Out Of Time (Part One)

I lost track of just how long I'd spent sitting around outside of a containment cell, staring at the individual inside – Skip; the man I had beaten to a pulp less than 12 hours ago. Amazingly enough, he was awake to stare back at me. Impressive, because I'd legitimately beaten the dog shit out of him. Both of his arms were immobilized for his own health and the rest of our safety.

There were scratches, bruises, and bandages all over my face, arms and body. It was weird how used I was getting to being left a mess after various encounters. One of these days, all of this violence against me was going to leave a scar.

...A physical scar. I was sure at that point I probably had more than a few mental ones.

Eventually, I was joined by my senior X-Men advisor, who pulled up a chair next to me and sat down, "Hey, Mister Rasputin," I greeted offhandedly.

"Hello, Bellamy," He replied, acknowledging me before focusing on my nemesis, "So... this is him."

"Yep. In the flesh."

"How in the world did you-?"

"I had Saberwolf track my signature and lurk," I explained. The second anything happened, Wolf was supposed to either come and get me himself, or if I was too far away – namely out of his tracking range – he was supposed to go and get the X-Men to find me, "He'd have been able to ID Skip at the time too. Even if he'd gotten away, Wolf still could have found him later. That was the plan."

It had never been my aim to confront him and settle things the way we had. I had backup at the theater, and plenty of it. My strategy had been to utilize that backup to send Skip scurrying. Then, with Wolf getting his signature, we would have been able to come up with a real attack plan that we could have launched on our terms.

Mister Rasputin let me speak my piece and actually listened to me, "So, when you said you said to Logan that you wished to deal with this as well..."

I smiled at the man grimly, "I didn't want to fight the f'n guy by myself. Not really. It's just... if he was going after me anyway, I might as well do something to get the upper-hand, you know?" I was going to do the legwork and then tag in the big boys to get their hands dirty, "He preempted me, and I had to fight him, so I did."

It sounded like I was trying to defend myself, which Mister Rasputin keyed in on, "No one is upset," He started to say, "Well, no one is upset that you fought and won. We are upset that this occurred. But it is becoming more obvious that you do not need protecting."

Wow. That was one hell of a compliment, "I wouldn't say all of that," Seriously, what a stretch. I was merely in the process of learning how to not suck. A never-ending process at that, "I'm just trying to step things up. The last time I needed other people to do the heavy lifting for me... well, my teacher got lost in space. Because I like you, I'd rather not have something like that happen again."

And it started with me. After all, if I couldn't fight for myself, how could I expect to be able to fight for anyone else?

Mister Rasputin chuckled and set a massive hand on my shoulder, "For what it is worth, I believe you have done very well," With that bit of bonding done, he focused back on our captive time-traveler, "Now what?"

Where we had questions, others had answers; namely, an approaching Miss Frost, "Now, Piotr, we figure out everything we need to know about our new friend here," She stopped by the two of us and spared me a glance, "Mister Marcher, I assume you would like to sit in?"

Sit in? I planned on more or less driving the damn interrogation, "You kidding? I stayed up for this."

Emma let out a laugh and moved to open the door, "I thought you stayed up because of your insomnia."

She had a point, but didn't have all of the facts, "He beat the brakes off of me bad enough where I'd be out like a light in a minute if I went to lie down," I slumped my shoulders to try and display just how awful I felt at the moment, "I'm really tired right now."

But there was no way I was missing this. I'd have stayed up for three more days if I had to.

I entered the containment cell behind Miss Frost, with Mister Rasputin bringing up the rear, standing guard by the door. With two broken arms, there wasn't much that Skip was going to do to escape, but better safe than sorry. Of course, he was enthused to see us. Me in particular.

"Fuck you," Were the first words out of his mouth, directed at me, of course, "Little punk-ass bitch. You think you're better than me? Think you've won?"

"What was that?" I said, sitting down in the chair in front of the interrogation table, cupping my hand to my ear, "Oh, I'm sorry, I can't hear you. I keep thinking of the sound your arms made when I broke those shits!"

"Mister Marcher, be civil," Miss Frost chided me weakly. Clearly, she had no problems with my gloating.

I rolled my eyes, hard, though not with any malicious intent towards her, "Not a chance. Civility ends when you drop me from a mile above Manhattan."

Skip, the smug fuck had the unmitigated gall to laugh at the reminder of his penultimate attempt to kill me, "Yeah, I liked that one."

