Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Julio should’ve protested more when Jamie sent him to Ireland of all places.

Of course, he’d argued. Why couldn’t Terry go? She was an Irish citizen!

“You know flights have been restricted for mutants recently. And she can’t fly across the whole Atlantic without resting,” had been Jamie’s logical reply. Except he punctuated it with his arms crossed and a single finger held up like an idiot. Julio wanted to punch him for how condescending he looked.

Ever helpful, Julio shot right back, “I can’t fly. I’m a wanted terrorist in Mexico. And in the U.S.”

The latter was a lie. Mostly. He was definitely on a watch-list after joining X-Force, but when he lost his powers he scrubbed himself from most American databases that labeled him as a terrorist. Unfortunately, a lot more than a few online lists had his face memorized in Mexico and sported a grudge worse than a no-fly ban. But he’d ensured he was supposedly safe to fly in the U.S. when it came down to it. After all, now he was an ex-mutant with no visible remnants. He was a happy, completely normal homo sapien!

Jamie leveled Julio an unimpressed stare. So he took the ticket handed to him and was on a flight to Dublin a day later.

Why Jamie thought a suspicious e-mail promising a cloistered man in backwater Ireland could help them solve their latest case was beyond Julio. Much less that he thought Julio wasn’t about to get sacked and murdered in a foreign country just for some information on a missing person case. Right, send the least useful member of X-Factor! No big deal if they lost him, right?

Julio kicked at another rock. He’d gotten off a bus, then transferred to a taxi, and now spent a good few hours walking in a half-deserted area between forests. Truly, in the middle of no-where Ireland. The last sign he’d passed to tell him he was going vaguely in the right direction was thirty minutes behind him.

He rounded a strangely shaped rock in the middle of the pathway he’d been stumbling down. The instructions from the e-mail said to circle it clockwise at least three times, but fuck if he was going to do anything as weird as that. Just once was good enough, mostly because he had to take a left at the junction anyways.

Another five minutes down the path, and the printout of the e-mail promised a house. Somehow, it didn’t lie.

The thing looked straight out of The Hobbit, a little hovel built half into the ground with a thatched roof sticking out above the door. Wooden planks of varying sizes made up the walls. The only thing that kept it from giving horror-movie vibes was the organized sprouts of flowers across the front and the shoddily gated pasture next to it that appeared to be a garden of some kind.

If Julio was going to die, it would be to a witch in the woods. He should’ve prepared a speech about how bad he’d taste in a soup.

His knocks on the door echoed several times more than they should have. Like the inside was larger than the outside betrayed. Chancing a glance through the windows revealed nothing — plush green curtains were drawn closed.

No one answered.

Julio sighed, looked at the printed e-mail again, and then proceeded to knock the convoluted sequence spelled out near the bottom. Two quick raps, a pause, pound on the door with the side of his fist three times, immediately followed by another two raps, and then kicking the door.

It was almost like a humiliation ritual at that point.

Just as Julio went to kick the door, probably harder than the author intended, the door swung open. Julio barely managed from to stop himself from kicking right into the awaiting man’s shin.

In retrospect, he probably should have let it connect. Before him stood a man draped in a cacophony of greens and browns, woven cotton fabrics and pelts of animals Julio didn’t want to name. Paint swirled across half his face, his hair hidden beneath a hood where a set of antlers stuck out dramatically, wide enough that Julio doubted the man could even walk through the doorway. He was also older, dramatically leaning to one side on a short staff of some kind.

Yep, definitely a witch in the woods. Or whatever the male equivalent was.

Julio stared for a good, long while. Not every day he ran into someone dressed like they were from Lord of the Rings outside of a comic convention.

The staring, evidently, prompted the old man to speak first, accent thick. “You’re from X-Factor Investigations?”

“Uh. Yeah.” Julio shifted from foot to foot. At least he knew he was at the right place. “You were Mister…?”

Julio wasn’t even going to try the pronunciation. They really should’ve sent Terry in his stead.

The man nodded without giving his name.

Julio was absolutely about to be murdered.

“Come in! Is there anything y’want? A cup of tea?” The man opened the door wider, beckoning Julio inside. Julio did have to give him some credit — the interior was just as quaint as the outside, a cozy cottage inside for all intents and purposes.

Except for the giant dirt hole in the floor. That was a distraction.

Several steps in, a yawning pit sat in the middle of the floor. The wooden floorboards dramatically cut off, vines crawling from the hole to smooth out the jagged ends. Nothing sat particularly close to the drop-off except a coatrack, adorned with more pelts and capes.

Julio stared down into the hole on instinct, a fluttery feeling in his stomach when he realized he couldn’t see the bottom. He stepped away from the edge, careful of the other man’s movements in case he decided to shove Julio in as a sacrifice next.

“No, I’m fine.” Julio desperately wanted to drain a bottle of water, but he wasn’t taking chances. He wasn’t about to fall for being drugged on top of it all. “Is there a reason I had to come all the way out here?”

“I’m no good with technology.” Cups clinked as the man prepared drinks despite Julio’s answer. “Had my neighbour send that e-mail.”

“And is there a reason why you couldn’t tell your neighbor to e-mail your information too?”

The man turned around, amused smile on his face with two cups in his hand. “Impatient lad, aren’t you?”

“Your house has a sinkhole in the middle of it. Kind of unnerving.”

“It’s not a sinkhole. My actual home is down the hole.”

Julio glanced back to the entrance, finding the door safely shut but unlocked. Did he step into some kind of different dimension? He dealt with enough of that shit in the New Mutants, he wasn’t keen to deal with fantasy rules again. Even if Julio wagered being in a hobbit’s house probably wasn’t a death sentence.

“Listen, I mean to be an asshole. Because I’m tired, jetlagged, and this is weird as hell.” Julio’s hand went to his waist, fingers faltering when the gun he’d taken to carrying was conspicuously missing. Damn airport and Irish laws. “What was the information you had?”

The man frowned, like Julio’s hostility was unwarranted. It made Julio hesitate, for just one second, while the man set the drinks back down with a delicate hand.

Finally, he turned back. “The person you are looking for isn’t missing. She is safe and left her family of her own volition. She did not belong with them.”

Fuck, why did Jamie have to make him deal with the crazy religious shit?

“Oh so you’re in a cult. This is a cult thing,” Julio deadpanned.

“You’re a chipper one.”

“Listen, my team knows exactly where I am. So you tell me where the girl is and—”

“I had every intention do so until I opened my door.” The man’s head cocked, blatantly eyeing Julio up and down. “You’re an interesting one for them to send.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Julio bristled. If they were a racist cult to top it all off, he was really going to give Jamie a piece of his mind.

But rather than spit vitriol, the man merely smiled, warm and inviting. He gestured down to the hole, and then back to Julio, like that meant something. “You are one of the Earth’s children.”

A pit dropped in Julio’s stomach, a cavern he hadn’t been willing to open since he nearly jumped off a building a few weeks ago. His throat closed, jaw working to find words. Was this an elaborate plot? Was someone fucking with X-Factor and digging up Julio’s background to do it?

“What?” he finally settled on, rage simmering.

“The Earth. She aches to have you pay attention.”

Again, Julio reached for his gun. He cursed when his fingers met empty air.

“How the hell do you know that?” The Earth hadn’t done jack since M-Day. Her presence disappeared the second it happened. What did a random man in the woods know? “I can’t move the Earth anymore. That’s gone. I was part of the decimation.”

Julio’s hands balled into fists while the old man’s smile dropped, replaced with a bewildered frown. Again, his gaze flicked from Julio to the ground, like he was tracking something. “That’s odd. You still have a tether.”

Again, stumped by the unexpected response, Julio repeated, “What?”

“I can see chaos magic severed one tether, but you have another. It’s frayed, unused, but there. I assume the other was related to being a mutant, yes? Witchblood?” The other didn’t wait for an answer, nodding to himself. “We could strengthen the remaining one, if you’d like. You are one of us, weak tether or not. It’s simply atrophied from disuse.”

Chaos magic? Julio would have to relay that one to Jamie regarding the on-going M-Day investigation. Everything else the man spouted seemed like nothing but bait. Too good to be true. If the Earth had any interest in him, he would’ve heard Her. And fuck, he’d tried. Tried until he looked like a fool, sleeping in silent dirt like it might one day talk back again.

“Listen, I’m really not a living alone in a creepy forest type of guy—”

The man shook his head again. “I will not demand y’stay with us, but you are one of us regardless. One of Her favored. Let us help. She wants you back.”

Although the entire situation made Julio’s skin crawl, the temptation to believe the other was strong. How many weeks had Julio spent holed up, hoping to hear something from the Earth? Hoping, maybe, he could put his hand to a glass one day and it’d shatter from his vibrations all over again? To map where the nearest fault line was without even looking?

And to top it off, a LARPing druid delivered the information. Julio had never been so inclined to see through a lie. “Why do you keep saying ‘us’?”

“Y’think I can maintain the garden out there all alone? My back is too terrible for that,” the man said, stepping next to the lip of the pit in his floor. Between one blink and the next, he fell over the edge, disappearing in a ruffle of clothes.

Julio wondered if he just witnessed one of those fucked up honor killings they did to old people. He stared down into the hole, waiting for the eventual thump that’d signal a body hitting the ground.

It never came. Instead, through the darkness, a mass of something crawled, and Julio scrambled away from the edge, back hitting the front door within seconds. Noise slithered up from the hole, louder and louder. Just when Julio grabbed at the door’s lip, intending to wrench it open, green vines spiraled over the edge. They flowered, inviting, nothing like a terrifying creature about to rip him to shreds. His heart continued to pound.

“Well go on!” A voice called up. “It’ll hold your weight jus’ fine!”

Julio could’ve been dead a hundred times over already. How much worse could crawling into a strange hole be? He just had to keep his mouth shut on matters related to X-Factor. It was the only knowledge he had worth anything.

Carefully, Julio tested his weight. Then, when the vines appeared to hold, he climbed down, nose wrinkling every time a leaf smacked him in the face or one of the sections took a mind of its own. More than once he had to smack a vine out of his pockets like it was an overactive puppy thinking he had treats.

The man from upstairs patiently waited for him at the bottom. The hole leveled out, a sprawling set of hallways branching in several directions, odd sprites of light decorating each.

“I thought you’d decided to kill yourself in front of me,” Julio said, unsure of what to make of his surroundings. After the bit with the vines, he was a little more inclined to believe the man’s story.

“I enjoy the adrenaline rush. Need t’stay young somehow.” The man gestured, leading Julio down one of the passageways dancing with green light. “Come along, I’m sure the others will like you.”

Julio stayed on-edge with every step they took. He couldn’t feel the earth like he used to, especially when underground, but he couldn’t ignore the way his skin prickled like eyes watched. Like someone was attempting to beckon him to the earthen walls and keep him pressed there until he heard.

Gradually, the tunnel widened into an open space. A common area of sorts, several figures milling about performing different tasks. Some were cooking, others chattering away on furniture. One group even seemed to be gathered around a wavering screen, a TV but with no cords attached. Most were in varying dress of the same LARP get-up, only the occasional in regular clothes.

Like a livewire had been struck, the majority paused their activities and turned to stare at Julio the second they entered. Again, Julio’s hand slipped to his belt defensively, but the firearm he’d recently learned to associate with safety was absent. It would’ve been creepy if it wasn’t for the varying expressions of curiosity and the fact a few kids continued to run around unimpeded.

“New one!” the man suddenly called out, and it was like the tension had been cut. While a few bodies slipped closer, curious, most returned their attention elsewhere as if Julio wasn’t important enough to bother with anymore.

They had a whole commune living right below the surface. Frankly, it was impressive. And one hell of a set-up if they were some evil arch-villain group trying to trick Julio.

“Here we go. Lizzy, come here, step up and let him see you.” The man ushered forward one of the women who trailed closer. She was young — younger than Julio, but perhaps old enough to be living on her own.

Julio eyed her up and down, then dug a photo out of his wallet. From her braids to the roundness of her cheekbones, she matched. The missing girl he’d been sent to find, one Elizabeth Taylor. American, suddenly living beneath the earth in Ireland. That answered one question.

Julio raised an eyebrow. “So. You’re not being kidnapped or anything?”

“Oh God, is that what my dad said? Did he hire you to come find me?” She exploded in a sudden flurry of words, annoyance plain on her face. Julio took a hesitant step back to avoid her gesturing hands, and a few of the curious onlookers dispersed at her outburst too. “I’m fine! He’s like, so damn overbearing. Wouldn’t even let me apply for college because it meant me leaving.”

“And you left.”

“Duh! I got sick of it! I figured, after the whole this thing, to just leave without a word. One and done. I’ll call him eventually. Whenever he cools down.”

She belted a torrent of words, but Julio caught the gist. He was a runaway, once upon a time. In a way, he understood her. Didn’t seem to be the type explanation Jamie would easily take though. “…And you’re definitely not saying all this because you’ve been indoctrinated by a cult.”

“Do you think this is a cult?” she shot back, rolling her eyes. Although she wore modern fashion, she had a decoration of paint under one eye.

Again, Julio swiveled his head around. He’d seen one too many horror movies about witches in the woods and read about one too many hippie communes going belly-up throughout history to be completely satisfied. But it was hard to ignore that there really was magic involved with this group. Unless he decided to claim Dr. Strange ran a cult too, he didn’t have much to pin on druids living it up in Ireland. Maybe if he called Terry, she might be able to give her two cents.

He answered honestly. “A little.”

Elizabeth — Lizzy — jabbed him in the chest with a well-manicured nail. “Well maybe you should let us fix that gnarly connection you’ve got. That’ll be enough proof, won’t it?”

Julio blinked in surprised. He’d figured she had something in common with he druids to be there, but he didn’t suspect she might actually be gifted. Mostly, she dressed like the average college student. Was whatever connection he had that obvious, or was it something that the druids were uniquely positioned to see?

“I think you’re both making a mistake. I was a mutant. I lost my powers with the decimation. Even though the Earth responded, my powers had to do with vibrations, nothing to do with magic.”

