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?"

Comments

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"Right," he agrees, though that doesn't seem to stop him from sliding one arm around Jono's waist and threading his fingers through the other man's hair to draw him closer still for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, and with a hint of desperation that will no doubt feel like he wants to kiss Jono just in case it's the last time. It won't be, it can't be, but one can never be too careful about things like this. About people you love and situations that are more dangerous than they can be properly given credit for.

When he draws back, it's with a small smile. "Okay. I'm ready now."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Jono curls his fingers into Jackson's shirt, holding him closer. He's had too many people in his life taken from him before he was ready. No way is he allowing Jackson to be another. "I've got a call t' make, too, 'fore we go." It can't hurt to have Josh on standby. Just in case the only way they'll let Jackson leave is dead.

He finally pulls away with another peck to Jackson's mouth before he lets go, needing to get dressed before they go anywhere. And to make that call.

It takes nearly the full half hour before they get to the Nexus, both of their PINpoints recalibrated. Jackson's panic button will take him to the island mutant nation, where Josh can help or the X-Men can take on any comers. Jono's panic button is set for an old nuclear test island in the middle of the Pacific. Far enough away from anybody who could be hurt that he can completely let go with his powers if he has to.

Jono reaches back, catching Jackson's hand with his for a quick squeeze before they move forward, trusting Jackson to tell him when the people they likely need to see appear.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

By ready, of course, Jackson means mentally; for the next half an hour he does dress and locate his weapons, strapping the handgun to his hip and shouldering the rifle after checking both are active and usable (even after just six months).

Once in the Nexus, he somehow manages to be all business. Apart from the quick squeeze he gives Jono's hand, that is.

After a long stretch of minutes, watching and waiting for the arrival of the feds, Jackson sucks in a slow breath and inclines his head slightly forward, indicating the small, but heavily armed, group of federal escorts surrounding a highly decorated officer. Several of them are Time Agents, if only by the vortex manipulators they wear. (And in the very back, though Jackson will fail to recognize him, is a much older Gray.)

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Jono nods once he follows Jackson's line of sight, taking a breath himself. It doesn't fill his chest or anything like that, but it does make him feel better. Once he's settled, he starts walking that direction, mind touching each of them. Yes, better psychic training this time. Not entirely enough to keep him out of he needed to do something.

It's the older Gray that makes him pause, looking straight at the older man before glancing back to the officer. Gray, who obviously recognized Jackson from the team that had rescued him. Gray, who had been born on Boshane and was taken from his family at an early age. A story that Jono knows because of who Jackson should have been without Adam's influence. Which left him feeling out of sorts more because he sort of wished he could tell them both what they'd lost.

Instead, he squares his shoulders and made his way forward, not looking at all perturbed by the height difference between himself and the officer. "Good of you to finally meet with us, sir," he said politely. "Should we find somewhere to sit and discuss this matter?"

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"We can discuss it here," the officer says evenly, holding out his hand to the nearest soldier. The soldier opens a case and hands the officer several plastic sheets of what no doubt passes as paper in the fifty-first century. "I have a copy of the Sergeant's enlistment papers. His legally binding contract with the federal government has been broken and we're here to arrest him for desertion. This is an agreement he made with the government when he signed this contract and he was fully aware of the consequences of his actions when he left his post."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Sergeant. Jackson had never even made it to captain. Never even been a Time Agent. Once more, Jono feels the need to track down Adam and make him hurt for what happened.

Instead, he holds his hand out, obviously asking for the paper. "I see. Problem is, Nexus is sorta the ultimate in neutral areas. Man can claim sanctuary 'ere an' there ain't a blessed thing you can do 'bout it." Of course, if Jackson claimed the sanctuary of the Nexus, leaving it again would be a bitch.

He paused a moment, tilting his head with a frown. "And you'd do well t' call yer man back outta me home. Otherwise I can't guarantee what a territorial firelizard might do to 'em." Yes, Siouxsie was supposed to stay out of sight and not attack anybody. Didn't mean that she wouldn't, especially as she'd been a bit broody the past few days.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"Unless you're a sanctioned government official and can offer some documentation on the state of the Sergeant's request for asylum, I'm afraid that we won't be able to recognize any multiversal area as sanctuary." The officer pauses, glancing over Jono's shoulder to give Jackson a scrutinizing look. "Besides, isn't sanctuary for political or religious reasons? Ultimately, the Sergeant is merely running away from his contractual obligations with his government."

As for anyone being in Jono's home, the officer merely raises an eyebrow. (And the Time Agent to his left presses a button on his vortex manipulator, no doubt to call the team off.)

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Like Jono didn't see that.

