After The Fall

Jono's energy still got a bit twitchy about being around the Queen. It wasn't that her Majesty wasn't a lovely woman. She was entirely lovely. But she was also the bloody queen and all the manners his parents pounded into his skull when he was a sprog came rushing back and make him fumbly and nervous. He was not the nervous sort and quite honestly, he didn't like being nervous.

That said, she was a lovely person and she was from his world and he didn't want to avoid her. He was certain the butterflies would wear off eventually. He utterly blamed his parents' influence and his training than Wanda herself. Wasn't her fault all the bowing and scraping was expected. Since she didn't expect or likely even like it.

That said, there was still respect. "Hallo, your Majesty," he greeted her. "Fancy a stroll?" It wasn't suffocatingly hot just yet that day.

It hadn't taken her very long to decide that she liked this place. It was big and full of places to hide. They were lots of book, though she couldn't read hardly any of them. Even the ones that had pictures weren't the sorta pictures that made much sense to her. Paige was still dragging a few of them around, though. The bigger, the better. They could come with her. If she couldn't read them, someone else could read them to her. She'd find someone. There were lots of people here. Family and not family. Kids and grown ups, too. There were lotsa people around to read to her.

All she needed to do was find one of them.

Hefting a giant book in her arms, Paige started off down the hall.

Who: XG!Jono and GA!Jono
Where: Random hallway
When: Whenever Paige kicks XG!Jono out to hang out with Jay
What: The meeting of the Jonos. Don't worry, no explosions. ;)
Notes: Dee refuses to thread with herself. So you get a summary. Also, there is no way Betsy and possibly Sage missed the energy levels when these two met. XG!Jono apologizes for the headache, GA!Jono says join the fucking club.

( Cut for long and possibly rambly )

After their little fiasco in Germany (and fucking hell, what was Wagner thinking?), Jono was actually right glad to be back on their little deserted island. Which was sadly how he'd begun to thing of Genosha. Which was right fucking daft, considering it was the capitol of the bloody world in his dimension.

But currently, his mind wasn't on Genosha or Wagner getting shot. He was looking for 'Yana. And when he found her, the whole fucking world could fuck itself for a few hours. Perhaps longer.

Jono'd been waiting for her in the garden when she arrived, but it was pouring bloody cats and dogs. And he'd have to dealt with Agent Darkhoelme likely wanting a report about what happened in Germany, what little bloody he knew of it. Bloody debriefing could wait.

He didn't bother to knock on her door, just stepped into the doorway, holding a large bag in one hand. He'd happily indulged in his fashion sense, which was pretty normal from what he'd seen abroad. The synthetic leathers they had now were almost bloody impossible to tell from the real thing. He had on a black leather jacket, black leather pants and leather boots to match. A lit cigarette dangled from his lips as he took her in for the first time in a month.

"Fuck me, lovely," he drawled. "It's good to see you." Not wanting to get more sentimental, no matter how much he'd enjoy her thumping him for it, he hastily added. "I've some pressies for you."

Kurt followed along quietly, hands tucked into his pockets against the chill as Jono made a bee-line for a shop where he could pick up more of the cancer sticks he so loved. Didn't much matter since he didn't have lungs, of course, but God he hated the stench of them. Still, couldn't begrudge a man a few vices, especially not when he couldn't drink, and besides....

"Think I'll duck into one of the other shops for a few while you grab those," he informed the other man casually, glad the inducer wasn't advanced enough to translate the way his face was heating into a blush that would be visible on his artificially pale, furless skin.

They were grown men in the middle of the city and in a not terribly unsafe part of town, and they'd still be close enough to provide backup if it was, by some miracle, needed. Being apart for a half hour or so shouldn't be tragic...and he sure as hell didn't want company picking up the presents he'd promised Billy.


"Meet back out in the square in a bit?" he suggested.

Fucking London. Wasn't his London. Even the world he'd come from, which had had a decade of King Magnus' support for scientific research and massive technological advances (like the one strapped around his chest) wasn't this high tech.

Yet somehow, London had managed to keep some of the old blended in with the new. Big Ben was still there. So was Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London. Buildings that had stood for centuries and would stand for centuries more. No matter how many times the city burned.

London was a tough old gel, and time and such wasn't likely to bring her to her knees ever.

Jono was standing out on the balcony of the suite he was sharing with one of the Nightcrawlers, Alex Summers (this one wasn't an utter prat like the one in the Red Guard) and Betsy Braddock, having himself a fag. They still had tar filled, tobacco laden cigarettes in this plastic and clean future. It was bloody fabulous to smoke again, no matter if it didn't do a bloody thing for him.

He leaned on the balcony railing, blowing smoke out into the smoggy London night. He was watching the light on the huge stonking ugly ferris wheel somebody had built. Apparently, it'd been around for a few centuries. Thank God, they hadn't felt the need to build such a horrible thing in his London.

