and other, darker things Bobby can’t identify, and for once in his life he wishes he were a telepath, just for a moment, just to be able to see what’s going on in John’s head. The hug is real, and the tears are real, and he doesn’t doubt the words, but he grows more concerned and bewildered with every moment.

> " Magneto knows "

Oh, fuck. Bobby’d been so excited by the prospect of “going public” with John at the Institute he hadn’t really considered that the Brotherhood would be less… supportive. Fuck, fuck, fuck! They’ll kill him! And not just metaphorically, the way most people use that expression – Magneto really would kill John, if he thought Pyro might turn against him.

Bobby’s mind is racing now, planning tactics even through John’s kiss. Later he’ll regret that… it really was an amazing kiss, and he’ll wish he’d paid more attention to it, and to what John was saying. But right now, the need to protect John is displacing all thought of physical intimacy.

"It’s OK… we’ll figure out a way out of this." Can the Institute protect him? No, not if Magneto is seriously out to get him – not unless we keep him locked up all the time. Which, Bobby has to admit, doesn’t seem like such a horrible idea from his perspective, but it would never work. What if we go on the offensive, take the Brotherhood down first? That could work, maybe. God knows the bastards have it coming to them.

He’s about to suggest it when something sharp stabs his thigh, and he hears something clatter to the floor. What the – he tries to pull away but he can’t, his muscles won’t respond. He looks down to see an empty syringe, and back up to John’s face, and suddenly understands what the “this” John was talking about was. You… you… Bobby can’t find a word that suits, and in any case he can’t get his throat to form words, and for the second time this evening he wishes he were a telepath, so he could express it without the need for words.

The anguished way his face twists up, just before he crumples, really doesn’t do it justice.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

Josh is slowly making his way back across the entrance hall when he feels a sense of uncertainty from Bobby spike in his mind. So he bites his lip, turns, and creeps back towards his previous position.

> ”It’s why I have to do this” [...] ”Why you have to forgive me.”

A feeling of horror washes across him, as if this is one of those moments - the ones that change everything. Precognition? He creeps a head around the corner, and sees a flash of silver - and feels Bobby mental profile rapidly drop in on itself.

"Nooooooo!" Josh charges around the corner, flinging a hand out wildly. John lifts off the ground and is smashed into the back wall.

"Bobby, Bobby! Can you hear me?" Josh gets to Bobby as he sinks to the ground. He's not dead... think! Use your powers. Josh rapidly tries to control his breathing. He's unconscious. If only I'd been faster. Maybe he could have prevented whatever it was in the needle from circulating into Bobby's bloodstream. Then again, maybe not.

So he gently lets Bobby slide onto a sofa in the corner, and turns to face John. "How could you, John? I trusted you. We were like family." His eyes are dark, and he walks slowly in a semicircle across from John.

"Bobby loves you!" Tears begin streaming down his face as he spits it out. Don't lose focus. You've gotta save Bobby and get out. "How can you? How?" He swipes a hand at his eyes.

He cocks his head, narrowing his eyes, as a new mental sensation enters it. Josh throws a hand out in anger, and a body in the darkness thumps against the wall.

"Never one to fight fair, are you, John? Two versus Bobby?" He extends a hand in John's direction as he walks, as if to ward off an attack. "I'm not the little boy who could barely control his powers anymore. Little brother's grown up." Josh's eyes flame with anger, but he can barely hold back more tears.

I dare you. Make a move and you will regret it.

[Pyro]

It’s Bobby’s words which are going to sting later. Not the bruises from the impact. Not the few ribs he’s sure Josh fully intended to crack, nor the concussion John is refusing to let sway him until they’re out and as near to safe as they can be given the nature of what the job is and who they work for. That’s a sort of pain he can deal with. Even the guilt he can swallow if he sweetens it enough with the twisted rational, numbs the ache with those carefully accumulated fragments which, like shards of glass, still shimmer and shine and perhaps only become more mesmerizing as the crimson pools around them. But what Bobby said hangs heavy somewhere between throat and heart and twists down like a knife blade, and fuck, it hurts even now when he’s obviously got far more important things to worry about.

