Chapter Two
Dance on Glass
"Screaming in the darkness torn and ragged
For the love of god, my dreams look dim"
-the Sisters of Mercy
At first I could only stare, my attention riveted by a pair of cornflower blue eyes. Her eyes.
Nononononono, I thought. This cannot be 'appening. But it was. It was Paige alright, standin' at the doorway with a clear view of a rather incriminatin' scene.
"This is a bad time?" Warren asked. I wanted t'smash his face in right about then.
"Ya think?" Jubilee cracked, smirking.
Bobby, as usual, wasn't doin' anything t'improve the situation. Bloody twit was just standing there, stammering.
"This isn't-I mean-"
Oh yeah. Way t'allay their suspicions, Drake! Plonker.
"I just wanted to tell you that Paige and Jubilee are here," Warren went on, speakin' to Bobby as though I weren't standin' a few feet away practically starkers, "and we need to have a meeting ASAP."
Warren's eyes flicked over Drake's shoulder t'look at me then. There was a mildly contemptible look in em, as if he'd maybe caught a whiff of somethin' ill-smelling.
I've gotten that look before, and seein' it in the eyes of a rich pretty boy like that was nigh intolerable. Suddenly, I didn't care that Paige was standing there, didn't care that she and th'rest of em were getting' a much more intimate look at me than I'd like, didn't care even if they knew wot Drake and I 'ad been up to minutes before.
There was Angel, fresh from 'eaven and interrupting a bloody private moment with his holier-than-thou attitude… and it made me furious.
"They have some very interesting news regarding-"
I strode forward and shoved Drake outta the way so I could get in Warren's face. *It couldn't wait five bleedin' minutes?* I asked, cutting the bugger off mid-sentence. *Worthington, you wanker.*
Warren looked pissed at that. "Look, this is X business and-"
Roit, I thought. That's it.
I took a step forward, barely keepin' me desire t'pop him one in check. *Shutcher gob, Worthington. We'll meet you in the briefin' room in fifteen minutes loik civilized bloody people but roit now th'lot of yer are goin' ter NAFF OFF!*
Relished the shocked look on Worthington's face, but since I didn't want things t'come to blows I turned on me heel and marched back inter the loo, slamming the door shut behind me.
Robert was backed up against the sink counter, eyes eatin' up his face and mouth 'anging open. He looked like a fish.
*Wot?* I asked.
He blinked, and with this daffy grin spreadin' over 'is face he replied in a softly awed voice, "Punk rock," and giggled.
Oh fer… Lookin' at that great big bloody idiot, I felt a surge of affection for 'im which served t'smother the last of my already dwindling anger. I relaxed a little and ran a hand through me 'air. *Plonkers. Remind me ter cause Warren serious bodily injury.*
"I'll put it on a post-it note for you," Bobby said.
*Good,* I replied and looked at me feet. Wot a mess. Paige, of all people, appearin' out of the blue like that. And while the rest of the bleedin' mansion might know about Robert and me, this was different, because Paige was… Paige. Ah, bloody 'ell.
Bobby moved forward and punched me on the shoulder, jolting me out of me reverie. "I don't think Warren will be teasing you anytime in the near future," 'e said with a smile before proceeding to do the worst British accent in the 'istory of man, "'Lest ya lob' 'is bleeding 'ead off!"
It was bad. I mean, bloody awful. So I 'ad t'smile. *You sound like Dick Van Dyke,* I told 'im.
'E leaned forward an' kissed me between the eyebrows. "I'm working on that one. Come on, let's get dressed."
Proceeded ter do so, Bobby waitin' by the door as I got me boots back on. "Are you gonna be okay?" he asked, cockin' an eyebrow as 'e spoke.
Decided I couldn't really answer that as I didn't know meself, so I just shrugged and started down the hall. Once we got close ter the briefing room we could 'ear voices. Sounded like Warren was lecturing, an' I could 'ear Paige in there as well.
