Work Text:
Notes: ~blah~ telepathic speech. Italic-thoughts.
"Where are you and I'm so sorry
I cannot sleep I cannot dream tonight
I need somebody and always
This sick strange darkness
Comes creeping on so haunting every time"-Blink 182
Jono hunched over the black and white pages of his journal, his pen scribbling as he tried to get his mind to focus on something, anything other than the constant self-loathing that plagued him like a dark shadow day in and day out ever since his powers had manifested. That was why his notebooks were covered with prose, notes, bits of poetry and the occasional sketches when he simply felt tapped out of words.
This was one of those times. He simply couldn't come up with anything else to pour into the battered black notebook, yet he was hesitant to close it and call it a day. There was something else he wanted to write, but it was so faint. It was almost a suggestion of a thought that he simply couldn't grasp and it was annoying him to no end.
~Yet ye call yourself a musician, when ye can't find the words for something so simple.~ He snorted and ran his fingers through his thick hair before finally giving up and walking out of his Bahaus-papered room and into the quiet elegance of the hallways of the Xavier mansion. Escape was the operative word of the day. Maybe if he was outside rather than locked up in a room with The Sisters of Mercy, Bahaus, Stabbing Westward and My Ruin on constant repeat. There were even times when even the depressed, angsty introvert needed to shed the irritation blooming under flesh.
Giving a mental sigh of relief he hadn't run into anyone, he made his way outside. He wasn't in the mood for any interaction, despite craving it desperately.
Although he was now whole, he never thought he would feel so miserably incomplete. After the whole incident with Weapon X, he had simply wandered. The taste of the assignment had yet to fade from his mind and soul and even though he had gotten back his body, he had to privately ask himself whether it had all been worth it. But wandering had only done so much for him until he had finally woken up one day and decided that it was time to stop running. He still hadn't fully reconciled himself with the X-men, but at least it was a constant and at that time in his life, that was enough.
It wasn't just the fact that he had killed for the sake of the mission that still nettled him, but rather the fact that he had lost what felt like the last shred of a badly tarnished and much needed innocence to keep the world from looking and feeling as jaded as he felt. He knew he would deal with that soon enough. But right now, he just needed...what the hell did he need? Adoration? Love? A purpose?
~Ye, as if the 'ole bloomin' world's gonna give ye that for the askin' and ta very much indeed..~ he thought bitterly, the thoughts as heavy as if they had been tangible.
~Ah, Bloody 'ell!.~ He thought as he ran a hand through his hair. He really was getting as bad as Morrissey, yet another one of his old mate's predictions coming true. If he turned into a nance, then he'd really be in for it. The thought made him laugh softly before he stopped himself. He was fairly sure he was supposed to be depressed at this point in time.
Shrugging at the paradox of his emotions, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and quietly went downstairs, no easy feat in boots that were meant to be loud in every sense of the word. Once he was on the grounds, made eerie by the darkness, he let his guard down.
No one was outside, which was just great with him. Although it was late, the sense of not being entirely alone didn't leave him. His powers hadn't gotten any sharper since he got home. It was just the knowledge that anyone was around. That anyone could bump the door, or knock and pierce the walls he had built up around himself. He knew it was useless to keep the world out, but at that point, he wasn't ready to give up the illusion just yet.
Walking to a more wooded area, Jono dug his hands into his pockets, his shoulders and collar up to combat the chill of the night. Although he was wearing heavy leather, the chill permeated that and served worse to remind him of his bleak outlook. Shivering slightly, he made his way to the trees. Once he was there, he slumped down onto the ground, ignoring the iciness of the ground and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a lighter that he didn't need, but used to not bring attention to himself. It was a nuisance, but it was better than having someone freak out at him lighting his fags any other way.
He had sat there, his mind as blank as he could possibly have it when he felt another person near-by. He stilled immediately and waited for them to show. He knew it wasn't someone sneaking around to do harm. Especially not when they were clumsily doing an imitation of stealth.
So he sat there and waited for the interloper to show. Sure enough, a tall, slim figure appeared in the clearing, his steps guided by the staff that was once used in combat, but was now being used in such a pedestrian manner that it would have probably wrung a cynical snort if it hadn't been so achingly pitiful. Gambit. Once the master thief, ever so full of grace and litheness had now been reduced to a shambling parody of his suave self.
He had heard about the card exploding in his face on that mission to figure out what had been causing the magnetic disturbances when he had finally made his way back to the X Mansion after it had all blown over. He hadn't seen the Cajun since he seemed to keep to himself even more after that incident, especially after he had been plagued with what rumor had it to be visions of the near future.
