.
"He's blue, man, he's -blue-!" Was the first thing Scott heard when he walked into the infirmary. Freddie was standing at the foot of Pietro's bed, looking frantic, unsure of what to do to help the smaller, who was laying limp on the bed.
Scott froze at the sight--Freddie wasn't lying, he was -blue.- It could've simply stood out more because of his already pale skin and locks of pure white hair, but that realization didn't help Scott at all. His eyes widened, and he almost fell backwards at the shocking picture.
He all but ran forward to Pietro's bedside, full leader-mood engaged, trying to think of anything that would help the situation.
"Summers? Why are -you- here? You can't help!" Freddie was saying, he was growing more anxious by the second.
Pietro's lips were a deep, sapphire blue, and his eyes were half-closed; what Scott could see of them were blood red. The irony that this was usually vice versa was wasted on Scott.
"Is he choking?" He finally managed to demand, turning to stare at Freddie, who just met his gaze helplessly.
He had taken first aid but he couldn't remember; what was he supposed to do?! First aid . . . the heart!
Scott pressed one hand against Pietro's chest to feel for its beating, while the other grabbed his wrist, in case he couldn't feel the heart through his lungs.
He didn't need to, however, Pietro's heart was beating frantically underneath his palm, at an even faster rate then before, if that was even possible. It was almost impossible to think that busily moving and beating heart was connected to that cold, lifeless face.
Okay, so … what the heck did -that- mean? Scott couldn't remember! A lot of use he was, Scott thought bitterly.
He didn't get the chance to dwell on it, however as the door flew open.
Finally, Mr. McCoy bolted into the room. He took one look at Pietro and ran to another section of the room, where cabinets lay in wait.
"I was afraid this was going to happen." The large doctor was muttering to himself as he grabbed a random needle. He tapped the thin metal as he approached quickly. "It would be best if you both waited outside. I wouldn't describe this process as pleasant." He said almost absentmindedly as he injected the clear liquid into Pietro's pale arm.
Scott did as he was told, the last thing he wanted to do was interfere by getting in Mr. McCoy's way.
Freddie seemed to be stuck, however, staring down at, quite possibly, the thinnest member of the Brotherhood.
"Come on," He called to the large boy, well aware of the fact that they were of no use. It took Freddie a moment to listen, seeming mesmerized.
They slowly trooped out, brushing past Lance, who gave Scott the official, 'I don't like you but can't do anything about it right now, but that doesn't mean I like you, cause I don't' look.
Mr. McCoy watched the teen on the bed closely, and seeing no immediate change in manner, refilled the needle and injected into the boy once again.
The effect was immediate, and rather disturbing--he hadn't lied, it was the main reason he had asked Freddie to leave.
"GA-ah!" The strangled screech didn't sound human-- as if it were fighting to even break free of the pale throat. It echoed across the room as Pietro started withering on the bed, clawing uselessly on the sheets, his still numb face twisting in agony.
Mr. McCoy watched impassively, but was still mildly startled at the next, expected stage.
Pietro shot up in bed, screaming louder then ever, his chest finally able to rip in oxygen at a rate that was useful, his eyes were wide and blood shot, his skin still as dark as ever. Henry knew the boy would have no memory of this later.
Suddenly, all sounds halted.
He dropped to the bed as his eyes rolled back into his head, the dark, raging blue already calming to a lighter shade.
The echo lingered only for a moment, and Henry sighed in relief as he checked over the patients vitals, and properly inhaling chest.
"What happened?"
Henry had to admit the voice took him by surprise-- even with his enhanced abilities. He supposed he had been too concentrated on the boy to really pay attention to his surroundings, even the sound of a teenage girl walking to the same room as himself.
"Wanda," He greeted.
"What happened?" She repeated coldly, meeting Henry in the eye. That was something not many could achieve, not while he was in his natural form, let alone a teen. "Why is he . . . -blue-?"
He saw no reason to lie. "To combat the injury Quicksilver gained in the battle, to his lungs, we had to put a sort of sedation on the entire system, so it could heal properly."
"So?"
"Well, the rest of his body continued to work at it's normal pace. This left him hard pressed for any oxygen." He explained.