Just the sound of 'er voice made wot's left of me guts tangle up. Then all of a sudden Stacy's voice cuts through the air, "Oh, they're bum-buddies for Chrissake. What's the big deal?"
I stopped walking abruptly, and Robert crashed right inter me and almost knocked us over. Paralysed, I could only think that I wanted ter get the fuck outta there and not 'ave t'face any of them.
It's not that I was ashamed, exactly, just… mildly mortified.
Robert apparently 'ad no such worries because 'e slipped around me and waltzed inter the Briefing Room.
"Hey guys, sorry for the wait," he said.
Get a grip, Starsmore, I thought t'meself. Yer not gointer nancy out now.
"So what's so important you had to drop in on a Wednesday night without a hello or a cup of coffee, eh?" Bobby was saying as I sauntered in. Made sure not ter walk like a fugitive or something. Stood close t'the door though. Just in case.
"As you know," Warren started, "Paige and Jubilee have been overseas as of late. They were in the UK and came across something they thought might be worth checking out."
"Don't keep me in suspense," Bobby said. Bloody 'ell, how can 'e stay so cheerful sounding?
Jubilee smiled. Cor, kinda missed that little brat. "Mutants are totally 'in' over there, as ya already know" she said. "So at first we didn't think nothin' of it."
"Nothing of what?" Stacy interrupted.
"I'm getting' to that," Jubes replies in this annoyed 'don't rush me' sorta tone. "Okay, so Guthrie and I were kinda chillin' a little - not really up to the whole savin' the world thing after Paris, yanno? - and we started hearin' all this stuff about this singer guy. This mutant singer guy."
"His name is Aleister Ashbury," Paige went on. "Prior to this he was a mutants rights activist. His whole slant is that mutants have been kept from the performing arts for fear of their secret being exposed, and that he is going to be the pioneer that clears the way for others."
Couldn't 'elp but notice her accent is almost entirely gone now. Pity, that.
"Nothing unusual about that, at least not lately," Kurt commented. "Mutants sell, ja?"
"Yeah," Jubilee said. "That's what we said. I mean, saw the guy a few times on some magazine covers and he's pretty cute, but probably the flavour of the month, yanno?"
Jubilee at this point cast a very deliberate glance at me. Bugger. I was sort of 'oping she was gointer let me forget about my ugly mug bein' splashed all over London's tabloids.
"The reason we came here," Paige said, "is that we started hearing weird rumours about his concerts."
"Weird like how?" Bobby asked.
"Like people going to them and never coming back," Jubilee said. He nodded slowly.
"What's even more disturbing is that there seems to be a strangely high suicide rate among people who attend the concerts," Paige added. "It's like these kids go to the concert, have a blast, and come home and swallow a bullet."
"Naturally the cops aren't doing anything," Jubilee said an' stretched. "I mean, what can they do? There's no evidence. Just lots of dead kids. Dead human kids anyway. Not one of 'em has had the X-Factor so far."
"So you think we're dealing with another homo-superior supremacist?" Warren asked. Paige and Jubes nodded and Bobby let out a theatrical groan.
"Another one?" 'E said. "Oh, man. Can't these guys just go to group therapy or something? 'Hello, my name is Magneto and I'm a mutant neo-nazi.' 'Hi, Magneto!'"
Oh Jesus. That's a bad one. Warren glared at him.
"Our problem is that he's practically untouchable," Paige said with a sigh. "Except at concerts and interviews and whatnot, he has no contact with the public."
"Celebrities," Jubes said and shook 'er head. "We figure the only hope we have of finding out what's going on is to get somebody on the inside."
Stacy crossed 'er legs and grinned hugely. "Colour me a groupie," she said, an' laughed. Certainly can look the part.
"That's not a bad idea," Bobby said. 'E had the 'lightbulb-over-the-ead' look. Warren arched an eyebrow at 'im in question. "No, seriously. Ignoring this whole secret agenda thing, the guy is still a musician. And what are the three things sacred to a musician?"
Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll, o'course.
"Sex, drugs and rock'n'roll!" Jubilee and Stacy shouted in unison. Warren rolled his eyes.
"Warren," Kurt said thoughtfully. "Due to your dealings with Vanisher's people, you might be able to get a contact there." His sharp white teeth flashed in a smile. "Vith Miss X's help, that would cover two out of three, ja?"
"We can do better than that, even," Jubilee said. "Three for three."
Wot's she on about now then? I wondered.
"How's that?" Bobby asked.
Jubilee grinned and pointed directly at me. "Him," she said, the word like a shot through me non-existent heart.
Everybody else just stared. Can't blame 'em. Warren started ter say something and Jubilee 'eld up a hand.
"Hear me out, here. Word is that Ashbury wants ta start his own label - a la Trent Reznor or something - meaning he'll be looking for new talent to tour with him before signing em on. New mutant talent as a matter of fact. Now, I dunno if he's given it up since becoming a big bad X-Man, but Starsmore there used ta play a mean guitar and he's pretty obviously a mutant."
Oh, we are NOT having this conversation.
Kurt, whom I'd been counting on to see reason and say it was a bloody STUPID idea, looked thoughtful. "One with previous coverage in the media, no less," he said slowly. "Vhat is it they say… 'any publicity is good publicity'?"
WOT?
Jubilee grinned. "Bingo. So we convince this guy that Jono is the new face - heh - of mutant rock and roll. We also let hints drop that Jono's all for mutant superiority."
"We could use the mess with Sugar Kane," Warren muttered, pacing a little. I felt the burning urge t'separate 'is wings form his body. "Fuel for his anti-human sentiments. Hm. How much would this cost to fund…?"
Warren and Kurt leaned close together fer a second, muttering over the details.
As for meself, I would 'ave stormed out if I hadn't been immobile with fury. Fer one thing, they were all talking about me like I wasn't even there and as someone who is routinely ignored in public places fer being an obvious mutant that is MOST aggravating. Secondly, wot they were thinking of was just… not going ter 'appen. A twisted granting of one of me oldest dreams…? No. I've been through enough, thanks.
"Hey, guys, hold up," Bobby said. Barely noticed 'im.
*I won't do it,* I stated.
Everyone stopped their bloody blathering and turned to look at me. Good.
"Chamber," Kurt started, "while this is not guaranteed to work, it significantly ups the odds of getting someone close to Ashbury and-"
*No.* I genuinely like Kurt, but there was no way I was planning ter let 'im talk me inter this madness.
"Oh come on, it's a GOOD plan!" Jubilee said. She looked about ready ter throw a tantrum.
*So get someone else ter do it.*
"There is nobody else!" She said, and marched over t'look up at me. I half expected 'er t'jam a finger in my chest fer emphasis. "You're the only frickin' frackin' X-Man who knows his ass from an amp!"
*Tough. Besides, there's one major flaw in yer plan there, gel.* I made sure t'project as cold a tone as possible, hoping she'd just drop it.
"Which is?"
*It's a rock label, innit? An' in rock bands, who is it that gets all the attention?*
"The singer," Stacy answered quietly. Glad ter see somebody in the room 'ad some sense. I waved a hand ter acknowledge her reply before continuing.
*Me guitar skills are not so impressive as ter be the second coming of Hendrix. And I cannot sing.*
Not anymore, anyway. Not really.
Everyone looked more or less convinced and I was startin' ter relax when Robert opened 'is big mouth and said, "That's not true."
Bastard. I glared at him, willing 'im ter shut up. I knew exactly wot 'e was thinking of, and it wasn't fair that he share that with anyone else because it was sort of secret. Between us, yer know? Betraying that sort of trust is unforgivable.
Kurt broke the silence. "Vas is it, Robert?"
