Log: Catching Up Characters: St John Allerdyce & Christy Nord NPCs: n/a Location: Xavier school grounds Timeline: 08 November 2013, after classes {waaaaay backdated} Description: A long overdue catch up (ie Petra is caught off guard) Rating: PG-13
Petra had been attending classes like she was supposed to - and expected to - since she’d skipped them on Monday, though she hadn’t been happy about it. She hadn’t been sad about it either, or angry, she was just… blah. Empty. Kind of just blank. She didn’t feel a whole lot aside from the occasional bout of crushing sadness and a deep seated sense of self loathing that she just wanted to escape from. She hadn’t wanted to inflict this upon anyone - they all had their own crap to deal with anyway and didn’t need hers on top of it - and as such she had taken to avoiding the precious few people she called friends. Dominik, John, Pietro, Rogue… she hadn’t responded to any texts in any more than one word answers and had gone out of her way to actively avoid them when she returned to the school.
As soon as classes had ended for the day, she’d ducked out and away first out of the gate to just escape. It was the weekend and she was glad for it. Meant she didn’t have to do a whole lot except hide away in her room or go for long walks and convince herself of all the reasons she had to go back to the school. Each time she did that, though, the list of why she should return got smaller and smaller. She had stepped outside for a cigarette before she went off for another few laps around the Park, wanting to sate the nicotine craving she had unleashed with those first few drags down in the sewers before she just sort of went out for the night. She figured she would get changed into her running gear and just run for a few hours until she couldn’t see straight anymore. That might help.
She turned the corner of the old building so that she was out of sight of the door she ducked her head to light the cigarette, relieved - not for the first time - that she had managed to escape without being cornered or caught or someone asking to talk to her. That being said, as she came to a halt, facing away from the way she had come from, hand cupping the lighter to shield it from the wind, a shiver ran down her spine like she wasn’t alone and her shoulders stiffened, automatically ready to run. When she turned around and saw John, she felt a surge of guilt before she felt a sense of shame and embarrassment and underneath their feet the ground lurched the tiniest bit.
John hadn't seen Petra since...well, since he'd left the tunnels to go get Rachel. Sure, they'd spoken over texts and the networks, but the two of them really hadn't spoken face to face. When he got back to the school, Xorn healed him, but then he was playing catch-up with his studies and well, Jean tended to occupy a lot of his attention. She was his girlfriend after all, and she'd saved him. Dragged him before he was lost and gone forever. if there was ever a debt he knew he could never repay, that would be the one that topped the list.
Still, when he came around the corner of the school, he saw Petra. She had a cigarette in her hands and she looked at him in a way that made him give her a curious look. "What, mate? You think I'm a ghost?" He let a small smile curl onto his lips, though he wondered why she reacted the way she did. He wasn't going to judge her for smoking, Rogue used to do it till she kicked the habit, but if Petra wanted to smoke, not a big deal to him. Everyone had their vice. His happened to be alcohol.
"You okay, mate?" he asked, now with a bit of concern.
“I’d hope not,” Petra offered in response to his comment, “otherwise Xorn did a poor job of healing you and I think we’d have all heard about that.” She hitched a shoulder, “Glad you’re alright, though. Considering.” He had been in such a state in the tunnels, for a while she got the impression that it had been touch and go and that they may have lost him completely. All because he’d gone out to be a hero, far as she understood it. It was fine, though, he was fine, and he was the type (whether he’d admit it or not) to try and be a hero for the people he cared about. After all, he’d broken her out of prison but she - rightly or wrongly - assumed that Remy had been behind it to break out Dominik and she had just happened along for the ride.
She took a drag of the cigarette and held the smoke in for a few seconds before she breathed out, making sure to exhale away from John so he didn’t have to breathe it in. “And you’re all healed up now?” she asked, “All… fixed?” she wiggled her fingers demonstratively, though her toes were still turned inwards and she was chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her hoodie didn’t fit her right, not the same way it used to.
"Yeah, I'm all here," John said, "beating on all eight cylinders and none to worse for the wear. Xorn bloody fixed my shoulder too." The one that had been bugging him since his trip to Mojo's Island. Those sorts of wounds he expected to stay forever, especially since it was nearly a year since that mess. Still, it felt strange. Not having the lingering pain there when he would overexert himself when he worked out. Gone, just like that. He should have gone to see that damn robot months ago or right after it happened.
