ax_main | Billy, Goodnight, and Scott

Billy follows up with Scott. Goodnight realizes Billy's chosen friends aren't going to be the best influences.

Warm-up was the first order of business for a Danger Room work-out. Today, that took the form of target practice. Goody was in the control booth, as usual. Scott and Billy stood back-to-back in a small, lit circle of the Danger Room, taking precise shots at small, flying targets zipping about in the dark. The morning's goal was to tag only the red-lit ones.

Billy appreciated the exercise. It let him focus, clear his mind. Concentrate on the questions he was probably going to ask Scott, as soon as he figured out how to word them. He'd kept his unease to himself for weeks; there had been so much else going on! And he kind of didn't want to talk to Scott without Goody. But he also kind of did. And this was a compromise.

It was equally therapeutic for Scott, though he doubted Billy knew that. The easy, straight-forward nature of it, and the easy physical pattern - sight, aim, trigger, sight, aim, trigger - were thoughtless and brought him out of his head.

He'd spent way too much time in there recently. Scott was honestly kind of sick of himself.

Besides, the warm-up also let him ignore that they were being watched. Observed. For all that Scott had no technical objections, it still internally could put him on edge.

But not right now. Sight, aim, trigger.

Billy flicked a small knife out into the shadows; silver met red, and the red winked out.

"Scott? What's more important when we're in the field? The mission or the team?"

Scott was silent for a moment, whether in thought or because he was still in the groove was not immediately clear. Finally, he said, "It depends." On the mission, on its goal.

That really wasn't what Billy had been hoping for; this sounded like it was going to be another complicated thing. But he'd kind of expected that. And at least he knew Scott wasn't just giving him some easy answer he thought he could handle.

"On what?" Billy pressed.

"On the mission, mostly. There are things I'm willing to die for, and things I'm not," Scott said. He could do some truly brutal math in his head, as Xavier at least (and possibly a couple others) knew; he was starting to suspect it's what had drawn Xavier to him and his tactics. They could both be distant like that. But that wasn't what mattered here, for purposes of training Billy. "But that's not a line I can draw for you - or for anyone else."

"I don't know about mine. I won't be leading for a long time." If ever. Another knife shot out; another light went dead. "Where's yours?"

Cyclops, and he was Cyclops now, not Scott, was thoughtful (even as he knocked down two targets, rapid-fire) for a moment. He wanted to speak accurately. "Where what the world stands to gain will outweigh what is lost. It's a high bar. A life is worth a lot."

He triggered his visor again, before adding - because Billy needed to learn and internalize it more than most - the caveat, "but even when I am in charge, that's not the end of the analysis. Your field leader can order you to do something, but you can still refuse. You're not a marine, you're a high school kid, and if someone orders you to do something that might kill you and you don't want to? Then don't. This isn't like that other place. We won't kill you or hurt your friend over insubordination." If Billy learned nothing else from his training with Cyclops, Scott hoped he learned critical thinking and that he had free will.

Up above, Goodnight Robicheaux took a drink from his flask, just so he didn't hit the intercom and tell Scott Summers to go fuck himself with a rusty saw right there and then. You're a high school kid his blindingly white backside. Wasn't any high school kid even needed to have this conversation--and it was galling as all hell. Billy deserved normal. He deserved to choose whether he wanted normal or not, he deserved to be protected like a normal kid for at least a few years. It wouldn't make up for all that'd been stolen from him, but at least he'd have an idea of what it was like.

That wouldn't ever happen here, though. As much as Goody told himself that they'd never be normal now, not anywhere and not ever, it still pissed him right off. How could Billy choose if he didn't even know what the choices were? Were they such lost causes at the ancient age of seventeen?

He leaned one hand on the glass and took another long swig, looking down with a frown on his face. Then he was still. Watching.

"I'm not a high school kid," Billy pointed out quietly. "I'm a killer that goes to high school. It's not... safe to pretend I'm anything else, is it? Because if I got told to do something by the Professor or you, I probably would let someone die to follow orders. Almost anyone."

"We are more than our pasts," Scott said. "You're not the average person, but you're a person. You get to make your own choices. That's why so many of our sessions focus on choices."

Scott triggered his visor, knocking down a target. "I've argued with Xavier before. I'm sure I will do it again." Likely over one of those missions that could get a person killed, truth be told. "You have the right to do it too."

Billy was quiet for over a minute, watching targets. "I don't think that's the problem," he said finally. "Not all of it." Quiet again, save for the sounds of combat. "I like it here. But having choices means leaving, doesn't it? Graduating. That kind of thing. It's big to think about."

"It can feel overwhelming, to have a lot of choices when you used to have none," Scott agreed, voice understanding even if his expression didn't much change. He'd kind of freaked out at first himself, when he had first arrived at the mansion, and it was only timing that had kept anyone but Xavier from seeing it.

"And you don't have to make all those choices now, whether to stay or go or that stuff. But I just meant...if you want to do X-Force, and you don't have to, that doesn't mean you have to be ready to leap in front of a bullet just because I, or anyone else, tells you to."

"Thanks." Billy laughed briefly, mostly at himself. He knew it was a small response to a heavy topic. But that was all he had sometimes. "Getting shot isn't on my to-do list."

