Chapter 21
-Purpose-
The sweet mix of spice and cinnamon simmered quietly on the surface of the little chicken, the cooking skin puckering and hissing from the immense heat of the gas stove below it as if it were its own entity. She picked up a meat poker and with one swift move, punctured the flesh to the bone.
She leant in and allowed a few wafts of the meal to enter her nose, allowing herself to become lost in the aromatic fumes.
Chicken had never quite been a favoured taste of Marie's; she preferred the succulence of turkey, or perhaps a duck. However, pregnancy had done strange things to her, and this was perhaps one of them. She found herself craving the most strangest of things, with her preference for them as fickle as the desire that had manifested them.
Therefore, on a whim Marie had entered the kitchen and had begun to cook the pre-plucked bird. She had been safely assured that she would not be disturbed by Tobias for he had locked himself in his study, engrossed no doubt in some voluminous text.
He had been a little overbearing as of late, insisting that Marie confine herself to the comforts of the sofa or the outdoor setting, whilst he took up the household duties and attended to her every need. It was wonderful, she supposed, having a university professor for a husband. New York University had taken a short break, and even if they hadn't taken such a break, the time-table of professor was far more flexible than that of, say, a carpenter.
Marie knew of friends whose husbands were hardly at home, working hard throughout the day and so knackered come the evening, could hardly stand let alone bask in the glow of this miracle.
For that she was thankful, to have a husband so devoted to his family. Marie knew that Tobias would rather stab himself than to think that he had failed his family. It was such a thinking that had driven him to such lengths to save and protect Elsa, to ensure her life when the rest had been cut so horrifically short.
Marie looked down and patted her belly, feeling the smooth round curve. She could do nothing but sigh in relief; the conception had been a long time coming, more so a hard won victory for the both of them.
Marie could not explain it, the love she felt for a being she hadn't even met. Her only visual was the ultrasonic picture she had, and the rest was relatively to her imagination. She was not usually a superstitious woman, nor was she inclined to religion of any denomination, but she liked to think that this child was perhaps a reincarnation of Elsa's family. A culmination of all of them, or perhaps just one; it did not matter.
She never could shake the eerie coincidence of the deaths of the Mullers in England, and the conception of her child. What she could also not shake, was the development of her child. It had only been about four and a half months, give or take a few days, and yet her child's spirit was extraordinary.
Her gynaecologist had been astounded, in all truth, at the growth of him. He had even asked Marie and Tobias if they had lied about the date of conception, for the child's expansion was beyond what he had seen.
Despite being medically premature, the child had the maturity of an eight-month foetus.
It was their combined genetics, Marie liked to think; the mutual strength of two sturdy parents.
She had been so engrossed in her thoughts, so far off in her mind, Marie had noticed that the chicken had started to burn. It's golden skin had blackened, fine wafts of smoke emanating from the tortured body.
Panicking, Marie hastily turned off the gas and set about flapping away the incriminating smoke. She had proceeded her task without Tobias' permission and whilst the aromatic smells would have alerted him, at least then she could have coaxed him with a cooked meal.
This was sure to earn her a hands-on-hips.
In fact, she had been so taken by her own thoughts, Marie had noticed the heavy pattering of Tobias' footsteps.
"Marie?"
Marie turned slowly on her heel, clutching an incriminating blackened tea towel in her left hand. By all means, Marie was right, for there Tobias was standing with his hands on his hips and an ugly scowl on his face.
"Marie, what are-?" He asked, squinting his eyes, "What are you doing?"
Marie had to admit that Tobias did look relatively thinner, a debatable notion he had been trying so vehemently to prove to her. He had been working hard, Tobias. Scared that his weight would hinder the years he would have left to spend with his wife and future son, concerned that his body would prematurely combust.
But she supposed pointing this out would not save her a scolding.
Nevertheless, feeling empowered, she threw back her shoulders and eyed her husband defiantly.
"Making dinner, what does it look like?" she snipped, raising a brow.
"Making it, or burning it?"
Marie scoffed. "I wanted it that way. Felt like charred chicken-"
"How many times have I told you?" interjected Tobias, advancing towards her, "I'll not have you up and about the house for prolonged periods of time,"
Without allowing a moment's protest, Tobias gently clutched Marie by the waist and steered her out of the kitchen.
"Oh, Tobias!"
"Now, now don't argue with me,"
"Tobias, release me!" shrieked Marie, as he plopped her in the nearest dining seat.
"Darling, you're pregnant. You need to be careful," He cooed, looking down at her as if she were a child.
"Careful of what?" laughing Marie, "Roasting a whole chicken?"
"Yes,"
"But Tobias…"
"No buts," he said, shaking his head, "Stay,"
He headed back into the kitchen, scuttling about as he pulled various pots and pans out of cupboards.
"Tobias..." Marie began, tilting her head.
"You like saying my name don't you?" he smiled, slipping on one of her frilled aprons. Marie could not help but giggle; he looked so ridiculous.
"I'll cook. I told you I would," he said, puffing out his chest as if he were Superman on a mission.
"And you sure did," laughed Marie, her hand resting on her belly, "But I don't think the Healthy and Safety Department would have considered your meal entirely edible..."
Tobias stopped an exasperated look on his face as he raised a finger as if to make a notion.
"Meatloaf, is a very complicated meal," He stated.
Meatloaf was perhaps the most basic and deceiving name for the concoction Tobias had managed to come up with the previous week. What it really had been, was a mix of battered meats, pepper and salt, misplaced spices and whole cloves of garlic that been placed for 'added flavour'. Evidently, Tobias had watched far too many cooking programmes on the television, and thus, had considered him a master of the trade before even attempting it.
'It's hypothetical' he had said, 'Anyone with two hands can do it.'
But nonetheless, Tobias insisted and whilst he had the serious potential to commit manslaughter with his 'skills', Marie did not have the heart to put him down.
