Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One second, he was dead.

The next, he was gasping for air, his lungs burning as oxygen forced their way into them. His hands tightened to fists, grabbing into something soft, shifting under his weight. The back of his eyelids swirled in flashing patterns. His ribs ached as something pounded down on them. Steady and hard and dangerously close to breaking something, burning hot like he was being hit by a brand.

His eyes flew open, too much light to take anything in. He twisted away from the heat. The ground shifted as he put his weight down. He knew that sensation. Sand.

He threw up on it, frozen chunks of food long ago eaten. Only he didn’t stop there, kept going until his eyes were streaming and his throat was raw and his stomach ached as strings of bile forced their way out of him.

With one last retch, he collapsed back down onto the sand. He looked upwards, a haze over him, blocking the rest of the world from his sight. He panted for a second and his brain, finally convinced he was alive and staying that way, made its first slow and sticky thought, like chocolate syrup. A snail's pace of connections.

He couldn’t remember how he got here.

He couldn’t remember anything.

The heat touched his shoulder, sizzling, and he shot back up. The world spun around him as he lifted up his hands. His brain cursed him. Of course, he wasn’t safe. He was never safe. Even in his disoriented state, he knew he wasn’t winning any fights. But all he had was muscle memory, knocked into him from a lifetime.

“Dude,” a voice said, dragging the syllables painfully slow. It buzzed and crackled like a radio trying to find a signal, echoing in his head.

His brain was warming up, the thoughts beginning to fire at the right speed. But, something was still missing. He felt… empty.

Fingers clicked in front of his face, demanding his attention. That was what touched him before, he realised. Hands, not the heat of a star. He tried to batter them away, too close.

“Focus,” the voice drawled.

He looked up to face it. He should have done it before, but there was still a fear at the edge of his mind. Only he didn’t want to remember why. Not yet. But all he saw was a man. He didn’t recognise him. Some waster doing a good deed. But he hadn’t needed his help.

He could remember a ship, a team of blurry faces, red eyes. He remembered, “Scott.”

The face in front of him frowned, the only clear thing in a grey, swirling background. “I’m not Scott.”

He knew that. He still had eyes, for one. And Scott could follow his thought process, even when it was shaken not stirred.

“Oh, is that your name?” the guy asked. Great, he was an idiot. Trust him to get saved by someone as thick as bricks.

He snorted. “Bobby,” he corrected. It was right, he knew that, even if he hadn’t been aware of it until he spoke it aloud. There was more behind it like he opened the floodgates. He was an X-Man. And Scott was his boyfriend, only nobody could know that. There was too much to lose.

Nobody could know anything about him. Especially some loser on a beach.

Well, he’d managed to fuck that up already.

And now Bobby could remember who he was, he realised he was the one as thick as a brick. He needed to leave before there was too much damage control to rein in. The Prof would kill him if he had to do a mind wipe.

Bobby tried to get his feet under him, pretty sure the first step of leaving was standing up, but that burning hand was on his shoulder again, holding him in place. Everything was too hot.

Bobby suddenly wondered, seeing as he was pretty sure he’d been dead, whether this was actually hell.

He didn’t believe in it but that was where his Nana thought he was going to go. Never said it to his face, because she didn’t know, but she implied it. Unbelievers went to hell. Homosexuals went to hell. Mutants went to hell. Bobby had a one-way express ticket to it if it existed.

Only he was pretty sure this wasn’t hell.

It would be anticlimactic for the devil to be a beach stoner. And it was less the burning coals in a fire and more… thick fog.

“You need to relax,” the guy said, his words still dragging too long.

Bobby shook his head, pleased to find the action no longer made him feel sick. “I need to get home.”

“Where’s that?”

Bobby shouldn’t say. His mouth was already moving. “Westchester.”

“Dude,” the guy said, his eyebrows almost looking comedic as they drew together in confusion. Bobby was getting a bad feeling, the kind that started in his stomach and spread out. “Where?”

“Upstate? New York?”

The guy snorted. “No way, man. Your head must be scrambled. You’re in California.”

“Cali-” Bobby cut off, understanding dawning. “The boat.”

He probably shouldn’t have said that either. In fact, he should probably stop saying anything at all. But now he was remembering the boat, he was remembering the mission. There had been an incident with a mutant and the X-Men had once again raced off to save the world for no thanks.

“Did you fall off a boat?” the guy asked, turning to look to the side. Bobby assumed that was where the sound of crashing waves came from. Like he’d be able to see anything in the weather. Oh, and the boat had been in the middle of the North Pacific anyway. But if Bobby said that to the guy, who, against all looks, must have at least two brain cells somewhere up there, he would wonder how Bobby ended up still alive in California.

Bobby was wondering that too.

He was sure he had been dead. He could remember it. Red eyes and a gunshot that echoed in his head. A burning in his chest and falling down, down, down. A loud splash as he hit the water.

Death.

Only he hadn’t died.

He washed up on the west coast instead.

Bobby laughed. The X-Men always had good luck but this probably took their allotted fill for the rest of the year.

Because Bobby was alive. He could move his hands and wiggle his toes. He could feel himself breathing, he could see and think.

But there was something missing. And he had no idea what.

What he needed was Scott, and home. Then, it would all become clear.

He moved, managing to get his feet under him this time, and pushed upwards. He swayed for a second under his own weight, his bare feet sinking slightly in the damp sand, but his legs took his weight. Carefully, he took his first step forward.

The guy followed him up, looking concerned. “I don’t think you should get up yet.”

“I’m fine,” Bobby dismissed. He would say he’d survived worse, but he really hadn’t. At least he had a plan now. Get back to New York and find Scott. Everything would fall into place, and the thing he was missing would come back.

Easy.

“I think you should go to the ER,” the guy carried on, clearly not getting Bobby didn’t need him. He was a superhero, the X-Men would be looking for him.

“I’m fine.” And he did feel fine. He thought taking a trip across the Pacific would hurt more. But while mentally he was a mess, physically he had never felt better. It was like his body had been reset. He thought he could probably run a marathon, if he put his mind to it. Which meant he was in a better state than before.

He squinted around him, unable to see a city. With he shrug, he set off. He needed to keep moving before it properly hit him that he nearly died. And when that happened, he was going to bug out, so needed to contact the X-Men sooner rather than later.

“The city’s the other way,” the guy said, clearly trying to be helpful.

Bobby glared at him but turned on his heel.

“And you’re only wearing underpants.”

Bobby froze. Not literally, but his feet stopped moving forward and his chest didn’t, nearly causing him to fall over. He looked down, cursing his costume. The stoner guy was unfortunately right. Just his underpants with his little X on them. Hopefully, the guy spent more time on the beach than reading the news. If he was up to date on superhero teams, Bobby’s cover was well and truly blown. Maybe he should just call the whole thing quits and ice-slide his way off the beach.

The thought filled him with dread.

Like he was thirteen again and everything was icing up around him and he was realising there was something wrong with him. He never really stopped feeling like that, but this time it wasn’t about what his powers could do, it was what it would do to him. It felt like he hadn’t completely defrosted yet. Maybe his brain would stop firing again if he iced up again so soon.

He didn’t know what he did. Maybe he’d cryogenically frozen himself like on TV. He’d discussed it with Hank, and they decided it wasn’t very likely to work on a normal human. But Bobby wasn’t a normal human. If someone could survive being flash-frozen and then thawing, it would be him. Maybe he did it subconsciously as he crushed into the water to save his life. Which was pretty cool and would make perfect sense.

Except, he’d been shot in the heart.

He remembered the pain. He was sure he would never forget it. The burning as it ripped through his chest, tearing through muscle and blood vessels, shattering his ribs.

Only, when he looked down to his bare chest, there was no gaping hole he was sure it left. Just smooth skin.

Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his brain was misfiring because of all the stress. After all, he’d been through a lot. He couldn’t have been shot. It must have missed him and he fell anyway, and he just thought he’d been shot. He would have still frozen himself if he thought he was going to drown.

Yes, that had to be it.

He couldn’t survive a bullet to the chest. Nobody could survive that.

Anyway, even if he felt like he could ice up, making a slide would find himself in the same situation, just twenty more miles inland. At least the briefs kind of made sense so close to the sea, even if it was the wrong season.

He turned back to the guy and tried to smile warmly. His facial muscles must have still been defrosting too, though, because it felt more like a stiff grimace. “Do you have any clothes spare?”

The guy looked around like a full set might just appear from the fog. “No, man.”

“Great,” Bobby sighed. Looked like he was just going to have to go in his underpants. “Do you have any money? For the payphone?”

The guy laughed. “I saved your life and you’re asking me for money? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“You didn’t save my life.” If anything, he’d made things worse. Bobby was pretty sure he would be feeling a lot better right now if he got to defrost in peace.

The guy snorted. “Your heart wasn’t beating.”

The thought was uncomfortable, even if it couldn’t be right, and Bobby shifted under it. Part of him wanted to place his palm on his chest to make sure it was still doing it. Bobby didn’t believe in ghosts only, right now, he kind of felt like one. He didn’t want to tempt fate by testing. Instead, he shrugged. “Whatever.”

He turned on his heel and stomped up the shore. As he stepped onto the pavement, he tried to be as discreet as possible. Why couldn’t it be in the middle of summer rather than in March? Everyone was on their lunch breaks from their nine-to-fives instead of having that vacation feel Bobby would fit right in with. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Still, there were worse places for this to happen. If he’d washed up in Alaska, going to the ER wouldn’t have been a choice he got. Whoever saved him would think he was about to go out from hypothermia. Or he could have ended up in China, or whatever was on the other side of the Pacific. That would really suck.

It wasn’t so hazy in the city, but it still wasn’t ideal conditions. It took him forever to find a pay phone. It didn’t help that every time he tried to ask for directions, people sped away from him. Clearly, they were used to half-naked crazies and didn’t want to help him out.

Unfair, seeing as he wasn’t actually one.

Though if he saw himself on the street, yeah, he’d be running away too.

He let out a long breath when he found one. Luckily, the mansion’s phone number never changed and they had a policy on picking up collect. Though that might change when the Prof got to see the whooper of the phone bill this call was going to cost. Oh well, the old man could afford it and it was real desperate measures. The real question was why he’d been saved by a random guy. The X-Men didn’t leave people behind like that.

They were probably still hunting for him. The Pacific was big, and his badge walkie-talkie was still floating in it. The Prof would be able to get a message to Ororo to pick him up.

He grew tenser with every ring that wasn’t picked up, his breath caught in his throat. Then, the line clicked and Bobby sunk back into the wall. The relief that flowed through his body was so strong he felt like he might collapse.

“Hello?” Ororo’s voice was a delight to hear, even if there was suspicion laced into it, and shouldn’t she be flying over the ocean looking for him? Maybe it had taken him longer to get to shore than he thought.

“You don’t know how glad I am to hear your voice, ‘Ro,” he said, the grin on his face so wide it hurt the sides. “Like music to my ears. Why are you back at the mansion? Thought we said no man left behind.”

“Who is this?” she asked. He’d been wrong. Ororo’s voice wasn’t suspicious. It was seething with Goddess-filled righteous anger.

Bobby stood up straight, the smile falling off his face as the relief rushed out of his system as quickly as it came. And there was that bad feeling again, growing. Maybe it had been longer than a day. Maybe it had been longer than a week. Because no way would she sound like that otherwise. Like she didn’t believe it was him.

“It’s Bobby,” he said, even though she already knew that. He said it to the operator before she picked up.

“No. My friend Bobby Drake is dead.”

This wasn’t good. “I’m not. Promise.” He winced. That wasn’t very convincing. Only how could he prove it? They were on the same team, but it wasn’t like he knew any super secret information to confirm himself. If he phoned Scott... “Get the Prof to look for me. I’m stuck in California. He’ll confirm.” Hopefully.

“The Professor?” she asked and he could hear the eyebrow raise in her voice, even though the crackling connection.

“Uh-huh. Old bald guy that has a nifty machine that can find any mutant in the world. I’m the mutant he needs to find. New York’s ahead, I know he’s not still in bed.” Then, a horrible thought struck him. A reason why they might have dropped the search. “He’s okay, right?”

“Charles is fine.”

Bobby could never get used to the others calling the Prof by his first name. Even as he got older, it still felt wrong. He wasn’t their friend. “Then, go get him to do his thing.”

“He’s not in.”

“Not in?” Bobby spluttered. “He better not be in Scotland mourning the death of half of his original team. Get him on the line so I can get out of here.”

There was a long pause. Bobby suspected he might have hit the nail on the head with that one. But the good news was, it had to convince Ororo of his identity slightly. No way would anybody else but him but that rude about it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Ororo finally said.

Bobby let out a whoop, fist pumping the air. “Groovy. Thank you. You will not regret this. And when it all comes back good, do you think you could pick me up as well? I left my wallet in my other underpants.”

A woman walking passed turned as he spoke. She eyed him for a second too long and Bobby yelped, covering his crotch with his free hand. These were way too revealing when he wasn’t in his ice form.

“Actually, can you start the plane now?”

“If you are who you say you are, we will be quick.”

With that, ‘Ro hung up, the dial tone loud in his ears. Bobby blinked at the receiver for a second.

“Goodbye to you too,” he muttered, hanging it back up.

At least he was in a slightly better position. Unfortunately, that position still left him with no money and in his underpants. Even if they set off now, it would take forever for them to get here.

Bobby sighed, looking up and down the street before shrugging. He might as well try and make his way back to the beach.

Chapter Text

The Blackbird looked the same as it always did as it touched down on the Californian beach. Bobby didn’t know where exactly he was in the state, but he moved up the coast, away from the city and somewhere quieter. Planes usually attracted attention, and he was fed up with being gawked at. The engines cut off, leaving the silence ringing in his ears.

It had been six long hours. Bobby was now wearing a sweater someone had kindly left lying around. It stunk, clearly belonging to some hippie, but at least it did something to cover him. Sadly, nobody had been as kind as to spare a pair of pants. He couldn’t wait until he got back to New York.

He hoped they hadn’t raided his snack compartment on the plane when he was gone. He was starving. He had no money, and he’d never tried shoplifting before. Scott knew how to, though he didn’t like it, and he certainly wasn’t going to teach Bobby. Though his first advice would be to have some pants on. Bobby could hear his voice in his head.

He couldn’t wait to see him again.

The ramp lowered and Ororo flew out. She was in her X-Men costume, her cloak billowing out behind her as she landed in front of him. Her eyes flicked from their white film to brilliant blue.

Bobby stared. She had cut her hair. Bobby had been missing in action, and she had decided to get a haircut? And it wasn’t even a good haircut, all shaved sides with a shock of white in the middle.

She was followed by someone he didn’t recognise. Had he really been replaced that easily?

And they had only brought two people! So much for his miraculous return with tears and hugs. What was a guy meant to do to get a party with this lot if coming back from being MIA didn’t do it?

“About time,” he grumbled.

“You certainly sound like Bobby,” Ororo said, a slight smile playing at the corner of her mouth. She didn’t seem to be blinking as she stared, disbelief on her face, hardened with the same suspicion in her voice from the call. Not quite as strong though – she was close to being convinced.

“That’s because I am.” He stepped forward but she held out her hand, stopping him.

“We still need to check,” she said, regretfully.

Bobby groaned. “C’mon, ‘Ro. The Prof gave me the all clear, didn’t he? Let me on the plane.”

“It would be foolish not to be cautious.”

“There’s only two of you,” he pointed out, dangerously close to pouting. He just wanted to go home and see Scott. And everyone else, he guessed, but mostly Scott. He would be missing him so bad, even if he would be pissed Bobby went missing for, what, just over a week? Revenge for that time the asshole managed to get arrested.

“I am the Mistress of the Elements. Do you not think I could take you down?”

Bobby gulped, remembering her in battles. While nobody could replace Jean, Ororo was the closest you could get. Bobby would happily follow her into a war, but she didn’t really need an army, holding her own. Even Wolverine wouldn’t dare to go toe to toe. Unfortunately. It was always funny when the little psycho got knocked down a peg.

There was a shine of amusement in her eyes as she spoke. He knew it was all just protocol, not that the X-Men actually had one penned for this situation. Maybe he could get them to name it after him.

“Good point. But I’m warning you guys, I left my ID in my pants,” he said.

“Do not worry – I brought a telepath.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow, looking behind her to the other woman. Suddenly, he really wished he managed to find some pants. It never really bugged him before that most people had seen him in just his briefs, but he had been iced up then. That felt like clothing, even if it really wasn’t. “What? I don’t even get the Prof? I get some second-class broad instead?”

“Bobby,” Ororo sighed and if she hadn’t been completely convinced before, that definitely tipped her over the edge.

He held up his hands, letting out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. Search away.”

“Betsy,” Ororo said over her shoulder, not taking her eyes off him.

The woman stepped forward. She was unnerving, mostly because she had taken the whole secret identity thing to a new extreme. She was basically in a full suit of armour, a hood even covering her hair.

“This isn’t going to hurt,” she said, her voice gentle and English. So, the Prof had finally managed to find another one. He probably just wanted her on the team so he could have afternoon tea and talk about, well, whatever English people talked about.

Bobby pushed back his unease, winking at her. “Don’t worry, baby, I can take it.”

She frowned at him as pink energy shot around her face. It seemed to form two capital ‘b’s, joined at the stem, and he wondered if it was in any way linked to her name. “Maybe it will hurt a little bit.”

He snorted as she reached forward. He never liked new people joining the X-Men, especially not when it felt like they were trying to push him out. But she was a telepath – they were more behind the scenes than foot soldiers. His job was safe.

Her fingers pressed lightly on his forehead and he felt her slip inside. He pushed back the sudden urge to ice up, knowing it was pointless. His shield couldn’t protect him from all that telepathic mumbo-jumbo. And, if she was with Ororo, she could be trusted.

Only… it was the first time he’d been scanned by a stranger. It was weird, slightly uncomfortable, made worse by the fact he couldn’t actually feel her rooting around up there. He had no control over what she was doing, didn't even know what she was looking at. He could trust the Prof and Jeanie to not go where they didn’t need to. No wonder Scott hated it. If she wanted to, she could see everything. And Bobby couldn’t do a thing to stop her.

After a minute, she pulled back, the energy around her face dissipating. She nodded her head at Ororo. “His presence matches that which Charles gave me, and I can sense no ill intent.”

Bobby tried to make sure everything was still in place as Ororo smiled gratefully towards her. Then, she stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Bobby couldn’t remember if he’d ever hugged her before, but at this moment, he wasn’t going to complain. He sunk into it happily and wrapped his arms around her back. She was taller than him, more so because of the heels on her costume, and normally that would bug him, but right now he was just thankful she cared.

It wasn’t the hug he wanted, but Ororo was a good friend, once they got past their rough patch. Okay, once Bobby stopped being a jerk. He didn’t know how long he’d been gone for, but at that moment, it felt like a lifetime.

“It’s good to see you again, Bobby,” she said into his ear before pulling back. Too quickly, but her hands stayed on his arms like she could sense he needed human contact. Unlike the man who had given him CPR on the beach, they didn’t burn so hot. “But how did you survive? I saw you-” She cut herself off, like his ‘death’ was still too raw to think about.

“I must have froze myself, slowed down on my systems so I could survive until I reached shore.” He pulled up his sweater. “Look, I didn’t get shot or anything. Must have just reacted when I hit the water.”

Ororo frowned. “I could have sworn…” she shook her head. “It does not matter. It is good you are still alive. We scoured the ocean for you. Know, if we thought you were alive, we would have never stopped.”

Bobby waved his hand in front of his face, dropping the bottom of the sweater. “Stop with your flirting, ‘Ro, I know that. Even I thought I was done for.” He looked up the ramp behind her. “Did anyone raid the snack compartment while I was gone? I swear I saw Logan eyeing it up.”

Ororo laughed. She still had that look of disbelief in her eye. Bobby tried not to shuffle under the weight of it. “Not enough beer in it for him. It was Kitty who liked the look of it but she has kept it stocked in your honour.”

Bobby followed her up the ramp, feeling himself getting lighter with each step. It was good to be on the plane, good to actually be going somewhere instead of waiting for hours musing over it all. Only something still felt wrong, a heavy weight in his chest. He ignored it. “Honour? Please. I’ve only been gone a week or two.”

Ororo stopped walking.

Bobby felt his stomach sink. He had been worried it might have been slightly longer. But it definitely wasn’t too long. It couldn’t be the summer, he would have melted alive in California. “A month?”

That made more sense. After all, they’d managed to recruit a new member. That was solidly in the month category. But Ororo bit her lip and Bobby knew he had undershot slightly. Why hadn’t he tried to find a newspaper rather than sitting around doing shit all?

Maybe he hadn’t wanted to face the bad news alone.

“Two months? Three? No, it can’t be three.”

“How much do you remember?” Ororo asked, carefully.

Bobby shook his head. “Hey, don’t do that. Just be straight with me.”

Ororo let out a long breath. “You may want to sit down.”

“Just tell me,” he said. He sounded more confident than he felt. His legs were feeling weak already.

“It’s been two years, Bobby.”

It took a second for that to go in, bouncing around the inside of his skull. It felt like being shot again, only that hadn’t happened the first time.

He couldn’t have been gone for two years.

That was impossible. That meant he hadn’t been missing for a while. That meant he had been gone.

Everyone would have moved on. Scott would have moved on. Living a whole new life without him. Bobby had promised he would never leave him. He felt like he might throw up again. His legs were shaking and the world spun around him.

“I think you were right,” he said faintly. “Sitting would be good right now.”

Ororo took him by the arm and guided him to a seat. He was breathing heavily. It didn’t seem to help. He felt… disconnected from it. Like his body wasn’t working right. Of course, it wasn’t working right. He’d been frozen for two years. If it was anyone else, his cells would be mush when he thawed.

It didn’t feel like two years had passed. He didn’t feel like he was twenty-five. It felt like a couple of weeks tops.

It felt like he’d fallen off that boat yesterday.

It wasn’t making sense no matter how much oxygen he pulled into his lungs or how tightly he squeezed his eyes shut.

A minute passed.

Then, another.

“Shit,” he finally settled on. He gave it a second more before lifting his head up and looking at Ororo. “That’s a really long time.”

She gave him a soft smile, concern shining in her eyes. She reached forward, placing her hand on his shoulder. He’d never told the new X-Men he was gay. That was too much of a risk. But Ororo had seemed to learn from Jean he wasn’t going to take physical touch the wrong way. That had to be why she was so willing to be close, he’d never seen her act that way with the other men on the team. Or maybe she would be – maybe it was just in her nature – but they didn’t do things like break down in front of her.

Either way, it didn’t look good on him. Not in front of the new team member. So, even as he craved the support she was offering, he shrugged her hand off and slipped on a grin. Maybe it was due to being frozen for so long, but it didn’t feel right again yet.

“So, I’m guessing mutants haven’t been accepted yet? What with the new team member and all?”

Ororo’s hand hovered over him for a second more before it dropped down to her side. “Unfortunately not. Betsy is not our only new recruit in this war.”

“Oh,” Bobby said. His mouth felt dry. He knew that was going to be the answer, but it didn’t change the fact it sucked. “And Warren? Hank? Are they still around?”

He would be happy to see them again but they weren’t the person Bobby desperately wanted to know about. But he couldn’t ask, not yet. He cursed the new team member, forcing him to be on edge. Only, did it matter? She was a telepath, she’d already been in his brain. Who knew what she had picked up on, purposefully or not? Maybe that was why she was already sitting in the cockpit even though they weren’t taking off. If mutants hadn’t been accepted in the last two years, he doubted gay people would have.

“They’re fine,” Ororo reassured.

“And – and Scott?” He cursed himself. He sounded too hopeful, too worried, too scared.

Ororo frowned. “I think so.”

“You think so?” Bobby asked, shooting up straight. Any hope of casual was gone.

“He’s not someone I keep in contact with,” she said, smoothly. “Kurt will be more help.”

“Kurt?” he frowned. Somehow, that made him even more panicked, his mind spinning out. If that blue fuzzy elf had swooped in while he was gone…

“He runs a prayer group at the MERA,” she explained.

“Oh.” Bobby tried leaning back into his chair like he was still in the same ballpark as calm. He was being an idiot. But two years… that was a long time to be single. But even War, who had been a total playboy before Jean, hadn’t shown any signs of moving on after her death.

He needed to see Scott now.

“How long do we have until we’re home?”

“Just under six hours,” Ororo said, regretfully.

Bobby bit back a curse. It wasn’t her fault. That was just a really long time. “What? Hasn’t Hank made warp speed yet?”

His joke fell flat and the sympathy on Ororo’s face itched under his skin. He didn’t want it. There wasn’t another person in the world who could understand what he was feeling right now. “The attempts have not yet been successful. Would you like some food before we lift off?”