"So what'd you just do?" She asked, looking oddly protective for a sibling who swore life long hatred. "What'd you put in him?"
"It's a stronger brand of the same sedation, to keep his body in sync (a.n: no jokes. i swear, one joke and you're all goin' down. this is serious business, dang it!)," He said. "The effect was immediate, and he took over the rest, as you just witnessed."
"Why was he screaming?" She finally growled out, and wasn't until she demanded this that Henry realized that was what she had been trying to get across the entire time.
"His entire upper body had gone numb, completely asleep." He said. "You've experienced such feelings I'm sure, with your foot or leg?"
She nodded shortly.
"That was the pain of his mind . . . waking up, if you will. Regaining sensation." He said. "The sedative also has a sort of burning sensation, or so I'm told. He won't remember it, of course," He added quickly, catching the angry glint beginning to form in her face, and assuming it had to do with the pain her twin had been experiencing.
The annoyance died, and Wanda gave Mr. McCoy a weary look before taking her quietly wheezing brother in. He was now an attractive shade of baby blue. But instead of his trademark, curled up position, he was laying as he fell, arms flaccid and inert at his side, head turned to the side.
Mr. McCoy wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but definitely not for the girl to suddenly let out an enraged growl and storm out of the room, as if the sight of Pietro offended her deeply on some level.
But, he had given up on understanding teenagers years ago.
Jean Gray did not believe in sleeping in. She also did not believe in waiting for the last possible moment to study for a test or using the very last drop of hot water while in the shower.
Oddly enough, she had broken all three of these beliefs in less then the time period that Pietro had come to stay at then mansion, and even stranger then that, each of these things were closely related to each other. She had exited out of her room once a day, to go to school.
Which manage to explain her extremely baffled face upon entering the living room, and overhearing only, "--So, like, his ribs are -cracked- from being hit or did they say? Cause I think it would take, like, a lot to make someone turn -blue-." That was, of course, Kitty.
"They didn't say." Wanda replied flatly.
"What's going on?" Jean asked, looking over the group curiously. Since when did Kitty have anything to say to Wanda, or even sit in the same room together?
The Brotherhood and Kitty quickly filled her in; Kitty was amazed that she had managed to miss the redhead in her early wake up call, but it was decided that Jean must've been in the shower at the time.
She had just gotten seated when Evan stumbled in, asking about the latest "attempt for attention by Maximoff."
All conversation was stopped as they looked up and saw a familiar body in the door way.
"Whoa," Pietro's voice was slightly deeper then any was necessarily used to hearing it. They all turned to stare at the blonde, who was staring at his hand in amazement.
"What are you doing out of bed? Did Mr. McCoy let you?" Jean asked for no other purpose then to affirm that she knew what was going on.
"He didn't -stop- me." Pietro said, very lazily and slow, then suddenly swung his arm, watching it's movement in amazement.
"You're asking the wrong questions." Todd said flatly. "Pietro, was Mr. McCoy there?"
"Nope." He said, swing his arm back in front of him. "Whoa, look at this," He said suddenly, but still in a sluggish tone that none could ever recognize him using in the past.
They all watched as he did the same arm movement as before, looking absolutely fascinated.
"Um, what?" Freddie finally got the nerve up to ask.
"No blurred edges, no whooshing sound." He looked at Lance, "I'll bet you can even see it."
"Yes, we can." Lance said in a humoring tone, appearing a bit worried. Pietro would have to go insane -in front- of everyone, wouldn't he? No, he couldn't do it in private, where he had a chance to hide it.
"I'm doing it as fast as I can, Lance!" He said shortly, not at all pleased with the 'I'm pitying you' tone. He waved his arm again, just in case one of the students present in the room had missed this stunning feat before. "I haven't felt this doped up since I was drugged with Ritalin."
They all waited silently for the hyper boy's reaction to his predicament, which they were all sure would result in a fit that would rival Wanda on her worst of days.
He blinked, then suddenly darted from the doorway. "Chocolate!"
The silence continued for a beat longer.
"Uh … okay." Evan finally blurted.
