A Nightclub Flower Chapter 23: Pup Tents and Pop Tarts and Pietro, Oh My!, a x-men: evolution fanfic

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Chapter Twenty-Three: Pup Tents and Pop Tarts and Pietro, Oh My!

Nat yawned and stretched, her eyes drifting shut again. The sun streaming in through the windows was making the room warmer and warmer even though it wasn't much later than six in the morning. Still, she was too lazy to make the move to pull the cord on the curtains, or to switch on the air conditioner. Outside, a lethargic haze of pollen danced on a late spring breeze, and down the road, she watched a group of children racing along Graymalkin Lane on bicycles. She sighed, letting her head fall over the edge of the bed in an attempt to ease the bunched muscles at the base of her skull.

The nightmares were back. Not the same nightmares as before, but a whole new set, with a whole new theme. The worst part was that they weren't really nightmares, just dreams that she didn't want to be having, which is essentially the same thing…

She was thinking about Pietro.

For several nights in a row now, the white-haired mutant had intruded upon her dreams with more intensity than he had ever intruded into her personal space in the real world, and she was beginning to worry about her mental stability.

The dreams always started the same way. Nat was waiting for something, sitting on a wooden bench on the sidewalk, like the ones set up at bus stops. It was a hot day, reminiscent of the weather that had started to creep in lately, and the air was wavering as if the landscape were a painting or a tile collage at the bottom of a swimming pool. For some reason, she was dressed entirely in heavy black clothes from collar to feet, which were obscurely bare. Her toenails were painted with glittery polish, and she occupied herself for some time by staring at them in boredom, propping her ankles on the edge of the seat to get a better look. Sweat was dampening her neck and face, and her hair clung to her temples.

She sat there waiting for what felt like hours, feeling faintly nauseated as heat permeated her body. Drowsiness began to stalk up on her, and she closed her eyes just in time to hear Kurt's voice. She turned and smiled, the disgusting heat beating down a little less harshly now, and saw Kurt beside her, wearing his holowatch. Always, they greeted each other warmly with a kiss, but his lips felt strange, and when she said as much he smiled oddly and patted his watch, his outward appearance shimmering and melting away. Nat was terrified at what she saw.

It wasn't the familiar, comforting, blue-furred face that she hoped to see, but the slightly sneering face of Pietro, Kurt's voice still passing through his lips. He, in a voice that seemed so wrong to hear from his mouth, spoke of things she'd heard Pietro say many times before, things she had tried to forget, things that riled her blood. Her heart went from angry to sad to interested and back again in seconds. She felt a terrible ache rise up within her, an outpouring of thought and feeling that swelled forward from the broken dike of her mind. Nat tried to pull away, but stumbled and was caught by his arms and pulled back onto the seat. He cradled her against his chest in a way that made her not want to try to flee, somehow anchoring her into what felt like reality. Her head was hot with a feverish sweat, her heart pounding in her ribs, but the solid feeling of Pietro against her back was more appealing than the swaying, tumbling world beyond that bench.

And here, as always, she would awake, and her body would quake with sorrow, with fear. Nat told herself over and over that it was simply a harmless dream, her subconscious scrapping together elements of her life into a patchwork quilt of truth and delusion. It wasn't Pietro that attracted her, or even his words. It was the ideas that he presented, and the alternate vision of the future that he served to her on a less than silver platter. And ideas can be squelched, left behind and forgotten. That was her goal. She wasn't a member of the Brotherhood, and had no plans to become one, as she had told him so many times, but she still was not beyond the doubts that loitered so heavily in the recesses of her mind.

She was comfortable at the mansion, with her friends. Professor Xavier was an almost fatherly figure, a teacher and benefactor of the caliber that Nat had never known before. The other students treated her like family, and she knew for the first time what it was like to care for someone and, at the same time, be irritated to the bone by them. And then, of course, there was Kurt, by far her closest companion at the institute. She knew that at that very moment he was probably just waking up, and would be in soon to make sure that she didn't spend the entire day in bed.

A quick rapping at the door interrupted her mental rambling, and confirmed her thoughts of Kurt. She smiled, her thoughts mostly abandoned, and tossed the blankets off of her, sitting cross-legged and stretching. She yawned widely, calling for him to come in.

Nat and the other students, under the watchful eye of Logan, were planning a camping trip for the long weekend. She had packed the night before and left her bags in the foyer, as Logan had ordered, but she still felt strange, as if she had forgotten something, or something odd was going on. No matter. It was probably just the damn dreams.