Bobby’s stomach answered for him, a loud rumble. He would blush, only he was that hungry. And if he was eating, maybe he would stop worrying so much about everything else.

Ororo smiled. “The snack compartment is in the same place. I can-”

“I can stand,” Bobby said quickly. He wasn’t as confident as he sounded, but he managed to push himself up and walk stiffly over. He opened it, blinking at the treasure inside. They really had left it stocked with his favourites.

He picked out a Twinkie, ripping it open and taking a large bite. It slipped down easily, the taste reminding him he was still alive.

He grabbed another, holding it out for Ororo. “Want one?” he asked through a mouthful.

“I never understood you Americans and your love of processed sugar.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” he said through another bite.

Ororo rolled her eyes. Bobby had always found it a slightly strange action for a Goddess to do. “It means no. Betsy is still in training. I need to help her lift off.”

“That’s fine,” he said. He picked another Twinkie out, eyeing the other goodies. He twisted, casting a glance towards the new member. She had removed her hood and he froze as he noticed her purple hair. He forced himself to move, shoving another bite in his mouth. He was just being jumpy. It was to be expected. No way was she the person who kidnapped him four – six – years ago. The Prof would have made sure of that, and she didn’t have the right body type.

“You’re going to need to sit down,” Ororo said, carefully, like she thought he might bug out again. Didn’t she know it was impossible to panic with a mouth full of sugar?

“Oh, right,” he nodded. He grabbed a random handful of the stock before sitting back in his chair. He dropped them on his lap before strapping himself in. “You can go. I’m fine, ‘Ro.”

She didn’t look convinced of that, but she knew the best place for him was back home. As Bobby waved his hand in a shooing motion, she moved to the cockpit. A second later, the engine kicked in, a buzzing under his feet he was familiar with. If he looked out the window, California would be turning into a dot below him.

Instead, he opened a new packet and took another bite. He felt like he was out of step with the world. It didn’t make sense, but part of him didn’t want to be speeding towards home. If everything had changed… but what else could he do? Live in a borrowed sweater and no pants on a beach in California for the rest of his life? The heat alone would drive him insane. And Ororo had said everything was fine. They were all waiting for him to get back and carry on his life right from where he left it.

It would be easy. After all, two years wasn’t that long. How much could have really happened?

Chapter Text

Bobby woke with a yell, jackknifing into sitting.

His mind was twisting, lost in a dream of falling, of pain, of dying. He pulled in a large breath, the world two steps to the side as everything came back to him. Ororo had picked him up, he was back in the mansion, everything was okay.

Only he wasn’t actually sure of that last fact.

He tried to push it to the side. It was too early to be thinking of things like that. Instead, he focused on the fact the bed was, at least, dry. Warren used to tease him about that when they had all lived here together. When he had less control over his powers, he would ice up in his sleep when he had nightmares, making it look like he still wet the bed at fourteen. He hadn’t done it in years, but if anything was going to bring it back, it would be all this.

Something important was missing.

He glanced around the room as his breathing evened out. It looked nearly the same as when he left. Someone had even dusted it. He wished they hadn’t bothered. In a way, it made it all worse. Made what was actually different all the more obvious. Like before the mission, he’d been building an ice sculpture of Batman in the corner. Every day he removed any trace of it melting. Now, there wasn’t even a puddle of water on the floor, or a splodge of mould to show how he abused the place.

He shivered. It was too warm. Someone had turned the radiator on in his room. He never put it on. He glared at it as he pushed the sheets off him. Someone had cleaned up the floor as well, his piles of organised mess removed. He had to hunt through the wardrobe to find his clothes, all smelling vaguely of being stored for too long. Well, it at least beat the stench of that stinking hippie sweater.

He had a plan on the plane to find Scott the moment he touched down but the exhaustion of it all had taken more out of him than he thought. He could barely remember Ororo waking him and guiding him back to his room.

It felt like autopilot going to the toilet and making his way downstairs. The corridors felt too empty, too quiet. They looked the same though, even if a couple more vases were missing. Bobby thought, at this point, the Prof wanted them to be destroyed. Why else would he keep them out?

Stepping into the kitchen was like entering another world. He had always said it was his favourite room in the house, and he had spent a lot of time in there. But he’d never stepped in before and had every eye turn to look at him. He did a quick glance around the table – he didn’t recognise a couple of people, and the broad from yesterday was missing, as well as Proudstar. And the kid team wasn’t here, but it was early in the morning. This may have been the first Saturday in his life that Bobby hadn’t lied in.

“Breakfast?” Logan asked, his rough grunt the same as always. He seemed to be taking it in his stride, not looking at him with the same amazed disbelief everyone else was. Bobby never thought he’d be grateful for the stinking psycho but here he was, relief flowing through him. He guessed if anyone knew what it was like to cheat death, it was Logan.

“Uh, yeah, that’ll be great.”

As he moved towards the table, he wondered if they were all gathered for a special occasion – they never used to do breakfast together – before realising he was the special occasion. The dead walked among them.

He didn’t think he was going to get used to that.

He took a seat, grabbing a pancake off a dish in the middle of the table. He didn’t know what to do, a silence heavy with expectations of… something pressed down on him. He shoved the food into his mouth so he didn’t have to deal with it.

“I’m Rogue,” one of the mutants he didn’t recognise said suddenly when it became clear he wasn’t willing to be the one to break the silence. He swallowed, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow. She had a mean looking face that was at odds with her friendly Southern accent, her short hair slicked back, the longer top streaked with white.

“Bobby,” he replied like she didn’t already know that. She’d probably got his whole life story before he made it down. She didn’t hold her hand out to shake, and he noticed she had gloves on.

“I’m afraid John took the New Mutants on a training weekend before we knew of your return,” Ororo said.

Well, at least it meant Proudstar wasn’t gone. Bobby snorted, trying to keep his voice light, wondering if it was obvious in his voice how grateful he was she was allowing him to focus on anything else right now. “Are you trying to kill them or something?”

“It’ll do them good to toughen up,” Logan said. A claw shot out his knuckle and he stabbed a sausage. So, two years hadn’t managed to teach him table manners yet.

“Hey, Kurt did you teleport them all to ‘Nam?” Bobby asked. This was easy, simple. He’d done this before. He wasn’t going to freak out.

“We ain’t in ‘Nam anymore,” Rogue said.

“And I would not do such a thing either way,” Kurt said before Bobby could try and figure that one out. “Jungles do not agree with me.”

“Anyway, that feisty demon-child did the teleporting,” Rogue said, which made nothing clearer to Bobby. Instead, he realised how she seemed to fit in the group so well. She made him more unsteady than Betsy. If anyone was going to make them realise he wasn’t needed anymore, it would be her.

“So, what war zone did Proudstar drop them in then?” Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow. It almost felt like everything was normal. “Did you put him in charge because you hate these kids?”

“John had been in charge of the team since the Professor left. Nobody has died yet,” Ororo said. “And I trust him to keep it that way.”

“Where is the Prof anyway?”

“He’s in Scotland,” she said after a slight pause.

Bobby clicked his fingers, grinning. “I knew it.”

A second of silence passed and Bobby was pretty sure everyone wanted to ask about him. No way was he ready for that yet. “Ororo said yesterday the world’s still shit.”

Logan snorted. “Didn’t know you had it in you, ‘Ro.”

“That is not a direct quote,” Ororo said before turning to him with a frown. “And, Bobby, you may have forgotten, but there are young ears present.”

“She hangs around Logan all the time. I’m sure she’s heard worse,” Rogue laughed. She had a nice laugh – sounded genuinely happy. It made Bobby feel worse that he disliked her.

He scanned the table, doing a double take at the last unknown face. Because it wasn’t unknown at all. “Kitty?” he asked, faintly.

The others hadn’t changed, not really. Maybe a few new lines on their faces, a couple more grey hairs on their head, but Kitty had been fifteen when he’d left. A kid. Now she looked like an adult. Was an adult, seeing as she was legal. Soon she’d be able to drink and join the army and she could probably already drive.

Everything hit him as he stared at her.

She gave him a little wave, clearly uncomfortable, but he couldn’t look away. Couldn’t even bring himself to blink. Only yesterday, she’d been a kid. “Hiya, Bobby.”

She didn’t even sound the same, a new confidence in her voice that she gained just from getting older. Two years was a long time for a teenager. It was a long time for everyone.

Bobby’s fork fell out his fingers, landing on his plate with a clatter. He felt numb as it all hit him. He wondered if that was going to keep happening. If he was going to keep thinking he was on top of it all, that he was standing on steady ground, and then the next wave would come crashing over his head and try and drag him back out into the Pacific.

His skin felt weird, tight, a coldness spreading through him. But not on the outside like when he iced up but like it was coming from somewhere inside of him, like something was changing inside of him. Like his blood and organs and he was no longer human.

He stood up, his chair scrapping loudly against the floor. Nobody’s eyes had left him yet, but it felt like their gazes intensified.

“I’ve got to-” he managed to push out before realising he had no idea how to explain it all. He hadn’t even managed to say hello to everyone yet. That didn’t matter. He needed to leave.

He fled back into the corridor. In this place, he didn’t need to engage his brain, could just move and find himself in a place of safety. This had been his home since he was fourteen. Nothing could change that. Only, when he pushed open Hank’s lab, it had all been replaced with medical beds.

Bobby shook his head. He wasn’t in the wrong place. He knew that. Still, he hoped he’d messed up, because this needed to be the same. He stumbled back out of the room, checking its location. But the mansion wasn’t that big, not enough for him to get turned around in.

The world came crashing back in again, threatening to pull him under. He stumbled back in, falling onto one of those beds.

Everything was wrong.

He tried closing his eyes but his skin was buzzing and the world was somehow still managing to spin in the black. He reopened them, rolling onto his side. On the bedside table, the Comet radio caught his eye.

He focused on that, let it become his whole world. His hands shook as he reached for it. It was Jeanie’s. He’d found that out after she was gone. Her stuff was still all around the mansion and, just like him, they hadn’t reassigned her room.

It was unfair, he realised, suddenly. Why did he get to come back? Why did he get a second chance? She was so much better, so much stronger, so much more powerful. And it would all be better if she was here. Everyone else had moved on from him, had been moving on from him for a while, long before he died. And now his own home had been changed. He’d always known he was standing still, but it had never felt so literal.

He didn’t belong here, not anymore.

Bobby’s hand tightened around the radio, his knuckles turning white.

He needed Scott.

The buzzing in his skin died down at the thought, the ringing in his eyes becoming distant. Yes, that had to be what was missing, what he needed to do. Everything would make sense then.

For the first time, the stink of Kurt teleporting beside him didn’t make him wince away. He was too freaked for that to bother him right now.

“Ororo said you wanted to talk to me?” Kurt asked.

He must have been purposefully ignoring the fact Bobby looked like a mess. Lying on a hospital bed with a radio in his fist, eyes stinging like the slightest thing might make him cry. He must look pathetic. War would have teased him, and so would Jeanie and Hank. That was what he wanted, what he needed. Not these people who he lived and worked with but could never quite see as family.

“Why would she say that?” he asked after he’d collected the few thoughts that were still holding together in his mind. He put the radio on the bed next to him as he sat up.

“She didn’t tell me more,” Kurt shrugged. He seemed slightly uncomfortable, like he knew this wasn’t the time to offer support to Bobby but he didn’t know how else he was meant to approach the situation.

“No idea.” Then, it struck him. “Oh, Scott.”

“He is fine,” Kurt said, answering the rest of the question that couldn’t come out.

Relief flooded Bobby. He was glad he was already sitting, pretty sure his legs would have given out on him if he wasn’t. Kurt already knew he was pathetic, there was no need to make him realise there was no hope for him by collapsing. “Is he in the same apartment?”

Please, he thought, please, give me this.

Kurt nodded, holding out his hand. He’d always had strange hands. He looked less human than Hank, but it was surprisingly easy to look past. “Do you want a lift? Those stairs are the ninth level of hell.”

“You’ve been there?” Bobby asked, and maybe it was slightly too sharp. But it was one thing to know where someone lived, and another to know how awful the staircase was.

“I like to think we’re friends,” Kurt said like he could read Bobby’s thoughts. Luckily, he couldn’t. “Scott does much good work for mutants.”

Bobby grinned and it felt like a mask but his normal one still wasn’t working. “Isn’t the ninth circle of hell cold?” he asked because he did listen to Hank sometimes.

“But that isn’t an issue for you,” Kurt replied, his teeth gleaming. “Are you ready?”

Bobby stood, glad he put on his shoes earlier. Like the Boy Scouts, the X-Men’s motto was be prepared. Unlike the Boy Scouts, it finished with because a supervillain might break down the wall and ruin your day.

“Beam me up, Scotty.”

Teleporting was a strange experience. For one, the smell was terrible. It only lasted for a second, but it always managed to clog up Bobby’s nose, and took days to wash out of his hair. Annoyingly, the whiff of rotten eggs never seemed to cling to Kurt’s fur.

Two, it was hot, like a flash fire against his skin threatening to melt it off into a bubbling mess. Any other time, he would have pre-emptively iced up to avoid the worst of it, but he was still feeling nervous about using his power. Like if he tried again he’d go overboard and lose another two years.

Three was, no matter how many times he travelled this way, it still felt like he had left most of his vital organs at the start point. As they landed in the familiar hallway, he let himself sway for a second.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asked, frowning in concern. He kept his hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

Bobby nodded, shrugging him off. “Just forgot how that felt.”

He stood up straight, taking a deep breath. The hallway looked the same, right down to the stray bug mindlessly marching its way towards the neighbour’s door. Bobby had always wondered what Dave did with them. Did he eat them? Or did they all just hang out together in some kind of messed-up family? He’d never somehow even seen Dave, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Hank said he looked normal but no way could that be true. Maybe before Scott’s, he should knock on the door and finally find out.

Or maybe he was trying to push off seeing Scott. Because it might all look the same, but that didn’t mean it was.

He hadn’t even managed to look at Scott’s door yet, all the excitement turning to an anxiousness that gnawed at his bones. He felt sick, his stomach finally making the trip and deciding it would rather be empty. He didn’t think he would feel like this, thought everything would become clearer in his mind the closer he got, not worse.

He should have rang first. What kind of resurrected man just appeared at his loved one’s doorway without warning? Even Corsair had rang, and he was pretty shit at most things when it came to his sons. Not to mention, Bobby needed proof. Nobody would just believe he had been alive this whole time, not when they lived in a world where shapeshifters not only existed, but were completely in the realm of possible people who would like to fuck with them.

A hand touched his back and Bobby jumped, biting off the girly scream which threatened to escape.

“Do not worry,” Kurt reassured, his voice soothing. “This is a miracle.”

Bobby nodded stiffly and tried to believe it. Only, from his point of view, it didn’t feel very miraculous. In fact, it mostly felt shit. But this was going to change it. Bobby could feel it. “The, has he-” Only Kurt didn’t know they were dating, didn’t know what Bobby was trying to ask.

“It is a day of great celebration. Your death shook him deeply – he will be very happy to see you.”

He tried to take strength from Kurt’s words, getting half a step closer to the door. His whole body was shaking but Kurt was right. There wasn’t a world where Scott wouldn’t be happy to see him alive.

“Can you leave?” Bobby winced as the words came out his mouth, blunter than he thought they would be. Clearly, all his time on ice hadn’t improved his manners. But he couldn’t knock on the door with Kurt still there, couldn’t contain himself that tightly. He had gone MIA for two years and he still had to think about his secrets. It was ridiculous.

Two years might have been enough to change his personal world, but the rest of it? It hadn’t moved forward at all.

If Kurt took offence at his words, he didn’t show it. He gave Bobby’s shoulder one last squeeze before disappearing into a puff of smoke. Bobby waited until the stench dissipated before taking a deep breath to calm his nerves. Finally, he turned back to the door.

This was easy.

He’d done this thousands of times before.

Okay, normally he wouldn’t knock. But this was definitely the kind of thing where knocking was required. And he remembered Hank’s story about the knife. He didn’t survive a bullet and the ocean just to be stabbed to death by his boyfriend.

If there was an afterlife, Jean would spend the whole of it teasing him for it.

He took a step forward and the corridor was too small because now his toes were resting against the edge of the door. On the other side was Scott, early enough he wouldn’t have started his weekend properly yet. Bobby could hear the faint buzz of the radio, and he could picture Scott sitting on War’s old couch, head thrown back and just listening. Or maybe he was struggling through a thick book, convinced it held the answers to mutant liberation.

He had no idea how close Bobby was.

His breath seemed trapped in his chest, expanding against his ribs in a sharp ache. He lifted up his hand – oh, it was shaking – and knocked once. The sound seemed to echo. The second ticked by.

What if Scott didn’t answer?

There was no reason why he wouldn’t. But that didn’t stop the fear, eating away at his stomach. His skin felt like it was buzzing again, and inside of him the ache of something missing was growing, adding to the pain in his chest.

It had to be Scott. The puzzle piece that would make the rest of it fall back into place.

Only… the X-Men had moved on. Why would Scott be any different?

The door opened. Time slowed down. Bobby stared resolutely forward, not even daring to blink. This was it.

“That was quick. Did you-” Scott cut off, his mouth falling open.

Bobby stared.

Scott stared back.

He looked… good. Maybe slightly more exhausted than usual, somehow, but not drowning in grief. Of course not, it had been two years. He would be over it. Over him, Bobby’s mind hissed, and he ignored it because he had no proof of that yet. Instead, he focused on the fact he was wearing the sweater vest Bobby had got him, a new stain down the front, and-

“You’ve cut your hair,” Bobby said. His voice was weak and that wasn’t meant to be his first words to him. Only, it was nearly gone, cut close to the sides, and Bobby never thought he would see the day.

Bobby ached.

Scott kept staring. His hand reached upwards, touching his glasses. Not grabbing them in anger to threaten him, but just pushing them up.

“Are you going to say anything?” Bobby asked, not able to hide the desperation in his voice. He hadn’t imagined this, what it would be like to see him again. Then again, he’d been hoping for a delusion, that Scott would take one look at him and everything would just carry on as usual. That they could just ignore the two years he had missed.

“You’re dead,” Scott replied in a voice that was trying to be flat and missing. “Bobby’s dead.”

Bobby shrugged, slipping on a devil-may-care smile that missed the mark by a mile. “I got better. I can prove it.” He suddenly realised he should have planned his explanation. Only, maybe he didn’t need to. He knew Scott well enough for this. “I brought you the radio you’re listening to. And we’ve seen the two Bond films that came out since we began to date, and we both agree Lazenby just ain’t got it. And the last time we-”

Scott stepped forward and crashed their lips together.

Bobby felt like he was floating, his mind spinning in a mixture of confusion and happiness. This was what he needed. He deepened the kiss, putting everything he was into it. One hand went up to Scott’s too-short hair, the other snaking around his back. He held him close, felt the warmth of his body against his. Vaguely, he knew it was a stupid move to be doing this in the corridor, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Only the puzzle piece didn’t slip back into place. Something was still missing.

But this was everything, right?

Too soon, Scott pulled away, panting slightly. Bobby let out a little whine.

“It’s really you,” he said, hand still pressed against Bobby’s cheek. He couldn’t see his eyes, but he knew he was being scanned. Every line of his face being compared to the Bobby in Scott’s memory, the Bobby he last saw two years ago.

“Did my ramblings give it away, or was it the kiss?” Bobby asked, still slightly breathless.

Scott smirked. “A bit of both. Do you know you moan slightly every time? It has a real precise tone.”

“I do not!”

“You do. But mostly, it’s because the whole corridor smells of Kurt.”

“Three cheers for stinky teleporters.”

They smiled at each other and for a second, it was perfect.

Then, Scott sighed, stepping backwards, his face turning serious. “You should come in.”

Chapter Text

Bobby followed Scott into the apartment. The mood inside felt heavy, like the gravity was too strong, his limbs dragging. Scott gestured for him to take a seat on the couch. Bobby was right, it was the same one War had given him. Not a surprise, if it wasn’t for Jean, he wasn’t sure they would have been able to get one up to the floor.

Before he stepped around, Scott kicked something under the couch. He was trying to be subtle but Bobby noticed. Of course, he did. Scott never left anything lying around. He couldn’t help but think Scott had been expecting someone who wasn’t him.

He knew he should be taking everything in, playing spot the difference, but he couldn’t bring himself to see the changes. It was all too much. Instead, Bobby sat on the couch, slightly more scruffy than two years ago. Scott turned off the radio (Bobby had been right about that too, it was the one he had brought him) and stood in front of him, looking down. For the first time in years, being around Scott felt awkward. It shouldn’t. But there was so much they needed to say, and neither of them wanted to be the one to begin.

“Sit down,” Bobby finally said, breaking the silence. He slapped the space beside him. “You’re looming.”

He thought Scott had been waiting for that invitation, wanting Bobby to say what he was comfortable with. Instead, his hands reached for his glasses, pushing them snug as he thought it all through. Then, carefully, he took a seat.

What the hell had happened to them?

Oh, yeah.

Bobby had disappeared for two years.

Scott took a seat far enough away that they weren’t touching. Right now, Bobby wanted nothing more than to be held but he couldn’t ask Scott for that. While he may have kissed him outside, it didn’t seem like he wanted to do that. He wasn’t even looking at Bobby, his head staring dead ahead, holding himself stiffly.

Bobby wished he had left the radio on. The silence felt like it could swallow him whole. He needed noise. He needed to speak – say anything – so he wouldn’t get lost in the emptiness.

“How’s the MERA?” Bobby asked. He didn’t care. It wasn’t important.

Scott nodded his head, still stiff. Why couldn’t he relax? He had said he knew it was Bobby, but he was still acting like he was a stranger. Only Bobby hadn’t changed in the last two years, which meant it Scott was the one who had. “Good. It’s… doing good.”

“Right.”

The silence loomed over them once again. Nope, this wasn’t going to happen. Bobby threw his head back and groaned, long and low. Scott looked at him. Didn’t smile like he normally would or anything, but he looked. That had to mean something. Then again, the kiss had to have meant something but it wasn’t helping right now.

“Hank said you were dead,” Scott said, voice carefully flat. Only it wasn’t completely working, because he couldn’t hide the almost accusing tone under it. Like Bobby would have done something like this by his own choice. (Only, maybe Scott would assume that, because that’s what his father did, wasn’t it?)

Bobby touched his chest where the bullet went in. Where he thought the bullet went in because his chest was still smooth, no gory wound ripping open while he slept. “I fell into the ocean.”

Scott already knew that, nodding his head. His hand was deliberately still on his knees, and Bobby could feel his eyes slipping off him. “Do you, uh, know where you’ve been?”

“Floating around,” Bobby shrugged, trying to keep his voice light like it was no big deal.

Scott frowned, and his hands twitched like he wanted to comfort Bobby before thinking better of it. “You mean…”

“I can’t remember it.” His voice cracked, and if he was with anyone else, it would be embarrassing. But this was Scott, and he understood that even on a superhero team things like this weren’t normal. In fact, it was more normal for Scott. He was the one with a family that couldn’t stay dead. “I think I deep froze myself to survive.”

“Is that possible?” Scott sounded curious, which was at least something Bobby could understand.

“I haven’t talked to Hank yet.”

“You haven’t?” Scott shifted, that fact clearly making him more uncomfortable.

“You’re the first person I’ve seen that isn’t the team.”

Scott’s hands went to his glasses again. He was hiding something, that much was clear, and he wished Hank had spilt the beans before they met. Two years was a long time and Bobby wasn’t the idiot everyone thought he was. He could guess what happened, why Scott had been expecting someone, why he was acting this way. What else could it possibly be?

Bobby clapped his hands together to hype himself up, causing Scott to flinch. He didn’t want to ask but he didn’t think Scott was going to get it out on his own. Really, it was better for everyone to rip the band-aid off quickly. Much better for Bobby. “So, you got yourself a new man?”

The guilt on Scott’s face was undeniable. Bobby’s stomach sank and he looked away. He thought he prepared himself, but nothing really could. It felt like a knife to his chest. Like a bullet ripping through him. Only he didn’t know what that felt like.

“Bobby-” Scott began.

He shook his head, his hands clenching into fists and bunching up in his jeans. “No. It’s cool. I’ve been gone a long time. Of course, you wouldn’t wait. That’s stupid.”

“I thought you were dead.”

“I said I understand.” Bobby suddenly realised he shouldn’t have come here. Probably shouldn’t have even woken back up. Nobody had wanted or expected him to come back. Nobody had been missing him. Maybe if it had been a month, or six, he could have salvaged something. But two years? That was too long. They had laid him to rest and were getting on with the rest of their lives. Until he’d come back and ruined it all.

Bobby stood, feeling like a fool. Had he really thought he would just be able to walk back into his own life?

