There's a reason that I didn't update for, like, over a year. There really is, I swear! You see, my story and I had a. . . disagreement of sorts. I wanted to continue on, while It (yes, my story is an It) refused to tell me what direction it was going. We fought. It pouted. Finally, It swallowed It's pride and apologized. While our relationship remains rocky, It has started to cooperate once again and we are going to try to get on track after this long hiatus.
Thanks to Steff, you great person you, for e-mailing me and alerting me to the fact that people actually were still wondering what the heck was going on with this story. I'm truly sorry I left the story hanging for so long. I'll try to do better. And thank you, everyone, who wrote such wonderful reviews. I've never gotten such praise before. You're making me blush! Thank you! You guys are the reason I'm once again trying to tackle this monstrosity. *Yes, It, I'm calling you a monstrosity. Deal with it!*
Disclaimer
Ok, here it goes. All of these characters belong to Marvel Comics, and by this time also some movie and/or TV corporations. Any of the several characters, like Izzy, Allison, and Andrew, are figments of my imagination put in writing. I am borrowing the Marvel characters simply to write a bit of entertaining dribble and am making no money with these tapped out little dramas. Of course, if Marvel would like to hire me and pay me, I wouldn't say no. Right now, I'm toting around a college degree while I work 3rd shift at Steak N' Shake.
I'm waiting for a job offer, Marvel.
And now, (after eons) on with the show!
Empathy
Chapter 4
As her dorm room came into view, Izzy almost whooped with delight. The amount of concentration it was taking her to transport herself, Skin, and Iceman prevented it, however. A small smile did escape, however. But she knew this sense of euphoria wouldn't last long, not with the amount energy she was expending. Sweat ran into her eyes and trickled down her back, even though she didn't feel warm at all. In fact, she didn't feel much of anything. She knew Angelo was beside her. She could feel both his reassuring presence and his hand tightly clasping her own. Their other passenger was at their feet; she'd had to stand at the last second to make sure she included them all in her transport. She wished she knew how he was holding up. She'd never transported an unconscious person before, and hoped it didn't hurt him anymore than he was already. But she hadn't had a choice at the time; they'd needed a quick exit. They'd all just have to live with the consequences.
Somehow, she got the impression she wouldn't be in any condition to do much of anything once they fully entered the room. Maybe it was the way she could physically feel heat leaving her body as her globe became more visible in the room. Or it could be the way her whole body had began to shiver after she'd started her transport. Not for the first time, she wished she'd brought a jacket along for this little jaunt. Her short sleeved T-shirt really wasn't cutting it in the warmth department at the moment. "Just think warm thoughts and let's get this over and done with, Izzy!" she mentally chided herself.
Izzy felt her senses falter and knew she didn't have much time left. While she could see her room dimly through the globe surrounding them, they were still, quite literally, between here and there. Deep inside, she knew they couldn't be caught between places when her strength ran out. At best, they'd have a bumpy landing, at worst. . . well, she didn't want to think about it. She screwed her eyes shut, extending her senses to encompass every aspect of the room. Forcing herself to tighten her focuse a little further, Izzy nudged Iceman's motionless body toward the bed. Dark spots swam in front of her eyes and her entire body shook from the strain. The more opaque her globe became, the colder Izzy got, and the less she felt from those around her. She had to finish this now. With a quick prayer to whoever might be listening, she tightened her hold on her passengers and did the only thing left.
She pulled, hard.
* * * * *
The first thing Angelo noticed when he became aware of his surroundings again was the fact that he was no longer standing. The second was that he no longer held Izzy's hand. He felt disappointed by its absence. She must have let go of it some time during the transport.
His mind kicked into higher gear at the thought. Speaking of transport, where the hell were they anyway? Izzy hadn't been very forthcoming about their destination, not that they'd had any time to discuss it beforehand. Oh, well. Guess there's only one way to find out.
With a groan, Angelo opened his eyes and chanced a look around. They were in someone's bedroom, either Izzy's or someone she knew he guessed. Iceman's unconscious body lay on the small bed a few feet away. He appeared no worse for wear than before.
"Hey, Izzy," he called hoarsely. He cleared his throat, feeling drained. "Where are we?" Angelo craned his neck, trying to get a better perspective from where he lay in front of the couch. "Izzy? Chica?"
No answer.
