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eliyesAs I mentioned in the Author's notes of Do Over, I rewrote it several times before I got something I was willing to post. Well, I've recently decided that the second-to-posted attempt doesn't entirely suck -- it just wasn't what I was looking for -- so I'm going to post it up as a deleted scene.
Minus all the angry editorial scribblings in the margins, of course.
It would be best if you've actually read "Do Over", but if you don't wanna, here's what you need to know: in Wolverine v.3 #25, a brainwashed Wolverine killed Jean-Paul Beaubier (Northstar). In this fic, when Bobby Drake (Iceman) died (whenever that will be), a higher power offered him the chance to go back and change one thing he'd done in his life, and relive things from that moment as they would have been if he'd done that the first go around, with no memory of the choice. Bobby chooses to save Jean-Paul.
All of this is in "Do Over", but here's what he did, what happened, and what happened next from an earlier version. I ultimately didn't go with this because it switches perspectives, and Jean-Paul wasn't as shaken by what happened as I wanted. It is, consequently, a lot more upbeat.
Title: Do Over: Deleted Scenes
It was a moment out of nightmare. As Logan began to lunge, Jean-Paul Beaubier lived the lesson that hyperfast reflexes did him no good when he was too horrified to act. Kitty Pryde screamed, and he shouted her name even as she became immaterial. He did not quite have time to process that the gleaming adamantium claws coming through her back had not harmed her.
No, surely Logan could not--! Not Kitty, who was like a daughter to him!
Too late, his attention was caught by the fist following the claws and the danger that meant for him. Too late to realise he must move as the terrible sharp tips pierced his flesh --
-- and then a mass of howling ice slammed into Logan from the side with all the finesse of a runaway freight train.
"Bobby!" was the name Jean-Paul screamed this time, seeing Logan pull his arm back as they tumbled. He darted forward to grab that arm, to stop the stabbing-punch, but Logan had the strength of madness fueling him.
Bobby coughed when the claws pierced his lung, and Jean-Paul pounded on Logan -- a hundred blows, a thousand -- until suddenly his fists were no longer connecting. He looked down to discover Kitty's arms clutching his waist; she had phased them both.
He looked up to see Bobby's grin as Logan found himself unable to pull free. Both sets of claws were buried now in the frozen mutant's chest. Jean-Paul could see through Bobby, see the metal in him. But Bobby had grabbed both of Logan's arms, encased them in ice that cracked and fell with Logan's struggles -- and grew anew, despite them.
"Jean-Paul, move!" Kitty ordered, and he took them up. Below, Logan and Bobby were engulfed by a huge mass of ice. It shifted and grew with gunshot cracks. From up here, Jean-Paul could see the dark blot that was Logan, like a fly in an ice cube. He saw him slow, then still.
He could see, also, the glistening path of the ice-slide Bobby had created, marking a clear line to the site of his collision with Logan. The trail was almost arrow-straight, swerving only slightly around obstacles.
He saw, and he wondered.
Kitty slipped free from his grasp like so much smoke, floating down to where the X-Men were gathering around the ice. He dropped as well, lightly landing beside Cyclops.
"Of course he's not dead," he heard Bobby's voice say. He turned and discovered the ice had a face, like someone had carved Bobby's likeness onto it, only thirty times larger than life. And the face spoke.
"Right now I'm keeping him busy with not freezing solid. He's got a little air, and barely enough room to breathe it. It's the best I can do to keep him contained." He sounded apologetic, and a bit strained underneath it. "Oh, and Hank -- you should take a look at this."
A protrusion formed out of the ice, pushing towards the blue-furred scientist as he stepped forward. There was something in it -- and then the protrusion opened somehow, and the whatever-it-was fell to the ground.
"He was holding it," Bobby said. Hank picked up the device, carefully.
"A teleporter-trigger, I think," he said after a moment. "Far more advanced than I've seen before, but unfortunately I do recognise the maker --"
Jean-Paul didn't hear the rest of what he said, because at that moment far too many teenagers dogpiled on him, gabbling with relief that he was still alive. He was also relieved to be alive, and so actually returned the hugs he was given -- at least until the shriek of "Oh my God, you're bleeding!" He was taken off to be bandaged, and missed much of the subsequent circus.
It was therefore quite some time before he managed to speak to Bobby.
*-*-*
Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones you don't fight with your fists.
Bobby lay sprawled in the melting wreckage of Wolverine's erstwhile prison, now that S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken him away to try to reverse the brainwashing. He was exhausted. Maintaining such a huge size, and such a strange shape, was bad enough -- but he'd been having to pay very close attention to his captive, keep him restrained enough but not too much, and talk. Hank and Scott had started it, then the Avengers had shown up and Captain freakin' America had questioned him. Just when he thought he was getting a respite in the form of Hank and the visiting costumed eggheads derailing everyone with Very Important Technobabble, S.H.I.E.L.D. had put in an appearance and quite literally interrogated him.