"Yeah, that was great," I drawled, "Mister Logan liked it a lot too. You're lucky. I just broke your arms. Mister Logan would have cut those shits off. You'd never get to beat off again – fate worse than death for you. I mean, you wouldn't even be able to make a tiny wormhole to fu-."

Miss Frost was quick to cut me off, "-I believe that's enough of that."

I shrugged my shoulders, "Hey, he knows how he got the most practice with his powers," I said, making a jerking off motion to kill any subtlety. I could feel Miss Frost's consternation at my lack of tact. Whatever. She knew who I was by now.

We were different people. Miss Frost got under everyone's skin by being a snooty, condescending, know-it-all; which she was good at because of her telepathy. I didn't have the benefits of mind-reading powers, so I got under the skin of others by being sarcastic, abrasive, and vulgar. It worked for me more often than not.

"So," Miss Frost said, looking dignified as she prepared to pump Skip for information, "We can start with something simple, such as your name. I really don't feel like calling you something as absurd as Skip."

"Is really bad name," Mister Rasputin chimed in from his spot by the door.

Skip was just about to say something stupid to Miss Frost, which would have led to him being mind-fucked for something as inconsequential as his name. He seemed to realize this and decided to simply part with this information, albeit begrudgingly, "Riddick."

I couldn't believe it. I was stunned, "That's your real name? That's way better! Why didn't you just use that instead of Skip?" I spat out his alias with complete disdain, "You're from the future! It's not like you're in any kind of system we can track!" Why would someone make up a crappy fake name when their real one was so badass?

Skip wished his arms worked so he could slam them on the table, "Because my dad named me after a fucking movie character!" So what?

"An awesome movie character," I emphasized. I took a second to think and came up with another remarkable individual that shared the name, "And Riddick Bowe is one of the best goddamn boxers of the 90s!" Fucking philistine. Seriously, I kind of wished my name was Riddick, "...The more I hear from you, the less I like you."

"The feeling is mutual. Trust me."

"I wouldn't trust you as far as I could throw you, you-."

Miss Frost interrupted us before the impotent dick-swinging contest could go any further, "-We are getting off topic. We came here for a reason," At this, she looked pointedly at Skip, "You say you came from the future. One where Mister Marcher destroys the world. Tell us what you know about what happened. You could save billions of lives."

The appeal to Skip's sense of morality did nothing but draw a scoff out of him, "If you really cared about saving lives, you'd end his right now."

Best of luck with that. Even if he did happen to be that persuasive, there was no way I was going down without one miserable fight, even against the X-Men.

Miss Frost continued down the path of diplomacy, giving Skip every chance to do things the easy way. Plausible deniability for when she finally psychically split his wig, "If you don't cooperate, we have no reason to believe anything you say. So far, you've been more of a menace than he has."

I wanted to go 'aww'. That was one of the top five nicest things she'd ever said about me; that I wasn't as much of a menace as an attempted murderer. What did that say about our interactions over the last several months?

Eventually, Skip accepted his position and loosened his lips, "Fine. I know you're going to take a joyride through my head while I talk, so get ready," He turned his gaze to me. I felt slimy, "Where to start with you? Well, your powers kept growing, by leaps and bounds. On the X-Men main team by college graduation. Hell, you were considered an omega-level mutant by the time you had your first kid."

Kid? First kid? What the fuck? "Whoa..." There were so many things to unpack there, I didn't know which one to pay attention to first.

"Yes, I know," Miss Frost said in agreement to my stunned demeanor, "You graduate college? And you have children? Well done, Mister Marcher. I can't imagine what self-respecting woman would allow you to father their child. Though, I guess you could change over time. No offense intended."

It had been an attempt to needle me, but truth be told, there was too much truth there to take any rightful offense, "No-no. You... kind of have a point," In my own head, I made for a crappy dad, "Does he have a timestamp on that 'me having kids' thing?"

"I think it's more amazing that he survives for thirty more years," Mister Rasputin commented, arms crossed as he stood by the door, "You are magnet for trouble, Bellamy."

"I... also accept that."

Skip lurched and kicked the table to get everyone's attention, "This isn't funny. You all can't even imagine," He said, glaring straight at me, "If you knew what was good for you, you'd let me get rid of this guy."

He had three tries and hadn't been able to pull it off. Too bad for him, "You don't seem to be having a lot of luck with that, seeing as how I just whupped your ass."

