HANDS

~ a one-shot by onelildustbunni ~

TITLE: Hands
STARRING: Hellion/X-23
UNIVERSE: 616
RATING: PG-13, beware a little gore (X-force comic level)
SUMMARY: Hellion's lost a part of him, and X-23, of all people, is going to help him find it. Short story dealing with recent Second Coming events, and inspired/based on X-23 #1.

Him.

Laura feels like crouching as she approaches the boy seated on the edge of the planter box, his face down turned. He is wearing yesterday's clothes, the clothes he wore at
the gathering on the previous night when she had seen him last. His eyes are half-lidded, and directed at his hands.

Rather, the lack of them.

Recently, there was an accident. An attack on Utopia. A red dome had bled over the sky slowly, like a drop of blood. Then the Nimrods had come. Dozens of Nimrods falling from
the sky like fatal meteors, and Laura had known she couldn't protect everyone. She couldn't protect anyone—alone she couldn't take one machine down, let alone the number
that had filled their sky. Their little private piece of hell.

Laura notes her usage of the word 'hell' in her internal description. She's seen a lot of that lately, in her dreams. Practically every time she closes her eyes, she sees Logan,
thumping his hands together, giving her a slow, conspiratorial grin. Beckoning her.

My right hand in hell.

Laura shakes herself slightly. Focus. She has to talk to him, to…explain, before something else happens. Before she is dragged down to hell by Wolverine. Before Cyclops orders
her to kill someone else, to kill herself, to maybe even kill her friends, for all she knows.

She stops about ten feet away. "Hellion."

He turns to look at her, frowns. He always looks a little lost now, a little displaced. As if he snaps back to earth when someone talks to him. "Oh. Hi."

"I wish to speak to you," she says, her voice wavering slightly. Is she really doing this?

This is something Laura has never done before—addressed emotions. Until recently—only six months ago—she was barely ready to acknowledge emotions existed, much less
know what to do with them—and now she is going to try to define so vague a term for the boy—about something she wasn't sure of herself. Her feelings, if that is what they are.

She notes that Julian has slipped what's left of his arms into his pockets, self-consciously.

"What's up?" he asks. Something's always up with Laura, she just never says anything unless him and his friends are in mortal danger and she thinks their ideas are stupid.

Laura's lips part, but she's too nervous. After a moment she moves and flops down beside him, a few inches away, knowing it will be easier if she is not watching his
reaction. Being scrutinized for body language. Normally Laura prefers body language…but right now, she needs to think with her brain so she can compose
her thoughts into a sentence.

What is she afraid of? That he will say no? She's not even asking him a question. She is informing him.

"This is difficult," she murmurs.

"Life's a bitch and then you die," Julian says coldly.

Laura does not comment, but she smiles slightly. This, too, has been her experience.

"Out with it," he orders. He's noticed she tends to respond better to direct commands.

"I wish to inform you that I…am…you are…I…" Laura takes a breath. "I do not find you offensive to my eyes."

There, it's out. The start of it, anyways. Laura knows she's worded it wrong. But she isn't done.

"Really?" Julian asks, showing no signs of amusement despite her awkward introduction of the topic.

"Yes," Laura mumbles, looking down. "I…have missed you," she adds.

"I miss you too," he says. "It's just not the same when we're not getting in trouble all the time. You know…together." A smile, briefly. "Or, y'know, when you're not kicking
my ass or something. I miss that."

Laura realizes she is holding her breath, and forces herself to release it, exhale. She wasn't sure if he meant his easy admission in the same way she did.

"So why're you covered in dirt stains?" he asks, mildly interested.

"I slept outside." Laura pauses. "I don't feel so…caged, that way."

Julian considers this. "I guess."

He looks at her now, then takes an arm out of his pocket and tries to brush a leaf out of her face with a non-existent hand. It's hanging right near the corner of her
eye; his stump brushes her eyelashes, and she blinks automatically. "Oh—jeez—I forgot. I'm sorry." He pulls away, his expression darkening like he's some kind of
storm cloud. "Look, maybe now…maybe I'm not—"

Laura debates, then decides this is more important than pain. She holds her left hand out in front of her; the claws on her right hand slide out
with a SNKKT. She grits her teeth; then she quickly, decisively severs her hand.

"Oh, GOD!" Julian starts away from her as the limb hits the concrete slab with a thump, his eyes wide. "What the HELL are you—"

"Showing you it does not matter. I have had my left hand cut off two times now, my right hand five times, and have lost my arms thirteen times, on a few occasions
both simultaneously." Laura holds his gaze; she should reattach her limb, but she has a few minutes. No more than two though.