It was a good thing he performed well under pressure.
Emma interrupting with a report on Wolverine's mucked-with mind had also been helpful.
Hank had checked him over, but nothing of the wounds to his chest remained. Doctor's orders were to rest up and recover, but check in if anything seemed wrong. It would be really nice if he could rest. Not even sleep, necessarily, just not do anything for, oh, a month or so. He had the feeling, though, that there was about to be a big hunt on for the people behind this whole thing. He wasn't clear just who that was, but from things he'd heard so far they promised to be pretty nasty.
"I think you are supposed to move your limbs to make the snow angel, otter-pop."
If he'd had the energy, he would have made an ice replica of Warren on the spot, but as it was he just smiled.
"I'm not making a snow-anything right now if I can help it," he said, and cracked an eye open. "How are you feeling?"
Jean-Paul had had time to swap the bloodied top of his uniform for a loose pullover, but Bobby could see the faint bulge of the bandage on his chest.
Too close. Way, way too close.
"Physically? I have been much worse," Jean-Paul said with a shrug. He settled himself down beside Bobby, perching on a larger chunk of ice with his legs stretched out before him. Bobby tucked an arm under his head, the better to keep his face turned towards him.
"And other than that?"
"Other than that..." Jean-Paul plucked a smaller piece of ice off the ground to roll between his palms. "I feel many things. Anger at whomever is responsible for Logan's actions. Anger at him, as well. But for you -- I want to thank you." He met Bobby's eyes. "If not for you, I would be dead."
"It's what we do."
"Even so."
"Well, you're welcome, Jean-Paul. Besides, you've done the same for me, remember?"
They remained in companionable silence for a little while, and Bobby just felt very, very glad Jean-Paul was alive. He felt so relieved that he was nearly giddy, and he vaguely wondered if he should tell Hank about it.
"...There is another thing, Robert."
"Hm?"
"I am very curious about something. Perhaps you could tell me, how did you know it would happen?" Jean-Paul's tone was too deliberate, too quiet to be casual.
"What would happen?" Bobby asked, raising his eyebrows.
"The attack. Specifically, that Logan would pivot to that spot, that Kitty and I would have moved there." He set the now-melted-smooth ice down and steepled his fingers, gazing steadily at Bobby. "You see, I know how fast you go on that ice-slide of yours, my friend. You moved straight for that spot, but at the point where and when you began -- he was not there yet. I was not there yet. So, how did you know?"
"I didn't," Bobby said, but frowned, because it wasn't exactly true. He remembered being certain, knowing he had to be at that place in time to stop Wolverine. But he had no idea how he'd known, and that was more than a little worrisome.
"Huh." He squinted up at Jean-Paul. "I guess it was a hunch?"
"Are you asking me, or telling me?"
"I don't know. It's weird." He sat up. "I mean, I know I go on instinct a lot, but this -- I just knew." He held out his hand. "Help me up. I should tell Scott about this."
Jean-Paul's hand was chilled from the ice he'd been handling, but still warm compared to Bobby's. He pulled him to his feet, then steadied him with another hand on his shoulder.
"Hopefully, it's nothing bad. After all, you saved my life. You may have saved Logan, as well. The Avengers -- they had made an ambush."
"Well, we can hope," Bobby replied as they picked their way across the field. He still held onto Jean-Paul's hand, and he gave it a little squeeze. "Who knows, maybe your guardian angel put the idea in my head."
They smiled at each other -- and then Bobby stumbled, nearly falling before Jean-Paul caught him.
"Man, I am so freakin' tired." He yawned. "Thor gave me that 'you'd better not turn into an ice giant' look when he was here, y'know? But that kinda size has some serious drawbacks."
Jean-Paul wrinkled his nose. "But ice giants are so ugly."
"No, no, like Ymir, not those guys. Like a giant ice elemental, I guess. Ymir calls himself winter incarnate. Although he's not too pretty, either. And he's a real jerk. Why are you laughing? I'm serious!" But Bobby started chuckling, too. Jean-Paul just shook his head and tried to ruffle Bobby's hair.
"Ah, my otter-pop, never fear. We would lure you back with video games and baseball."
Bobby threw an arm around Jean-Paul's waist to keep steady during the assault on his head.
"Yeah, well," he said cheerfully, "I'll get you to tell Thor next time he gives me that look."
"Gladly."
As they made their way to the mansion, Bobby felt something in him relax. It had been a crappy night, but he couldn't help but feel cheerful about the future. He grinned up at Jean-Paul, who smiled warmly back at him.
Yeah. Things were looking up.
Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
speedsicle and also to frozen_breaths, since "Do Over" was cross-posted to them originally.
Minus all the angry editorial scribblings in the margins, of course.
It would be best if you've actually read "Do Over", but if you don't wanna, here's what you need to know: in Wolverine v.3 #25, a brainwashed Wolverine killed Jean-Paul Beaubier (Northstar). In this fic, when Bobby Drake (Iceman) died (whenever that will be), a higher power offered him the chance to go back and change one thing he'd done in his life, and relive things from that moment as they would have been if he'd done that the first go around, with no memory of the choice. Bobby chooses to save Jean-Paul.
All of this is in "Do Over", but here's what he did, what happened, and what happened next from an earlier version. I ultimately didn't go with this because it switches perspectives, and Jean-Paul wasn't as shaken by what happened as I wanted. It is, consequently, a lot more upbeat.
Title: Do Over: Deleted Scenes
It was a moment out of nightmare. As Logan began to lunge, Jean-Paul Beaubier lived the lesson that hyperfast reflexes did him no good when he was too horrified to act. Kitty Pryde screamed, and he shouted her name even as she became immaterial. He did not quite have time to process that the gleaming adamantium claws coming through her back had not harmed her.
No, surely Logan could not--! Not Kitty, who was like a daughter to him!
Too late, his attention was caught by the fist following the claws and the danger that meant for him. Too late to realise he must move as the terrible sharp tips pierced his flesh --
-- and then a mass of howling ice slammed into Logan from the side with all the finesse of a runaway freight train.
"Bobby!" was the name Jean-Paul screamed this time, seeing Logan pull his arm back as they tumbled. He darted forward to grab that arm, to stop the stabbing-punch, but Logan had the strength of madness fueling him.
Bobby coughed when the claws pierced his lung, and Jean-Paul pounded on Logan -- a hundred blows, a thousand -- until suddenly his fists were no longer connecting. He looked down to discover Kitty's arms clutching his waist; she had phased them both.
He looked up to see Bobby's grin as Logan found himself unable to pull free. Both sets of claws were buried now in the frozen mutant's chest. Jean-Paul could see through Bobby, see the metal in him. But Bobby had grabbed both of Logan's arms, encased them in ice that cracked and fell with Logan's struggles -- and grew anew, despite them.
"Jean-Paul, move!" Kitty ordered, and he took them up. Below, Logan and Bobby were engulfed by a huge mass of ice. It shifted and grew with gunshot cracks. From up here, Jean-Paul could see the dark blot that was Logan, like a fly in an ice cube. He saw him slow, then still.
He could see, also, the glistening path of the ice-slide Bobby had created, marking a clear line to the site of his collision with Logan. The trail was almost arrow-straight, swerving only slightly around obstacles.
He saw, and he wondered.
Kitty slipped free from his grasp like so much smoke, floating down to where the X-Men were gathering around the ice. He dropped as well, lightly landing beside Cyclops.
"Of course he's not dead," he heard Bobby's voice say. He turned and discovered the ice had a face, like someone had carved Bobby's likeness onto it, only thirty times larger than life. And the face spoke.
"Right now I'm keeping him busy with not freezing solid. He's got a little air, and barely enough room to breathe it. It's the best I can do to keep him contained." He sounded apologetic, and a bit strained underneath it. "Oh, and Hank -- you should take a look at this."
A protrusion formed out of the ice, pushing towards the blue-furred scientist as he stepped forward. There was something in it -- and then the protrusion opened somehow, and the whatever-it-was fell to the ground.
"He was holding it," Bobby said. Hank picked up the device, carefully.
"A teleporter-trigger, I think," he said after a moment. "Far more advanced than I've seen before, but unfortunately I do recognise the maker --"
Jean-Paul didn't hear the rest of what he said, because at that moment far too many teenagers dogpiled on him, gabbling with relief that he was still alive. He was also relieved to be alive, and so actually returned the hugs he was given -- at least until the shriek of "Oh my God, you're bleeding!" He was taken off to be bandaged, and missed much of the subsequent circus.
It was therefore quite some time before he managed to speak to Bobby.
Sometimes the hardest battles are the ones you don't fight with your fists.
Bobby lay sprawled in the melting wreckage of Wolverine's erstwhile prison, now that S.H.I.E.L.D. had taken him away to try to reverse the brainwashing. He was exhausted. Maintaining such a huge size, and such a strange shape, was bad enough -- but he'd been having to pay very close attention to his captive, keep him restrained enough but not too much, and talk. Hank and Scott had started it, then the Avengers had shown up and Captain freakin' America had questioned him. Just when he thought he was getting a respite in the form of Hank and the visiting costumed eggheads derailing everyone with Very Important Technobabble, S.H.I.E.L.D. had put in an appearance and quite literally interrogated him.