Instead of getting riled up, he chuckled and shook his head, "I honestly thought I would have a chance to finish it here in this time," There was something very unsettling about the calm demeanor of the smile he'd fixed me with, "Oh well. From how much trouble you had surviving me this time, the next trip I make back, you definitely won't be good enough to stop me."

I tried to hide my uncertainty behind more bravado, "Oh, so you got your ass whupped against other Bellamys too. Cool. Good to know," He was beaten and captured, so why did I have such a bad feeling?

"Yeah, I did. And you know what? The farther I go back, the weaker you are, obviously," Skip said, "You're 17, right? Next time I go back, you'll just be a kid. You won't even have powers."

The confidence that he was going to get the chance to do anything against me intrigued Miss Frost, "And who says you're going anywhere, let alone to any other time?"

That was as much as he was willing to tell us on his own, "Oh, now that's one you're going to have to pry for."

"So be it," Miss Frost said as she went to start reading his mind. Across the table, Skip twitched as he tried his best to fight it off. Best of luck with that. He was dealing with one of the premier telepaths on Earth. At this point, there was nothing left to do but kick back and wait for the answers to all of our questions. It didn't take long to get them.

Miss Frost's eyes stopped glowing and a pensive look came over her face, "Good lord," She said quietly.

"What is it, Emma?" Mister Rasputin asked, edging closer, just in case.

Miss Frost shook her head and questioned me, "You said his power was to create portals. Did you ever go through one?"

Indeed. Several times when Skip was putting a hurting on me, "Yeah, but, I mean, it was in and out. I didn't look for anything to it, if there even was anything to see."

"That's not his mutant ability," She deadpanned bluntly, "Creating portals to transport himself through, that's not his power. It's magic, not a mutation."

Okay... so that only begged one obvious question, "What the fuck is his power then?"

"Time travel," Miss Frost said, as though she couldn't believe it herself, "He can move backwards and forward through time on his own."

Mister Rasputin looked at Skip in a new light, "Is impossible."

"It's what it is," Miss Frost said, as a way of reiterating, "He can go forward or backwards. But his control isn't precise."

"That's right," Skip said, seemingly taking glee in the reaction he was getting, "It takes a ton out of me to do it. The farthest I can do it is seven years. The least is three."

Miss Frost explained what she'd come across while digging through Skip's mind, "He's been moving back through time, trying to find an opportunity in the past according to him to kill you, Mister Marcher. He's had no small amount of trouble. Between being savagely beaten by you every time, his body needs time to rest from every trip. About 14 months when he uses it to its limit to perform it again."

What a drawback. But that being said, there were other obvious things that needed to be brought up, "Do you realize that this won't change anything? Killing me in this time won't fix yours. All you can do is prevent that outcome in this timeline," And even then, God knew something else would come along that might screw Earth to the wall.

Skip nodded in agreement, "Right. I plan on living in this time, and I'd rather it didn't go up in smoke while I'm in it. There's nothing that can be done about my time."

I wanted to pull my hair out. I didn't need the bad guy agreeing with me. That was even more infuriating, "But just by telling us this, you've basically ensured things won't be like they were. Something will change, likely for the better. Go back to your time!"

Skip scowled at me, but it was different. He seemed sad. Remorseful, "My power... really sucks. I can go back, and I can go forward, only... when I go back and do something big, everything changes."

"His future doesn't exist anymore," Miss Frost summed up, based on context clues and what she'd gleamed from telepathy, "You've gone too far back and meddled in too many timelines to return home, haven't you? You poor fool."

"The funny thing about having a power no one else has-," Skip said, head lowered to his chest, "-Is that there isn't anyone around who can teach you how to use it. No one around to teach you how it works, the kinds of drawbacks it has. I got lucky when I discovered it. Didn't go back that far. Mom was there in the past I went to, and she understood. She helped me get back."

Miss Frost continued the important parts of the story, "In his quest, he traveled back to before he was born, fought against you, and when he tried to return..."

Skip finished for her, "Nothing was like it was. I wasn't born. My mother didn't know me," He looked up and eyed me intently, "I was 16."

Like it was my fault that he traveled back to try and kill me, "So you messed up, got mad, and sat in it for... how old are you now?" Take some responsibility for you own actions, you git.

Miss Frost of all people, tried to curb my attempts to cut into him with words, "Perhaps, in this instance, you would like to practice discretion," Even she realized how odd it was to hear that coming from her, "Goodness, I can't believe I'm saying this. I used to be evil, you know."