Only, before he could walk off, Scott’s hand grabbed his. An anchor in the storm, holding him still, keeping his feet on the ground. He squeezed it and Bobby looked down at it, at the connection between them. Scott was wearing his watch. He didn’t wear it on missions, leaving it at home. Hank must have given it to him afterwards. Wasn’t that proof he still cared? That he had missed Bobby and was still thinking about him? It gave him the strength to look at his face, at his concerned mouth pulled down at the sides and his worried brows drawn together.

“We’ll work this out,” Scott said and it was clear he meant it. Bobby wanted to laugh.

“It’s not that easy.” He went to pull his hand away but Scott wouldn’t let go. He sighed. “Do you love him?”

“I never stopped loving you,” Scott replied, which didn’t answer his question at all. Only it kind of did.

Bobby bit his lip before falling back onto the couch. He felt… empty. He knew he should be feeling something. Knew he should probably be angry because that was always the first emotion he felt when everything became too much. But all he was left with was an emptiness in his chest and a missing piece that he couldn’t find.

This was it.

The end of everything.

He didn’t die two years ago. But maybe he should have.

He was closer to Scott this time, their legs resting against each other and their hands still joined. And this time, Scott didn’t move away.

“Do I know him?” Bobby asked, his mouth moving even while his brain wasn’t connected. It couldn’t be, not when he was asking questions like that. His breath was caught in his throat, half of him wanting to know and half of him wanting to bury his head in the sand and never come up again.

“I don’t think-”

Bobby pulled his hand away, scowling. A flash of anger that faded too quickly. Maybe that was why he asked, so he could remember how to feel again. “Don’t tell me what I should and shouldn’t do right now.”

“No,” Scott said after a long pause, face like he was sucking a lemon.

“Huh.” At least he didn’t have to scrutinise everyone he knew, replay every conversation he’d ever seen Scott having. It was like picking at a scab – he knew he should leave it but he couldn’t stop. Like maybe he needed the pain right now. “I guess I’m going to end up meeting him.”

“No!” Scott said, a little too quickly, a little too panicked. He didn’t want that to happen. Bobby frowned, not sure why.

He narrowed his eyes. “I’m going to eventually. There aren’t that many mutants around.”

“They’re not.”

Bobby blinked, the words not going in.

Scott touched his glasses again, his awkwardness rolling off him in waves. “They’re not a mutant.”

Bobby nearly laughed. The thought of Scott dating a human was ridiculous. Impossible, almost. It wasn’t that Scott had anything against humans, but his whole life revolved around mutants, and mutant rights, and what would he have in common with them? Let alone date. No, it just wouldn’t line itself up in Bobby’s head. “Does he know you’re one?”

“Uh, yeah. Of course.” Scott said it like it was obvious.

Bobby shuffled on the couch. He had hoped for a second, maybe, that there would be a crack there. A sign that things weren’t as perfect as Bobby had been imagining. That maybe there was still a chance.

He wanted to wake up and discover this was all a dream. He hadn’t died, or gone missing, or whatever, and the whole world would start making sense again.

“Where do I fit in all this?” he asked. He didn’t mean for it to sound so pathetic.

He missed Jeanie. She was the person he would normally go to with this stuff. Scott was the second choice, that was why Bobby was still here. There was nobody else. Hank would be useless with the personal side, and he didn’t want to rub his resurrection in War’s face by bitching about relationship problems, and nobody on the team would work seeing as none of them knew. Well, Wolverine definitely knew, but Bobby would rather die than take his issues to him.

Scott touched his glasses again. He was doing it a lot; Bobby wished he would stop. Before (and now there was a Before, which meant they were now in the After and everything had changed), Scott said he never felt comfortable when everyone turned to him for answers and expected him to just know the answer. That was what Bobby was doing now, begging him to solve it instantly for him. Not just where they stood, but all of his new life. Because Bobby just couldn’t work it out.

“You’ll be fine,” Scott said and he didn’t believe it. Maybe two years was long enough to make Scott forget he couldn’t lie to him well, but for Bobby, it had only been two days and he could see through his bullshit.

Bobby jumped up again. Finally, a spark of anger that wasn’t dying down. That was all he was getting though, even as he cupped in close and begged it to grow. “I should leave.”

He didn’t want to, not as much as he should. But Scott didn’t disagree. They both knew whatever they had was over. They were nothing.

Bobby had always known he was going to end up alone.

After all, he was gay. People like him didn’t get a happily ever after. But it was more than that. He didn’t think he was the sort of person who got it even if he was normal. He just knew it.

And now the day had finally arrived and he realised he hadn’t spent any time preparing.

But Scott still followed him up, standing too close to him. “I still love you, Bobby. I’m never going to stop doing that.”

Bobby shut his eyes for a second. What he wanted to hear only it was all wrong. It wasn’t a deceleration of eternal love. It was a goodbye.

A traitorous part of him wondered if he could kiss Scott again. They already had. Surely whatever morality existed in these situations, it was okay. But where would that leave him? With false hope? A belief that maybe it would all work out for him? No, it was better to have a clean break. Maybe he could go find War and beg for a job at his company and make a new life. Forget all about Scott and forget all about the X-Men while he was at it.

Scott wasn’t going to choose him. Nobody chooses Bobby, not if there was anyone else around.

He stepped backwards, not quite believing he was going to walk away. That wasn’t like him, he fought for things. That was why he was in this mess in the first place, because he couldn’t just die. But the anger spark he’d tried to grow was gone.

He turned, going to the front door. He could feel Scott’s eyes on his back and he wanted him to stop him. He wanted Scott to prove what he said, that he still loved him. But he didn’t. Bobby reached for the door handle-

And jumped backwards with a yelp as it opened from the other side. A woman walked through, red hair and a baby in her arms.

“Scott, I swear to God those stairs are slowly killing me,” she said as she dropped her handbag on the floor by the door, a loaf of bread sticking out the top. “We need to-” she cut off as she turned and finally saw Bobby standing there, his hand still stretched outwards for the door.

She frowned, a deep line between her eyebrows. Bobby stared at her. He knew he should stop. Only, in this exact moment, she looked exactly like Jean. Then, she shifted the baby on her hip and ‘exactly’ died down to a freakish resemblance. She looked past him at Scott. “Whose this?”

He could feel something coming from Scott, a warning. Only Bobby didn’t know if it was for him or her. “Maddie-” he began.

“I’m Bobby,” he said, cutting over and praying that spark might come back.

“Are you one of Scott’s friends?” she asked, still confused but trying to put on a smile. And Bobby was finally getting a real feeling, only it wasn’t anger or sadness or whatever you were meant to feel after his shit show of the last couple of days.

It was dread.

“Use to be,” he grinned back, slightly too wide. “I died for a while.”

She paled slightly at that and tried to play it off with a laugh, but Bobby saw it. “Died?”

“Yeah, I’m not over it yet either.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I’m just going.”

“You can stay for coffee,” she suggested. She seemed nice. That just made the dread grow bigger. He didn’t think he wanted to stick around.

Only, behind him, he heard Scott step closer. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. And that pissed Bobby off. He wasn’t a secret. (Only he was, they both were, that was just the way the world worked.)

“Why not?” the woman – Maddie – asked.

Bobby turned to face him and he should stop. But the last time Bobby had seen him like this it was around Alex, when he was worried his brother might find out he was gay. Which, in hindsight, was a real smart move. Probably would be here as well, only, yeah, Bobby didn’t like this one bit. “Yeah, Scott, why not?”

“You don’t like coffee, Bobby. And Nate needs his sleep.”

“I can be quiet,” he said. He guessed Nate was the baby.

Scott looked at him, his face twisted into a panicked grimace. “Bobby. Leave. Please.”

“Oh my God,” Maddie said, nothing more than an exhale of breath. She stepped backwards, for a second looking like she might faint. Then, she shook her head, holding the baby closer to her. “You’re Bobby, aren’t you?”

“Maddie-” Scott began and Bobby wondered if he spoke in full sentences anymore or if he just lived with being cut off constantly.

“No,” she said, still shaking her head. “No, you can’t be.”

Bobby should have dropped it. He knew that. Because he didn’t want it to be confirmed, even though it was obvious, even though he already knew. Only his mouth was already moving. “Scott, who is she?”

Scott swallowed, his hands thankfully staying at his side as he let out a long breath. “Bobby. This is Maddie. She’s my wife.”

Chapter Text

They were fighting in the bedroom.

Bobby wondered if he should leave. Only the shock from Scott’s statement had turned the world fuzzy and he wasn’t sure how much time had passed by now Scott and his…

They were fighting in the bedroom.

And Bobby was listening to them.

It reminded him of when his parents used to fight when he was young. Screaming matches that felt like they shook the walls. It had been about him back then as well.

Because Scott had kept him nice and quiet, and Maddie was pissed.

She should be.

Scott didn’t have the right to do that to her.

Bobby felt like he couldn’t move, trapped between the door and the couch, stuck to the ground like one of his ice statues. He didn’t understand how all this was happening. Didn’t understand how Scott could have done something like this.

Sure, Scott had always been resistant to calling himself gay, like Bobby was the exception rather than the rule, but it was bullshit. Bobby knew that. They had joked together about a lot of hot and unattainable men. (Never someone who they would actually have a chance with, like those at the bars, but Peck? Connery? It was like a reminder Bobby wasn’t alone, that it was normal to have those thoughts.)

Only now he had done this? Not just dating a girl like Bobby had done with Zelda before he accepted the inevitable.

Scott had started a family.

Bobby knew Scott. And the Scott he knew wouldn’t build a life on a lie like this. Wouldn’t lie about love. And he would never bring a child into his fucked up fantasy he’d built.

None of it made sense.

More than that, it made Bobby feel sick.

All that emotion that had felt drained out of him was suddenly back, churning in his stomach and threatening to spill the couple of bites of breakfast he managed to get down this morning. He wished he was empty again.

The Scott next door couldn’t be the one Bobby had spent the last five years with, wasn’t the Scott he’d fallen in love with. Sure, what they had was a secret, but neither of them was dishonest. And Scott was a good man, whatever was in his past. But a good man wouldn’t do this. But what could have possibly changed?

Alex.

The answer came with another sickening stomach roll. Bobby had always suspected if Scott knew his family was still alive, he wouldn’t have dated him. They had just all come back into his life when he was in too deep. And then Bobby had died, and he was freed from all that.

And here was the proof.

He wondered how Scott told Alex, if he pretended Bobby was the bad guy his brother believed. After all, why would it matter? Bobby was dead.

Only he hadn’t been. And now his lies had been exposed.

The baby was crying, loud shrieks as he listened to his family pull itself apart. And that was the part Bobby really couldn’t get his head around. With the way Scott was raised, why would he even think to bring a child into something loveless? Each cry felt like it was piercing his brain, sending him back to falling into the ocean. Only he never hit it, so he was just lost in the free fall. The air blowing past his face, the agony in his chest, the ringing of a gun in his ears.

The knowledge that this was the end.

The bedroom door opened and shut behind him, echoing as loud as the fighting. Finally, Bobby remembered how to move, turning, both glad and pissed when he saw Scott. Better him than Maddie. What would he even say to her? That he was sorry? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

Scott’s hand was on the bridge of his nose like he wanted to pinch it but didn’t dare take off his glasses. He paused mid-step when he saw Bobby was still there.

Bobby’s shields were down, his power was locked up somewhere in his head. He couldn’t ice up and he couldn’t grin and joke and pretend the world he had come back to wasn’t fucked.

“She’s right,” he said instead, bitterness in his voice.

Scott flinched like Bobby had hit him before sighing. In the bedroom, the baby had quietened down, only letting out a few pitiful wails as Maddie hummed a soft tune. Maybe when Maddie had screamed she couldn’t stand the sight of Scott right now, she had been talking for the baby as well.

“What? That I’m sick? That I shouldn’t be around my own kid?” Scott asked, folding his arms over his chest, setting his jaw.

“No,” Bobby said. He stepped towards him, glaring. Normally, he was ice, but his anger had always burned like wildfire. And he wasn’t going to let Scott try and twist this conversation into rights, how he should be allowed to have kids. He didn’t. Not like this. “You shouldn’t have married her.”

“You were gone, Bobby.”

He snorted, angrily. “So, that means everything is okay? That means you can mess up someone else’s life?”

Scott’s hands tightened into fists at his side. He let out of breath, slowly loosening them up again. Alex might be the brother who was known for his anger issues, but that didn’t mean Scott didn’t have any. He had told Bobby it was inevitable, growing up the way he did. But he was good at controlling it, holding it tightly to his chest and letting it simmer before he could release it slowly in clipped tones and locked jaws and the flashing of his eyes behind his glasses. He directed it into solving mutant injustice. Sometimes, Bobby wished he could just yell and break stuff like the rest of them.

Scott didn’t have his shit in order, that was pretty clear, so why was he even pretending?

“Can we not fight?” he asked, careful and in control.

“Why the fuck did I stay?” Bobby replied, shaking his head. “What did I think I was going to get from this?”

“Why did you?” Scott asked, desperately trying not to raise his voice. It felt good that he was barely succeeding. “If you’re just going to judge me? I never forgot you, Bobby, but what should I have done? Stayed still for the rest of my life? Because you weren’t coming back.”

“This isn’t about that.” Though it was, slightly. Because Scott had left him, trading him in for the one thing Bobby could never ever be. “This isn’t who you are. You preach accepting yourself and then you go and do this?”

“I love her,” Scott said, softly.

Bobby snorted. Scott sounded like he believed it, said it in the same tone of voice that he said it to Bobby. It was just sad. Because Bobby had never tricked himself into thinking he already loved Zelda, just maybe he could one day, if he tried hard enough. But he realised he was wrong. It was impossible.

“Just because you can’t love a woman doesn’t mean nobody can,” Scott said, and they were still on the same wavelength. Almost funny, if Bobby didn’t want to punch him.

“Don’t act like you’re different from me.”

“I am, Bobby. I always have been. And I tried to tell you and you refused to listen. You’re still refusing to listen. Maybe if Nate… but he did, so we couldn’t take things slow. Life happens, even when you’re dead.”

“You’re rationalising a lie. You know as well as I do, you can’t be fixed. People have tried before, Scott. That’s why we got kidnapped.”

Scott flinched again and at another time, Bobby would feel bad. Only they had never talked about it before, skirted around the issue because Scott didn’t want to. And now? Now that was pissing Bobby off as well. “It’s not about that.”

“You’re going to have to choose.”

“Between Maddie and you?” There was a bite to his voice, a threat. And Scott still didn’t get it.

“No. Between who you’re pretending to be and who you actually are.”

“Oh?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow. For a guy who claimed he didn’t want to fight, he was more than willing to take a dirty shot. “So, this has nothing to do with your fear of being alone? Of being left behind?”

“It’s not like I had a choice, Scott. As you’re so fond of reminding me, I pretty much died. I just don’t think you would go backwards while I was gone.”

“You know what your problem is, Bobby?” Scott stepped towards him and it reminded Bobby of the first time they’d met at Mr Blevins’ bar, Bobby realised Scott was actually dangerous, could actually hurt him. But he wasn’t going to back down, trying to stare him down like all the time they knew each other hadn’t taught Bobby you can’t win a staring competition with a guy you can’t see the eyes of. “You’re insecure in yourself, and you make it everyone else’s issue. You’re going on about accepting yourself, but you’ve put all your self worth on me. And now I’m not doing what you want, you’re getting angry about it.”

“And you’re an asshole.” It was a weak comeback. Barely a scratch compared to Scott’s stabs. But Bobby meant it. “You’re emotionally stunted and you can’t admit when you fuck up, and you’re so desperate for affection from a brother who will never care about you that you’ve had a kid with a woman who looks freakishly like my dead best friend.”

“This wasn’t for Alex,” Scott pushed out between clenched teeth. No mention of the last bit, so he must have noticed how much she looked like Jean too. And wasn’t that a kick in the teeth, because Bobby had known that years ago and maybe it was all in front of him this whole time and he just refused to see it. Like walking into Scott’s apartment, he’d refused to see the plainly obvious now baby stuff just hanging around. He was always real good at ignoring what he didn’t want to see. Having Scott – having one good thing to come back to – was always a pipe dream.

“No? Oh, so you’re just blindly following all the steps on how to be a real man? You’re as bad as your dad.”

Three flinches in one argument. Bobby could play dirty too. “No. I’m better than him. I will be better than him.”

“Oh, and you’ve done so well. You what? Started off by lying to his mother.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Oh, so she knew I was a man? Because from where I was standing, it didn’t sound like that.”

“I just… missed details out.”

“Pretty fucking big detail,” Bobby laughed, and he had no idea he could make a sound that bitter until it was out of his mouth. “How did you even manage to? Like that photograph you have of me? Did you throw that out?”

“No. I would never do that.”

Bobby snorted, ignoring the fact that probably meant something because this was all too much. “So, you just kept it hidden. Pretended I was some woman. Well, this new life you’ve made for yourself sounds so fun. I hope you enjoy it all.” He went to turn, but something was playing at the corner of his mind, trying to grab his attention. The last nail in the coffin. He turned back, his voice surprisingly level. “How old is he?”

“Who?” Scott asked, the anger fading into confusion. Once, he would have followed that jump in Bobby’s mind. But two years was a long time. Long enough for Scott to turn into a different man. But, and while Bobby wasn’t an expert in kids, not long enough to have a kid that big. Not if you wanted to include a grieving process.

“Nate? Your child?”

Scott’s frown deepened. He knew he had to tread carefully, he just didn’t know why. Figures. “Seven months.”

Bobby did the maths before letting out a laugh. “Eight months, Scott? Assuming you fucked on the first date? How long was it?”

“Bobby-”

“No. Tell me.”

Scott bit his lip. He didn’t want to. But he seemed to realise Bobby was going to find out either way. “I met her at the electronics store. Five months, after you… after you died. I didn’t mean for it all to happen. It just did.”

Bobby shook his head, finally fully turning to the door. He was done. Because Scott was right, it had been about that. War had mourned for a year before he even looked at another woman, and, as far as Bobby was aware, he hadn’t run out and started a new family at the first opportunity. He’d been heartbroken. Scott hadn’t waited half a year.

And that was all Bobby needed to hear. He placed his hand on the door but he didn’t push it open yet. He needed to make one thing clear. He didn’t look a Scott. No, he would punch him in the face if he did that. “If you decide to stop ruining everyone’s lives, don’t come crawling to me. I wasted five years of my life on you. I’m not going to waste another second.”

It felt like a bullet to the chest.

He hoped Scott felt the same.

Bobby left.

Chapter Text

If asked, Bobby wouldn’t be able to say where he’d been for the last nine hours. It was a blur of New York streets as he stumbled around in a circle feeling slightly sick. He had tried to spot the difference, make note of the different shops, the new cracks on the sidewalks, if there were more cars, more people. The buzzing atmosphere of the weekend, even a cold weekend, did little to stop his mind spinning and the emptiness that ate away in his chest.

He didn’t know when he decided the best way to deal with it all was getting so drunk he would forget Scott Summers ever existed, but he did know why he picked the first gay bar he ever went in to do it.

That was the place that had opened his eyes to the whole world hiding in the shadows of the streets he had thought he knew. Where he realised he wasn’t alone, that lots of people felt like him.

And, right now, he felt alone again. Like he was the only person left who couldn’t pretend. Who was sick, an ill freak who couldn’t control himself.

Not to mention, it was fun. Sure, it was still early, the true crowds hadn’t gathered yet, but the drinks were flowing and people were flirting and it was hard to wallow in a place like this. That had been his theory anyway. In reality, it wasn’t working as simply as he thought it would.

He wanted to wipe Scott from his mind like this place had fixed the wall he’d blasted through. Only, maybe that wasn’t possible, because if he squinted his eyes through the dingy lighting and smoke haze, he could see the bricks they’d fix it with were a shade off. A scar.

Bobby downed his shot.

It burned in that good way that reminded him he was, somehow, still alive. That he was strong. Because if the Pacific couldn’t keep him down, why would a breakup? Why would a man who was living a lie drown him?

If he was sensible, he would go back to the mansion. But there it would be easier to wallow, the loneliness of a place that no longer felt like home. He couldn’t face it. Not yet.

“Bobby?” a low, disbelieving voice called across the bar. Suddenly, he was thrown years back in time, to the same voice in the same tone calling out for Scott under the name Alex. He knew it was just nostalgia that made him think it was easy back then – he’d been drowning then too, under the weight of what he was.

Maybe coming here wasn’t his smartest move, if he wanted to forget. He turned to Clyde and tried to turn his scowl into a smile, but in his death he had seemed to have forgotten how to do that.

Maybe the world had changed in the two years he was gone but bars like these were always outside of real time. In the future, at least until the doors got kicked in and they were pulled kicking and screaming into the real, shitty world. No, it was nowhere close to catching up with men like Clyde yet.

As he walked towards him in his high heels and a minidress that he probably should have aged out of, Bobby wondered what Jean would think if she ever met him. If she thought it was a compliment, a joke, or if he was mocking her. She always used to go on about that, about women’s clothing, and Bobby never listened that much, because if she hated it that much, why did she still wear it?

He wished she was here, would give an organ or two to hear her complain about anything. Only, not in this bar. She would never dare to enter a gay bar, and Bobby was thankful. This wasn’t his friend’s world, and she didn’t belong here any more than Bobby belonged at Jean’s women's circles. But he wished she was still alive. He wouldn’t need to be in a bar if he still had her.

“Uh, hi,” Bobby said. He felt awkward, like knowing how to act had been lost somewhere in the Pacific. He needed another drink.

“Hi?” Clyde asked, hands on his hips. “Hi? I heard you were dead but all Jesus is giving us is hi?”

Bobby winced. Great, Scott had told everyone before he decided to write Bobby out of his personal history. “Not Jesus.”

“You don’t say. If he was here, he’d be sending us on the express highway to hell. You just look like you want to drink yourself there.”

“Only if you’re buying.” Bobby’s wink felt forced. Usually, seeing Clyde cheered him up. He always seemed so… out there, happy, like the real world didn’t touch him. But Bobby had always known that was a front. He wasn’t an idiot – he saw how much Clyde drank, knew there was a whole load he wasn’t saying.

Clyde didn’t seem to mind, throwing back his head and laughing. His good laugh as well, the one that came from his chest. “You young men are forgetting your chivalry. You know you’re meant to buy for me. But I haven’t had a young thing hanging off my arms for a while, so why not?”

Bobby snorted. He was twenty-five now. Missed two years of his life and now he was meant to be at the age where he had everything in order. His parents had been married at his age, and what did he have? “Not young anymore.”

“And yet you’re as handsome as ever. Now, don’t you move as I get you a drink.” He held up his finger threateningly before turning on his heel and making his way towards the bar.

Bobby looked after him for a second before glaring into the bottom of his empty shot glass. Maybe this was what he needed, a chance to talk to someone who wasn’t connected to the shit show of his real life. And someone who knew about Scott, could maybe understand.

Bobby seemed to blink and Clyde was back, drinks in hand. “Move over. I need to convince these men I’ve got better options than them.”

Bobby shuffled over without complaint, giving Clyde the room to squeeze into his side of the table. He didn’t think he was actually doing any favours for him, but the compliments were nice. Even if it was a bit like being complimented by his ma – he doubted Clyde actually meant it.

Bobby took a sip of the beer given to him, wishing it was something stronger. When he looked back up, Clyde was leaning forward, eyebrow raised.

“Well, spill then.”

And Bobby could hardly keep quiet. Clyde had brought him a drink after all. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Start at the death part. Or is that some mutant thing us lowly humans couldn’t possibly understand?”

Bobby blinked, a wave of fear rising in him. “What? You know I’m a-” his voice turned to a hiss, “-mutant?”

Clyde’s eyebrow got higher. “You know your boyfriend started a riot, right?”

“He didn’t start that riot,” Bobby said before scowling. “And he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

“Ah,” Clyde said, shifting closer, a shine in his eye. Another way Clyde reminded him of his ma – they were both obsessed with gossip. (At the back of his mind, he knew he needed to tell his parents he was still alive, but he didn’t want to think about that yet. How could he explain it all? Normal people didn’t go missing for two years.) “So, your death was metaphorical?”

“No. Yes.” Bobby groaned, resisting the urge to smash his head into the table. “I’ve spent the last two years floating around the Pacific.”

“On a cruise?”

Bobby gave him a disbelieving look. “No.”

“Oh, so it is a mutant thing?”

“Stop saying that!” Bobby hissed, looking around. Nobody was listening in, but he really didn’t want to rock the boat. He turned back to Clyde, curious. “Do you really not care?”

Clyde shrugged. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, hun, but I’m wearing a dress right now.”

Bobby laughed and it was almost real. He was unable to argue with that. “And now I’m back. And it sucks.”

