Julian & Fred: Home (Backdated to Friday Night)

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Fred discovers the source of Julian's recently sour mood. (Backdated to Friday Night)

Fred had spent the last two hours of his life in contemplation. When he'd agreed to take out the trash from the kitchen earlier, he hadn't expected to run smack-dab into the middle of his roommates personal life. Was it his business? Would Julian take offense? Fred hadn't been here long. His neophyte status notwithstanding, he'd never been real good talking with people.

He had to admit, though: Julian was a good guy, and no one should have to shoulder family issues like his alone. If anyone knew that, Fred was the guy.

He opened the door of his shared room, hoping to discover his telekinetic friend. "Hey, Jules? You in here?" He hoped that the nickname he'd heard a few of his cohorts call Julian would be acceptable for him to use.

The lights were dim, but up, Julian was sitting on his bed reading a text book. His attire had changed from colorful to all black and his usually brilliant grin was no where to be seen. "Yeah, Fred, what's up?" He didn't exactly like the nickname, but it wasn't something he was going to fight; even if it was a name Cass had used for him and every time he heard it a small part of him died all over again.

Fred bit his lip, then sighed and shrugged. Best to just jump in the deep end, he guessed. He pulled the crumpled letter out of his jacket, "I was taking out the trash in the kitchen, and this fell out of the can," he said, and held the piece of paper out to Julian. "You, uh...you wanna talk about it?"

When he'd received the letter, Julian had read it then crumpled it up, tossing it away haphazardly. In hindsight, he was wishing he'd shredded it and burned the strips. Now, his roommate was going to insist on bringing it up- at least that meant they had bonded. "Not really, Fred." He thought about it for a second, "Did you tell anyone else about this?"

Fred gave Julian a slightly abashed look, "Julian, it's your business. No one else's. For what it's worth, I apologize for reading it," and set the letter on the desk in the corner of the room. He opened the window near his bed and lit a cigarette. He turned back to Julian as he exhaled through his nose. He was sure Julian probably needed to talk, but knew he couldn't force the issue.

After a moment had passed, Julian got up from the bed and picked up the crumpled note. He retreated back to his sanctuary and started to read it again, his face going both pale and red at the same time. "Bastards," he said, wadding the note up again, but not throwing it away. He looked over at the open window and thought about using TK to push the paper out into the night. "Nothing is ever good enough for them, Fred."

Fred nodded, and curled another plume of smoke out the window, then spoke, "It rarely ever is for them. Parents I mean," Fred sighed and closed his eyes, and his thoughts went back to Lubbock. He opened his eyes, "I ever tell ya I left my house at gunpoint, Jules?"

"No, you didn't," Julian turned his attention from the window to the roommate sitting by it. "They kicked you out for being a mutant?"

"They? No. He. Dad." Fred said, he voice chopped and curt, "And it wasn't cause I was a mutant. It was just cause I was...well, me. I didn't know I was a mutant at that time." Fred loosed a short, humorless chortle, "Though, knowin Dad...I don't think he'd take kindly to knowing what I am,"

Julian nodded and took a deep breath, patiently considering his next words, "You really don't seem like the kind of person to get kicked out of somewhere, Fred. Sorry to hear it. My dad gave me two choices- here or some military school out in the desert." A shrug later, he continued, "I think I...we made the right choice coming here."

"I think I'd agree with ya," Fred said. He was silent for a moment, then reached deep into the inside of his coat, producing a small, yellowed photograph and holding it out towards Julian. He took a drag before he spoke again, "Here." he said.

The photograph was fairly old, but had obviously been treated well. In it, a woman, happy looking but old before her time, sat in a lawn chair with her eyes closed serenely.

The picture had obviously seen better days and Julian thought he saw some family resemblance as he handed it back, "Your mom?"

Fred nodded and, with a hand more careful than it normally was, replaced the photo in his coat, "Cancer. About six years ago," his voice, while even, seemed too quiet. However, Fred had thought a lot since his conversation with Lil, and figured she was more or less right about his life and his past. It seemed wisdom that Julian could use right now, "My Mom's...long gone. And my Dad wouldn't shed a tear for my passing. I'm not exaggerating there either. So, hey, at least your folks care enough to write a note, huh?" he said, and mustered up a laugh at the end of the sentiment.

It took a moment for Julian to react, but eventually he did smile. "They cared enough to let me know they're planning on disowning me, I guess that's true." He plopped back down on his bed, "My parents only pretend to care, because it'd look bad if they didn't." His voice had raised to a mocking falceto, "Oh, what would the neighbors say?" He looked down at the letter, still wadded up in his hand, "The real reason they don't want me to spend money is because they don't want anyone knowing I'm out here."

Fred laughed at Julians little mocking voice, "It may be a lot of that, but it might not be the whole story. Think about it: if they were so dead set on your exile, wouldn't they have just cut you off, sans letter?"

Julian snorted, "They're just waiting for people to forget about me." He set the letter on the desk next to his bed, "Maybe you're right though- mom could see the error of her ways and bring me back...but I don't know if I would go anymore."

"Well...in a way...isn't that good?" Fred's brows furrowed, "I mean...doesn't that mean you've found a place that feels more like home than, y'know...home?" Fred scratched the back of his head while he dragged off his cigarette. He still wasn't good at this whole talking thing.

The second after Fred said anything, Julian knew he was right. The mansion was more of a home than Beverly Hills ever had been. There was a community here, friends who accepted him and Angel. But a simple, "Yeah," was all he could muster before he got up and grabbed his coat. "I'm gunna go for a walk, Fred. See ya later." He headed for the door, his roommate had given him a lot to think over.

Fred put his hand up, "Just remember, Jules...a lot of people, at this school and in the world...they've had it worse then either of us." and got up off the bed, not to follow Julian but to throw the cigarette out the window. "Just remember it's always better to try and fix something than regret walking away from it, okay?"