Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men: Evolution, or the beginnings of X:Men- The Movie.
A/N: Bobby's thoughts as he lies awake at night. Pretty random, but not really funny random. Kind of a connection between the end of Evo and the beginning of the movie, but if this happened the movie would've started WAY differently. Some BobbyJubilee, but not much. Hints at BobbyRogue in the future.
Bobby thinks. (He knows it's amazing.)
Late at night, during the sliver of time that exists between being awake and being asleep, his mind ponders things he wouldn't be smart enough to contemplate while fully conscious. He remembers things he would've forgotten. Feels things... he can't explain.
Tonight is hot. He curses the sticky, muggy month of August. The tall windows have already been thrown open, the warm breeze wafting through, and his sheets and blankets are bunched up at the foot of his bed. During the day he would claim he "doesn't do" warm weather.
At night, he's a completely different person.
As he lies on his side, he thinks about Jubilee. Before she left, he had thought about her a lot, thought about maybe asking her out sometime. But every night he tries to picture her, her face just seems harder and harder to remember.
She said goodbye to him first, boldly kissing him on the cheek, and handing him her phone number. He figures she had wanted to get it over with. Her handwriting is loopy and the paper is purple, he thinks, but he also thinks he accidentally threw it away. He's an asshole sometimes.
After Jubilee left, he became a leech. He promptly pushed her to the back of his mind and started flirting with any girl who could stand him. First it was Tabitha, then others he can't remember.
He thinks about some of the older girls, like Kitty or Jean. They're nice, and Bobby will take what he can get, but he can't take them. He has always been jealous of the big guys- Scott, Logan, maybe even Kurt. They're moderately attractive, and hardly have any trouble picking up girls.
He becomes fixated on the clock, his vision sliding in and out of focus as time slides over in sleep's favor. He's got a few minutes to squeeze in a few more coherent thoughts before his subconscious takes over. He turns over onto his other side, waking himself up a bit. The drapes flutter a little, and he watches them as if in a trance.
Bobby's a daredevil, a goofball. He likes playing pranks, and the thrill of potentially getting caught. He doesn't like wanting what he can't have. So why is it that tonight, during the sliver of time that exists between being awake and being asleep, his mind is pondering her?
This feeling is illogical. He doesn't think he's ever spoken a word to her, and how could he? She closes herself up, shuts others out. Sometimes even the lucky ones get the cold shoulder. He hardly even knows her.
He thinks about the unique white stripe in her hair, and wonders how she got it. For a second he's fully awake, wondering why the hell he's suddenly attracted to her anyway, but this is that moment when he just thinks, and nothing has to make sense, it's just the things in the back of his mind manifesting themselves in the front. He'll forget this in the morning anyway.
He doesn't like wanting what he can't have.
He wonders what it would be like to touch her and really experience the pain. He wonders how it would feel to kiss her; sensation and pleasure mixed with fear and agony. He wonders how she would react to having his memories in her head.
Sometimes on dark nights, when the moon has been waning and there's hardly any light in his room, he spends the night with his own memories of his family. He closes his eyes but doesn't fall asleep, and on the back of his eyelids he watches the events as if they were a movie.
Tonight isn't dark enough.
Tonight the moon shines bright, and when his eyes rest on his upturned wrist, his veins glow a cold, icy blue. He thinks about ice, the ice that flows from somewhere inside him to emerge from his body. Maybe it flows in his blood. If he cut himself, maybe he'd bleed blue.
He doesn't figure he wants to know.
The four elements are earth, fire, wind, and water. He thinks he's water, or at least close. Close to being elemental.
Somewhere out there is his opposite, fire. He's met him once before, back when Apocalypse was the impending apocalypse and he had suddenly become important. They didn't fight for very long; he got in a good shot and "Pyro" was left feeling pretty frosty.
If he really felt like doing a psychological analysis, he'd state that their powers influenced their actions. He'd bet some money on the fact that Pyro's got a fiery temper, while he himself will stay frozen in time as the same old Bobby. Some things never change, and he figures he'll stay unimportant and immature forever. He's lasted this long, at least.
Then his brain starts into the part of his mental spiel where he's getting smarter than normal, and he becomes a living dictionary, realizing elemental can also mean essential. As if he'd ever be more than a background to the X-Men. Someone to fill up space behind more important members, the ones he idolizes, or tries to impress, or falls in love with. After all, water isn't quite ice.
And Bobby Drake isn't quite elemental.
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