Mirror, Mirror | By : Nemain Category: X-Men - Animated Series (all) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 5878 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men Evolution, or any of the characters from it. I make no money from from the writing of this story. |
A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *eg * I know what you’re getting for Yule! InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: More to come in a bit… Morgan: *tiny stalk * Readers/Reviewers: Mille grazie for reading/reviewing as you can! It’s much appreciated!
“You know what I think?”
“I think the question you want to ask is do I care what you think. And the answer to that one is ‘no’.”
Bobby frowned at Amara, leaning against the door to the medical bay. “Well, tough shit, I’m going to tell you anyway. I’m between you and the hall so ner.” He did not go as far as to stick his tongue out at her but they both knew he wanted to. He was waiting on Beast to finish his labs and release him for the day; the only thing the good doctor could do, Bobby had found out, was make sure he was not contagious or on the verge of death. His condition was so sudden and so unknown, Beast had told him, that all they could do was monitor him. He had strict orders to come down for a regiment of tests each day, and if he felt ‘odd’ to come down immediately, no matter the time. As it was, Bobby was worried it was some new manifestation of powers but Beast had put that idea down in an instant. Belatedly, he realized Amara was staring at him, a rack of test tubes held in her hands, obviously waiting because she had no choice. “I think that the Morlocks are working with the Friends of Humanity.”
“You,” Amara said after a momentary pause, “are insane.” She pushed past him, rattling the test tubes in their rack, adding over her shoulder, “Even a particularly stupid rodent would not make such an assumption, given the preponderance of evidence.”
“I hate it when she’s in chemistry,” he sighed as she disappeared down the hall. “She gets all empirical.”
Beast chuckled behind him, emerging from the back of the lab as Bobby turned to face him. “Your labs are normal,” he said encouragingly. “The only thing that gives me even the slightest concern is this low grade fever you’ve been running for a few days now. I’m not finding an elevated white cell count but that doesn’t mean there’s not some hidden source of infection that has not manifested yet. I’d like to draw one more vial of blood and then you may leave for the day.”
Bobby groaned inwardly and shuffled back to the low exam table, sitting on the edge with an air of dejection and holding out his arm for Beast to start prodding. _What the Hell, _ he thought. _I’ll run it by him… _ “Beast…”
“Yeeeeeeeeeees?” He tapped Bobby’s arm soundly, making a blue vein rise to the surface.
“I think the Morlocks are working with the Friends of Humanity.”
“Mmmm. Why?” Easily, he slid the needle into the vein, watching as the plastic canula filled with deep red blood and drained into the attached tube. “I must say that is an unusual conjecture…”
“Well, think about it,” Bobby sighed, warming to the idea that someone would listen to him without judging him, at least not aloud. “The Morlocks want to be known, right? The Friends of Humanity need a scapegoat, someone to point to and say how bad mutants are, how we’re the monsters in the closet.” He winced as Beast pulled the needle out and pressed a cotton ball to the tiny bead of blood welling to the surface of his skin. “The Morlocks might want to go along with some sort of plan that would make ‘em out to be the bad guys. I mean, they’re tired of hiding and from what happened last time they came up…”
“You think they would allow the Friends of Humanity to use them as a whipping boy, make people hate them?” Beast raised a shaggy brow at Bobby, then smiled slowly. “That’s not a bad notion, you know. It’s just not as neat and tidy as we would like.”
“That’s the other thing,” he complained, “why do we care about what they’re doing? We’re not their babysitters… we should just keep an eye on ourselves, you know?” He slid from the table, tossing the blood-dappled cotton into the trash. “Let the Morlocks fight it out with the Friends of Humanity.”
“Bobby,” Beast said quietly, his tone void of any amusement or compassion, “the day we become self centered and self serving is the day we become the enemy.”
His cheeks reddening at this subtle admonishment, Bobby tried to explain himself further. “I don’t want to die because of something I don’t believe in, you know? I don’t want to be better than the norms and I don’t want to be some…some…”
“Marginalized member of society, forced to hide or be imprisoned or worse?” Beast suggested, slotting the test tube into the centrifuge. “You’re late for trig,” he said, changing topics smoothly. “Do you need a note?”
Bobby sighed, knowing he was being cut off at the knees. “No, I think Jean will get over it.” He let himself out of the lab and began the long trek up to the rear study, wondering if he could conceivably kill enough time to miss trig altogether. No matter what Beast or Amara or anyone said, he knew there was a link with the Morlocks and the Friends of Humanity. He knew that they were somehow aligned, no matter what any side said. He was so wrapped in his own thoughts that he nearly jumped in shock when Lance’s hand shot out of the shadows and grabbed his upper arm. “DUDE! Watch it!” Bobby cried. “I’m too old to wet myself!”
Lance snorted, stepping out where Bobby could see him. “What’re you doing tonight?” he asked without preamble.
“Why, Lance, I’m flattered but you know I’m with Saint John…” he winced inwardly, wondering how he was going to face Saint John after the incident in the rec room the night before. He had been able to fool himself into thinking his boyfriend would understand it was not something he chose to do, but when Saint John had not come to see him in the infirmary, he had to begin to rethink that.
“Shut up, dude. I need you to come with me to town tonight. There’s something going on and you’re useful.” He frowned, taking in Bobby’s wan complexion. “You sick or something?”
“No,” he sighed. “Just tired. What’s going on?”
“An anti-mutant rally. We’re…going on recon,” Lance smiled. “And we need you.”
Bobby opened his mouth to refuse but heard the ‘yes’ leave his mouth before he could stop it.
“Good. Be ready at six. Meet me in the garage then and wear that dumbass uniform.”
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