Goodnight shook his head. The problem was, this was the blind leading the blind--and that wasn't a shot at the sunglasses, either. After a few slugs of whiskey and a deep breath, it became evident that Scott really was trying. Whether he was drinking the kool-aid or not, Scott's normal was clearly not normal. Maybe not anymore than Goody and Billy's. They didn't know his life, and if Tommy's story was as earnest as it seemed, it'd been a shitty one.

He bumped his head against the glass and closed his eyes. Then bumped it again. "Note to self: find Billy a friend who isn't a sociopath, so he can learn to pretend not to be a sociopath himself..."

"Yeah, it just doesn't sound fun," Scott agreed dryly. "So why all the questions? Not that you can't ask," he didn't want Billy to think he couldn't search out answers. But the inquisition had been a bit unusual.

"We met one of the other kids a while back. Tommy?" Billy projected another knife. "He... really doesn't like you. Like, he wouldn't work with you because he thinks you'd let him die if it served the mission." And Goody had seemed to believe him. "I like you. And I don't know him. So I wanted to know what you really thought."

Scott rolled his eyes behind his visor, and then shot a target. "He really doesn't like me, no. Glad to hear he is spreading the good word," he said dryly. It didn't exactly shock him that Tommy felt the need to talk shit about him - he had the self-control of a tired toddler - but it was mildly annoying.

Billy shrugged. "Doesn't change anything for me. We're still working together, right?"

"Of course, if you want to," Scott said, nodding.

The sound of Goody's head dully thumping off the glass above became evident.

Billy frowned at the commentary from above and turned back to Scott. "I guess that's enough of a warm-up. Want to get to work?"

Scott glanced up at the control booth. "Should we check Robicheaux for a head injury first?"

"Hey, Goody!" Billy called over his shoulder. "You OK?"

Goody held up one hand, but kept his forehead pressed to the glass and his eyes closed. "Thoroughly sound up here, thanks." As sound as a sociopath surrounded by sociopaths and trying to keep my favorite sociopath from getting thrown in prison someday can be. He reached into his jacket pocket for his flask again.

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Goodnight tries to share his concerns with Billy, but Billy can't grasp the extent of his worry.

A successful Danger Room session usually left Billy sweaty, worked up, and exhilarated. But this time, it only lasted until he remembered that Goodnight was watching in the control booth, and probably unhappy with him still. He took his time in his cool-downs with Scott, then approached the booth with a knot in his gut.

"Hey." He offered Goodnight a faint smile that he didn't really feel. "Thanks for waiting. Ready?"

Goody, mostly recovered from his helpless headbanging, nodded. "Sure thing. You hungry?

He should have been, after a workout like that. But there didn't seem to be room for anything in his stomach right now but worry.

"Nah." Billy couldn't quite meet Goody's eyes. "I'll get cleaned up, then maybe we can get breakfast?"

Goody nodded again as he started toward the door. "Don't look so hangdog. You won. And got some answers."

"Yeah." Billy clenched and unclenched his fists as they walked. "You're not happy about it, though," he said finally.

With a shrug of one shoulder, Goody admitted, "No, but not because you asked. What'd you think of the answers?"

"I think they made sense," Billy said. "And I trust Scott isn't going to get me killed for nothing. So I'm feeling better about it all." More certain in his own judgment of Scott, if nothing else.

"Fair enough, then." Goody wasn't going to argue with that assessment, at least. "And for what it's worth, I agree: I don't think he'd get you killed for nothing."

"But you're still angry with him." Billy pointed out. "And I don't understand why."

"I ain't angry, exactly." Goody took a deep breath, then shook his head. "Can we head outside for a second first? I need to clear my head, and I do want to talk about this. Just--gotta figure out how to communicate my concerns. About Scott. Both as a human being and as a kind of mentor..." That last sentence was more muttered under his breath. He needed a cigarette.

"Yeah. OK." Billy fell silent as they headed out into the dawn and settled themselves in their usual spot by the lake. He propped himself up against the trunk of the oak tree, rigid and uneasy in a way he almost never was around Goodnight.

The walk settled Goody's mind, though Billy's body language didn't much help. It was a necessary discomfort for the moment, though, and Goody reckoned he'd be better at alleviating it after he had his mind right--and on nicotine. He lit the first of what he assumed would be several, and then said, "It might seem like I don't like Scott, but that ain't it. I think Scott's a lot like you and me--and Pam and Tommy and all the others whose childhoods been stolen away by some fucker with no soul. He wasn't a Facility experiment, but I get the feeling he was... someone's experiment. Of a different kind. Just going on everything Tommy told us and my own ever-so-clever observations."

Billy was quiet for a little while. "You seemed really quick to believe Tommy once he started talking," he said finally. "Even though he doesn't like Scott at all. Or the 'inner circle'," he added, with a slight curl of his lip.

"I can't see no reason he'd lie--just every reason he'd exaggerate. He came to us to see us settled in, out of concern; he only ended up talking trash because I asked him to." Goody leaned against the tree and took his first, long puff. There it was, that quick rush that made him want to jump up and sink down into the ground all at once. He sighed happily. "I do take it with a grain of salt, but Scott's personality in sum speaks to a lot of what Tommy said, if you think about it. Explains why he does and thinks... how he does. Because he's like us."

