------
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
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Just when my life started taking a turn for the better, fate intervened.
It was Sunday afternoon and I had spent the better part of the day lazing in the second-floor gallery overlooking the front yard with Jamie. It had drizzled all day; else I'd probably have been outside. Instead, I was enjoying the sound of rain against the windows. Someone had the stereo in the rec room at the far end of the hall turned to a decent station for once, which provided a pleasant background.
I'd discovered that Jamie, the youngest of Xavier's students, and I shared a passion for comic books and we'd pretty much wasted several hours with a stack of them between us. We didn't talk much, except to comment on the occasional cool scene or dialogue. Just two guys hanging out. Very relaxing. We'd also managed to put away a sizable amount of ginger ale and snacks. An empty two-liter of Vernors was between us, next to another that had perhaps a couple ounces left and several bags of junk food. Life was good.
Until the sound of wrenching metal dragged my eyes off the latest exploits (among other things) of Wonder Woman, that is. I looked out the window, squinting into the rain.
"What the heck was that?" I muttered, unable to see much.
Jamie dropped his copy of 'Robin' and scooted over to the window, being extremely careful not to bump against anything. I'd learned that his mutation was to convert kinetic energy into identical copies of himself. In other words: if he bumped something, the gallery would be filled with a bunch of thirteen-year-old comic buffs. He didn't have any control over his mutation, either, which made it a real chore to be around him sometimes. On the other hand, whenever there were an odd number of people for a game, Jamie could always be counted on to even up the teams. It was all good. He pressed his nose against the glass, peering out into the overcast gloom. His eyes turned out to be somewhat better than my own.
"Someone just tore the gates off the hinges!" he exclaimed. He sounded excited for some reason. "There go the auto defenses!" Ah, that would be why. The mansion defenses leaned heavily toward really big guns, fiery explosives, spinning blades, and other fun toys. Don't look at me like that. It's a guy thing.
I looked out over the grounds, still unable to determine just who had decided to waltz in. Something told me it wasn't the Avon lady. Here and there, large machines rose out of the turf and started tracking whoever had decided to come calling. I had less-than-fond memories of the various defensive weapons on the grounds. For a moment I figured whatever had come in through the gates was probably toast. The weapons systems didn't work too well against the alleged enemy, though. As I watched, the various guns broke down one by one and I groaned. That never happened when the Brotherhood tried infiltrating the property. We never had that kind of luck.
A man came into view, moving as though unconcerned about the fact that enough firepower to take over most third-world countries was pointed in his direction. The guy was dressed in a grey overcoat with the collar turned up and a matching fedora. He wasn't getting wet, either. Rain cascaded off him, turned aside by some sort of field. I realized the guy was floating off the ground, too. Easier than wearing rubber boots and carrying around an umbrella, I suppose.
I heard the doors open in the foyer just below me and looked down in time to see my housemates spill out into the front yard in a sort of half- circle. Not too many people were hanging around, but those that were would be more than a match for whoever was out there. Thunder crackled as Storm gave the weather dial a firm twist. Wolverine was outside, too, along with Cyclops, Banshee, Beast, and Jean, who apparently didn't rate a fancy nickname.
Footsteps came up behind me and a pair of slender hands appeared on my arm.
"Ye might no' wannae stare out tha' window, Pietro," Doctor MacTaggart told me. With Xavier in Boston for a meeting of some sort, he'd left the Doc in charge. I looked up into her face, which showed a mixture of distress and concern.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "This is the most exciting thing that's happened around here all day."
I looked at the scene playing out below me and my heart just about stopped. The stranger tipped his head back to regard the assembled X-Men with a haughty expression. Deep blue eyes, sharp Roman nose. Chiseled features and white, feathery hair that matched my own. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but my father's eyes flicked up toward me several times. Oh no.
Jamie gasped beside me and ducked down below the window, scattering the stack of comic books. I knew how he felt, but managed to control my emotions a little better.
"On the other hand," I said in a strained voice, "I can think of other places I'd rather be at the moment."