“So,” Clyde asked slowly, “where does Scott come into all this?”

“He’s a liar.”

Clyde raised his eyebrow and he could say a lot with that one movement. Bobby hadn’t come here to talk about Scott, only now he had started, he found he didn’t want to stop.

He sighed. “He’s married. With a kid.”

Clyde, for the first time since Bobby had met him, was speechless. That was apparently more shocking than Bobby coming back from the dead. Figures. Clyde shook his head, taking a long sip of his drink like he was trying to wash that information down. A beer, which Bobby found amusing. Because Clyde was so feminine and then he would do something completely and obviously male and it would just look so out of place. Jean would never – but, then, Jean was actually a woman.

“Huh,” he finally said. “That would explain why I haven’t seen him around recently.”

“Five fucking months. That’s how long he waited.” And that was what kept bouncing around Bobby’s head on repeat. He couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. But the truth was written out in front of him, impossible to escape.

“Honey.”

Bobby shrugged off Clyde’s hand. He didn’t want to be comforted. In fact, he wouldn’t mind if somebody wanted to get angry with him. But he still could drum up enough of anything in his body on his own. “I don’t get it. He thinks he loves her.”

Clyde bit his bright red lip, fingers tapping an irregular rhythm on the side of his glass. “He could be bisexual.”

Bobby snorted. “Please. That’s just code for gay but not out. They don’t love their families, or they would be here.”

“Not always,” Clyde shrugged. “I’ve gone with a few.”

“Really?” Bobby asked, a sceptical eyebrow raised. It didn’t make sense to him. If someone could pick, why would they ever pick this?

“They’re good for a fuck.”

Bobby blinked, feeling like he missed out on a part of the conversation. “What?”

“Look, kid, bisexuals are good for a fuck, but they’re always going to end up like your Scott,” Clyde shrugged.

“Not my Scott anymore,” Bobby muttered.

For a second, Clyde looked guilty. “If I knew…”

“Yeah, well, nobody did.” Only Scott had tried to warn him enough times. Bobby just didn’t want to hear it. Maybe because he knew it was always going to end up here.

“Some of them decide they need a night off and come back down,” Clyde said, and that was probably meant to be reassuring.

“Scott wouldn’t do that,” Bobby scowled. He didn’t want to defend Scott, but he knew that was true. Anyway, even if Scott did do that (and Bobby couldn’t be completely sure, because it turned out he didn’t know Scott very well at all), it wasn’t going to be with Bobby. He wasn’t going to be pulled into that new level of bullshit. He groaned. “It’s not fair. I don’t want to be someone’s fun.”

“There’s plenty of men out there who will stay with you.”

“Oh, yeah? I don’t see you with a long term man.”

Clyde flicked back his hair. “I don’t want a long term man but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. But take some advice from someone who has been around the block a few times, until you find him, have some fun.” Clyde downed the rest of his beer in one long gulp before standing. “There’s a guy at the bar who’s got his eye on you. If nothing else, go get yourself another free drink.”

Bobby followed his gaze, wrinkling up his nose. “That guy’s older than you.”

Clyde gasped, pressing his hand on his chest. “I’ll have you know, I’m not a day over twenty-seven.”

“I thought you said you’ve been around the block a few times?”

“Not with a walker,” he grinned and Bobby found himself smiling back without conscious thought. “Think about it, Bobby. Now, I’m off to find someone who will actually buy me a drink – I expect you to go have some fun.”

He reached down and gave Bobby’s shoulder a tight squeeze. This time, he let it happen, trying to draw some comfort out of it. He had hoped talking to Clyde would make him feel better, but instead, he just felt like more of an idiot. He should have known this was going to happen.

As Clyde walked off, Bobby looked back up at the man at the bar. Clyde had said free drinks and a bit of fun were practically guaranteed to clear up his heartbreak. Bobby hadn’t done this the first time, he had Scott, why would he? But maybe he should. Maybe this was what he was missing. And it wasn’t like it was too soon. Scott hadn’t spent his time hanging around, mourning. So why should Bobby give it time?

It would be like spitting in his face. Not that Scott would know. But Bobby would. It made him feel slightly better.

Just not with that old guy. Bobby knew he could find better than that.

He drowned the rest of his drink and stood. It was about time he took control of his new life.

Chapter Text

Bobby jackknifed in bed.

He’d been in pain, a burning in his chest, something hot and deadly ripping through him. He’d been falling, the air whistling past him as he tumbled down.

He was going to die.

Only, he was fine. It was just a dream. He was in one piece. But he still felt strange. The sensation that had been bothering him since he got back only now it wasn’t just in his chest, it was encompassing all of him. He went to take a deep breath, wanted to see if forcing more oxygen into his bloodstream might make it all make sense.

That was when he realised he wasn’t breathing.

The panic at the fact engulfed his mind and any plans on staying calm went out the window. Only, it didn’t flow through his body in the way he was used to, the way it was meant to. His heartbeat didn’t skyrocket, blood didn’t roar in his ears, his hands didn’t shake. There was a disconnect between his emotions and the rest of him.

Right now, it wasn’t a bad thing. It meant he could keep his head above the waves.

He tried to breathe again, this time realising he could pull air into his lungs, it just didn’t do anything. Slowly, it escaped back out, like there was an empty cavity in his chest where his lungs should be.

He looked down, trying to see through the dark. Only, he couldn’t see himself. He lifted his hand up in front of his face, the dark mass of the blanket slipping off it. He waved it in front of his face a couple of times.

It was there. He knew it was there. But he couldn’t see it.

It was like he was a ghost. Like he had actually died.

Oh, he realised, the panic still distant as his body refused to play along. His heart wasn’t pumping adrenaline around his system because his heart wasn’t pumping at all. I’m dreaming.

Then, he frowned. Usually, he woke up at that point. He blamed too much alcohol last night. He always had weird dreams after he drank, always woke up feeling like he hadn’t rested at all. Especially since he had gotten old enough that he had hangovers that threatened to crack the world apart.

He gave it a second longer, just to confirm he wasn’t going to wake up. Nothing. He bit his lip, his flesh refusing to give way to his teeth. In fact, the whole sensation was muffled. Not that he couldn’t feel it, just… distant. Like everything else.

He could still touch though, and he kicked the sheets off himself. So, he wasn’t completely a ghost. He stood. If he wasn’t going to wake up, he might as well see what his mind had in store for him. Maybe it was trying to tell him something.

He crossed the room, the wall a lot closer than he thought it would be. In fact, even in the dark, he could tell the whole room was wrong. That distant panic tried to twist his stomach but it seemed to be in the same state as his heart.

He thought back. The last thing he remembered was Hank’s. He’d phoned up Ororo when he left the bar, failing to have the fun Clyde prescribed for him. It turned out, not only had Scott decided to be normal, he’d also ruined Bobby being a freak.

That was, at least, one advantage of his heart not beating – it couldn’t ache either. He didn’t remember the trip to Hank’s, a blur that concluded with him face down on the floor of his best friend’s apartment laughing at the fact a genius like Hank had ended up in Mutant Town. It wasn’t so funny now – there wasn’t anywhere else Hank would have ever been allowed to end up, not looking the way he did.

Of course, none of that information actually mattered.

Bobby was dreaming.

And seeing as all he had was spinning snapshots of Hank’s spare room he’d been dragged into, the room his mind had pulled up probably wasn’t that one. No, it was probably his room at the mansion, or Scott’s place, or a strange combination of all three. Brains weren’t known for making sense.

He kept one hand on the wall and walked around the edge of the room. He hit something, heavy enough to stop him dead, but he felt no pain. He carried on in a more careful shuffle. Finally, his fingers found a switch.

Thankful, he turned it on. The light didn’t even blind him as it lit everything up in dazzling detail. He peered around the room with a frown. He didn’t recognise it. Too shabby to be the mansion, too nice to be Scott’s.

He looked down at his hands again.

The sound that came out of his mouth was dangerously close to a whine, pulled out of him as he stared. The good news was, his hands were still there. The bad news was, they were somehow transparent. He lifted it up to the light, nothing even being blocked. It wasn’t like when he covered himself in ice, his body was still inside that, heavy and real even if hidden. This was like he’d been transformed into it. He stretched out his fingers, half expecting them to creak, even though he knew they wouldn’t, before tightening them into a fist.

He spotted a full-length mirror on the wall next to the desk he’d crashed into and hurried over to it. He wasn’t one to analyse his dreams, that was more Kitty’s style, claiming they totally meant things. Normally, Bobby would think it was a load of bull, that sometimes brains just shoved things to the front. But this felt like it was trying to tell him something.

He just had no idea what.

He knew it wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop his eyes widening at the reflection staring back at him. It wasn’t that it felt wrong that scared him. No, it felt right. Like this was the way he should be. He leaned forward, getting closer. He wasn’t a ghost, this wasn’t his brain saying he should be dead. No, he was ice. He could see it, right down to the individual hairs on his head. He laughed when he saw his clothes had been transformed with him, surviving the process instead of shattering apart. Not that they covered anything now, and Bobby wondered what was the point of wearing pants if they were now see-through.

This was impossible.

It’s a dream, he reminded himself. He couldn’t actually do this. He could just cover himself in ice, not transform. Still, he liked the thought.

He went to flex, wondering if his muscles could still grow under his skin. Wondered if he could make them bigger. If he could change his appearance, become anyone he wanted to be in ice.

Only… what was that?

He stepped closer to the mirror with a frown, peering closer to his chest. He could see the faint outlines of his muscles and organs below his new skin. It was kind of freaky to be able to see his frozen lungs, intestines, stomach. He could see organs inside of him that he couldn’t even name.

The flash caught his eye again and he focused on it.

There was something in his heart.

No. Not something.

It was a bullet.

He jumped backwards and the panic stopped being distant. It didn’t matter that his body wasn’t pumping blood and adrenaline and horror around, that his blood was frozen in place, that his brain couldn’t fire neurons. No, because his consciousness, still somewhere inside of his body, was panicking, overwriting all that.

He could remember being shot. The pain of it burning its way through him, the metal as hot as the sun, destroying everything in its path. His skin thickened like it was trying to protect him from the thought, blocking the sight of his organs.

It couldn’t hide the bullet.

Shining at him. Mocking him.

It didn’t make sense.

That didn’t happen. He wouldn’t have survived if that happened.

He let out a yell.

He was falling.

He was dead.

He had to be.

The door burst open and Bobby spun around, his hands flying up, all instinct. Hank leapt though, ready to attack in his pyjamas, Reyes of all people as his backup.

And Bobby suddenly realised this wasn’t a dream at all.

Hank stared at him, his breathing dying down and his muscles relaxing when he realised it was only Bobby. His eyes were wide, curious. Bobby opened and closed his mouth for a second, a fish out of water.

How could explain any of this? He didn’t know what was going on. This couldn’t even be real.

Only it was.

“I think I’ve got a bullet in my heart,” he said.

“I’ve got a bullet in my heart,” Bobby repeated. He wasn’t sure how many times he had said it but seeing as taking a deep breath would currently do shit all for his body seeing as he didn’t currently need oxygen, the mantra would have to do to calm him down.

“Yes, Bobby, we’ve already ascertained that,” Hank replied, his voice soft and careful and trying to stop him from bugging out. He was taking the whole thing a lot better than Bobby was. Probably because it wasn’t his heart that somehow had a bullet in it. He was crouching in front of the bed Bobby was sitting on, his hands on his knees.

He hadn’t even made a comment on how fascinating he was finding the whole thing, even though there wasn’t a chance he wasn’t thinking it. It didn’t take a genius to work out that Bobby hadn’t flash-frozen himself into some strange cryogenic state. Nope, he must have turned himself into ice and gone into shock until he defrosted on a Californian beach.

It was somehow pathetic and amazingly cool at the same time.

Bobby looked back down to his chest and another wave of panic washed over him. It was probably lucky everything was still slightly muted. He wouldn’t be able to function if he wasn’t because, and he could not stress this enough, he had a bullet in his heart.

“I can’t unfreeze, I’ll die.”

He must really be in a state because Hank didn’t even shoot him that look that said he thought Bobby was an idiot before replying. “You have been fine for the last two days.”

“How’s this possible?” Because Bobby didn’t understand. He couldn’t do this. The Prof said he slowed down water molecules, not changed other molecules into water molecules and then slowed them down. That was too many steps for him – he couldn’t even follow board game rules because of how many instructions there were. He couldn’t do this. Maybe another mutant could – a better one – but not him.

Hank patter his knee, trying to keep him grounded. “Have you felt your heart beating at any point in the last two days?”

He was using his doctor voice but Bobby wasn’t going to hold it against him. He thought back, sure the answer would be yes – it had to be yes – and instead all he got was another wave of panic. He hadn’t. In fact, now he thought about it, he was pretty sure that was what he had been missing for the last couple of days. But that still didn’t make any sense. “If I was shot, I would be dead. Nobody could survive this.”

Except, it kind of looked like, he had. His hands tightened into fists, clutching the blanket. Ice spread out from them, freezing them solid. He didn’t even try to bring it under his control, letting it spiral out. He should be dead.

Hank shrugged. Not dismissive, but rather he didn’t have an answer yet but his curiosity wasn’t going to be sated until he did. “We’ll work it out,” he promised.

And Bobby believed him. If anyone could, it would be Hank. Just, it might be a little while, and Hank couldn’t spend every second of the day working it out because he probably had boring things to do like work. “What am I supposed to do until then?”

“Nothing,” Cecilia Reyes said as she walked back into the room. In Bobby’s panic, he hadn’t even started to absorb the fact Hank and her were dating. Which was great, but also completely insane. He never thought he’d live to see the day they finally stopped dancing around each other and thinking about the consequences and just admitted they liked each other.

Only, he kind of didn’t live to see it, did he?

She was still in her nightie, but her dreads were now uncovered and tied back into a ponytail. In her small hands, she was carrying a power drill. “I’m going to do all the hard work.”

Bobby eyed her. He didn’t like the way this was going. “What do you mean?”

She lifted up the drill and pressed down on the trigger. It screamed into life for a second, filling the apartment with the sound of the motor. She smiled. “I’m going to get that bullet out of you.”

Bobby scrambled to the other side of the bed, his hands lifting up. “That’ll kill me. You’re trying to kill me.”

Cecilia rolled her eyes. “You’ve been walking around with a bullet in your heart for the last two days – if that hasn’t killed you, I don’t think my drill stands a chance.”

Bobby shook his head. “That’s insane.” Then, he blinked. Well, not really. It didn’t seem to do anything, seeing as his eyelids were clear and he probably wasn’t seeing out of his eyes anyway because every other organ in his body wasn’t functioning and if he thought about it for too long he would begin to panic about the details of how he was thinking. Which he didn’t want to do. Instead, he blurted out. “Wait, why did you bring your own power drill to Hank’s?”

She blinked back at him, face flicking to a look Bobby was very familiar with. The one a genius got when they realised they were talking to an idiot. “It’s a turn of phrase. It’s Hank’s drill.”

“Oh, yeah,” Bobby nodded, sheepishly. “That makes sense.”

She raised an eyebrow and he could see her holding back a sigh. They hadn’t spent a lot of time together before – she wasn’t aware of how naturally frustrating he was yet. “The other choice is you keep walking around with it in there. And that will kill you, at any second.”

Bobby pouted. “That doesn’t sound very good either.”

Cecilia stepped forward, drill pointed upwards. Bobby yelped again, but with his back already pressed against the headboard, he couldn’t escape any further.

“Hey! I haven’t agreed to anything yet. Hank, a bit of help?”

“I’m the doctor,” Cecilia muttered. Bobby knew that – he wasn’t looking down on her or anything – but Hank was his best friend. He trusted him with his life.

“Clearly, you can heal yourself or you wouldn’t have survived the bullet the first time,” Hank noted, his voice steady and sure. Bobby couldn’t help but believe him. “You may be far more powerful than we could have suspected. Transforming other molecules into ice – that’s incredible.”

“That’s great,” Bobby said. “Do you think I have to get it out?”

Hank sighed. “I’m sorry, Bobby. Cecilia is right. If your heart does turn back to flesh, it will kill you.”

“So, and just seeing if I got this right, our solution is for your psycho girlfriend to drill a hole in me?”

“She’s not a psycho,” Hank said, always the knight in shining armour. “And I cannot think of another way to remove it.”

“But… I don’t actually know how to do any of this,” Bobby admitted. This was all new and more than a little bit scary. What if they took it out of him and he couldn’t heal himself again? What if he could even stop being ice? What if this was his new form, like Hank being blue? He couldn’t live like this. He didn’t want to live like this. What if he melted in sunlight?

Cecilia smiled, for the first time showing her bedside manner. “If there’s one thing I know about mutant powers, it’s mostly instinct.”

Bobby tried to remember what it was she did, but he couldn’t think of it. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he’d ever been told, and he certainly hadn’t seen it. Cecilia didn’t like using it, whatever it was. She was also right – Bobby had never needed to think. He could always just do. And Hank was right when he said he had no other choice. He went to take a deep breath before remembering that it was pointless. Instead, he nodded his head. “Okay.”

“As in, Cecilia can proceed?” Hank asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Yeah. Just don’t sound so excited about it. No wonder you two are dating – you psychos are made for each other.”

“Actually, we’re dating because of you,” Cecilia said as she stepped forward. Bobby was pretty sure she was trying to distract him but he didn’t mind. He really wanted to be distracted.

“How? I was dead,” Bobby said, trying his best not to look at the drill.

“Move forward and lie down,” she said, “and then, I’ll tell you.”

Bobby repeated his mantra in his head one last time before slowly shuffling forward. He ignored every single one of his instincts telling him to run away. It was better not to think about it at all. He felt his ice get thicker as she put her hand on his chest, eyes narrowing behind her glasses at the bullet.

“We got together because you were dead,” she said like any of this was normal. “Hank was a complete mess. Somebody had to look after him.”

“Aw, so you do care?” Bobby asked Hank, angling his head up to catch a glimpse of him. They all ignored the fact he couldn’t bring himself to smile, his joking tone falling flat.

“I would hardly say mess,” he corrected smoothly, all tense. “More slightly annoyed you had left at such an impertinent time.”

Cecilia shook her head. “It took me by surprise. Never thought I’d fall for a white boy. Is it alright if I straddle you?”

There should be another joke there, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. Instead, he focused on thickening his pants before nodding. She got onto the bed, sitting on his stomach to hold him down. Luckily, Bobby could barely feel her, nothing more than a vague impression of a presence on top of him. He didn’t like this form, didn’t like how empty he felt, how separated he was from the world.

“Hank’s blue,” he said instead, weakly.

Cecilia snorted. “No, he’s definitely white.” She lined up the drill, thankfully not triggering it. She smiled softly down at him. “Ready?”

“Will – will it hurt?” It sounded pathetic, even to Bobby’s own ears. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. Someone was about to drill into his heart.

“Hank, grab his shoulders.”

Bobby gulped, slightly amazed he could still do that in this form, as Hank pinned him tightly down onto the bed. At least this way he couldn’t do something stupid like jerk and make Cecilia miss. Part of him wished they were at a hospital, even though he had the two most experienced people in the world on mutant anatomy with him already. It would just make it feel like they would be more prepared if it was all about to go wrong.

Then again, if it all went wrong, there was nothing anyone could do.

Bobby would have a quarter of an inch hole in his chest.

And he really would be dead.

“Do you feel his claws?” Cecilia asked. She didn’t sound scared. She sounded professional.

Bobby shook his head.

“Good. Then, you won’t feel this.” She smiled one of those trust me, I’m a doctor smiles. And Bobby did. He had no other choice. “It’ll be fine. But if you do feel anything, tell me straight away, and I’ll stop.”

“Okay,” Bobby said. He tried to squeeze his eyes shut before remembering in this form, it wasn’t possible. Stupid transparent eyelids. “Wait. Hank, can you lean over my face a little more? I don’t want to see this happening.”

If this was going to kill him, the last image he would have was Hank’s blue, furry chest hovering above him. If that wasn’t going to keep him alive, he didn’t stand a chance, because he didn’t want that to be the last thing he saw.

The buzzing of the drill started again and he tensed, his ice getting thicker. Great. That was the last thing he needed right now.

But the drill was nothing more than a feather touch on his chest. Cecilia was right again. There was no pain. And with not being able to see it, and his emotions still slightly disconnected from his body, it was hard to raise any sort of decent panic about it at all.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute before the sound cut off and the drill bounced down on the bed beside him. It took a minute more for Cecilia to announce she was done, moving off his stomach. As Hank moved away, Bobby caught a glint of metal in her fingers. Not able to look at it, he turned his head away, pulling himself back into sitting.

“You should make it into a necklace,” he said, roughly.

“It’s yours,” Cecilia said, holding it out for him.

Bobby looked away. “That’s a solid pass from me.”

“I’ll take it then,” Hank said, plucking it out of her fingers without hesitation and dropping it into his top pyjama pocket. Instantly, Bobby regretted not taking it. He didn’t even want to think about what Hank might do with it.

He looked down at his chest. If his stomach could still roll, it would have. There was a neat hole through him. He swallowed. “Do you think I need to heal it before I turn back into flesh?”

“It would seem wise.” Hank went to push his glasses up before realising he didn’t have them on. Bobby didn’t even think he needed them anymore since he turned blue, but he still wore them for some reason.

Healing himself felt like the kind of thing you closed your eyes for, but Bobby couldn’t. Instead, he let them lose focus as he concentrated, stuffing the hole with water in the air, carefully slowing them down into ice shaped muscles and organs. Heart, lung ribcage, pec, skin. He hoped that was all.

Cecilia frowned at his work when he was done. “That’s not great.”

“I’m not the doctor,” Bobby grumbled. He would have preferred if she hadn’t said that. “I’m not going to get better than that.”

He’d thought he’d done a good job. He wished he didn’t have two sets of eyes watching his every move. He really hoped it was going to work.

He might be a dead man walking but he didn’t want to be a dead man being, well, dead. This new world sucked, but no way did he want to leave it again.

“Now or never,” he said, flashing them a smile. He thought real hard about becoming flesh again.

Then, he felt it, a buzzing across his skin. A warmth, but nice, spreading from his fingers and toes towards his core. It was how he imagined sinking into a warm bath felt like to a normal person.

In his chest, his heart gave its first pump in two years.

Chapter Text

Bobby slept surprisingly well seeing as his, y’know, chest had been drilled into.

He had thought he would be up all night, but the moment his head hit the pillow again, he was out like a light. Clearly, his body needed time to rest and recover now it didn’t have to spend every second making sure his heart was still frozen so he wouldn’t do something stupid like die.

He wasn’t surprised, however, that both Hank and Cecilia had finished breakfast by the time he managed to pull himself out of bed. They were both what Bobby called in his head ‘real adults’ and had real jobs that meant they normally had to get up at the ass crack of dawn. But it was still a lazy Sunday. Cecilia was tucked into Hank’s side on the couch as they read their separate newspapers.

At least one good thing had come out of his not-death. The whole world might be completely and utterly fucked, but Hank and Cecilia worked together, as proved by what happened last night. Before, their dancing around each other had been almost painful. It couldn’t be easy for the two of them to be dating but Bobby was proof it didn’t matter when it came to love.

Only, not anymore.

The anger stabbed through his body, helped along by the pumping of his now beating heart. He scowled, storming in, the scene in front of him no longer sweet. Scott and him used to do that. It felt like they were rubbing it in his face. He was suddenly aware of how muted his emotions had been the last couple of days, that if everything wasn’t so insane and stressful he probably wouldn’t have felt a thing.

They didn’t jump apart as he hoped they would when he made his presence known.

“How are you feeling today?” Cecilia asked instead, voice half-doctor, half-friend. That was never a category he thought he would fit her in. She turned to face him, putting her paper down on the coffee table, her eyes giving him a once over. Just in case that hole she drilled into his chest last night might suddenly split back open and he’d ruin the carpet.

“Hungry,” Bobby grunted.

Hank laughed. If he could hear everything Bobby was failing to hide in his voice, he was ignoring it. “That sounds like the Bobby we know and love. There’s cereal in the cupboard.”

He didn’t mention which one so, natch, it was in the last one Bobby opened. And the only cereal Hank owned was some hippie healthy one. He would need to go back to the mansion if he wanted his sugar hit. Kitty and him had bonded over super sweet breakfast food back when she was still young. He wondered if they still had that in common.

He didn’t want to go back there, not yet. He didn’t know when Proudstar would be bringing the younger team back and if Kitty ageing had bugged him out, he hated to think about what a whole mob of teenagers looking like adults would do to him.

He at least managed to find a bowl during his search, and he tipped the cereal in high. He doused it with milk and sugar on top in the hope it would become edible. Grabbing a spoon from the drying rack, he jumped up on the worktop.

