Work Text:
Tabby finds Ric in the bathroom with the lights off. She came to find him because Shatty's been tearing up the training room in a rage and when she asked him what's the matter he looked like he wanted to rip her throat out, but she stops when she sees Ric because he's sitting in the bathtub. He's shirtless, folded over and holding himself like it hurts to move, and it takes her a minute to connect the dots between the sounds he's making and the fact that he's crying. She's never seen Ric cry before.
"Shit, Ric," she says, "What the hell happened to you?"
He shrugs, not looking at her.
"Seriously, Ric," she says again, taking a step towards him. He flinches, almost imperceptibly, and something ugly congeals in her gut. "C'mon, talk to me."
He just shrugs again, then winces like it hurts to move.
"Ric," she begs, voice cracking, "Please."
Ric lifts his head and Tabby gasps, hands coming up to cover her mouth. One eye is half swollen shut and there's a bloody cut at his hairline and the white of his black eye is red like a blood vessel burst or something. More blood gushes from his nose and his lip, which is fat and angry red-purple. There's bruises on his wrists and it looks like someone took a battering ram to his side.
"I know," he croaks, "I look like shit."
"What the hell happened to you?" she repeats. She means for it to come out indignant, pissed off, but her voice shakes and she knows she sounds as scared as she feels. "Was it the MLF?"
He shakes his head, tipping back so his throat is exposed as he stares dully at the ceiling. "Nah. Just some assholes." He pinches his nose, "Ah, mierda, that stings."
Ric sounds like he's about to laugh, except for the thickness in his voice that means he's been crying. He takes a swig from a can of beer that she hadn't noticed before and all she can think of is Terry, insisting that she's fine even as her voice slurs and Jimmy has to carry her to bed. Ric presses the beer can to his black eye. The buzz of florescent lights is suddenly almost overwhelming.
"Stop looking at me like that," Ric snaps at her.
She jolts, "Like what?"
"Like I'm Terry," he says bitterly. "I ain't a drunk."
"I'm more worried about the fact that you look like you went ten rounds with Cable," she retorts, trying to keep her voice light and mostly failing.
"Fuck him," Ric snaps, and she bristles.
"Did he do this?" she asks, suddenly ready to go light his ass up. She didn't think Cable was like that, but you can never tell with men like him. "I'll kill him, I swear to-"
"No," Ric says. "It was just some random assholes on the street, had a problem with a mutie walkin' around. That's it, Tabs, really."
And she's not stupid, okay? She knows what people do to mutants. She's seen it happen. But she also knows that getting shit on for being a mutant doesn't make Ric act this way. "Yeah, except you wouldn't be actin' like this if that were true," she says.
Ric stiffens; bullseye, yippee, ten points to her. "Fuck off," he hisses.
She moves, sitting down next to him in the tub. "Make me."
Ric tenses and the cup with the toothbrushes clatters across the sink and for a second, she thinks he actually might. Then he slumps and takes another long pull from the his beer. "It wasn't cause I'm a mutant," he whispers. "Or cause I'm Mexican," he adds, before she can ask.
She runs through the list of reasons someone might want to beat the shit out of Ric otherwise and comes up empty. "Did you hit on someone's girl?" It's not his style, but she can't think of anything else.
He smiles bitterly. "Close, but try again."
"Someone's sister?" she asks, at a loss.
"Nah."
"Mother?"
Ric chokes on his beer. "Jesus, Tabby Cat."
She swats his shoulder, careful of the bruises, "Told ya not to call me that."
"Yeah, no, none of the above," he mutters. Then, "Try the other team."
It takes her a minute, the words turning over in her head until- "You're gay?!" she shrieks.
Ric flinches, lunging and covering her mouth. "Don't fucking shout it," he hisses. "Maldición, eso duele," he hisses through clenched teeth, curling in on himself and staring at the chipped porcelain of the tub.
"Ric, are you fucking with me?" she asks, disbelieving. He's always talking up how much he likes chicks. Then again, maybe he was scared.
He shakes his head, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I got drunk and stupid and read the situation wrong. S'my fault."
She thinks of Shatty in the training room, tearing the place practically to shreds. "Was Shatty-?"
Ric nods. "He was there. He knows." And fuck, he sounds terrified.
"I'll kick his ass for you," she says after a minute.
"No," Ric shakes his head, scrubbing at his face. "He doesn't- He didn't fuck me up. He tried to kill the pendejos who did, actually."
"Well, he's currently trying to destroy the training room," she tells him.
He snorts. "He's pissed cause I wouldn't let him kill them. And that I told him to fuck off and leave me alone." He rubs a thumb over the scarred skin on his wrist.
"Ric?" she asks, "Are you serious about the, y'know, being gay?"
"You think I did this for kicks?" he spits furiously, "You think I hit on a guy cause I like gettin' my ass beat? Fuck off, Tabby." Then to her horror, his voice breaks. "I wish I wasn't. I wish I was dead."
Her blood goes cold, and she remembers back when she first met Ric and he was hanging off a ledge with her clinging to his waist and he told her he thought that it would be better if he just let go. He'd scared her then and he's scaring her now. "Don't you ever fucking say that," she snaps, grabbing him by the shoulders, "Don't even think it!"
"It's true. Hell, the world would be better off without me. One less screw up fag." His voice is empty, strained.
"I wouldn't," she insists fiercely, "I wouldn't be better off without you." She feels like crying. "I need you, okay? You can't leave me." Because Ric is her best friend. He gets her in ways no one else ever has. He nods, sniffling. She cups his face in her hands and wipes at the tears slipping from his eyes. It smears, mixing with the blood on his face, and she pulls him into a hug. "Promise me you won't leave."
"Tabs," he says, sounding pained.
"I don't mean the team, Ric. You can do whatever the hell you wanna, okay? I mean," she swallows, "Don't fucking leave me alone." Her voice cracks. The room smells like blood and cheap beer.
"Yeah," he says, a tired whisper, "Yeah, okay." It's not all that convincing, but it's a start.