So she watched him from afar, hustling far too much for what seemed to be a simple omelette for two. It was incredibly heartening, seeing him so enthusiastic and determined, to see him in such an unfamiliar yet welcome light.
"Look at you," she smiled, watched as the bow of the apron flew about behind him, "Never thought I'd ever see you like this,"
"It's a strange world, m'dear," laughed Tobias, spreading his hand to the side and in the process, flicking bits of raw egg onto the fridge from the spatula he was clutching.
She looked to the side, and observed the various photographs upon the mantel of their fireplace. It was adorned with pictures of family, both Tobias' and her own. A battered and white spot flecked photograph of her parents sat proudly beside of a picture of baby Elsa, that too shouldering a shot of two, maybe three, year old Klaus. The cherub like child was clad in a pair of miniature trousers and suspenders, giggling voraciously at something out of the shot.
Marie had not been heavily acquainted with Klaus, but it did not take much to have noticed the thinly disguised sadness in his eyes, that deep loss of confidence following the manifestation of his mutation. It had always struck her, that stark difference between that brooding young man and the careless toddler in the photograph.
Her eyes wandered a little, finally resting on her wedding photograph. Marie had never been much for latest trends, opting for masculine work clothes that often come under scrutiny by her overly feminine friends. However, she had been liberal with her wedding dress, a true reflection of the 1950's.
"Do you remember when we first met?" she asked quietly, her eyes still trained on the photograph.
"No," Tobias called sarcastically from the kitchen.
"Felt like someone had bashed me over the head," Marie continued, her voice a little dreamy in tone, "You were, the most handsome man I had ever met."
"Were?"
"The first time we met, was when Professor…" she said, thinking hard as she tried to remember the name, "Professor O'Brien, I think, introduced us,"
"Actually, it wasn't."
Tobias came out of the kitchen, apron still on and a towel wrapped around his hands. He wiped them clean before folding the dirtied towel and placing it neatly on the bench top. He sighed and leaned back, running his hand over his chin thoughtfully.
"The first time we met was on the third day of the academic year, 1937," he said, smiling at the memory, "I remember you used to drive that ruddy old Morris Minor,"
He looked to her. "Do you remember?"
"Of course," she smiled, thinking back on that aged beauty, still might have been a mighty specimen if been crashed into a fence by her brother Luka.
"I can remember getting out of my own vehicle, and when I noticed yours, all I could think about was what old bat was going to step out of it," he laughed, "And, yet there you were. Blonde hair knotted in that bun thing women used to do back then, big blue eyes and the tiniest, the tiniest nose. You had this, this thin little pink shirt on, a maroon skirt, if my memory serves me well. No stockings, no jacket, just that. Nothing frilly, nothing special like the others, nothing to say you cared for those sort of things. But I remember thinking, 'Gosh, she must be freezing.'"
Marie let out a tiny breath, watching with almost teary eyes as her husband reminisced. He seemed to have withdrawn into himself, talking to himself as much as her.
"You, you asked me 'which way to the science block?' But you kept looking at your feet, twirling your hair with your little fingers. The quietest voice, I could-I could hardly hear you," he said, absently twirling the curls of his own hair. He backed off the bench top, and walked to her. He kneeled before her and clutched her cheek in his hand, looking her right in the eye.
"And all time, I could not help but wonder why such a beautiful, such a perfect example of God's creation would ever take the time out to speak to me,"
Marie smiled, taking his hand into his own. She gently pulled on his hair and kissed him lightly.
"Well she did, and she's never looked back," she said, kissing him once more.
Smiling, Tobias rested his head upon her lap, Marie taking to stroking his thick hair with her fingers. She closed her eyes, realising that she had never felt sure of her place in the world until this very moment.
Everything was coming together as it were, running smooth for everyone. She and Tobias were expecting a child, Elsa too seemed to have found love again.
That was a bonus, it truly was. To think that even after such trauma, the young girl had not shut herself away from life and all its offerings. It was-
Marie stopped, her eyes fluttering open. She placed her hand on her belly.
"Ooh,"
"What?" asked Tobias, snapping his head back up.
Marie stuttered, her mind racing. "Oh, I..I…"
There! There it was.
"Oh my Lord, oh my-!" cried Marie, "Tobias, he's kicking, he's kicking!"
"What?" laughed Tobias, almost falling backwards.
"Quick, quick, quick, quick! Put your hand…"
"I…"
He felt, the tiny ripple against hand. The ripple of that child's tiny foot against his sturdy hands.
"Do you feel it?" Marie asked quietly, tears seeping out her eyes.
"Oh my God," sighed Tobias, his own eyes wetting as well.
He looked to his wife, the two unable to hide their joy. They laughed hysterically, clutching each other with as much love and as much strength as they could muster. It was beautiful, the miracle of life. The ability to express the love between two people by such a striking and ethereal means.
Right now, Tobias felt like the luckiest man in the world, felt like he could take on anything. Nothing could stop him.
They settled for a moment, however the chance to pick up the excitement again, was quelled by the rapping at the door.
Quiet, polite knocks, but knocks nonetheless.
"Who could that be, at this hour?" Tobias frowned, looking to the clock. It read nine thirty in the evening, and whilst this was not incredibly late, the time to receive any pre-warned guests was well over.
A salesman, perhaps? At this hour, though? A desperate salesman, maybe?
"One second," Tobias told Marie, his wife nodding as he placed a swift kiss in her hair.
Tobias was still smiling, careful to wipe the tears though. He straightened his shirt and quickly ran his hand over his tousled hair. Even if this was a relatively unprecedented guest, Tobias did not want to appear sloppy.
He was still smiling, even as he opened the door and the biting outside wind slapped him harshly across the face. Still smiling even as he observed the back of his guest; still smiling even as he watched the burnt char of the stranger's cigarette fall to the ground with a tap of their finger.