He looked at her, "What about you, mate? You doing okay? We didn't get to do too much talking when we were in the tunnels. I don't think anyone wanted to talk much either." If they'd been there longer, chances were they would have. Sitting underground, hiding away and then acknowledging they had to talk to each other when they were ready. Probably end up with strange little campfires and if they were lucky, and if they could sneak it away from Callisto and Ms. Munroe, they could've had something under the fire.
"I know being back," he glanced about, "honestly, when we left, I didn't expect to come back." He thought the fight would go for longer, but things never turned out the way he thought they would.
“I’m fine,” Petra lied automatically; it was the first thing that came out of her mouth whenever anyone asked her if she was alright, it was one of those questions - in her mind - that people asked because it was polite, nowadays, not because they wanted to know. Not really. And John had a lot going on anyway, a lot in his life, just like Dominik, just like Pietro and Rogue. She wouldn’t turn around and tell him that she wasn’t. “Just tired.”
She looked at him and took a drag on her cigarette, having almost forgotten about it during the course of their conversation. She blew smoke away from him, lifting her shoulders. “I was expecting never to get out of the prison,” she offered in response, “Figured I’d be stuck there for life.” It had only been a matter of time before her trial had brought up the fact that she was a dangerous mutant. That she’d killed a cop. Wouldn’t have taken much digging to find out that her family had died in a mysterious landslide. Didn’t take a genius to make the leap.
She wet her lower lip, swallowed past a sudden surge of nausea. “‘s just an adjustment?” she tried, “That’s all. I mean- it’s not-” she shrugged, pulling her hoodie tighter around herself. She felt the cold so much more keenly now than she ever had before, even though she had more layers on. God, what was wrong with her? “But you’re sure you’re okay?”
"Yeah, well, couldn't let that happen," John said, even if he recalled Petra not looking exactly thrilled at being taken out. He was sure if she was there longer, the small space, the fact that she might be there for awhile, it would've broken her down. From what he heard, they got her out before things really went south. Though their half-successful break-out only got Dominik and Petra out, but apparently made things worse for everyone else. Enough that there was a prison riot.
He nodded, "I'll deal. Learned a lot. Especially about how far I'm going to be putting my neck out in future." Jean agreed with him that he shouldn't be putting himself at risk like that, but she likely didn't realize to the extent he was going to hold back. He'd still take care of helping out Petra where he could, but there were always the risks to consider. Almost dying opened your eyes to a lot. Especially to what you think is worth it. Selfish, maybe, but John wasn't naturally selfless like Jean could be.
"So, smoking," he nodded, "you know, there are better places to go. Places fewer people, especially teachers, are likely to come wandering around. That is if you're not looking to get caught with them." Until she was eighteen, she'd have to hide as much as she could. But after that, the school couldn't do squat to her.
He walked over closer to where she was standing and then took a seat nearby. He wasn't looking to go just yet, and it wasn't cold enough yet to really make him want to go inside and hide out.
“Gotta be careful who you stick your neck out for,” Petra agreed with a lift of her shoulders, arm wrapped around her waist as best she could like that would keep the cold out of her. It wasn’t working, and even the soft breeze was making her feel like she was icy inside, like the cold was coming from her very bones. She shivered visibly, lifting her shoulders and finishing off her cigarette, not quite smoking it down to the filter but close enough. She stubbed it out on the wall and glanced around for a bin to put it in. When there seemed nothing to hand, she dropped it onto the floor and, with a wave of her fingers, it was swallowed by the earth.
John had sat down. Why had he sat down? Surely he had better things to be doing than being outside.
Her hands retreated inside her sleeves and she went to sit next to him, tugging the hood up over her head. “Smoking,” she repeated. “You can blame Dominik. He started it when we got out of-” Her voice had been a little enthusiastic before it dropped, sort of sobering a little, “-well, you know.” She rested her elbows on her knees, chin sitting atop her sleeve covered hands. “I’m not so used to sneaking around here at the school. Where else can I go that I won’t be found by most people?” she asked, the idea interesting her in more ways than one. She turned her head to look at him. “Are there a lot of hidden places on the school grounds?”