We’ll figure a way out… Shit. Why couldn’t he have trusted in that? Because they would have, somehow. Bobby would have, because he wanted so bloody desperately to save John, it’s all he ever wanted, and John knows that now and that wound hits home harder than the rest. It hits somewhere deeper, darker and more private than the heart, stabbing at the very core of everything which makes up John. No way it couldn’t shatter now, that dark nucleus with it’s constant pulse Can’t be saved. Can’t be saved. Beyond Saving… Because it’s not that he can’t be – he found his salvation, his knight in shining armor, and somehow always knew it for what it was… - it’s that he won’t let himself. It’s not the urge to jump which drives him, it’s the desire to fall. And when you realise that… it doesn’t make for a particularly optimistic vision of where everything’s going.

Later it’s the ghost of that, of whatever he’s now destroyed – because he knows he’s murdered something, some irreplaceable part of the whole mystery that was Bobby and John, he’s just not sure what beyond the overwhelming sensation that everything’s fucked – which will kill him a little bit at a time. Right now he has other concerns, and part of him is wildly grateful that Josh is here because he wants, needs this to hurt even more than he’s capable of making it, and there’s an odd dark satisfaction in having someone else beating him with the whips he’s been using on himself so far it stops him thinking, forces him back into at least sort-of acting as a member of the Brotherhood the way he should do (because he knows full well Mystique is lurking out there in the shadows (even if he’s not meant to know as it’s an unofficial, if painfully clear and obvious, threat), ready to pounce and render all his efforts in ensuring Bobby doesn’t have to die completely futile at the slightest sign of any hiccups in the plan). So once he knows from Josh’s reaction that Bobby isn’t dead – which is still concern number one, hang everything else – he’s on his feet again, facing the teek down. Josh is all motion and anger, and somehow that balances him, sort of, so he’s calm and still and oddly certain despite the obvious darker side to it, the side which still flavors things in its confinement, and if let loose would very much like to curl up in a dark corner and wail and gnash and just let the rage and fear and grief and general heartbreak wash over him and pound him to death. Right now he doesn’t have the luxury of giving in to that cosy oblivion, and so he can’t let himself break. He has to be cold, the John Josh no doubt now thinks he is. The John who can do this, instead of… well, there is no instead of. This is the only option now. He’s missed his chance to change things.

”Like family?” he half-sneers, though there’s more of a sad yeah right lurking beneath the obvious and more familiar nasty streak, because yes, Raven, I’m talking to you and Erik here… my so-called family.. ”Families fuck each other over all the time, Joshy…”

Bob loves you![/i]
”You think I don’t know that?”

Okay, that would be the control.. not exactly breaking, but wavering enough that the fire flares, and mentally nudges at him to be allowed to take everything and make it go away… only he knows it’s not going to go away (if life’s taught him anything, it’s that nothing makes it all better) and forces the flames back down into the grate. Because he’s still reluctant to make a move, not because he can’t hurt Josh but because he’s scared just how much he would if he let himself now that having him there might just compromise things.

How can you?
Fuck, it’s like Josh is in his head (okay, so that’s not so weird, but seeing that requires a little more clarity than he’s capable of just now), giving voice to all the sparks he thought he’d smothered, forcing him to bring up the arguments again and beat them back and try not to realise how hollow the reasoning sounds because it’s taut and it works and if it doesn’t then this has all been for nothing…

Two versus Bobby?
It’s the gesture he reacts to first, calling the flame to him with a wrist-flick much like Josh’s, before the words come. It’s almost unclear who he’s arguing with, because it’s not really Josh, he’s just useful to bounce things off so they become real and harder to escape, so they hold just a little longer until John’s back and has someone older and wiser and deeper into the Brotherhood shit to explain clearly and slowly exactly how this whole thing is anything other than insanity.