It was a good thing he performed well under pressure.
Emma interrupting with a report on Wolverine's mucked-with mind had also been helpful.
Hank had checked him over, but nothing of the wounds to his chest remained. Doctor's orders were to rest up and recover, but check in if anything seemed wrong. It would be really nice if he could rest. Not even sleep, necessarily, just not do anything for, oh, a month or so. He had the feeling, though, that there was about to be a big hunt on for the people behind this whole thing. He wasn't clear just who that was, but from things he'd heard so far they promised to be pretty nasty.
"I think you are supposed to move your limbs to make the snow angel, otter-pop."
If he'd had the energy, he would have made an ice replica of Warren on the spot, but as it was he just smiled.
"I'm not making a snow-anything right now if I can help it," he said, and cracked an eye open. "How are you feeling?"
Jean-Paul had had time to swap the bloodied top of his uniform for a loose pullover, but Bobby could see the faint bulge of the bandage on his chest.
Too close. Way, way too close.
"Physically? I have been much worse," Jean-Paul said with a shrug. He settled himself down beside Bobby, perching on a larger chunk of ice with his legs stretched out before him. Bobby tucked an arm under his head, the better to keep his face turned towards him.
"And other than that?"
"Other than that..." Jean-Paul plucked a smaller piece of ice off the ground to roll between his palms. "I feel many things. Anger at whomever is responsible for Logan's actions. Anger at him, as well. But for you -- I want to thank you." He met Bobby's eyes. "If not for you, I would be dead."
"It's what we do."
"Even so."
"Well, you're welcome, Jean-Paul. Besides, you've done the same for me, remember?"
They remained in companionable silence for a little while, and Bobby just felt very, very glad Jean-Paul was alive. He felt so relieved that he was nearly giddy, and he vaguely wondered if he should tell Hank about it.
"...There is another thing, Robert."
"Hm?"
"I am very curious about something. Perhaps you could tell me, how did you know it would happen?" Jean-Paul's tone was too deliberate, too quiet to be casual.
"What would happen?" Bobby asked, raising his eyebrows.
"The attack. Specifically, that Logan would pivot to that spot, that Kitty and I would have moved there." He set the now-melted-smooth ice down and steepled his fingers, gazing steadily at Bobby. "You see, I know how fast you go on that ice-slide of yours, my friend. You moved straight for that spot, but at the point where and when you began -- he was not there yet. I was not there yet. So, how did you know?"
"I didn't," Bobby said, but frowned, because it wasn't exactly true. He remembered being certain, knowing he had to be at that place in time to stop Wolverine. But he had no idea how he'd known, and that was more than a little worrisome.
"Huh." He squinted up at Jean-Paul. "I guess it was a hunch?"
"Are you asking me, or telling me?"
"I don't know. It's weird." He sat up. "I mean, I know I go on instinct a lot, but this -- I just knew." He held out his hand. "Help me up. I should tell Scott about this."
Jean-Paul's hand was chilled from the ice he'd been handling, but still warm compared to Bobby's. He pulled him to his feet, then steadied him with another hand on his shoulder.
"Hopefully, it's nothing bad. After all, you saved my life. You may have saved Logan, as well. The Avengers -- they had made an ambush."
"Well, we can hope," Bobby replied as they picked their way across the field. He still held onto Jean-Paul's hand, and he gave it a little squeeze. "Who knows, maybe your guardian angel put the idea in my head."
They smiled at each other -- and then Bobby stumbled, nearly falling before Jean-Paul caught him.
"Man, I am so freakin' tired." He yawned. "Thor gave me that 'you'd better not turn into an ice giant' look when he was here, y'know? But that kinda size has some serious drawbacks."
Jean-Paul wrinkled his nose. "But ice giants are so ugly."
"No, no, like Ymir, not those guys. Like a giant ice elemental, I guess. Ymir calls himself winter incarnate. Although he's not too pretty, either. And he's a real jerk. Why are you laughing? I'm serious!" But Bobby started chuckling, too. Jean-Paul just shook his head and tried to ruffle Bobby's hair.
"Ah, my otter-pop, never fear. We would lure you back with video games and baseball."
Bobby threw an arm around Jean-Paul's waist to keep steady during the assault on his head.
"Yeah, well," he said cheerfully, "I'll get you to tell Thor next time he gives me that look."
"Gladly."
As they made their way to the mansion, Bobby felt something in him relax. It had been a crappy night, but he couldn't help but feel cheerful about the future. He grinned up at Jean-Paul, who smiled warmly back at him.
Yeah. Things were looking up.
Cross-posted to
speedsicle and also to frozen_breaths, since "Do Over" was cross-posted to them originally.