That left him, however, a brick falling through him as the man turned his immense back. Tobias could feel his heart sinking, his knees quietly knocking in fear. His mouth turned dry, but he did his best to remain calm, but even he could not shake the dread that shot through him as the stranger spoke;
"Tobias, my old friend,"
His blonde hair was unmistakeable, the strength of his heavy jaw, nor the glittering grey eyes that looked out from underneath his embossed brow. A smile so cruel, yet equally charming, one Tobias had seen so many times before.
"Lewis Worthington,"
He felt terrible, his stomach sinking. He had known from the beginning, the chances they had and that the odds were to be unforgiving and certainly not in their favour. Things hadn't been going well for them as of late, hope fading with every loss. Nevertheless, he had remained determined and unmoving in his stance, resolute to come out victorious.
But there were only seconds left in the game, mere fractions of a moment in time and despite his prayers, defeat was imminent.
A flash of burgundy curls swished past him, long lean limbs following.
"Yeah! That's right, attaboy!" cried Sean Cassidy, his nose inches from the rotund, television screen.
"Oh, crap," Alex heard Hank mutter, the bespectacled boy shaking his head as he rubbed his eyes.
Alex watched in horror as the Redskins' quarterback sped down the vast grey field, clutching the dark football with fierce purpose. He seemed like a bullet, dodging every obstacle in his way and barging through those who would not allow him passage. He had a single and solid cause, and it seemed nothing would hinder him.
Alex slowly stood up, his jaw clenching.
"Shit, shit," Alex muttered, his voice slowly building to a crescendo both primal and primitive in tone, "No, no, no, no, no!"
There was a roar within the television, coupled and matched only by Sean's own triumphant cries.
Alex and Hank threw their heads back in dismay, lamenting in disbelief as the quarterback touched down, and by a mere point, grabbed the game.
"YEAH!"
Sean's howls was deafening, the red-haired boy laughing and spluttering, shrieking an ululated war-cry as he jumped up onto the sofa. He fist-pumped the air several times, shouting and shrieking all the while.
"Man! What-?" Alex was lost for words, still standing motionless in front of the television.
"That was just…" Hank seemed equally dumbfounded, although he himself was seated.
Still standing upon the couch, Sean pointed a finger each at Hank and Alex, his voice escaping him as if he were singing.
He wiggled his hips.
"Who are the mega-dickhead losers who now owe me forty dollars?" he asked, placing a hand against his ear, "YOU TWO!"
Hank and Alex scoffed and catcalled, the latter plopping himself back down.
Sean had proceeded to perform a little victory dance, holding his arms close to him as he slowly spun in an abstract circular motion.
"Go Sean, go Sean, go round and round, go Sean…"
"That's just not right," muttered Hank, shaking his head at Sean's spectacle.
Alex could not agree more. Sean's performance, on any other given day, would have been rather amusing. It would have been something to laugh at, something to ridicule the outlandish boy for. However, given the context, Banshee's victory boogie was more akin to rubbing salt into a wound.
It was the finals game, Alex's lifelong team pitted against an understated, but formidable enemy. Every game, from the moment his first word had left his little mouth, save the years he'd spent bouncing around the orphanage, Alex had followed the Browns.
There was not a moment in his early life, in which 'football' had been a part of his daily conversation. Times had changed of course, and life had ordered a back-seating of such trivial matters; his parents' deaths, those dire years in the cramped orphanage, and the series of both joyous and tragic events that ultimately led to Lacey's death, his incarceration and finally his induction into this band of mutants.
To Elsa.
Alex was not a superstitious young man, God was not someone he was particularly invested in though it would taste a lie to say he had not turned to the Big Man in his darkest moments. He did not like to dwell on stars, pre written fortunes, destinies; that entire Bohemian crap. But for once, he could not help but feel something more. Something deep within him that stirred so magnanimously, he did not dare challenge it.
Purpose.
That feeling that this hurdle, this prospect of both the creation and the destruction of a nuclear wipe-out of man-kind, was merely the beginning of something far more greater and monumental than any of them.
But for now, as he watched Raven enter the lounge followed swiftly by his dark haired Elsa, Alex liked to think that all that mattered was the present. This little bubble he and his friends lived in. At least for another few months.
He gave Elsa a casual wink as she sat down, the girl returning the action with such a new found confidence that it took Alex aback.
"What's going on?" asked Elsa, sounding a little unsure as Sean's dancing escalated.
"Browns just lost out to the Redskins," announced Hank glumly, his utterance exemplified by a high-pitched howl from Sean.
"Oh, man," groaned Raven, slumping back in her seat.
Elsa squinted her eyes at her friends, a little confused.
"I'm not sure I follow," she said.
"Football," offered Hank hastily.
Ah, American Football. A game Elsa neither understood for its objectives nor the sentimental values it held to the citizens of this nation.
Sean puffed his chest out, sighing contently; it seemed all his energy had left him. He ceased his ridiculous behaviour, settling himself smugly between Hank and Alex.
"Haven't you heard of them?" he asked, "The Redskins or the Browns?"
"No, of course not," said Elsa, shaking her head, "I don't follow your…your football,"
Gridiron was never something Elsa had particularly followed, more so because her passion of choice, like any true English man or woman, had been and always will be English football. It was the proper football in her eyes, in which contact with the ball was actually made with the foot rather than clutching it to one's chest and passing it around like a hot potato. If one wanted to do that, rugby seemed a far more sound choice.
"What do you mean, 'your football'?" sneered Alex, leaning forward in his seat.
Elsa smiled and shook her head. She supposed one of the downsides of having an American mutant boyfriend that despite their common ground, there were the obvious culture clashes.
"Meaning, I'm English and I follow the only real football there is,"
"Soccer?"
"Yes,"
"That is not a game," he scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Excuse me?" Elsa smiled. This was, of course, all play. Nothing serious. But she could already feel her patriotic fire igniting within her. It was not a matter of national security of course, but to insult the beautiful game?