"This isn't the time to play hide and seek." Angelo forced down the panic rising in his gut. He painfully pulled himself to his feet, his concern growing as he realized just how much all this hopping around the city had taken out of him. And he wasn't even the one doing the transporting.
Angelo shook away the thought and walked around the couch, determined to find his friend. "I swear, Izzy, if this is some kind of . . ."
What he saw stopped him in his tracks.
"Dios mio!"
He'd just found Izzy.
* * * * *
Cold. Everywhere, cold. Too cold to move, too cold to even shiver. It penetrated her skin, her organs, her bones, her very soul. It defined her existence. Nothing else demanded her attention, not family or friends, light or dark, past or future. Only two things registered in her thought process, the now, and it's all encompassing chill. Everything around her was dark and silent, frozen like her, waiting. All the heat was gone like the Ice Ages had never really ended and the feeling of warmth against her skin only existed as a far away dream from which she'd been rudely awakened. Only the cold reminded her that she was real. She was empty, hollow, numb.
This feeling lasted for nearly twenty seconds. Then the pain came.
It started as a dull ache at the back of her skull, as her senses told her she was lying on a tiled floor. Then, her fingers began to twitch, and a heaviness settled on her chest. The muscles in her legs began to spasm and her back arched, sending brittle shards of pain up her spine. It felt like her body was breaking itself in half. Her chin dropped as she prepared to scream out in pain.
Nothing happened.
Her chest clenched, the heaviness pressing down even harder. Her lungs refused to draw in air. The pain seeped into her body, seized her lungs, and held them in its deadly grip. Izzy's eyes snapped open in horror. Her field of vision was fuzzy, save for the spots dancing before her eyes.
She desperately tried to get her unresponsive lungs to work, to pull in the oxygen she so desperately needed. But she was so cold, her body merely a frozen chunk of flesh. Pain lanced through every nerve synapse. Her back arched and she gasped, trying futilely to fill her lungs. Her arms and legs moved sporadically, fighting to regain control.
Darkness began to encroach her vision, and Izzy felt a bolt of pure terror pass through her. She was suffocating, her brain realized in a moment of clarity, starved for oxygen in a room full of the lifegiving substance. Her mind desperately called out for help, and her mouth desperately tried to form words she didn't have the breath to utter. Even as the light faded from view, she struggled. She would not die, lying in the floor of her own bedroom. Icy tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision even further as she continued to fight for her life. What was her uncle going to think if she died? Or her new friends? Another tremor wracked her frame, and her jaw clenched as the tears in her eyes finally overflowed and rolled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes. Was this what it was like to die? Was this Hell?
Suddenly, a new sensation entered her muddled brain. Soft hands forced her chin back and warm lips pressed against her own. Warmth flooded her airway and forced itself into her lungs. The cold receded a bit. Tiny cracks formed in ice. Her lungs clenched, but didn't expanded.
Another breath was forced in. Izzy thought she heard muttered swear words as the air pushed its way down her trachea and into her frozen lungs. But she was floating, detached from whatever was now happening to her body. Still, the cold was starting to disappear.
A third breath entered her mouth, given from now shaking lips. "Dammit, Izzy!" a voice cried, hitching as he said her name.
Oh, god! Angelo!
Even as the air entered and warmed her lungs, she was slammed brutally back into reality. With a strangled gasp, Izzy took the most painful breath of her life, quickly followed by another as her lungs greedily sucked in the air they'd been denied. Izzy distantly heard Angelo's cry of relief as her body tried to rid itself of all the excess carbon dioxide, and inhale more oxygen through a coughing fit.
"Angelo?" she asked weakly, as soon as she had enough breath to speak. Her vision began to clear, and she saw Skin looking down at her, concern clearly etched on his face.
He smiled at her happily when he noticed she was actually looking at him and not through him. "Don't you ever scare me like that again," he ordered her seriously before disappearing from her limited line of sight.
Warm arms wrapped around her and she pulled tightly against someone's chest. Soft cotton brushed against the side of her neck and face as Angelo cocooned himself around Izzy's still freezing body.
"Wha?"
"Ssshh, chica. We gotta get you warm."
Everything went fuzzy after that. Izzy's brain dimmed while her body soaked up the heat that had been denied it for so long. After the cold, Angelo's body pressed against hers was like food to a starving man. She stayed in the half-conscious state until she became aware of the fact that she was shivering violently. And she wasn't the only one.
"A-Angelo, let g-go. Y, you're g-get-ting c-cold too!"