Robert shifted and I again willed him to just shut up and leave it alone. "Jono can sing," he said instead.
Stacy's eyebrow lifted in disbelief. "Without vocal chords?"
"Well, yeah," 'e said. "It's just like how he talks. He sings in your mind. It's not like hearing a song, either. I mean… okay. Take the best song you ever heard, the most emotionally charged. Now imagine it in concert, but instead of just hearing it you feel exactly what the singer feels as he sings it."
I started a little. Izzat wot it feels like, then?
"It's like that," Bobby went on. "Emotional surround-sound."
Paige looked at me, her gaze confused and hurt. "And you've heard this?" she asked Bobby, not taking 'er eyes off of me. I
"Well, yeah," Bobby said like it wasn't really a big deal. "Well, not heard, but… you know."
"When?" Page asked. 'Er voice was soft and I wanted desperately for the conversation t'be over.
*That's not important,*I said in a near panic. *Still not goin' ter work. I can't be recorded, regardless.*
"That might not be a problem," Stacy said. She sounded like she was sorry. "I mean, this guy's big thing is concerts, right? Couldn't you just, you know, project real loud?"
Jubilee nodded. "Yeah! I mean, it's just to get close to the guy. Heck, if Drake's not exaggeratin' then it's even better this way because it'll be something nobody but a mutant could do." She got all serious then - a rare thing indeed. "Whaddya say, Jono? Think you can do it?"
Really, wot could I say? That I didn't want to? And besides, looking at Jubilee I was reminded of Everett, who was killed before 'is life ever really got proper started. Those kids she'd been talkin' about shared the same fate, and that's just bloody wrong.
So I said, *Yeah,* even though it felt like I was dying on the inside.
Jubilee grabbed one of me hands and squeezed it. Gratitude radiated off her like body-heat. "Thanks," she said.
*Yeah, yeah.*
Got to sit back after that and let the leader-types hash out the specifics. Honestly, I was barely payin' attention. I kept looking at Paige, who spent most o'the meeting looking at 'er hands, which were folded tightly together. I wanted to taker 'er aside and try to explain. Explain wot, exactly? I didn't know then, and I don't know now. Maybe that things 'ad been different between us, that I'd been very messed up and that… bloody hell, I don't know. Maybe I just wanted to tell her to stop makin' me feel so guilty.
The meeting ended when it was decided we'd fly to the UK the following day after Kurt 'ad called ahead and set up things with some old contacts of 'is. We left the briefing room and I started off down the hall without looking back. Vaguely, I registered Jubilee complaining about bein' hungry and Stacy saying something to Warren. Didn't care.
Went to me room and pulled a suitcase out from under the bed. Didn't bother t'turn any lights on since I know the layout of me own bedroom pretty well and was in no mood for illumination of any kind just then. Been too much light shed on things that evening, in my opinion.
Opened the closet and just stared blankly as my eyes adjusted. I could remember, all too clearly, a time when I'd done much the same thing. Wot t'wear t'the gig tonight?
Damn memory. I could hear me mates in the next room, Sasha's witchlike cackle cutting through the drone of voices. I could smell cigarettes, spilt lager and stale sex. Oh yeah, I'd thought I was goin' ter have it all.
An almost tentative voice jolted me out of me reverie. "Packing?"
Bobby. I turned m'head to look at 'im and in that moment I hated him so exquisitely it was divine.
*You had no right,* I told 'im, words dropping like stones.
He walked inter me room uninvited, hands turned up like 'e was calling fer a truce. "Maybe not. But you know as well as I do that we have responsibilities, and we can't run away from them just because of personal issues."
*So now I get to play at being a rockstar,*I replied, and laughed. Oh, I've never heard anything less funny in me whole life and it felt more like bleeding than laughing. *So wot should I pack then, eh?* I waved an arm at the closet. *Gorra look the part at least.*
Bobby took a step closer. "Well," he said. "I like you in leather."
