Negotiations [Locked to future alt!verse Jackson]

[half_a_soul]

Jono had known it was likely to happen at some point. He'd been far too deep into Jackson's mind to not know why exactly he had run to the Nexus and why he was so insistent on not going back. Not, mind, that Jono wouldn't have tried talking him out of returning to his world, but it was easier that he didn't want to.

And, after about six months with nothing happening, Jono started to relax, as well.

The first one, he met in the Nexus, asking questions about Jackson. The second one he met there as well, though she was more subtle. Both wore the same sort of clothing Jackson had arrived in. Normal grunts, nothing more. Dangerous enough, he supposed, but mostly poor sods who were in the same bad position Jackson had been in.

He sent them home with no memory of Jackson, the Nexus or their mission. He'd been foolish enough to believe that would be enough.

The third one actually made it to his apartment, luckily while Jackson was out. While Jono had been out, too, but he arrived home first from practice to find the soldier--more advanced and better trained than the first two--pointing a gun at him and demanding to know where Jackson was. He'd probably have gotten off lightly if he hadn't shot Jono's guitar to make a point.

Jono made a point right back. Even with future medical advancements, it would take a long time to heal from first degree burns over most of the body. And then they'd have to straighten out his mind. It was possible the soldier could recover from the mental fucking Jono'd given him, but he'd embedded a message for the first telepath that looked at him to find. Jackson was under his protection.

He'd thought that had been the end of it. It certainly seemed to be for about a month. Then Jono woke up to a strange mental signature in the flat. He slipped out of bed, trying not to wake Jackson before putting on a pair of pajama pants and heading for the living room. Where he had to stop for a moment and stare at the man with white-blond hair and what could, maybe, have passed for the uniform of a Redcoat. Maybe. Once upon a time. And the wide leather wristband he knew held a vortex manipulator.

Time Agent.

Jono let out an explosive breath, hands on his hips. "Don't you bloody fools know when t' give up already?"

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[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

At first, Jackson hardly notices that Jono is gone. It happens, after all, that in the middle of the night one of them needs to get up at some point for some reason, but he's gone longer than usual and Jackson finds himself getting cold.

Cold, damp, the waste of the overcity used the drain down into the undercity slums in federal sector one, making the whole place stink worse than the usual rot and decay of forgotten human life. They used to call it Earth, but the choke of massive cities and the slow way the once blue (now yellowing) oceans were depleted made it easier to think of the planet as a federal sector rather than something that used to sustain life of its own accord. Nothing grows anymore if it isn't in a lab or in the sprawling levels of factories that stretch across the New Alliance and Europa continents. Plants, animals, human life. Nothing breeds here the way it does elsewhere or did on Old Earth, not even humans. Everything is sterile and life is propped up in a facade with science, as if humanity can fight evolution and their own stupidity with it. The rich turn on holowindows, with scenes of space or growing alien worlds to ignore the way they're slowly killing everything and the poor drink and die slowly in the steel prison basements of the cities, some having been born and lived and died without ever seeing the light of Sol.

His nose is filled with the stench of that unfortunate tour of duty when he wakes to the realization that he's alone, the nightmare of things long past causing his sometimes delicate sense of reality to slide slightly to one side. The bedroom is dark and the faint electronic buzz is nothing compared to the rumble of the barracks he was squeezed into in FS1, but he can't remember where he is. The smells, the feeling of soft sheets beneath him, the regulated temperature and the faint sounds of a comparatively small city beyond the windows.

It doesn't make sense until he reaches up to run a hand over his face and sensation floods through long-deadened nerves. Jono introduced him to Josh not long after he got here, a mutant with a powerful healing factor and a very pretty complexion, and in less than an hour he'd recovered from all the old war wounds and battles scars he'd been waiting for years to have treated at a federal medical facility. All the feeling in his right hand was restored, his limp was gone, he even had a whole ear again. It was ... beautiful.

Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Jackson stands to hunt around for a pair of boxers to slide into. While he isn't modest by any means, a life in the military has taught him the necessity of clothes and it's a habit living here with Jono hasn't broken him of. Yet. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Jackson pads out of the bedroom in search for a glass of water and stops dead in his tracks when he reaches the living room.