"Why is that a problem for you? A lot of the kids here are like us. And Scott helped get us away from the facility."

"It's only a problem in that... It's not, exactly." Goody blew out more smoke and shook his head. "I just wish you had someone more normal to learn things from, too. They's plenty of them around... probably."

"Not that many," Billy said, his attention out on the dark lake. "And I'm never going to be normal anyway. And I don't need to be while we're here."

"I don't want you to be anything you ain't. Not ever." Goody frowned, watching the lake intently, as if he expected Nessie to emerge at any moment. "But there will always be times we can't be here. Someday, we gotta find gainful employment, live in the world. Even now, we need to go shopping, have dinner, see a movie, visit a museum. And the things we been programmed to do" --Billy's entire programming, in fact, though it didn't seem necessary to point that out just then-- "ain't gonna fly.

"Neither of us will be normal. But we gotta be able to fake it to survive." And surrounding himself with other goddamn sociopaths wasn't going to improve Billy's survivability chances, which was what killed Goodnight about all of it. "Not to mention it'd be nice if you got to have a few low-stress, enjoyable, actual childhood experiences now you're free."

Billy sighed, but relaxed enough to lean against Goodnight. This was normal, so far as he was concerned. Being able to relax with Goody without a care or barrier between them. Everything else was much lower down on the priority list.

"I'm not much of a child either. Dr. McCoy thinks we're about the same age." He sighed quietly. "What if I can't live out in the world? What if I always need a place like this or the prison?"

"Then we deal with it when it happens," Goody said firmly, leaning in heavily, too. "But until then, I'd like to work toward keeping options open. It's a big world, and you deserve whatever you want from it.

"And if no one ever showed you what it's like to be carefree and have fun, if no one ever demonstrated how to exist out there without drawing bad attention, then your options get limited. I ain't letting that happen without a fight."

"I don't need anyone except you for that, Goody." Goody's hands were going to be occupied with a cigarette before long, so Billy squeezed his knee instead. "You don't need to worry so much."

"I probably don't have to..." Goody smiled around his cigarette before removing it from his mouth. "But you're my responsibility as much as I'm yours, and they's no point denying it." Wasn't the healthiest relationship, but, well, at least they weren't alone in it around here. Alex and Pam were at least as fucked. And shameless. "And I want you to have your pick of the world. Even the bits you ain't seen yet."

"I wouldn't mind seeing more of the world," Billy admitted. "But if I have to pick of it, I pick you. So that's settled."

"That's a given," Goody managed. But he was flushed, warm with that feeling that he was pretending not to understand, nowadays, more than actually not understanding. "And you'll have it. But you can have everything else, with me. Together.

"Anyhow, I do believe you can live anywhere you damn well please--and learn how right quick, given a useful example to study." And Scott Summers... had his uses, sure, but he wasn't exactly a shining example of functionality.

"Maybe. I mean... there hasn't been any trouble the times we've been out of the school." Billy settled more comfortably against Goodnight. "It'll be OK, Goody. Like I said, you don't need to worry so much."

He did, though. Billy didn't have a basis for comparison, with just a few trips into town to show him how things happened in social settings not littered with the detritus of mutant experiments. Goody did, though he'd always been acting in them, god knew, and couldn't count himself much of a real help. Another long drag, and Goodnight said, "Well, we should at least try and find some normal people to befriend. I know you'll get what you need from Summers; I just wish we knew more sane folk."

Billy nudged him. "There's 'Ro and Hana." And... well, all right, that was everyone who came to mind. "I don't think there's a lot of sanity to spare around here, Goody."

"That's true. You should spend more time with them." And less with Summers, was the bit he didn't say. It wasn't exactly fair. Goody was glad Billy had friends like Pam, who got him. And the Good Lord knew he'd cut anyone who suggested he should cut down on his own Billy time.

"It's good talking with Hana. I don't have to think about how I talk so much when we're both speaking Korean. But I still have to be careful what I say, or I make her feel bad for what happened to me." Billy shrugged. "She's going to visit over the summer. To Busan, I mean. She said we can come with her, if we want to. But I'm not sure that's the kind of normal you're talking about."

"Could be." Goody considered his cigarette and the proposition seriously. "We'd need passports and papers and all that, is the only thing. Maybe Xavier has connections could help us with that. Might be nice for you to see Korea--even if it probably ain't your Korea. Lord knows I'd love to, if she wouldn't mind me tagging along."

"What did we just say? 'Together', right? I'm not seeing the world without you in it. But I'll let Hana know."

Ughhhhh there it was, that sick-sweet feeling of elation Billy had the worst habit of stirring in him. Goody nodded and grunted something, trying to regain his mental and emotional footing. It took long moments, which he covered by taking a long inhale and enjoying it immensely--or trying to, anyhow. Then he finally managed, "Let her know I'm obliged for the invitation. You don't have to let her know I'm obliged for giving you a normal friend to look to for normal things. That'd be weird."