He watches the official for a long moment, brow furrowing. "Yer goin' t' an awful lotta trouble t' get one soldier back," he finally points out. "I mean, alla this? The rehab on that third fella's gotta be more 'an any of this's worth." Frankly, most sane people would have called off after realizing they might be up against more than they bargained for. "I mean, fuck. You ain't even usin' 'is name, jus' 'is rank. You probably couldn' even tell me without lookin' at yer bloomin' records."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"You're right," the officer states simply. "I don't know his name, I had to check on his rank, and frankly? I don't give a damn how much it costs to get him back, we have a no sanction policy on desertion. He'll make a fine example of how the federal government doesn't tolerate desertion and I'll be damned if I'll be bullied into backing down by a somewhat exceptional telepath."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

"You blokes never heard o' the term 'waste of resources' before?" Jono holds back a smile because 'somewhat exceptional telepath' is fine with him. He'd prefer they underestimate him. It's easier at the end of the day. "What's the punishment fer desertion, by the by?"

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"Prison," the officer states, raising both eyebrows. "The Sergeant will be taken to a penal mining colony on Telesto." The officer gives no terms or conditions, no length of sentence or hope for parole, because there are none. The length of sentence is the rest of Jackson's natural life. "After his arrest and sentencing is broadcast, of course."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Slightly better than death, yes, and one that Jono might, eventually, have a chance of hell of breaking him out of. Better not to even go there, though.

He takes a moment to center himself, feeling a niggling at the back of his mind. He swats at it, glancing over the back up the officer's brought with him before shutting his shielding down tight. And hard enough to see their telepath wince. "Awroight. What's it gonna take t' get outta this mess? Without anybody goin' t' jail." Because it's really, really not an option.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"We are not here to negotiate," the officer states with a stern finality in his voice, brow knitting in obvious annoyance. "As a matter of fact, I've been given the green light to use any force I deem necessary to remove the Sergeant from this multiverse and return him to our universe."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

"Then we're in a very difficult position here, because I ain't 'sactly willin' t' let that happen." Jono kept his voice level, glad that the lack of a heartbeat would keep him from giving too much away. But he actually was starting to get scared that they couldn't pull this off.

He glanced at the papers, then back to the officer. "Fine, then. Yer worried 'bout him not fulfillin' the contract? How much would it take t' buy the contract from you?" Before the officer could say anything, he plowed on. "I mean, think 'bout it. You've already lost one special forces soldier an' who knows how long it'll take you t' get 'im back up t' scratch? Willin' t' bet longer 'an you'd like. An' I can pretty much guarantee you that I ain't gonna let this lie. You take him with you an' I'll find a way t' rescue 'im. Do me best not to let anybody really dangerous out by accident, but y' know how these things go. An' at the very least, you'd end up with havin' to deal with injured guards an' Lord only knows what else."

Jono looked back and found one of the Nexus sofas behind him, back to him so he could lean back against it. Still looking far more relaxed than he actually was. "An' you can tell yer telepath t' stop tryin' t' get in. Already felt 'em an' next time I feel 'im? 'E's gonna get more than a slap an' me shields slammin' down in 'is face. You ain't gonna get me t' soften up none that way."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

"The contract is not for sale," the officer states with an air of boredom and annoyance. "Our scans indicate that your temporal origin is the twenty-first century. What to you think you could possibly offer us from an era like that? Nothing that could possibly cover the cost the Sergeant's contract, I assure you."

Without so much as a blink, the telepath in the group switches routes -- according to the orders he was given well before they arrived -- and chooses the path of least resistance. Through Jackson. And while Jackson has had several shields put in place since arriving, it's very unlikely he'll be as formidable a match as an Omega level mutant.

"You'll excuse me if I doubt your ability to do more than talk and screw with heads," the officer goes on while his telepath wheedles carefully away at Jackson's mental shielding. "Now please step aside and let us take the Sergeant into custody."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Most of the shields in Jackson's mind are Jono's work, but they're self sustaining. Jono doesn't really have any connection to them anymore. Which wasn't to say that there weren't a few traps set that could alert him to trouble. After all, they were there because of Adam. Anybody going deep enough to mess with memories would find themselves in a lot of trouble.

Jono, for his part, gives the officer a serious look. "What the fuck, mate? What part of any of this conversation made you think I'd jus' walk away from this?" Jackson's his friend. More than his friend, honestly. But they had him in the dosh, at least. He had no idea what the exchange rate of pounds to whatever the currency of the future was, but he doubted he had enough to cover it.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

The telepath isn't interested in tampering with Jackson's memories so much as suggesting he draw his weapon ... and point it at Jono's head. Unfortunately for Jackson, he's quite susceptible to these sorts of suggestions, all federal soldiers are, and he doesn't even realize what he's doing until it's done. Round chambered, safety off, finger on the trigger, with the business end of his handgun pointed at the side of Jono's head. He looks surprised, then pained. Try as he'd like, Jackson can't will himself to move his arm, drop the weapon, or even make a hair's width change to his aim.

The officer looks amused. "The part where I offer to let you walk away," he answers smugly.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

It surprises the hell out of Jono, too. He glances over to Jackson, taking in his expression before reaching out to brush his mind against the other man's. Enough to realize exactly what's happening.

When he turns back to the officer and his contingent, though, he doesn't look scared. Definitely not as scared as someone with a gun to their head should be. And perhaps the way his eyes literally flash is a sign.