"I mean, all you do is kick around a ball," smirked Alex, his blonde hair falling into his mischievous blue eyes, "We Americans, we're real sportsmen. Real grunt."
"Yeah, real men who play contact," agreed Hank, though it was clear he meant his words in a metaphoric and collective sense, rather than a literal definition for himself personally.
"Real men?" leered Elsa.
"Yeah,"
"I bet your 'real men' could never bend a ball like George Best."
"We so could!" exclaimed Sean. He motioned between himself, Hank and Alex, "We so could,"
Hank seemed a little uncomfortable by these words, and Elsa couldn't help but smile knowingly. Sean had not made a clear admission, but the meaning was comprehensible. A game between them would be a fair way to settle their dispute and even for neutral fence sitters such as Raven, such an exercise would simply become an outlet of testing her new found physical strength. Hank, on the other hand, was not a sportsman; more a spectator than a player and Elsa knew that any such physical exertion did not tickle his meticulous fancy.
"All right," said Alex suddenly, nodding his head and clasping his hands together, "Let's put that into action then,"
"What?" Raven tilted her head, her long locks cascading down her shoulder and hanging like a curtain.
"We'll have a game. Right now. Outside,"
"Football?" asked Elsa
"Soccer," Alex corrected.
"Football,"
"Socc-"
Hank held out his hands to his sides, passing swift glances between Elsa and Alex. He appeared thoroughly perturbed.
"Whoa, whoa," he asked, sounding just like he looked, "A game? Like an actual game?"
"Yes, Hank, an actual game," mimicked Sean, shaking his head dismissively at the other boy.
It did not need verbal confirmation, or the shake of hands. It was only a brief moment of silence, but the teens seemed to agree subconsciously, all springing to their feet at the same time. And despite his clear reservations, Hank too joined in the frivolity.
Already in the dull grey tracksuits, the young mutants began to file out of the lounge and out into the open.
"Yes, yeah!" whooped Sean, running full pelt ahead of the others to the back shed, no doubt eager to pull some aged ball from its deep and hoarded interior.
Elsa laughed. There had been a few moments in which she wondered whether she would ever find herself playing games again, let alone her beloved football. The situation she found herself in called for grown up maturity and responsibility; sweet childhood and all its simplicity had to be left behind, taken over by the duties of adult hood.
Elsa glanced over her shoulder and noticed Hank trailing behind.
"Come on, Hank," she smiled, slowing herself down so now she was at his pace, "Don't you like-?"
"I do," Hank interjected, "But I've never been much of a physical being, if you understand. Sit me in the stands with a corndog and a scarf and I'll scream as loud as the next person. But playing..."
"This isn't the primary school playground," reassured Elsa, rubbing his arm, "No one's going to judge you. It's all a bit of fun, innit?"
Hank looked to her, an eyebrow raised as his lip curled.
"Forgive me," laughed Elsa, "Street colloquialism has a way of finding itself into my speech,"
She pulled him forward, tugging on his sleeve as they spilled out onto the front lawn, although 'lawn' was rather an understatement to say the least.
"Come on,"
Alex kicked the ball high into the air and caught it neatly in his arms. He booted the ball to Sean, who stopped the bag of air with his foot with as much grace as Best himself.
The red headed joker grinned a wicked grin and pointed a long finger right at Elsa, his hand shaped into a gun. "You are going down, English woman!"
Tobias watched Lewis like a falcon, his eyes flickering at every movement, his gaze unwavering. Every twitch, every flicker of muscle and every breath Tobias kept a weather eye. Despite his passive appearance and his uncanny ability to turn to stone, Tobias knew Lewis could move with surprising speed when he felt like it.
It simply would not do to assume innocence. Worthington was unpredictable, by every definition of the word, and Tobias knew all too well the consequences of allowing oneself to drop one's guard around such a man.
Lewis sat slumped in his seat, his hands lying lifelessly on either armrest, his blue eyes wandering around his surroundings.
Tobias observed Lewis with keen interest, a natural reaction to anyone who had been absent from the every day for a long time.
Lewis' once immaculate golden hair had lost its lustre a little, slight grey hairs making an appearance at the roots. There were crow's feet nestling at the corners of his eyes, long lines at the sides of his mouth where his smile would leave its trace, and sitting markedly against his alabaster skin dark pools around the bottoms of his sockets. Despite the hard trials of life set against his skin, Lewis' handsome disposition still twinkled with that same frightening quality that had been with him from the moment he had been able to form his first words.
It made Tobias feel a little nostalgic, bringing him back to a place that seemed so long ago and other-worldly. Lewis was a much of his past, as he in his. Nothing Tobias could do would ever change that, nor could Lewis regardless of his money and his privilege.
But Tobias could not imagine that this was a social call, and given the circumstance, it seemed next to impossible. And even if it was, Tobias wasn't sure how long he could keep up the pleasantries.
Tobias had not spoken to Lewis for a number of years now and the fact that his visit followed all that had happened this year, he could not help but feel anxious.
There was something not right about this, something heady and sinister lurking in the shadows. It made Tobias feel uneasy; it was Dieter who had played in the shadows, not he. And look where that took him.
Nevertheless, Tobias decided to be as pleasant a host as possible for he knew that no good would come from aggravating Lewis Worthington.
In an attempt to revive the pleasantries, Tobias grabbed two tumblers from his crystal cabinet and poured each a few sloshes of whisky. He poured his own glass significantly less than his counterpart's, although he had a feeling he would be needing far more.
He handed the tumbler over.
"Long time, no see my friend," smiled Lewis, as he lifted his glass in recognition. His eyes twinkled, making Tobias feel all the more uncomfortable.
"Yes," agreed Tobias, taking a seat across from his childhood familiar, "How long as it been?"
