It seemed like a long time ago, especially for him, but…it wasn't, really. Not if you think about how long it had been since the Crusades or the Egyptian empire. But nobody was there to testify for that. Nobody was here to testify for this, either. Nobody except him. In some ways, it had been a long time--over a decade. That was long to him. Heck, even a minute seemed long to him. But sometimes time mashes together and it's hard to keep a bearing on what was a long time ago and what wasn't.

He probably wouldn't wish the memories on anyone else; they all had their own burdens to handle. Society dictated that one must handle one's problems alone and in silence. You can drip poison about another in somebody's ear. You can gossip, you can tell strange, random things that nobody else really cared about. But your true secrets were ones that you kept locked inside you. Only people involved with the story of those secrets knew.

But still, sometimes he envied everyone else who was involved in the secrets—none of them remembered. His mother—she was dead, had been for most of these events, and had influenced many. Who knows? If she hadn't died…

But you can't start down that path. You can't, or else you will feel like your head is going to explode, and you go and run or play guitar or watch TV until you're numb again.

His father—it was hard to tell. His father knew most of those events, but he was old, old in many ways, and these events weren't as sharp.

His sister—he didn't know where to start. She hadn't even been there for some of it. The silent dinners, the confusion and obedience and yearning to measure up. And what parts she had been there for, they had been there, but changed--by their dad, nonetheless--and now they were back again. He was just as confused by it as she was, honestly. But he couldn't let them see that. He couldn't let them see that he was hurting, that he wasn't as insensitive as they thought he was.

Sometimes, he wished that the scars he put on his body would stay. But they didn't. They never did. He was fast, so why wouldn't his whole body be fast? It made sense. Sometimes, he wished that someone would be able to see how hurt he was, how he tried to translate emotional pain to physical pain but could never even them out. Sometimes, he wished that someone would really look beyond the "I'm okay" to the thoughts, the feelings, the pain that kept him up at night.

But at the same time, he couldn't let it all go. He was used to it—any lighter burden would just feel… wrong, somehow. He knew some of it was bad for him—it was an addiction, it didn't help anything—but he needed it. It was his. His father had taken his will. His sister had taken his bravery. His friends used up his bravado, although unknowingly. His nightmares took his peace.

The X-men had taken his honor. They had painted him as the bad guy yet again. He was the 'evil' to their 'good'. They didn't get it at all. Sure, some of them had problems; Miss Perfect sometimes felt so much it made her ill, One-Eye had lost his parents, Fuzzball had been abandoned by his mom, Skunk-girl had been betrayed by almost everybody.

But to them, he was a monster. He was callous and uncaring. They didn't know that emotion was taken as weakness. They didn't get that 'pretty boys' had to put up a tough front to survive. They didn't realize that you couldn't really win in this world—not if you're different, anyway. The best you can do is to swim against the current until your mind or your body gives up.

But this addiction, these secrets, these feelings: they were his. He could actually control them. Everybody looks for control someplace.

Pietro Django Maximoff's control was in knowing the whole story. In knowing the whole story, and continuing to fight the current.

A/N: Sorry, everybody!! I know that this is all over the place, but I was writing as it came to me, almost like a person's thoughts. And I know, I should be doing more with other stuff, and I REALLY shouldn't be starting new stuff, but this sort of came to me. I really don't know where it came from, but I would appreciate reviews, with or without criticism—I really don't care which. I wrote this late at night, and I am happy with it, for me. I really will put up another one-shot for another character on this.

And I will write another chapter for "Crystal and Brimstone". Anybody, if you have read/are reading/are going to read that story, PLEASE tell me any ideas you have for it, as I am experiencing major writer's block with that story at the moment. Thank you!!