Julian struggles. One part of him is completely repulsed and wants to run away from her as fast and as far as possible (maybe that's his instincts), the other part is touched
at the gesture. It's far more than any of the other kids have done for him, for example Celeste, whom—just last night—had innocently and completely humiliated him in
public by offering to feed him.

"Laura…" he says, then notes she hasn't moved. He picks up the hand with his mind (even though at the moment he'd give anything not to touch it). "Will it go back on?"

"Yes," Laura says. She's just sitting there, completely neutral, with a bleeding arm stump. Mentally he presses it back, and feels it suddenly lock in place, like
something is grabbing it from him. Her healing factor. The cut is just a thin red line, fading even now on her white skin.

"You're too much," he says.

Laura shifts. "I have…a confession." She is remembering something Kurt Wagner taught her. Her memory of the man had been jogged last night when she had
found Storm mourning him in a courtyard.

"A confession?" Julian parrots.

"Yes." Laura looks down. Now for the hardest part. "I would die for you," she mumbles, her eyes trained on the blood smeared on the ground. "I have died for you. And I have
killed for you. You are why I…joined X-force." She has received negative comments from the rest of their friends, and needs to clarify this, before she moves on.

Julian stiffens, completely, as if his spine has just locked in a straight position. "Laura…" he says again, in dismay. Many people on Utopia thought Laura had joined the
secret wet works squad because that was all she knew how to do. To kill.

Laura closes her eyes. "I love you," she says, her knuckles digging into the cement of the planter box they are sitting on. There, it's out. Whatever happens, will happen,
and she will not die—and he will not die—before she has had a chance to say something.

Silence. A bird twitters on a branch a distance away. Laura becomes aware of voices approaching and sighs. She can never get the boy alone for more than five
minutes. This is a possible reason as to why she has never really told him this before. Julian acts different around his friends, and Laura feels awkward around
the group of children who assume so readily but know so little about the world.

"Look who it is," a voice calls, as the group enters the courtyard. It's Nori speaking. The girl has made her opinion of Laura quite clear before; she doesn't need to hear
again how she is nothing but a pair of blood-thirsty claws, a predator, a psychopathic serial killer, a mass-murderer.

Fear is not the only reason Nori is becoming increasingly rude to Laura. There is competition; jealousy over Julian. Laura has known about the other girl's feelings towards
him since an incident at the mansion when she'd kissed him publically.

Laura stands up. "Good-bye, Hellion."

Julian opens his mouth, not knowing what to say. He hasn't had time to process what she'd said, and now some sort of decision was being forced on him.

"Wait—is that blood on the ground?" Nori demands, spotting the puddle.

"DRAMA!" Rockslide says, with the air of someone eating popcorn at a movie.

"Did she hurt you?" Nori is approaching him now, electricity crackling around her gauntlets. She looks like she's ready to release a thunderbolt on Laura.

"No! It's hers!" Julian snaps, standing up as well. "I can't believe you people. You sit on your asses all day, drinking beer and gossiping, while she goes out and makes it
safe for you to do so…and then you have the freakin' nerve to complain!"

"Wait—whoa—I sit on my ass all day? Really?" Surge puts her hands on her hips. "I was there the same as you when it was going down, man. And you know what she did
in the middle of it all? Disappeared! That's right! I think I can see the weak link here."

"Shut up," Julian warns.

"Make me," Surge answers. "You know I'm speaking the truth!"

"Laura?" Sooraya asks, noticing the girl is no longer present. Julian looks around too, then gives Surge the finger and takes off, in the direction he thinks his companion was headed.

"Oh yeah? Come back and fight me like a man, Keller!" Surge yells. Julian doesn't pay attention.

…

Julian doesn't find her right away, and he wanders around the beach after a while, lost in thought, arms jammed in his pockets. He feels more normal that way. Also, the
stubs itch like crazy sometimes, and he looks weird if he goes around scraping them against stuff.

He's very self-conscious.

What Laura she been trying to accomplish by telling him…that? It was a truckload of information—it was terrifying and curiosity-arousing at the same moment. He knows he's never
come as close to a girl since Sofia as he has with Laura. He thinks back to the Venezuelan girl, which feels like lifetimes ago. At least she had escaped what was to come.

How would Sofia had treated his…disability? Would she, like the others, have handled it awkwardly or not at all? He decides either she would have been amazing, or the
worst. Sofia's personality was always passionately an either/or on any topic.

Julian kicks at a rock on the sand, thinking. Brooding. What is he supposed to make of all this? Is Laura expecting him to reciprocate? Or to disagree? Or does she not even care?

He thinks of all the people he could go ask: Ms. Frost, Rogue, Cessily, even Mr. Summers. Each will have a different piece of advice for him that he can assemble however he wants.