I felt the Doc squeeze my shoulder in an attempt to reassure me. It would probably have worked if the guy who had decided to turn me into a pincushion hadn't been standing in front of the mansion. I felt my hands convulse on the armrests of the wheelchair and had to will myself to be calm. There were six people down there ready to wipe the pavement with that maniac. I couldn't get much safer.
My father took off his hat as Sean stepped forward. His hair didn't get wet, which meant he was projecting a heavy magnetic field around himself. Show-off. I started to get nervous. Why weren't the X-Men kicking butt? I really, really wished I could hear what they were saying down there or even see the Irishman's face. Dad didn't look...right.
It's hard to describe. The last time I'd looked my father in the eye, he'd responded with the coldest, most dispassionate look I'd ever seen on him. I'd meant absolutely nothing to him at that moment except as an example. Standing out in the rain, he looked more like the man I remembered from when I was younger. A little more worn, a little more tired, but essentially the same right down to the Van Dyke beard. I got suspicious at that point. The beard softened his features and made him look less like the homicidal, sociopathic son-of-a-bitch that he really was.
"What are they doing?" Jamie asked. I looked down at the younger boy, who was still huddled underneath the window frame out of sight of the animal outside the front door. A large part of me wanted to join him. Heck, it was all I could do not to wet my jeans. My father scared the living crap out of me, simple as that.
What can I say? My family puts the fun back into dysfunctional.
"Would you believe talking?" I grated.
Jamie peeked over the window sill. "Are they nuts?"
"Don't make me answer that."
When Wolverine lit up a cigarette, I knew something was wrong. The fact that everyone else had stood down from their battle-ready stance just confirmed it. When Dad actually floated onto the porch, I just about had a conniption.
"They can't be serious," I whispered, not bothering to hide the tremble in my voice.
This had to be a nightmare.
If only it were that easy.
I deliberately avoided looking at my old man as he walked up the stairs, concentrating instead on the latest issue of the Flash. My favorite comic book. Duh. Dad's footfalls were heavy on the marble flooring as he came up behind me. I saw Jamie flinch, which was understandable considering that the bogeyman of mutantkind had just been invited into the house, but I continued to pretend the man didn't exist. Wishful thinking on my part.
"Pietro," he said in that low, cultured voice of his. I didn't even bother glaring at him.
"Go get Hank," I told Jamie, ignoring the man behind me. The kid was looking a little peaked and figured I'd give him an excuse to scram. I really wanted an adult around me at the moment and Hank seemed like my best bet. Logan, my first choice, was out of the question. Too short a temper and that metal skeleton of his wouldn't help his odds if it boiled down to a confrontation.
Jamie scrambled to his feet and ran for the stairs. I flipped a page in the comic book, pretending to read. In actuality, I was keeping myself from turning into a really big cramp. I was tense enough that my muscles were shaking and it was an effort to keep them under control. No real surprise there. The people I'd turned to for help had just let my attempted murderer walk right into the same room with me. I had every right to be irate.
"Pietro," he said again. When I didn't answer the wheelchair spun slowly around to face the man, lifting off the floor and circling in the air. Dad reached out a hand and plucked the comic book from my hands, carefully shutting it and dropping it onto the pile with the rest. I crossed my arms, staring away from him in defiance. And people said I had no patience. I'd be patiently cranky all day if it would make him leave.
Dad set the hat carefully on the windowsill and levitated a chair across the room. It came to rest right in front of me and he sat down. He didn't say anything, just sat down. When it became obvious he wasn't going anywhere, I snarled, "What do you want, old man?"
I glanced at him in annoyance. Why couldn't he just leave me alone for once?
"I wanted to see my son," he said. I snorted and rolled my eyes.
"Checking up on your handiwork? Or did you just stop by to finish what you started?" Yeah, I was testy. Rude, even. Do you blame me?
Dad sighed. "I don't want you dead, Pietro. On the contrary, I very much wish you alive. This may come as a surprise, but I do care about your well-being."
"Funny way of showing it," I grumbled. "Next time send a card instead."
He leaned forward, gripping the arms of the wheelchair. I really didn't have any choice but to look into his eyes. That's how close he was. He looked sad for some reason. It wasn't an expression I'd seen on him much, if at all. It looked out of place.