"You can say it," John said, "isn't there a saying about speaking the name of a place more and more, makes it common and not as bad. Not saying it shows you're still scared. It's gone now, Petra. Blew up. You can say it, you're not going back." And she wouldn't go back. Petra was one of the few people that John was going to be willing to stick his neck out for. He paused and stared ahead, "Not going to let Mojo's Island cause me t o lose anymore sleep or have any more power over me."
And that much was true. If John believed in a god or hell, Mojo's Island was close to it. Having Jean there might have been reassuring at times, but he nearly lost her there. And that wasn't the only thing he almost lost too. A part of himself was gone and he felt like he lost another bit of that. Jean saved him, yeah, but some things she couldn't save and he had to save himself. He just didn't know if they were worth saving.
"Just don't go smoking twelve packs a day or anything," he commented the cigarettes, "I don't think the X-gene stops lung cancer."
Petra laughed softly. “No- I don’t intend on upping the amount I smoke,” she reassured, glancing at him through her hair, “Promise.” She lifted a shoulder. “It just- sometimes it makes me feel better, you know? Is that weird? Like… It’s the one thing I feel like I need that I can just- just sate, you know? Cigarette and that craving’s gone.”
She wet her lower lip, realising that she might not have been making a lot of sense. “I- I know I could say it; it’s not like the place is Lord Voldemort or anything-” (she’d seen the first two Harry Potter movies, but none of the others, which, according to Brandon’s boyfriend was a travesty) “-I just- sometimes I feel like it’s still there. Just waiting for the right moment to catch me again.” She shook her head, “Sometimes I feel like I should maybe still be in there. But I’m glad that I’m not. And- and I know it didn’t seem like it at the time, but I’m also glad that you got me out when you did.”
She leaned to the side slightly and nudged him with her arm. “I keep thinking maybe I’ll try and see it. Looking at the hole in the ground that used to be the M-” she looked at him, taking a slow breath before she said it, “-MDC might make me feel less like it’s just waiting to get us again.”
She wanted to ask him if he’d felt the way she did now after the incident on the Island, but she didn’t want to even begin to compare the two; his ordeal was so much more horrific on Mojo’s Island, so much more traumatising and he seemed to have come out of it okay (which what, made her weak?). He came out of it with Jean, the two of them like this insane power couple that nothing could destroy. She envied that a little because that wasn’t something she had, not even friends like that. Or so she thought- even if it wasn’t true. “So, these hiding places?” she asked, because she hadn’t spent a lot of time on campus, recently, hadn’t even explored it after she’d first arrived. “You think you can show me some of them?”
"See, progress," John said with a smile, "Don't let words hold you like that. Not places or people, or names that other people give you." Most people didn't know that John's actual name was St. John. He never told them. Why? Because he wasn't St. John, he was John and that was that. But still, those names, those words, John wasn't going to let people hold that over him. Mojo be damned. Having his shoulder fully healed did help things quite a bit for John as he wasn't reminded by the occasional aching pain. Though sometimes he thought he felt it, but he was told that was just a psychological thing.
John looked over at Petra with a smirk, "Yeah, but be warned, other people sometimes use them too. But they're not places staff tend to go to." There was never really a place on campus that was completely hidden from other students. John suspected that Xavier knew about them but ultimately trusted the students to be wiser about things. Xavier did tend to put a lot of faith into them, though sometimes John wondered if it was blind faith.
"One is the boathouse," he said, "Good place for drinking. By the lake too so the smoke smell gets taken fast. You can always hide some clothes there, in case you don't want to come back to the grounds smelling of it." Smoke did have a habit of permeating through fabric and then sticking in not only your clothing but your hair to boot. Some people didn't mind the smell of smoke, others cared a bit deal about it.
Petra gave a small smile, “That’s a good idea,” she offered, “I hadn’t thought of that.” She didn’t smoke a whole lot, so the smell so far hadn’t lingered past the cigarettes she did smoke but she knew if she smoked more then it might become an issue. Stupid cigarettes. She didn’t understand what it was about them that made her feel so calm, it was just like when she took in that breath and felt the smoke in her lungs… she just felt a wave of numbness wash over her.