Jono was bored. This was rather dangerous really. But he'd been a good busy boy, following all of Nightcrawler's suggestions and generally being helpful.

But now he just wanted something to bloody well do that didn't involve digging through piles of rubble or trying not to get set on fire by Rusty during his lessons.

So he was searching around for someone to bother. Besides 'Yana, because he was trying to let her decide and when he was alone with her, he had a tendency to be too content snogging her than letting her think. This was still new to him, the thinking about things like this.

He spotted a familiar shiny golden form as he rounded the corner. "Hullo, mate," he called out. "Staying out of trouble? Let's find some, shall we?"

Even though he'd never been there, Josh made it there just fine. Following his feet in an old pattern that even with his powers beyond his grasp didn't seem capable of failing him. The new graves were easy to find, and had he his powers, he would have felt them from the gate. He was sort of glad they were off. He was tired of feeling death brushing against him, and him powerless against it. Not once it had ravaged someone so completely.

It had taken all his strength and courage to come out this far. And if not for Kurt, he might never have been capable of it.

He knelt down, sweeping his hand in soft caresses over the mound. Brushing away leaves and other debris. He couldn't really talk to her. Not yet. Not with anything resembling clarity. Not with words.

Standing, he brushed his hand against his pants and tucked the violin under his chin. It was a moment before he could pull himself to form, and he closed his eyes as he pressed the bow to the strings and began.

The words rolled in his head as the notes echoed. Tightening his throat, seizing his chest. But he had to say good bye.

The zombies cure was working. That meant that things were going to change soon. For the better. It hoped for the better. It would suck if they kept being as shitty as they had been. Of course, the cure meant that Lance had a choice coming up soon. He had to decide what he was going to do. X-Men or Brotherhood? Brotherhood or X-Men? The X-geeks were annoying, yeah, but, hell, they were a lot better now that Scott had bit it. He figured he should be a little more forgiving of the asswipe, but Scott had never even given him a chance so what was the point?

Kitty? Rogue? Yeah. They were cool. Hell, even Kurt had eventually turned out to not be so bad, though he figured a lot of that had to do with the fact that he had backed off from Kitty after she got the British boyfriend. And he kept backed off after the boyfriend's death, too, cause, well, by that time Kitty'd become more of a sister and less of an object of his affection. Mostly because he had forced himself to start feeling that way.

Bah. He needed to stop moping. There were things to do. He was going to wash his Jeep. There were still a few zombie bits on it from the latest run. He hated cleaning off zombie bits. They were sticky.

Walking down the hall, hands shoved deeply enough into his pockets to force his jeans down enough so that anyone passing could get a look at his hipbones, Lance whistled. Then he opened a door.

And stepped into a theater. "Holy Fuck. What now?" he exclaimed as his eyes shot around the building. It was falling apart. He hadn't heard Kurt's bamf or smelled brimstone so he could rule a practical joke out, and he hadn't seen Illyana's teleportation circle so he knew it hadn't been her. What the fuck was going on? Was there yet another teleported crawling the halls? Because that shit? Annoying.

Rogue debated taking the journal with her when she went to meet... Jono, she thought it was. In the end, though, she left it in the room in case Kurt needed it since it was actually his (Kitty, as usual, had stolen hers). One less thing to worry about, anyway. She'd emptied out her duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder, just in case they found stuff they wanted to bring back. She slathered sunblock on her arm as she walked down the hall, frowning as she noticed how little was left in the tube. That sucked. A lot. Maybe someone else had thrown some in their little survival kits or whatever, but she doubted that anyone would really be willing to trade for it. Frowning, she recapped the tube and stuck it in her pocket, then reached to rub the rest of it on her arm as she walked up to a guy who she assumed was the guy she was supposed to meet.

"Jono?" She raised an eyebrow, reaching under the strap of her beater to rub the last of the lotion on her shoulder blade and giving him a nod. "Hey."

Jono leaned against the wall of the highest balcony on the northwest side of the castle. It faced out over Hammer Bay itself and gave an almost unhindered view all the way to the ocean. The moon hung low in the sky, close to the horizon. Was rather lovely, really.

He blew out a could of smoke as he waited for his watch partner. Some version of Saint John Allerdyce. Who was a good enough bloke, if a bit off. Hopefully this version was less off.

Illyana had been looking for him. She was bored. There were only so many things a person could do or clean or watch before they started getting antsy, which was especially true with her. And, as always, when she was bored and lonely and just plain listless, she went in search of a Jono. This one had the added bonus of not needing his ass kicked and being constantly reminded to stop being such a brooding mess. It was a refreshing change, and it helped her not miss her best friend quite as much. If Sparky had been just like hers, things would have been a lot harder.