Ms. Frost will tell him that Laura is dangerous, and not to get involved because she will be leaving soon.

Rogue will tell him that he's confused right now because he's had a lot happen to him recently—give it time, things will get better, and don't think that someone else is the
answer—because he's still a young kid.

Cessily will say, slowly, that she doesn't know if Laura can be trusted. She's concealed secrets from her team, she's hurt people. Who could guarantee that they were bad guys?

Mr. Summers will say that Laura is still figuring her own life out, and he should leave her alone and focus on his. Doesn't he have some arm-building physiotherapy exercises to be doing?

None of these are the answers Julian wants to hear. He decides to ask the girl herself.

…

"Hey," a voice says from above.

Laura looks up from the grass she's lying in, her hair sprawled around her, and partially in the air. The wind is stronger up here; it is rustling the trees, and leaves drift down
gently, and sometimes violently, if it's cool. Her cheeks are pink from the cold; her skirt waves like a flag, and the fur on her coat collar is ruffled as if stroked by invisible
fingers. She's on a hill, overlooking the sea; the highest point on Utopia.

A look-out point. She's waiting for the next shoe to drop.

Julian has woken her from her reoccurring dream. The river of blood. Death is her gift. Laura blows a leaf out of her face, looking up at the boy groggily, fingering a
clover stem. There is a patch near her head.

"Hi," she mumbles.

He stands for a while, his arms in his pockets. "I thought about what you said."

Laura says nothing. She watches him through half-lidded eyes, her lips parted slightly. She could still be asleep. Sometimes she has dreams in which Julian wants to talk to her.

"I need to know what you're expecting from me." Julian doesn't phrase this as a question. He stands, shoulders hunched as he shivers lightly. He doesn't have a jacket,
only a red cotton t-shirt with a black X logo, and beat-up jeans.

Laura knows what he means. "Nothing," she says, with the appearance of surprise.

Julian frowns. "Why did you tell me then?"

She takes a few moments, looking out across the water. "The threat of termination is high. I needed to…inform you…before the sky opens again, and a new enemy comes."

"That's pretty grim," he says. He hesitates, then moves closer her and sinks down to his knees, very uncertain. "You know I like you too?" he asks, his eyes very wide and earnest.

"Yes." Laura notices she is forgetting to breathe, again. She does that a lot around him.

"You're my best friend," he says suddenly, surprising both of them. "I mean—fuck—everyone I considered a real buddy before kinda couldn't handle the whole…thing with me
getting hurt. I can barely talk to them anymore without them patronizing me. When we do talk, all they can see is the stumps."

He says the last word harshly. Laura listens, her face impassive. In a way, she endures the same treatment from the other kids; she too is ostracized both unintentionally and purposely.

"What if we ruin what we have?" he asks.

Laura's lips part. " I do not know," she says.

Julian considers. He's at a crossroads: either he can get up, walk down the hill, back to his friends for tonight's outdoor grill. Shoulder Celeste's hurt glares and Nori's quick, furtive
glances, and wish he was elsewhere because he and them—all of them—don't connect anymore.

His other option is lying in front of him, expecting nothing but willing to give him everything in return, probably including her life—since she never says things she doesn't mean—and she
has told him she would die for him. He glances down, notices his arms are out of his pockets.

Julian leans forward. Laura is frozen like a statue, and when he touches her she doesn't move. He presses his lips against hers lightly, more informing her of a choice rather than trying
to put a move on her; a while later however they part, out of breath and with swollen mouths.

They share a small smile, then lay under the tree until they fall asleep.

…

Julian can't believe what he's reading. A few minutes ago, Laura had opened a story book—a hardcover version of Pinocchio—and had withdrawn two folded sheaves of paper. One was
almost pure red; the other was regular lined letter paper.

"I wish for you to read this," she had murmured, a little shyly, indicating the sheaf of lined paper. They were sitting on the hill top, backs against the tree, remnants of food nearby.

Please forgive me. Even as I write the words they ring so hollow… he'd started to read. When he'd finished, they'd talked a little about her past, Julian trying to remind himself that it had all
happened already, and most of the people responsible were dead. He could only make sure he carried on her mother's wishes to give her a normal life, and try to protect her if
Kimura ever showed her face again.

He was still angry.

…

"There," Julian says, some months later, as he shows the girl the empty closet space. "That's yours."

"It's more than I require," Laura says.

"Well, I don't have much of my own stuff."

They have recently acquired a shared room in the dorms, having found it abandoned after a recent bio-weapon attack on Utopia. Several people had died. The inhabitants of this
room had run away, and on his way back from the infirmary with a newly-acquired set of stitches on his chest, Julian had spotted this space and quickly claimed it. There were
people sleeping in the Rec Room and other public areas at the moment, since a bombing had destroyed two dorm buildings. Rooms were rare these days.