”4, actually.” – that first part is half-threat, half-warning – ”And they’re not here for him. They’re here because Magneto doesn’t trust me not to jump. And this whole thing is his way of convincing himself that I’m not going to. If he thought I would, he’d kill Bobby.” The part he’s not allowed to say – about how he can’t let that happen, how this is all about Bobby – all lies in the emphasis he puts on that word, though he may well be the only one that reads it there. ”Little Brother’s in way out of his depth, sitting at the Big Kid’s table, trying to get in on things he doesn’t understand”

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

Deep down inside - the part of himself that he never wants to acknowledge - Josh is pleased by the look of intense pain on John's face as he strikes the wall. Id-Josh is pumping a fist somewhere, shouting something about through the window next!!!...

> ”You think I don’t know that?”

"You've sure got an interesting way of showing it. How could you possibly think turning the love of your life over to Magneto is a good idea?" Josh tries to wrap his own brain around the idea and fails utterly.

Things don't quite line up, though. John'd have to be a pretty amazing actor to pull off faking all of this for some sort of gain. He'd been almost sappy (a term Josh would never had applied to John) the night they'd all watched movies together. And he'd heard some of their conversation tonight - it all seemed on the level. And, despite his own emotional conflict, he could pick up the same feelings from John via his telepathy. God, what's going on?

When John calls a ball of flame from the fireplace to his palm Josh knows that neither of them are going to walk away uninjured from the confrontation. Fuck.

> ”4, actually.” ... ”And they’re not here for him. They’re here because Magneto doesn’t trust me not to jump. And this whole thing is his way of convincing himself that I’m not going to. If he thought I would, he’d kill Bobby.”

Four? Oh, shit. Josh suppresses a quiet groan. There was no way he could win against four, unless the other three were wildly inexperienced. He'd need an inhuman reaction time for that. And while he was decidedly different from a normal human, fate had somehow not gifted him with superspeed.

A whisper of ill intent ghosts from the other corner of the room. He narrows his eyes, and a body crashes against the window, shattering the pane to pieces. That's three. Who's the last one? It doesn't sound like Magneto's here...

"John, why don't you jump? You don't belong with them. Bobby cares about you more than anyone else in the world. I care about you, too. The Institute doesn't see you as the enemy. We can protect you." With a shock, Josh realizes his words are true. It was one of the things that made this so hard. A betrayal breaks trust. He couldn't imagine what was running through Bobby's head after he saw the needle.

As he speaks, he scans the room, weighing his options.

[Pyro]

John reacts to the crunch of another unseen ally (or, given that they’re as much keeping an eye on him as trying to take down Josh, another… whatever. Officially they’re still his team, right? 2 down. That leaves… Mystique probably. Shit) before the words, punching out with the flame, missing Josh by inches so a blackened bruise rises on the plaster behind him, old paint curling around the edges of the wound (obviously that was deliberate… and obviously that’s the tactical rather than sentimental kind of deliberate).

It flares again, dangerously, at Josh’s words, and there’s no use pretending that’s anything other than just losing control, a spike of pure emotion he brings back under control just before it would hit, because this time it’s on target, a childish shut up screamed out in crimson and gold… the shut up of knowing the other person is right, and just not wanting to hear. Because Josh is right, of course… except that (and he reminds himself of this again, hoping it might just sink in, or become true, or something) he is very, very wrong.

”You think it fucking matters where I belong, or how you see me? Magneto doesn’t take as kindly to traitors as you lot, and because you’re that soft and naïve your so-called protection wouldn’t do shit. You can stand by and trust that you’ll win because you’re the good guys, that doing things the *right* way is always best. I’m just not going to take that chance and watch Magneto kill Bobby just so I can tell myself I was *nice*. Because he will. If I don’t do this one fucked up thing.” Because it is really, really fucked up… but he can’t let that stop him. Punishment enough is on the way later, knowing what this’ll do, and having to live with it, without beating himself up now, and if he loses his focus it will all have been for naught. Dropping into something nearer a fighting stance, eyes dark with the blackness after the fire goes out despite the flame shining in them, he prepares for the strike he doesn’t want to have to make. Because Josh will hesitate, he knows, and it’s that heartbeat where he needs to be ready to make a move. ”So get the fuck out of my way, Josh. I’ll take you down if I have to. If it means getting him out alive, little brother.”