"Jono?" he asks, confusion in his voice despite the rush of adrenaline through his veins. Jackson doesn't even remember where his gun is these days, half thinking it went the way of his uniform, but this situation makes him itch to have it back in his hands.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

It isn't that Jono hasn't wanted to do the same thing to Jackson's gun. If they were ever found to have it in the flat, things would go badly. Then again, 51st century technology might be passed off as a toy until it actually hurt someone. Still, he hasn't done anything to it yet because Jono's had a feeling this day was coming.

The Agent jumps to his feet, grinning. "Jackson, right? I've been looking--" He stops when Jono steps sideway, blocking his line of sight. It's incredibly rare that the young mutant loses control of his temper, but his eyes flash in a very literal way.

"You been lookin' fer 'im?" Jono's voice remains level through effort alone. "Fine. You seen 'im. Now get yer arse outta 'ere, Hart."

The guy--Hart, apparently--raises an eyebrow. Which is the only outward sign of surprise that he knows his name. "Now now. You've not even allowed me to talk to him yet."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Jackson furrows his brows, staring around Jono's shoulder at the grinning Agent. John Hart. He remembers the voice, the smug tone it usually holds, but the fact that Hart doesn't remember him gives Jackson reason to bury the recognition. It might have been the highlight of his military career, all things considered, but it probably wasn't a blip on the radar of someone like a Time Agent, whose entire life must be glamorous and full of daring temporal rescues.

He really does hate John Hart.

"I don't have anything to say to you," Jackson states, a cold sweat rushing down his back at the thought of just how close the Agency has gotten to him. Why bring them into this? Sure, he's in the twenty-first century, but it's not their jurisdiction. It's a completely different universe.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

He can almost hear that cold sweat and all Jono wants to do is go to Jackson and hold onto him. But there was no way that was happening while this man stood in his living room. "See? Nothin' to say, so get."

John Hart frowns at Jono. "I can't do that. Federal military wants him back."

"An' they can jus' keep waitin'." Jono straightens, one hand slashing downward emphatically. "I'd've thought 'at was clear by now."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

What's going on? Jackson wonders, knowing Jono will hear his emphatic question. It's the 'by now' that makes him wonder, the idea that ... that this has happened before scares the hell out of him. How could he not know something like that? Why didn't Jono tell him?

"I'm not going back," Jackson states with a note of finality, stepping forward rather than back. John Hart doesn't scare him the way the feds do, even if he is their messenger. "You're outside your jurisdiction, Agent. You can't police the Nexus and you sure as hell can't police this universe."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

"No, but I can police our citizens that've gone elsewhere. And you're still a member of the Federal Military." John rounds on Jono. "And you. You don't scare me. I'll have you know I've had the best training in psychic resistance possible and--"

He doesn't get any further. Not out loud, though his mouth keeps moving. Jono hasn't moved an inch, just looking at the man placidly. "Are ya quite done?" he asks, counting the whooshes in his chest and stomach like one would count breaths. It keeps him steady.

He does reach back mentally, brushing against Jackson's mind. He'd explain it all. Once John Hart is gone.

"Now." Jono crosses his arms, glaring at the man. "Since it's becomin' clear 'at you ain't gonna leave us be, we'll try somethin' else." He steps forward, leaning in to look Hart in the eyes. Hart, who isn't even trying to speak now. Just glaring and trying to cover up the fear. "Could make you forget alla this. Ain't like I ain't done it 'fore. But. I'll leave you with yer memories so you can deliver a message." He watches his eyes flash in reflection from Hart's eyes. "'M done with messengers. You wanna settle this, send someone what actually can. Makin' meself clear 'ere?"

There's already telepathic reinforcement going on. John Hart is definitely going to remember the message. And forget how to get here once he's delivered it. It's not like the memories he has of Jackson aren't already faded enough. The man doesn't even remember that it's Jackson he fucked that night. Just as well. If he had, Jono might not have been so nice about it all.

He finally steps back, letting Hart move again. "And bloody well tell 'em t' call 'fore they come. 'S only fuckin' polite."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Although the telepathic touch is supposed to be reassuring, Jackson can't help but feel sick about all this. He's going to be sick, physically, but not until it's no longer a sign of weakness he needs to hide from Hart. Instead, he watches Jono, watches how easily he handles the Time Agent, and tries to fight down his fear of what will happen with the knowledge that Jono, if anyone else, is the most capable of protecting him.