He touches the other telepath's mind, reaching in first to shatter his control over Jackson. Then he does the same to the shields meant to keep him and any other psychic out. The other telepath collapses only a moment later, unconscious before he hits the ground.

Jono never takes his eyes from the officer. "Realize I'm jus' a 'somewhat exceptional telepath' from the back endda time an' all, but you really should remember 'at nobody lays out all their cards in an openin' volley."

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

As soon as the control is released, Jackson lets his gun arm drop without letting go out of the weapon. It feels exceptionally heavy in his hand after the struggle of willpower versus telepathic suggestion, but he knows he can't discard it.

The officer's lips twitch into something that looks more like a sneer than a smile. "Of course," he agrees, reaching for the strap device on his own wrist to press a button. The immediate effects are ... unnoticeable, actually, but what he says next does send a chill down Jackson's spine. "And now that I've dampened your -- what was it? -- anti-violence field, I'm sure you'll give up this foolish posturing. You are outnumbered, telepath or not."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Jono blinks at him, shifting to stand in front of Jackson. His body can take the hits better than Jackson can, after all. More than that, though, he's getting seriously annoyed with these guys. Annoyed enough for the first curls of power to leak out of the corners of his mouth.

"Outnumbered?" He counts minds, then reaches out to each of them. He didn't want violence. Never had. But he's going to put a stop to this before it gets worse.

The soldiers remain standing. But their guns clatter to the ground one by one. "It ain't foolish if it works, mate," he said, breathing out more energy with each word.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

The officer looks absolutely stunned at the clatter of weapons and struggles to maintain a sense of composure. He has a job to do, damn it. "This isn't over," he snarls.

And it isn't. Not yet. Not until Gray takes the final step up behind Jackson and slides the razor-sharp blade between his ribs. It almost doesn't hurt, the blade is so sharp and the stab is so efficient, but the way his breath hitches and his muscles seize seem to multiple the pain exponentially. Or maybe it's the way that Gray jerks the blade violently to tear the wound open. Jackson isn't sure, just that everything has disappeared beyond the rush of blood past his ears and the numb feeling that smacks him suddenly in the face.

"Some of us," Gray hisses in his ear, "don't have the luxury of forgetting, Jack."

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

If he still had a heart, Jono's sure it would have stopped on that hitched breath. The pain is nearly his own, officer dismissed out of mind because he realizes only now that it WAS a trap. Just not the one they were expecting.

"You fool," Jono whispers, eyes not for Jackson but for Gray. "Bloomin' 'ell, you bloody fuckin' FOOL."

And then his only thoughts are for Jackson. If he can get him to the island, to Foley in time...

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Jackson has absolutely no idea what he's done to deserve this, but he knows that he's forgotten something -- he asked Jono to take it all away, all the things that had been twisted and changed at the root of his psychological problems -- and it must have been important. He doesn't recognize the voice, doesn't understand the significance of being called Jack, and doesn't even question any of it. He can't. When he opens his mouth in an attempt to speak, all he cough is sputter blood.

With a final, violent twist, Gray shoves the knife in to the hilt and pushes Jackson forward to heap onto the ground. He looks unsatisfied, as if finally seeing his years of planning to completion isn't actually good enough, and takes a measured step back. He doesn't look sure of himself now, doesn't seem to know what he's doing now that he's killed his brother.

[psi-flames.livejournal.com]

Not dead. Not dead not dead not dead. Jono could still feel the spark in Jackson's mind as he scrambled forward, patting down Jackson's pockets. "You and your fuckin' pockets," he grumbles, because he has to do something to ignore the way his hands shake. He doesn't want to leave himself without a PINpoint, then seems to remember where they are. As long as he can remember the coordinates home, he can get to the island.

Jono grabs his own PIN out of his pocket, looking up at Gray with a glare. "Stay put," he growls, then reaches down and wraps Jackson's fingers around the PIN. He leans down for a quick kiss, ignoring the taste of blood on his friend...on the man he loves. Fuck, he needs to just admit that. Once Jackson's okay again. Without another word, he presses the right button and scrambles back to get out of the teleport.

Foley would be able to save him. He had to. But once Jackson's gone, Jono can see just how much blood is on the ground and he can't stop the way his hands shake for anything.

[not-skywalker.livejournal.com]

Unfortunately, Jackson hardly notices the kiss. Things have stopped registering fully for him beyond the slow creep of cold that's began steadily claiming his limbs. Everything, even feeling, dims around the edges into a hazy blur. And then everything is a hazy blur. Is it death or is it the teleport?

Gray blinks. Slowly.

Remarkably, he does stay put, as if the command was necessary and gave him some sort of purpose instead of floundering in his success before eventually drowning in it.

"You can kill me," he says simply, once Jono's attention is no longer divided by his foolish rescue attempt. His eyes have dropped to his hands, covered in blood, and he looks at them as if they're detached from his body. "Killing him was the only thing left worth living for."