After all, he heard the Earth only after his X-gene activated. Of course, he’d wondered why he had a connection when his vibrations were a separate matter from earthquakes, but who was he to question it? Second mutations were a thing. He could hear the Earth talking to top it all off, so what?

The older man cut in before Lizzy could respond. “We cannot restore the laceration the chaos magic has done. It’s too wild and unpredictable. But your gift from the Earth is different. You relied upon your witchblood, and now it is dampened.”

“I’m not following.”

Beside him, Lizzy’s head cocked, staring through him. “The decimation turned off your X-gene, right? Got rid of it?”

“Something like that. I don’t know the specifics.” Julio wasn’t exactly magically or scientifically inclined, but nothing they said made sense. If he was supposedly linked, why couldn’t he see whatever they did? Why had the Earth abandoned him?

Lizzy nodded, hands held up to gesture through her demonstration. “Your X-gene is one thing, but your connection is another. It’s not your X-gene, but you aren’t used to invoking the tether on it’s own, so it grew weak. Like trying to move your ring and pinky finger separate — to move the connection you grew reliant on having to use the X-gene. You need to train what remains without the crutch.”

Julio frowned. What were the chances he was magically inclined plus a mutant? And the two concepts intertwined? The idea was almost too farfetched, as much as he wanted to believe the others.

“And you can tell all this all by looking at me?” asked Julio. When he glanced down, his chest was the same as always. A black jacket sitting on top of a shirt faded dusty pink. No magical tether to the Earth to be seen. He had his doubts a teenager could see all of that — and understood how his X-gene worked — but he couldn’t see jack shit.

As if she sensed Julio’s thoughts, Lizzy shrugged. “I always wanted to study medicine related to mutants. My best friend was one before the decimation, what happened to her is what made me decide to leave. I can go to school here. I’m just guessing for now, but it makes the most sense, doesn’t it?”

“Magic and medicine. Okay.” Not like there weren’t a few wizards that fit that bill already running around New York. How bad would it be to let a pre-med druid take a crack at him? “How do we fix it?”

The older man looked like he wanted to cut in again, but Julio deferred to Lizzy instead. She seemed better equipped to explain things in non-magical terms.

Besides, if it was all a malicious ploy, at least he could say he died via the girl he’d been investigating. Not the actual cult that kidnapped her. A distinct difference that didn’t make him as pathetic.

“I can act as a conduit like your X-gene was. Do some heavy lifting to get you connected while the Earth repairs the other connection once you’re like, back online. Like connecting to the internet for an update. That make sense?”

If there was one thing Julio knew, it was computers. The analogy was more than enough. He offered her a hand, a slight shake to it. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but what she offered was better than what Jamie did the day he tried to jump off that roof. She offered the presence of the Earth back, and that was more than enough to cut through the cynicism and have him try.

God, was he willing to try.

When she took hold of his hand, he expected more fanfare. Maybe he’d be led to the middle of the woods, or a deserted area of a cave, and decorated with whatever druid runes looked like. A spark when they touched. Instead, she grabbed his hand and—

And.

Nothing happened.

Julio glanced to his feet. He expected something — if not flowers growing, then to feel the Earth again. Something to trigger his innate sense back to life. Mostly though, it felt like a girl he barely knew was holding his hand.

“Is something supposed to be happening?” he asked, craning his neck to see if anything changed anywhere. The scene remained as it was.

Julio’s ears popped when he clamped his jaw closed. He swallowed, cupping his free hand over one. Probably the change in elevation finally fucking with his head. The cotton stuffing compounded in his head despite his attempts, and he cursed his luck.

When Lizzy finally released him, he was distracted with trying to banish an infernal ringing out of his head. He barely recognized her over the noise.

“Okay, it looks fine to me. You okay?”

“I feel like I have tinnitus right now,” Julio complained. The strange slush in his head ebbed away in waves, like TV static finding a signal. Nothing magical in nature about it.

Stumped, Lizzy made a noncommittal noise. “Oh. Uh, maybe try… doing something?”

Splaying his hand out was second-nature to Julio. To Rictor. He stuck out two fingers, aiming at the ground to avoid any casualty, and searched for that instinctive well of power that always came. The buzzing under his skin, in his head — if he could transfer it out, like he’d done since a teen, then it’d prove they fixed him.

His hand shook. Nothing moved.

Dangerous emotion tainted Julio’s voice. It shook as much as his hand. “This didn’t work.”

A hand clamped down on his shoulder, grounding. The ostentatious antlers brushed his shoulder, like the man was trying to nudge Julio elsewhere. “You rely on the memory of your mutant power. That is not what the Earth is.”

The buzzing in Julio’s head was so loud, how could it not be the vibrations from his X-gene? He drew in several breaths, driving the noise away. Focusing it, like the first time he woke up to the Earth shaking his town apart and realized the shockwaves emanated from him.

Beneath the buzzing, a faint hum echoed outside his head. He turned to follow it, but was met with the same whispers from every direction. Some farther off than the others, but the same sound nonetheless. The same frequencies that lulled him to sleep lifetimes ago.

Julio dropped to the ground, settling a hand to ghost across the dirt. Just to the south, a current whispered to him. A fault line, gearing to shift sharply in the coming days. To his north, several pairs of feet vibrated along the ground, children playing meters away. And above, the slow growth of roots shifted soil and cycled water through it, Julio’s mouth going dry on instinct.

When he pulled, reaching for the tether they professed he had, the Earth rose with his hand.

His vibration powers, his X-gene, was absent. But he could feel the Earth. The vines that sprouted from the ground and wound around his ankle was evidence enough that She knew he was back too.

“Oh shit,” Julio belted a disbelieving laugh. “You fixed it. I can — She’s there again.”

“Don’t bring the roof down over our heads please.”

Julio yanked his hands (when had he pressed his second down?) away from the dirt. Instantly, the fault line below settled, no longer coiling to match the thrumming in his veins. He sent the old druid an apologetic look, as remorseful as he could make it.

Really, all he wanted to do was lay in the middle of nowhere and shake the world apart.

“Sorry. I’m just not used to—I’m bad at telling when I shake things.” It didn’t matter that his X-gene was gone, his body retained its adaption. He had a difficult time recognizing vibrations when his mind was elsewhere. Again the ground rattled without Julio’s conscious thought. “I can’t stop.”

The other man scratched at his face, paint adorning him flaking. Then he pat Julio’s shoulder again, urging him to stand. “Okay, hop on up. I’ll walk you through some things in another chamber just so we know what you’re working with. Then maybe we can get you t’calm down.”

Not a mutant. A druid. Really, none of the labels mattered. All Julio delighted in was the comforting embrace of the Earth around him, like his mamá smothered him with whenever he visited home. Warm and comforting. As if nothing could ever hurt him while she was around.

“Is She happy?” Julio blurted as they walked.

The man stopped where he’d been leading Julio out from the main room, Lizzy trailing behind. “Pardon?”

“The Earth.” After months of time without Her, the information was oppressive. Too many far-off fault lines and seeds of life scrambled for his attention. It was like he was nineteen all over again, trying to talk to a single shrub in Mexico while Shatterstar watched on in fascination. He had accidentally made a nearby tree explode in the process. “Is She happy I’m back?”

Julio didn’t expect the chuckle he received. Ushered forward again, the man leaned close and whispered, “You should be able to tell yourself.”

The flower that had somehow found its way into his belt loop, right where he wore his gun, was more than enough of an answer.

Above ground, settled down in a nearby neighbor’s house because nowhere else had cell service, Julio called Madrox. He’d been warned his call would be spotty, but there was no way in hell Jamie would accept another cryptic e-mail with all the answers.

“X-Factor Investigations,” a voice chimed that was definitely Jamie’s.

Julio rolled his eyes. Of course when he didn’t manage the phone, nobody real could be assed to answer it. He barked, “Get the original.”

The dupe whined, “But I am the original!”

Julio checked his watch and waited. He counted a solid fifteen seconds before a long sigh came from the receiver.

“Fine! Ridiculous, I’m just as good as prime.”

The line clicked, like the dupe set the receiver down. Another minute later, a shuffle of noise came through, crackling on every word.

“Madrox speaking.”

The temptation to spill everything was strong. Rahne might’ve been his closest friend, Terry was there throughout all his time on X-Force, but Jamie was the one who recruited him. Who tried his best to talk him down from the ledge, even though that particular dupe was an asshole. He probably deserved to know exactly what happened to him.

But Julio was selfish. Too many unknowns lingered. He kept his mouth sealed shut, and diverted topics.

“It’s Ric. I found our missing girl. She’s fine, a case of a run-away, not kidnapping.”

Jamie paused, like he was having trouble parsing what Julio said. Then, “In Ireland?”

As was Julio’s own reaction, but after talking more with Lizzy, he understood why the sudden absence was needed. She was an adult; she could go wherever she wanted. The entire circle of druids was more than willing to support one of their own. Apparently they had connections in high places — a school visa delivered her safely to Ireland.

The offer was made for Julio to stay too. He hadn’t made up his mind yet.

“Yeah, she’s going to university here. Has a group of friends helping her out, her dad is a helicopter parent freaking out over nothing. Open and shut.”

“And she’s not just telling you this because her kidnappers want you to think that?

“I can go ask her for her class schedule if you really think it’s a lie.” Julio rolled his eyes. Maybe he sounded too happy for Jamie to believe him. “She said she’d get back in contact with her dad when everything blows over. She didn’t tell him because he never would’ve let her go.”

Jamie chattered something away from the phone, the line crackling to warp his words. Then, voice back close, he said, “Fine. I’ll deal with her father. And I’ll work on getting you a ticket back here by the end of the week.”

“Actually,” Julio cut in. “I think I’m gonna stay for a while.”

It wasn’t just that Julio’s powers remained a little haywire. The druids offered so much he never knew. All that information, about himself and the Earth, waiting to be taught. Things he’d never thought to pay attention to or discover. He wouldn’t give that up so easily.

Plus, the cave system was so much cozier than the desolate room waiting back at X-Factor. The mass of people trying to talk to him was overwhelming, but nothing he couldn’t handle. Not if it meant he could sit, back pressed to the dirt, and feel. The beating heart of the Earth ran strong in the den the druids had carved. It reminded him of curling up in the back of a truck with Shatterstar, blankets piled high and the stars above. Safe and happy. Like his inadequacy could never sink its claws in him again.

“What?” Jamie’s tinny voice wavered through the line.

“Take my non-existent PTO or whatever. I’m gonna stay here for a few weeks. I’ll let you know when I need a flight back.”

“What the hell are you going to do in Ireland?”

Julio shrugged to the open air. He didn’t intend to hit any of the big cities until he just before left. That way, he had something to feign stories about. “I dunno, ask Terry. I thought the change of pace might be good for me. You’re the one always telling me I need to get out more.”

Disbelieving, Jamie exhaled a small, “Huh.”

Then, “Well, I hope your time there is good. Don’t get kidnapped.”

A little late for that.

The first person to greet Julio on his arrival back was Layla.

She hung around the steps, her creepy looming dampened by the fact she was, like, twelve. Practically hidden by a bush, she watched while Julio clambered out of a taxi. He only caught her lurking because the bush actively complained her weight crushed some of its live branches.

“You weren’t supposed to stay that long,” she proclaimed the second his foot hit the first step.

God, she was so weird. Julio hauled his suitcase higher, desperate to escape her stares. “Okay, well I did. So what about it? Mad I got to travel on Jamie’s dime and you didn’t?”

When she clambered onto the stairs after him, Julio darted the rest of the way up them to escape her. She followed him like a shadow. “You weren’t supposed to go to Ireland. I told Jamie that. Terry was supposed to go.”

“And I went, what the hell does it matter?” Julio said, opening the front door.

“It matters. What did you do there?”

Julio whirled on Layla. Always, she was passively monotone and unlike a kid her age. But beneath her voice now — she was pleading, even though she was trying to hide it. He couldn’t help his grin. “You don’t know something. You don’t know this one thing and it’s freaking you out.”

Layla clamped her mouth shut and her eyes sparked. Julio grinned back victoriously. Her precognition allowed her to win at everything — but not this once. Was it the magic that fucked with her, or something else?

“Ric!” A boisterous, accented voice called. Seconds later, Julio had to drop his suitcase in favor of a hug-oriented red head. Rahne squeezed him tight, driving breath from his lungs with her enhanced strength. “Aye, I’m so glad to see you! We’ve all missed you!”

“I wouldn’t say all,” Guido shouted over the couch.

“Quiet, you!” Rahne rounded back on Julio. “So how was Ireland? You stop over in Scotland during your trip? See the sights?”

In reality, Julio hardly left the cave system the druids called home. Not all of them though — most, it turned out, had homes all over. Very few were even Irish. It turned out the Earth didn’t discriminate, but Ireland was the chosen base of operations.

So he shrugged, playing the question off. “Ireland was fine. Did meet a few traveling Scots. None as great as you though.”

Rahne’s grin grew, her eyes sparkling what looked dangerously close to tears. Was he acting that different? “They’ve reverted you back to your charming ways! Unbelievable. Maybe I shoulda convinced Jamie to let us pilfer his bank account for a trip sooner.”

Jamie prime revealed himself from a hallway, a dupe following him close behind, clipboard in hand. Julio didn’t want to get involved in whatever that was.

“I should give you PTO more often if this is how you’ll come back.”

Was everyone going to keep reminding Julio of his problems? He couldn’t possibly have been that bad. “Rub in my issues, why don’t you?”

“Wait, Rictor gets PTO and I don’t?” again, Guido shouted from the other room.

Before he got roped into the argument, Julio grabbed Jamie and shoved him into the other room. The dupe dutifully followed Jamie prime, checking something off his list. The badgering from Guido resumed.

“Ignore them. I got you something as a welcome home gift! Terry and Monet are out shopping.” Julio was unceremoniously grabbed by his wrist and dragged along.