But to what extent? How far will the feds go to get him back?

He keeps quiet while Jono delivers the orders, staring around the formidable telepath's shoulder to watch Hart's reaction, his next move.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Hart shifts a little as he gets his body back, glaring at Jono. He looks to Jackson, then raises his head. Like someone didn't just get past those formidable shields and straight into his brain. "This isn't over, you know."

Jono raises his hand to his forehead. "Believe me, it occurred. Now get outta here 'fore I do somethin' you'll regret." Because Jono's ethics are wearing thin and Emma's training is coming to the fore. And Emma always said that you fought with everything to protect what was yours.

Hart looks between them again and snorts, raising his hand to press a couple buttons on the vortex manipulator. A moment later and he's gone.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Once Hart is gone, Jackson collapses back against the nearest wall and slides down to sit on the floor, exhaling a shaky breath. He says nothing, isn't sure what to say, but his mind is racing with all the implications of Hart's appearance here. The feds know exactly where he is -- how could they possibly know? -- and they're sending Time Agents after him. How many have they sent? How long has this been going on? He wants to ask, he needs to ask, but he can't manage to get his mouth to form the right words for it.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Jono lets out a long stream of curses. He'd have repeated himself if he hadn't fallen back on a fair bit of Spanish. It didn't last too long, though, because he knows there's more here to worry about than just him.

He turns away from the spot where Hart had been, padding over to kneel beside Jackson. "Jackson?" he says, reaching out to brush the man's hair back from his face. "'M sorry. Hoped you'd never find out about them."

Jono sits properly, where Jackson can see him. "'E's the fourth. First two were jus' soldiers. Same sorta uniform you 'ad an' everythin'. Dunno 'ow they found the Nexus. Probably should've asked, but it didn' seem as important as makin' sure they didn' fin' you. Third one..." He shook his head. "Guess I got cocky an' called 'em out on what they were doin'. So they sent Hart."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Jackson looks up at Jono and the light brush of fingers through his hair, his brow knit in confusion. For now, he's obviously trying to fight by the fear and anger that's sending his mind into a tailspin, listening to Jono's explanation in silence. When it's done, he's not sure what to say. "Okay," Jackson finally answers, drawing his knees up to his chest and leaning forward to rest his forehead against them to take several deep breaths. "I can't believe they sent John Hart." It's sort of embarrassing.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

"T' be fair, doubt they knew anythin' 'bout you two bein' together." Because Hart certainly couldn't have told them. "Might know you sorta worked t'gether once an' 'at's why they sent 'im."

Jono shifts forward, wrapping his arms around Jackson loosely. Not wanting to make him feel penned in but needing to let him know he's there. "I ain't lettin' 'em take you back. If I gotta mindwipe every single fucker they send? I'll do it. Whole bloody system can fall to ruin."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"We weren't -- " God, he never thought, when he was younger, that he'd feel guilty about something as stupidly simple as sex, but with John Hart? He'd been drunk and he'd hated every moment of it and he still can't fathom why he did it. (Except, maybe, he hated himself for something and that was the only adequate punishment his drunken mind could dream up.) "They have to know," Jackson says, feeling almost dirty at the the thought. "They know and they sent him on purpose, they ... they're fucking with my head now. I know they are."

It's not difficult, is it? To fuck with his head?

"I don't know why they care," he goes on, something miserable in his voice. "I'm just one stupid grunt and I never did one good thing in my whole life, Jono. Not one."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

He can't stand that tone of voice. Jono reaches out with his mind as well as his hand, wrapping himself around Jackson as much as he can. I don' get why they're doin' it neither, mush, he says softly, cradling Jackson's mind with his own. But 'at's a lie. You've done at least one good thing. You were there fer me when I needed someone. Y' always were. Until he wasn't. Until he went back to his own world, but Jono doesn't hold that against him. They all do, sooner or later.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"I left," he says, shaking his head a little. "I might have been there, but I didn't stay. I ... " Jackson doesn't remember why he stayed in the Nexus as long as he did, only that he left at some point because he missed his mom and he felt guilty for some reason that was mostly unrelated to Jono. Which makes him feel worse now.