"If I'd wanted you dead," he said in a low voice, "I wouldn't have pierced you with that needle. I'd have injected its contents into your bloodstream and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I see. So paralyzing my lower body was an act of mercy," I said, letting sarcasm drip from each word. "Well, thank you very much, sir. Next time you feel like being merciful, don't bother. It's so not you."
Dad's eyes narrowed and he frowned, lips pressed into a thin line. "You don't believe I have your best interests at heart," he said flatly. I just glowered at him. Maybe he was getting the point. He shook his head. "I'm surprised at you, Pietro. I thought you smarter than this." Hank came up the stairs, standing out of earshot but well within my view. If I needed the thug who'd sired me thrown out of the house, he'd be there. I acknowledged the big blue mutant with a nod of my head.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I spat.
My father sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. "Mystique hadn't turned out to be quite the teacher I'd hoped. Her hands-off approach made the Brotherhood soft, weak. I've seen that ruined house out of which you operated. It's not a fit home for representatives of the next stage of evolution. Between Mystique's ineptitude and that noxious pit of a residence, I felt you children needed a better existence. When I saw that you'd escaped from the base, I had a thought."
"Such as?"
"Who better to train you for survival in the coming war than my old friend, Charles Xavier?"
"You're lying. I made it here on my own, without your help."
Dad arched an eyebrow. "You were aided by Mystique and her tame seer. I have little doubt that Destiny saw through my intent." He shook his head. "Think of it, my son. Had I wanted you dead on the roof of that airplane, you would be. Had I left you unscathed, you would doubtless have gone back into that filthy existence at the boarding house. However, a life-altering injury would force Xavier to take you under his wing. To raise you with his own brood. To be the father I cannot be."
I stared at the man and didn't bother keeping the shocked look from my face. I didn't want to believe him. And yet...and yet it sort of made sense. If I hadn't needed urgent medical care, I probably would have slipped out of the plane the minute it touched down and never looked back. I'd have gone back to school, still been able to walk, and still been living in that moldering house with Lance and Wanda. But I did need that care and here I was.
"You bastard," I whispered as tears rose up in my eyes. I blinked those away, not wanting to lose my composure in front of my father. He'd raised my sister and me to be strong. Mustn't disappoint the man. "I don't believe you."
"I don't expect you to." I looked up at that. Dad looked sad again and he sighed heavily as he stood up. He picked up his hat. "Nor, I see, will asking your forgiveness do much good. Think about what I've told you, Pietro. When the time comes and the war begins, remember that I had your best interests at heart."
I stared wordlessly as he turned to leave. A wave of his hand and the heavy chair he'd been sitting in moved back into its place along the far wall. He didn't look back, just nodded at Hank as he passed. I turned toward the window and watched him walk away from the house. This was going to take some time to digest.
Dad turned around near the fountain and looked back up at me with a trace of his normal arrogance mixed into that worn-out look. Without changing expression, he raised a hand in farewell. I had a sudden, depressing thought that the next time we came face to face, it would be as enemies. I swallowed hard and blinked back the wetness in my eyes. I lifted my own hand and returned the gesture. My father nodded and the faintest of smiles crept across his face as he stood for a moment in the pouring rain. Then he turned and disappeared into the storm.
I don't know how long I sat there, staring after the man and lost in my own thoughts. I did manage to forget that Hank was in the room until he coughed directly behind me.
"Are you all right?" he asked. "What was that all about?"
I made the decision right then and there never to tell anyone about this. "Nothing," I said, voice hitching. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. Hank's hand was a warm weight on my shoulder.
"Ok. Give me a shout if you need anything."
"Sure."
Jamie wandered back in a short time after that and we started plowing through the rest of his comic books. I couldn't really concentrate on any of them, however. I was too busy replaying the entire conversation with my father in my mind.
Even pizza couldn't drag me out of my depression. I glanced around the long dinner table, wondering how quickly I could get away from my fellow housemates. With the announcement that she didn't feel like cooking, Ororo had ordered pizza from one of the local places that didn't mind delivering all the way out to the mansion. No less than two dozen large pies were spread out along the table. Pizza dinners, I found out later, were less formal than the usual meals around here. This one was devolving into a free-for-all as people jockeyed for the best toppings.