"S'ok," he answered simply.
"No it's not!" Izzy's exclamation was stopped by another coughing fit.
"You w-w-were f-freezin' t' death r-right in front o-of me!" Angelo argued. "I'm b-buyin' us t-time"
"F-f-for w-what?" Izzy asked.
"For the c-calvary."
* * * * *
Most nights, the attending ER physician acted as the guiding light for the other doctors, nurses, and hospital staff, especially when important political figures suddenly entered their doors sporting serious head wounds of mysterious origin. Most of the time, anyone compassionate enough to pick up an injured man and get him medical attention, any good Samaritan like Andrew McGavin, would be plastered all over the news as a "Home Town Hero" for rescuing the illustrious Henry Peter Gyrich, one of the top players in the arena of mutant control. Special interest segments would be published in the paper, applauding his efforts. They might even print a picture of him with Gyrich, or playing with his kids.
In most instances, these events would occur. However, tonight, Gyrich's knight in shining armor didn't stay for the fanfare. In fact, he walked out of the hospital as soon as his burden was taken into the ER. Andrew McGavin got into his '85 Tempo with only two things in mind: telling his kids the best bedtime story ever, and hoping that those mutants insured that Allison Stills got what was coming to her. Everything else could wait until after the prince and princess defeated the dragon and saved the village.
It was a good thing Andrew left the scene so quickly. Within ten minutes, Operation: Wideawake had arrived, closed off an entire unit of the hospital, taken Gyrich to a chopper on the roof, and threatened the entire ER staff with twenty years in federal prison (if they were lucky) if any news of Gyrich's injury, arrival, or departure ever reached the media's ears through one of them.
Five minutes later, every trace of Gyrich's presence was gone and all the attending physician could do was hope the extra weight in his pants was not what he suspected it was, or at the very least that no one thought any less of him because of it.
From the looks on everyone else's faces, he assumed his dignity was still intact.
* * * * *
Angelo was only half conscious when he heard footsteps outside Izzy's door. The two of them still lay behind the small couch, his body cocooned around her smaller one. Both of them were shivering violently now, but at least Izzy's lips had lost most of the blue cast and her breathing had evened out.
The sound outside the door grew louder, and Angelo did his best to hide them further behind the couch. Izzy had passed out some time ago, all the transporting, along with the near death experience had finally caught up with her, he supposed. Honestly, he wasn't in much better shape. His was cold, his body ached, and he just wanted to curl up in the wooly blanket Jubilee had thoughtfully given him for Christmas and tell the world to go away for a while.
But right now, he was worried about whoever was behind that door. If the calvary had finally arrived, then his wooly blanket dreams could soon become a reality. But if those armored rejects had tracked them down. . . . well, he didn't think he could fight them off. Hell, at the moment, he wasn't sure he could stand.
Angelo gritted his teeth. Come on, hombre! You're a superhero, for God's sake. Get up!
He unfolded himself from around Izzy and lurched to his feet. His vision went gray and his knees buckled as the door was kicked open. Angelo caught the back of the couch in a white knuckle grip, fighting to keep upright as he waited for the world to come back in focus. If his legs decided to work, he might have a chance of keeping the attackers away from Izzy and himself. He hoped the good guys had just arrived, because if the bad guys had found them, they were so screwed.
"Skin?" he heard someone ask through the haze that refused to leave his brain.
Finally something started to come back into focus. A man in a long trench coat and a woman with fiery red hair stepped into the room. He sighed in relief as he felt all the remaining energy bleed from him in a rush of used adrenaline.
"Thank God," he muttered before falling back to the ground
* * * * *
TBC. . .
What, you think the calvary's there and everything's all right? Iceman's still in a bad way, not to mention Izzy, Skin and HPG. Emma and the gang still have to rendezvous, and don't forget about Ms. Stills. She certainly hasn't forgotten about Iceman, or the others. But what's Operation: Wideawake's position on all of this? Are they shocked and appalled, or has Henry Peter Gyrich really and truly been left in the dark?
You'll find out all of this and more, next chapter. Until then, I bid you adieu.
**I know this isn't a lot, but I just wanted to show you that, yes, I am planning on continuing this, especially now that I've got the juices flowing once again. I've just really got to get some sleep right now! (I work 10pm-6am) Send feedback, tell me what you think, and if it's worth still working on, or if it's a lost cause.**