He shoved a large spoonful in his mouth, wincing as he crunched down. It was as gross as he expected, like wet cardboard. From the corner of his eye, he watched Hank approach him carefully, like he was a stray cat ready to scratch him.

“Bobby,” Hank began, voice grave, as he stood awkwardly beside him. “How are you?”

“Still hungry.”

“I mean, about what happened last night. It is truly fascinating. Cecilia and I have already discussed the possibilities of this power jump. I already have a few theories I would love to test. For instance, had you had any indication that-”

“Hank,” Cecilia warned with a smile in her voice. The kind of sound Scott used to make when he cut off Bobby’s blabbing. Bobby’s frown deepened and he crunched down on his next mouthful loudly.

“Sorry,” Hank said, pushing his glasses slightly higher on his nose. “What I’m trying to say is, I suspect it was all a lot to take in.”

Bobby had made a point of not thinking about it all yet. He wasn’t sure he was ready to understand the details. Because, to him, it sort of seemed like he might be invincible. And, seeing as he was pretty vincible before, it was probably going to freak him out. Maybe make him do something stupid to test it. Though getting shot in the heart was hard to top on the whole idiot front.

But it was more than that. When he woke up at five, he was sober, and he really shouldn’t have been. Even now, he wasn’t hungover, like he’d purged all the alcohol from his blood when he turned to ice. But it wasn’t just that he felt fine. He felt better than fine. Like, if he wanted to, he could just get up right now and run a marathon. Like when he woke up on the beach. He was in peak condition. No, better than peak condition.

And, if he squinted down at his skin, all the scars he’d collected over the years of fighting injustice had been wiped from his body. Born again, literally. Hank’s hypothesis would probably tell him what it all meant, but Bobby could already tell it was going to be life-changing. Maybe more than the last two days had been. And he couldn’t face that yet.

He couldn’t face a lot of things. Maybe becoming invincible had turned him weak. Or maybe he’d always been like this and now he was forced to face it.

“I’ll set up a new training regime later,” Bobby shrugged instead of saying any of that. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to get it out.

“Oh, so you’re planning on going back to the X-Men?” Hank sounded almost surprised at that.

“What else can I do?”

“Maybe you should take a vacation. Give yourself time to process it all.”

Bobby shoved another spoonful of mushy cereal in his mouth. He wondered if he could choke to death or if a power drill would be able to sort that out for him too. He wondered if the X-Men even needed him back. What role did he even fill on the team that they hadn’t already replaced? Kurt was a better joker than him, and it wasn’t like making ice was the best skill set to have in a fight.

If he wanted to be real about it all, he hadn’t been needed on that team for a while. Maybe since the original team had split up. He’d been hanging around on sympathy points. And now he was back to do it again because it was what he liked doing, even if he sucked at it enough to get shot and ended up going MIA for two years. What else did he have? Becoming an accountant like his father? As if. “Right.”

Hank didn’t look convinced. That was the problem with him, he just knew him too well. Knew all his tricks like being gross and talking with his mouth full and being rude so nobody would want to talk to him for long and leave him to be miserable on his own. He shook his head. “You should have come to me first.”

Bobby paused mid-chew. Just for a second, until his jaw remembered how to work again. He swallowed the cardboard mush down thickly. “I know the mansion’s number off by heart. It was like muscle memory.”

“Before you visited Scott,” Hank corrected.

Bobby’s eyes flicked to Cecilia. A warning.

“Oh, I know,” she said, but she couldn’t. She didn’t look disgusted.

“How?” Bobby asked, glaring at Hank accusingly. In his chest, his heart rate spiked. It was distracting, obvious, and he didn’t know how he had managed to miss the fact it had been gone.

Hank held up his hands. “Rest assured, I said nothing.”

“I met Maddie,” Cecilia shrugged. “She mentioned Scott’s ex, Bobby. Even if she didn’t know, I do have a doctorate. I’m smart enough to put one and one together.”

“Huh,” Bobby said. Stupid smart people. Though if Maddie had been running her mouth, did that mean everyone knew? No, they couldn’t. Surely, then, the X-Men would have found out, and then he wouldn’t be on the team anymore. “And… you don’t care?”

He was pretty sure his heart stopped beating all over again as he forced the question out in a quick breath. He hoped it wasn’t frozen again, that he had more control than that.

“I’m dating Hank.”

“Hey!” Hank complained by his doe eyes ruined the effect. He had it bad.

Bobby wondered if it was a heartbreak thing, getting annoyed at other people in love, or if it was a him problem, that he was just an asshole.

“And you didn’t warn her?” he asked, half-curious, half-annoyed. Why did everyone just let it happen? Why did they think all this was okay. He would have. Only, if he was there, this whole thing wouldn’t have happened. Life – and death – was a bitch.

Cecilia’s face turned apologetic. “I thought about it. But Scott seemed to really love her.”

Bobby scowled. That wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Maybe Clyde was right. Maybe Scott was actually bisexual and their whole relationship had been doomed to fail before it even started. Maybe it was a blessing he went missing. At least that way he didn’t have to see it fall apart in front of his eyes. “Great.”

“Bobby-” Hank began, carefully.

“Y’know,” Bobby said, cutting him off before he could get all emotional. “I don’t actually want to hear this over my shit breakfast. Let’s talk about something else.”

Hank didn’t listen. Of course, he didn’t. “Like me with Vera, you will heal from this.” His eyes flicked to Cecilia, a small smile on his lips. “There may be somebody better waiting.”

Bobby wrinkled up his nose, but he wasn’t going to waste such a perfect opportunity. If Hank wasn’t going to change the topic, he would. “Gross. So, do you two go on actual dates together, or do you just hide in Hank’s apartment and do the borderline bestiality nasty?”

He knew that was too far before hearing Hank’s pained gasp.

“He’s still human,” Cecilia said, voice outraged.

Bobby placed the bowl next to him, closing his eyes for a second and taking a deep breath before turning to look at his friend. “I didn’t mean that.”

It didn’t stop the hurt in Hank’s eyes. Probably wasn’t the first time he thought it, maybe not the first time it had been said to him. After all, Hank was smooth, and yet he’d never actually managed to find a woman after Vera until now.

Bobby didn’t know how to fix that. Pretty sure it was better to just skip over it and pretend it didn’t happen. “So, do you go on dates, then?”

“Is a love that blooms in secret still not a beautiful flower?” Hank asked, trying to skip over it as well. He knew as well as Bobby did how good he was at putting his foot in his mouth. All he did, really.

“So, that’s a no?” He was still doing it. Being an asshole. But the Cecilia Bobby knew didn’t like to draw attention to herself. Being a mutant would only risk everything she had already gained for herself, and she wasn’t hurting anyone else by hiding it. But dating Hank was a big neon sign. Even if nobody suspected she was a mutant, there were a lot of words people could use for a woman who dated someone who looked like Hank. Bobby had just accused her of it. But as long as he was being an asshole about this, they weren’t going to talk about Scott.

“You can talk,” Cecilia asked, and maybe he was wrong about that.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” she asked, eyebrow raised in challenge. He shouldn’t have brought Hank into it all. Now she would refuse to back down, her eyes burning into him. It reminded Bobby of Jean, all those years ago, when she dragged him to the bank.

He sighed, his eyes flicking away in defeat. “Just because you can do something doesn’t mean everyone’s got the message.”

Cecilia blinked. People often did that when they realised he did have some wisdom hidden in him. “Pretty much.”

It was a strange feeling to realise he could understand them on another level. Only that was all moving forward. What he was, that was never going to be accepted. If they wanted to go public, there was no law in New York saying Hank and Cecilia couldn’t get married because they were both mutants, because they were different races. People might not like it, socially it was suicide, maybe worse than that, but they could still do it.

Bobby could never marry anyone ever.

He didn’t want to think about that. He wondered if Hank would feel the same, if Cecilia left him for someone who looked normal, who looked like her. It was too much. “Would you have told me? About Maddie?”

“Anyone would have, if they knew.”

“Don’t remind me I could have avoided this whole thing,” Bobby scowled, dropping his spoon. Great, now Hank was making out like it was all his fault. The new X-Men team hadn’t given him any kind of indication that he could trust them with something this big. Maybe Hank was still pissed about his previous comment – he deserved to be, but he was too good for that. Always had to be the bigger man. Maybe he had to be, looking the way he did. None of this was making him feel better. He just wanted to feel better. “Five months, Hank. You waited longer after Vera left you.”

“You weren’t there,” Hank said, and he was being careful. It made Bobby madder. He didn’t need to be handled with kid gloves. He was living it.

“Am I really that unimportant?”

“No. Don’t you dare think that. He grieved for you, Bobby. You weren’t the only friend I lost that day. He retreated, became obsessed with the MERA, barely said anything that wasn’t about that. If Maddie hadn’t come along, I don’t think he would have come back.”

“Great,” Bobby snorted. “Now you’re defending him too?”

Hank was his best friend. He was meant to support him.

“I’m just telling you the truth.”

“No. You’re telling me how you rationalised it all in your head. If you were a good friend, this whole thing would make you sick.”

“You were dead, Bobby.”

He jumped off the counter, unable to stay sitting any longer. “Stop saying that. Everyone keeps telling me that like I don’t know. I know that better than the rest of you. I was there. And I’m the one who has been thrown into this new world where everyone has moved on like they should. But that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be pissed about it all.”

Hank lifted his hands up in a calming gesture. He was trying to look understanding, like this was something anyone else could ever possibly understand. “Nobody’s saying you can’t be angry.”

Only he was. Everyone was. They were all acting like he should just accept everything. Because he was dead. Because he should have stayed dead. Nobody wanted him back. He was just ruining everything for them.

Bobby shook his head, stepping away from him. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Bobby-”

“I’m going back to the mansion.”

He didn’t actually want to be there, either. But he had nowhere else he could go. Before, if he was feeling like this, his insides buzzing with anger and confusion and the need to lash out, he would have gone to Scott’s. He knew how to make him feel better. Scott just existing made him feel better. And then he went and replaced him with normality.

He turned on his heel and stormed his way to the front door. Behind him, Hank was saying something but Bobby didn’t want to listen to him. It would just be more excuses.

And Bobby was fed up with those.

Chapter Text

It was almost like nothing had happened, the train back to Purdy’s the same as it always was.

Almost. Because it couldn’t be, not really.

Everything had changed. He had changed.

Bobby’s skin felt too tight, too constricting. An energy buzzed under it as everything that had happened since he woke up on that beach bounced around in his head. He couldn’t sit still, instead pacing up and down the carriage. Luckily, it was mostly empty, but the few people on it kept a weary eye on him. Crazy wasn’t an unknown on New York train lines. Nobody was going to move.

And maybe he was crazy. Maybe this was all a manic firing of his brain as the bullet ripped through his body and began to shut down. Because he couldn’t have really survived that. The Professor and Hank had been so confident about the extent of Bobby’s powers. They couldn’t have been wrong, not by this much.

It didn’t feel like he was dying though. It all felt real.

He shouldn’t have taken the train. It was obvious now, the space was too small, like the coffin he should be in. He needed space, the wind on his face and an ice slide under him. Two days ago (two years ago), Bobby wouldn’t have the stamina to make the sixty mile journey from New York to the mansion in one go. His energy would drain too quickly, his ice running out somewhere over White Plains. But now it felt like he could loop the world in one go, that he no longer had a limit.

How could he have one?

If he was solid ice, he didn’t need to breathe or eat or do anything like that. His limits were no longer human.

He laughed, suddenly, the surprise forcing its way out of his throat that sounded just insane enough to send his fellow passengers shuffling slightly away. He wondered if he could survive in space. The sort of thing he could ask Hank, but he still felt guilty at what he said, and still felt pissed at what Hank said, and it was all too much of a confusing mess. Maybe he should join NASA instead, that would be easier. He’d been in space before, but being a real astronaut would still be awesome.

He wondered how Hank did it. How he still acted human when he so obviously wasn’t anymore.

The train pulled into a station and Bobby impulsively got off. It wasn’t his stop, but it didn’t matter. He gulped in the smell of diesel in the air and eyed up the platform. Nobody stuck around in stations, already hurrying off to finish their day, just him and a member of staff sending the train on its way. He didn’t seem very bothered by him standing there. If Bobby was a jumper, there was more than enough time before the next train.

Bobby thought that would have to kill him. Even if he iced up, he would only end up smashed into a million pieces instead of being left as a bloody smear on the tracks. There would be nobody left either way. Just like falling into the Pacific. He wondered how quickly everyone would give up on finding him this time.

He made a note to stay away from train tracks, or anything that could smash into him at speed.

He took a couple of steps backwards before launching himself into a run. He felt like a maniac, barrelling down the platform as fast as he could. The member of staff yelled at him as he passed, something lost to the wind howling in his ears. Bobby didn’t care enough to listen. All his thoughts were engaged in thinking about cold things.

He’d never purposefully turned himself into ice before.

He jumped, flinging his hand in front of him, and before his feet touched down on the slide forming below him, he felt it.

First, his heart stopped beating, the mad tattoo in his chest halting like an emergency break had been pulled. A tingle spiralled out from it, reaching out from the centre of his being. His lungs froze solid, air no longer needed, quickly followed by the rest of his torso organs. Then, his blood stopped as his limbs transformed, turning transparent in front of his eyes. Only not his eyes for long, and he still didn’t understand how he could see. Last, his brain, but his mind was still working. Maybe his nan was right, maybe he was proof souls existed, separated from the body. It was the only way any of this made sense.

He whooped as loud as he could, doing a loop in the air, careful not to be directly above the tracks. Below him, the worker was still yelling up at him, and Bobby wondered if he would shatter if he fell from this height. Instead of giving that too much thought, he gave him a cheeky wave, going even higher into the sky.

“I’m back!” he yelled to nobody in particular, a delight in his voice he wasn’t sure he would ever manage to have again. It was easier to feel good like this.

He did another loop in the air before setting his sights towards the mansion. As long as he kept the train tracks to the left of him, he would be fine. The ground sped under him, and he was pretty sure he’d never managed to travel this fast before. He might even beat Warren now. He couldn’t feel the air battering against his face. Catching up with the train was easy.

As he was over Purdy’s, he took a hard right. As he spotted the river, he went low, skimming over the top, producing a wave behind him that froze into ice. Then, he was up again, soaring across the countryside.

It felt too soon when he landed on the mansion’s lawn. But he’d been right, he wasn’t tired. It felt like that was the warm-up. He felt the tingling again, the opposite was from before. Milliseconds between it starting at his fingers and toes and it ending with a harsh thump in his chest restarting his heart and causing him to drag in a desperate gasp of air.

He’d planned on going to sulk in his bedroom. He thought he had earned it after all he’d been through. Only, being flesh and blood had its disadvantages. He’d never realised how bodily emotions were until he’d only experienced them in his mind. And, as he walked past Logan doing some kind of stretching exercise over the frosty lawn, a wave of anger crashed over him.

His feet changed direction without his brain even getting involved, and in three large steps, he was in front of him. Logan knew he was there – the guy had heightened senses, freakishly seeming to know where everyone was at all times – but he didn’t open his eyes. Bobby didn’t know if it was the smug dismissal which was the final straw, or if the part of his brain that was currently in control always knew what the plan was. Either way, he punched him in the face.

Normally, punching Logan was a recipe for broken knuckles. His stupid metal skeleton had no give. But some part of Bobby’s brain must have done a PhD in applied mathematics while he was dead because while Bobby had always been good at numbers, he certainly couldn’t work out how thick the hand he’d just turned to ice had to be to not shatter at the force he smashed in into that asshole’s face.

And it was a lot of force. Logan stumbled slightly, which was rare due to that stupid metal skeleton of his also being ridiculously heavy.

There was no hesitation. Logan didn’t even look surprised that his recently resurrected team member was going crazy. He just crouched into a defensive pose as his claw slid out of his knuckles. This close, Bobby could see the blood well up where they came out of his skin, dripping down onto the floor. Bobby wondered if a bullet to the heart could kill Logan. He wondered if anyone had ever tried.

“You might want to think through your next move real carefully, bub,” Logan growled.

Bobby wanted to laugh. Cecilia had drilled through his heart this morning. He doubted those toothpicks would be the thing to take him out. But testing how invincible he now was wasn’t the reason he was here.

“You should have told me.”

Logan blinked at him, somehow more surprised at that than at the punch. This man was psychotic. Bobby had always known that, even if the others had ignored it, but this was the final proof. “Told you what?”

“That Scott had got married.”

Because Logan had known they were dating. And seeing as he was friends with Kurt, he must have known about Scott. So Logan had sent him in unprepared. No careful words, no hint of warning, just letting him walk into that shit show thinking things might be alright.

Logan re-sheathed his claws, but his face was still pissed. His jaw was still red, his healing factor not instantaneous. Not like Bobby’s. Well, as long as he could flick between forms at least. “And when should I have done that? Over breakfast? I’m sure you wouldn’t have punched me if I announced your dirty little secret to the team then.”

Bobby scowled. Okay, he didn’t have a bit of a point there. But only a bit. “You had plenty of time after.”

“Next thing I knew, you were gone with Kurt,” he shrugged. He already looked slightly bored with the conversion. Bobby could hear the quiet bit. Logan didn’t care.

Bobby had never liked him that much. Partly because of that creepy thing with Jean, and partly because he always went out of his way to be an asshole to him. And maybe Bobby had started it, taking a while to warm up completely to the new team, but Logan was the one who refused to end it. Bobby got on with the rest of the team fine now.

“You should have tried.”

Logan snorted. “It’s not my fault your boyfriend moved on, kid.”

He was probably being kind. He was using the tone he usually reserved solely for Kitty. But Bobby was pissed. Not really at Logan, if he was going to be honest with himself, nor Hank.

He was pissed at Scott. A burning hot furnace in his stomach that no matter how cold he got, he couldn’t put out. He’d replaced him, after all his promises. Only, it was worse than that. He’d replaced him with someone Bobby could never compete against. He never stood a fucking chance against normal. Against a family, and being able to love in public, and not being someone who could ruin everything Scott had worked for just by existing.

Bobby hated Scott because he could choose.

Because either he was actually bisexual, and he had a choice in it all, and he was never going to pick the only life Bobby could give him. Or he was gay, and he was stronger than Bobby.

Logan nodded as Bobby stared at him. Clearly, he thought they were done, his arms lifting up to carry on stretching, his eyes slipping closed. He was right, of course. Logan had nothing to do with this mess. In fact, he’d always done Bobby a favour by not spilling his secret.

Instead of that thought bringing gratefulness, it stoked the fire. He didn’t want to be thankful he had to live a lie. He didn’t want his place on the team to be reliant on this man Bobby didn’t even like. Or maybe those two facts had always been related. After all, how could he ever like someone who had that power over his life? And he seemed so unbothered about it. It left the floor unsteady under Bobby’s feet, because if Logan thought it meant nothing, then it was easy for him to give it all away.

Logan still had one thing Bobby needed.

His body was buzzing, too much energy trapped inside of him, too many emotions swirling in his gut. Whatever he’d drained off getting here was already back, worse than before.

Now he knew how to, now he’d embraced it, turning into ice was easy. Natural, like it was his real state, how he meant to exist. Like flesh had always actually been his mask. He didn’t think. Instead, he lunged at Logan, sending them both tumbling onto the lawn.

He took Bobby’s weight easily, twisting in the way only a man who had spent his whole life fighting dirty could, so he ended up on top. His claws were out again, pointed at the bottom of Bobby’s throat. Not that it mattered anymore. He was ice. He didn’t cut up so easily.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Logan grunted.

Bobby headbutted him. And that didn’t even hurt anymore. War used to tease him, say there was nothing in his head, well, he was finally right.

Logan fell off him, and Bobby quickly scrambled back onto his feet. Logan growled as he righted himself, eyeing up Bobby like he finally realised Bobby might actually be a threat to him.

“So, what, you possessed or something? Came back wrong?” Logan asked and he’d never been the person to talk in a fight, to stretch it out longer than he needed to. It took Bobby a second to realise it was because he didn’t actually want to hurt him.

Huh, maybe Logan being an asshole was his way of making friends. Maybe, if Bobby could feel properly in this form, he would care that he’d just fucked that up. But all he had was that anger.

“Or maybe I don’t like homophobic assholes.”

Logan laughed. “I’m probably the only one of our teammates who doesn’t care you’re a queer.”

Bobby charged at him. Logan sidestepped him easily, the anger making Bobby sloppy.

“Think about what you’re doing, kid.”

“I’m not a fucking kid,” Bobby growled. He hadn’t been a fucking kid since he was fourteen years old and his neighbours tried to hang him. He was as far from innocent to the whole world around him.

He tried another punch, but Logan was expecting it, catching it and twisting it behind him. But Bobby didn’t have to obey human anatomy anymore. It didn’t ever hurt as he kept twisting around, ice filling the gap that should have been his arm ripping off his body.

Then, he was facing Logan. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could process it, Bobby grinned, put all the power he owned behind his leg, and kneed Logan in the balls.

There was an unwritten rule that nobody could be held completely responsible for whatever happened in the first few seconds after that, when the pain overtakes the mind. Bobby wasn’t even surprised when Logan lifted his hand back up and stabbed his claws through his chest to his knuckles.

Bobby could see the moment the red haze lifted from Logan’s mind, his eyes widening as he stared at his hand. Bobby knew he should be panicked, freaking out, even if it wasn’t hurting him. There should at least be some fear he wasn’t going to be able to heal himself again. It wasn’t like he was used to any of this. It wasn’t like he should ever get used to any of this.

Logan pulled his claws back, the sound of metal against ice echoing over the lawn. Horror was etched onto his face. It felt like all of Bobby’s anger escaped through the holes left behind, like all he needed to get his head on straight was to be stabbed.

He was beginning to think there might be something wrong with him.

“Sorry,” Bobby said, and he wasn’t sure he meant it. “I’ll be fine.” His voice sounded far away, like it wasn’t coming from his body. Only it hadn’t. Because his lungs were frozen stiff, so how could he be pushing air past his voice box and producing sound.

He was a big solid emptiness. He opened his mouth, a vague plan to say something else like he had the words inside of him to make this better when, suddenly, Logan was no longer in front of him.

A green streak through the air and Logan was being pinned to the ground on his left, Rogue on top of him.

A dark shadow covered them from above, a slight goddess-filled echo in Ororo’s voice as she gently lowered herself to the ground. “What is going on here?”

“It’s my fault,” Bobby said, and it may have been the first time he’d admitted fault to anything. Not that Logan appreciated that.

“You heard him, Stripes, get off me,” Logan grunted. He was struggling on the ground. Rogue, it turned out, was strong.

“Ororo?” she asked.

“Allow him up,” she replied. She looked so elegant, even in the clothes she wore to relax. People didn’t dress like she did, not in America, but she didn’t seem to care. She was so sure of herself in the way Bobby ached for.

Rogue let go of Logan, who jumped up, stabbing a finger towards Bobby. “He’s gone psycho.”

Well, if Logan was saying it, it had to be true. Maybe he did lose a couple of screws in the Pacific. It would explain it all.

“I’m sure he’s just… adjusting to being back,” Ororo said, diplomatically. Giving him more wiggle room than the Prof would have. Then again, it wasn’t like she could ground him, take away his TV privileges.

Logan snorted. “Well, he can do that adjusting a long way away from me.” He turned on his heel, stomping back towards the mansion and completely ignoring Ororo telling him to stop. She shook her head, turning back to Bobby, her face twisting into a look of concern. A blend of about and for that he was painfully used to.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Bobby shrugged. About as shitty as every other second since he’d come back from the dead.

“You’ve been stabbed!” The panic in Rogue’s voice was genuine. It irked Bobby – it wasn’t like she knew him. It wasn’t like she cared.

“I’ll be fine.” He couldn’t feel it. If he didn’t look down, he would be able to forget about it.

Ororo’s eyebrows drew together. “Bobby-”

“It’s fine,” he insisted. Neither of them looked convinced. Like he would do something that stupid knowing it might kill him. Well, then he’d just have to show them. It wasn’t like they actually cared.

Finally, he felt a spark of panic. As dumb as what he just did was, he didn’t want to die.

Floating around the Pacific hadn’t been the part that sucked. He didn’t even remember that. The coming back was the hard part. But that wasn’t actually death. He still had no idea what came after. If it was a big fat nothing, or some afterlife, or maybe he’d get reincarnated as a bug or something. That would suck. He definitely didn’t want that to happen.

But he’d survived a bullet to the heart. He was immortal except for illness and old age and trains.

“See,” he said, smugly, as the tingling began. Easy to turn back to flesh. Easy to be whole. Hell, even his t-shirt reformed without stab marks.

Rogue whistled. “Impressive.”