I was squeezed in between Kurt and Bobby, across from Summers and Jean near one end of the table. My furry blue boyfriend was ferociously defending the extra-large pepperoni-and-mushroom in front of him, warding off would-be diners with a fork. I don't think anyone really expected him to leave a single slice on the platter. I know I certainly didn't. The room buzzed with conversation as everyone talked animatedly. The only absentees were Xavier, who was still in Boston thanks to a storm system up there, and my sister.
I pushed aside my plate. My appetite, while normally on a par with that of the little demon beside me, was missing. "Has anyone seen Wanda?" I asked.
Summers shrugged and shared a glance with Jean, who did the same.
"I haven't seen her all day," she said, wiping tomato sauce from her mouth.
"Me neither," Kurt said around a mouthful of pizza. I should have been amused by the fact that he was holding his current slice with his tail (the better to protect his chosen pie with both hands) but even that didn't snap me out of my sour mood.
I cursed under my breath and leaned on the table, holding my chin in my hands.
"You think something's wrong?" Summers asked with a frown. "You don't look so good."
"I don't know. The visit from my Dad kind of got to me."
"Don't worry about it, man," Bobby said. "You need to lighten up. It's not like anyone got hurt, right?" I just stared at him until he raised both hands in surrender. "Right. I'll shut up now."
"You want to go out and look for her after we finish?" Summers asked. I shrugged in response.
"Sure."
"We'll find her, I'm sure. She's probably just at the mall or something," he said with that annoying smile of his.
The telephone rang, interrupting the conversation. I was secretly relieved. Summers was starting to do that knight-in-shining-armor act again and I wasn't sure how long I could keep from screaming. Thankfully, One-Eye was the closest to the hall. He stood up and dropped his napkin on the chair.
"Hello?" came his voice from the hall. "Yes, Officer, this is the Xavier Institute."
Officer? I looked up sharply, sharing a look with Kurt and Jean. All three of us leaned a little closer to the doorway, trying to listen in on the conversation. No one else noticed, I think, thanks to the dull roar of conversation at the rest of the table.
"Yeah, ok. Please put her on." There was a pause. "Wanda? This is Scott. What happened? You did what? Tell me you're kidding. Aw, man. All right, all right, calm down. We'll be right down there to pick you up. Hang on; let me give you a number." Another pause. "I don't know if you'll be able to reach him on a Sunday, but here it is." He read off a telephone number and I blinked. That sounded very familiar. I pulled my wallet out and flipped through the business cards. There it was. Why had he given her the telephone number for the Institute's lawyer? "We're on our way, ok? Just sit tight."
Summers strode back into the room and conversation died. Perfectly understandable, considering the look on his face. Either he'd just eaten an entire raw lemon or he'd been given some bad news. I was pretty sure which it would turn out to be, too.
"What is it, Scott?" Jean said in the sudden silence.
"Wanda's been arrested," he replied. My stomach flipped. Oh jeez.
"For what?" Hank asked from the head of the table.
"Assault and battery. She put Duncan into traction."
Jean and Kurt looked from Summers to me and I just knew that everyone else was doing the same thing. I fought down the rising blush that threatened to creep above my collar. My sister and I are very protective of one another, even if we don't particularly get along. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she'd done it on my behalf.
Traction, eh? That's my twin sister for you. Never does anything halfway. It's all or nothing with Wanda. I tried not to smile as I imagined that great big goon in a body cast.
"Guess we'd better go get her, huh?" I said, fighting to keep my expression bland.
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To Be Continued. Reviews welcomed. (Hint, hint.)
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To My Reviewers:
jastreit: Nice to hear you're enjoying this. I do plan to update QSC eventually, but real life has somewhat cramped my time. 'The Long Road' is the only fanfic on which I feel able to concentrate at the moment. As soon as life settles down, I'll finish the other. If I may ask, what do you like about this story? And is there anything I could be doing better?
Author's Note:
Greetings.
Read, REVIEW, and enjoy. ;) Pretty please. Comments on reviews are at the bottom again.