"Did he say chocolate?"
a.n: my attempts to make this less pietro-centric have failed miserably. t'oh well. if you cross your fingers and hope, the next chapter might just be longer… ^^;;;;;
"He's blue, man, he's -blue-!" Was the first thing Scott heard when he walked into the infirmary. Freddie was standing at the foot of Pietro's bed, looking frantic, unsure of what to do to help the smaller, who was laying limp on the bed.
Scott froze at the sight--Freddie wasn't lying, he was -blue.- It could've simply stood out more because of his already pale skin and locks of pure white hair, but that realization didn't help Scott at all. His eyes widened, and he almost fell backwards at the shocking picture.
He all but ran forward to Pietro's bedside, full leader-mood engaged, trying to think of anything that would help the situation.
"Summers? Why are -you- here? You can't help!" Freddie was saying, he was growing more anxious by the second.
Pietro's lips were a deep, sapphire blue, and his eyes were half-closed; what Scott could see of them were blood red. The irony that this was usually vice versa was wasted on Scott.
"Is he choking?" He finally managed to demand, turning to stare at Freddie, who just met his gaze helplessly.
He had taken first aid but he couldn't remember; what was he supposed to do?! First aid . . . the heart!
Scott pressed one hand against Pietro's chest to feel for its beating, while the other grabbed his wrist, in case he couldn't feel the heart through his lungs.
He didn't need to, however, Pietro's heart was beating frantically underneath his palm, at an even faster rate then before, if that was even possible. It was almost impossible to think that busily moving and beating heart was connected to that cold, lifeless face.
Okay, so … what the heck did -that- mean? Scott couldn't remember! A lot of use he was, Scott thought bitterly.
He didn't get the chance to dwell on it, however as the door flew open.
Finally, Mr. McCoy bolted into the room. He took one look at Pietro and ran to another section of the room, where cabinets lay in wait.
"I was afraid this was going to happen." The large doctor was muttering to himself as he grabbed a random needle. He tapped the thin metal as he approached quickly. "It would be best if you both waited outside. I wouldn't describe this process as pleasant." He said almost absentmindedly as he injected the clear liquid into Pietro's pale arm.
Scott did as he was told, the last thing he wanted to do was interfere by getting in Mr. McCoy's way.
Freddie seemed to be stuck, however, staring down at, quite possibly, the thinnest member of the Brotherhood.
"Come on," He called to the large boy, well aware of the fact that they were of no use. It took Freddie a moment to listen, seeming mesmerized.
They slowly trooped out, brushing past Lance, who gave Scott the official, 'I don't like you but can't do anything about it right now, but that doesn't mean I like you, cause I don't' look.
Mr. McCoy watched the teen on the bed closely, and seeing no immediate change in manner, refilled the needle and injected into the boy once again.
The effect was immediate, and rather disturbing--he hadn't lied, it was the main reason he had asked Freddie to leave.
"GA-ah!" The strangled screech didn't sound human-- as if it were fighting to even break free of the pale throat. It echoed across the room as Pietro started withering on the bed, clawing uselessly on the sheets, his still numb face twisting in agony.
Mr. McCoy watched impassively, but was still mildly startled at the next, expected stage.
Pietro shot up in bed, screaming louder then ever, his chest finally able to rip in oxygen at a rate that was useful, his eyes were wide and blood shot, his skin still as dark as ever. Henry knew the boy would have no memory of this later.
Suddenly, all sounds halted.
He dropped to the bed as his eyes rolled back into his head, the dark, raging blue already calming to a lighter shade.
The echo lingered only for a moment, and Henry sighed in relief as he checked over the patients vitals, and properly inhaling chest.
"What happened?"
Henry had to admit the voice took him by surprise-- even with his enhanced abilities. He supposed he had been too concentrated on the boy to really pay attention to his surroundings, even the sound of a teenage girl walking to the same room as himself.
"Wanda," He greeted.
"What happened?" She repeated coldly, meeting Henry in the eye. That was something not many could achieve, not while he was in his natural form, let alone a teen. "Why is he . . . -blue-?"
He saw no reason to lie. "To combat the injury Quicksilver gained in the battle, to his lungs, we had to put a sort of sedation on the entire system, so it could heal properly."
"So?"
"Well, the rest of his body continued to work at it's normal pace. This left him hard pressed for any oxygen." He explained.
