Title: Expectations
Author/pseudonym: JillyW
Rating: G
Status: Complete.
Spoilers: No Man Left Behind
Disclaimers: Sadly, none of the Mutant X team belong to me. I've just borrowed them briefly from their owners, Marvel Studios, Tribune Entertainment Company, Canwest Entertainment and Fireworks Entertainment, and promise to put them back exactly (well, almost, particularly in Jesse's case!) as I found them. No profit is being made from these stories and I don't have anything worth suing for...
The dialog belongs to David L Newman, the episode’s writer, but the rest came straight out of my brand new Jesse-muse’s head – so please blame him for everything. I do
Notes: Another ‘No Man Left Behind’ fic – what can I say, it’s one of my favourite episodes. So much happening, so little explained <sigh> Anyway, this is just my take on what was going through Jess’s head during that key scene just before the end...
As ever, thanks to Chya for being there...
Summary: A 'No Man Left Behind' ficlet - a Jesse POV on that key scene just before the end
EXPECTATIONS
By JillyW
“Jesse, you have to phase the Helix!”
What? No, how could you know I was just thinking about that? Nononononono, that’s not fair, get out of my head, Emma! But if you’re reading me, you’ll know that it’s not possible, that... “I can’t do that!”
“But we don’t have any other choice, just do it!”
You can’t seriously expect... there has to be another choice, another way out of this, just let me think...
“You can try!”
But, Shal, I don’t...
“Jesse, you have to, you don’t have a choice!”
Not you too, Brennan! Give me a moment, OK? There’s got to be something we can try...
“They’re getting closer...”
Think, Jesse, think! Something... anything, anything but that!
“Come on, Jesse, please!”
No, you don’t know what you’re asking, the effort it would take, the pain... And worse, the risk – because if I can’t do this, if I can’t meet this challenge that’s so way bigger and more complex than anything I’ve even contemplated attempting before, you’ll all die. And it will be my fault. My failure.
“Jess, come on!”
Please, don’t do this...
“Come on, Jess!”
...don’t lay this on me, not when you know I know you’re right, that I really don’t have a choice...
“Jesse...”
...not when you know that I’ll do what I always do, like the good little boy I am...
“Do it!!”
...that - regardless of what I want, what I need, what I’m feeling - I’ll do as I’m told... I’ll do my duty.
You don’t know how tough it is, though, this thing I do that you all take for granted, this new trick that lets you walk through solid objects without ever having to experience the hurting or the dread of having to breathe at the wrong moment, being trapped inside forever, trapping one of you... Or losing this long fought for, hard won control and being spread so thin your molecules can never find their way back together again...
And I don’t really know where to begin and there’s no time to even think about what it’s going to take to phase not only the Helix but you all as well. Flesh and blood like me, but not like me, and that scares me more than anything because I’ve never tried phasing a living breathing person, and if I get it wrong there’ll be nothing to stop you dropping straight down 10,000 feet...
“Come on, brother.”
I’m trying, dammit! But the plane’s too big, too unfamiliar, too many elements and components I’ve never come across. And there’s so much at stake, and I have nothing to refer to, no experience to call on, too little practice with too few variables, no real idea of how much of myself I’m going to have to let go to make this happen... how hard it’s going to be to pull everything back afterwards.
Kind of inevitable, then, that I fail this time. As I knew I would, as I tried to tell them...
“Come on!”
Yeah, like shouting at me’s going to help. Thought you, at least, might understand, Shal.
But there’s very little time left now, I can see that in Emma’s eyes as she looks at me, whispering, “Come on, Jesse ...”
No more room for misgivings, then, no room for this destructive lack of self belief. Because that way they’re already dead. So, a final effort, a final emptying of lungs until my chest feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. A grip so tight on the metal struts I’ve chosen as conduits that my fingers practically leave indents in them. A conscious release of everything that holds me together, blotting out the fear with a roar of defiance, trying to ignore the agony that rips through me, tearing me apart piece by piece, molecule by molecule, focussing on everything I can feel around me in a desperate leap into the unknown.
And somehow it’s working! I can feel the unfamiliar become the familiar, the unknown become perfectly clear, the distant become intimately close. Somehow I’m doing this thing that I knew I couldn’t do, but it’s so damn hard, the pain driving deep into every part of me, my lungs threatening to implode if I don’t take a breath, but I mustn’t and oh, God, it hurts!
And suddenly the missile is there, flying in what looks like slow motion through the middle of the plane, and it looks so weird. Brennan ducks, which he didn’t need to do – he obviously doesn’t realise he’s phased too, and I can’t believe I actually did that, despite the evidence, and I want to laugh and cry, but I can’t, not yet, got to keep concentrating...
...until the thing flies through the windscreen, and it’s time to get control again, to take back that which I’ve been sharing with my surroundings, make it mine again.
A single deliberate breath and it all snaps violently into place again with a final agonising assault that drives me to my knees, groaning and gasping for air. But I know we aren’t out of danger yet, so I push myself to aching, shaking legs, using the back of my seat to haul myself round to its welcoming support.
“Is that what it feels like when you phase?”
Oh, Shal, if only you knew. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially you. What you got was only a part of it, the comparatively easy part, the rush. You don’t want to know about the rest, believe me... But at least you’ve begun to see it a bit differently, started to realize...
I still hurt. Every muscle, every joint, every fibre of my being is screaming of abuse and over-use, my clothes drenched with sweat, my head pounding. This was almost too much and... “I don’t think I could do that again.”
“Well, you may not have to...”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard Brennan say anything so sweet. But I can’t really relax until the enemy has finally gone, the skies empty, our route home clear. Then, too tired for anything more, too mentally drained, too physically spent, too sore to even move, I can let the world take care of itself for a while. Because, despite my insecurities, my fears, my uncertainties about my place in this team, my ability to make a difference, I came through when it mattered, kept us all alive to fight another day.
And it’s only the smallest of voices as I drift away into welcome oblivion that points out that not one of them, apart from the outsider Captain Morrison, had offered a single word of praise or thanks...
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