"You mean you're not anymore?" I shot back cheekily. She didn't get upset or show any amusement. The lady was serious, "Why do you care? Better yet, why would I care?"

At this, she hesitated. Big red flag, because Emma Frost didn't hesitate when it came to saying anything, "Because he's your son."

…

…

I slowly turned to Skip, who had become very smug in the meantime, "Hi, dad."

"...Nuh-uh," It was all I could say to respond.

Skip laughed from his belly at having shaken me up, "Go ahead and DNA test us. I guarantee it'll say that you are the father. Put us on daytime TV. Maury Povich is a thing in this year, isn't it?"

All of this was so much to unload. But every time it seemed like I was overwhelmed, something in my brain just... compartmentalized it all. My anxiety shut off and let me clear my head. It happened all the time when I was dealing with something that was too much, but this was the first time I really noticed it, "...Weird and scary as this is... I still don't give a fuck."

I sounded cold. Mister Rasputin clearly noticed, "Bellamy," He tried to reach out to me.

I pushed his hand away and shook my head, "No, sir. Don't 'Bellamy' me. Fuck him. He tried to kill me..." I stopped to count how many jumps Skip had taken in a thirty-year span, "...Four times over the years, at least," I held up my arm in front of Miss Frost to try and keep my momentum going while my dander was still up, "Miss Frost, let me try to save you some trouble and sum this whole thing up. After I popped and destroyed the world, he finally found a use for his powers, planned on going back in time, stopping me and saving everything. Only, he got his ass handed to him by badass future me once or twice."

"Spot on so far," She muttered loud enough to be heard. Despite what she'd said before about my attitude, part of her was enjoying how vindictive I was being. I didn't care. I was on a roll.

"-So, he hides and licks his wounds for a year or whatever, then tries to go home, only to find it ain't home anymore," I continue, my eyes never leaving Skip's as I continued cutting him down, "Now he's scared, and he's pissed. All he's got left is killing me... and no matter how far he goes back, he still can't do it. After that, he gets even angrier about it, and stews in it."

By the time he got to me in particular, he was probably so bitter and spiteful, simply warning me that I'd destroy the world and then just living out his life in this timeline never occurred to him. By then, he just wanted me gone.

With every word I said, Skip seethed more and more, "You don't know anything about me," He said, barely holding his rage back.

If he was teetering on the edge, I gleefully poked him over, "But of course, I do, son."

I threw his own previous taunt back into his face. I said it to mock him. To rub it in. It was cruel. I didn't care. He wasn't my son. I didn't raise the motherfucker. I wasn't there when my wife/girlfriend/whatever popped him out, and I damn sure wasn't there to put him in her in the first place. He was some other me's son, and we were not the same person. As far as I was concerned, Skip was a stranger. At best, his closeness to me was the equivalent of some distant cousin I'd never met that would only come out of the woodwork if they heard I won the lottery.

"I'm gonna rip you apart, you piece of shit!"

...Just a tad more homicidal.

Skip lunged at me, bucked against his bonds, trying to get to me and tear at my face. From how he was restrained, there was no chance he would reach me. I didn't flinch, "Hm. Not in this timeline you won't. We've already proven that. You'll have to travel back and kill a me who can't even fight back," I continued to dig into him, "Even at the worst version of me you're going to see, after years of experience that I don't have and you do, you still couldn't beat me. How does that make you feel?" His hateful stare was all the response I needed, "I'm done with you."

As I went to leave, Mister Rasputin stopped me at the door. I turned to him when he set a hand on my shoulder. His face was full of concern, "That was cruel Bellamy," I knew that. Maybe I would feel bad about it later, but in the moment, I couldn't be assed to, "Do you not care that he's going to travel back and kill the past version of you?"

"Why? It's not going to do anything to present me. Different timeline," I said, softly, "If that makes his stupid plan that he wasted part of his life on worth it, good for him. He couldn't even beat me on easy mode, so now he's gonna go back through the tutorial?"

Skip still heard me. It was hard to tell which part of my tirade he'd taken the most offense to, "I'm not leaving this timeline until I kill you," He declared.

I looked over my shoulder at him. There were tears in his eyes. Tears of pure pain and hatred. I accepted that, "You know where to find me."

Maybe he wasn't anything but an enemy to me, but despite trying to murder me several times, to him I had still been his father... and I had said all of those things without remorse. If there had ever been a chance of compromise and possible reconciliation, I had ended it.