Johnny and Fred, Tuesday Afternoon

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Fred, caught in a bout of cleverness, ambushes the despondent Johnny with fast food.




Lil's system, Johnny had decided, possessed an innate flaw. While working out to the point of near exhaustion made sleeping a little easier and gave his muscles a distinct soreness that could be categorized as a very mild distraction from the restless thoughts in his head, it also left him famished. And that meant another trip down to what he could only hope was a vacant kitchen once he had showered and changed and toweled off his unkempt hair just enough to keep it from dripping down the back of his collar. The teen paced into the quiet room, exhaling softly at his apparent good luck and moving to inspect the contents of the pantry.

There was a rumbling, a low quiet sound that Johnny was sure to pick up on, as Fred came plodding into the kitchen, two large greasy bags in one of his large hands. He smiled broadly as he caught the sight of that unmistakable crop of hair, and knew he'd found just who he was looking for,

"Hey there, Shortstack. Where ya been recently?"

A small, temperamental flicker from his sixth sense proceeded those footsteps. There was no risk in the presence of his classmate, but Johnny's anxiety had set the mutation on edge and that uncomfortable tingle at the base of his skull was beginning to become normal, piqued into life by something as simple as the prospect of unexpected company. His eyes were already lifted by the time Fred entered and he did his best not to frown. "Hey Fred."

His more conventional senses took notice of the bag and he found himself having to hush the potential growling of his stomach so he could focus on the undesired question. "Around," was the only answer he seemed able to come up with and he shrugged absently, looking tired.

Fred saw the despondence etched into Johnny's face. Hell, even Cammie would've picked up on it. He offered his best smile and chucked one of the hefty, greasy Carls Jr. bags at his smaller classmate, "Glad I found ya when I did. I hate seeing perfectly good junk food go to waste," he said with a chuckle, "Double Bacon Cheeseburger, all the fixins, and enough fries and onion rings to put you in a diabetic coma."

Though surprised by the offering, Johnny caught the bag easily, the white mass seeming almost absurdly large in his slim hands. Faint curves tugged at the corners of his lips, "I think I'll risk it." It wasn't a simple or wholly genuine or even prolonged smile, but it was something and a quiet gratitude still seemed to linger once it was gone. "Thanks."

Fred jerked his head toward the kitchen table, "C'mon, sit a spell. Enjoy the food," he said as he spilled the contents of his own bag onto one of the two plates already sitting on the table, both flanked by two large sodas. It was becoming obvious Fred had planned this to some degree...

Johnny's gaze followed the movements of the older teen, a second shock flickering through his bright eyes at the sight of the plates and the sodas that occupied the otherwise vacant table. Being in the right place at the right time to receive fast food spillover was one thing, but being directly sought out by his classmate like this...it left him feeling guilty for seeking solace so intentionally away from them. He nodded mutely and followed, slipping down into the chair and beginning to unfurl the top of the bag. "...You didn't have to do this."

Fred chuckled and grabbed the ketchup, mayo, and mustard from the fridge and set them down on the table, "I didn't have to get out of bed this morning either, Shorty. I did it cause it was the right thing to do," he said with a wink and offered Johnny the aforementioned plate to use as he sat at the table.

"Still..." Johnny began removing the items from the bag and placing them on the plate as his uncertain voice trailed off. The spread was more than he could eat, even with his stomach feeling on the verge of concave. He could find nothing else to say by the time he looked at Fred again and so stayed quiet.

Fred looked over the table at Johnny, and looked at him with earnest, "Not more than a handful of days ago, I was over in Europe with Yvette, waiting to see if the first friend I'd made in a long time was gonna have to get buried. I sat and I sat and I sat and I worried and worried and worried. Guess how much good it did?" Fred snorted a laugh before he guzzled down a large portion of his drink, "About as much good as starvin and worryin yaself into a sickness is gonna do, Shorty. Now c'mon. Eat somethin'..."

The white-haired teen listened, feeling himself begin to nod numbly, and found his worn voice a few long moments after, "I know. Nothing I do or don't do carries any weight right now." The focus of his thoughts had returned to the man in the medlab and it was visible on his face in weighted brows and downcast eyes. Slowly he took a drink, trying to quell the fresh constriction in his throat. "That's...the worst part. I promised myself I'd do everything I could. But that doesn't mean much when you can't do anything."

"It's one of those awful little things no one lets you in on before it happens, eh?" Fred winced in commiseration and held up his cup in a small toast, "Mister JP's a great guy. He will get better. I don't say nothing as fact if it ain't. He's got the best people, the best, pulling for him, working on it."

Fred pushes Johnny's plate closer to the smaller boy, "What you can do, and what I picked up in Bosnia, is keeping yourself occupied...keeping yourself in one piece, cause if the time comes where you do need help, or then situation gets right, than being haggard isn't gonna do anything good for anybody."