The door between the kitchen and the living room clicked open, sliding noisily the length of its rail as Marie pushed it along.
"Too long to count, unfortunately," chuckled Lewis.
Tobias watched as Lewis' eyes left the rims of his tumbler, following Marie's figure as she sat herself upon the armrest of Tobias' seat. He could see him lingering on her swollen belly.
Marie had only met Lewis once, at their wedding, and even that had been rather fleeting. Even then, she did not care for him. But now more than ever, perhaps even more than Tobias himself, she harboured a deep resentment for the man who had destroyed their family.
But much to Tobias' surprise, Marie managed to paste a smile genuine in appearance and a tone as sweet as honey.
"What are you doing in the United States?" she asked, pulling at her sleeve absently.
"Business," Lewis returned simply, flashing his pearly white teeth. It was such a sly smile, such a deception on his part. It reminded him of the all the childhood tales he was told about the cunning fox, the way he'd grin so convincingly that his poor charge believed a word he said, and did not realise their vital mistake until it was all too late.
Perhaps it was Tobias' own paranoia, maybe the years of friendship had finetuned his senses, but he could not help but detect an ominous undertone.
"For Worthington Laboratories?"
"I guess you could say that,"
That smile again.
Tobias could feel his mouth drying, his tongue taking on a rubbery texture. This had something to do with Elsa, and though he did not know what it was exactly, Tobias could sense that she was in danger.
He wanted nothing more than to throw Lewis back into the streets, lock up his doors, call the police and alert Elsa of any impending danger.
But there was simply no opportunity to do so, not without raising suspicion from Lewis.
Tobias would simply have to sit it out and see how it would unfold.
A silence of platonic length passed between the trio, the air thick with tension. It was if he and Lewis were a pair of bestial predators, each vigilant to the other. Wandering who would make the first move and who exactly was the quarry and the hunter, when each was sure of their conviction.
At last, it was Marie to break the silence.
"Would you like some tea? Biscuits, maybe?" she asked, standing up as she tenderly clutched her belly, "I don't think whisky is an appropriate drink for a guest."
Tobias wondered if she was planning to slip rat poison or some other illicit substance into their guest's drink. It certainly wasn't beyond her.
"Oh, if that's alright with you," grinned Lewis, placing the glass upon the coffee table.
"Of course,"
She disappeared behind the kitchen door, her shadow playing daintily behind the frosted glass as she closed it.
"I warn you, I won't be staying too long," Lewis called after her. He chuckled dryly at Tobias, he himself returning the gesture, before getting to his feet. He clutched his hands behind his back, circling the living room with detached interest.
"Congratulations," he said, pointing his finger towards the kitchen, "I know you've been waiting a long time,"
"Yes," Tobias stood up himself.
Lewis stopped, tilting his head up at an angle. "I can remember those looks you used to sport, whenever one of Dieter's children was born,"
Tobias could feel the atmosphere changing, the spell breaking.
He did not care to admit it, but for many years Tobias had a felt certain emptiness when his nephews and niece were born. He loved them dearly, from the moment he had held their tiny hands in his own, but he every time he had, he had only been reminded of his own lack of family.
Lewis knew this well, but his words suggested something akin to resentment and even hatred, and that Tobias would not tolerate.
"Excuse me?"scoffed Tobias, tightening his already crossed arms.
"Always felt second best to Dieter, didn't you Toby?" snickered Lewis, "Even when we were kids,"
Tobias' jaw clenched.
"No more than you Lou," shot Tobias, feeling pathetically proud of his little quip.
It was true, both he and Lewis had harbored varying degrees of jealously towards Dieter. However, for Tobias, his love for his brother had always triumphed over his envy. Lewis on the hand, had always found such hurdles difficult to overcome, and as they grew, those hurdles became tremendously intricate.
It was clear Lewis was still feeling the sting of the decisions made in their years as young men, but after such time and the fruits that had been cultivated by life, Tobias found it surprising Lewis' hatred was still very much the beast it had once been.
"Please don't tell me you're still hurting, even after all this time?" scoffed Tobias, his mouth hanging slightly.
Lewis sniffed, swallowing hard as his Adam's apple bobbled in its place.
"I don't think I'll ever stop hurting. I mean, it killed me when she was alive," conceded Lewis, his voice quiet but grave. He turned round, rubbed his stubbled chin with his hand.
For a moment, Tobias saw a hint of grief in those unforgiving blue eyes. A rare notion, but not impossible. Tobias knew more than most the sorrow Lewis harbored, the pain he had felt at the hands of others and for that, he was able to see past that horrid exterior.
But any return to a state of mind that had once exhibited humanity, a return to what once was, became entirely lost as Lewis' hidden smile became as blaring as a hare among foxes.
"But I'll admit, it feels a little better now that she's dead,"
Tobias could feel his anger bubbling, the love for his lost family burning furiously in his veins. He had had every mind to pull out his rifle and shoot Lewis right there and then when the man had arrived. It had been incredibly tempting, Lucifer whispering dark words into his eager ears.
But the thought of murder had left him as quickly as it had come to him. There was nothing to gain in killing Lewis, not yet, and Tobias would not be doing anyone a favour if he had conceded to committing it.
No matter what his mind told him though, his heart continued to pump poison into his blood and his words, consequently, became soaked with the dangerous substance.
"Did you feel good about it then, Lou? Killing Eva? Felt you were redeeming yourself?" he spat.
"Redeem myself? I've never needed to," laughed Lewis, shaking his head. Tobias could tell he was trying to keep his fury within, but Lewis had never been a man to exercise self-restraint.
"No, she and Dieter. They're the ones who needed to redeem themselves," he said, "She would have gone along with...it was Dieter who always stood in my way. As he did in yours,"
Tobias did not have the energy to retort, already thoroughly exhausted by Lewis' mere presence. But he nonetheless listened, eager to gain as much information as he could without force.