Cheers.
Jack
------
Just when my life started taking a turn for the better, fate intervened.
It was Sunday afternoon and I had spent the better part of the day lazing in the second-floor gallery overlooking the front yard with Jamie. It had drizzled all day; else I'd probably have been outside. Instead, I was enjoying the sound of rain against the windows. Someone had the stereo in the rec room at the far end of the hall turned to a decent station for once, which provided a pleasant background.
I'd discovered that Jamie, the youngest of Xavier's students, and I shared a passion for comic books and we'd pretty much wasted several hours with a stack of them between us. We didn't talk much, except to comment on the occasional cool scene or dialogue. Just two guys hanging out. Very relaxing. We'd also managed to put away a sizable amount of ginger ale and snacks. An empty two-liter of Vernors was between us, next to another that had perhaps a couple ounces left and several bags of junk food. Life was good.
Until the sound of wrenching metal dragged my eyes off the latest exploits (among other things) of Wonder Woman, that is. I looked out the window, squinting into the rain.
"What the heck was that?" I muttered, unable to see much.
Jamie dropped his copy of 'Robin' and scooted over to the window, being extremely careful not to bump against anything. I'd learned that his mutation was to convert kinetic energy into identical copies of himself. In other words: if he bumped something, the gallery would be filled with a bunch of thirteen-year-old comic buffs. He didn't have any control over his mutation, either, which made it a real chore to be around him sometimes. On the other hand, whenever there were an odd number of people for a game, Jamie could always be counted on to even up the teams. It was all good. He pressed his nose against the glass, peering out into the overcast gloom. His eyes turned out to be somewhat better than my own.
"Someone just tore the gates off the hinges!" he exclaimed. He sounded excited for some reason. "There go the auto defenses!" Ah, that would be why. The mansion defenses leaned heavily toward really big guns, fiery explosives, spinning blades, and other fun toys. Don't look at me like that. It's a guy thing.
I looked out over the grounds, still unable to determine just who had decided to waltz in. Something told me it wasn't the Avon lady. Here and there, large machines rose out of the turf and started tracking whoever had decided to come calling. I had less-than-fond memories of the various defensive weapons on the grounds. For a moment I figured whatever had come in through the gates was probably toast. The weapons systems didn't work too well against the alleged enemy, though. As I watched, the various guns broke down one by one and I groaned. That never happened when the Brotherhood tried infiltrating the property. We never had that kind of luck.
A man came into view, moving as though unconcerned about the fact that enough firepower to take over most third-world countries was pointed in his direction. The guy was dressed in a grey overcoat with the collar turned up and a matching fedora. He wasn't getting wet, either. Rain cascaded off him, turned aside by some sort of field. I realized the guy was floating off the ground, too. Easier than wearing rubber boots and carrying around an umbrella, I suppose.
I heard the doors open in the foyer just below me and looked down in time to see my housemates spill out into the front yard in a sort of half- circle. Not too many people were hanging around, but those that were would be more than a match for whoever was out there. Thunder crackled as Storm gave the weather dial a firm twist. Wolverine was outside, too, along with Cyclops, Banshee, Beast, and Jean, who apparently didn't rate a fancy nickname.
Footsteps came up behind me and a pair of slender hands appeared on my arm.
"Ye might no' wannae stare out tha' window, Pietro," Doctor MacTaggart told me. With Xavier in Boston for a meeting of some sort, he'd left the Doc in charge. I looked up into her face, which showed a mixture of distress and concern.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "This is the most exciting thing that's happened around here all day."
I looked at the scene playing out below me and my heart just about stopped. The stranger tipped his head back to regard the assembled X-Men with a haughty expression. Deep blue eyes, sharp Roman nose. Chiseled features and white, feathery hair that matched my own. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but my father's eyes flicked up toward me several times. Oh no.
Jamie gasped beside me and ducked down below the window, scattering the stack of comic books. I knew how he felt, but managed to control my emotions a little better.
"On the other hand," I said in a strained voice, "I can think of other places I'd rather be at the moment."