As much as he appreciated Rahne, Julio needed to hole up in his room soon or he was liable to explode. Long flights always did a number to him, and being so disconnected from the Earth once again while on the plane frayed his nerves. He counted himself lucky he no longer had his X-gene — he probably would’ve vibrated the plane apart around the halfway mark.

She pulled him to the kitchen where she nabbed a clay pot from the windowsill, spinning to present it.

“Ta-da!”

Julio snorted at the spindly succulent that stared back at him. Inches from him, he could hear it ranting about the shitty soil it was in. Sounded like no one in the damn house knew how to take care of it nor listened to it.

Straight-faced, he recited, “It’s a plant.”

“Your plant!” Rahne said, passing him the pot. It fit in a single one of his palms with how small it was. The thing squabbled louder. “I thought, maybe, taking care of something might be good for you. Cactus can’t be that hard to kill.”

“It’s a different type of succulent. And I really don’t need a plant. Don’t need one to prove I can keep something alive.”

Sure, he had the Earth back at his fingertips, but he’d kept himself alive in the few months without Her. For all his attempts, he was still alive. What was the point of him keeping a plant? He could definitely cheat too. Plants were a little like annoying pets to him now, chatterboxes if he tuned in.

Rahne raised an eyebrow, egging him on. “Are you sure you can keep it alive?”

Julio brushed a finger across one of the succulent’s soft leaves. Like magic, it chattered even more, recognizing him as someone worth actually talking to. Water — better soil — away from Guido’s annoying voice — the thing rambled on with her list of complaints. Julio could definitely fix all of them. It was only fair if she got bought for his sake.

“Well now I definitely can. I’ll take care of her.”

“The plant’s a girl now?”

“Sure. Her name’s, uhm,” Julio considered the pot in his hands. No way in hell could he translate the name given for Rahne to understand. “Daisy?”

Rahne laughed, genuine mirth in her eyes. It’d been too long since Julio saw her react to him like that. “I’m glad t’see you’re in a good mood again.”

Julio wasn’t stupid enough not to know it wouldn’t last. It never did with him. But for now, his brain cooperated, and he shrugged. “Magic cure I guess.”

Finally shaking Rahne, Julio reacquired his suitcase with his new pot in tow. By the time he made it to his room, his trail wasn’t even pretending to hide anymore. More than once, Layla kicked at his suitcase, trying to prompt him to pay attention to her.

Julio turned in his doorway, meeting Layla’s eyes as she lurked outside. The vindictive smile he gave her was especially worth it when he got to shut the door right in her face.

His room was as desolate as he left it. One pillow, no sheets on the bed, bottles stacked around. The one self-help book Terry bought him laid creased across the floor, a page torn free. He’d not been in a particularly great mood when he left. Opening the blinds to his window didn’t help the situation much, but Daisy appreciated it when he set her on the sill.

Everything else was a problem. He wasn’t dying to overhaul his room, sleep came first, but had a few direly important changes. A desk, namely. He’d been shipped home with a few books he promised to mail back to Ireland as soon as he was done studying them. And maybe a shelf or two. They’d hold materials he needed.

Three days later, Julio had his shelves and about ten new pots of plain dirt littering his room. He wanted more, but Monet was already suspicious enough when he walked in with five at once the day before. What else could he say? That he wanted Daisy to have a luxurious life? New York soil was terrible for her — he just hated sleeping on the second floor and the dirt helped calm him down. He was halfway to dumping it all on his bed if there wasn’t a chance someone might walk in unannounced one day.

Close to midnight, Julio set to moving Daisy to something better: a larger pot and soil he’d worked hard on giving life to. Or at least, he did his best to purge half the toxins stuck in the soil and made sure to crush eggshells into it. Half of it was gardening tips he’d searched forums for, the other half suggestions from the books the druids sent him home with.

Daisy complained every step of the way. Rahne sure knew how to pick them. When Julio switched the pots, he argued back. He’d picked up the habit of talking to the plants in Ireland, most of the other druids did too. Peer pressure was incredibly persuasive there.

“I’m telling you, this is the best I have!” he spit back, dropping down onto his bed and wincing as the coils creaked. If he was going to have to hear her complain all night, he’d put her outside and be done with it. See how she liked the cold air of New York’s fall.

The door to his room shook, and Julio jumped. The pounding was followed by Guido’s voice shouting through. “Ric, stop talking to your lady friend! I can hear you through the damn wall!”

“Fuck off!” Julio called back. Then, when it was clear Guido wandered off, he set Daisy next to his bed so he could stick a hand in the soil while he slept. It was better than dumping dirt on his mattress.

And when Guido tripped the next morning on a root that conveniently sprouted in front of his foot, well, that was his problem.

“And don’t you want your powers back? To help others get them back?”

Julio shoved Pietro’s face away when he leaned uncomfortably close. Of course he wanted to help people, fellow ex-mutants, but what Pietro proposed was too good to be true. There was a reason the X-Men wanted him, and Julio had heard whispers on the street of what happened to the ex-mutants who approached Pietro.

And, selfishly, Julio had already found a solution to his problem. It didn’t matter he wasn’t a mutant anymore as long as the Earth was still there beneath every step he took. Pietro’s enticing bait wasn’t so enticing to Julio.

“Listen, I’m not interested,” Julio reiterated. “I’m fine without them.”

Pietro stopped up short. “What do you mean by that?”

Julio shrugged. “Don’t need my mutant powers. I’ve got sympathy for the others, but I have no reason to deal with you otherwise. I don’t see a point in working with you.”

Floundering, like it was the last answer Pietro expected, he grasped for straws. He stopped and started twice, before finally settling on, “You won’t even try to help?”

“I’d rather you just send them to X-Factor without your involvement.”

He doubted he could restore anyone’s X-gene in the slightest, but if anyone was vaguely like him — had a connection beyond being a mutant — one of the grimoires he’d been lent covered that. Tested on himself, it was no wonder the druids had such an easy time identifying what he was. The beat of his heart shifted like the planet.

Pietro threw him out in the end. Part of Julio was a little disappointed. Pietro came on strong, and was interested in more ways than one. But Julio had enough sense not to sleep with half-evil people. Usually. The appeal was there.

Once again, when Julio returned home, Layla was waiting for him.

“You’re supposed to be at Quicksilver’s.”

Julio didn’t stop, skirting around her form. “Yeah, I just left. He’s a piece of work.”

“No, you’re supposed to still be there. This isn’t how it happens.” She twisted where she sat, her eyes narrowed after him. Accusing, she added, “You’re in too good of a headspace to rely on him.”

Julio paused, hand on the door’s handle. What the hell kind of ‘knowing things’ was she predicting for him? “Are you telling me you want me to be depressed?”

“No,” she replied, too fast. By the way she glanced away, the truth bothered her too.

Just as harsh as he intended, Julio threw back, “Give it a few weeks. I’ll be back to the normal you want.”

The door slammed behind him. Served her right for saying that kind of shit to him. One good upturn in his life, and Layla predicts it never should’ve happened? There was a reason he never liked the predestination shit religion favored.

His bad mood lasted until Daisy complained about wanting a trim. She was annoying as hell sometimes, but his responsibility. So he resigned himself to his fate, back bent over the pot as he pruned her. Layla hovered in the doorway of his room more than once, yet never said a word.

In hindsight, Julio probably should have told everyone he noticed a telepath poking at his mind during the meeting with Huber. He’d figured, hey, maybe someone was trying to check up on him but forgot about his resistance! Nothing too nefarious.

Huber’s hand on his throat, slowly crushing his windpipe, was another matter entirely. The man had rambled, enough that Julio had a clear idea where half the team went, but he was rapidly losing oxygen. Somehow, Huber’s ability guarded him like Colossus, and Julio’s nails uselessly scrabbled at his chrome skin.

Just his luck that he was the lone person left to face off the mutant-killer. Irony never let him live peacefully.

Only one option remained. The ground rolled under his command, cement cracking beneath Huber’s feet. The man tipped, grip loosening on Julio, and they both fell to the ground with a thud. Julio wretched with his neck released, dragging air back into his throat. Between each ragged gasp, he allowed the Earth to feed on his instincts before his thoughts. The tremors were wild, and when Julio spared a glance up, Huber continually fought against the stone that clung to his legs, rooting him despite his strength.

“You’re not a mutant, I know you aren’t. I can kill you,” Huber rambled, breaking one leg free before it was dragged back in place by a herd of vines. “Where is this coming from?”

The chrome skin retracted. Julio had half a second to recognize what the red glow in Huber’s eyes meant before he threw up a wall of earth and dove to the ground. A beam rivaling Cyclops’ burst through right after, showing him in dirt.

The remote. He needed to find the remote to teleport the team back.

Julio sprinted to a car for cover. A blast of lava took down what remained of his wall, Huber’s body shining like pure magma after and burning away the earth and vines around him. Fucking Amara’s mutation.

Around the edge of the car, which was probably wasn’t any more safe than the wall, Julio called out, “Can’t leave me alive to figure out why I’m not a mutant but still act like one?”

“It matters not. I want to kill mutants regardless. You are a hindrance.”

Part of Julio missed fighting. The Earth responded to him different than how he fought when he was a mutant, but it was a battle all the same. Adrenaline spiked in his blood. The ground still rumbled and obeyed his control, bucking against Huber’s attempts at creating tremors in favor of Julio.

By Huber’s noise of indignation, the Earth’s fickleness tested his patience. Seconds later, the car Julio hid behind disappeared, Huber throwing it across the lot to crash into a wall with a twist of metal. Every new step he took, ice trailed up his legs to connect to floor. The earthquake tremors failed to unbalance him with his new strategy in play.

Between the two of them, where it was previously hidden by the car, sat a remote.

Julio dove for it. A hand grabbed him by his throat before his fingers grazed the ground. The hold burned cold, like the one time Julio thought it’d be smart to touch dry ice. He coughed and spluttered, dragging in pitiful amounts of air while Huber leveled him close to his face.

“Pesky. I don’t know how you still have your powers, but they don’t do you much good.”

Beneath the haze settling over Julio’s mind from lack of oxygen, the Earth responded. A weed that sought life between the cracks of cement sprouted up, slithering along the ground until it met metal. Julio concentrated on the pulse of life in the tiny weed instead of the way his own thundered in his veins, gradually losing the fight.

Between one blink and the next, a form slammed into Huber. Julio was caught from hitting the pavement by several Jamies staring down at him, frost decorating every face. To his side, Guido tossed Huber right into the carnage of the car he’d thrown, the screech of metal warping resounding in the air.

“Ric, you alright?” Rahne pat him down as the dupes set him onto his feet. He coughed instead of answering, poking at the sensitive skin of his neck. It didn’t feel like he was in danger of croaking from frost bite yet, but he couldn’t even swallow without pain flaring.

“Hey!” Guido called. “The dickhead is gone!”

A small army’s worth of Jamies swiveled their heads. Guido spoke the truth — the Huber-sized dent in the ruins of a car was conspicuously missing. Teleported away, hopefully. The dupes spread out, coming across the area to poke and prod at anything and everything.

“I can’t believe you destroyed the lot,” one dupe piped up.

Julio glared, clutching at his throat. Yeah, the massive piled of dirt everywhere and smoldering plants were his, but Huber definitely did the majority of the damage. Not they they knew the first part.

A large hand came down on Julio’s back, and he squawked despite the protest in his throat. Guido boasted, “Not like Ric could’a done it. Can’t believe you’re still alive! You’re kinda like a pesky roach that never dies, you know that?”

In the midst of Rahne checking him over and Guido’s yapping, Jamie bent over and picked up the teleporter’s remote.

“Weird.”

Rahne paused where she inspected Julio’s neck. “What’s weird?”

Jamie held up the remote, several meters out. Quite the distance between the device and Julio. “Ric, you hit this to get us back?”

No. Not technically.

Julio nodded his head as an affirmative. Not like they had a reason to believe anything otherwise. At the moment, he was more concerned with making sure he didn’t become a mute than covering his tracks anyways.

Jamie made a dismissive noise and then pocketed the device. Julio made a mental note to start hitting the gym again.

Julio rubbed at his neck, palm grazing soft bandages before he reminded himself to pull away. Being on orders to talk as little as possible sucked ass. If Julio had to endure one more snide comment from Monet that it was so peaceful without his talking, he’d do something drastic. Hitting the books was his first step.

Another page flipped. Julio delicately copied every word and image. He’d hardly made a dent into the first book the druids had shipped him off with, but he’d already found a few promising answers to how to fix the burns on his throat. If he could rapidly grow plant-life, couldn’t he apply it to himself? The answer, apparently, was yes.

It was something he’d never tried, even while a mutant. Healing when his powers were so destructive was a farfetched idea. But the book promised it wasn’t quite so complicated as long as the recipient was connected to the Earth. Julio had that part ingrained into his soul, so step one was completed easy enough.

The next step wasn’t necessary, but he couldn’t deny curiosity got the better of him.

He stole one of Monet’s eyeshadow palettes a few hours later. She could spare to lose one with the amount of product she hoarded. Not that Julio could tell the difference between it all, although eyeshadow happened to be the one thing he knew. It wasn’t the substance the druids painted themselves with back in Ireland, but it was close enough. It seemed smarter than trying Sharpie on his face.

Locking himself in one of the bathrooms, old book and eyeshadow carefully arranged, Julio took to drawing on his face. Smudged on with a finger, browns and purples blended into an odd mishmash across the bridge of his nose. Using a towel to clean up the edges didn’t help much.

Frankly, he looked ridiculous.

What was magical about makeup all over his face? A curved line bisected him, decorative swirls beneath rested on his cheekbones. He looked like he drew feminine fantasy warpaint on himself, nothing more. His connection to Earth wasn’t even—

Julio pressed a hand to the granite countertop of the sink. The stone vibrated against his palm.

Sometimes certain geological makeups didn’t respond to him as well. Dead, disconnected from the Earth structures like processed granite were slippery, temperamental. Yet the granite thrummed under his hand, willing to rip free from the wood and drywall it was mounted to with ease if Julio asked.

