FIC: Bias

[ficwize]

Title: Bias
Author: wizefics
Fandom: X-Men Comics: Original Team (Written as a reaction to a scene in Marvels, which technically isn't an X-men title, but certainly featured early years X-men.)
Characters: Scott, Bobby
Prompt: 133. bias at tamingthemuse
Rating: Gen
Warnings: Some bad language
Summary: Phil Sheldon threw a brick at the mutant he saw on the street and had to live with himself afterward. Eventually, it changed his whole perception of mutants. But what happened to the mutant hit upside the head with the brick? This is fallout fic, pure and simple, because I wanted to know.
Disclaimer: I don't own X-men (but I wish I did) and I don't make money doing this (but I wish I did).
A/N: Thanks to milleniumrex for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.

As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated!

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A noise in the kitchen caught Scott's attention when he was halfway to the stairs and he backtracked and stuck his head in curiously. Bobby sat slumped in a chair, a half melted bowl of ice cream forgotten in front of him and, ironically, an ice pack sat off to the side.

"Bobby?" The younger mutant startled, eyes darting up to look at Scott in alarm before he managed a stilted smile.

"Sorry. I thought everyone else was asleep."

Scott shrugged and went into the kitchen and pulled out a chair. Settling down, he leaned back, long legs pushing the chair onto the back two feet as he studied Bobby. "I was heading to bed. I just finished writing up our mission tonight. Is something wrong?"

"No." Bobby glanced back down at his ice cream. "Everything is just fucking dandy."

"I can tell." Scott grinned. "Wanna tell me about it?"

Bobby's mouth twisted into a grimace, making the purple bruise on his forehead stand out more sharply. "You were there, Scott. I'd think you'd remember."

"I do remember." Scott shrugged. "Mission successful."

"I guess," Bobby turned back to his ice cream. Scott waited patiently while his younger teammate worked through his thoughts. Finally, Bobby looked up and sighed. "We saved the man who fell off the construction site."

Scott sobered. He leaned forward, the chair legs hitting the floor with a thunk. "I know."

"They thought we were trying to kill him." Bobby's voice was tight, the anger and fear barely hidden under a façade of control. "I heard someone screaming that I'd tried to ram him into a brick wall." Bobby picked up the spoon and twisted it through the remnants of two scoops of chocolate.

"You saved him." Scott spoke quietly. "If you hadn't put that slide up in the right place at the right time, he'd have died."

"Yeah." Bobby searched Scott's face, his own eyes haunted. "And I took a brick to the head as thanks." He dropped the spoon, and gripped his hands together.

"Is that what the ice pack was for?" Scott reached over and flicked it with his fingers. Bobby followed the motion with his eyes and smiled sheepishly.

"I forgot that this wouldn't do much good. Old habits, you know?"

"Sometimes, I still reach up to rub my eyes." Scott confided, exchanging one of his secret's for one of Bobby's. "I forget that my glasses are in the way."

"Yeah." Bobby sighed, and Scott echoed it. The two boys sat in silence, listening to the clock tick by the seconds. "You were right," Bobby spoke quietly.

"Right about what?"

"Right to stop me from getting angry. Right to hold me back when I was going to retaliate. It wouldn't have done any good; I'd just have convinced them they should hate mutants."

This time Scott frowned. "It didn't make it any easier."

"What do you mean?"

Scott smiled bitterly. "Do you really think I wanted to tell you to let that man alone after he hit you with a brick? I was half tempted to blast some manners into him myself."

"You were?"

"You're dense at times, you know that?" Scott leaned across the table and tapped Bobby on the forehead with his forefinger. "Or did you take a harder hit than I thought? Of course I was tempted! Believe it or not, you're more than just a team mate, Bobby. You're one of my closest friends."

Bobby swallowed, one hand rubbing absently at his forehead. "I just don't understand. Why do they hate us so much? They like Captain America. Hell, they all love Captain America! How is he so different? Or Giant Man? Spiderman? What about the Fantastic Four? Everyone in the world loves the Human Torch. Sue and Reed's wedding was practically a national holiday." Bobby held up one hand, watching dispassionately as it iced over. "And yet they'd just as soon throw bricks at me as look at me."

Scott looked at Bobby thoughtfully. "Is this really about tonight, Bobby? Or is it about what happened to you at home?"

Bobby laughed, a hollow dead sound that gave Scott the creeps. Bobby laughed more than any person Scott had ever known, and it was usually the sign that some prank had gone well, or some joke had found a punch line. This was a desperate sound that was a razor's edge from being a sob.

"Everywhere I go, there are mobs to greet me. Some have bricks, some have iron pipes, some have ropes, but the message is the same. Freak. Mutie. Die, you bastard!"

Scott reached over the table and grabbed Bobby's hand with his own. "Don't."

"Why not?" Bobby pulled free and stood up. He moved under the light and Scott could see the bruise on his forehead, dark purple, with a green and yellow outline.

Scott stood up, too, and moved around the table so that he stood next to Bobby. Gently, he reached out and took the younger teen by the shoulders. "Because they aren't worth it, Bobby. They aren't. They aren't worth you tearing yourself to shreds over, and they aren't worth you doing things you'll never forgive yourself for. They're stupid, and prejudiced, and biased. They are all of those things. But they aren't worth one of you!."

"Sometimes, Scott, I don't know why I do this, the whole X-men thing." Bobby sighed.

"I can give you three reasons." Scott spoke without hesitation. "Hank. Warren. Jean."

Finally, Bobby smiled a real smile. "Not you?"

"You do it just to keep me from griping at you, maybe." Scott smiled back, his fingers squeezing Bobby's shoulders for a second before he let go.

"Scott, why do you do it?" Bobby asked, curiously, half reaching to catch Scott before he moved away and then dropping his hand self-consciously.

"For those three reasons, mostly." Scott smiled. "And for a fourth reason."

Bobby stared at him, his expression almost as unreadable as it was when he was covered in ice. "Is it worth it?"

Scott hesitated and then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "I hope so. I hope it will be someday."

"What day?"

"The day when someone looks at you and doesn't throw a brick."

Bobby chuckled. "As long as your wishing, can you add one that someday a really hot chick looks at me and says, "Damn, he's good looking!'?"

"I wish for a brighter future, Bobby, not the impossible."

"Ass."

"You're welcome." Scott left the kitchen with a softly suppressed sigh. It was worth it. He hoped.