I felt the Doc squeeze my shoulder in an attempt to reassure me. It would probably have worked if the guy who had decided to turn me into a pincushion hadn't been standing in front of the mansion. I felt my hands convulse on the armrests of the wheelchair and had to will myself to be calm. There were six people down there ready to wipe the pavement with that maniac. I couldn't get much safer.
My father took off his hat as Sean stepped forward. His hair didn't get wet, which meant he was projecting a heavy magnetic field around himself. Show-off. I started to get nervous. Why weren't the X-Men kicking butt? I really, really wished I could hear what they were saying down there or even see the Irishman's face. Dad didn't look...right.
It's hard to describe. The last time I'd looked my father in the eye, he'd responded with the coldest, most dispassionate look I'd ever seen on him. I'd meant absolutely nothing to him at that moment except as an example. Standing out in the rain, he looked more like the man I remembered from when I was younger. A little more worn, a little more tired, but essentially the same right down to the Van Dyke beard. I got suspicious at that point. The beard softened his features and made him look less like the homicidal, sociopathic son-of-a-bitch that he really was.
"What are they doing?" Jamie asked. I looked down at the younger boy, who was still huddled underneath the window frame out of sight of the animal outside the front door. A large part of me wanted to join him. Heck, it was all I could do not to wet my jeans. My father scared the living crap out of me, simple as that.
What can I say? My family puts the fun back into dysfunctional.
"Would you believe talking?" I grated.
Jamie peeked over the window sill. "Are they nuts?"
"Don't make me answer that."
When Wolverine lit up a cigarette, I knew something was wrong. The fact that everyone else had stood down from their battle-ready stance just confirmed it. When Dad actually floated onto the porch, I just about had a conniption.
"They can't be serious," I whispered, not bothering to hide the tremble in my voice.
This had to be a nightmare.
If only it were that easy.
I deliberately avoided looking at my old man as he walked up the stairs, concentrating instead on the latest issue of the Flash. My favorite comic book. Duh. Dad's footfalls were heavy on the marble flooring as he came up behind me. I saw Jamie flinch, which was understandable considering that the bogeyman of mutantkind had just been invited into the house, but I continued to pretend the man didn't exist. Wishful thinking on my part.
"Pietro," he said in that low, cultured voice of his. I didn't even bother glaring at him.
"Go get Hank," I told Jamie, ignoring the man behind me. The kid was looking a little peaked and figured I'd give him an excuse to scram. I really wanted an adult around me at the moment and Hank seemed like my best bet. Logan, my first choice, was out of the question. Too short a temper and that metal skeleton of his wouldn't help his odds if it boiled down to a confrontation.
Jamie scrambled to his feet and ran for the stairs. I flipped a page in the comic book, pretending to read. In actuality, I was keeping myself from turning into a really big cramp. I was tense enough that my muscles were shaking and it was an effort to keep them under control. No real surprise there. The people I'd turned to for help had just let my attempted murderer walk right into the same room with me. I had every right to be irate.
"Pietro," he said again. When I didn't answer the wheelchair spun slowly around to face the man, lifting off the floor and circling in the air. Dad reached out a hand and plucked the comic book from my hands, carefully shutting it and dropping it onto the pile with the rest. I crossed my arms, staring away from him in defiance. And people said I had no patience. I'd be patiently cranky all day if it would make him leave.
Dad set the hat carefully on the windowsill and levitated a chair across the room. It came to rest right in front of me and he sat down. He didn't say anything, just sat down. When it became obvious he wasn't going anywhere, I snarled, "What do you want, old man?"
I glanced at him in annoyance. Why couldn't he just leave me alone for once?
"I wanted to see my son," he said. I snorted and rolled my eyes.
"Checking up on your handiwork? Or did you just stop by to finish what you started?" Yeah, I was testy. Rude, even. Do you blame me?
Dad sighed. "I don't want you dead, Pietro. On the contrary, I very much wish you alive. This may come as a surprise, but I do care about your well-being."
"Funny way of showing it," I grumbled. "Next time send a card instead."
He leaned forward, gripping the arms of the wheelchair. I really didn't have any choice but to look into his eyes. That's how close he was. He looked sad for some reason. It wasn't an expression I'd seen on him much, if at all. It looked out of place.