She leaned back a little bit and laced her fingers together, looking at John, “Shame I can’t find anywhere where I’d be totally alone. Save the park, maybe. I mean I lived there for a few years-” she’d unintentionally told him she’d been homeless a long time ago, it was one of the first things that she’d told him that was private, she thought he may have been the first person she told.
“I don’t think I ever thanked you, you know,” she said after a few moments of silence, looking past him, back at the school building. “For getting me out of the prison.” It had done its damage, but she couldn’t imagine what would have happened if she’d been stuck in there for any longer.
"As soon as you get completely alone, you won't like it," John said, "that's why solitary confinement is a punishment for people. You think you want it, but once you're there, it'll drive you crazy." He'd done some research solitary when he knew that his friends were in jail. He didn't think that some of them were the type to sit and take it, and he figured one or two of them might do something batshit crazy to land their asses in solitary. It was when he discovered that it was a punishment, not a reward.
The words of gratitude were ones John wasn't expecting. "I probably got you in more trouble than you wanted. But I couldn't leave you in there. You're my mate. And you know, after Pietro and I went to visit you, that look on your face. You were ready to stay there forever. For some bullshit reasoning." She shook his head.
His only regret from that night was not being able to get Cessily like they'd promised Doug and Amadeus they'd do. And then, after that, there was no going back, even if John wanted to. He kept formulating plans, but then things wouldn't work out. Too much risk.
"Sorry I didn't get you out sooner," he said.
Petra shook her head too, reaching out and curling her fingers around John’s wrist, the touch fleeting before she realised what she was doing and withdrew her touch. Not all of her friends were tactile; she’d not known John long enough to determine if he was. She wet her lower lip. “You didn’t- I’d rather have been on the run out of jail than stuck in there- you- it wasn’t-” She withdrew a little further, lifting her legs to rest her feet on the edge of the bench, wrapping her arms around them, quite literally curling in on herself. “I’m still not wholly convinced it wasn’t bullshit, but you did the right thing in getting me out.”
She bit her lower lip, “Don’t apologise. You got me out. That’s what’s important, right?” She tried for a smile, it was kind of half-assed, though. Smiling was sort of difficult nowadays. Along with everything else.
“And you found us somewhere safe to stay.” Even if it had felt at the time like another prison, Petra wasn’t so foolish as to not appreciate that they’d taken a huge risk in breaking her and Dominik out in the first place but, more than that, in actually finding somewhere that would take them in. “I’m glad for it. And for you. You know, being my friend and all.” She wanted to mean the words, she did, but in her own mind they felt hollow.
She went for a rather abrupt change of subject, “How are you not cold?” she asked, because she was freezing, but then she always was nowadays. One of the byproducts of falling apart, not sleeping, not eating.
"Yeah," John said, "but I think we should be more grateful that this isn't still going on. The whole mess." Though he still felt anxious about it. Like this supposed acceptance and "mutant love" would eventually give way to this mess all over again. Call him a cynic or a pessimist, but he just couldn't buy the quick recovery. He'd probably be anxious about it and the problem was, he felt like the entire time everyone was expecting him to apologize for being a mutant. Fuck that.
John looked at Petra and smiled, "Course, mate. You know I'll be there to help you." Though he didn't know what was going through her mind. To John, it was just a casual conversation that had a light touch of sentimentality to it. The subject changed and he was fine with it. Especially since it was a bit on the chilly side apparently. "It's all about heat, mate," he said and brought a lighter out, "and it's not too bad. It's always worse in January."
That much he'd learned thus far. "You want a fire?" he flicked the lighter on and then brought the flame over to his hand and then made it bigger.
Petra’s lips curled upwards in the corners when John lit a fire for her and she just leaned a little closer, soaking up the warmth as best she could. “I’ve gotten too used to the luxuries of being here in this school,” she shared, “Like I’ve forgotten what it’s like.” She just moved a little closer, arm pressed against John’s as she lifted her hands to the flames, feeling the warmth against her skin.
“Thanks,” she said again with a half smile, a little warmer this time. “I’m not looking forward to January,” she added, “I hate the cold.”
She glanced at her friend, and then at the school, wondering why it was that she felt so utterly out of place and lost when she was surrounded by people. Why, even with someone who was her friend sat right beside her, she felt so alone.