Funny how a few lines across his face did that. Hopefully, he was less likely to disfigure himself in the healing process with his connection intensified.

Next, the bandage came off, the fibers sticking to his skin. The wound around his throat stretched molted and patchy, burned in the vague outline of a hand. More than usual, he looked like a damn wreck.

It took a collection of pots to ground him — because like hell he was going to wander out to the park with makeup on his face — before the Earth surrounded him enough. Like the first time he realized he had a connection beyond vibrating everything in the near vicinity apart, he shifted his fingers through the soil, the dirt coiling over his skin as if it was alive.

Connection. Intention. Letting the Earth care for him like She wanted. Julio recognized he sat with a hand stuck in the dirt like he was a plant waiting to be watered, but he was willing to trust the ancient druids a little more than his own shame. He just had to let the Earth know what he wanted and let Her do the work.

With his remaining hand free, he set to studying once more. The druids books were more interesting than he thought to give them credit for. And surprisingly, studying was a hobby he liked, although he didn’t indulge often. The matter was much more appealing when it came to playing with the Earth and his connection. He had direction through the books, unlike with his vibrational powers. He wasn’t as afraid to learn like he did as a mutant.

Wrist cramping and several pages copied later, Julio shook his arm free of dirt. The pot shifted and churned, reaching up to follow him.

“If you spill onto the floor and I have to sweep, I’m gonna be pissed,” Julio threatened. The mound plopped right back down into the pot, falling motionless.

Julio slid dirt-dusted fingers across his throat. Talking didn’t invite any more jolts of pain, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear. The skin was as prickly as usual, give or take Julio missing a few shaves. No dry patches or burns sticky with residue met his search.

Well goddamn. He could do more than destroy.

A giddy exhilaration settled in Julio’s chest. As a teenager, his power was terrifying. There was no comfort in destroying everything around him on accident, not until he discovered the Earth spoke to him. For so long, he could only wreck havoc with his vibrations. By the time of X-Corps, he couldn’t do much but listen to the chatter of the occasional tree. The possibilities with the Earth now were so much more compared to his mutant power.

After a quick shave, cutting himself more than once while his hands shook, Julio clambered downstairs. He was definitely going to eat his way through the fridge with how much energy the healing had sapped from him. Maybe he’d save a few leftovers to give Daisy. She’d hounded him into giving her fruits recently, which he’d worried would grow and flower in the same pot. When she violently smothered them from blossoming. Julio wasn’t too sure if that counted as cannibalism or murder. Probably both.

Guido’s head stuck over the back of the couch at the noise of Julio rustling around. He stared, went back to the TV, and then whipped around once more.

“What hell are you wearing? You look like a fairy.”

Julio ducked his head into the fridge. While shaving, he’d kept the makeup on. He could taste the Earth on the back of his tongue while he wore it, the tectonic shifts thrumming under his skin. It was addictive, not having to focus to feel his heartbeat in resonance with the Earth.

Grabbing what was clearly Guido’s leftover pizza, he called over, “I hope you mean that in the fantasy way.”

Jamie knew his past with Shatterstar. Guido had made a few crude jokes in recent weeks, but they were nothing more than joshing. Unlikely he knew the truth. Not that it made his comment any better.

“I mean it both ways. Don’t tell me you’re dressing like one of those pansy—” Guido stopped short when Julio slammed the fridge door. “Hey, how the hell are you talking already?”

“Fairy powers,” Julio deadpanned. Then he retreated upstairs, unwilling to take any more of Guido’s unfunny jokes.

He reapplied the makeup the next day. And the day after, switching to a different pattern. On the fourth, Monet rolled her eyes and handed him a fifty and told him to buy actual face cleanser to get the eyeshadow residue off. Guido’s comments didn’t let up, but they did slow down when Theresa admonished him whenever she was in earshot.

Aside from the stint with Huber, Julio hadn’t been hard pressed to hide his abilities from the rest of the team. Most of his days were normal enough, Daisy a constant that screamed at him if he even deigned to shutter his windows. More than once, when getting up for the day felt like too much, she recited the amount of issues with her soil until Julio was forced to leave bed and the room.

Rahne had no idea what the hell she’d gifted him. Somehow, Julio was tempted to gather a few more plants to keep Daisy company. It wasn’t like he didn’t have enough jars of dirt sitting around already.

“Interesting… decorations,” Rahne had commented one morning, her usual request for him to accompany her to church dying on her lips.

“I’m mixing soil for Daisy,” Julio justified, swiftly slamming the open book on his desk closed. Sheets etched with undecipherable diagrams went flying, and Rahne raised an eyebrow.

“That’s a lot of soil for one small succulent.”

“I’m waiting for her to grow.” Not that she would. Daisy was a stubborn little houseleek that refused to grow more heads no matter how much room Julio gave her. Something about individuality was her answer the last time he asked.

“Well. I’m happy to see she’s living.”

And that was the end of that.

Later, Monet of all people spared concern — in her own way — about his new choice of protection. She was the only one who hadn’t made a disparaging comment about his new sense of fashion, and Julio appreciated her for that.

“Where’s your gun?”

Holed up on a rooftop across a warehouse, Julio pat at his side, heart in his throat. Where he’d typically meet sleek metal, his palm met open air. It’d been weeks since he last touched a gun. He couldn’t bring himself to sell his old pistol yet, but it sat locked away in his closet, collecting dust.

Someone was bound to notice eventually. Monet being the first to tell while they were on a stakeout was unsurprising.

The temptation to divert her question and point out he could feel no one was alive in the warehouse was strong. But that invited more questions, so instead he settled on throwing out, “What?”

“Your gun. I haven’t seen you wear it in ages.”

“Why does it matter?”

Monet rolled her eyes. Her patience never held when he was being purposefully obtuse. “I’ve had to save your ass more times than I can count. It’s annoying to create more reasons for me to save you.”

He didn’t need saving anymore. Not really. The Earth had his back. So he shrugged instead of answering. “My morals came back.”

“You are so lucky I can’t read your thoughts.”

Julio sent her a flat smile. Monet put up a façade, but she was the same as him. He knew exactly when to look past what she threatened. “You wouldn’t even if you wanted to.”

A few days later, Julio considered she was right. If for nothing else, he should’ve worn a gun to keep the illusion going. Yet he’d spent so long bargaining with himself about the necessity of a firearm that the moment said necessity was gone, his revulsion settled back in.

Facing down a masked assailant whose heart beat eerily familiar, Julio damn missed a gun. Especially when swords came down close to his back, slashing his chair in two.

He didn’t have long to recover. By the time he and the Madrox dupe scrambled up, the assailant returned from Guido’s blow mask-free. The shock of short red hair and a distinctive tattoo dropped the missing pieces into place.

“‘Star?” Julio gasped, the Earth slipping from his preemptive grasp. Frozen, he roamed his eyes across the other. The short hair was new, and he wore white as always, but there was something wrong in the way his expression twisted. In the way he held himself.

Despite how they left each other in Mexico, Shatterstar would never intentionally hurt him.

“Nice makeup,” Shatterstar taunted — entirely unlike how he talked — and swung his swords down at Julio once more. The Earth didn’t rise to protect Julio. Shatterstar was as much his heart as he’d always been. No instinct of Julio’s would jump to harm him. Instead, Julio dove to the side and hoped Guido had enough sense to knock the other out.

One more minute of scrabbling around, Guido taking charge, and Shatterstar stumbled in his attack, hands going to his head.

“Ric get back,” Guido warned. “I bet it’s a trick.”

“It’s not,” Julio protested. He couldn’t detect anything different about Shatterstar, his powers didn’t extend that far, but he didn’t doubt the other was being controlled. If Shatterstar needed his help to break free, as susceptible to mind control as he was, Julio would help him in whatever way he needed.

And when Shatterstar’s head lifted, eyes wide and scared just like they were nineteen again and Julio said he was leaving X-Force, there was no mistaking who was in control.

“Julio?”

“Hey man. You’re okay. I’m here. You’re gonna be fine,” Julio promised, hands running across Shatterstar’s shoulders and hoping beyond hope he wasn’t having to lie. He’d tear apart his new library of books and make calls all across the world until he found a way to undo whatever control Shatterstar was under. No matter what.

After Monet’s scan to assure he was free from foreign influence, Shatterstar adjusted fairly well to X-Factor.

Guido stayed antsy. His few comments he’d made over the past few days compounded exponentially with visual proof his guess was correct. Shatterstar didn’t bat an eye, just as he never cared for being called a ‘lipstick pretty boy’ back in the day, but Julio could only take the comments for so long.

“Hey, if you start growing fruit in your room, does that mean—”

“Dude, shut the hell up,” Julio said, shoving Guido aside and stomping straight towards the fridge. He needed a beer if he was going to have to tolerate Guido for any longer. And he was definitely going to — Jamie looked like he was gearing for a group meeting.

A hand grabbed his elbow after he swiped up his first bottle. He swiveled, ready to yell at Terry or whoever that he’d damn well drink whenever he wanted, but was stopped up short by Shatterstar’s soft expression.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he spoke low in Spanish, blocking the others from overhearing.

Julio wasn’t sure if he meant their days before they split off in Mexico or for what he did while Cortex had him under control. Both made his heart pound in his chest and his eyes burn.

“It’s fine.” Julio dared a step closer, leaning into Shatterstar’s space. “Whatever happened, it’s okay. You’re here now.”

Guido cleared his throat. Julio jumped away despite Shatterstar’s frown at the action. “If you two would stop tonguing each other.”

Julio glared over Shatterstar’s shoulder. This shit was getting really old, really fast. “We’re literally just standing here.”

“I will hurt him if you wish,” Shatterstar offered, turning to stare down Guido. The other puffed out his chest, glaring back.

Julio rolled his eyes. Those two would posture each other to death if they allowed it. “I can deal with Guido on my own.”

“Good luck with that. You know guns don’t work on me,” Guido gestured to his chest, miming a bullet ricochet. Then, Terry finally stepped between them all, herding the conversation elsewhere. Apparently, there was an important meeting that needed to be held. Or something.

Julio ignored the bewildered frown Shatterstar shot him at Guido’s comment. He’d deal with that later.

And later came faster than Julio wanted it to. Shatterstar joined him in his room because like hell Julio was going to have him sleep on the couch. It’d be a tight fit, but at least his room didn’t look like the usual pigsty it was before Ireland. Daisy squabbled at him if he so much as brought a bottle of alcohol into the room anymore.

Julio dragged an old pillow out of his closet while Shatterstar investigated the room, checking for cameras like he always did. Behind him, Shatterstar called over, “I enjoy the markings on your face. Is there a purpose for them?”

As he’d become accustomed to, Julio diverted the question. “You just like that I match you, don’t you?”

“Perhaps.” Shatterstar poked at Daisy next. She shrieked, as she always did when someone what wasn't Julio touched her. Then, blissful silence settled, like she tolerated Shatterstar’s attention. Julio’s head snapped over to them both. Daisy sat prim and proper, strangely quiet as Shatterstar examined her. “What is this creature?”

Shatterstar dragged a finger down one of her leaves and she made a noise Julio was not going to repeat. He grabbed her pot, pulling her away and planting her under the window despite her protests. No way was he going to tolerate her making a pass at his maybe-boyfriend. “This is Daisy, sorry if I annoy you by talking to her. She helps me bounce ideas.”

Under his breath, as quiet as he could make it to avoid Shatterstar’s enhanced hearing, he admonished, “Back off.”

Julio was definitely going to have to lock her in the closet every night if she was going to be weird about Shatterstar. Maybe she’d be happy under Longshot’s care. He’d threaten that later.

Makeup sponged off and Shatterstar shoved into ill-fitting pajamas, they piled into bed together. It’d been too long since Julio allowed himself to enjoy a circle of arms around him. A conversation between them was a longtime coming, but if the other was back in his life for good? If they left Mexico behind, all transgressions forgiven? Barring his mutant power, it’d be like nothing had changed. It was all Julio ever wanted.

He hid a smile into his pillow.

Shatterstar’s hands splayed under his shirt. They crept ever upwards. Against his ear, Shatterstar interrupted Julio’s good mood with a flat, “Why did Strong Man imply you use firearms?”

Always like ‘Star to ruin a moment. Julio sighed, twisting in the other’s hold so he could lay on his back. He didn’t want to look at Shatterstar or have him feel the anxious beat of his heart while he spoke. It was one thing for Terry to accept him turning to guns when he was so vocally against them during X-Force. It was another thing for Shatterstar, who helped him dismantle his family’s firearm empire, to discover he’d compromised his morals.

“Have you heard of the decimation?” whispered Julio.

During the meeting, Shatterstar gave a brief rundown where he’d been. Madripoor, then Mojoworld. Nothing but Mojoworld for ages. Current events didn’t exactly reach the Mojoverse easily.

“I heard whispers of it. Lord Mojo was incredibly disappointed to lose a mass of entertainment like mutants.”

In the dark, he reached for Shatterstar’s hand. Fingers threaded through his like they were never parted. The ache in his chest wasn’t as all-consuming as it was weeks ago, but its claw marks hadn’t scarred over just yet. “I’m not a mutant anymore, ‘Star. I was in the majority decimated.”

Intervention of the druids aside, he wasn’t a mutant. He’d never be a mutant again. Alone in the dark, he grappled with the idea often. But now he was comforted by the thrum of the Earth below, assured She listened. He hadn’t lost what was most important to him — his status as a mutant wasn't as significant. A piece of him hurt to loose that community, but the devastation was smoothed over as best it could.

Whatever he expected of Shatterstar’s reply, it wasn’t for the other to lean over him, abject confusion written in his features. A palm pressed to the center of Julio’s chest.

“But your uemeur appears unchanged,” Shatterstar said, brows furrowed as he ran a thumb down his middle. Like he was bisecting Julio to find that strange soul substance he was uniquely positioned to see.

