Disclaimer: All the characters used belong to Marvel, who in fact like to run around in speedos in the winter.

Quick Note: takes place after Day of Reckoning and during Bloodstained Machinations, danke danke.

***

Darkness swirled around his eyes like an endless parade of forbidden pleasures, seeping in and out from unconsciousness.

Images began to form out of the shadows, images of his sister, the angry look she had had on her face. Pain and frustration had screamed out from behind her luminescent eyes, the way she had bared her teeth like some sort of feral animal when she had come upon the two of them.

Wanda.. he thought faintly, his eyes fluttering, he hadn't wanted to hurt her anymore, but like always his father had convinced him that there was something greater to work towards.

Something that she couldn't be a part of.

His body stirred, jerked back into reality. He opened his eyes to darkness; he couldn't see anything but he could feel the earth pressing down on top of him. He struggled to breathe; it stank of blood and sweat, his sweat.

"Fuck," he whispered, realizing exactly where he was.

Trapped.

Awakening
By Kitten

His hands were beginning to cramp, yet he continued to paw at the earth. His breathing was shallow and weak, his heart raced with fear.

He swore softly when his fingers tore at stone, breaking off three of his fingernails, blood oozed slowly down his arm leaving a trail like some sort of plump slug.

He shuddered and tried to maneuver his hands around the chunk of stone, it worked and he grabbed onto what seemed to be a rail of some kind, pulling hard he began to pull himself up towards the surface little by little.

Pain flared in his left thigh and he stopped, wheezing. He bit into his lip, trying hard to ignore the searing feeling in his leg.

"Son of a bitch," he panted out and dragged himself further upwards.

Something was wrong.

Pietro tugged himself up gently and felt it; yup that's what was wrong. Hoooo boy we found yer problem all right!

His leg was stuck, but not between something, rather, it was stuck on something.

Half way to tears he sneaked one arm down to his thigh, he felt something wet, sticky.

Oh fuck me, his mind whispered. Please let that be piss, tell me that I've turned into such a pussy that I've wet myself.

He fingered the substance and felt his heart grow cold. It wasn't urine.

"fuck." He stated weakly, his hand felt along his thigh and he laughed nervously when he felt the coldness of an iron bar.

He laughed again, coming close to hysterics, quiet and suffocated hysterics but hysterics all the same.

There was a fucking bar stuck though his goddamn leg!!

Pietro coughed and choked on the shallow air, he wouldn't last much longer down here.

Grabbing onto the railing once more he took as many deep breaths as he could down in this shit hole, mentally preparing himself for what was to come.
He pulled upwards, sweat began to bead off his skin and he paused.

"Come on you little puss," he said to himself. "Don't wuss out now..this is a challenge right? So just fucking do it."

He tightened his grip on the railing and hauled himself upwards, feeling his stomach drop when he heard the bar slipping though his flesh. He continued, the pain flaring up to almost unbearable amounts, he kept going.

Straining towards the surface, feeling blood rush its way down his thigh and into the depths of the earth. He shut his eyes tightly and puffed out a dry breath, the fucking thing wouldn't let him go, it would hold onto him until he suffocated down in this type of man made hell.

"Fuck that," he muttered as he yanked himself free, screaming in pain as the last bit of the bar slid out of his leg.

With the last bit of strength he could find Pietro hauled himself up another notch until his entire body was sprawled out on stone, he could feel air seeping in through the upper world. He reached upwards but collapsed and blacked out once more, seeing his sister's vengeful eyes just before darkness took him once more.

***

Pietro awoke to the sound of distant voices, someone laughing. It seemed so out of place and
un-earthly that he thought he was still dreaming, he twitched and groaned once, choking on the dusty air.

What if it's soldiers? Or police? His mind asked him.

Staying silent he tried to hear what they were saying, the voices were getting closer by the minute.

He tried to shrink back, his leg screamed with pain and he had to bite his lip. Someone was very
close, he could hear their footsteps, heavy paces.

"Gotcha," a gruff voice said straight above him, Pietro shut his eyes and prayed that it was the
police, at least that way they would take him to the hospital before they stuck his ass in jail.

Stone was lifted and Pietro felt the heavenly breeze of fresh air, its cold aroma filling his senses.
He opened one puffy eye and saw a blurred yet recognizable figure, the long blonde hair, the ratty over coat, it was Sabertooth.