Absently shaking his head, Lewis strode over to the mantelpiece, his immense figure looming over the fireplace. Tobias watched as Lewis ran his finger over the little world globe set above him, trailing a path across Europe, to Africa down to Australia and right back up to England.
"Little Elsa's still alive, you know," he muttered quietly.
Tobias felt his heart sink. Any hope that Lewis had forgotten about Elsa, or simply concurred that she had somehow been killed in his attack, was lost with those simple words.
It seemed trouble followed that girl wherever she went, and Tobias was determined to keep those wolves at bay.
"I know. She phoned me a week ago," returned Tobias, desperate to keep his voice even.
Lewis spun round, his eyes flashing.
"Really, just phoned?" he sneered.
"Yes,"
Lewis advanced a few steps, so close now that they were almost touching.
"She didn't, drop into the country did she? Bunk with you for a bit?"
"I don't know what you're-"
"Don't lie to me, Tobias," Lewis snarled, cutting him off. His eyes flashed, the man looking more and more like the beast as each second passed.
"I'm not," said Tobias, keeping his eyes locked with him, "I never have,"
"I know we were close when we children, I always had your back and you had mine," said Lewis, "But let's be honest; blood's thicker than water,"
"I am not lying to you,"
Those words became Lewis' undoing. He took a few steps back, laughing manically as he shook his head. He looked unhinged, his hair falling out of its careful place. He stuck his hand into his coat pocket, and with lightening speed, whipped out a small handgun.
Tobias' heart skipped a beat, his sight beginning to close in on him. He watched nervously as Lewis waved the thing threateningly in his direction.
"Do you, do you understand how many people I've had to kill to find the truth?" he growled, the gun shaking, "Huh? Do you? Can you even begin to comprehend the body count-?"
The world was beginning to slip away, his grip on the tenuous tendrils of his life leaving him. It did not surprise Tobias that Lewis had killed, the words had no shocking effect on him. His violent tendencies were a part of Lewis' psychopathic nature that was perhaps the only thing that made sense about him.
But what had him on his toes, was that Lewis was the one with the gun and he, Tobias, was without.
"What have you done Lewis?" whispered Tobias.
"Nothing that concerns you," Lewis said, his teeth clenched, "Just tell me, where is Elsa?"
They were not the words Lewis wanted to hear, but Tobias had spent enough of his life conceding to this man.
"I don't know,"
Lewis let out a high pitched yell, holding the gun high up as he kicked over a stool. It fell to the ground with tremendous force, the back leg splintering.
"LIAR!"
The click! of the sliding door returned and Marie reappeared at its entrance. Her eyes were wide with panic, her hands gripping the frame so tightly her knuckles grew red. She switched her gaze from Lewis to Tobias, hastily addressing the situation.
"What is-oh my Lord!" shrieked Marie, noticing the loaded gun, "What are you-?"
She began to advance towards them.
"Stay back!" screeched Lewis, pointing the gun right at Marie, "If you love yourself and your unborn child, then stay back!"
She stopped, her foot in mid-step, her mouth hanging open. She looked to Tobias, her eyes on the verge of tears.
This wasn't happening, it couldn't be.
It wasn't fair.
It simply wasn't fair.
Tobias looked to his wife, sharing her pained expression, but nevertheless shook his head and motioned to her stay where she was.
"Lewis, please," urged Tobias, holding both hands up in surrender, "Let's just calm down, alright? Talk this through,"
Lewis seemed unaffected, already in his own little world no doubt. He did not hear Tobias' words and even if he had, there was no chance he would heed them.
The world was his and only he made the orders.
"Where is she, Tobias?" Lewis repeated, his tone a sinister sing-song, "I know she was here, I know you've housed her!"
"Stop it, Lewis," Marie sobbed, clutching her hand to her chest, "Stop it!"
"Where is she?!" screamed Lewis, now resting the tip of the barrel right against Tobias' forehead.
"Please!"
All Tobias saw was the flicker of Lewis' trigger clutching finger, followed swiftly by a bang that deafened his ears.
Tobias' head spun, his eyes unable to focus. Bile was rising in his throat, his knees knocking. He looked down on himself, desperately searching for the patch of blood where he was sure to have been hit.
He patted himself down over and over again, wondering why he was not catching that sticky feeling between his fingers.
There was nothing, nothing to say his skin had been broken, his shirt torn. Nothing to say any foreign body had entered him.
Then where on Earth-?
Tobias fell to his knees.
No.
No!
His heart began to pump furiously, his breath catching in his throat so much, he was finding it difficult to breathe. His body turned numb and his senses dulled. He was only dimly aware of the bestial wail that left his mouth.
Marie lay lifeless on the floor, her hands throw up around her golden head and her legs twisted from her fall. Her eyes were still open, her mouth slightly ajar. The small hole in her chest steadily seeped with her blood, the fluid slowly soaking her gown, slowly making its way down to the hand that was still rested upon her belly.
Lewis was still looming over Tobias, his gun trembling a little in his hands.
There was a buzz in Tobias' ear, a quiet hum beating furiously in his ears. It was if there was a box around him, a four walled entity that was starting to close in on him, and as it did, the buzz got all the more louder. There was nothing in this little world, nothing but himself and the physicality of his being.
Influence from the outside was only faintly perceived.
"Good work, Tobias," Tobias vaguely heard Lewis say, the words slipping in and out, "Now look what you've done. You've killed your wife-"
His mind had not registered these words, not truly enough to fully comprehend their weight, but somewhere deep in his heart, within the pounding veins and the puffed arteries, they resounded with dangerous reverberation.
They undid him.
Tears streaming down his face, and no longer aware of who or what he was, Tobias let out a painfully distraught and yet equally fearsome howl and charged for Lewis. All of his senses were forgotten, everything human in him cowering in fear of the beast that had taken control.
"You son of a bitch, I'll kill you!"
