John would have ENOUGH time later to be grateful about Bobby’s god given goodness - if he SURVIVED this. He was too weak and too focused on getting to Xavier to FULLY grasp how important Bobby’s role was in this at the moment, but even NOW he realized that his former best friend was in no way OBLIGATED to do what he did and instead was doing John a big FAVOR.
was all Pyro said to Bobby’s JOKE about refreshments. He might have found it entertaining any OTHER time, but John wasn’t one of those people who could keep their HUMOR up while they were lying on their deathbeds. Besides, the thought about FOOD made him want to throw up, much like he had done with his LAST couple of meals. Pyro BARELY noticed that Bobby held him up, the only thing he DID notice was that he wasn’t suddenly lying on the floor. Time was both FLYING by too fast and crawling a little bit too slowly, like thick HONEY over a piece of cloth. The things John CONSCIOUSLY experienced were like one long, exhausting horror trip and the other parts were skipped ENTIRELY, leaving him wondering where the last couple of seconds went, every now and THEN.
❝ I’m AWAKE.. ❞
John pressed out, not SURE if Bobby had asked that or not. His brain was skipping steps ahead, FILTERING out information he could no longer divide into important or RANDOM. Having Bobby drag him along was a sudden and unexpected RELIEF. It made Pyro realize how useless and WEAK his body had really felt over the last couple of days. He wasn’t sure if he could have walked ALONE again if Bobby had let go now. The infirmary. Something about that made ALARMS go off in John’s head and he started SHAKING his head lightly, too tired and weak to make his PROTESTS any more physical.
❝ No, I NEED to see..
the Professor.. I’m not
SICK, ❞
he tried to explain, fearing Bobby might think his ONLY problem was the blood still oozing from the WOUND on his head.
❝ My head.. ❞ he tried
again. ❝ I’m DYING, ❞
was what finally came out after his TIRED brain decided that the whole story was too much EFFORT to tell. He’d probably have to do that with the Professor anyway. That is, if Xavier didn’t REFUSE to help him. John didn’t know if he was telling the TRUTH or not. He certainly felt like he was about to die any MINUTE now, but he didn’t have any records on how long a human being could go without SLEEP. He was pretty sure though, that his body would give up EVENTUALLY.
They reached the infirmary SOONER than Pyro had hoped and when Bobby helped him get on one of the BEDS, he immediately sunk back into the soft mattress, feeling his body go completely LIMP. Almost at the same time the familiar tension came back, his mind racing with stifling FEAR to keep itself from drifting away and falling ASLEEP. John blinked, unable to keep his eyes fully open. The lights in the room were too BRIGHT and made his eyes water. His breath going SHALLOW he reached out and grabbed Bobby’s wrist.
❝ DON’T.. ❞ he said,
his voice barely more than
a whisper. ❝ ..let me fall
ASLEEP. ❞
Getting Bobby to have a bad conscience was not an achievement one could brag with. It was a lot too EASY for that. As easy as answering please to a joke, sounding like it took everything out of you to make your last word a desperate plea for help.
But Bobby couldn’t help it. This was how he worked, how he reacted to danger and seemingly hopeless situations — by cracking a joke.
His friend looked half dead already and if he managed not to bite the dust, there would be enough time for harsh words and joyless jokes after that. Bobby felt the heaviness of the situation and the threat before his eyes press down on him like it was a physical weight he had to carry along with John.
Bobby's feet were skidding on the floor while he was dragging John along the hallway towards the infirmary's door. The hand on his waist was gripping tightly to his shirt, but it felt like he was slipping out of his grasp anyway more than once. Bobby feared he'd hurt his friend every time he pulled at him to renew his grip and get him back up again. Having to carry him, he was glad that he spent as much time with training as he did; just as he was every time he went on a mission with the X-Men.
”Good to know you are,” he answered, not caring if John understood a word he was saying or if he wouldn't. The reason he was talking at all wasn't because he hoped John would listen and concentrate on his voice, but for the mere chance to get John's attention and to keep him conscious.
”Not sure if you're still keeping up but... I'm not doing so well dragging your ass along,” Bobby said, sure John wasn't keeping up at all. “We're not gonna make it if I take you with me, looking for the Professor. Who I will have to find first.”
John was hot against his side and where his arm was slung around Bobby's neck. He could feel it now more than the moment he had grabbed him by the door. It was way too hot, even for him, and Bobby didn't need a doctor to tell him his old friend was running a fever. It would need a doctor, though, to tell him why. Besides the horrible wound on his head, that was still bleeding, there didn't seem to be anything wrong with him.
”Yes, thanks, I got that. Your head...” Bobby stopped talking immediately, glancing over to his friend. He never got to finish the sentence he had begun.
It felt like someone had turned down the speed of time itself. There was a numb sensation in his chest as if hearing those words had made it more real than seconds ago, and reality didn't feel so real anymore after all.
”I swear to god, if you only came back here to die?” Bobby said, the corners of his mouth pulling down slightly as he turned his head to look at John. ”I'm gonna kill you.”
More than once he had pondered the possibility that Pyro, the member of the brotherhood of evil mutants, had died somewhere in a terrorist attack, the news being buried by whoever had the authority and the power to do so. Bobby would have never known. It was ridiculous and he knew it, because the chance that John could die without the news reaching them was absurd. He was a wanted terrorist.
His old friend and the man he was carrying into the heart of the Institute now was a wanted, mutant terrorist.
Someone was probably going to smack his head into a wall.
Someone was probably Logan and the thing was that Bobby knew he'd probably do it because it was the only way he could express he cared.
There was no real lock and the infrimary's door was usually open. It had proven to be beneficial through the countless emergencies of X-Men members returning from missions and now it caused the door to give easily under the pressure Bobby was applying with his shoulder, swinging open virtually soundlessly. The only thing filling the silence were their uneven steps, the dragging of their feet on the ground, heavy breaths and soft thuds.
The nearest bed was only a few feet away and that was where Bobby brought John. It wasn't the first time he had to support someone's weight and bring him here, but it was the first time the person was basically incapable of helping him get into bed. Everything was just a little bit more difficult if you had to do it alone.
Bobby heaved a heavy sigh of relief once John was finally lying on the mattress.
His heavy breath, the way blood was still streaming out of the wound on his head and his barely opened eyes glazed over told Bobby that this fight was, by no means, over.
He had to get Xavier.
Bobby was about to turn around and leave to get help when he felt John's fingers close around his wrist. A moment of tension passed and Bobby abandoned all thoughts of leaving immediately, staring at his friend instead. ”Why wouldn't you want to sleep? You look like you could use it.”
He could have misheard, he thought. John's voice was faint, more an echo of something someone had said three rooms away. All together it didn't look like John had a minute more and that alone was frightening. Bobby didn't care they were enemies, didn't care that he could have been long dead, now that John was here, he didn't want him to die. Not if there was anything he could do to prevent that from happening.
Bobby lifted the hand that wasn't held by the wrist and slowly put it down on John's forehead, fingers cooling down only enough that he knew he wouldn't hurt him. Too cold would have been worse than not doing anything. His skin was wet from sweat and blood. Bobby felt it ooze between his fingers as he pressed his hand down gently. ”I remembered you were hot, but you sure are overdoing it now. You're burning up...”
The serious and worried expression didn't match his words and neither did his voice. He knew he had to get help and he had to do it fast. Turning his upper body a bit, he turned his head more towards the door without taking his hand off of his friend's head. ”Someone out there? Little help here!” he yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping there actually was someone in earshot who could help.,
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