"How?" He managed to wheeze out, Sabertooh patted his nose twice, a half grin on his face.

"I smelt blood, so I came a runnin'. Was hoping that you were going to be a nice tasty treat but I guess ol boss man will be happy that his kid's alive."

He lifted Pietro up as if he was a rag doll, throwing him over his left shoulder as he plodded back over towards the group. Pietro coughed, his ribs pressing into his sandy lungs.

"Give me my son," he heard his father say, his voice was tired yet still powerful. He felt his body being passed, warm strong arms held him close. Memories flooded his mind, he strained to see his father's face clearly yet he was suddenly tired once again.

"Sleep now Pietro, you are safe."

His eyes slipped shut and his fear and pain fell away, he was asleep almost instantly, curled against his father's chest like he was an infant again.

***

He awoke to the sound of laughter, his eyes opened slowly and he felt warm and fuzzy. As far as he could tell he was in a bed, the covers soft and heated, his leg ached but felt better than before.
A door opened and a figure came softly in, its dark form illuminated by the glow of television. The laughter sounded again and the stranger sat next to his bed and stroked his hair comfortingly. He struggled to see the face, it was dark and all he could see was the faint outline of a woman.

"Mom?" He said groggily, the figure brushed his forehead and shushed him, telling him to sleep.

Her voice was soft and barely above a whisper, he struggled and tried to sit up, she helped him up and he noticed how tender her touch was.

"Are you thirsty?" She asked, and he nodded, his throat had never felt so old or dry.

He was given water and then eased back down onto the awaiting pillows, he tried to say more but the words were stuck in his throat, he curled up under the covers and fell asleep again.

***

Everything you say, I want to know.
The depth of the sea, the height of the sky, the mysteries of blue filled skies.
These wonderful wonders, this view.
That's why I fell in love with you
I am yours
Even now I want to be an angel

The voice was heavenly, the pitch high and sweet, each word seemed to flow along on a river of compassion and sadness. He stirred when he heard this angelic voice, his eyes fluttering, wanting to open and see her beauty. They opened, light shone in through an open window, and he squinted around the room half expecting heaven instead of a bedroom.

The angel was sitting on the bed, next to his injured leg. Her hands worked quickly and lovingly as she re-dressed his wound, he felt no pain as she did this, only amazement. She sang as she worked, her lips parting and that beautiful voice flowing out elegantly in waves of bliss.

Pietro looked at her face and nearly cried. The light from the window illuminated her doll like features, enhancing his idea that she was an angel; her eyes were the color of the sky and filled with compassion. Her skin was a pale lavender that seemed to glow in the sunlight, her dark wine colored hair tumbled forward over her shoulders when she leaned over to finish the wrapping.

He coughed and she turned and looked at him, a gentle smile spreading across her lips. Pietro couldn't help but smile back, she looked into his eyes.

"Good morning sleepy head."

He grinned and slowly sat up, feeling refreshed and awake. "Morning," he said, marveling at how groggy he sounded. He cleared his throat and looked back up into her face.

"Where am I?" He asked, looking about the room. It was an apartment bedroom, white walls and soft lights.

"Home." She said happily, he looked at her confused and she got up off the bed. She took out a blue robe from the closet and held it out to him.

"How about you get cleaned up and then I can take you to see your father? He can explain every thing to you."

He nodded, a bath would be very nice right around now. He was sure he didn't smell very good, having been asleep for who knows how long.

She left him to put on the robe and he could hear her humming as she went into the bathroom, moments later when he had slipped into the robe she knocked softly and told him his bath was ready. She helped him walk to the bathroom, then left him to a large tub full of bubbles and lit candles.

Pietro sighed and slipped into the tub, feeling like he had woke up from a very long dream.

He thought about the girl, the angel, who was she? And how did she know his father?

Sliding under the bubbles he dismissed all thoughts and kept his mind on what was most important, getting clean. He scrubbed and sloshed about in the tub until he felt spotless then he slipped back into the robe and hobbled to the door. She was there, smiling, ready to help him get back to his room, fresh bandages in her hands.

Once she had dressed his already healing wound she left him to get dressed, having already laid out clean clothes on the bed.

Well who ever she is, she's really something. His mind mused.

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