Johnny nodded again. He wasn't a complete stranger to the notion of loss or the intolerable feeling of being powerless that often accompanied it, but the waiting...it was as foreign and terrible as Fred's words and recollections made it sound. "Doubt they could anyway." He listened to the same reassurance and the same advice he'd already received from multiple sources, and even given to some extent. With so many days of attempting to accept both already under his belt, it all sounded strangely hollow. He picked up a french fry and began to eat idly, if only to appease his suite mate. His hunger had since turned into a knot in his stomach.

"It's different than with Yvette," he said quietly after a few moments and a few bites. "I snuck in to see him, Fred. It's...not waiting on transplants or on injuries to heal or a matter of finding the right blood type."

Fred felt a twist in his chest, and almost regretted asking the next question, "Then what is it, Johnny?"

The younger mutant hesitated visibly, now motionless in his seat. He hadn't intended to say so much and it was a stark reminder of why he'd gone to Lil's in the first place. It wasn't the notion of his companion knowing the truth that troubled him, but being the bearer of it and the fear that it might bring him back to the state of that night: shaken and near tears and unable to keep the memory of those blank eyes out of his head.

Johnny swallowed tightly, saying at last, "His mind. It's like...he's not even there. They hurt him really badly and now he's just..." He shook his head. "Mr. Dayspring said he's 'not responsive' now and that they're trying to piece things back together." There was no certainty in his tone, no suggestion of optimism. Nathan and days without news had left him with very little. If his expression had been plain to read before, it was utterly transparent now.

Fred listened quietly, and remained unmoving himself while Johnny spoke. When he finished, he reached across the table and placed one of his large hands over Johnny's, "...I have been in pain for years, Johnny. I ever tell you that? Never could figure out what it was, but I always just hurt...just decided to grit mah teeth and live with it, you know? What else was there? But the people here, Doctor Grey...Mister Dayspring...Doctor Voght...they barely had to try to patch me up. Now? I feel great, better'n I have in...ever," Fred gave Johnny a hopeful smile, "If they could fix me in no time flat, without barely even havin ta try, then I tell you I know in my soul Mister JP is gonna be just fine. Might take some time, might not be the easiest thing in the world...but he's gonna be fine..."

Fred took a breath after saying so much, and took a voracious chomp out of his hamburger and washed it down with nearly his entire soda...

The older boy's hand obscured his utterly and effortlessly and it left Johnny feeling very young somehow. He shook his head slowly and looked at his classmate with dipped brows, "Never." He let the words run through his head as Fred continued, searching for some grounding in them and finding none but that which he could force. Experience told him that would not last long, but for now he would try to believe it. "...Yeah."

The feigned optimism struggled to hold to his features as well as his mood as they both returned to their meals. "I've been staying with Lil," he admitted after a time. It was partially a show of trust, partially a desperate attempt to occupy the silent space. "So...if you guys need me, that's probably where I'll be."

Fred chucked a handful of onion rings into his mouth, with seemed...wider than it should be, and swallowed before he wiped his lips and answered Johnny, "Lil's a great lady. And I'm pretty sure...she always seemed to care about Mister JP a lot. I won't tell anyone where you are, that's your business John," he used the more 'mature' version of his friends' name on purpose, "But I'll make sure everyone knows you're not t'be disturbed unless it's a big deal."

Fred put the ketchup bottle next to Johnny's hand, in an effort to get him to eat more of the food in front of him, "Saw Doreen around the other day...you two are pretty good friends, yea?"

John. The named seemed stranger to him than any of Fred's unexpected physical quirks (not that he didn't notice them) and the white-haired teen shook his head again following an uncertain pause, "You don't have to tell them anything. There's enough to worry about without adding me to the list." He smiled weakly, his tone hinted with that same small gratitude it had earlier possessed, "And knowing them, I'd just end up with more fast food ambushes anyway."

Johnny stole a glance at the bottle pushed up next to his hand, taking the hint and picking up his burger again. "Yeah...But I haven't seen much of her lately. How is she?"

Fred rolled his shoulder, "She and I haven't talked all too much...heh, I think she's a little scared of me." Fred smiled and shrugged, "But the only way you'll know how she's doing is if you, y'know, go talk to her," Fred finished his soda and gave out a contented sigh, "Talking helps, John. It hurts, every second of it hurts, but it helps, I promise."

"Scared of you?" Johnny seemed genuinely perplexed, having as much difficulty with the idea of fearing Fred as the notion of Doreen being less than exuberantly social with anybody, especially a teammate. He shook his head. "Maybe," he conceded after a prolonged sip from his straw. "Though I'm probably not the kind of company she'd want right now."

The latter of the older mutant's statements gave him pause, his features sobering and shedding the last of their attempted ease for the weighted quality of experience. Not always, he wanted to say, but didn't. Instead, he nodded and slid a forced smile into place. "...Thanks, Fred. I'll keep it in mind."


Fred gathered up the flotsam left over on the table and threw it into one of the discarded fast food bags, "All your mind needs to be on right now is your stomach and your sleep schedule, alright?" Fred patted Johnny as he passed by him to throw away the trash.