“Indeed,” Ororo agreed but there was disapproval in her voice as she frowned at him. “Bobby, can you come with me?”

Chapter Text

Bobby followed Ororo through the mansion, his feet dragging on the floor. He was surprised when she led him into the Professor’s office, pausing at the threshold for a second before stepping in after her. Though maybe it was hers now. And, by the looks of things, it had been hers for a while.

There was a houseplant on the desk. An alive houseplant. They always used to joke it was lucky the Professor was better at keeping them alive than his attempts to bring some colour into his office. Even when Bobby was MIA, fifty per cent was better than that record.

Ororo took a seat on a chair. Somehow, she managed to make it look like a throne. She wasn’t lounging, but she held a confidence in her ability and place, her head held high and her legs crossed in front of her. She nodded her head towards the chair at Bobby’s side and he quickly took it. Twenty-three (twenty-five) years old and he still felt like a kid in the principal’s office. Pulled out for fighting to be scolded by a woman younger than him.

“I don’t need a talking to. I know I fucked up,” he said. He already knew it wouldn’t be the end of it though, the critical eye she raked over him only confirming it.

“I’m worried about you.” At least she was direct. He couldn’t stand the thought of her beating around the bush, dragging this whole thing out. He wanted this all to be over so he could… what? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

He scowled, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, you can stop. It’s pretty clear I’m not going anywhere.”

“Did you go out of your way to get stabbed?” There was a hint of anger in her voice. Just like Bobby thought – she couldn’t be very worried about him. Couldn’t care that much. Just like the rest of them.

“No,” he muttered, all too aware he was sounding like a child. Ororo raised a sceptical eyebrow and he sighed. “I was just angry.”

“With Logan?” Her eyebrow lifted further.

“Yes. No. It’s complicated.” Only that was a lie. It was all actually real simple. The rest of them were complicated. They probably still killed people for being like him where she came from. Only, they still did that here. Nobody was going to shed a tear.

And now he didn’t even have Scott, an island of understanding in a world that would rather he didn’t exist.

She gave him a hard look, long enough to send a spike of fear through him as her blue eyes tried to pierce down into his very soul. He refused to let himself ice up though. Didn’t want her to think he was hiding something. “How did you know you were going to be okay?”

“Oh, I totally got shot,” Bobby shrugged. Cecilia drilling that bullet out of him had felt so defining he’d forgotten everyone hadn’t got the message about it.

“Pardon?” Ororo asked.

“We found the bullet. Turned out it did happen.”

“You did get shot?” she asked, a look of dawning horror on her face.

“Don’t worry. We removed it. With a power drill. Do you think all doctors are psychos, or just the mutant ones? At least it won’t be charged to the insurance – I’m still not completely convinced it would be classed as necessary.”

Ororo, who Bobby thought was pretty unflappable, looked upset by the news. Bobby could understand the feeling – if he thought about it for too long, his stomach threatened to empty. And he was sure all that hippie cereal he ate earlier would somehow taste worse on the way back up. That was why he was trying to keep it light.

“Well, that’s… good.” She clearly didn’t really think that. “So, you’re-”

“Invincible? Yeah. Pretty groovy, right?” He was getting good at sounding relaxed about that.

“I was going to ask how you felt about that. But you’re not going to tell me.” It was clear that wasn’t a question, but a hard fact.

“I said I was cool with it.” He felt a bit guilty lying to her, and pissed that he was proving her right. Was he really that predictable? But he just couldn’t talk about it with her when he didn’t even understand it all yet.

“Perhaps you would be more willing to talk to Charles.”

“Yeah, well, he’s not here.”

She reached into the desk, pulling out a book. She flicked through it, finding a well-worn page before sliding it across to him. A number was scrawled across the paper. “The modern world has many wonderful communication devices. He had been trying to get in contact with you.”

“He has?” He cursed at how enthusiastic he sounded about that, but it was hardly a secret how much the Professor meant to the original team, even if he had made some choices which still grated on Bobby. He would say like a father figure, but Bobby still hadn’t worked out how to tell his parents he was alive yet, wasn’t sure the best way to build on the web of lies he’d already fed them without it all collapsing. The Professor was easier than them. He knew the real Bobby.

“Yes,” Ororo said, a soft smile on her face. “It’s five hours ahead. Don’t wait too long.”

She stood as if to leave, but stopped when she reached his side of the desk. She squeezed his shoulder, a strength in her grip he drew comfort from. “I will always be willing to talk if you need me,” she promised.

“Sure. I’ll keep that in mind,” Bobby said. Another lie. She probably already knew that though, leaving the office.

Bobby turned his gaze onto the number. He was hesitant, unwilling to reach for it. That was odd. It was the Professor. What could Bobby possibly be nervous about? He pushed it down, reaching towards the phone. By the time he made contact, his fingers had already turned to ice, that half-transparent look he’d already gotten used to. By the time he had the phone cradled between his ear and his shoulder, he wasn’t flesh anymore.

It made things easier.

Ororo had brought him here for privacy. She was good like that, knew the conversation wasn’t something he could have in the hallway as the X-Men walked past. She would probably stop anyone else from picking up the other phone as well. They used to do that when they were young for a laugh.

He pulled the book closer to him, squinting down at the number. It was the Professor’s handwriting, always did the sevens and fours funny, with the zeros having a line through them. He spun the number in, glad he didn’t have any breath to get stuck in his throat as the international number rang through. Once, twice, then:

“Muir Island Research Centre. Moira MacTaggert speaking.” He recognised that Scottish accent. She was human – and Bobby found it funny that it was always the first thing he thought about people, whether they were like him or not – but her child had been a mutant. They had to sort it all out for her when things got messy. She was also an old friend – maybe more – of the Prof’s back in the day. It made sense he would have run off there.

Bobby was rapidly alienating all the people he could run to.

“Hey, Moira,” he said and hitting that careless drawl he spent years perfecting was easy in this form. “The Prof in?”

There was a heavy pause. She already knew he was alive. She was smart enough to be able to tell him if he died when he turned to ice. His heart stopped beating after all, which surely meant he was dead? But then his brain, somehow, kept working, could control his new form even though his muscles couldn’t be working the same. Maybe she was still talking to a dead man. Actually, Bobby didn’t want to know.

“Yes,” she said, the word spoken slightly too fast once she got it out like she could make up for the long stretch of silence before. “I’ll just go get him now.” Another pause. “I was glad to hear you were alive.”

Bobby laughed. “You’re not studying me.”

“A shame,” she replied, not quite a joke. The problem with scientists was they always wanted the same thing. Suddenly, a wave of cold crashed through him. Real cold, not like being frozen. Of being strapped to a table, of dissection, of red eyes. He shook it off, no idea why that was coming back, trying instead to focus on her voice. “The Prof will be along in a jiffy.”

Bobby didn’t know the exact amount of time a jiffy encompassed, but it felt like a long time. He fidgeted, trying to keep his mind busy. He wished the clock on the wall wasn’t so loud. Carefully, he stretched his fingers out, making an ice baseball on the side. Easy. But it always had been, hardly a test of his improved powers. His eyes caught on the houseplant. A mess of purple triangles and pink flowers.

He couldn’t. Ororo would kill him, and he didn’t want the whole X-Men team to have a grudge against him. But, if he could turn himself into ice, surely a houseplant would be easy. And he would be able to turn it back again. What Ororo didn’t know couldn’t hurt her.

It would be stupid though.

“Bobby?” The Professor’s voice came through the phone and he jumped back, fingertips a hair's width away from the closest leaf.

“Present,” Bobby replied like he’d been caught daydreaming in class. Only the Professor’s voice didn’t sound exasperated like it normally did when he said his name. Instead, it sounded, well, like Bobby had just come back from the dead.

The Prof laughed, another sign everything was topsy-turvy. The Prof never laughed at his jokes (not that it had actually been a joke, but a knee-jerk reaction), even when Bobby was sure he found them funny. Something about reputation and being a good role model and all that other boring teacher crap. “I’m pleased to hear your voice.”

He sounded like he meant it and Bobby felt bad. He hadn’t even considered ringing the Professor when he realised he wasn’t here.

“Me too,” he lied, glad he wasn’t in the room to know the truth. (Could the Prof even still read his thoughts in this form? Did his power need a working brain or was whatever his consciousness was doing now enough?)

“I’m sorry I’m not there.”

“It’s fine,” Bobby shrugged, his finger doodling ice lines on the table in front of him. It wasn’t, not really, a vague itch in his mind. He thought it would be easier if the Professor was here. Bobby snorted. Add it to the pile of things that would make it easier. Really, it would just be better if it all never happened.

“Bobby, I mean it.” The Prof didn’t need to read his thoughts to know what he was thinking. He’d been around Bobby since he was fourteen. He’d saved Bobby’s life.

Only…

Only maybe he didn’t. Because Bobby had turned himself into ice in response to being shot. Who was to say he wouldn’t have done the same if they managed to actually lynch him?

But it was just that, the whole saving thing. It was the afterwards. The Prof had made sure Bobby wasn’t alone, that he knew there were others like him. Trained him up and made sure he wouldn’t lose everyone. Just like he should have done this time.

“Then why aren’t you here?” It was childish, and mean. He was meant to be twenty-five, meant to have a handle on things like an adult. At his age, the Prof had been fighting in a war. But Bobby had been doing that since he was fourteen. So why the hell was he still like this?

Maybe it was because the only person who seemed actually happy Bobby was still alive was Hank. Though he’d managed to mess that up as well. It just wasn’t fair. Bobby thought he had friends, people who cared about him. But the X-Men had moved on, and the Prof was in Scotland, and Scott-

He wasn’t going to think about Scott ever again.

“When you died,” the Prof began, his voice thick. It was strange. Bobby hadn’t ever heard that much emotion in his voice before. For the first time, he considered how everyone else had felt when he was gone. Especially so soon after Jean. “It was hard. To lose half of my original team…” He sighed. A long drawn-out thing with the heavy weight of responsibility. “I began to question what I was doing, my methods. I didn’t bring you into the safety of my home to kill you so young.”

The thunderclap of a gun going off, the pain as it ripped through his body, red eyes. But the Professor couldn’t have predicted that. “It wasn’t your fault. Me and Jeanie chose to stay.”

“You would have never been in that position if it wasn’t for me. I should have never – I couldn’t watch the same thing happen again.”

Bobby frowned. That seemed unfair. Recruiting them and then running off when it got a bit hard. The Prof heard his pause, carrying on quickly.

“I needed time and the new team doesn’t need me like yours did.”

“It’s not the same without you here.” And it wasn’t. They were living in his house, using his money, he should be here.

“There’s work Moira and I have to do.”

“Wait,” Bobby said, and if he still had a beating heart, it would have stopped. Instead, he laid his hand flat on the table, frost spreading across the top of the desk. “You’re not coming back?”

“The X-Men are fine in my absence.”

“Right,” Bobby said, stiff. Because the X-Men might be fine, but Bobby wasn’t. He felt like a kid again. It was funny. The Prof wasn’t a father figure, he was a mentor, a teacher, but it still hurt like he was family. Another rejection. Another person who didn’t care he was back. Maybe that was the reason he was putting off going to visit his parents too. At least this way he could pretend some people hadn’t moved on. “Well, I guess I’ll catch you sometime, then.”

“Bobby-” the Professor began but all the excuses everyone kept spouting at him would choke him if he was still human enough to need oxygen.

“I’ve got to go.” Bobby didn’t wait for a response, putting down the phone with a satisfying slam. The conversation bounced around his head like it was echoing. His eyes caught on the houseplant, fixing on the purple leaves.

Carefully, he leaned forward, softly touching the closest one. Soft, delicate, alive. His ice danced across it, transforming it into something solid and half-transparent and as dead as him. Which maybe wasn’t at all, because he could feel it so much more strongly, like the plant had become his, like he’d claimed it.

He let it exist like that for a second, admiring his work. Right down to the delicate, now near invisible petals on the flowers. Then, he touched it again, drawing the ice back into himself. He tried to change it back into the state it had existed in before.

It didn’t work.

The plant had turned to gloop on the table.

Chapter Text

When Bobby got the phone call from Hank during what he assumed was the other man’s lunch break, he’d planned on slamming it back down on the receiver with all the anger bubbling inside him.

But Hank was the only person who seemed glad he was still alive, and the New Mutant team had come back from whatever hell hole Proudstar had dropped them in and they were talking to Kitty about shit like college and it was all freaking him out too much. Plus, he still felt bad for being rude to him.

So, instead, he said he would come up. He ice slid his way to the city, focusing on the soft flurry of snow coming down and how much his upgraded power was going to save him on transport costs than let himself think about anything else. And if anyone didn’t like his chosen form of travel – unlikely since he was rolling into Mutant Town – well, it wasn’t like they could stop him. After all, what could a human do against him now?

He thought this was probably what Magneto felt like with his magnetic force field. Unstoppable and powerful. Bobby was lying if he said he didn’t like it, even with the Professor’s voice bouncing around his head about the corrupting forces that could all so easily take over with gifts like theirs. If the Professor cared enough to get the next flight to New York, Bobby would talk to him about it all. But he wasn’t going to, so Bobby could just bask in the only thing decent that had come from this all.

The Professor would have come back if it was Jean who rose from the dead. He’d always liked her more. Everyone liked her more. Bobby was surprised at the bitterness the thought sent through him. He didn’t want to tarnish Jean’s memory. She’d saved their lives. She deserved a second chance more than he did.

He didn’t bother knocking on Hank’s apartment door, trying to go right in. He frowned when he found it locked. If he’d gone out after inviting him around, Bobby was going to leave this city behind. Before he died, San Francisco was becoming a bit of a mutant hub, had their own version of the MERA. He wondered what the gay scene was like.

His fist slammed against the door harder than necessary, taking that anger that always bubbled under the surface out on the wood. It didn’t work, but Hank opened it immediately, a smile splitting out on his face. Bobby had to grudgingly admit, that tempered the fire inside of him slightly.

“You came!” Hank actually sounded surprised. Then again, Bobby had been pretty short with him on the phone.

“Your door’s locked,” Bobby replied, ducking past him and stomping his way over to the couch. He flopped backwards, putting his feet up on the coffee table just because he knew it would piss his friend off. Things really were bad because while Hank looked at them in disapproval, he didn’t say anything.

“As much as it pains me to speak ill of my neighbours, this is hardly the nice side of town.”

“Scott never locked his door.” Bobby regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. He wasn’t thinking about that asshole anymore. They were done. Only, Bobby was finding it hard to untangle it all in his brain. There hadn’t been an adjustment period. There hadn’t been a slow winding down or a big fight to end it. It just existed one second and then the next, Scott had moved on. Five years wasn’t a long time until he remembered it was a fifth of his life. He needed to process it.

“He does now he has a kid.” If Hank could still turn pale under all that fur, he would have, clearly regretting his words as much as Bobby had. Quickly, he tried to make it better. “Not that – I’m sure-”

“No. I get it. He has something he actually cares about now.” His voice was bitter. He was jealous of a baby. That was just pathetic.

“Scott-”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bobby said, cutting Hank off. If they talked about it, he would get angry and storm off again. Ororo and Logan were mad at him, the rest of the X-Men stepping carefully around him like he might go nuts. He needed to keep one friend or else he wasn’t going to make it through this.

Hank seemed to realise the same, dropping it and taking a seat next to him on the couch. Bobby, for the first time in his life, wished they did things like hug. Ororo had managed to transfer so much of the support he needed in those touches and, while it was super girly, it was what he needed. Plus, he imagined hugging Hank was like hugging an oversized teddy bear.

“So, where’s your girl?” Bobby asked quickly before he did something truly insane, like go into for one, looking around the apartment he already knew was empty.

“She’s got a double. People have jobs, Bobby,” Hank reminded him and that, at least, was said in the usual tone, like nothing had changed.

“So, you finally found somewhere to take you?”

“It’s a waste of my genius, but yes. I found a lab that would take me.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you just rejoin the X-Men?”

“That’s not what I want to do either. This place hired me for now. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before people can look past my beastly exterior.”

A shot of guilt went through him. He shifted slightly, uncomfortable. “I am sorry about what I said yesterday. I do, y’know, feel bad.”

Hank gave him a look, soft and understanding and far too kind for all the shit Bobby put him through because he refused to think before he spoke. “It’s forgotten.”

“I’m serious,” Bobby said. He needed Hank to know this.

“So am I.”

Hank looked at him, and it was all too much. Bobby looked away. “I miss you up there. At the mansion.”

Hank snorted. “You miss tormenting me with all your practical jokes.”

Bobby shrugged, his eyes still refusing to look at him. Instead, his eyes danced to the walls. Hank had put a photograph up. The original team; young and happy and no idea of the shit storm about to come their way. “The new guys don’t appreciate it.”

Hank hesitated. “You know you don’t have to stay with the X-Men if you don’t want to.”

Bobby wanted to laugh but he knew it would twist out of his mouth into something bitter. “What else can I do? And don’t say anything ‘cos I’m not a genius like you.”

“The Professor would still pay for college.”

Bobby scowled. Someone else he didn’t want to think about right now. “I didn’t come back from the dead to waste my new life doing boring shit. I’m just readjusting.”

That was what Ororo had said, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt until he destroyed all the cells in her houseplant. He could do it so easily now. Could do it to a human, turn them into sludge.

Bobby’s hands tightened on his knees, his knuckles turning white. With his power jumping up, he was dangerous now. Like, actually dangerous. Like, maybe without meaning to be. He was going to have to be careful. Not just hiding himself, but so he didn’t hurt people, because it wasn’t like he needed to think to be deadly. He could just react and not stop. He’d always sucked at that, control. He couldn’t just go around poking houseplants to see what would happen. He needed…

Bobby groaned, long and low. Hank was going to love this. Probably the reason he invited him over. Asshole.

“You should probably run some tests on my powers.”

Just as Bobby thought, Hank’s face broke out into a wide grin. It was his favourite thing to do: push mutants to their limits as he took their all sorts of readings and a whole load of blood. But it was better than Bobby doing it by himself. Less likely to involve being stabbed or shot or stepping in front of a train just to see how invincible he really was.

“I’ll be honoured,” Hank said. He seemed to pull a notepad and pen between one blink and the next, his glasses suddenly on his face. “I’ve actually already prepared some preliminary questions for you.”

Bobby laughed, shaking his head. This was why he came back to Hank. It was like nothing had changed. “Don’t make me regret this.”

“It will only take moments,” Hank assured. It would be a lot more convincing if Bobby hadn’t been subject to his questionnaires before. He didn’t like to leave a single stone unturned.

“How about you come up to the mansion tomorrow instead? I just want to hang right now.” And he did. This was what he needed. Hank being his best friend.

Hank looked like he thought waiting was the most foolish idea he’d ever heard in his life, but Bobby had definitely said dumber things around him before. Slowly, Hank put the pen and paper down on the table. “If you insist…”

“I really do.” Bobby stretched his back out. “Is War still living in The City?”

Hank nodded, shooting one last regretful look towards his notepad before facing Bobby again. “Still running the family company with his mom. Rumour is, she’s made some sweeping reforms.”

“I should go see him. Do you think-” Bobby cut off, not sure how to bring up Jean. But they had been living without her longer than him. Maybe Warren had moved on by now. Turned out that was easier to do than he thought.

“He’d like that.”

Bobby smirked, quickly trying to hide the relief on his face. “Think he’ll let me drive his Jag yet?”

Hank laughed. “You blew your once chance with that.”

“He really knows how to hold a grudge.”

“Only on that.”

“Only on that,” Bobby agreed with a smile. “Maybe we could go bowling.”

Hank snorted. “War hates bowling with us.”

“Well, it isn’t my fault his mutation doesn’t help him. I’m at a disadvantage too, and you don’t see me complaining.” Bobby felt himself relax. This was good. This was easy.

“You don’t-” Hank shook his head. “You accused Jeanie of using her telepathy and stormed out.”

“Well, she did.”

“You’re a sore loser.” And Hank was grinning too. This was what Bobby needed. To talk to his friend about something that wasn’t the shit show of his life.

“I’ll have you know, I take defeat with grace.”

“Oh, so that’s why you-”

A loud, panicked knock filled the room, cutting Hank off before he could spread any more lies. Bobby raised an eyebrow. “Expecting someone?”

Hank frowned, standing up. “Might be the wrong apartment.”

The banging continued as Bobby jumped up after him. “They sound angry. Get behind me.”

Hank snorted. “I can look after myself. And, as unfortunate as it is, I do look far more intimidating.”

“I thought you wanted to see my power in action,” Bobby countered.

Hank gave him a look, assessing. Ororo definitely told him of the whole stabbing situation. But he nodded. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“As if.”

Bobby made his way towards the door. He didn’t really know why he wanted to be the one to open it. Hank was right – it was probably someone knocking on the wrong apartment. But it felt like he needed to prove himself, that he could still handle things rationally. Carefully, he peered through the hole.

He wasn’t sure how he felt. His shoulders tensed up and somehow also relaxed at the same time. There wasn’t going to be a fight. Well, at least one that involved powers. He didn’t give himself time to think, just pulled open the door and glared.

“I told you not to come back.”

Scott seemed to shrink back at the sight of him. As surprised to see him as Bobby was. Of course, he didn’t know Bobby was here. But why the hell was he coming to see Hank?

He turned to his friend. “What’s he doing here?”

Hank looked guilty, putting up his hands but shrugging. “I have no idea. I didn’t invite him.”

Scott took a breath, touching his glasses before pulling himself to his full height and looking down on him. “I’m not here for you.”

The problem with Bobby’s heart beating again was those two words felt like a stab to it. Scott looked past him, looking at Hank. It made Bobby mad. He was here. Scott couldn’t just pretend he wasn’t. Couldn’t just ignore him.

“Maddie’s gone,” he said.

Chapter Text

“Maddie’s gone.”

There was probably a correct, sympathetic response to that somewhere inside of Bobby. A diplomatic thing that wanted to come out because Scott was very obviously panicking and it still twisted Bobby’s gut because caring didn’t come with an on and off switch. Only that was half the problem, so instead, Bobby scowled, crossed his arms over his chest and hissed, “Good.”

He ignored the look of hurt that flashed across Scott’s face which made him feel bad. How did people do this? Any of it. The whole stupid relationship thing. How was he going to do it again now he knew that there was this whole shitty part waiting to pounce after all the good times ended? He didn’t want to feel this way ever again.

“Bobby!” Hank scolded because he still was, kind of, a traitor.

“I’m just saying,” Bobby muttered, doubling down. He wasn’t going to admit fault, even if he felt like a child. That feeling only increased when he was ignored.

“I’m sorry, Scott,” Hank said, and he meant it.

Bobby thought he shouldn’t be here, but Scott was taking up the whole doorway. He could push past him, leave the apartment, maybe the city, and wasn’t he just thinking about San Francisco? But then he might touch him.

“No, it’s not-” Scott frowned, shaking his head. “Something’s wrong.”

“Or maybe she’s finally gained some sense,” Bobby said.

Scott’s glasses flashed, his jaw tightening. He clearly was doing his best not to look at him. He was actually angry at Bobby like Scott wasn’t the person who was in the wrong here. Bobby would apologise for surviving a horrible traumatic attempted killing and coming back to ruin his cookie-cutter normal family, but he really wasn’t.

“Why are you here?” he asked.

“I’m visiting my friend. Why are you here?”

“Same.”

They both turned to Hank who clearly didn’t want to touch any of this with a twelve-foot pole. He coughed, awkwardly. “Perhaps we should all calm down.”

“I’m calm,” Bobby lied.

“And Scott,” Hank said, that soft voice on when he knew he was going to say something he knew the other person wasn’t going to like, “while his word choice leaves much to be desired, Bobby may be correct.”

Scott’s jaw, somehow, got tighter. Maybe they both thought Hank was a traitor. Seemed kind of unfair on him, really. “He’s not. Look at this.”

Scott pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it from its neat lines. The top half was a scrawled shopping list – and Scott’s handwriting was still awful – but the bottom was a couple of lines. A lot neater, so it had to be Maddie’s. She wrote like she was trapped in the last century. Really, it was amazing Scott could even read that.

Hank put his glasses back on, squinting at it. “Surely, that goes against your point.”

Scott’s look of confusion was still the same, that little line between his eyebrows when he couldn’t work out why other people could follow his thoughts. Cute, if Bobby was going to pick a word, which he wasn’t. Just none of him was getting the memo and it was probably a real stupid idea to even be around Scott right now.

Which begged the question of why he hadn’t left already.

“No, it’s-” Scott faltered, looking around him like he suddenly realised he was still in the hallway. “Can I come in?”

“Of course,” Hank said before Bobby could speak. Over Scott as he pushed his way – careful to not touch Bobby either, and Bobby wondered if there was a point everything would stop making him angry – Hank caught Bobby’s eye in a silent apology. Bobby had to grudgingly accept it.

