Part Six
Legals: Same
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He ran his hand threw his hair for a moment, head pounding. His pocket was full of money. His jacket pocket held more drugs. It was getting late...Almost ten. Some girls came out of the center, not paying much attention to him, chattering on about some sick little joke of theirs. His eyes burned again with tears.
Pietro rubbed them away roughly with the sleeve of his shirt, nose wrinkling a little when he smelled it. It smelled like alocohol, and the alley. It smelled as disgusting as he felt...and it was dirty besides. Why didn't the other guys tell him his clothes were nasty? He snorted a little, trying to imagine Todd and Fred as fashion police.
"You want to come inside?" One of the counsellors was behind him, voice gentle. "It's getting cold."
He shook his head, resting his head against the stone building, "I'm fine...My friends will be here soon."
"Sure..." There was a beat before the man went back inside. Pietro sighed, closing his eyes. This place was supposed to be helpful. And they were. Anytime he wanted to be alone in his thoughts and self-pity, they were in his face. When he needed someone there, if he didn't wsee some one he was going to poke three needles into his veins when he only needed two, where were they?
Gone. Just like Lance. Just like Todd. Just like Fred. Just like his own fucking father.
"Ah, the beauty of growing up." A light drizzle began to fall. He laughed a little, closing his eyes. It didn't matter anymore. He heard the crackle of thunder, the rain picking up. Still didn't matter. Sleep overtook him quickly.
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"So...when we find Pietro, what are we going to say to him?" Fred asked for the upteenth time. Lance ground his teeth together. Some how the combined front tactic didn't seem like the smartest idea anymore, though it would definetly be interested to watch Pietro attempt to weasel his way out of the questions with Freddy looming over him.
He glared at the road in front of them. Of all the people in the world to be on drugs, it had to be Pietro. It couldn't have been him or Todd or even one of the X-freaks. They would have made sense. They weren't the ones that looked at the meals that most of the Brotherhood shovelled into their mouths and made a disgusting comment about the preservatives, where they came from, as they sat on the counter, content with the apple and the salad. They weren't the ones who turned their noses up at the idea of smoking or drinking.
The warning signs had been there. They had been there all along. Lance had just been too stupid, too assure that Pietro wouldn't do something that stupid. Increased speed meant increased metabolism which meant Pietro needed to eat as much as Fred did, of course more spread out over one day and of things heathlier in nature. He took crackers and fruit to school with him every day. The fruit that they usually had to replace ever three days was still sitting in the basket like it had for the last three weeks. The crackers were attracting ants.
Maximoff had been sleeping more and more. When Lance asked him why he was out late, his answers were vague, distracted. He wore longer sleeves than usual, always tugging them down over his lower arm. When he ate, he threw up. He'd been slow...almost human. And Lance had been too wrapped in his own little warped problems to see that anything was truly wrong.
He frowned, stopping in front of the Jewish Community Center, running a hand through his hair slowly, "You two wait here...I'm going to go see if Pietro's here or not."
The other boys nodded as he stepped out into the rain. Only a few lights were on in the building, a few silhoutte's moving through the windows. He sighed, racing up the stairs and trying to open the front door. Locked. He knocked as loudly as he could four times before a forty something woman opened the door, her face beginning to line with age. A wisp of grey hair fell into her face as she watched him, waiting.
"I'm looking for Pietro Maximoff...Is he here?"
She narrowed her eyes a little, shaking her head, "I don't know who you're talking about."
"Pietro Maximoff. White hair, blue eyes. Really skinny. He said he worked here..." Something was beginning to click on in the back of his mind. Another lie. That explained why he was never done at a certain time, never left a phone number. Always called from a payphone.
The woman shook her head, "I am in charge of this facility, and I assure you that there has never been a Pietro Maximoff on our payroll. If I see a young man that fits that discription, I'll let you know." The door slammed in his face. Sure she'd let him know...Real quick and easy when she didn't know who he was or his phone number or anything. He rolled his eyes, going back to Todd and Fred.
"He not there?"
Lance shook his head, "Get out of the car. I need you two to help me look for him."
Fred blinked, "I'm not--"
"Yes, you are." He glared at the larger mutant, eyes very narrow. "We have to find Pietro. He's probably...Hopefully some where in the area. Todd, you head that way. I'll go down here...And Fred...You check the alleys and stuff around here. We'll meet back in a half an hour."
"What if we don't find him?" Todd asked, running a hand through his dusky blond hair. The rain was already beginning to take it's affect. The webbing between his fingers was slowly growing more pronounced and the mop of hair was growing darker.
