Bobby and Alison, phone conversation, late Wednesday night

[x-coldhands.livejournal.com]

After reading some of the things in the journal, Bobby calls Alison. They discuss a bit of what happened with him and Manuel, and their conversation from last week, and Bobby finally stops bottling everything up quite so much.



Bobby turns from his computer, reaching for his cell phone. He hesitates, hand over the phone. It's late. I don't want to wake her. Besides... Okay, he knows the last thought wasn't true, so doesn't even bother thinking it. She won't mind hearing from him, no matter what happened the other day. And there's really no one else he can talk to right now. Besides, she'll be thrilled to hear part of it, at least. He picks up the phone, holds down the number two on the keypad until her number flashes in the window with the word 'calling' beneath it, and raises the phone to his ear, taking a deep breath.

"Hello?" the well known voice responds at the other end of the line after barely two rings, followed by an odd thumping sound and a muffled grumble that sounds suspiciously like 'ha! gotcha!' before silence takes over, giving him the chance to respond.

There's a moment of silence as his courage nearly fails him, before he licks his lips and manages, "Ali? It's...it's Bobby."

There isn't the ghost of a pause as Alison answers, a simple happiness shining through. "Hi, Bobby." Another thump sounds, followed by a startled yelp. "Hey! You're not supposed to bite me! ...er, sorry. Image inducer ran away, rolled under the bed. Static got me. How are you doing?" The usual kiddo was absent, this time, effortlessly so it seemed.

"I'm...okay, I guess. How's the trip?" Bobby stands up, walking from his desk to the bed and flopping back on it, feet still planted on the floor.

"Hectic," was the quietly amused response, "kinda like herding a pack of hyperactive well meaning cats. Miles is loving it. He decided Lorna needed special attention and talked to her non stop at the cafe last night..." The sound of a chair being pulled closer filtered through. "He's still awed by the real world, sometimes. How are things back at the mansion, floodings and all included?"

"Oh, you know...chaos as always." Bobby sighs, closing his eyes. "Angelo and Manuel got into it today, I guess...I don't know all the details, but...de la Rocha seems pretty upset over the whole thing. Suicidal, even." A brief pause, as Bobby sits up. "Al? I feel...partially responsible for it." And this is part of why he's calling her in the first place, so there's no holding back, no keeping things from her, or what's the point of the call? Okay, aside from just getting to hear her voice again, without any detectable note of pity or apology in it, thank God.

A few others sounds filter through, Alison moving from the chair to something else, a couch perhaps. "I saw some of the posts when I checked in earlier." She'd been intending to tease Marie-Ange about her date, but ended up nabbing Kitty instead, in the comments to the French girl's post, but that seems something unecessary to point out right now. "What happened?" Voice quiet and calm, concern piercing through faintly.
"Well." Start at the beginning. Okay, maybe not the very beginning, but... "You remember when I iced the kitchen, a few weeks ago?" Stupid question, so he doesn't wait for an answer. "It was because of Manuel. He--I--something happened between us, and Shinobi had to break it up."

"Yeah, I remember..." There's a brief pause, Alison taking a slow breath. "What happened, if you don't mind talking about it to me..." She waits patiently on the other side of the line, not pushing further after saying that much.

Oh god. Okay, he knew this would probably come up. "What happened. I'm really not exactly sure...I was in the kitchen, making a sandwich. Manuel came in. He started accusing me of...of wanting him, and...then...things got weird." He'll tell her about the FoH stuff if she pushes, he's pretty sure she knows anyway, but he'd really rather not think about it right now. Of course, he doesn't ever want to think about it, that's part of his problem.

"For all that he can sense emotions, I wonder if Manuel understands anything about what works underneath it all," Alison murmurs, and he fancies she's shaking her head before she speaks again. "Things got weird?" She adds after a moment.

"He...started saying that I liked it. And...I don't know how he knew, but it must've been something in my emotions that tipped him off." Okay, that sentence made no sense. Try again, Drake. "You..." His voice drops, until it's barely audible over the wireless connection. "You know what happened to me, don't you, Al?" It's not accusing, not even really a question. More of a confirmation of what he's suspected for months.

There is a pause this time, and although Bobby doesn't know it for fact, it's more Alison connecting the link between those two statements. "Yeah, I guessed early on. That's why Hank let me in I think, even though he never said a thing to me about it. Patient confidentiality." Her voice is matter of fact more than anything else, unchanged from before as well in a sense.