"Well, could be worse, mate," John said with a chuckle, "You could be in Alaska. Heard it's cold most of the year with lows in the deep negatives." John was definitely grateful that the school, while not in the topics, was in a place that actually got summer weather. He commented, "Though it'd be nice if we could move with the weather. It's summer in Australia right now." It was usually when winter came around and he looked at the month that it made him feel a little homesick for the land down under.
He warned, "Careful there, mate. That's still fire and you could burn yourself." While John was immune to it so long as he was in control of it, he couldn't stop it from hurting other people. And he didn't want other people to be hurt by it. That is, until he actually wanted to hurt them and Petra wasn't on that list.
"How'd you survive the cold on your own?" he asked, implying the time when she was homeless. He wasn't sure for how long that was, but he knew that some people in films used newspaper to retain their heat. If he were a man of science, he might be able to explain why, but it was just a trend he observed.
“Used to spend a lot of time underground,” Petra offered in answer to John’s question, withdrawing her hands a little; the heat had stung her skin but she hadn’t noticed until he had pointed out that she was too close to the flames. How had she not noticed? “When you can shut out the world, you can shut out the cold. Earth is a good insulator.” She bit the inside of her cheek and then lifted her shoulders.
She looked at him again, “Sometimes I’d use newspapers stuffed inside my clothes, some guy had told me that. But after trying that for the first few weeks of winter, it was much easier to retreat underground. Safer too. No one can get you when you’re in a cave of your own making.”
She let out a soft laugh, “Summer sounds nice right about now, mm? Would you go back? If you were able?”
Newspapers. Yep. "Well, you gotta do what you do to stay warm," John said, "underground would be the place to go. Easier to hide too." And also to find a place to be alone. John often went looking for places to be alone when he was back in Australia. To get away from classmates that acted like tools or his own grandmother who enjoyed tormenting him. She had to enjoy it because she acted like there was nothing better for her to do.
"Yeah," John admitted, "America's nice and all but I'd rather go back to where I'm from. I know things better, economy is more stable, so I'll go back. Not necessarily home, but back." He had, after all, applied to go to college there, though the only people that knew that were Rogue and Jean. He stared down at the flame.
"You should head inside," he said, "as should I. As great as this fire can be, it's getting colder, mate." And that much was true. He learned a few things from living here. Fires could be great, but eventually, you needed actual warmth. He glanced at Petra and commented, "Let's go inside and grab some food, yeah? You look like you're almost done anyway." He nodded in the direction of her cigarette.
Petra glanced at her cigarette. She’d almost forgotten about it. “Oh- yeah-” she nodded her head and dropped it to the floor, stepping on it with the heel of her boot before she picked up the butt; she wasn’t one to litter. She used to hate it in the park and the area they were sat was sort of concreted a little bit so she couldn’t just hide it underneath the earth.
“If you’re hungry- yeah- we can go get food.” She wasn’t, particularly, but perhaps it would be nice for her not to be alone for a little bit longer? It wouldn’t do her any harm, would it? John would likely get bored eventually anyway.
She shifted and reluctantly drew away from the warmth of his flame, getting to her feet and curling her arms around herself, the cigarette end being held between her fingers. “Let’s get inside.”
Tilting her head, she waited for him to follow before moving away from where they had been and back towards the school itself. That had been… good. Yeah. Good.
Food sounded good and John was giving it a thought as she said for them to get inside. "Yeah, let's go grab some food, mate. And get out of this bloody cold," John rose to his feet and then stood up. They'd head inside, get some food, and maybe chat for a bit more. It'd be a good reason to avoid homework and really, it'd been awhile since he and Petra had really spoken. So much had happened since they were carefree (and drunk) enough for John to decide to sit in a wagon and have Pietro try to drag him.
"Hey, end of the semester, I intend to have a bonfire, use all the books they made me buy for my classes as fuel," he said as they headed in, "you should come. See what else you can add to the pyre. We'll make it big enough for Martians to see." He flashed a grin at Petra and as they got to the door, opened it for her to go in.
Already he could feel the heat from the school wash over them and he followed her in quickly. Food, planning bonfires, and hanging out with a friend. The day was good.