Laura sets a hair brush down on the metal cabinet that serves as a bureau. It has a mirror on the top.

"Are you certain this is a good idea?" she asks suddenly. "Living together."

"It's the best idea I've had in a long time," he says confidently. "We pretty much do it anyways. Unless you don't want other people to know?"

"I don't care," Laura says, and he stops to enjoy the fact that when she says it, she means it. "My concern is for your safety. Should Kimura find us here…" She's told Julian about being
abducted by her handler again, shortly after killing the woman responsible for his legacy virus ordeal. This story had made him so angry that he'd confronted Cyclops and tried to punch
him with his handless arm, an action that had ended with him lying in bed on morphine for a few days.

"Then we deal with her. I doubt she'd try attacking a whole island full of X-men, and it's not like she can just knock on the door and ask for you."

Laura looks like she wants to argue that point. Julian knows she's thinking about people like Surge, and the Stepford Cuckoos. Even Rockslide. He wonders himself if his friend
would sell her out under pain.

"Is there anything else?" he asks. Laura says nothing; he takes her hands in his—his real hands, restored through a variety of circumstances—and fixes her with a
direct look. He knows this will extract the truth from her about as fast as orange juice from an orange.

Laura squirms slightly, looks down. "I do not know what you…expect of me."

She's talking about intimacy. So far, they've only gone a little past first base. When he had try to press it further—once—she had told him about what she'd done before.

She'd been a prostitute.

This had been hard for Julian to handle; despite knowing she was healthy, he'd kept feeling unclean for a while. But she'd also explained why she'd allowed a pimp to control her, and
after the little she had shared with him on the facility (letting him read her mother's letter), he sort of understood. Even with the X-men this pattern had occurred somewhat, as
she let Cyclops use her like a weapon.

Julian has gotten a lot of ridicule from others for dating what they viewed to be just that—a weapon. Some even go as far as to ask him how the H-bomb is, or if he's been
polishing his rifle. He's gotten in trouble a few times for fighting; just because he can't punch with his arms without mind-numbing pain, doesn't mean he can't punch. He's
developed lots of things with his telekinesis in recent months.

Ultimately, Julian had not pushed her to do anything she was uncomfortable with, and had restrained himself quite nicely, even as she'd grown bolder.

"I don't expect you to do anything you're not ready for," he says, stroking her cheek with his thumb. During an attack by the remaining free Predator X, he'd had both his arms
torn off at the shoulders and eaten—an extremely terrifying experience that he'd barely made it through, sanity intact. Elixir had been there to heal him—through the pain he'd
seen Laura in the background, her eyes full of the same fear for him—and after a few minutes of this, to his relief, arms began to grow in place of his lost ones.

Whole arms, with hands. When Elixir had finished, Julian had been uncertain of what to do with them.

After he'd gotten his hands back, he found himself almost missing their lack. And also finding he didn't regret the experience at all. He realizes he probably would have missed
what was right under his nose if it hadn't happened. "We'll just do things the way we normally do."

They've been sleeping together since the first day, by unspoken agreement finding more peaceful rest when holding each other. Julian has done a lot of sleeping outside, something
he's also been teased for. That part didn't really bother him; he understood why others thought it was odd, but it was something Laura needed to do sometimes, and he didn't really
mind it (although when he found she favored the hill, he'd stored a pillow and a blanket in the hollow tree trunk—which he usually woke up to Laura hogging quite happily in her
sleep). He'd noted this affinity to the outdoors occurred more when she was having her period.

"Okay," Laura says. She hesitates. "Do you want more?"

"When you do," he says. He's still working with her on the idea that it's a mutual thing—that she doesn't need to give in to what she doesn't want.

"Okay," Laura says again. She smiles slightly, still uneasily; he knows she won't relax until she can see by his actions that he won't press the issue. He puts his hands on her waist
and gives her a small kiss. "Let's go." They have practice at four, and it's 3:45 now.

He takes her hand—he's all about hands now, with her—and heads for the door. They are already dressed in uniform.

"Wait," Laura says, in the hallway. She's been debating whether or not to inform him; finally, remembering her fear of dying with things left unsaid, she acquiesces.

"I should tell you…" She tilts her head. "I want more."

Julian stops. "Really?"

"Yes."

"You're not just saying that?"

"No."

"Fuck practice," he says, turning around and pulling her back towards their room.

"We have to go," Laura protests.

"If I go, I seriously won't remember how to fight. It'd be a wasted session." Their door opens; he pulls her inside. "You really, really, really think you're ready?"

"Yes," Laura says.

They spend the afternoon practicing something else entirely, and he's pretty glad he has his hands back.