Tobias tackled Lewis to the ground, the latter taken by surprise. They fell together with an almighty thud, nothing less than expected for the two bear-like men. For a moment, Tobias had the upper hand. He pinned Lewis to the floor with his knees, the other man wriggling, writhing and spitting.
Tobias repeatedly slammed his fist into Lewis' nose, unaware that his own knuckles were beginning to bleed, and sickly enjoying the thud his skin made against Lewis'.
He slammed it again, this time hearing an almighty crack! as Lewis' nose split at the bridge. Blood flowed like the Thames, streaking in long runs and splitting off at the ends like branches.
The victory was only temporarily savoured, however, for in his ecstasy Tobias had left himself unguarded, and allowed Lewis to flip him around.
They rolled on the ground, desperate to attain a firm grip on the other. Cursed words escaped into the air like the wispy smoke of an infantile blaze, and a tangle of legs flew left, right and centre, the sound of thudding flesh against flesh vibrating off the walls.
Lewis finally flipped Tobias to the ground, slamming the man's back so hard into the ground that all the wind were knocked out from within him. Lewis could not be sure, through all Tobias's spitting and yelping, if he had cracked a bone or two. He had heard something, maybe a hairline fracture in the spinal cord, but nothing was certainly.
Lewis could not help but feel something akin to sympathy for this man, watching as Tobias screeched and bit, baring his teeth as if he were an animal. It was amazing, this transition from man to beast, how weak the man was for that woman.
He balled his fist and slammed Tobias in his jaw, shutting him up for a moment. He grabbed his collar, and lifted his neck from the floor.
"I'm giving you one last chance!" Lewis barked, his pointed nose brushing against Tobias', "Tell me!"
"Oh, fuck you, Lewis!" snarled Tobias, spitting a bloody glob into Lewis' eye.
"Tell me,"
He wiped it away, flicking the vile concoction into the blood stained carpet.
There was such a pain in Tobias' back, throbbing ruthlessly in the lower half. Every time he, or Lewis moved him, it would flare up in its severity and leave him breathless. It was as if his body had been set on fire, every muscle and every bone crying for mercy.
He looked into the eyes of his attack, the windows to the man he had once called a friend. There was nothing left in his eyes, nothing more than emptiness and stone.
His life flashed before his eyes, a reel of every memory that had embedded itself in his mind. A memory of running barefoot through the moors of Banbury, the smell of the summer breeze and the feel of the cool breeze against his sun-kissed skin. He wanted to go back to that, back to that place in time when nothing was out of balance and when Fate had exercised compassion and clemency upon the lives She overlooked.
"What happened to you?" moaned Tobias, his eyes searching Lewis for that humanity he had once known, "What the bloody hell has happened to you?"
"Nothing new, I'm afraid," whispered Lewis, smirking a little. There was something sad in those words, something inexplicably dreadful.
No, it was not something new. These impulses, these rage fuelled desires were not something any one of them was not accustomed to. But it made Tobias when it was exactly that these tendencies turned from something to laugh at, to something to weep over.
Lewis let go of Tobias' collar, letting the latter fall unceremoniously to the ground. Tobias' eyes were rolling in his end, unable to focus as dark patches began to form in the corners of his eyes. He only barely heard Lewis shuffle away, heard his footsteps patter up the stairs.
He turned his head a little, even that had him screaming in agony. He looked to his dear wife, still slumped on the ground.
He wailed, wailed like he had never before. Not like when his mother had died in Germany, or his father shortly after that. Not when his first child had entered the world stillborn, and not when he had been given the news of his brother's fate in England.
His unborn child, no doubt dying himself, within his dead mother's womb.
This was for all of that; all that he had lost and all that he was losing.
He felt so empty, such a husk of man he once was. His beauty had disappeared, his strength having left him. All those degrees, those Masters and Doctorates; none could save him now.
There was nothing to live for anymore.
"You always were a monster, Lou!" yelled Tobias, rolling onto his side, coughing up blood as he did, "From the moment I met you I knew, I swear I did. There was always something wrong with you, something not right!"
He continued, feeling smaller and smaller by the minute. Perhaps Lewis could not hear him, perhaps he would be ignored. But that did not matter anymore.
"I remember when we were kids, when we killed Jones' dog by accident. Don't think I can't remember what you did to it,"
He closed his eyes, feeling all his wounds more acutely than before. There was perhaps, no unbroken bone left in his body. But it was his heart, this pain he felt in his chest, that he desperately wished to be relieved from.
He heard the sound of approaching footsteps and weakly opened his eyes. He could just make out Lewis' immense figure, the blood dripping from his forehead marring his vision.
The monster seemed alight with maniacal joy, a wicked grin worthy of only the devil himself spread across his face. His hair was severely mused, blood still pouring from his broken nose. His clothes were torn and bloodied, already black from his drying wounds.
But it was the thin sheet of paper, wedged between Lewis' reddened fingers, that caught Tobias' attention.
It was with painful identification that he realised.
"Wh-what's that?"
Tobias knew exactly what it was, cursing himself over and over for having left that in the open.
It was the address of Professor Xavier's Mansion, giving to him by the good man himself in the case of an emergency.
How could he have been so stupid?
"What you've failed to give me all this time," said Lewis simply, the light gleaming in his eyes. He pulled out his gun and reloaded it, tracing his fingers tenderly over the barrel as he pointed it at Tobias's forehead.
"What killed your pretty wife, and what killed you,"
Tobias closed his eyes, resting his head against the floor. He knew what was to come, he knew what his life had come to. And his allowed the open arms of oblivion to embrace him, his last prayers went only to his Elsa.
Elsa ran full pelt down the length of the field, feeling the cool breeze tangle itself in her hair and the harsh sun burning her skin. She flicked round as she watched Sean traverse down the field, dribbling the ball between his feet and all the while, avoiding Raven's offending intrusions.