"Right. I kinda figured." Bobby falls silent for a long moment. "There's something wrong with me, Al. Something really fucked up somewhere," he finally whispers, shivering, though not from the cold infusing his hands, leaching the warmth from the area immediately surrounding him without him even noticing.

"Manuel was wrong." There was absolute knowing in the words, a sense of finality. "There are things you can't control sometimes, Bobby. The body reacts, and it has nothing to do with what someone wants or likes. It just... happens." Sadness shading the final words, but that still unshakable sense of calm to them. "But you do need to talk to someone, hon... you can't try and sort that out on your own. It's not fair to you, to set yourself to be alone on it..."

"I know...I'm trying. It's just...to talk about it, I have to think about it." Bobby utters a humourless chuckle, quite literally frosting his hair as he runs his fingers through it distractedly.

"But you need someone to help you think through it," she points out, and there's a hint of a plea to her voice, peeking through at the edges. "And if you don't do that... it'll always just hang there, and jump out at you when you have no defenses against it."

"I'm trying Al," he repeats, a bit more forcefully. This conversation was getting off of the topic he'd originally called to talk to her about, but he doesn't want to mention the dreams now. It'll just make things worse. "Look. I didn't mean to dump all of this on you while you're supposed to be off having the time of your life. I just needed to talk to someone. Oh, and I have something I need your help with when you get back." A note of determination enters his voice on the last sentence, the waves of cold eddying through his room starting to dissipate as he forces himself to calm down.

"Bobby? I'm glad you're talking to me about this. I really am. I'd rather you call me on a trip anytime to talk to me than... not talk at all. Ok?" There's a pause but she accepts the change of topic. "Whatcha want help with? Just say the word."

"I want to get my mutation under control again. I don't want people to have to 'run to hug me and tell me it's okay' when I ice the kitchen, or whatever." The resentment comes over the phone loud and clear, although Bobby refrains from mentioning who it's directed at.

"I'll help." Firm and clear, a hint of determination that mirrors the one in Bobby's, although not as evident - still there. She doesn't tell him that Cain's word have to be taken with a grain of salt sometimes - if the comments spur him on to push himself further, then she'll let that rest. Bobby will have to make his own mind about the man, just as Alison did.

"Thanks, Al. I knew I could count on you." Another silence, as Bobby awkwardly tries to think of what else to say. "Hey, uh...can we just...forget what I said last week?" Cold doesn't bother him, but the flush rising to his cheeks right now, making his skin burn, certainly does. He drops his internal body temperature, cooling his face, breath held as he waits for her answer.

There's a pause on the other end of the line, until Alison finally talks quietly. "I won't ever forget, Bobby. I'd be lying if I said I will, and I won't lie to you. I won't do that." Another pause and she continues before he can talk. "I just won't ever stop being your friend, either. No matter what."

Bobby closes his eyes, sighing. "Okay." He'd do anything to take back his stupid, impulsive confession, but as manipulating time and space isn't in his personal reportoire, he'll just have to be satisfied with Alison's word. "I just don't want things to change between us because I'm an idiot," he confesses before he realises he intends to say anything.

"It wasn't being an idiot. Loving someone's never stupid. Ever." She takes a deep breath, but there's a smile on the other side of the line. "Promise you it won't. I'll drive you insane training as soon as I come back," half question, half statement, followed by quiet laughter.

"Yeah, okay. Sounds good." Bobby nods, even though there's no one to see it. "Anyway. You're probably tired. I should let you go." He tries to sound as upbeat as he can, not wanting her to worry about him.

"Good. And I'm glad you called," she re-iterates, wanting to make certain to get that point across. "Miles will be sorry he missed you. He'll probably ring you up tomorrow when I tell him you called..." She sounds calm really, a hint of amusement and fondness coloring her tone as she mentions Miles. "You take care, and call back soon, 'kay?"

"Will do. Tell Miles I can't wait to hear all about the trip when he calls me." The mention of Miles brings an audible smile to Bobby's face, as well. "I'll see you when you get home, Al. Be safe, 'kay?" He lies on his bed, on his side, the phone pressed between his ear and the pillow, fingers clutching it tightly.

"I will. I'll tell Miles. You sleep well, hon. And I'll talk to you soon," the promise of a call before she returns, if he doesn't call first. "Night!"

"Night." Bobby waits to hear the connection end, before adding in a resigned whisper, "I love you." Without moving, he reaches behind him, setting the phone on his nightstand, and letting the pain he's been bottling up since last week slowly start to flow from his eyes.