"Then we...I don't know." Lance frowned, "We'll do something. Just go, all right?"
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"Where are you going, Pietro?" The little girl smiled, holding out her hand, "I've been waiting for you."
He shivered a little, trying to escape the warmth inside of him, the ever present and growing fire just beneath his skin. The little girl was painted to his eyelids, her smiling face, lips unmoving as she talked to him. "It's lonely here....I miss you. Come back."
Eyes tried to open as the smile changed, the girl beginning to scream, skin melting from bone. Fire consumed her, and began to take him with it, lapping at his face with glowing tongue's. You must come now, Pietro. No time to waste.
He stepped closer, feeling nothing as the tendrils wrapped around his body, pulling him closer to the heart of the blaze.
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Thirty minutes on the dot, he was back, looking at the very wet and very empty handed Freddy. The entire search has been a waste. But what where they going to do now? Call the police? Um, yes, officer, my friend's missing. We think he's out there on drugs...Speak to my gaurdian....Oh, that's the funny part. We don't have one. She took off for the great beyond in a metallic, oversized golf-ball. He sighed, pushing his bangs, thick with water, back onto his head.
In the lamplight, Todd was almost visible as he hopped down the street. Nothing. Nothing...He was gone. Horror stories of what could happen to a boy on the street floated back to him from the foster home, back when he'd been a place that cared, showered him with affection and the occasional scare-the-piss-out-of-you-for-your-own-good story. He shuddered absently, pulling his watch from his pocket. Almost ten...Pietro had said....
That's when he saw the look on Fred's face. The sickened flash in his eyes as he stepped back a little. He turned. Todd was half-carrying, half dragging Pietro with him. He took in a shuddering breath, doing his best not to be alarmed. It wasn't that big of a deal. Pietro was thin. He always had been. Todd wasn't the strongest guy in the world, not with his arms, but he should be able to lift him. Right? Right...but a scene from months past betrayed his logic.
"Move your ass, 'yo. I'm trying to see the TV." Todd kicked Pietro lightly in the shoulder.
The white-haired boy glared, "Make me." Todd frowned, kicking a little harder.
"Move."
"No."
"Move."
"NO."
Each time, Todd tried to kick him. Each time, the other boy dodged effortlessly. Finally the youngest member of the Brotherhood stood, grabbing both of the pale arms, and pulled. Pietro didn't move an inch, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He pulled again. Nothing.
A bark of laughter passed Pietro's lips as he stood up, "If it means that much to you." And he promptly stole Todd's spot on the couch, bringing on another argument.
Then it had been a funny sort of annoying...now it was scary. That much weight had been lost between then and now. Gingerly, he took the boy off of Todd, morbidly put at ease a little by the way his friend was gasping for air. Still, he was too light, too limp. Nothing more than a rag doll in his arms. His cheeks were horribly pale, and he was shivering in his sleep.
Lance swallowed a little, giving Pietro over to Fred as he steadied himself, looking at Todd. "Where did you find him?"
"On the steps at the Gay and Lesbian Center, couple of blocks that way." He looked at his friend, questions in his eyes before the truth settled down. That was where he was at night....That's why he never called from inside the center. That's why there was no address, no phone number, just a call to say "pick me up".
He nodded a few times, trying again to sort this out, "Put him in the car, Freddie. Todd, you okay?"
The younger boy steadied himself another moment, his face a sickened chalk white as they began to go back to the jeep, "Some guy told me where to find him."
"He did?"
"Yeah...." Todd rubbed his arms a little, shivering himself. "You know the money he brought home last night, all the money he brought home."
He stopped, staring at his friend. The look on Todd's face was enough to tell him what the man had said. He'd been around drug addicts before. When the money ran out, they turned to the streets. Some picked pockets; some broke windows. Some sold the drugs they used for increased prices.
And some.... Pietro's haunted face the night before when he tried to laugh off Lance's worries. The dead look in his eyes, soulless. How could he do that?
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and he felt Todd's hand on his arm, breaking him away from his train of thought, "Let's go, man, before this gets any worse."
He snorted a little, "Now how exactly could it do that?"
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His eyes opened slowly, everything hazy. He was on a couch. The rain was gone...He was swathed in blankets, most of his clothes gone. He forced himself to stay still, listening. He could hear Fred's slightly heavy breathing from across the room. So he was home...
He raised his head a little, seeing Lance staring at him, eyes narrowed, "Good morning."
Shit.
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Agh. I don't particularly like this part. *sigh* Oh well. Yins all be the judge. R/R PLEASE!!