Scott had clearly lost a screw.

Scott moved to the kitchen, slapping the note down on the table. “Okay. She says she’s visiting her father in Omaha.”

“Right…” Hank said, slowly, as he made his way over. Bobby trailed behind. And now he really was out of excuses for why he was still here. Hopefully, nobody would call him out.

“Her parents are dead,” Scott said, flatly. “She told me.”

“Or maybe you’re not the only one keeping secrets?” Bobby suggested.

“She didn’t lie to me,” Scott said, teeth clenched, still refusing to look at him. “And she doesn’t have an Omaha accent.”

“How do you know that?” Bobby shot back.

“Because I have an Omaha accent. I grew up there.”

“Oh, right.” He knew that and now he just felt like an idiot.

“Her father could have moved there later,” Hank said, the only one actually using his brain.

“Her parents are dead,” Scott said, again, frustration bleeding out into his words. “And it’s not just that. She left a number.”

“Did you ring it?” Hank asked. He had the voice on, the careful one that couldn’t quite hide how he clearly thought the person he was talking to was slow.

“Of course, I rang it. It’s disconnected.”

“So, she got a number wrong.”

“No.” Scott’s voice also sounded like he thought he was talking to an idiot. Usually, he was better at hiding it. “It looked familiar. So, I checked it against my file-”

“Your file?” Hank asked.

“The one Xavier collected on me.”

“You have a copy?” Hank asked, eyebrow raising.

“He keeps it under his bed,” Bobby said. Looking at Hank’s face, that fact should be weird. But it had always made sense to Bobby, even without asking. It was everything Scott had on himself that was a fact, of course, he would keep it close to him. And, of course, he wouldn’t let anyone else read it. Not even Bobby. And he’d respected that. He never respected anything, but he did that.

He wondered if Scott had shown it to Maddie.

Scott looked surprised he remembered. But it hadn’t been two years for him, Bobby still remembered everything. He blinked, the light going off behind his glasses, before looking back at the paper. With that one sentence, it felt like something had just changed between them. Bobby didn’t want to know what it was.

“That’s where it gets strange,” Scott carried on, his voice slightly less tense. “It’s the number of the orphanage I grew up in.”

“Didn’t that burn down?” Bobby asked. Like he said: everything.

“Yeah. And Maddie shouldn’t know that number.”

“Scott,” Hank said, a calming smile pulling at his lips to soften the blow. “Are you sure you’re not just worried and making connections that aren’t there?”

Scott snorted. “It’s one hell of a coincidence if I am. And if it was just Maddie, maybe. But she took Nate with her. And I know something is wrong.”

Hank didn’t look convinced, opening his mouth again.

“I’m right,” Scott said before he could speak. Then, surprisingly, he turned to Bobby, seeking some kind of support, confirmation. Just on principle, Bobby should dismiss him.

Only, well, every other time Bobby had thought Scott was being paranoid, it turned out he had a good reason to be. And as crazy as it sounded, Scott believed it, every line on his face desperate.

It was all too soon because Bobby still couldn’t look at that face without wanting to help. He was still pissed at him. Just, he was finding it all a bit hard to access over the whole wanting to help him.

And Scott must have seen it on his face because he pounced. “I think it’s all connected.”

“What’s all connected?” and Bobby shouldn’t be encouraging him. He should be walking out of here and not getting involved in all this domestic shit.

“With what happened before.”

Bobby flinched. He knew what Scott was talking about. All the years that had passed, all those bad guys he’d fought, and that memory of being kidnapped with Scott still filled him with fear. He had been so sure he was going to be cut open, killed. And that monster, with his red eyes. Red eyes like he saw before he was shot.

Bobby was getting a bad feeling about it all.

“She’s not like us,” Scott carried on, and he was begging. Just like he begged for Bobby’s life all those years ago. Back when they were in love. Only Bobby was still in love with him, and Scott knew that. He was using that. “She’s human. And you’re a hero. You save people. That’s why I came here.”

“You didn’t come here for me,” Bobby pointed out.

“No, I came for help,” Scott agreed, smoothly. Bobby wondered when he got so good at this, good at people. Good at getting them to do what he needed. What happened to the person who sucked socially? But, then again, he’d always been different in a crisis. That was why so many people followed him, even if Scott never wanted that. “But you know what I’m up against. And there’s nobody I trust more.”

Maybe he was being manipulated, but that didn’t mean Scott didn’t mean every word.

Bobby didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to be pulled back into this shit, and he didn’t want to be around Scott, and he definitely didn’t want to go on a mission to save his ex’s wife and kid.

But Scott was going to go either way. And maybe it would just be a misunderstanding. Maybe Maddie was a liar and she wrote the number wrong and nothing would happen.

Or maybe something bad had happened to her, and this was her way of warning them. And if that was true, Scott could be hurt. Scott could die. And Bobby was, somehow, not pissed enough at him to let that happen.

And, well, he wasn’t a complete idiot, even if he’d been acting like it. Could use his brain and wonder if it was some big conspiracy, maybe his death was connected to it all. And, if it was, well, he kind of wanted revenge against the person who ruined his life. Because, annoyingly and complicatedly, that person wasn’t actually Scott.

Wasn’t actually Scott without or without that fact. But Bobby needed someone to blame. And it would probably be better if it was someone he could properly hate.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Hank echoed, clearly thinking insanity was catching. Maybe it was. But Bobby had started going insane a long before the knock on the door.

“Okay,” he confirmed, shrugging. “What’s the best that can happen? Scott’s wrong, and I get to see him ruin his new relationship? That sounds fun.”

Well, maybe not fun. But Bobby wouldn’t be disappointed.

“I’m not wrong,” Scott said. Clearly, he thought Bobby had been joking though, because there was a small smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Bobby was having to concentrate real hard not to mimic it.

Hank sighed, long and world-weary. “Well, I can’t let you idiots run in there without backup.”

Scott clapped his shoulder. “Good man.”

“So, are we going to ask Ororo for the plane, or do you still have a spare key? Because I think she’s mad at me,” Bobby said.

Hank looked like he was already regretting his decision. “I’ll ask.”

Chapter Text

Bobby didn’t know what Hank had said to Ororo that convinced her to give them the plane. He had been hiding in the hangar for that, aware his presence would only make things worse. She loved her plants; he was going to have to buy her a new one and do some serious grovelling before he was back in her good books. They just didn’t have the time for that right now.

He also didn’t know how Hank had convinced Ororo that this wasn’t a whole team kind of deal, let alone the only actual X-Man going being the recently resurrected one who had real successfully managed to piss everyone off by being an idiot. And Bobby himself wasn’t even convinced this wasn’t a whole team kind of mission if it was what Scott thought it was and not just him going off the deep end.

Only, it wasn’t just Scott who believed it. Bobby did as well. It made a sickening kind of sense.

Scott had always said dating him was dangerous, but back then, Bobby had been young enough to think he was immortal, that nothing could actually hurt him. And now it turned out he’d been pretty much right on that front and he was terrified. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was those cold, glowing red ones staring back at him like a death omen.

And, to make everything worse, the stifling awkwardness on the plane was doing nothing for his nerves.

Hank was up front, on the controls, and Bobby didn’t quite know why he wasn’t sitting up there with him. Instead, he was staring at Scott.

Maybe it was because he looked bad. It was rare to see Scott looking so vulnerable, that note still clutched tightly in his hands. Bobby had always thought that was exclusively for him, but that probably wasn’t true anymore. But clearly, Scott thought he could still be around him, which made Bobby’s head hurt. Why couldn’t this be easy? Instead, Bobby wanted to go over and comfort him like the asshole hadn’t spent the last couple of days stomping his heart into a pulp.

It was only ever going to be a matter of time before he crumbled.

Cursing himself, he stood, moving closer to Scott. He made sure to leave a seat between them though. And he didn’t reach over and touch him. Not that it mattered, Scott's head came up anyway, giving him a look that was way too intense even through his glasses.

Bobby instantly regretted moving. They didn’t have much longer left. He should have kept his nerve.

“Uh, how are you?” Bobby’s words sounded as awkward as he felt, rolling off his tongue clumsily. He shouldn’t be doing this. Any of this. He shouldn’t have nearly died. He definitely shouldn’t have survived it.

“You know, Maddie’s a pilot,” Scott said instead of lying. And, normally, Scott not lying about how he felt should be a cause for celebration, but Bobby wished he had because instead, a shot of jealousy went through him. Because of course, she was. It was like she was the fucking perfect human being for him. Bobby never stood a chance.

He hated her, he realised, a burning in his gut he knew wasn’t fair.

Jean would be disappointed in him. She wouldn’t like him thinking ill of a woman like that. Not when she was an innocent. It wasn’t her fault she fell in love with Scott, Bobby knew first-hand how easy that was to do. And it wasn’t her fault Bobby had come back to ruin it all.

But maybe if this had happened to Jeanie, she would be feeling the same way he did now. He clung to the thought, ignoring the fact it was tarnishing her memory.

“JFK to everywhere,” Scott carried on like he didn’t know how much his words hurt. “It wasn’t easy for her, y’know. People didn’t like her at work. She walked through pickets to get jobs and stuff. But she just wanted to fly.”

“Oh,” Bobby said, not sure what to say to that, not sure why Scott wanted him to know. Maybe it was like those files under his bed. He needed it recorded in case everything went wrong, and he trusted Bobby to keep his memories safe.

“She’s strong.” It felt like he needed to believe that. “She isn’t going to let other people stop her getting what she wants. She’s like you.”

Bobby’s stomach twisted at the words, a familiar angry heat spreading from it. Because he might be on an insane mission to (possibly, probably) save her, but he didn’t want to be compared to her. Didn’t want Scott to point out where he was found wanting. “Or it means she’ll do whatever she wants and doesn’t care about anyone else.”

“She left me a note so I could find her.” Scott looked at him again. “This is all so complicated.”

Bobby snorted. Scott wasn’t talking about the mission. And Bobby didn’t need to be told, he already knew, he was living it. Because he was still pissed off at Scott for it all but his treacherous heart was still speeding up at the fact they were sitting so close. Because four days ago, he had woken up next to Scott and kissed him long and slow before going on a simple and easy mission. Four days ago, they had been in love.

And now everything was broken, and he was on a plane to maybe save Scott’s new wife from something bad, or maybe just to ruin her night as she tried to escape from him.

So Bobby knew it was complicated. It was more complicated for him than it was for Scott. Because Bobby didn’t get to come out of it being normal. No, he had ended up more of a freak. He wasn’t even sure he could call himself human anymore.

“I have a family,” Scott carried on when Bobby didn’t speak, like it would explain everything. And maybe it did, and that just pissed Bobby off even more. Because Scott was the one who went off and did that.

“What if it was just her?” Bobby knew he shouldn’t ask. There was nothing to be gained from it. Because Scott was telling him his choice, even if he was too much of a coward to say it aloud.

“That isn’t what happened.” Scott had that tone in his voice, tired and strained like he thought Bobby was being unreasonable. And maybe he was. Because it was all so painfully simple. Even Bobby could work it out.

Because it wasn’t just Nate. Bobby knew if he came along later in Scott’s life, after he knew his brother was alive, he wouldn’t have dated him. Probably wouldn’t have dated him if he had a mutant community back then. Bobby had been nothing more than a roadblock in his life for a long time. And Bobby could never kid himself into thinking that Scott had been glad he’d been shot, but there was probably a part of him that didn’t mind, because it meant he could go on and live a normal life.

Bobby had put everything into their relationship and to Scott all it was doing was holding him back. Maybe, at the start, it had been good for him, but it was never going to work in the long run. Bobby had just been lying to himself about it all. They had never managed to crack the code of dating and being able to do everything else. It all had to be so careful, secretive, exhausting.

And if Scott had the opportunity to not do it, how could Bobby be mad at him for jumping on it? Because he was jealous? Because he couldn’t?

“Well, that’s fucking convenient, isn’t it?” Bobby hissed.

The light behind Scott’s glasses went off for a second. Bobby wanted to laugh but it was frozen somewhere in his throat, a hard solid thing that threatened to choke him. Only Bobby was pretty sure that couldn’t happen anymore.

Only how did Scott think this was going to go? Did he think Bobby would just forgive him for breaking his heart? Did he think the fact Bobby was joining him on this ill-thought out plan meant something?

“I thought we could talk,” Scott said, softly, the note still clutched in his fingers. “I don’t want to lose our friendship.”

This time the laugh did manage to escape, twisting into something bitter. “You know you suck at this whole thing? So, I’m going to give you some free advice. You don’t become friends with your exes, Scott. Move on.”

Bobby couldn’t bring himself to look at Scott when he spoke, his eyes locked on the floor.

“Then why are you here?”

“Because I’m a hero.” And that never had anything to do with Scott. Because Scott was such a big, important, part of his life. But he wasn’t all of it. Bobby had lived without him before, he could do it again. So, he wasn’t going to let Scott take the parts he still had away.

He was going to have to take his own advice. He was going to actually have to move on.

Only it was hard. With Zelda, it had been an explosion, keeping him on pins and needles for weeks until it actually blew. There weren’t any actual emotions there except a twisting mix of embarrassment and relief. He hadn’t needed to get over her, just had to shred the excuse.

But this was a pathetic fizzle. It felt like there should be something more. They had spent five years together, and he wasn’t going to see Scott again after this.

Bobby hated the fact there was a part of him that still wanted one last kiss, one last good memory instead of a cliff drop into wrongness. Because it all might have come to nothing but it wasn’t nothing while it was happening.

And Scott was still important to him.

As much as it turned his stomach, Bobby owed him in a way. If it wasn’t for Scott, he wouldn’t have realised he was gay. Or, even if he had, he wouldn’t have accepted it. He would still be hiding from it all, ignoring all those thoughts and feelings and waiting for the moment he would magically change.

And it wasn’t just that. Scott had guided him to meet other mutants, to see into another world, given him the strength to try something new instead of following the easiest path in front of him without thinking. Taught him that thinking maybe wasn’t the worst idea in the world.

If it wasn’t for Scott, he wouldn’t be the man he was today.

It was annoying that he couldn’t just wipe him from his life. Get rid of the memories and start new and act like none of it ever happened. And he didn’t think anyone he knew would really understand. Sure, they had been through breakups, but not like this. Not because they went missing. And because Scott had picked a woman over him. He didn’t think he would be able to explain that to Hank, the stab to his chest which ached. Something that wasn’t really about Scott and Maddie at all, but about himself. Because Bobby couldn’t compete against that.

His eyes caught on Scott’s wrist, on the watch. Bobby’s watch. Part of him was annoyed Scott was wearing it somewhere dangerous. He’d been so careful not to break it. But it wasn’t his anymore.

“Are you going to forget me?” The question was out of Bobby’s mouth before he could stop it, small and childish. And that was the problem with doing this in a flying tin can. He couldn’t escape. He couldn’t storm off when it got too much.

Maybe that was what he needed.

“No. I don’t even want to say goodbye.” Scott’s head followed his eyes down, mouth twisting into something pain-filled when they settled on the watch. “Do you want it back?”

“No,” Bobby said, every emotion swirling inside of him. He fought back the urge to turn to ice, to numb it all. He couldn’t quite believe he was saying it. Only if Scott had been wearing it for the last two years, that was the proof Bobby needed that he cared.

Because Scott didn’t choose this either. He didn’t choose to fall in love with Maddie. Bobby knew that.

His hands tightened to fists at his sides.

“Are you sure?” and Scott sounded disappointed.

Bobby nodded, even though he wasn’t. This was all too much, all too confusing. None of it was fair.

“Get ready to land,” Hank yelled into the back, and Bobby had never been so thankful for an interruption. He stood, retaking his seat far away from Scott.

He was pretty sure that was the easy part of the night done.

Chapter Text

It felt like the air was caught in his chest as Bobby looked up at the building. A dark shadow stabbed into the sky behind a gate. He wished there was more light pollution to see it by, or at least a moon in the sky. It was smaller than the mansion and he didn’t know why he thought it would be bigger. Maybe because more people had once lived here. Didn’t seem fair that they had so much less space.

In front of it, Scott and he felt like the last two people left alive on Earth, a silence in the air that shouldn’t be there because the life of the city was close. Why couldn’t they have done this in the daylight? Other than it would probably be too late, of course.

He resisted the urge to ice up. There was a wrongness radiating from the building, trying to bury its way into his bones. And clearly, it wasn’t just him who felt it – a fire had broken out over a decade ago and nobody had rebuilt.

They used to mock Jean for believing in curses, that if something bad enough happened in a place it could seep into the ground below it, leaving an imprint of the pain and suffering. Only maybe she had been right. A psychic imprint left behind that normally only she could pick up.

But, for however wrong this place was, surely the hollowed out wreck was proof they were wrong. Nothing was here. They could go back home.

Next to him, Scott was looking up at it too. He was fighting his face to keep it blank. He was shaking – it could be from the cold, his breath clear in front of his face, but Bobby doubted it.

Suddenly, what they were doing hit him.

Scott was scared. Of course, he was. He was barely holding himself together. This was the place he barely talked about. Bobby didn’t even know the worst that had happened here. Scott might not even know. And now he was suggesting they walked into his hell – the place that gave him nightmares – for his wife and son.

Another nail in a coffin long since buried.

It felt stupid that he was even thinking about it again. He reminded himself he wasn’t actually here for Scott. He was here because he was a superhero and saving people was what he did. He was here because if all the chips were falling in the pattern he thought they were, he deserved some revenge.

“Nothing’s here,” Hank said, voice slightly too loud behind them. Bobby jumped. He thought he was still on the plane. Scott must have as well, his hand flying to his glasses before dropping awkwardly at his side.

“No,” Scott said, shaking his head. His face was twisted up, the look he got when he was trying to remember something and couldn’t quite grasp it. Bobby hated that look. Made him angry at how unfair it all was, angry for Scott. Because it wasn’t right. “There’s something more.”

“It looks like a strong breeze could knock it over,” Hank pointed out.

Bobby didn’t understand how Hank couldn’t feel the wrongness that oozed from the place like black tar. Or maybe he did understand, he just didn’t want to accept it. Because that meant it was something inside of Bobby recognised it. Maybe, even though Scott had denied it, something had been left behind before.

“Scott’s right.”

Hank looked at him in surprise, like Bobby was well known for being the rational one in situations. “I don’t see-”

“You should stay out here,” Scott said, cutting him off. His head was still fixed forward at the building. Bobby wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t even blinking behind his glasses.

Fuck. Scott grew up here. He was abandoned here. That wasn’t right. It was easy to forget with how cool and exciting and larger than life Corsair was, how much he sucked. How could anyone have lived every day feeling like this? Bobby wanted to run away and hide after seconds.

“I don’t think that would be wise.”

Bobby went to agree. They should have brought the whole X-Men team, gone in guns blazing and destroyed this place to the ground. It had been obvious from the start, but for some stupid reason, they had ignored common sense.

Scott turned to him, his head moving last like he wanted to keep the building in his eyeline for as long as possible. His face was bathed in a glow of red. And Bobby understood. Not just in this instance, but how Scott felt all those years ago, trying to keep him safe. Why he kept trying to, after, when it was too late. This was something personal, and Bobby didn’t want Hank to know what it felt like.

“No, you should stay.” Bobby couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of his mouth.

Neither could Hank. “Bobby-” he began.

“It’s probably nothing,” he shrugged, trying to hit carelessness because that was what they needed. He was usually better at pretending but this place, with the last couple of days, left him off kilter. “We’ll scream if we need help.”

That wasn’t funny, not even to him but the tight smile Scott shot him was full of gratitude. Bobby was annoyed that it still made him feel good. Not quite enough to stop the dread, but he shouldn’t be feeling it at all.

“I’m not going to let you do that.”

“I’ve got this. We’ll be fine.” Bobby held up his walkie-talkie, trying to express everything twisting around his head through his eyes. Even though he didn’t know completely what he was getting at, Hank must have seen something.

“Okay,” Hank said, reluctantly. “But, be careful.”

“When am I not?” Except when he was being shot or stabbed or walking into a literal lion’s den.

Hank gave him a look, the one that said he was worried and thought Bobby was an idiot mixed in with that new undertone of painful grief that hurt Bobby somewhere inside of him. He had to look away before he crumbled under it. He took a deep breath, steadying his nerves. It could all be nothing.

He couldn’t bring himself to completely believe it.

He’d just have to fake it then. He turned to Scott, who still looked like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Let’s do this.”

“Right,” he said but he still didn’t move. And that was totally going to convince Hank that sending them in alone was a smart move.

“C’mon, we’ve got a damsel in distress to save and then a pile of Twinkies to eat. If we wait too long, Hank’ll have them.”

Bobby hated how well he knew Scott, knew what dumb words to say to get him to lift his head and grit his teeth and walk towards his nightmares. Bobby followed, in awe that Scott was managing to do it. More amazed he was managing to do it. But, then again, he’d never been good at doing the smart thing. As he left, he gave Hank one last look.

The chain around the gate no longer had a lock around it, and Scott pulled it out. Bobby wasn’t going to focus on that or he would lose his nerve. Scott pushed the gate open, the screech of the disused hinges filling the air.

He took one last deep breath before walking through. Once he started, he didn’t seem to want to stop, his pace fast as they walked down the path towards the building.

Up close, the fire damage was more obvious as Bobby’s flashlight caught on it. Hank was right – it was dangerously close to coming down. It would just be their luck that tonight would be the night it collapsed.

The front door wasn’t locked either and Scott hesitated once they were inside. He looked upwards, to the stairs, which definitely couldn’t take their weight anymore, before turning left.

Bobby wished Scott would talk. It felt like they were walking into their own funeral. Only that wasn’t going to happen. Sure, life sucked since he got back, but he didn’t want it to end again. Nope, he was going to survive this even if it killed him. And Scott was going to live as well because as much as he sucked right now, Bobby didn’t want to live in a world without him. And Maddie and the baby were going to survive because Bobby was still a superhero and that was what he did.

Simple.

But to do all that, Bobby needed noise. And seeing as Scott only looked closer to having a freak out with every step forward they took, it looked like it was once again Bobby’s job.

“So, did this place always look this shitty or…?”

Scott jumped like he’d forgotten Bobby was still there. He stared at him for a second, probably trying to work out if he was meant to answer. “The abandoned look is new.” He paused. “But, uh, yeah.”

“That sucks.” Understatement of the century. Bobby wished he thought of a better conversation topic. Like music, or TV, or anything that wasn’t going to remind Scott of his crap childhood they were currently stumbling through.

“I thought I put this place in my past,” Scott said, suddenly, and if Bobby had intuition, he would think he asked Scott for that reason. But he didn’t. So, clearly, Scott actually wanted to talk about it. Which was very unScott-like, but he guessed it was hard to ignore something which was flashing in neon in front of his face. “But since Nate… it makes you think about it all. I want him to grow up better than I did. Protect him. Jesus, Bobby, I’ve fucked it up already.”

Bobby took a second to wonder if he was really going to do this: comfort Scott Summers, who had broken up with him, on his skill at being a parent. Skills Bobby hadn’t even seen, and even if he had, he had no idea what was needed to be a dad anyway. Well, he knew, and Bobby could confirm he had one, but it was the whole after part Scott was talking about, and Bobby was hazy on that.

But he also knew Scott was a good dad. There was probably a word for him. A bleeding heart, or a love-sick fool.

“The Prof isn’t coming to see me. I thought, with the whole miraculous resurrection thing, he might swing by and check in on me. Shoot the shit or whatever. But he’s not. I always thought he would protect us, even if it was him who sent us into danger.”

“Bobby-” Scott began but he wasn’t done yet. He had something to say.

“You’re doing this. Even if it’s your fault he’s in danger, you’re getting him out of it as well. You can’t be that bad.”

“Saying I’m slightly better than a man I don’t like isn’t the glowing recommendation you think it is.”

“I didn’t say you were better. I said you were like him,” Bobby scowled.

“And that’s worse.”

“I don’t know why I bother.” A beat passed. “My father once punched my neighbour in the face for me.”

“I thought you said your dad sucks too.”

“Yeah, but not as much as yours does.” Scott didn’t disagree with that. And maybe that was Scott’s problem. He didn’t have a decent role model to go off. “The neighbour’s kid called me a coward or something, so my father punched his dad in the face. It was kind of funny, at the time, ‘cos my father isn’t like that, y’know. I think he was protecting his pride, or maybe it hit a nerve.” Bobby frowned. “But, I think what I’m trying to say is, sometimes even shit dads are good. Or good dads are shit.”

“Y’know, you kind of suck at this.”

Bobby snorted. “Yeah, well, I’m saying you’re not completely rubbish.”

