Title: Crying on the inside
Distribution: Want. Take. Have. But let me know, so I know
where it ends up.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Marvel's.
Classification: Much Angst, connotations of stuff that I don't
want to mention for sake of the story. But there is other people mooking
and being slashy and stuff, but since the main focus of the story
is seriously dark Angst, these don't really impinge on the story.
Summary: Bobby Angsts. And thinks bad stuff. And Angsts. And
then Angsts some more.
Feedback: to email@example.com
Notes: This is the first fic I have finished in ages. Over
a year at least. There is Much dark Angst and it hasn't been beta'd
yet, but I really wanted to get it out before I forgot about it. I
think it's ok, spelling and grammar are both good, but then, I do
study English so I'd hope they were. It's also pretty short. Oh, and
if people tell me they like it, I'll write the other stories in this
timeline. This story actually comes somewhere in the middle, but it
works as a standalone. But, for ease of reading, Gen X moved in with
the X-men when their mansion got totalled. Nate Grey moved in to get
a better feel for his family after spending so long alone (both post
#75 cull) and Gambit and Courier are mooking around the world and
generally carrying on as they were in Gambit.
Crying on the Inside
As I sit here, I'm crying. You'd never know to look at me, since
technically, I'm sat on a sofa with Jubilee, introducing her and Nate
Grey to the wonders of Blackadder, Red Dwarf and Absolutely Fabulous,
with the assistance of Betsy, Jono and Kitty. I'm laughing my head
off in all the right places, and providing a running commentary with
Jono. To look at me, you would never know that I'm a bigger angst
pit than the Summers tribe, Mr Starsmore and a random selection of
10 other X-men put together, but that's because I'm better at hiding
it than them. And to look at me, you would see no reason to think
that I'm suicidally depressed. I'm 23, intelligent, attractive, and
athletic. I've travelled the world around, and I've saved the lives
of more people than I could count, even if you don't include the ones
from different galaxies. I stand up and fight for what I believe in,
with my friends that I've known since I was 14. All this should really
add up to a pretty positive self-image. But no, I am such a Black
Pit of Angst; I should be the third Summers brother. And I can hide
it all from Betsy, Jean and The Prof.
I've been thinking about it for a while now, when I feel numb enough
to deal with it, and I think I've realised, or at least rationalised
why I feel like this. It, I think, comes from, to start off with,
being the baby of the first team. I hadn't got much control or knowledge
of my powers, and I had to fight to keep up. While Warren was flitting
around being suave and sophisticated, Hank was getting his first Nobel
award, Scott was being team-leader and official "oh- my-god, -I-can-never-ask-out-Jean-even-though-it's-painfully-obvious-
before-I-did" class A dickhead and negative black hole of angst and
Jean was doing the same, but from the other side, I was getting better
and better at hiding myself behind jokes. I was the one in the background,
occasionally making a witty comment and saving lives, occasionally
without property damage too. So I was class clown and baby to the
first team, even though the age gap between Scotty and me was only
4 years. Then the next lot joined. And somehow I was relegated again.
On and on this went, Every time someone new joined, my place as bottom-of-the-ladder,
when-the-villain-of-the-month-has-destroyed-the-generators was reinforced.
Thing is, I'm actually pretty powerful. I have always known that.
I have known for a long time that I could invoke the next ice age;
make the world into a snowball. That's why I never pushed myself.
Phoenix is the full extent of Jean's powers. When Emma Frost mind-raped
me, that wasn't the full extent of mine. That was just another step,
one I didn't want to take. Next time, perhaps, I'll go further. I
could survive in an Ice Age. Perhaps I'll create one.
It'd be fun, all pristine and white, nothing but glaciers for miles,
Ice covering the planet. And I could do it. The only people who could
stop me live in this house. I could freeze them to death as they slept.
Freeze the blood in their veins so they just died right there. Magneto
makes this big show out of how he controls even the very iron in our
blood. Well, the human body is 8 pints water and perhaps a few grams,
including fillings, metal. I could do so much more damage.
With barely a thought, I could kill. I should have gone evil. So
many more opportunities for me to use my powers, because "X-men don't
kill" (except planets (Jean), anyone she touches (Rogue), Marrow (Storm),
anyone he feels like (Wolverine), Morlocks (Gambit) or anyone who
happens to be in the vicinity when we tangle with evil-of- the-week).
Ice is pretty destructive stuff, in a combat situation. And I never
get to be creatively violent.
So I think that's part of it. My best friends constantly undervalue
me. I've saved their lives more often than I care to remember, and
I'm still just Bobby, team clown and most junior member, even though
I was the second X-man. Even Jubilee has a higher position on this
team than I do. Another part of it could be the fact that I'm the
most normal of the X-men, and therefore I have to make it up by doing
something like this. I know it's irrational. Knowing that doesn't
And the third and final part? The third and final part is so huge,
that I DO NOT THINK ABOUT IT. Ever. When I was growing up, it wasn't
the looming threat of mutants that was the problem, (even though the
mutant `threat' was tiny back then and Graydon Creed was barely a
twinkle in his parent's eyes) it was THEM. My father was never a particularly
pleasant man to people who went against the grain, but they took the
biscuit. Some days, I got the impression that my father would rather
sit down for dinner with a fully armed Sinister, Onslaught and Magneto
and all their flunkies and henchmen than one of THEM. So when I turned
out to be one of them, when I finally admitted it to myself, you can
imagine what it did to my already fragile, inferiority-complex ridden
psyche. It's a wonder I'm still breathing.
And I know that all my panic about being one of them is completely
unfounded. I'm good friends with several of them. Take, for example,
the pair in this room. They are both a great laugh, when they're not
being twin black holes of despair (that's happening less too, especially
since they came out together. Jean loves it. She practically melts
every time she sees them. I suppose that, since Jean likes it, then
it must be good. And if Jean likes it and it's good, then it must
be ok for me to be it too? No. At any given second I can come up with
any number of reasons why it's not ok for me to be it. Even when the
pair on the sofa are looking so cute and in love that Jubilee is complaining
of sugarshock and even Betsy smiles, it's still not ok for me to be
happy like that. Even when Rictor and Shatterstar mook their way through
an entire battle and Gambit gets an ear bashing from Courier and still
smiles, it's not ok for me to be one of them. I… just can't. As much
as I think it'd be good for me, I can't admit it. Maybe in the future,
I'll be able to come to terms with the fact that I am one of them,
but right now, I think I'm gonna stock up on long sleeved t-shirts.
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