Present For/Prompt: kayscloset | How Gray got that bomb there
Word Count: 1000
Copyright: Title is from Song 2 by Blur
Summary: Gray just grins, like he knows better than you do. It’s entirely probable that he does.
Author’s Notes: Once again in 2nd person as I always feel awkward about calling him Johnin fics that are from his POV. Weirdly, I don’t have that problem with Jack, but what the hell. Mild spoilers for the John & Gray episodes of S2. Although any inaccuracies (and I’m sure there are some) come from the fact that I will not watch End Of Days again. I’m just not there yet.
“Why did you come to find me?” Gray asks.
You sigh. You’re beginning to suspect that you’ve been slightly stupid, seeing as how selflessness was never your strong point.
So you don’t dignify him with an answer. Gray just grins, like he knows better than you do. It’s entirely probable that he does.
His brother was mentioned, of course. Spend five years with a man in a world that doesn’t change and there’s bugger all on television, and you come to learn everything that there is to know about him, including the things you shouldn’t know and the things he never meant to tell.
Maybe that’s why you’ve been avoiding each other, or at least, maybe that’s why he’s been avoiding you.
My brother, he would murmur on drunken nights. Gray. I let him get taken…I can’t find him.
Your heart never bled for him and you never promised to help but you didn’t forget either.
Gray only ever refers to your former partner as my brother, or just plain him. That’s fine, although it does irritate you that you still don’t know his real name. One last unsolvable mystery.
You look at Gray, and he looks the worst kind of destroyed. Physically and psychologically, he is a wreck. And with your career being as varied as it has been, you’ve seen people in all kinds of states. Gray’s condition should be familiar, but it isn’t. It’s worse.
You won’t let yourself be afraid of him, but a lesser man would be.
“So he still looks for me?”
It’s another evening; you and Gray live in a little town in the Lycrade galaxy. It’s not too populated and they have bloody good booze. Somewhere quiet while you both try and work out what the hell happened.
“Talked about you all the time,” you reply as easily as you can.
Gray smiles, or at least, his lips curl, which really isn’t the same thing but then the man has been tortured for the last decade and a half.
Your stomach twists.
You’re itching to be somewhere – anywhere – else; the Time Agency gives people wanderlust on top of all the neuroses, terrible habits (like killing people for the hell of it), and addictions.
You should have handed in your notice forever ago.
Staying in one place reminds you way too much of rehab, and you’ve been there and done that and fallen straight back off the wagon again so fast you were barely out of the doors.
For Gray’s sake you put up with it. For the moment.
For lack of anything else to do, you get Gray drunk. Not very drunk, not the kind of drunk that you used to get when you and him were rampaging around the universe fucking things up and fucking each other and generally having all kinds of good, unclean fun. But kind of drunk, because he doesn’t sleep at nights and his unblinking stare is getting a little creepy and really the man needs to get introduced to substance abuse and quickly.
“What do you plan on doing with me?” he asks eventually, pupils dilated and hands shaking.
You shrug; thinking things through has never been your strong point.
His eyes narrow, calculating, and you remind yourself that you could still kill him, if it came to it. For some reason, you need the reassurance.
Gray tries to kiss you one afternoon.
“Do I remind you of my brother?” he asks, when you push him away.
(This is a first. You have never refused anything before. It’s part of the reason you’re stuck here.)
“You do,” you reply, “And I try to avoid shagging anything in the same family after that time with the aunt and the almost-castration.” You grimace.
Gray laughs. “You’re a liar,” he responds, voice light. “And you will give in, sooner or later.”
“I won’t.” You sigh; uncomfortably aware that Gray has started showing a semblance of lucidity and strength and you don’t like it.
“You want it,” he breathes. “Of course you’ll give in.”
You sort of wish you had some morals, but you don’t so there’s no point in pretending now.
A week later – a week in which Gray spends a little too much time on computer terminals and you drink a lot because there’s fuck all else to do around here – you end up shagging Gray.
It’s sort of unintentional, but he’s laughing and slightly innocent but for the nasty calculating set to his mouth, and the sex is pretty bad. Not awful, because even under all the trauma and the exhaustion and the scarring he’s still got the 51st Century pheromones that worked so well for his brother. But it’s not great, and you get the feeling you’re going to regret it when you’re sober.
(Only you have no idea.)
When you wake up, the world feels distinctly blurry, and you’re not sure where Gray is but you’ve decided enough is bloody well enough and you’re leaving.
…But there’s something wrong with your wristband.
“Oh, that.” Gray’s voice is steady, calm, and edged with ice. “That’s an explosive device, and if you don’t do what I want I’ll detonate it, ok?”
You sort of miss the three days when he was traumatised into silence and he just sat and watched you warily.
“This is why I don’t help people,” you sigh.
Gray grins; it’s horrific. “I know why you came to find me.”
“I don’t know why I came to find you,” you protest.
He laughs. “You love him,” he responds.
Your fingers are scrabbling desperately over the bomb your arm; but you’re stuck.
“You love my brother,” Gray repeats gleefully. “And that’s fine. Because we’re going to find him.”
You really don’t like his tone.
“We’re going to find him. And then you’re going to help me pull his world to pieces. And then we’re going to kill him.”
You say nothing, and in cold horror reflect that you really should’ve thought this through.