Kurt appeared at the foot of her bed, leaping over the headboard. Playfully frightened, Nat shrieked and scrambled away, smacking her elbow on the bedside table but too engrossed in their usual game to notice. He landed on her, knocking her off the edge of the bed with a yelp and pinning her to the floor, his tail slashing happily at the air.

"Wie geht's? Vy are you still lying around, you lazy thing?"

Nat laughed and shoved him off of her, rubbing her elbow. "'Cause that's what we lazy things do." She yawned again and stretched, propping her back up against the side of the bed and rubbing the bottoms of her bare feet against the rug. "Do you have all your things packed?"

"Ja, but I need to give you something so your face von't get burned at the lake. It's very sunny there, you know." He pulled a small wad of fabric out from behind his back and shook it out, donning it ceremoniously on Nat's head. It was a red baseball cap, faded and worn. She recalled the memory of the boy at the store outside of Hawthorne, and the fluttery, happy feeling of being cared for, and cared about. So much could be symbolized in a baseball cap. "There. Now you are ready to go."

Nat glanced skeptically down at her bare legs sticking out of the bottom of her oversized t-shirt. "I'm not wearing any pants. Logan might have a problem with me going camping in my underwear."

"That's okay, mein Flamme. You are ready to go to my room…"

He leaped forward again, attacking her face and neck with kisses. She slapped at his shoulder, laughing, but put up no real struggle.

Darkholme watched Lensherr closely as he gathered his jacket and made his way to the door. She tapped a long, pointed fingernail absently on the disk she had received, eyeing her computer vaguely. He seemed almost in a rush, as if he was running late for a meeting.

He paused in the doorway and looked back over his shoulder at her, drawing the collar of his jacket up around his face. "Get this going as soon as possible, Raven. I've been looking for this mutant for a long time, and if we have to spend another twenty years trying to get hold of her, you will be held responsible. Needless to say, I won't be pleased."

Mystique swallowed. "Of course. I'm working on it. I think Pietro might actually be making some progress with her. Last time he reported to me, he'd been able to rattle her cage a bit, so to speak. She knows that Pietro is privy to some rather…delicate information regarding her past."

"I appreciate his efforts, but keep in mind that if he fails, it will be your head. This is your mission, Mystique, not the boy's. I'm sure you understand." Magneto's nostrils flared slightly.

She nodded curtly, feeling oddly as if there was a strange sort of liquid-filled bubble just behind her eyes, and Magneto gave her a cold look and turned, disappearing down the hallway. With a loud exhale, the now dark-haired woman dropped into her seat, still fiddling inattentively with the disk, and decided that she might as well get this started as soon as she could. She typed in her password and opened the drive, waiting patiently for the file to appear.

Raven leaned against her palm, cursing the inventors of slow computer drives and pondering the circumstances. It wasn't good to have Magneto mad at her, this she knew all to well, but the situation warranted more consideration than what was provided by a simple order from the boss. There were F.O.H. agents in town, more than there had been in months, and a heightened level of danger lurked for all the mutants in Bayville and the surrounding areas.

Since the incident with her son at the amusement park a few weeks before, Mystique had kept an eye out for more agents, and it seemed that they were having some sort of unofficial convention. To Mystique's relief, she had heard nothing of an appearance by the founder of the F.O.H., her other son Graydon Creed, so in all likelihood they would clear out by the end of the month. Until then, the Brotherhood and X-Men alike were potential targets. Powers had to be kept low for a while, whenever possible used only in private. Both teams were always careful to keep their identities under wraps to avoid such confrontations, but now it was all the more vital. This being the case, it was going to be more difficult than Magneto knew to get hold of the girl.

The F.O.H. were, in Mystique's eyes, senseless bigots whose purpose lies only in being a nuisance, but even the most juvenile of minds can, when gathered in large numbers, create a hazard.

Besides that, Mystique was even farther from Fairbanks than she had indicated. With Tolensky, Alvers and the others, she had simply been the first to seriously approach them to join her team, the first to appeal to their own personal beliefs and desires. Rogue had been an embarrassing failure, having left the Brotherhood to join Xavier's little troupe. Natalie, on the other hand, had never been a member of the Brotherhood, and seemed to be quite comfortable where she was. She had been at the institute for weeks now, becoming acclimatized to Xavier and, perhaps most damaging of all, to the other students. Toad had told her, although Pietro was yet to mention it, that she was even romantically involved with Nightcrawler, a revelation that both irritated and intrigued Mystique.