Scott gave him a smile, probably as genuine as he was going to get at this moment. “Thanks. That means a lot. Coming from you.”

Bobby narrowed his eyes. “I meant as a-”

“Shut up.”

Bobby’s mouth flopped open, turning to give Scott an earful, but as his flashlight hit him, he noticed Scott had stopped, his face scrunched up in concentration. He shook his head, the frown on his face deepening.

“I think-” Scott didn’t finish the sentence, taking a step backwards and lifting his light up to one of the doors. “Here.”

Bobby raised an eyebrow. The door could be any other, slightly crispy around the edges. “Are you sure?”

Scott snorted. “Like I’d forget.”

Probably a turn of phrase. Scott didn’t remember a lot of things. But from the way his hands were locked at his sides, his breath shallow as he tried to stare it down, well, that was good enough for Bobby to know it meant something.

Knowing Scott would be useless, Bobby reached for the handle – and, oh, he’d iced up. So, he could do that without realising now. Great. That meant he couldn’t even take a deep breath before opening the door.

Well, it was now or never.

The lock clicking open echoed like a gunshot in the silence. Bobby managed not to flinch. He wasn’t sure what was on the other side, but he knew it was nothing good. Slowly, he pushed it open.

Inside was a staircase, leading downwards.

Behind him, Scott let out a shuddering breath but Bobby couldn’t look back at him without losing his nerve. He didn’t need to look at Scott to know whatever was at the bottom of it was going to be terrifying.

He couldn’t shake the fact it wasn’t even hidden properly. Like whatever had happened down there, everyone knew about it. Or, everyone had been made so they didn’t. He didn’t know what was worse. If it was a lack of caring, or if people had cared until they suddenly didn’t when it was wiped from their minds. Bobby was getting a newfound hate of telepaths.

“We don’t have to do this,” Bobby reminded him though he was long past the point of thinking this was all made up by Scott’s paranoia. He could feel it.

“I do,” Scott said, and his voice was surprisingly steady, like he just needed Bobby to do the first push. He moved past him, taking the steps quickly like he was trying to get to the end before his courage ran out. Bobby didn’t blame him. The wrongness down here was thicker. If he was in his human form, he would choke on it all. Instead, it was a megaphone in his head begging him to turn back around, to start running and never come back.

Bobby wished it was a longer staircase, that the flashlight was stronger, that the villain’s lair could be on a sunny beach and not in the bowl of a creepy abandoned orphanage.

The whole thing felt inevitable. Bobby wished he had paid more attention when he first came to the mansion and the Professor had tried to bond with him by teaching him chess instead of being quickly given up on because he felt like a pawn in a game and he didn’t know enough to work it all out.

Hank would know. He was smart and could make all those quick connections in his mind and tell Bobby all the answers. But he was glad he was outside. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into this shit. But neither did Bobby, or Maddie, or the baby. Neither did Scott.

As they reached the bottom, Scott looked back, putting his fingers to his lips like Bobby wasn’t the professional in this situation. He flicked off his light, and Bobby, against every instinct screaming at him not to, did the same. Bobby focused on his feet, trying to keep them as light as possible on the ground as they inched down the corridor.

Then, too soon, they were at the end. Scott inhaled sharply but it took a second for Bobby to drag his eyes up.

Maddie sat in the middle of the room, rocking Nate in her arms and humming Make Your Own Kind of Music. Jean used to love Mama Cass, and Bobby blinked at how absurd that thought was coming to him right now was. But it could be her. Only she would never get the chance, dying before she could step towards domestic. Not that this was anything close to domestic, not in a basement that looked like a tornado had swirled through it. Glass covered the floor, papers half burnt scattered about, with twisted metal objects he couldn’t look at too hard because if he did, he would be reminded of another metal table he nearly died on.

He guessed this was where the fire started.

If it was up to Bobby, they would hang back, make a plan. They were right. Why was this the one time they had to be right?

But it wasn’t his wife or kid.

“Maddie?” Scott asked, desperation and fear and everything else he usually kept hidden leaking into his voice. He was across the room in seconds, in front of her.

Maddie’s head shot up, tear tracks down her cheeks. She was terrified, pale, but when her eyes locked on Scott’s face the relief that shone through was painful. Bobby recognised that, had felt it before. He had to look away as she stood and Scot wrapped his arms around her, baby pressed between them.

Somehow, his frozen stomach twisted. They were so clearly in love.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Maddie said, voice edging dangerously close to hysterical. This wasn’t her world. “I don’t know why I’m here. Why I couldn’t tell you. But you worked it out.”

“Of course, I did,” Scott said softly.

Of course, he did, Bobby thought bitterly. He was kind of amazed he still could. To look at this situation and still feel all that heartbreak and anger and pettiness.

“We’re going to get you both out of here,” Scott said, softly.

“And how,” came a voice, cold and echoing and the same as the one that haunted the furthest reaches of Bobby’s mind, “do you plan on doing that?”

In this form, Bobby couldn’t close his eyes. That was a good thing, because if he could, he would shut them and never open them again. Instead, he was forced to watch, unable to look away, as the dark shadows got heavy, began to twist into something. It was always those red eyes first. They always left him cold and hopeless, his mind stuttering to a stop. They took him away from the basement to falling into the ocean, being ripped apart by red hot led.

He was going to die.

Bobby knew it.

The part of his mind that wasn’t screaming in fear and pain, saw Scott push Maddie and Nate behind him. His hands went up to his glasses but everyone knew he wasn’t going to shoot. He couldn’t.

Suddenly, Bobby was struck by how stupid they had been. They had done this before. They had nearly died last time. And they still walked in alone, left Hank behind like that wasn't the last thing they should have done.

Fucking chess.

They were being played.

“Stay back,” Scott said, and for someone who couldn’t do anything, his voice was surprisingly strong.

The creature ignored him, those eyes fixed on Maddie. No, not her. Not on the pale face of a terrified woman, but the baby clutched in her arms and Bobby knew they should have fucking talked about it all. Because the creature was a geneticist and he really didn’t want Scott to be gay, and the Prof had done more lessons on eugenics than Bobby could count and it just seemed so fucking obvious now.

It was never really about Scott, or him, or Maddie.

It was about his kid.

He wondered if Scott knew all along. He was far from dumb. Even before he could read, he was smarter than Bobby. He could probably play chess really well. Maybe he put it all together years ago, and still went ahead and had a kid anyway. No, that was unfair. Scott wasn’t like that, wasn’t that selfish. He was probably having the same epiphany as Bobby right now, cursing himself for being such a fool. If he made it out of here, he was going to live with that guilt. Not that it was Bobby’s problem anymore.

“I didn’t think you had it in you,” the creature hissed, and Bobby felt his ice thicken around him. At least it wasn’t dry in here, at least he wasn’t powerless. Not like all those years ago. That didn’t change the fact he felt cold. He knew what absolute zero felt like now, he knew what death felt like, but he couldn’t understand the frozen core of a truly evil soul. Kurt had joked the ninth circle of hell wouldn’t bother him, but it would. He was pretty sure he was standing in it right now.

He didn’t want to die.

Not again.

“Of course,” the creature carried on, “you were never just mine. That spark came from someone else.”

“What do you mean?” Maddie asked, her voice stuttering as she held her baby closer. She wasn’t even trying to hide her fear, but she wasn’t letting it control her. She had no idea.

“I think you know. Doesn’t this place feel like home?” He smiled, all sharp teeth, and Bobby knew they were being mocked.

“Maddie, don’t listen to him,” Scott said, all tense and helpless. All of them, helpless.

She didn’t listen. Stubborn. She looked so much like Jeanie, even lifted her jaw in the same way with that defiant fire in her eyes. “I know you.”

“I made you,” the creature corrected.

“What?” Scott asked, flinching like he’d been struck. He turned to Maddie like he was seeing her for the first time, a slight wobble of betrayal in his voice. And why did it have to come up now when Bobby couldn’t take any pleasure from it? He had wanted it all to blow up in Scott’s face, but not like this. Not when it was clear Maddie was innocent. Because whatever the creature had put in her head, she clearly had no choice in the matter, or else she wouldn’t be standing there as confused and as scared as the rest of them.

Scott had been so sure nobody could keep him safe. Bobby suddenly realised nobody could have kept any one of them safe. Not the Professor, not their mutant friends, not Bobby himself who just ran into danger and fell in love and was a complete idiot.

“Oh, don’t act so surprised, Scott. This is all your fault,” the creature said. “If you’d just… but it doesn’t matter now. I don’t need you anymore. And yet, you still find a way to mess everything up. Running away, squandering your genetic potential, and now this? It was only a matter of time before you worked it all out now your little boyfriend was back in your life. My extraction plan had to be brought forward.”

“I’m not,” Bobby said before he could think about the words coming out of his mouth. Why the hell was he bringing the creature’s attention on him? “Back in his life. He doesn’t want me.”

“Robert,” the creature said, spitting out the name like it was something dirty as he turned to face him. “I’m impressed by you. I didn’t think you had it in you to come back.”

His compliment felt slimy, and Bobby hoped it couldn’t stick to him in this form.

“I’m not that easy to kill.”

The creature laughed, all nails on a chalkboard. “No, you’re not. Really, this whole thing is a shame.” He turned away. Clearly, he still didn’t think Bobby was a threat. He would know – he took Bobby’s DNA. He probably knew everything he could do, and it wasn’t enough. “This could have been easy. You should have let your wife go, Scott. She still has a purpose – at least, for a few more years.”

“Purpose?” Maddie asked and Bobby didn’t know why she was still here. Why she hadn’t started running the moment the creature had appeared. Maybe she was as trapped as the rest of them.

“You gave me a child. Even named him after me. I had hoped you would help raise him. But, perhaps, it’s for the best. You would have made him weak.” The creature held out his hands, pale and claw-like. Bobby could remember them pressed against his chest. “So, why don’t you pass me my grandson?”

“She’s not doing that,” Scott said. His voice was icy, a threat curled around every word, but he wasn’t fooling anyone. They’d done this before.

The creature didn’t even spare him a glance, eyes once again fixed on the baby. “That’s not your decision. Madelyne.”

Slowly, like she was being tugged by an unseen rope, she took a step forward. Bobby would be lying if he said he understood everything going on, but even he could work out that giving a baby to someone who looked like a literal living nightmare was a stupid idea. Oh, and he was certain now he died for this, and that wasn’t something he’d planned on getting over ever. And maybe Scott and Maddie were helpless, but what was actually stopping Bobby? Fear? The fact he knew it would be useless? When had that ever stopped him before?

“What Scott said.” Bobby lifted up his hands, glad his voice didn’t crack. He didn’t know how powerful he was now – not enough – but he could distract him. Maybe knock the other two out of whatever hold the creature had on them so they could get away.

“You’re not a part of this anymore, Robert. You said that yourself.”

“You shot me.”

“I didn’t. Guns are far too much of a messy business for me. But I suppose I did set it up. But you came back, so I’ll let my graciousness extend again. You can leave.”

There was something there. Not fear; Bobby wasn’t even close to being scary. But perhaps a bluff. Only he was as rubbish at poker as he was at chess. He didn’t know what it meant, and it was a stupid thing to gamble on. But that creature had stolen his DNA, knew his limitations. He was powerful. Maybe the creature knew he couldn’t take him down.

And, if he was wrong, well, he’d never been good at walking away.

“Or I could freeze your ass to absolute zero and then Scotty here could blast you into a million pieces. Right, Scott?”

“Right,” Scott said after a pause, like after all this time he still couldn’t believe Bobby wasn’t going to abandon him.

“You’ve already lost,” the creature said, and Bobby forced himself not to believe it. His eyes flashed as he turned back to Maddie. “Come here, girl.”

And then, Nate disappeared.

Maddie screamed, half in panic, half in despair. How was this getting weirder?

“What did you do?” she cried and whatever trance the creature had over her, she’d snapped out of it. Her anger was leaking out, a burning hot thing, like she had the power of a star trapped inside of her. She looked like she was going to attack the creature on her own, and, at that moment, Bobby wouldn’t put it past her to get a couple of good shots in. But the monster just looked confused as well.

None of this was making sense.

Bobby wanted to call a time-out and get some answers. Instead, because everything going to shit should be Bobby’s catchphrase, Scott and Maddie both collapsed. Falling to the floor like their strings had been cut.

That was not good.

Real not good.

Bobby had just learnt he was pretty invincible. As he turned to the creature, he really wished he had more time to test that theory before putting it into action.

He was so fucked.

Chapter Text

Bobby had one thing going for him: the creature, who was certainly about to take him out like he was swatting a fly, seemed just as confused by this whole turn of events as Bobby was.

This was his time to strike. To gather all that skill he’d learnt with the X-Men and just react with speed and deadliness even though he didn’t have much of a clue about what was going on. He knew the basics: creature bad. Everything else could be worked out later.

He would probably be more effective at it if he knew how to turn things into ice that wasn’t him or his clothing or a fucking houseplant.

The clothing, though, was an advantage he wasn’t going to complain about. The only way this whole thing could suck more was if he had to face the creature butt-naked. He just wished he had some time to properly train, to practice, to get comfortable with his new power jump that didn’t involve getting stabbed by Logan.

What did the Professor used to say? The best time was to start yesterday, the second best time was now.

He lifted his hands up and thought of cold things. Of ice cream and snow storm and death. The stream that shot out of his hands seemed denser than he was used to, twisting its way across the room and slamming the creature square in the chest.

Immediately, Bobby knew he’d messed up.

He did that a lot but every time it happened it still felt like a surprise. His ice hadn’t even phased the creature, brushing it off like it was nothing. And now he was paying attention to Bobby. He turned, eyes shining red and his teeth somehow looking more sharp. But Bobby kept himself in the basement. The wrongness couldn’t reach him in this form.

He’d tried death. It didn’t agree with him.

The creature stepped forward and Bobby lifted his hands up again. He took a deep breath. Not that it did anything physically, he had no flowing blood to draw oxygen into, but the action calmed him.

He could do this.

He didn’t know how, but he could.

While he didn’t like Scott right now, and doubly didn’t like his new wife and kid, Bobby was going to protect them. That was his job as an X-Man. And, well, if he did owe Scott for all the help he’d given him, this would certainly be enough to pay him back.

The basement around him was getting colder, a visible sheen of ice building on the surfaces. He had to make sure he didn’t keep going. Maddie and Scott had passed out (or were dead, some unhelpful part of his mind said, but Bobby didn’t want to think about that), and couldn’t keep themselves warm.

He shot his power out again, and this time didn’t stop. He didn’t need to. He could do it forever. And it was sort of working. Sort of, because the creature has stopped moving forward, not that he was retreating.

Bobby couldn’t hurt him. He needed Scott for that.

Only…

Maybe not.

After all, how much more complicated could a human be than a houseplant anyway?

But he would need to get closer. Much closer.

He kept one of his arms up, still shooting the ice out of his palm, as he pointed the other towards the ground, covering the floor between him and the creature. This would be simple. They used to play tag all the time in training. It was the same as back then.

Only this wasn’t his teammate, but a creature who wanted to kill him. The stakes were so much higher.

Bobby didn’t think, scared he would lose his nerve. Instead, he took a step backwards before launching himself forward, skidding ice against ice. He kept his power up until the last second, replacing it with his other hand. He wouldn’t be able to do this in normal form, the pulsing power of death that emitted from the creature too strong. But ice couldn’t understand it.

He gripped his hand around the creature’s bicep and thought of the cold.

He should have trained more.

Because this creature wasn’t human, let alone a plant. And his molecules didn’t react right, refused to listen to his power trying to change them. Instead, they surged like a live wire, rebounding in a wave of wrongness and death that sent Bobby flying backwards. His body burnt, turning back into flesh in a wave of heat.

His heart began to beat as his back smashed into the wall. He lay stunned for a second, the world turning into a too-fast thump in his ears, his breathing harsh and desperate. His mind couldn’t keep up, and his body refused to move even as he begged it to get back up, to fight, to do something.

He blinked and the creature was above him, looking down, his lips pulled into a sneer. And Bobby was falling. Bobby was going to die. Bobby was-

A burning hole appeared in the creature’s chest.

Bobby blinked as the creature screamed, mind too slow to rejoice that something was going his way. Because he hadn’t done that. Couldn’t do that, not even with his power jump. The only person he’d seen do that was – his eyes flicked to Scott. Nope, still passed out on the floor. It couldn’t be him. But who else could it be?

Another hole appeared in the creature’s stomach, but he must have given himself a power boast somehow because he seemed to be healing faster this time. He didn’t scream again, and while that was a bad thing, Bobby couldn’t bring himself to mind. It was piercing, like it was trying to destroy his eardrums.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bobby saw Scott’s finger twitch.

Bobby realised he needed him awake. Like now. As the creature turned around towards whatever the hell this new threat was, his attention was no longer on Bobby. This was his chance. He pulled himself towards Scott. At least he hadn’t damaged anything when he hit the wall. Just sore, his mind the reason his limbs were travelling too slowly. He stumbled onto the ground next to Scott, wasting half a precious second working out the best way to wake Scott up before throwing ice in his face.

For a second, the panic was dimmed by the thrill of pleasure that shot through his spine at the action. He had really wanted to do that.

And it worked. Scott went from zero to sixty faster than a Dodge Charger at the cold, jackknifing up with one hand on his glasses. But once he was sitting, he seemed just as confused as Bobby, turning to him with a frown.

“Bobby?” he asked, unsure, his words slurring together. The light behind his eyes flicked on and off as he blinked rapidly.

“Thank me later. I need you to shoot a guy,” Bobby replied. Behind him, he could hear a fight going on, something that sounded like an energy pistol and the hissing of the creature's flesh. Bobby didn’t want to check the progress. At least this way he could pretend it was still going their way.

“Where am I? Is this – what’s happening?”

Great. This wasn’t what Bobby needed right now. “I would say sorry for this, but I’m still seriously pissed at you.”

“You’re-” Scott began but Bobby didn’t wait for him to finish. Instead, he reached forward and grabbed Scott’s shoulders, turning him towards the creature's back, a couple of holes still melting in him.

“Take off your glasses,” Bobby ordered.

Scott, at least, managed to follow that instruction. Maybe his head was finally in the game, or maybe he just trusted Bobby enough to follow blindly. It didn’t matter right now.

As he ripped them off, red streamed from his eyes. The light burnt Bobby’s human eyes, but he couldn’t ice up, and he couldn’t look away. The buzzing of Scott’s powers drowned everything out. He hoped the other guy was still shooting.

He watched the creature as, under his pale skin, his skeleton lit up red, caught between the two blasts, before crumbling to ash on the floor.

The silence that followed Scott shutting off his beams rang just as loudly as the noise before. He shoved his glasses back on his face, but Bobby wasn’t looking at him. No, he couldn’t draw his eyes away from where the creature had just stood, and the man who saved them.

He was an older guy, all white hair and bulging muscles. Bobby didn’t recognise him, didn’t know why he was here. He just hoped he was on their side. Because if not, well, he was holding the biggest gun Bobby had ever seen in his life.

“I modded my blaster so it has the same output as your eyes,” the man said, his voice so low Bobby felt his own chest rumble along with it. The man tucked it into a hold on his back, the large handle sticking out far past his head. Scott stared at the new guy, face pale. Bobby was pretty sure he had stopped breathing. “I was always told we were going to kick his ass together.”

“Nate?” Scott hissed.

Bobby’s head spun, and not just from the trip into the wall. He knew he was twelve steps behind but that really didn’t make any sense. Nate was a baby. He was a literal baby. Bobby had seen him five minutes ago. And Scott knew that better than he did. So why was he saying it like it was possible? Like he believed it with all his heart?

“Dad,” the man said, nodding his head towards him stiffly. There was tension in the air, thick. Then, he turned to Bobby and did the same, only this time a slight smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Uncle Bobby.”

Bobby’s mouth popped open but no words could escape. That made even less sense. Less less sense. Bobby was no uncle. He hated kids. He kind of really hated Scott’s kid in particular. Only this couldn’t be Scott’s kid, because he was older than him. And he’d never met this person in his life, so why would he be calling him uncle?

He shook his head. Maybe he never actually woke up from the dream where he turned into ice. Maybe this was all alcohol-fuelled and he was about to wake up in Hank’s spare room and everything would be normal. Only the world went tits up before that. It would make more sense if Bobby was dead, because none of this could be happening.

He wasn’t sure he could make this up though.

Nate, who was real old and somehow knew him and called him uncle like Bobby might care about him, looked at the last person in the room. His jaw locked in the same way Scott’s did when he was upset.

Bobby followed his faze, suddenly remembering Maddie existed again. She was still lying on the ground, hair fanned around her, asleep. Nate stepped forward, kneeling beside her. It didn’t seem possible that hands that big could brush her hair away from her face so carefully. It felt almost rude to watch, but Bobby couldn’t stop.

Carefully, Nate placed his arms under her and lifted her up to his chest like she was a child. He held her close for a second, shutting his eyes. He looked vulnerable. Then, he shook it off, turning back to the door, stopping only when Scott let out another disbelieving “Nate” like it was the only word he still knew.

Nate turned, and his eyes flashed the same way as Scott’s did as well. Only not quite. It only happened with one eye, and it shone gold. But there was power inside of him, bubbling away. “I would like to be able to bury my mom this time.”

Scott flinched at that like he’d been hit. If he had anything else to say, he kept it to himself.

Nate – and it had to be and Maddie was dead and Bobby was so lost – looked disappointed at that. He turned, his eyes locking on Bobby’s for a second, but he couldn’t understand what he was trying to convey. If he was trying to convey anything at all.

Then, he walked out of the room. Gone.

Bobby, ridiculously, wondered if anyone would stop him once he walked out of the orphanage. Hank might – only, where was Hank? He should have stopped him from getting in. Or followed him. He didn’t have the space to think about so many people. Anyway, the guy was huge, and had a gun. Bobby wouldn’t try to stop him and it was his job.

Bobby stared at where he’d disappeared for a second longer. None of this made any sense. Clearly, he’d missed something important. He turned to Scott for answers, but he wasn’t in a state to give him anything. He was sitting on the floor, hugging his knees. He looked lost.

“Nate,” he whispered again like he was stuck in a loop.

And Bobby didn’t want to feel anything towards Scott anymore, but it had only been four days (or two years, or maybe fifty looking at Nate) and Scott looked pathetic. Like his whole world had just been shattered around him. Bobby couldn’t just leave. He probably wouldn’t be able to if his heart was still ice.

Instead, he carefully reached forward and touched Scott’s shoulder.

“What just happened?” he asked because he couldn’t fix anything when he had no idea what was going on.

“It’s my fault,” Scott mumbled to his hands before twisting his head towards Bobby. His glasses had turned his eyes into a swirling red void. Bobby was aware his hand was still on Scott’s shoulder.

“What is?” And maybe there was annoyance in Bobby’s voice. Because it was Scott’s fault. Because they had never talked about anything, and now everything had gone really fucking wrong.

“Maddie died because of me.” Scott flinched at his own words, reaching out and grabbing the hand Bobby hadn’t removed. His skin burnt, like Jeanie in her last days. It hurt. He wanted him to let go, and he really really didn’t. “You died because of me.”

He already knew that. “What just happened, Scott?”

“She took us to the future.”

“Time travel?” Bobby snorted. He didn’t know why that seemed like one thing too much. That it was the line he refused to cross. He was a superhero, and he spent the last two years bobbing around as a block of ice in the Pacific. But that was the thing that felt too science fiction.

Except, of course, it would explain Nate.

“We had to – I had to-” His head moved, staring at the spot Maddie had lain. And with his adrenaline crashing, and Scott crushing his hand like a lifeline, Bobby couldn’t even bring himself to be pissed at that. He just felt tired. Like he didn’t want to be here at all. It should have been a win, not this emptiness. “Everything had gone wrong. The world it – but Nate survived. Nate survived.”

“Survived what? You’re not making any sense.”

“Apocalypse.”

Jean slept.

She was trapped in a nightmare. She was burning like a comet, crashing back towards Earth. The fear was all-consuming. She needed to save her team. She was the leader. She had to look out for them.

Jean slept.

She prayed they would make it, even if it took her life. She prayed Warren would forgive her for leaving him like this.

Jean slept.

And above her, on the surface, life carried on. The world spun. She was not forgotten.

Jean slept.

And the Phoenix, lost and confused and bleeding, ripped from its last host, sought a new one as it tumbled through time. It found her where it left her. It dived down, seeking its way towards the fire that burnt in Jean’s soul like a beacon.

Jean slept.

It buried itself into her, twisting around her mind. It belonged here. She could bring in the fire. But the Phoenix was weak, and Jean could only usher in the ashes. She could not bring the new world. She was not the hope they needed.

Jean slept.

That was okay. There was still time. For now, the world could just burn.

Jean slept.

But not for much longer.