After another breath, inhaling slowly and trying not to make it obvious on the exhale that he's fighting back tears, Jackson goes on, "I don't want you to be responsible for protecting me like this. You don't know what they're capable of."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Doesn' matter. You were still there an' I was better off for it. He'd been a lot steadier and had more faith in himself with Jackson left. It had hurt, yes, but life went on. And it went on well for him.

He reaches up, stroking his fingers through Jackson's hair. Mush. Yer here now. 'At means yer partly me responsibility. An' they don' know what I'm capable of, yet, neither. They've gotten tastes, but I ain't 'sactly let loose, neither. And if he did, it might take out most of the building. He'd really rather not. But I'm gonna see if we can talk 'em down first. An' if we can't, then we use the PINs an' get somewhere quieter.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"I didn't think they'd find me," Jackson admits, shaking his head a little where it still rests on his knees. "I thought ... I thought ... fuck, they probably have a tracking device in me," he finally decides, though he isn't sure if that's a justifiable explanation or outright paranoia.

He knows he should deal with this on his own. Not by going back, he'll never go back, but he has to do something and not drag Jono down into it with him. Hasn't he done enough?

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

"I'll see if I can find someone t' take a look. If there's a trackin' device, Forge'll find it." He rubs his hand up the back of Jackson's neck and into his hair. "Might be they picked up the signature of the PINpoint, too. Ain't likely t' know 'til we get someone higher up the chain t' talk to."

This was going to be the end of it. They wouldn't hound Jackson for the rest of his life. Jono would find a way to stop it.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Jackson goes quiet, closing his eyes against the horrific reality of the situation, of the feds getting this close, and trying to enjoy the feeling of Jono's hand in his hair. Or, at least, trying to let it calm him down a little. "Yeah," he agrees softly, after a few moments of silence, following it up with a quieter apology. "I'm sorry."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

"'M sorry, too. Fer not lettin' you know sooner 'bout all this." Not that it would have helped much, likely. The reason he hadn't talked about it was because he didn't want to freak Jackson out. Fat lot of good that had done in the end.

He pulls away, finally, though he does keep touching Jackson. "We should probably get dressed. Reckon they'll drag their heels an' all, but if they manage t' be on the ball, don' wanna meet them in me jammies. Puts me off me game."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

The idea that they'll be back shortly makes him sick, but Jackson agrees silently and forces himself to stand up. He can't act like this, not in front of Jono and not if they're facing the feds, but it's difficult to not be afraid. While he might not be quite so insane as he would have been on a failed psych eval, he deserted his post and Jono has telepathically attacked a Time Agent. This can't end well.

Once on his feet, Jackson moves reluctantly back to the bedroom to dress, rubbing as his eyes with the heels of both hands in an effort to wake up and dry his tears.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Jono was going to telepathically attack a lot more than a Time Agent if things went badly. So far it was just some slightly higher grunt that he'd really taken out, but Jono had no problem at all going through everyone they threw at him.

He stood and followed Jackson into the bedroom, wrapping his arms around the other man from behind. "We'll get through this," he replied, nuzzling the back of Jackson's shoulder.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

He pauses, resting his hands on Jono's arms and sighing softly at the nuzzle. It's definitely a comfort, but his stomach is still in nervous knots. "Yeah," he says again, though he might not be entirely convinced. "I hope so."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

It's understandable. Jackson's knots are contributing to Jono's, though, and Jono really doesn't need that right now. Not when he needs to keep himself together for both their sakes. "Come on. Reckon we should do our part for the environment?" Which was his way of asking if they should share a shower. It would relax them both.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Jackson wants to ask if Jono thinks they'll be back soon, but he doesn't want to admit that he's afraid of the possibility. Which is ridiculous, since Jono can probably feel the very real fear coming off him in waves. He's trying to stay calm, though. He's really trying. "Yeah," Jackson agrees, knowing he won't be able to go back to sleep now. Or, potentially, ever.

Instead of standing rooted as he fears he might, Jackson moves toward the en-suite, guiding Jono along with him.