When the file opened, she read silently for a moment, her eyes widening and her jaw set. Since when was Magneto a follower of ridiculous things like prophecies?

She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. However, there was merit in such things much more often than most people realized. What of the Crimson Gem of Cyttorak, after all? A red stone and what sounded like a bunch of ancient mumbo-jumbo had granted Cain Marko incredible strength and near indestructibility, creating the force known as the Juggernaut.

Mystique narrowed her eyes and leaned forward, hunching her shoulders as if to shield the screen from prying eyes. If this was correct, and it certainly appeared that it was...well, it was no wonder that Lensherr wanted the girl. She could be invaluable.

He was right about one thing: there was a lot going on here.

Logan stood back, eyeing the back of the hulking van with a measure of satisfaction. Not his preferred method of transit, but it would do. They had managed to force enough supplies for a month into the back of the overcrowded vehicle, much to Wolverine's original protest, but Ororo had convinced him that it was best to be prepared. Actually, "convince" wasn't quite what she had done; it was more like blackmail, last time he'd checked. Lousy Weather Witch, he thought, suppressing a chuckle.

He pulled his dirty cowboy hat down so it shaded his eyes from the sun, hopping into the front seat and letting it lean backward, crossing his ankles on the dashboard. The plastic hula girl wiggled and bobbed indignantly, her artificial grass skirt swaying. Logan popped it off of the dash and flung it out the window to land in the flower patch, then cupped his hands around his mouth and bellowed.

"Hey! You brats comin' or what?"

Scott was the first to arrive, his red shades gleaming in the sunlight. Jean was close behind, wearing khakis and sunglasses of her own, her red hair pulled back into a braided knot at the top of her long, swanlike neck. Logan, with a jolt, reminded himself that she was barely nineteen, and therefore totally off-limits. Once those two were squared away, Evan and Rogue piled in. Evan looked as happy as Logan had ever seen him, grinning and chatting about pitching a tent and going fishing. Rogue had cheered up considerably at the prospect of getting out of Bayville for the first time in months, and actually looked as if she might be able to sit next to Evan without popping him on the nose. Kitty showed up with yet another suitcase, which turned out to be filled with novels, and was slathering her arms and legs with sun block, going on and on about the dangers of UV rays. It took them an additional quarter of an hour to figure out if they had everything they needed and to pick their seats.

Damn city kids, was Logan's only coherent thought. Well, the only coherent thought that was not flooded out by a stream of swear words and other vulgarities.

He had just put the key into the ignition and was ready to go when someone bravely asked, "Where are Nat and Kurt?"

Logan slapped the steering wheel, snarling, "If the Elf and his little girlfriend don't get their hides out here in two minutes, I'm leavin' without 'em, and I ain't kiddin'!"

Jean smiled slightly to herself, and closed her eyes. She raised a finger to her temple in thought, then looked up at him with a grin directed toward the rearview mirror. "They're coming, Logan."

Kurt and Nat came clattering down the front porch steps, looking somewhat disheveled. Kurt's hair was a bit mussed, and Nat was blushing as if she'd been caught doing something naughty. She wore faded, torn denim on her legs and a black T-shirt, her dark ponytail sticking out the back of a faded red baseball cap that Logan vaguely recognized. They walked close to each other, their hands clasped together, and Logan rolled his eyes at the sight.

"Get yerselves in, or stay behind and help Storm repot everythin' in the greenhouse!"

The two mutant teens exchanged a glance, and crammed themselves into the van.

Nat felt much the way Evan did about this experience, only with that touch of awe one feels when they are rediscovering a childhood pastime. She stared out the window in wonder, watching the hills and the sea of rolling, green-topped trees sailing past. Occasionally they would pass a small roadside shop or a hotel, and much more often she'd catch sight of rocky outcroppings and cliffs at the side of the road, but other than that there was little that broke the steady green theme of the scenery. It was a perfect day for setting out on a camping trip, warm and breezy with a clear sky and a good weather forecast. Of course, if the weather ended up turning bad, all it would take was a phone call back to Storm to clear away the clouds.

Beside her, Kurt wore an amused expression. "You look like you've never seen trees before, Liebchen."

Nat smiled and squirmed in her seat, moving slightly to the right so her thigh leaned against Kurt's. "I'm just excited, that's all. I haven't been camping since I was a little kid, and never anywhere quite this…wild."