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

It takes all of his mental fortitude to not flinch wildly when John tosses the fireball his way. You're fucking nuts! He finally stands still in the center of the room, across from John.

> Because he will.

"Have you ever thought that he'll kill Bobby anyways, John? After all, us X-Men are blood traitors to 'homo superior'! Magneto doesn't give a shit for anyone but himself. If he found a purpose in killing Bobby - if only to get back at the Institute - he'd do it." Josh's voice trembles a little, and he wipes at his cheek.

> ”So get the fuck out of my way, Josh. I’ll take you down if I have to. If it means getting him out alive, little brother.”

He really thinks this is his only option. His anger subsides slightly, but not for long. He's so desperate to save Bobby that he may just end up being what causes his death.

"John, I'm sorry. I don't believe that even you can keep him safe from Magneto in his own hideout." Josh's eyes flame with determination, and he extends a hand to his left, establishing a quick telekinetic grip, but moving nothing.

"I'm sorry, big brother." His words sound sincere, and a tear rolls down his cheek.

[Pyro]

< He’d do it
”D’ya think that maybe I might just know better than you what Magneto will or won’t do?” Not even a vague concession that Josh might be right, though the logic in his words is undeniable. Because that possibility would render everything nul and void, given that this whole fucking thing is based on the belief that Magneto will hold to his word and not harm Bobby as long as his demands are met… all of them. ”As long as you lot stay in your playpen, and as long as I don’t run off into the sunset, then Bobby’s safe. That’s the best I can offer. And sure, it’s not much and it’s really, really fucked up, but at least it’s something. Something more than ending up face to face on the field and being made to…” John trails off, not willing to confront that image even by proxy, because he knows how that would end. Magneto’s determined, one way or another, to have him sacrifice this thing, to watch him chose the Brotherhood over it. And this is by far the best way. Josh has to see that.

< I don’t believe that even you can keep him safe from Magneto in his own hideout[/color]
”I’m his left hand, Josh. If I can’t do it there of all places then we’re doomed anyway”

< I’m sorry, big brother[/color]
”I’m not.”

And he can’t be. He has to be, because there’s nothing to be sorry for except everything because he’s done the best he can under really screwed up circumstances. We do it not because it’s right, but because we are compelled to do it (a V-ism, he notes, in a strange bittersweet flashback to before everything went to hell). Josh has left no other choice, and John punches out again. Still he’s reluctant to unleash his full power – this is still Josh, and the big brother / little brother thing will stay his hand as far as possible, as long as not killing doesn’t compromise the bigger goals – and what hits is more force than heat, a rush of sheer power which barely singes but slams home like a brick wall. Almost before it lands he's moved on from objective one (disable Josh) to two (get Bobby out) without waiting to see whether it's landed.

[Josh Dalton Worthington]

> ”I’m not.”

Josh is not particularly surpised at the response. If John thinks that this ludicrious plan is the only way to save Bobby, he'll go through with it. The fireball hurtled in his direction drops his attention down to the here and now. Any analysis is going to have to wait until later.

If there is a later. With a shout, Josh flicks a finger, and an armchair interposes itself between himself and John, leaping into place from his side. The pure force of the blast shreds it, illuminating the room brightly, and he tosses the remains in John's direction.

With a blur, one of the bodies he'd teeked earlier flashes into place next to him. A woman smashes a fist into his gut, doubling him over. He coughs, choking. Almost too fast to see, she backhands him, the speedy blow stinging harshly.

Concentrate! The process has become much harder thanks to the hammerblow to his midsection. As he gulps for air, the woman shoves him backwards with both hands, smashing him into the wall, making Josh see stars.

Body aching all over after the span of only 15 seconds, he scrambles to his feet in time to telekinetically halt one of her blows in front of him. Her faces twists in confusion.

"Okay, hobag. This is how it's gonna go." She swings again, cursing as her fist seems to impact against hardened air. With a thought, Josh catapaults her across the room, smashing her headlong into the wall. Her body sticks halfway out of the plaster.

He clutches his abdomen, looking after her. One down. His attention is dragged back to John.

"John!" Josh yells and starts across the room after him.