"So what'd you just do?" She asked, looking oddly protective for a sibling who swore life long hatred. "What'd you put in him?"
"It's a stronger brand of the same sedation, to keep his body in sync (a.n: no jokes. i swear, one joke and you're all goin' down. this is serious business, dang it!)," He said. "The effect was immediate, and he took over the rest, as you just witnessed."
"Why was he screaming?" She finally growled out, and wasn't until she demanded this that Henry realized that was what she had been trying to get across the entire time.
"His entire upper body had gone numb, completely asleep." He said. "You've experienced such feelings I'm sure, with your foot or leg?"
She nodded shortly.
"That was the pain of his mind . . . waking up, if you will. Regaining sensation." He said. "The sedative also has a sort of burning sensation, or so I'm told. He won't remember it, of course," He added quickly, catching the angry glint beginning to form in her face, and assuming it had to do with the pain her twin had been experiencing.
The annoyance died, and Wanda gave Mr. McCoy a weary look before taking her quietly wheezing brother in. He was now an attractive shade of baby blue. But instead of his trademark, curled up position, he was laying as he fell, arms flaccid and inert at his side, head turned to the side.
Mr. McCoy wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting, but definitely not for the girl to suddenly let out an enraged growl and storm out of the room, as if the sight of Pietro offended her deeply on some level.
But, he had given up on understanding teenagers years ago.
Jean Gray did not believe in sleeping in. She also did not believe in waiting for the last possible moment to study for a test or using the very last drop of hot water while in the shower.
Oddly enough, she had broken all three of these beliefs in less then the time period that Pietro had come to stay at then mansion, and even stranger then that, each of these things were closely related to each other. She had exited out of her room once a day, to go to school.
Which manage to explain her extremely baffled face upon entering the living room, and overhearing only, "--So, like, his ribs are -cracked- from being hit or did they say? Cause I think it would take, like, a lot to make someone turn -blue-." That was, of course, Kitty.
"They didn't say." Wanda replied flatly.
"What's going on?" Jean asked, looking over the group curiously. Since when did Kitty have anything to say to Wanda, or even sit in the same room together?
The Brotherhood and Kitty quickly filled her in; Kitty was amazed that she had managed to miss the redhead in her early wake up call, but it was decided that Jean must've been in the shower at the time.
She had just gotten seated when Evan stumbled in, asking about the latest "attempt for attention by Maximoff."
All conversation was stopped as they looked up and saw a familiar body in the door way.
"Whoa," Pietro's voice was slightly deeper then any was necessarily used to hearing it. They all turned to stare at the blonde, who was staring at his hand in amazement.
"What are you doing out of bed? Did Mr. McCoy let you?" Jean asked for no other purpose then to affirm that she knew what was going on.
"He didn't -stop- me." Pietro said, very lazily and slow, then suddenly swung his arm, watching it's movement in amazement.
"You're asking the wrong questions." Todd said flatly. "Pietro, was Mr. McCoy there?"
"Nope." He said, swing his arm back in front of him. "Whoa, look at this," He said suddenly, but still in a sluggish tone that none could ever recognize him using in the past.
They all watched as he did the same arm movement as before, looking absolutely fascinated.
"Um, what?" Freddie finally got the nerve up to ask.
"No blurred edges, no whooshing sound." He looked at Lance, "I'll bet you can even see it."
"Yes, we can." Lance said in a humoring tone, appearing a bit worried. Pietro would have to go insane -in front- of everyone, wouldn't he? No, he couldn't do it in private, where he had a chance to hide it.
"I'm doing it as fast as I can, Lance!" He said shortly, not at all pleased with the 'I'm pitying you' tone. He waved his arm again, just in case one of the students present in the room had missed this stunning feat before. "I haven't felt this doped up since I was drugged with Ritalin."
They all waited silently for the hyper boy's reaction to his predicament, which they were all sure would result in a fit that would rival Wanda on her worst of days.
He blinked, then suddenly darted from the doorway. "Chocolate!"
The silence continued for a beat longer.
"Uh … okay." Evan finally blurted.
"Did he say chocolate?"
a.n: my attempts to make this less pietro-centric have failed miserably. t'oh well. if you cross your fingers and hope, the next chapter might just be longer… ^^;;;;;