Once, after the Benjamin Russell fiasco, Shatterstar tried to explain what an uemeur was. Julio chalked it up to a soul and left it at that. After all, Shatterstar had been the one to claim he could see the Earth linked to his uemeur — it was why he’d began exploring his connection in the first place. Now that Julio had more training from the druids, he could see something akin in himself.

Again, Julio skirted the real answer. “No X-gene, for certain. My vibrational powers are gone. I had to turn to firearms for protection.”

“Hm.” Shatterstar hummed under his breath, and part of Julio direly missed being able to feel those minute vibrations at a distance. When Shatterstar brought a hand up to rub as his cheek, at the patch where Julio wore his makeup earlier, he leaned into the touch. “I will be here for you all the same. Whatever you wish. I came back for you, a mutant or not.”

And that was all Julio needed.

Chapter Text

Despite the loud crack his spine made as he stretched, nothing couldn’t hamper Julio’s good mood.

The night before, Julio tossed and turned. The Earth was too far away from the second floor, jars of dirt notwithstanding. Shatterstar was out — whatever that meant for their relationship, Julio tried his best to ignore the anger it instilled — and no matter what position he laid in, he couldn’t sleep.

At nearly two in the morning, he wandered out to the destroyed lot next to the building. Jamie hadn’t paid to repair much of it. Most of the concrete had been removed, patches of soil encompassing the middle where Julio had ground the offending cement to dust in his fight with Huber. The earth there hadn’t seen sunlight in years, malnourished under layers of pavement, but it was slowly adapting itself to its new freedom.

Julio wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He pressed his palm into the dirt, content to sit there until he was lulled by the Earth enough to pass out in his bed upstairs. Instead, She curled around his hand, draping like a blanket across his knuckles. He hummed at the feeling, content despite the cool air of the night. Ever so slowly the soil rose higher, Julio’s arm sinking further into the ground.

He stared. His arm sank another inch.

While he was certain his connection with the Earth was stable, he definitely couldn’t breath if She decided to bury him. He wasn’t exactly a plant.

“C’mon, let go,” Julio said, yanking at his arm. It remained buried, dragged another half an inch down until he was stuck to his elbow in the ground.

He was not about to pathetically yell for help and reveal the Earth wanted to eat him. No way. She probably had some type of plan, right? After all, he could name the people he trusted on one hand. The Earth was one.

Pulse in his throat, Julio placed a second palm next to the first. Just as quickly, it was dragged under. Down his arms went, the tilled soil gradually widening until it met his feet, capturing them next. He sunk, and before dipping under, he darted his eyes around. Nothing above the ground explained what was happening. Maybe below? New York wasn’t exactly known for its caves, but he’d noticed a system below their building ages ago. If he was dragged down far enough, he might avoid being buried alive.

Between one blink and the next, the ground shifted, parting like an open fault line. His footing completely disappeared and he dropped, supported only by the soil that clung to him. For one fleeting moment, he considered that if he didn’t die by suffocation, it’d be death by height.

His back hit the ground after several seconds spent tumbling, softened by what rose to meet him. He groaned — the landing hurt like a bitch regardless. To make matters worse, he couldn’t see shit. He could breathe though, which was a plus.

At the twitch of a finger, luminescent moss sprouted. Usually he manipulated plants that already existed nearby, but he’d been experimenting with conjuring them up. He was glad for the practice, otherwise he’d have walked straight off the sheer cliff face in front of him.

The Earth would’ve caught him. Hopefully.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Julio complained, climbing to his feet. The air was stale, yet gradually warmed with a scent he couldn’t name. Even the shadows lightened, less ominous and more playful. Like the caves the druids out in Ireland lived in. Undoubtedly, he stood in the same cave system he’d detected previously. The chamber was small, cozy enough, but still an untouched cave.

Julio eyed the shifting walls, rubble clearing and patches rising. Some of it was him — he brought up a short wall in front of the drop-off to prevent an accident, but the rest rearranged without his word. He’d never seen anything quite like it before.

Clattering rocks brushed his leg, circling him and then urging him to the ground. Her message was clear.

Lay down. Sleep.

He saw little reason to argue even if it was fascinating to watch Her work. Exhaustion continued to tug at him despite the brief fright, and when the Earth offered him a plush platform to curl up on, he took it. Pressed with his cheek to the Earth, Her murmurs lulled him like a nursery song. Falling asleep in a random, uncharted cave definitely topped the list for stupidest things Julio had ever done, but he saw no reason not to trust the place otherwise. Sleep called his name beneath the Earth, not disconnected and above it.

When he awoke, he discovered the Earth was less inclined to fix things when he was properly conscious and alert. He stomped around the cave for half an hour, examining every nook and cranny. A brush of something familiar cradled him no matter where he went, but he was definitely stuck underground.

Five minutes of practicing later, Julio made it back to the surface with a brand new patch of cement ruined in the lot. He’d let Jamie figure that one out later. A current ran under his skin, refreshing despite the fact he’d slept on a slab of dirt for several hours. He’d keep ruining the lot if it meant he felt the same more often. It was enough to motivate him to dedicate the day to errands he’d put off, steps lighter than they’d been in days.

By the time the sun had set, Julio shoved the door to X-Factor Investigations open, a heating lamp in his arms. Winter fast approached and Daisy had already complained about the chill that seeped through the window. He’d spotted the lamp during his errands and figured it was time to bite the bullet.

“Rictor!” Longshot jumped up from the front desk like he’d seen a ghost.

“That’s me,” Julio said, locking the door behind him. It was far past the time for any more customers to come in.

Terry appeared in the doorway next, face a cloud of thunder. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Um,” Julio stared between the two of them. Did something happen while he was gone? He held up the lamp and several bags on his other arm. “Errands?”

“You’ve driven ‘Star mad with worry!” Terry snapped back.

He’d doubted Shatterstar would even come back last night. What was the issue? Did no one see him enter the house that morning to change? “I have?”

“Yes! He said he came back home last night and you were gone. And you’ve been gone all day!”

How the hell was that his fault? Julio opened his mouth to retort, but Jamie wandered in next, attracted by the shouting. He eyed Julio, mimicking at a spot on his neck. “What’s with the dirt?”

Julio rubbed at a patch under jaw. So, he should’ve showered that morning on top of the change of clothes. Sue him, turned out sleeping in a cave did have its drawbacks. “I… fell in a ditch.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. Julio shoved past him and Terry. “‘Star!” he called.

One moment the space in front of the stairs was empty. The next, Shatterstar appeared, wild-eyed and skidding up to Julio. Hands grabbed his shoulders before he could stop the other. The grip was bruising, and Julio grumbled as his new heat lamp was almost crushed.

“Julio. I thought you kidnapped!”

“I was out doing errands. It’s not that serious.”

Shatterstar leaned in close. Julio tolerated the strange quirk, ignoring the dumbfounded expressions of the others (sans Longshot) as Shatterstar sniffed at him. It was one of the main traits Julio enjoyed about Shatterstar’s otherness.

“You smell odd. Like heavy magic.”

“Oh, I thought I was the only one who noticed that,” Longshot piped up.

“It’s New York. Tomorrow I’ll come in smelling like sunshine and rainbows.” Julio held out his arm, prompting Shatterstar to take the excess bags. “Help me take these up. And I wasn’t kidnapped. Don’t stay out with other people at night and you’ll notice that.”

He stomped up the stairs before anyone tried to question him further. It was better than having to hear Jamie asking, “…So what does magic smell like?”

Shatterstar trailed after him. Julio was still pissed — he’d been pissed ever since their talk of Shatterstar’s want to explore other people. Tolerating it in theory was one thing, but in practice it did nothing but grate on his nerves endlessly. And Shatterstar had the gall to be worried about him when he disappeared with whomever?

While adjusting the lamp for Daisy, who preened when he rubbed a thumb across one of her leaves, Julio asked, “So is it that I smell like dirt?”

Something was different about him since the cave. Daisy visibly wiggled where his thumb brushed her, a spark of green lighting up between them. Julio yanked his hand away before Shatterstar could see.

Jars clinked. Julio counted himself lucky Shatterstar abhorred reading and had yet to touch a thing on his desk or shelves. His grimoires were a little too obvious to anyone else. “Yes. That and another overpowering scent. Not quite you, but of this planet’s specific magic. Our room scents similar.”

Julio had nothing to hide. Shatterstar deserved to know, no matter how angry he was.

“I slept in a cave last night.”

“A cave. Nearby?” Shatterstar tutted. Fingers ghosted through Julio’s hair, specks of dirt falling free. “That is unsafe, Julio.”

“Yeah, well, I couldn’t sleep for jack and you weren’t here. Slept like a baby down there. Reminded me of, y’know.” Julio shrugged, resisting the urge to badger Shatterstar. Whatever magic clung to him, it overrode his compulsion to fight everything that moved.

“May I investigate? In case you wish to return.”

What would be the harm? Shatterstar was foreign, not of the earth, but surely She’d like him. Julio did, for all their issues. The idea of sharing his connection with the other sent a buzz of excitement alight under his skin. “Sure. But no telling the others.”

Julio brushed off Shatterstar’s skepticism of the cave. Strong arms caught him instead of the Earth the second time he dropped into the chamber, but it was no less comforting. Holing up with a blanket on the same platform he’d slept on was easy as Shatterstar searched the cavern up and down. At one point, he disappeared off the side of the ravine, Julio’s heart in his throat as he witnessed Shatterstar vault over the wall he’d made.

Shatterstar returned minutes later, damp with water.

“The place appears excavated. Magic has warped the area.”

“Crazy,” Julio deadpanned, pulling his blanket higher. He’d abandoned his pillow several minutes before, cheek pressed to the dirt while he tracked Shatterstar’s footsteps through the vibrations. The air thrummed, a frequency Julio’s couldn’t quite hear, but he could feel it in the way his hair stood on end. Even Shatterstar whipped his head around, searching for the source.

Julio shut one eye. Energy crackled under his skin, a livewire he’d like to churn out in a different way. “I’m gonna go to bed if you’re gonna keep looking around.”

“You enjoy this place.”

“Yeah,” Julio breathed. A gentle brush of something infected him everywhere in the cavern. He needed Shatterstar to feel it too. “You know why.”

Shatterstar shoved his way under the blanket, hands roaming, and the ringing in Julio’s ears doubled. Below the earth, they didn’t have to worry about Guido overhearing. Julio could focus on the frequencies in his ear, Shatterstar’s voice, and the way his palms burned on his skin.

In the morning, Shatterstar eyed the sliver of opening in the ground. It appeared to breathe with life, open when they were near but sealing closed at a distance. For a good few minutes, it took some work to figure out how to climb free of the cave with Julio in tow. Now, on the surface, Shatterstar took to studying the hole. “How did you find a way free on your own?”

“Same way I got in,” Julio replied, dusting himself off. More than the dirt they'd rolled around in all night clung to him, and they both needed a shower first thing. The crystals that clung to Shatterstar's hair were eye-catching. The Earth, at least, did appear to like Shatterstar as much as Julio did.

Face buried into a couch cushion, Julio focused on wiring his jaw shut. Another noise from him, and he was sure someone else would take notice already. Sprawled across the sofa as he was, unable to move, was already enough of a giveaway. Who knew when Guido or Shatterstar would appear, wishing to watch one of their latest series.

Thunder rattled the windows. A pained noise escaped Julio’s throat, his muscles locking up.

“You okay?”

Jamie’s voice passed over Julio’s ears, figure shadowed above, but he could hardly hear it over the pounding his ears. Repetitive drumming echoed, drowning the sound of the real rain floating in from outside. He couldn’t even distinguish Guido’s heavy footsteps from that of everyone else’s until he spoke.

“Is he sick?” Jamie’s question directed away from Julio.

“He looks like it. If he throws up on the couch I’m gonna be sick. Where’s his boytoy to move him?”

Below the sludge, Julio willed himself to move. To stick a thumb in his mouth and wipe at the marks on his face. Only five minutes earlier, he’d been stretched out, delighted with the massage tracking down his spine as the rain hit the ground. In the past, rain was nothing more than a distant buzz on his skin when it made landfall. Now, markings enhancing his connection, he’d frozen the second the thunderstorm rolled in. The time between “comforting rain” as a massage and “torrential downpour” that overwhelmed his senses was nary enough for him to do more than lay down and pray for it to end.

His thumb dragged down the side of his nose, cutting his makeup in half. He gasped in a deep breath as the spikes driving down into his muscles faded. Lingering, yet nothing more than a creeping sensation across his skin, not a pike driven down with every droplet.

“Oh yeah, he sounds like he’s gonna throw up,” Guido said, backing up several feet away.

“I’m not,” Julio helplessly groaned into the arm of the couch. His spine audibly cracked when he pushed himself up straight. His head swam like it was filled with the pooling rainwater outside.

Jamie’s nose wrinkled. “I’m getting you some Nyquil or something. Go upstairs before you infect the rest of us. Monet will have a fit if she catches something from you.”

“She can’t even get sick,” Julio complained, but for once he listened to a command, stumbling to unsteady feet. His head remained fuzzy with cotton, his ears popping once before the thunder crashed down once more.

Days like then, he’d give anything to return the druid powers if it meant he wasn’t put out of commission every time a thunderstorm hit. One of the few drawbacks, exacerbated by Daisy crying about wanting to be set in the rain when he shuffled into his room. Julio’s didn’t have enough energy to argue back, pulling a pillow over his ears and hoping desperately Shatterstar thought to shove her in the closet whenever he came home.

Julio’s pistol remained locked away. Not that it would have deterred the current firefight he was caught in, but it might have convinced Jamie he didn’t need dupes to save him.

Be as it was, Jamie had involved him in some missing persons case turned underground crime syndicate ring. Julio wouldn’t have turned down the case, but at a certain point he agreed they should’ve turned over the evidence to someone else. Nothing about the case had to do with mutants or ex-mutants. Julio had spent one lifetime too many in recent years tearing down organized crime alone. He wasn’t keen on a repeat.