I raised an eyebrow at that and he smiled. *Yer mean yer like peeling me outta it,* I said. He didn't reply, probably because that was exactly true.
I could remember someone else's hand gliding up my thigh, clad in worn leather, and felt a vertigo that wrenched at the core of me. All those fevered hopes and dreams, not laid to rest after all. Oh god, I wanted what had been lost but it would never be the same again.
So, in desperation, I groped for the present.
I turned away from the closet and moved legs that felt like steel poles until I was close enough ter grab Bobby's belt loops and pull 'im against me. I kept me eyes fixed on his - searching for something, I don't know wot, in those strangely innocent blue depths.
"Jono," he started, and I shut 'im up by squeezing his crotch gently with one 'and.
I hated them all right then, because it was as if they'd taken something sacred t'me and twisted it fer their own purposes. I felt raped, frankly, and decided there was only one way t'ignore the sensation, or at least t'feel it properly.
*Fuck me.*
Bobby stared. "Uh," he said at last. I could feel his emotions at the edge of my perception - confusion warring with want. I felt like crying.
Instead I let go of him and stepped away so I could pull me sweater off and toss it aside like a dead skin. Why not? He'd already seen everything there was t'see, and besides that, I felt feverish. I wanted t'tear the flesh from me body, and this was the next best thing.
I pressed against 'im, fingers tangling in 'is hair as I scraped wot's left of one cheek down the side of 'is face. At the same time I reached out with mental 'ands in the hopes of igniting the same sort of raw animal lust he'd displayed earlier in the shower. I felt used - I wanted 'im ter take me like a cheap whore.
"Jono," he said instead, and pushed me away. "I'm not sure if this is, you know, if this is a great idea."
No, probably not, because I'd resent 'im for it later even though it was all my idea. I dropped me hands t'me sides and looked away, trying not to break down. It wasn't Bobby's fault - I knew that. And I felt I owed him some sort of explanation, because 'e was standing there with 'is stupid face hanging out in concern.
*Do you have… any idea… wot it's like t'have the one thing you wanted most taken away from you?* I finally asked. *And then, just when yer think you've finally gotten over it, just when you start t'bury dreams that 'ave died… It's offered t'yer once again. Only this time, it's not the same.* I could feel my dried out, pathetic body wanting t'weep and I scrubbed a hand over the remains of me face. *Not the same.*
I moved past 'im and sat on the bed, starin' at the floor without really seein' it. Robert joined me after a moment and put an arm around me. I felt sick, and was glad in a remote way that 'e was there. "Jono," he said, 'is voice thick barely audible. 'E cleared 'is throat. "Jono, hey. It's gonna be alright."
I could 'ardly believe he'd uttered such a blatant lie. I turned t'look at 'im, utterly floored. *Awlroit?* I practically choked on the thought. *It's goin' ter… Gordon Bennet!* I fell backwards, mind reeling. I lay there, one hand over me eyes, waiting to pass out or die or somethin' and when neither 'appened I moved me hand and looked up at the fantastically absurd creature that is Robert Drake.
'Alright.' Can you believe it?
*Robert, you are by far the most ridiculous person I've ever met in me life,* I told 'im, and I meant it. Wot I couldn't say was that at that moment I loved him for it.
Bloody twit smiled and shrugged. "I get that a lot."
*Lay down. Please.* I didn't want to 'ave t'beg him, but I would 'ave. I needed him beside me.
But then, Bobby's not the type ter make me beg fer anything. Thought probably never even crossed 'is mind. 'E lay down. "Maybe we should move so we're laying the right way, here…" he said.
I rolled onto me side and pressed against 'im, one arms reaching across 'is stomach to hold 'im. I couldn't risk him moving away. Buried me face against 'is shoulder and shut me eyes against everything like a little kid.
"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked quietly.
*No.*
'E was content with that, and I was grateful. I would do wot I 'ad ter do, but the less I could think about it the better.