It was the last few minutes of their game, a rather uneven game in all honesty. Charles had politely declined to join, Erik taking a more gruff approach-'do I look like a mug?'-and so, the match had consisted of only five players in total.
Both Hank and Alex had been assigned goalies, the former in Elsa's team.
Sean had been rather generous and allowed Elsa to have two players rather than one, whilst he took up the sole responsibility for scoring any goals for his two-man squad.
"Oh, come on, you call that skill?" Elsa heard Raven call.
"Better than whatever the hell it is you're doing!" returned Sean, all the while keeping his eyes on the ball.
Elsa waited her turn, waiting for that precise moment in which Sean would become vulnerable and the ball open to her taking. She tensed herself, feeling her calves tensing like the coil in a spring, before running right at her opponent.
With one swift move, she snatched the ball from Sean's unwary feet and dribbled it back down.
"Hey!"
Raven gave a great whoop, a short lived jump in the air, before running side by side with her friend as the two passed the ball between themselves.
All that was left now were Alex, standing ominously at the goals. He hunkered down a little, his arms spread wide as he anticipated Elsa's incoming shot.
She eyed him playfully, resting her foot firmly on the ball.
"You let that ball pass Alex, and you'll find yourself with a severed manhood!" Sean cried from afar.
"Don't think that because you're my girlfriend, that I'm going be soft," grinned Alex, shaking his head.
"Wasn't expecting you to be," shrugged Elsa, as she began to back away. She could remember when she was young, when she used to play football in the schoolyard with the other children. It was such a long time ago, and the more she dwelled on it, the more she couldn't believe how much had changed since then.
She was a few metres back now, and only paused for a beat before charging for the ball. Her foot connected with the ball in a clean swing of her leg and without even a moment for Alex to truly come to his senses, the black and white sack of air flew into the net.
"Yes!"
Hank came running down the field, a rather odd notion for the bespectacled boy, as he embraced Elsa and Raven with both of his arms. He lifted them up into the air, not too high up, but nonetheless Elsa was surprised at his hidden strength.
"What did I tell you?"
Sean grabbed the ball grumpily, landing a smart smack against Alex's back before pointing a finger at the offending team.
"Rematch!"
The group laughed heartily, the young man muttering vociferously as he proceeded to jab the ball with a sharp stick he had found.
"Elsa!" They all suddenly heard.
The mutants turned around in their spot, their laughter quelled by the effeminate voice.
From what they could see, Moira MacTaggert was standing afar upon the raised ledge of the front lawn, one arm resting on the marble barrier as the other waved in the air.
"Elsa!" she called again.
Elsa gave her winning team a final grin, Alex and Sean each a pathetic pat on the back, before proceeding up the hill.
She had not spoken to Moira often, for the older woman conferred with Charles more than the others. Her initial inhibitions about the agent had since been rendered obsolete; in fact, she now quite liked Moira.
But Moira had taken Elsa alone, to speak with in private as this so suggested. It made Elsa wonder, and at the same time, began to fill her with uneasy dread.
"Moira," she said, as she reached the top, "How are you? I haven't seen you in a while,"
Moira was dressed in her normal gear, her rather masculine jacket and skirt. It amused Elsa, the striking contrast. Such a pretty face set against a rather boring and mannish get up that more often than took away from her beauty.
But it was clear that she was not here to speak of about fashion, or the lack of it. Moira was shifting uneasily on her feet, her eyes darting back and forth.
"No," she smiled, though it seemed a little strained, "I'm fine, yourself?"
"Good," returned Elsa.
"What do you suppose they're talking about?" asked Raven, nudging Hank.
They watched Elsa and Moira's figures in the distance, the glare from the sun at times making it a little difficult to see. From what Raven could tell, Moira appeared rather uneasy.
"Too bad none of us mutated supersonic hearing or something," said Alex, pushing his way to the front. It was unusual, for Moira to pluck one of them unexpectedly and speak with them in private. In fact, it hardly happened at all.
They watched, all with worried expressions, as Elsa's head began to shake. She held out her hands in front of her, swinging them in an 'X' motion as they heard her faint cries.
"No!" they managed to catch, "No!"
Elsa buckled at her knees, almost falling right onto her face if Moira had not caught her. The girl disentangled herself from Moira's arms, the latter looking rather distressed as the former.
They stared with confusion as Elsa began to run back into the Mansion, tripping over feet repeatedly as Moira desperately called after her.
"What was all that about?" asked Sean urgently, looking to his comrades as if they could provide an answer.
Alex felt horrid, a weight in his stomach so heavy and so consuming, he wondered if he would be able to move at all.
Something was wrong, so dreadfully wrong.
It struck him, with sick amusement, how quickly their playful game had turned so sour. How quickly the air had changed.
"I'll be back,"
He began to walk towards the Mansion, still figuring what exactly it was he was going to do once he got to her. He slowly moved to a jog before finally breaking into a run. He moved past Moira, the agent seemingly stuck in her spot with a pained expression on her face.
'Please,' he thought frantically, 'Please let it be ok,
AN: Ok, Ja. Very long chapter I know, and believe me I was going to separate it into two parts. But it simply did not flow the way I wanted it to when I tried breaking it in half, so many apologies. Mind you, the last section was a little hasty so if there are words missing or things don't make sense grammatically, or it just doesn't do, please forgive me; I'll fix it later (where have I heard that before?)
Also, what is going on in the 'Tobias/Lewis' sections, are taking place the night before the 'Elsa' sections. Does that make sense?
Another thing, I know nothing about American football and who scores the goal and what not; I only put quarterback down because it's the only term I know. So if you do know the correct term, please correct me!
Come on, my readers, there must be something pissing you off about this story? Something that makes you go, "WHY?!" Or is it all just as hunky-dory as I have been told by lovelies LizziePixie-Aiko and SkysFireLady15? (many thanks as usual)