Needless to say, seeing him wandering around and outside of the somewhat safe confines of the mansion was a big surprise.
Taking a drag of his fag, Jono mutely watched as Gambit laboriously made his way in front of him. Sinking down a tad clumsily, he then held out his hand.
"Ye got an extra?" he asked, his whiskey voice brittle and cracked as he spoke.
~Oi. 'Ere.~ Jono responded telepathically, still not quite out of the habit of using that method to communicate.
"Thanks, Chamber, mon ami." Gambit replied, taking the fag that Jono had thoughtfully lit for him and gratefully sucking down a lungful of nicotine and tar.
If Jono had been surprised at being recognized, he didn't show it, since he knew that either a vision or the scent of cigarettes had tipped him off. After all, as far as he knew, himself and the Cajun were the only ones that actually smoked the cancer-sticks. Wolverine himself preferred cigars. Just the power of deduction.
~Eh. No problem mate.~ Gambit laughed softly and took another drag of his cigarette.
~Wot are ye doing out 'ere, if ye don' min' the question?~ Jono asked abruptly, the desire for solitude stripped from him as he watched the Cajun silently smoke, his eyes half-lidded against the blue coils of smoke that rose from his fag.
Gambit shrugged. "Wanted some fresh air, homme. Noting too special." He replied before turning those weird, yet sadly useless eyes onto him.
"Et toi?" Jono shrugged.
~Just 'ad to go oot. The 'ouse felt too close. Didn't think anyone woold be oot here at this time.~
Gambit nodded as he flicked the ashes from his nearly extinguished cigarette.
"Ah. Oui. Usually, dat's no the case. Gambit goes out and no one is out. First time in months Gambit see someone else." The Cajun explained to the younger man, who although hadn't completely gotten used to hearing the new harshness in the older man's voice, was starting to find himself curiously charmed by it. In a way, it was soothing the need to have his skin curl up and crawl off his body.
~Eh. Sorry 'bout that mate. Ah can leave...~
"Non. It's fine.' Gambit told him as he took another drag. "Y' don' bother Gambit. Gambit should be the one askin' if it's alright to..."
~Stay, mate.~ Jono whispered, his voice low and soft even to him. Gambit didn't reply right away and it made him wonder whether he had even heard him at all.
~Merci~ it came so quietly and softly that he nearly would have missed it if there had been any other sound nearby.
They sat in silence for what felt a long time, making Jono positive his arse was frozen to the ground when Gambit stirred.
"Best be goin' back, homme. Daylight's comin'" Gambit whispered as he fumbled about for his staff.
Jono felt a small pang of loss when Gambit announced his intention to leave. The man had been an oddly soothing companion even in his prickly and unsettled state, and it simply wasn't due to the fact that he was silent. Much rather, it was as if the man was subconsciously radiating a calmness that Jono found was the something that he hadn't been able to pen earlier in his journal. It sucked, but he couldn't do anything to keep Gambit beside him. The man was right, at any rate. Morning was fast approaching and that meant hiding for the both of them.
Sighing inaudibly, Jono watched him looking for his staff, debating whether it would be a blow to the man's pride if he handed it to him before finally deciding to take the chance.
~'ere~ Jono said, handing it to him the exact time that Gambit's battle worn hand clasped around it. The unexpected contact and the emotional backlash that it caused made both men jump back from each other hastily.
Jono only stared at the other man as he brought his hand closer to his body. Although he wasn't an empath, his telepathy was enough to pick up the emotions that the Cajun had broadcast during that brief, open time.
~Shite...the mate's bloody bleedin' 'is bloomin' soul out~ Jono thought softly to himself as he slowly processed the tangle of sadness, despair, emptiness and loneliness he caught from Gambit's mind; which was utterly at odds with the calm he was projecting. He wanted to say...say what? His mouth began to move and he was sure he had gotten a close proximity of the well-polished words he really meant to use when Gambit clasped the staff in a white-knuckled grip.
"Merci for the smoke." Was the only thing Gambit said as he finally got to his feet and began his slow way back to the mansion.
Jono sat there and watched him leave, knowing full well his skin was going to start crawling again the minute Gambit would enter the mansion.
And he hated the fact that he knew it all too clearly.
"Wot did ye do to me mate?" he whispered, knowing full well no answer would be forthcoming.
"Wot did ye do?"
End.