So she was porting from one room to another just hoping that she didn't stumble across anything that would be brain scarring.

Finally, she found him. Porting behind him, Illyana reached up. What she wanted to do was cover his eyes with her hands. He was, of course, entirely too tall so she just frowned and put her hands on her hips for a moment before reaching out to see if he was ticklish.

Jono was right bored. Granted, he was helping out as much as he could. But since he didn't eat and the food situation was well in hand, he spent his days trying to think of something awful to do the the Drake bloke when Illyana wanted to prank him and trying to make himself useful.

So when Anna-Marie offered him some one on one sparring, he was bloody thrilled for the chance to something familiar.

He was mostly in uniformed when he arrived at the training area. He'd left off his jacket, since he often had to be rid of it in battle anyway. Even though they likely weren't using powers, he wouldn't need his, but still, old habits died hard.

He'd had Onslaught peek into his head and attempt to siphon the incredible energy reserves stored in his body. He'd exploded once and become nothing but a random assortment of psionic particles that then coalesced into a replica of his former self before his control snapped. He'd been sucked into a magical dimension with fairies and gnomes and dragons to recover Cassidy Keep for God's sake.

Surely he'd encountered stranger things than being expected to stay at an abandoned palace in the middle of a jungle somewhere -- and maybe somewhen -- beyond identification.

As he stared around his room, though, he had to seriously wonder what exactly was stranger.

So far during this lovely holiday the X-Men had apparently involved him in, he'd spent most of his time hovering over Paige -- from a distance, of course, lest she get mad and start in on her feminist "I don't need your help" rhetoric. He was well aware of that, but he was also...well. He still cared about her. In any world. In addition, she was much younger and presumably more inexperienced than the Paige he was familiar with.

Besides. He wouldn't admit it to himself -- and he damn sure wouldn't admit it to her, not without full bloody body armor, thanks -- but he missed this Paige: the sweet fresh-off-the-farm girl he'd fallen so hopelessly for what seemed like a lifetime ago. He still would do anything for her, true; even if she was dating Warren, and wearing clothes she wouldn't have been caught dead in before, and generally acting like a know-it-all snob, and even if he'd told himself repeatedly that they were better off going separate ways, he knew deep down that he would still die for her. Having this Paige here as a reminder of what he might have had, could have had, if he hadn't been so horrified of himself and his powers and his "talent" for hurting everyone he touched...well. That was a bit too much for someone even with the healthiest psyche to handle, now wasn't it?

So he'd given up hovering for the time being and moved to the front steps, quietly taking in the scenery. It was nice, as far as jungles went. Not that he had a whole lot of experience in rating jungles or anything, but judging from a lifetime of movies and television shows, it was up there. Not quite as clean and path-ridden as on TV, though, which was disappointing.

This, if he could borrow one of Jubilee's phrases, managed to both blow and suck.

Other dimensions were old hat to Illyana. Even if she had only ever been in one. She supposed that all it took was one, really. Once your disbelief had been destroyed by being plopped down in the middle of a fiery land covered with purple demons without heads, it was pretty hard to keep thinking that your personal plane of existence was the only one out there. That would have been bordering on delusional, which was something that she was most decidedly.

So she knew from the moment she went looking for one of them that neither of the Jonos who were at the palace so far were hers. It didn't matter all that much, though. Not really. In fact, she was interested to see how many common threads there might be to either of those and her best friend from back home. It would also give her something to tease him about when they got home. Although she might not mention how one of these still had a face. She wasn't sure if that would send her Jono into a fit of depression or give him hope that he might one day find a way to get his face back. She was just going to have to wait and see how it all played out.

And then she spotted one of the people she had been looking for. Grinning, she teleported behind him. "Sparky."

Bloody hell, he needed a fag.

After he'd gotten Foley and Caro to the palace and contacted Rogue and Nightcrawler, even he was getting a but twitchy. Bloody insane, what everybody kept spouting. About Mojo, and other dimensions and duplicates and all that tripe.

Was enough to make even the coolest bloke's head spin.

He'd headed out to the largest balcony and leaned on the rail. Pulling out his lighter and fags, Jono lit up, taking a few long drags.

Completely bloody insane it was.

When Caro realized she was at least not outside the barn or anywhere at all normal to the dome, her first instinct was to shriek at the top of her lungs which was the stupidest thing to do but it happened. It scared the hell out of some monkeys that was for damned sure.

Her second instincts were to power up and kick the train of her dress backwards. Stupid stupid Mojo couldn’t give her an appropriate outfit could he? Nooo, she had to be in the fancy dress still, gripping her journal half to death. Well at least she’d apparently appeared in a theater. The semi-irony was vaguely appreciated. “Hatehatehatehate...”