Okaaay, I know this has been a LONG time coming. I really do. This chapter has been sitting around in a notebook for ages, I just never found the time to sit down and type it out. Heh. Sorry. What pushed me to put this up was a review by Valoofle. Thank you so much. Hope you all enjoy this chapter, and I guaruntee there is more to come. I'm just not sure when...God I'm such a flaky author. Sorry again.
"…And that is why we will always remember Fred Dukes. Not only was he a constant companion and a loyal teammate, but his death serves us as a reminder that life is brief and it should be lived to it's full extent. May his soul rest in peace."
Pietro had kept his head low during Professor X's entire speech, but now he decided to risk looking up. True to his word, Xavier had set up a spot for the memorial at the edge of the forest where you could look out over the cliffs. There was a small headstone, yet to be marked, that was surrounded by a bed of white lilies, and Xavier sat to the side of this display looking extremely sober. Pietro didn't dare to glance over at Toad, and his gaze on the lilies grew more intense. The elegant flowers were a symbol of death, everyone knew this, but with the weight of the comlink in his pocket, Pietro was seeing them with a new light. He had found reason to put off meeting with his father so far, but he knew if he didn't go by tonight there very well could be another headstone to keep Fred's company. This one bearing the name Pietro Maximoff. Pietro shook this comforting image out of his head and vowed to slip away at the next chance he had.
Wanda let out a small sigh from her next to Pietro and he studied her out of the corner of his eye, unsure if she was sad about Fred, or just pissed that she was wearing heels. Pietro and Lance had snorted with laughter when Wanda had first emerged from her room clad in a black dress and high heels, but after one piercing glare from the Scarlet Witch and the discovery that they were to wear suits and ties they had fallen silent.
"Does anyone have any last words for Mr. Dukes?" Xavier asked.
Apparently his eulogy was over, and Pietro looked to his fellow Brotherhood members to see if any would speak out.
"I do," Toad croaked, stepping forward.
Everything fell absolutely silent. All eyes were on Toad, and Pietro was sorry to see that his fears about Toad's health had been correct. This event seemed to be taking a drastic toll on Toad's physical and mental state, and judging by the tone of his voice, he seemed to be even more unstable than before.
Xavier nodded, and bowed his head in respect as he waited fro Toad to speak.
"I have something to say," Toad started again shakily. His large yellow eyes remained on Fred's headstone and his whole disheveled body seemed to be trembling.
"I…I just wanna say that I never wanted this to happen. Any of this. Y'all gotta believe me," he pleaded, wrenching his eyes from the memorial and turning to face Wanda, Lance, and Pietro.
"You don't know, but Fred was the only one I could talk to. You guys are always busy with your own business, so him and me stuck together and now…now I don't have no one!" Toad's voice rose, and he was starting to get hysterical.
Pietro swallowed anxiously. He knew what was coming next. Even though he had tried to explain it to Toad in private, Pietro knew that his "friend" wasn't going to pass up the chance to exploit him in front of a group.
"You three always acted like you were better than us! You didn't even stick around!"
There it was. Toad was pointing a finger at Pietro, and although this had been expected, that didn't stop him from being forced to feel like a piece of shit. He didn't even feel like defending himself at the moment, so he let Toad keep going. Lance and Wanda didn't try to stop this attack either; it seemed like it was a mutual belief that Toad needed to get this out of his system.
"And here we are, pretending to be friends, and you're just pretending to care about me. I'm fucking sick of pretending!" he yelled.
Pietro winced at the intensity of Toad's speech, but did little else to show whether or not the words were affecting him.
"I'm sick of all this shit," Toad went on, but his voice was starting to crack. It looked to Pietro as if Toad was losing the internal struggle not to cry. He was taking drastic breaths through his teeth, "We've been fooling ourselves all this time cuz no one cares about us, but no one wants to admit it. We're the fuck-ups, the lost cause that no one wants to believe in. Can't you see it? Born losers, that's what we are….and I'm sick of this shit!"
Though his words were hard to follow Toad's "audience" got the general meaning. Angry tears spilled down Toad's face and he turned away from them to look at the blank headstone, and fell to his knees. Pietro's brow furrowed as he stared on with everyone else. He was positive that if anyone less jaded had been present they would have been brought to tears or tried to comfort the broken teen or even given a sign that they cared about him at all. But no, they could only stare at him like he was some sideshow carnival freak, remaining where they stood, emotionless and cold.
"I think it's best if you three go inside," Xavier said gently, wheeling over to Toad and patting him on the back.
Pietro had completely forgotten that Xavier was even present, and he swallowed hard as if there was something caught in his throat. Knowing that an outsider, someone who could only try to begin to understand what they had been through, had been sitting quietly, just observing the whole breakdown made the situation ten times more uncomfortable. Pietro would have rebelled against the Professor's order, but his need to escape greatly outweighed his need to tell Xavier that he had no right to tell them what to do.
He sharply turned on his heel, and marched back to the mansion without slowing down for Wanda and Lance. Entering through the back entrance, Pietro slammed the door shut behind him, and began searching the kitchen for a clock. He needed the time, and he needed it now. Bobby walked over to the fridge with a frown, keeping his eyes on the silver haired teen as he opened it and pulled out a carton of orange juice.
"Something I can do for you?"
Pietro whirled around, his wide eyes pasting themselves to the boy, "Time. Do you have the time?"
Bobby glanced down at his watch, "Sure, it's 5:37. Why…?"
But Pietro was already gone. He was jogging up the staircase to his room, trying to keep his mind off what he was about to do. He had put this off for too long already. Changing into a black hoodie and jeans at the fastest speed his body would permit, Pietro hurriedly moved on to fishing the comlink out of his suit, and shoved it into his back pocket. He did a once-over of the room to see if anything stood out. Nothing did, and he drew in a deep breath as he came to the realization that it was probably best to go defenseless. He lacked the time and the desire to dwell on this further, and Pietro exited the room at such a speed that he collided with someone passing through the hall on the other side of the door.
"Sorry," he muttered hastily. If he was going to leave before Lance or Wanda got to him, then he didn't have a second to spare.
"Pietro…where are you going?" Kitty asked, the agitated look slipping off her face, as she watched him descend the stairs so quickly, you would have thought he was trying to outrun the plague.
"Out," he yelled over his shoulder, practically bowling through the front doors in his haste.
The sun was just beginning to set, leaving the sky a marvelous blood-red hue, and Pietro gulped in mouthfuls of frigid air as he jogged up to the front gates. He was well-aware that Wanda would be more than pissed when she realized he was gone, but her wrath paled in comparison to that of their father's. The way Pietro figured, it was better to leave at a time when everyone was more concerned about Toad than his whereabouts.
Pressing onward through the ongoing sidewalks of the city, Pietro took sharp turns when he deemed them necessary as he tried to remember the way to the docks. He didn't use his powers at all, in case the Professor felt to locate him, however unlikely this was, and he kept his pace steady the entire journey.
By the time he reached the Acolyte base, the sun had set, and he could only go by the weak light of the street lamps for direction. All the boxes were stacked neatly in a pile next to the rusty, albeit reinforced door. This sight alone sent a current of fear down Pietro's spine. He was expected.