A bullet whizzed by Julio’s ear. With a single thought the ground split beneath his feet, Jamie and Monet occupying the frontline. He sank into the pocket of earth, tucking into the enclosed hole while feet rattled above him for several minutes. He’d been shot before — impossible to avoid it during his stint in Mexico with Shatterstar — and he wasn’t about to suffer a repeat of events when he could avoid it all. Out of sight, out of mind. He’d crawl out of the hole when he either ran out of air or the gunshots above stopped. He wasn’t exactly supposed to be useful during a fight, although he regretted shamefully hiding like a gopher.

Eventually, noise petered out through layers of dirt. Several dupes scurried around, shaking the earth, but Monet’s presence had disappeared entirely. Either she was flying too high that Julio couldn’t feel her, or she’d left.

When the dupes congregated on a point meters away, Julio risked cracking the earth back open. Around the corner, Jamie reabsorbed several of his copies while he conferred with one remaining. To the other side sat a heap of bodies, a few groaning in a way that only Monet could have created. Who knew how long it would be until law enforcement rolled in. Julio hated being present for the process.

“Rictor!” Jamie’s voice echoed off the warehouse walls.

Julio brushed his shoulders free from dirt. At that point, it was almost like a game seeing how long it took for Jamie to power on his detective brain. “Failed the round of hide and seek, huh?”

“I made the dupes to keep you safe.” How many of them were shot for their fruitless endeavor? One of these days, he’d bother telling everyone he didn’t need their protection.

Julio held up his arms, presenting his mostly-pristine figure. “Do you see me riddled with bullet holes?”

“No,” answered Jamie, a crease between his brows. Julio could almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Great. Don’t worry about it. Now I’m leaving before you try to force me to play nice with cops.”

Probably exactly why Monet left. She was no better at talking to a cop than he was. Jamie was the only one who deigned to co-operate. Or Longshot, but he talked circles to the point he frustrated anyone. Fruitless to send him to talk on X-Factor’s behalf.

Jamie didn’t try to stop him when he left. For the better, Julio’s mood had soured the longer he worked the case. He just wanted to go home, not think of Mexico, and distract himself. Hopefully, with Shatterstar. He’d been missing since their stint in Latveria, but Julio could detect enough of him to determine he was still alive and on Earth. Julio was about ready to storm Latveria again for him, but Jamie promised he’d be back soon. Whatever that meant.

X-Factor’s residence lied empty when he returned home. If not Shatterstar, he expected someone. The den, the kitchen, his own room — every door open led to missing warm bodies. He even dared to enter Monet’s room, yet it held nothing but a pristine bed and no conspicuous flying woman.

Back by the entrance, Julio fingered his jacket to slip on once more. Maybe something had happened in his time between leaving Jamie and arriving home? He was shitty about carrying his cell phone, simply because Shatterstar was as well and Julio didn’t give a rat’s ass about answering a call from anyone except him or his mamá.

The front door slammed open mid-change. A harried Shatterstar stood in the doorway, one pupiled eye darting around the open area before it settled on Julio. His time in Latveria hadn’t changed him one bit, all white leather and cropped hair. A tinge of what was undeniably Doom’s magic dusted him, but it was nothing Julio couldn’t wash away.

Shatterstar held Julio by his biceps before he could blink. In a flurry of Cadre, a termor and language choice belying the other’s fear, Shatterstar rushed out, “Layla said you would be injured."

Julio glanced down at himself and back up. Still lacking any bullet holes. Was this another one of Layla’s bogus predictions about him? “I’m fine. How did you get back so fast?”

One minute, Shatterstar had been in Latveria. The next, now that Julio focused, Shatterstar clutched at him like he’d disappear before his very eyes. It wasn’t as if he or Longshot had been there to anchor him back to the U.S.

“Layla acted as my anchor. We connected while in Latveria. When she told me you would be injured, I insisted we return immediately.”

Julio wretched himself from Shatterstar’s grasp like it burned. Took several steps back, stomach rolling. All the while Shatterstar followed, his face twisted into a frown like he cared about Julio’s reaction. As if it upset him in turn.

Fuck, why did Julio ever believe him? Especially when all Shatterstar ever did was run around, seeking other people, including Layla. Who knew what he was up to — who he was with while in Latveria? Julio hardly had a damn clue even when they were actively living together. Giving Shatterstar the go-ahead had always been a mistake, but calling it off was worse.

‘Star wanted him even without his powers. Wasn’t that all Julio could ask for?

Shoving Shatterstar’s searching hand away, Julio spat, “You connected. While partying it up with Doom?”

Shatterstar’s head cocked, the way it did when he struggled to understand someone else. It was a common theme during their arguments. Always Shatterstar’s confusion and Julio’s anger.

Before Shatterstar could answer, the door slammed open a second time, the door-stop taking a beating as it perpetually served its function. Layla stalked through the entrance next, a gloom over her head as she zeroed in on Julio. Behind her trailed in the rest of missing X-Factor, sans Jamie.

She grabbed the neck of Julio’s wifebeater, hauling him towards Jamie’s office. Shatterstar didn’t stop her, although he hunched in himself, hands empty where they’d held Julio moments before. “You’re coming with me.”

Between Julio’s sidesteps, attempting to keep up with Layla, Guido echoed in the front room, “So Ric’s not dead?”

Jamie’s door slammed, Guido’s voice quieting, and Layla shoved Julio further into the room while she clicked the lock. It didn’t matter much — while Jamie’s office was soundproofed, Shatterstar was capable of hearing anything inside if he wanted. Longshot too in theory, although Julio wasn’t entirely clear how much he and Shatterstar’s powers overlapped.

Julio started with an easy question. “Why did you tell everyone I’m dying?”

“I didn’t say you were dying, I said that you would be injured and at the hospital. But you’re not.” Layla approached him like a wary animal, muttering a phrase he couldn’t hear under her breath while she surveyed him.

The pieces clicked. He was supposed to be shot at the warehouse no matter the involvement of Jamie’s dupes. Apparently, the kerfuffle was minor enough Layla didn’t see it fit to save him from from the injury outright. But saving his own skin was what she was enough of an issue it warranted her real intervention.

Venom lacing his voice, he tossed back, “Nope. I was almost shot though, your prediction was a little closer this time.”

“How are you doing it?” Layla poked him straight in the chest, more curious than accusing. Searching.

The question threw him off. “What?”

“Are you possessed? Something that stagnates what you’re supposed to be doing?” She mumbled something else under her breath, pausing like she expected Julio to recoil. When he didn’t, her brow furrowed further. “You act like Rictor. Yet I can see the magic on you.”

Julio kept his face carefully neutral, swallowing down on the laugh that threatened to burst from his chest. She thought he was possessed? Out of everything — not human? She was so off the mark it was ridiculous. “If you start reciting exorcisms, I’m going to laugh at you.”

“Then what are you?” Layla settled back on Jamie’s desk. Whatever she knew about magic, it was lacking if she couldn’t tell what tainted him. As if she specialized in the sinister aspects of arcana or watched too much Supernatural. “You aren’t doing what you’re supposed to. There’s an influence on you that wasn’t there before.”

“You’re talking as if you can see something like Shatterstar and Longshot.” Dangerously close to the edge, Julio carefully chose his words. He’d be damned if Layla was the first to figure him out. “Since when do you know anything about magic?”

“I planned for my time with Dr. Doom for a reason. Now tell me before I pull out some iron.”

That time, Julio couldn’t contain his laughter. He doubled over, aware of her growing glare. It didn’t help to chase away the ire in his breast, but it kept him from doing anything drastic. “You’re accusing me of being the malicious one when you’re learning from Doom? When you’ve got a connection to my boyfriend? You’re unbelievable!”

Layla stood, her full height almost equal to Julio’s own. “If you don’t tell me—”

“What, going to claim I’m some changeling? Take it up with the two Mojoworlders who can confirm I am who I am. You just don’t like not knowing something, and you’re taking it out on me! Jesus.”

Julio stalked past Layla, fighting with the lock to wrench the door back open. It didn’t matter that she was right in a way, she was just too close to the truth for his own comfort. Damnably close and reminding him of everything else he had going wrong in his life.

Perched against the wall, Shatterstar scrambled straight when the door opened. He trailed after Julio, following him to the stairs like a hound nipping at his heels. It was how he always groveled when he didn’t quite understand why Julio was upset.

“Julio—”

“Go bother Layla if you want something. She seems good at giving you that,” Julio snapped.

Shatterstar followed him to their shared room regardless. Julio stopped him with a hand on his chest.

Again, Shatterstar tried. “But I do not understand—”

Julio pushed the other back. Ordinarily, Shatterstar moved for no one, but he took a step backwards. Julio couldn’t stand to talk to him at the moment. “Leave me the hell alone.”

Closing the door before Shatterstar could employ the pleading, dejected expression he favored, Julio retreated. The door knob rattled once, like Shatterstar laid a hand on it, but fell silent. Julio took to Daisy for comfort, her squabbles about him being an idiot a daily occurrence. She jabbered all while he sunk fingers into her dirt, rooting him from shaking.

“For five minutes, can you just let me ramble?” Julio complained, pot tugged tight to his chest while he sat on the floor, square sunlight filtering down on the two of them.

Daisy paused, long enough for Julio to breathe a sigh of relief. Then, her shouting resumed once more. He groaned, wishing dearly he had a way to filter out hearing her too. At least he could shut a door on Shatterstar’s face.

Who was he kidding? He’d be worse off without Daisy. After she got her daily complaints out, he’d be allowed his turn.

Julio adored having Rahne back in his life no matter how pissed he was she threw Shatterstar through a window. Her pregnancy was enough of a shock he didn’t register it in the moment, mostly because the idea of Rahne and sex in the same sentence was too hard to comprehend.

The fact that the baby felt like Shatterstar too — not quite of the earth yet intertwined with it — equally stumped him. He wasn’t about to ask Rahne; look her in the eyes and say, “So did you fuck a magical alien?” But the temptation was there. Knowing her, she’d sidestep the question just like Shatterstar did every time. She kept her secrets despite him attending every appointment with her, more than willing to stand in as the kid’s fake-father. Or fake-uncle. He wasn’t too sure where he stood yet.

Shatterstar had been antsy ever since Rahne returned, standoffish each time Julio mentioned going out with Rahne or buying things for the baby. Served him right, a bit, but Julio did his best to push those thoughts away. He needed happier ones if he was going to step up as the kid’s fake father-slash-uncle.

So when Rahne burst through X-Factor’s door, Shatterstar in tow and swords covered in a substance that was distinctly not human blood, the sight stunned Julio.

Shatterstar barricaded the door. Rahne wept about hellhounds, and Feral, and an insane myriad of creatures that Julio knew were real in theory according to his books, but never in practice. Literal layers of Hell appeared to be after her. Shatterstar didn’t know enough about Earth’s magical creatures to begin to combat them properly.

Layla threw jars of salt at everyone’s heads. Julio rolled his eyes as she next painted symbols with stilted runes on the door. They wouldn’t hold for long with how crooked they were, memorized but not practiced. There was one explanation for her time with Doom.

“Go do the backdoor. You’re doing a shit job at this,” Julio said, snatching the marker she produced. By the time he finished the front, hopefully they wouldn’t have broken through her shoddy ward in the back.

“Uh, Ric? I kinda trust Layla a little more with—” Jamie started. To his side, Layla stared on, perturbed as he went over her lines, adding the flairs he knew from the druids. She couldn’t compel the Earth to help, but he could.

Nobody moved. He snapped over his shoulder, “You shouldn’t, she’s mediocre at best. Do what I say already unless you want to be the next snack these things are after.”

The group snapped to attention. They scrambled around like ants, lining the windows with salt, Shatterstar receiving careful instructions on how to mark the door to their roof. Only Rahne stayed near him, heavily breathing while she held onto her stomach.

For someone who looked dangerously close to popping, her attention was rapt on Julio and not herself.

“I’ll explain later,” he offered. The door rattled, like a body threw itself against the wood. A yelp resounded after, alongside the rumble of the earth shifting below.

He had no intention of explaining anything, but once Rahne was safe and out of harms way, then he could think more rationally. Hell itself after her was one thing, but at least he could be useful in keeping her safe.

Julio’s following rut was worse than it had been in months. Almost as bad as before his trip to Ireland. In some ways, he felt personally responsible for Rahne losing her child. That if he’d been better at all the magic mumbo-jumbo, things would’ve been different. Maybe, if he’d been at her side during the birth, he could’ve kept her from rejecting the baby. Maybe he could’ve kept the kid hidden while she rode out her psychosis. Maybe he could’ve asked the Earth to intervene, if she would. So many possibilities, so many what-ifs.

Huddled up next to a sleeping Rahne, he stared listlessly at his hands. Some good fake father-slash-uncle he made. It’d only been a few days since Tier disappeared, but neither of them had recovered much. A good portion of X-Factor couldn’t stand to be around them. Longshot in particular didn’t understand, something about his lobotomy made it hard for him to, and he rebounded within a day. Guido and Monet followed after. Cycled and cycled, until only he and Rahne remained shut-in.

Rahne snuffled in his lap. He got up before his overthinking somehow woke her. Although she’d reprimand him for it when she woke up, he needed a drink. The fridge was empty — Jamie had insisted no alcohol in the house recently, even though he definitely stocked shit in his office where he thought no one looked. So Julio shucked on his coat, leaving a short note for Rahne. Layla was home somewhere if anything happened in his absence.

Outside the front door, he was stopped short by Longshot, Shatterstar, and Guido meandering down the walkway. Three girls huddled around them all, their interest glued to Longshot and Shatterstar the most. All sharp teeth and suave charisma, Shatterstar smiled at the brunette of the group, leaning in close.

The ground rumbled. It only served to make the girls stumble into them, clinging tight as they shrieked. The Earth listened, shifting as Julio asked and throwing Longshot’s footing off completely. A brick loosened and fell from a nearby building; only when Shatterstar’s head shot up, eyes making contact with Julio’s, did the quake die.

Julio’s footing remained even. He wouldn’t have fallen, even before he could hear the Earth again.