He laughed and caught her hand. "Vell, I'll try to keep that in mind. Ven ve get to the lake, you stay by me," he winked at her, "und I'll protect you from the bears und mountain lions."

Nat's eyes went as wide as saucers, but Kurt's face remained solemn. "Mountain lions?"

On the other side of Kurt, Kitty elbowed him sharply in the ribs. "Don't listen to him, Nat. He's got, like, problems with reality." She grinned at Kurt. "As if you could keep away any wild animals."

Kurt's brow wrinkled, his bottom lip sticking out slightly, but his eyes were laughing. "I'm hurt, Kitty. I vas just—"

There was a sudden, loud bang and a bone-rattling jolt, lurching the students forward. The back of the van popped open and their supplies spilled across the pavement. Nat's forehead collided with the back of the seat in front of her, her safety belt biting deeply into her waist with force enough to bruise. She heard someone squeal, and saw Kitty phase through the Scott's seat and land at the older boy's feet. There was a piercing screech of balding tires and a flash of sparks outside of Nat's window that made her scream. The van pitched backward as it collided with a ledge of rocks at the side of the road, and spun for a few seconds, coming to a stop with its front bumper leaning against the railing. A few pieces of well-placed concrete and steel were the only things that kept their vehicle from plummeting two-hundred feet over the cliff. All was still and quiet.

Nat slowly raised her head and looked around. Kurt was wide-eyed and shocked, and Kitty was shaking her head as if to reorganize her jostled brain cells. Rogue was clutching the door handle, her fair-skinned face now as white as paper. Evan had his arms wrapped tightly around the back of Logan's seat, and Scott and Jean were grasping at one another's hands in terror. Even Logan looked surprised, and sat in stunned silence. That is, until the silence was broken by his angry cursing. He jumped out of the van and walked around to the side, surveying the damage. The thin glass of the side window was the only thing that separated Nat from the seething mass of fury that was their chaperone.

"Son of a God damned bitch! How the hell are we supposed ta fix this without the blasted spare tire?" He swung around, glaring at Evan. "I thought I told you to put it back in after you finished loading all your damn bags!" Evan shrugged, looking uncomfortable. Logan grunted and kicked at a pile of stones, sending them clattering down the cliff. Kurt squeezed Nat's hand and they wriggled out of the seat, clambering out of the van with the others and looking out over the road. Evan gaped, and Rogue stood silently, her arms crossed over her chest, shaking her head. Scott was on his cell phone, presumably calling Storm to come with the Blackbird or a new vehicle for escape, and Jean hung by his side, looking stunned.

"Fuck!" Logan shouted.

Several tents had been freed, and one was open, spreading its great nylon wings across the pavement. Three or four bags had fallen out, and one had torn a zipper. Kitty was hurriedly scampering about, trying to gather up her strewn underwear and socks, and Nat set out to help her. The cooler had popped its hinge, and a shiny patch of ice was littered with packages. A loaf of bread had been torn open, much to the delight of the birds that were already approaching, and a box of strawberry toaster pastries had lost its contents as well. Kurt groaned and slapped his forehead.

"Verflucht! Mein Pop Tarts!"

Scott snapped his cell phone shut and shook it lightly. "Battery's dead. I guess I forgot to charge it." He shrugged, looking sheepish. A smile spread across his face just as Logan whirled around to face him, and he pointed down the road. "We might not have to bother Storm after all. Here comes a car. They should have a spare we could buy off of them, or something."

Indeed, a large, hunter green sports utility vehicle came skidding down the road, coming to a screeching halt only a few yards away. The windows were tinted, and as the driver's side window came sliding down with a little mechanized whir, Nat felt herself go cold. She stopped dead in the middle of the road, dropping a pair of Kitty's socks onto the pavement and taking a few erratic steps backward. Kitty glanced at her in irritated surprise, but when she looked up her own mouth popped open in shock. Kurt went rigid, glaring. Logan was just shaking his head, and Jean looked conflicted.

Evan was the first to speak, with a heartfelt, "Aw, man…"

Leaning his head out of the window, his elbow resting casually on the door, was Pietro. He was smirking widely, and jerked his head back to indicate the spare tire mounted on the back of the truck. In the passenger seat beside him, Lance Alvers was bobbing his head to the sound of their deafening stereo. Nat felt sick to her stomach. This trip was supposed to be her chance to stop thinking about him!

"Well, well, well. Looks like you're pretty lucky that we were drivin' through…"