"If I'd wanted you dead," he said in a low voice, "I wouldn't have pierced you with that needle. I'd have injected its contents into your bloodstream and we wouldn't be having this conversation."
"I see. So paralyzing my lower body was an act of mercy," I said, letting sarcasm drip from each word. "Well, thank you very much, sir. Next time you feel like being merciful, don't bother. It's so not you."
Dad's eyes narrowed and he frowned, lips pressed into a thin line. "You don't believe I have your best interests at heart," he said flatly. I just glowered at him. Maybe he was getting the point. He shook his head. "I'm surprised at you, Pietro. I thought you smarter than this." Hank came up the stairs, standing out of earshot but well within my view. If I needed the thug who'd sired me thrown out of the house, he'd be there. I acknowledged the big blue mutant with a nod of my head.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I spat.
My father sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. "Mystique hadn't turned out to be quite the teacher I'd hoped. Her hands-off approach made the Brotherhood soft, weak. I've seen that ruined house out of which you operated. It's not a fit home for representatives of the next stage of evolution. Between Mystique's ineptitude and that noxious pit of a residence, I felt you children needed a better existence. When I saw that you'd escaped from the base, I had a thought."
"Such as?"
"Who better to train you for survival in the coming war than my old friend, Charles Xavier?"
"You're lying. I made it here on my own, without your help."
Dad arched an eyebrow. "You were aided by Mystique and her tame seer. I have little doubt that Destiny saw through my intent." He shook his head. "Think of it, my son. Had I wanted you dead on the roof of that airplane, you would be. Had I left you unscathed, you would doubtless have gone back into that filthy existence at the boarding house. However, a life-altering injury would force Xavier to take you under his wing. To raise you with his own brood. To be the father I cannot be."
I stared at the man and didn't bother keeping the shocked look from my face. I didn't want to believe him. And yet...and yet it sort of made sense. If I hadn't needed urgent medical care, I probably would have slipped out of the plane the minute it touched down and never looked back. I'd have gone back to school, still been able to walk, and still been living in that moldering house with Lance and Wanda. But I did need that care and here I was.
"You bastard," I whispered as tears rose up in my eyes. I blinked those away, not wanting to lose my composure in front of my father. He'd raised my sister and me to be strong. Mustn't disappoint the man. "I don't believe you."
"I don't expect you to." I looked up at that. Dad looked sad again and he sighed heavily as he stood up. He picked up his hat. "Nor, I see, will asking your forgiveness do much good. Think about what I've told you, Pietro. When the time comes and the war begins, remember that I had your best interests at heart."
I stared wordlessly as he turned to leave. A wave of his hand and the heavy chair he'd been sitting in moved back into its place along the far wall. He didn't look back, just nodded at Hank as he passed. I turned toward the window and watched him walk away from the house. This was going to take some time to digest.
Dad turned around near the fountain and looked back up at me with a trace of his normal arrogance mixed into that worn-out look. Without changing expression, he raised a hand in farewell. I had a sudden, depressing thought that the next time we came face to face, it would be as enemies. I swallowed hard and blinked back the wetness in my eyes. I lifted my own hand and returned the gesture. My father nodded and the faintest of smiles crept across his face as he stood for a moment in the pouring rain. Then he turned and disappeared into the storm.
I don't know how long I sat there, staring after the man and lost in my own thoughts. I did manage to forget that Hank was in the room until he coughed directly behind me.
"Are you all right?" he asked. "What was that all about?"
I made the decision right then and there never to tell anyone about this. "Nothing," I said, voice hitching. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath. Hank's hand was a warm weight on my shoulder.
"Ok. Give me a shout if you need anything."
"Sure."
Jamie wandered back in a short time after that and we started plowing through the rest of his comic books. I couldn't really concentrate on any of them, however. I was too busy replaying the entire conversation with my father in my mind.