“You three okay?” Julio called over the jabbering of the group. They all laid out in various poses of discontent, footing completely thrown during the earthquake.

Guido’s lumbering form dusted itself from the ground. “What the hell was that? New York doesn’t get strong quakes!”

Julio shrugged, scratching at the line marked across his face. His throat stuck with lies and dirt. “Well, you know it wasn’t me.”

Ever the gentleman, Shatterstar helped one of the girls up, holding her at a distance when she attempted to glue herself to his side. Julio raised an eyebrow. Like that would change his opinion. Shatterstar’s gaze refusing to leave him didn’t do him any favors.

“Don’t wake up Rahne. She’s in the den,” Julio called. Then, he turned in the opposite direction. He really needed a drink, more than ever. No matter how much the Earth wanted him, it meant nothing when he couldn’t even keep Shatterstar’s attention.

“I have a consideration.”

Julio grunted rather than verbalize a real response. He’d been tempted to sleep in the cave that night, but Shatterstar had caught him as he gathered up a pillow. The door closing behind Shatterstar’s back plus an apologetic look ended that train of action. Yet it didn’t cure the way his hands shook in anger.

Julio’s heart ached as he curled up in bed. For weeks, Shatterstar came home to him every night, as he did then. Was it enough?

“Please look at me,” Shatterstar pleaded in Spanish, a trick he knew would garner Julio’s attention. And when Julio deigned to roll flat onto his back, head drooping to stare at Shatterstar’s shadowed form, the other ran his thumb across Julio’s cheek. Right where he decorated himself with the druid paint during the day.

“You know I’m angry.”

“I apologize for what has upset you.” Julio sucked in a breath, soothed anger flaring all over again. Shatterstar only said what Julio wanted to hear, not that he meant it. If he did, he’d call off his escapades. “But I did have a revelation today.”

Julio shoved Shatterstar’s fingers away from his face. “I don’t want to hear whatever new tricks you learned from that girl.”

Humming low, Shatterstar ran his fingers across Julio’s chest instead. His thumb circled the middle, rising goosebumps to the surface. He looked through Julio, not at all like he even processed the last statement spat. “I don’t believe your connection to this planet was severed.”

From the windowsill, Daisy cackled. A tinny laugh where Julio brought up a hand to cover the ear closest to her. Of course she was getting a kick out of this — she’d said more than once that the two of them were like her own personal telenova. How she knew what the hell a telenova even was, Julio wasn’t sure. He had a sneaking suspicion Rahne used to sneak her out of his room sometimes thinking he couldn’t take care of a single plant.

Julio held Shatterstar’s hand flat to his chest. Below the Earth buzzed, reaching along the connection he shifted through. It was a wonder Shatterstar couldn’t hear or feel Her through him. It was enough of a change that he put aside his irritation. “Why do you think that?”

“I can see it imprinted to your uemeur. It’s not gone.” Shatterstar had mentioned as much when he first reappeared in his life. And like reciting a list, he kept on. “The cave nearby is unnatural. I wonder if it was created instinctively by you.”

If only Shatterstar knew the half of it. Julio, in spite of his mood, smiled at the suggestion. “What are you, a geologist now?”

“Today, when the ground trembled—”

Julio’s grin dropped. The reminder of Shatterstar with a girl hanging off him a few hours before set ire crawling up his throat. Why did the reminder of his proclivities always reemerge? Why couldn’t it be the two of them, nothing more? Exactly how they were in X-Force and Mexico, before they parted after everything. Before Julio lost his powers and Shatterstar became a caricature of his wants.

“That’s what you focus on? Not that I’m pissed at you?” Julio sat up, tucking a pillow under his arm. Shatterstar’s hand hovered limply next to him, expression earnest. Julio turned away from it. “Unbelievable. I’m sleeping in the ground tonight.”

He was caught before he could stand. A cheek pressed to his bare shoulder. “Julio, please. You know I do not mean to upset you. I wish you happy, and I know you would be if we restored your connection. You are the only one I would do anything for.”

Julio’s heart clenched. The only one — that was all he ever wanted to hear from Shatterstar. To be his choice, always. To be special, to the Earth and to the one he loved. He had one, but not the other.

Shatterstar didn’t even know about the former.

Deflating, Julio leaned back into Shatterstar’s touch. It was about time he admitted it to someone. “You don’t have to do anything. There’s nothing to find.”

“Are you certain? I’m sure we might discover something of value. Hope is always a positive.”

Shatterstar wished to fix something in the core of Julio. The festering wound that healed at times yet never closed. In Mexico, Julio had tried to explain it, but Shatterstar failed to comprehend any part of his illness. Once, he insisted Julio was cowardly for the way he thought, and Julio refused to talk to him for a week after. He couldn’t, not with the way speaking to Shatterstar reminded him of his words (cowardly) and Julio’s throat closed at every interval, heat behind his eyes.

Julio felt that selfsame burning. He blinked the pain away. Tipped his head back to watch Shatterstar. “No, you don’t get it. Having my connection back won’t fix my — my issues. They’ll always persist. I’ve tried. You’ve tried. You know this.”

Understanding dawned across Shatterstar’s face. A palm pressed back to his chest, warm against the chill of his skin. “You are aware of the connection. It exists.”

Figured it took a vague allusion and not grimoires sitting out for Shatterstar to see to clue him in. “Didn’t get the tip-off when I started locking Daisy in the closet whenever you took off your shirt?”

Shatterstar’s attention whipped to the potted plant in question. She sat silent throughout the scene, like she was rapt watching her favorite channel. “I thought it a sentimental quirk. What does she say?”

“What does she—” Julio squirmed out of Shatterstar’s arms. Out of all the questions Shatterstar could’ve asked, that was what he settled on? “If you skirt chase the plant, that’s it. We’re over.”

Alarmed, Shatterstar dragged a fidgety Julio back into place. “No, I apologize! I did not mean it in such a way. I’m sorry. You are the only one whose… whose bottoms I chase!”

Julio puffed a self-deprecating laugh. For all the years Shatterstar spent on Earth, idioms never stuck. He rubbed a palm into his eye, exasperated by the absurdity of the situation. Admit you’re a druid to the alien, and the conversation goes roundabout back to their relationship issues.

“If that’s true, then stop going out. I hate it. Do you know what that does to me? It’s like I don’t matter to you.”

Shatterstar’s head craned, a befuddled frown curving on his face. “But you said I could. And I am learning—”

To hell with being stable. Julio exploded in a flurry of gestures.

“You can learn it with me! I have an entire book on magic involving two people and you’d rather flirt with a cardboard cutout of someone else than be here with me! Why do you think I haven’t told you? Why I’ve been angry at you for weeks?”

Shatterstar shrunk back at every spat word, gaze searching. As if he only clued in to everything Julio cried for the first time, none the wiser.

Meek, as if he wasn’t a seven foot tall gladiator known for his bouts of bloodlust, Shatterstar murmured, “I cannot have both?”

“No. One or the other. I changed my mind.”

Why he’d agreed to it in the first place, Julio didn’t know. He’d wanted Shatterstar back so bad he was willing to compromise anything in the moment. Including an arrangement that only made himself feel worse in the long run. Fuck, why did he do that?

Shatterstar nodded. Fingers dusted Julio’s own. “You, of course. I can content myself. No one I meet will ever anchor me as you do. I cannot lose you as I did before.”

If there was one thing Shatterstar abhorred, it was lies and deceit. He was an open book if one knew how to read him; his answer was nothing but sincere. Julio ducked his head, choking down the fight or flight urge Shatterstar left him with. He had nowhere to run off to anymore.

“You’re serious?” Julio asked, because damn if his brain didn’t lie to him sometimes. He needed to be certain. “No more outings? No more flirting?”

Perplexed, Shatterstar’s head tilted. A line creased his forehead from where his brows drew low. “I — I was only exploring as you and other humans had during their formative years because I had missed such a period. I do not need to if you are dissatisfied with my actions. They are never as enjoyable as time with you.”

Julio balked. He knew Shatterstar well enough to read through the lines. “You’ve been sleeping around because you thought you had to?”

“I thought it was a necessary requirement for being human. I suppose I have learned to assimilate easier with others because of it. But I understand none of it without you to anchor me.” The answer was so Shatterstar, Julio could only gape. Back during X-Force, the amount of miscommunications they stumbled into because of their cultural differences was nigh impossible to tolerate at times. Years later, nothing had changed.

What a pair, the two of them made.

Julio dropped back into the pillows. The Earth called for him, but he was more than content with snuffling into the mattress. His head was too full to entertain hearing Her all night to top it off. “I’m going to lay down before I blow a hole in the floor. I need to process this for a few hours.”

“Whatever you wish. I will be here,” Shatterstar offered. A hesitant kiss was laden into Julio’s hair. Julio pressed back into it despite the way his heart felt ready to jump out of his chest. It never ceased pounding when Shatterstar was involved.

Blanket tugged high, Julio couldn’t will himself to sleep as his mind buzzed. Shatterstar climbed out of bed not long after, sleep not a usual necessity for him although he often pretended he needed it for Julio’s sake. The door never opened — he lurked in the room, occupied with something else.

Near to the bed, Julio’s breathing failing to fall even, Shatterstar whispered, “Could I attempt to talk to Miss Daisy?”

Like hell Julio was going to act as an interpreter for that conversation. Muffled into a pillow, he mumbled, “Go downstairs if you do. She’ll keep me up all night otherwise.”

Daisy perked up alive at the offer. She squabbled as Shatterstar hauled her away from the window, a pestering mantra about ‘stealing his man.’ Julio resisted snorting into his pillow, smile on his lips. As annoying as she was, Julio didn’t doubt she was joking. And if not, Shatterstar wouldn’t act on anything. He’d promised as much.

“You think we’re that desperate?” Jamie accused, standing in front of Julio like he needed protection.

Everyone stared back like Jamie was an idiot — which he was because he’d answered the call in the first place. Who would be stupid and desperate enough to spare a coworker-slash-friend to be the Scarlet Witch’s guinea pig? X-Factor, and particularly Jamie, was the main choice.

Jamie, who had withheld what exactly was going on until Julio stopped short upon seeing half the X-Men and Avengers gathered around.

“Ric?” Jamie said, rounding on him when the condensed spiel was rattled off. The offer was extended. The choice was his.

Risk death to be a mutant again. Reverse what the Scarlet Witch had done, give or take the consequence of it going haywire. After all, if anyone would be insane enough to take that offer, it’d be the suicidal ex-mutant like Julio, wouldn’t it? How much worth lied in the destructive power of his mutant vibrations back at his fingertips?

Julio cleared his throat. Beneath their feet, the Earth coiled to strike at the slightest twitch of his emotions. He resisted the urge to scratch at his face paint, aware he had a tendency to glow if he was antsy enough. Whose presence he craved and whose whispers he wanted to hear were a reach away, no longer barred by his lack of an X-gene.

“Uh, I’m fine.”

A line strung out and held. Arguments, meant to convince him otherwise, disappeared from the lips of X-Factor, baffled expressions echoing on the rest of the crowd. Hidden from the eyes of the others, Shatterstar pressed a hand in the small of his back, reassuring. No matter his decision, he’d always be supported by at least one.

The Scarlet Witch eyed Julio up and down, narrowed gaze holding on the line across his nose. If anyone knew his reasonings, perhaps she would. Depended on how much she knew about magic in general — the druids were pretty staunch about chaos magic, apparently. Not a fan.

“You are fine?” she echoed.

Julio shrugged, aware of the amount of eyes that dug into him. Couldn’t they have asked for a few more options, or was Julio truly the only one they thought desperate enough? “I’d rather not exchange risking death to being a mutant again. It’s not that big of a deal. I’m fine without, I’m in no rush.”

From the crowd, a voice called out, “You. The one who tried to jump off a building—”

“Hey—” Rahne interrupted. Julio’s hold on her arm silenced her. His attempt was something he did in public, something televised. He was learning to live with the fact that half his social circle has seen one of his lowest moments on TV. They were right to bring it up.

Instead, Julio reiterated, “Someone else can do it first.”

With the reactions his answer garnered, Julio qualified he must’ve personally insulted Charles Xavier. Which, he wasn’t against either. But the recoil of the crowd wasn’t exactly comforting either.

Rahne’s gaze snapped to him. He blinked back, letting her see what she wanted. For once in his life, he was being completely open and honest about himself. Any more, and he’d have to dip Shatterstar and announce to the entirety of the X-Men that yeah, he did like men. But don’t lump him in with Northstar. No way in hell was he doing that.

Low, near to his ear so the others couldn’t overhear, Rahne whispered, “Do you… do you even want your powers back anymore?”

Shatterstar stepped closer, like he wanted to cut in. But he knew Julio hated being defended when he could do it his damn self. So Julio held him off, face kept carefully neutral.

“What does it matter? I’m alive aren’t I?” Julio answered honestly. He had what truly mattered about his powers.

He was alive, he still heard the Earth, and Shatterstar’s hand pressed into his spine, a comforting weight. A parallel to the weight of the way the Earth wished to drag him down into Her hold. He needed nothing more.

Rahne frowned like she didn’t quite believe him. None of X-Factor did. Layla watched him like a hawk their entire trek home.

“Why do we need a psychic when we have Longshot?” Julio complained for the third time in a row.

One of their new cases had stagnated, something about a missing family heirloom that should’ve been a shoe-in with Longshot around. Except his psychometry, for whatever reason, hadn’t worked and Jamie was too shitty of a detective to find a clue elsewhere. So the case had sat for weeks, no lead and one frustrated client keeping the phone line busy.

A psychic offering her services was the apparent solution. Waltzed in, proclaimed she could see what Longshot could not, and sat down while Jamie conferred with the rest of them.

“My psychometry isn’t working,” Longshot answered finally. Which, Julio knew that, but maybe if Longshot tried harder they’d see actual results.

Jamie nodded along. “A psychic might be our only option.”

Julio rolled his eyes at the answer. Psychic his ass. Did they know how many real magical psychics he’d run into? Next to none. Despite their prevalence in pop culture, the whole clairvoyant thing was rare. Jamie was doing nothing but getting extorted for his money.