Even pizza couldn't drag me out of my depression. I glanced around the long dinner table, wondering how quickly I could get away from my fellow housemates. With the announcement that she didn't feel like cooking, Ororo had ordered pizza from one of the local places that didn't mind delivering all the way out to the mansion. No less than two dozen large pies were spread out along the table. Pizza dinners, I found out later, were less formal than the usual meals around here. This one was devolving into a free-for-all as people jockeyed for the best toppings.
I was squeezed in between Kurt and Bobby, across from Summers and Jean near one end of the table. My furry blue boyfriend was ferociously defending the extra-large pepperoni-and-mushroom in front of him, warding off would-be diners with a fork. I don't think anyone really expected him to leave a single slice on the platter. I know I certainly didn't. The room buzzed with conversation as everyone talked animatedly. The only absentees were Xavier, who was still in Boston thanks to a storm system up there, and my sister.
I pushed aside my plate. My appetite, while normally on a par with that of the little demon beside me, was missing. "Has anyone seen Wanda?" I asked.
Summers shrugged and shared a glance with Jean, who did the same.
"I haven't seen her all day," she said, wiping tomato sauce from her mouth.
"Me neither," Kurt said around a mouthful of pizza. I should have been amused by the fact that he was holding his current slice with his tail (the better to protect his chosen pie with both hands) but even that didn't snap me out of my sour mood.
I cursed under my breath and leaned on the table, holding my chin in my hands.
"You think something's wrong?" Summers asked with a frown. "You don't look so good."
"I don't know. The visit from my Dad kind of got to me."
"Don't worry about it, man," Bobby said. "You need to lighten up. It's not like anyone got hurt, right?" I just stared at him until he raised both hands in surrender. "Right. I'll shut up now."
"You want to go out and look for her after we finish?" Summers asked. I shrugged in response.
"Sure."
"We'll find her, I'm sure. She's probably just at the mall or something," he said with that annoying smile of his.
The telephone rang, interrupting the conversation. I was secretly relieved. Summers was starting to do that knight-in-shining-armor act again and I wasn't sure how long I could keep from screaming. Thankfully, One-Eye was the closest to the hall. He stood up and dropped his napkin on the chair.
"Hello?" came his voice from the hall. "Yes, Officer, this is the Xavier Institute."
Officer? I looked up sharply, sharing a look with Kurt and Jean. All three of us leaned a little closer to the doorway, trying to listen in on the conversation. No one else noticed, I think, thanks to the dull roar of conversation at the rest of the table.
"Yeah, ok. Please put her on." There was a pause. "Wanda? This is Scott. What happened? You did what? Tell me you're kidding. Aw, man. All right, all right, calm down. We'll be right down there to pick you up. Hang on; let me give you a number." Another pause. "I don't know if you'll be able to reach him on a Sunday, but here it is." He read off a telephone number and I blinked. That sounded very familiar. I pulled my wallet out and flipped through the business cards. There it was. Why had he given her the telephone number for the Institute's lawyer? "We're on our way, ok? Just sit tight."
Summers strode back into the room and conversation died. Perfectly understandable, considering the look on his face. Either he'd just eaten an entire raw lemon or he'd been given some bad news. I was pretty sure which it would turn out to be, too.
"What is it, Scott?" Jean said in the sudden silence.
"Wanda's been arrested," he replied. My stomach flipped. Oh jeez.
"For what?" Hank asked from the head of the table.
"Assault and battery. She put Duncan into traction."
Jean and Kurt looked from Summers to me and I just knew that everyone else was doing the same thing. I fought down the rising blush that threatened to creep above my collar. My sister and I are very protective of one another, even if we don't particularly get along. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that she'd done it on my behalf.
Traction, eh? That's my twin sister for you. Never does anything halfway. It's all or nothing with Wanda. I tried not to smile as I imagined that great big goon in a body cast.
"Guess we'd better go get her, huh?" I said, fighting to keep my expression bland.
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To Be Continued. Reviews welcomed. (Hint, hint.)
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To My Reviewers:
jastreit: Nice to hear you're enjoying this. I do plan to update QSC eventually, but real life has somewhat cramped my time. 'The Long Road' is the only fanfic on which I feel able to concentrate at the moment. As soon as life settles down, I'll finish the other. If I may ask, what do you like about this story? And is there anything I could be doing better?