Rather than argue further, Julio swung the door to Jamie’s office wide. Sat neatly in the chair was the proclaimed psychic, holding tight to her bag as her head whipped up to stare back. Sure, Julio’s gift was related to druid matters, yet nothing about the woman screamed anything but party tricks. No tethers, nothing following her, not even the Earth marked her as anything but an ordinary human. A nervous twitch to her hands gave something away, but there was nothing magical about it.

“‘Star?” he asked.

Shatterstar leaned over his shoulder, carefully sniffing into the room. At times, it was useful to have a boyfriend who came from a realm of science and magic. His keen nose for the latter picked up anything he didn’t.

“Only dirt,” Shatterstar confirmed. Nothing but Julio’s magic permeated the room.

“Fake psychic,” Julio threw over his shoulder. Indignantly, the woman puffed up, rising out of her seat. He ignored her fury.

“Maybe she’s a mutant?” Rahne offered. Perched besider her, Layla watched through slit eyes, observing the scene like the detective Jamie claimed he was. Julio had a mental bet going for when she’d figure out the truth.

“You think this happens to be the one of, maybe, ten American mutants that remain unknown to the government or X-Men?” If around two hundred mutants supposedly remained, the chances were slim. Rahne deflated at the argument. “She claims it’s magic, yeah?”

Next to him, the woman huffed. “I do!”

“Right. She’s lying.”

And, maybe, Julio shouldn’t have been talking like she wasn’t next to him. Bad habit, he had no issue with being an asshole. So when a sharp pain sank into his side, he only winced and thought that perhaps he deserved it. Getting stabbed somehow wasn’t the worst thing his mouth had gotten him into.

Discrediting a psychic did top the list for stupidest reasons he’d been stabbed though. Knowing their lives, she had an ulterior motive in the first place, but Julio chose to believe it was the psychic thing. Made him feel a little better when he ducked his head and a golden, ornate handle protruded from below his ribs.

Shatterstar threw the woman through the wall before Julio did more than recoil away. If she was a regular human, he doubted she’d recover from the blow anytime soon. And if she died — well, it wasn’t the first time he’d covered up someone’s death for Shatterstar. X-Factor probably wouldn’t be as excited, but they could make do.

“Ric!” Two sets of hands fluttered over him, Rahne and Terry hesitating where the blade stuck him like a pig. Not too large, but neither was it pocket-knife sized. Like two of Longshot’s blades stacked together.

The woman? Not magic. The blade in his side? Definitely enchanted. Or whatever. The handle burned where Julio’s palm touched. There was no telling what else it could do. His muscles contracted around the metal, screaming in pain.

“I’ll be fine,” Julio wheezed. No damage to his lungs, which was great, but if his stomach got cut he’d be in a world of trouble. The blade sat far enough below his ribs for that. “‘Star? Can you get me, uh.”

Julio gasped at the sear of fire in his side when he was hauled up into a set of arms. Pulling out the dagger would be a shit idea even if he could, but leaving it in equally sucked. Shatterstar squeezed him tight, hefting him like he weighed nothing. “Where?”

“Cave. I can fix it, just not here. Too disconnected.”

While Julio hadn’t healed anything serious since the wound on his throat, he didn’t doubt the Earth could fix him. Maybe not with a few pots of soil, but as long as he was dumped in a place as connected as the cave, he had a chance.

Jamie waved the two of them through the front door. “Not the hospital?”

“Cave,” Julio ordered again through grit teeth. Shatterstar angled as he directed.

With a stamp of Jamie’s foot, dupes poured out of him to stay behind. The rest of X-Factor bounded after the two of them despite both Terry and Monet lamenting they could fly him to a hospital faster than Shatterstar’s sprint. Julio listened to none of it — instead he focused on the buzzing in his head and the parting of the ground as they neared their usual entrance to the cave system below.

Jamie stopped short as the cut in the earth widened large enough in the lot for Shatterstar to drop down with Julio in his arms. Clinging to the other, Julio squeezed his eyes shut. A low groan was drawn from his lips when the landing jarred the knife in him. Shatterstar hummed in return, a placating vibration he used to mimic when Julio had his mutant powers.

“You gotta take it out man,” Julio said, exhaling heavily as Shatterstar laid him out on the usual platform they slept on. The Earth responded as She was wont to do towards his distress, skittering around his fingers and searching for whatever ailed him. For once, it was something physical She could fix.

Over Shatterstar’s shoulder, Rahne clutched Theresa’s arms as she was lowered into the chamber. He couldn’t meet her eyes, instead focusing on the glowing roof overhead. The blade jostled as Shatterstar took hold, the sizzle of skin burning filling the air. Then, it was ripped from his side, Julio grunting in contrast to Shatterstar’s silence.

“Cool, good.” Julio pressed a hand over the gushing wound, hissing at the tear to his insides. The Earth followed his direction, the frequency of the cave bouncing across his skin. It soothed the pain down, drowning it out as he rolled onto his side, as close as he could get his injury to the ground. “Keep them off me. I need to focus.”

He didn’t wait for Shatterstar’s answer. Simply closed his eyes, pressed his face into the dirt, and let the Earth work over him. She operated differently from the repair on his throat, no longer a slow, minimal pace needed. Time was of the essence with his new injury. Instead, the skittering across his skin never disappeared, slipping into him like he was being sanded down and gradually rebuilt. Packed down like a hole in the ground, repaired enough for plants to eventually take root and grow. He chewed on his lip rather than make a noise. Damn did it ever hurt, but he’d take Her haphazard repair over being dead.

The green haze across his vision was definitely coming from him and not any of the bioluminescent plants. He didn’t fight it, let the feeling ebb and flow happen until the pain died down. The stitch in his side twinged, like he’d ran top speed for thirty minutes straight. Another minute of heavy breathing, then Julio twitched his fingers, rustling them free of the dirt piled on top.

“Julio?” Shatterstar’s voice was in his ear, a hand tucking errant locks away from his sticky forehead. A cold sweat glossed across his body.

“Fine. I’m fine.” Julio coughed once, his side aching in protest. His right arm was dead with pins and needles from where he’d laid on it. Soil shifted to fall from his sides, staining his shirt worse than the blood.

He lifted the fabric with shaky fingers. A patch of skin lighter in color than the rest of him decorated his side, but the wound itself was absent. He didn’t feel quite restored — like the outside had been stitched together but his insides would take more time. Yet he could wiggle about and wasn’t at risk of bleeding out anymore.

The Earth rumbled, pleased. Julio pat a hand to the ground, soothing Her from rising up again. He was alive, She helped. Later, he’d reassure Her as best he could that he had no intention of getting stabbed again any time soon.

Julio planted his feet to the floor. At a distance, the knife was trapped in a case of stone, Layla kicking at it with the sole of her boot. He’d need to do some research into it, maybe it was crafted with Witchbloods in mind. To Shatterstar and the others who gathered nearby, he said, “I’ll be sore. Something’s up with that knife, but the worst is fixed. No crazy moves from me for a few days.”

What was undeniably a dupe popped his head up from behind a wall. Exploring, while Jamie prime stood next to Shatterstar, arms crossed. “You’re not dying?”

“Shouldn’t be. Feel like I just got packed with clay, but livable.”

“You wanna tell us what the hell is going on?” Guido grumbled, shying away from a piece of glowing moss. The entirety of X-Factor, sans Longshot whose head peeked down into the cave but otherwise lingered on the surface, assembled around the chamber. Monet pulled a faint frown, hovering rather than touch the floor.

“The cave is kinda nice. The glowing ambiance is very Avatar-esque,” Jamie narrated. He nudged a fern sprouting from Julio’s platform, then stumbled a step back when it thwapped at his leg. “How long has this been here?”

“Few months. Can’t believe you never noticed.”

Glances traded between the group. Julio twisted his fingers into the soil for comfort.

Finally, Rahne dared to approach closest. She sat down on the platform, close enough to Julio that he could feel her body heat. He avoided her eyes. “Ric? You gonna tell us?”

Julio thumped his head back down, flopping prone as any lingering energy he had evaporated. No better time to admit he’d been lying for ages then after he got stabbed, right? He just didn’t want to look at anybody while he did it.

“Sure. I never really lost my powers. Not entirely.”

The words weren’t so hard to get out a second time. Shatterstar stood in his peripherals, back straight and eyes narrowed like a guard dog.

Monet shot back, disbelieving, “You’re still a mutant?”

Maybe he went about it wrong. He opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off.

“Ireland,” Layla echoed from across the room. In sync, several bodies shot their attention to her. “He’s not a mutant. He started messing with magic in Ireland.”

Julio winced. Then, he sat up once more, squaring his shoulders. Damage control was needed if Layla was going to start throwing about ‘magic’ as a term. “Uh, technically it’s druid magic if we’re being specific. I’m not about to bring down Hell on our doors again. All-natural here.”

“You missed your powers that much that you turned to — to being a wizard?” At his side, Rahne gasped with horror. Julio rubbed a palm over his face, sweeping dirt away and to avoid her expression. She wasn’t the biggest fan of magic given her faith and recent events. That, Julio understood. But he didn’t have the patience to hash it out with her in front of everyone else.

“Druid. And I was predisposed already. I was aware of it as a mutant, I just always thought it was my mutant power. Turns out I hit two genetic lotteries and retained one after the decimation. I didn’t seek it out or anything.”

For one long moment, everyone paused. Then, Jamie snapped his fingers, like he was some old-timey detective with a discovery. “Hearing the Earth. That’s what you mentioned missing on the roof. That had nothing to do with you being a mutant?”

“Bingo.”

It didn’t feel anything like winning after various expressions of confusion turned on him. He didn’t expect the warmest welcome, obviously he’d lied for months, but Shatterstar had taken the news far better. And with less questions.

Layla stepped up next. “Why didn’t you tell any of us this?”

“It didn’t feel important.” To him, it was his life — what made him important. Yet it wasn’t something the others needed to know. He expected frowns and comparisons to relapsing if they knew, even if the power was innate to him. “Same old Rictor, only a little less inclined to throw myself off a building anymore. Isn’t that enough?”

Rahne pressed a hand to his arm. Gentle, soul-searching. “It is. I’m sorry for not noticing sooner.”

Not like he wanted anyone to. What did she have to apologize for?

On him like a hound, Layla shoved Jamie out of the way to step closer. Demanding, she said, “I want you to teach me.”

Julio squinted at her. She raised her chin higher, holding his gaze. “Huh?”

“When you’re better, you need to teach me what you know. My time in Latveria wasn’t long enough.”

Like her time with Dr. Doom, Layla wanted Julio to teach her magic. He balked at the idea — what more did she need magic for when Tier was already gone? Her info was shitty, but that wasn’t his problem.

“A lot of what I can do is contingent if the Earth lets you.” He dismissed. Gesturing to the opening in the roof, Julio nodded at Shatterstar. With his secret out in the open, he’d much rather focus on more important matters. “Can you go get Daisy? I know she’s throwing a fit. I left her in the kitchen this morning and I bet she heard everything.”

Under his breath, Guido mumbled, “Who the hell is Daisy?”

Monet rolled her eyes. “That ridiculous plant he carts around.”

He didn’t ‘cart around’ Daisy, sometimes he took her downstairs for a stroll, nothing more! Otherwise she complained of boredom. Lately Shatterstar took point to do it too, and he’d be damned if one insulted her. She was a perfectly fine, albeit small, houseleek.

“If we’re done gawking at the guy none of you noticed wasn’t a helpless human for months, I really needed to pass out.”

Fatigue exhausted his muscles almost as much as the stabbing did. Mostly, he wanted to eat his way through a fridge, but sleep called to him like a siren’s song. Accelerating his healing took one hellish amount of energy.

Rahne held his hand for one terse moment, squeezing it tight. Then, she allowed herself and the rest of X-Factor to be herded out of the cave, the ground shifting to urge an errant dupe along when he tried to escape Shatterstar’s glare. Monet and Terry took the brunt of transporting everyone out. Layla lingered last, unable to be deterred by Shatterstar’s insistence.

“You could’ve told me, you know,” she called out, standing below in the spark of sunlight that drifted through the hole in the ceiling.

“I know, but it was much funnier to see you upset that you didn’t know something for once.” Julio cracked a grin. “We’re even now. Sorry I threw off all your plans.”

Layla huffed, spinning away. Shatterstar helped her to the surface, arm around her waist. For once, Julio didn’t feel his usual spark of jealousy at the courtesy. Instead, he laid out, a song in his chest that matched the air around him. It lasted a solid few minutes until a tinny voice drifted into the cave, closer and closer.

The regret kicked in. Boots hit the floor and Julio rolled away, covering an ear. “I change my mind, please take her back.”

Daisy cried against the instructions. Shatterstar remained stationary. “Does she not protest against it?”

“Hell yeah she’s protesting! God, just tell her I’m fine.” Julio lifted his head once, glaring at the little succulent. “Better yet: I’m fine! Now please take her away.”

Because Shatterstar hated him or because he somehow could hear Daisy, the two of them stayed. And despite Julio’s own protests, the noise lulled him to sleep, Shatterstar’s presence at his side and Daisy’s chattering voice echoing off the walls.

The dagger was an issue for the Julio of tomorrow.

“I vote for a third mage on the team,” Julio declared, raising his hand as Hell on Earth started, Tier tucked in his mother’s arms and the hoards of every afterlife after them. He should’ve known better when Layla held such a vested interest in magic. Nothing ever stayed normal in his life.

“Shut the hell up and write,” Layla hissed back, tossing him a stick of chalk. Rahne’s glower held him from barking back, and he set to work. Why a team of mutants constantly battled supernatural creatures, he’d never know. At least the Earth had no interest in killing Tier. That bonus was nice for once. As was the knowledge that at least he’d never be out of job prospects anymore. Computer-whiz and druid was a hard hole to fill.

It was, perhaps, a better title than Rictor the Mutant. Rictor the Druid rang just as clear.