A/N ~ Twelve reviews for one chapter? ^_^ I can't really top the smiley for describing how I felt when I saw that. Lance's death got even more attention than Robyn's. However, as evidenced in this chapter, red herrings are no longer a feature when walking the fine line between life and death...
The Phantom; Please continue with your happy jig of evil joy. Or even your happy jug of evil joy. Hmmm... *Imagines nefarious milk jug* Oh the possibilities...
Lonley Poet; Thank you for the compliment. Here's some smelling salts for the fainting.
Witch-UK; Wanda... well, let's just see what happens next before we pack her off the Hades, shall we? :)
Krazy Xanadu; Pyro? Um... I'm assuming he's off in Australia somewhere (fear my geographical skillz!), so he might be alive. Or he might not. In other news, characterisation - huzzah!
UnknownSource; Wolfsbane will indeed be making further appearances, and will indeed be taking the psychotic route around the dream pool. Hang on a second... *reads post again* Kill Dazzler? You're worse than me for character deaths!
Risa; *Stands up a la AA meeting* Hello. My name's Scribbler, and I'm evil. ^_^ Yes, Pietro does seem a few fruits short of a basket at the moment, doesn't he? 'Did he not think dropping off a girl at a mental institution might make her a tad bit screwy? Quicksilver? Slow?... Now I know it's possible.' I so very much love you for saying that. It quite literally made me fall out of my chair laughing.
Amarth Obstreperous; Traumatised people all over the shop. Hee hee...
Yma; See, I told you Magneto has fans. Especially Magneto-with-a-heart, of which you are fic-queen.
Remedy=Chill; You know, I wish I'd thought of verbalizing my argument for Lance's death that way. Blindsiding. How unfortunately true. And thanks for the email. I'd have replied, but Hotmail hates me at the moment. I think most of my mail is ending up in Taiwan somewhere...
Ambrosia; See above. Death blindsides us. We seldom see it coming. Hence, Lance. Pertaining to his prophecy, I'll paraphrase what I said at time of writing when asked the same thing. He did fulfil his role if you take his centre and sense to be the life he set up with Kitty, and produced in Hope. Ariel is pretty much expending all energy just keeping that huge water wall standing upright, so he's all tuckered out and on the verge of collapsing - not exactly rescuer material. Wanda's powers will soon prove themselves as not all they're cracked up to be. 'Marie' is indeed from the movieverse, but as far as I know that's the only 'other' name ever given to Rogue in *any* incarnation of the X-Men. Raven is, according to the official Marvel site, Mystique's given name, also. On a lighter note, yay, Buffy!
Charmed1s; Thanks for the praise. ^_^
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Twenty-sixth Fragment ~ Falling
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Pietro stared. His mouth flapped open and shut, but somehow no words were forthcoming.
Wanda floated, a smug smile etching her face. She let her arm drop, but kept gazing skywards, at the spot so recently vacated by her brother's companions. Gradually her smile widened into a proper grin, and she chuckled once before looking down at him with a satisfied nod.
"All gone. Bye-bye birdie."
Pietro's eyes grated her way, and his jaw snapped shut with an almost audible clack. "Why did you do that?" he asked in a whisper. "They hadn't done anything to you. You might've killed them, and for what?"
"They were interfering," Wanda replied, patently unconcerned. "And if any more of your little buddies try to be meddlesome, they'll get the same. Except," she pressed a finger to her chin, "they aren't really your buddies, are they? Nope. No siree. Little lackey Pie-Pie don't got no friends. Stepping stones, yes. People he uses, most definitely. But friends? Nu-uh. He's too concerned with himself, and how he can please Daddy next to have real friends. People are worthless to him unless they're useful; unless they fit into his plans. Like me. I never fit into your world, did I Speedy? I was an inconvenience, so I had to go bye-de-bye. Just another rock on your way to the top, huh?"
Pietro felt an inexplicable lump rise in his gullet, and forced it down again. "Is that what you really think?"
"It's not about what I *think*. It's about what's true. You're too wrapped up in your own little world to think of people as more than commodities. You know your trouble?" She levitated backwards and twirled her arms in a dance to music only she could hear. "You're selfish. Arrogant. Think you're better than everyone. So it's my job to take you down a peg or two. That, and settle a couple of scores of my own. Believe me, against you, I got plenty."
Pietro's eyes narrowed. "You're not the Wanda I knew."
"Well, *duh*." She rolled her eyes and rammed her fists against her hips. "Ten years in a mental institution, followed by four as a stinking mutie guinea pig in a research lab can affect a person, y'know."
"Research lab?" Pietro's voice faltered a little. "What do you mean...?"
"Slice n' dice, n' splice; s'not nice," she warbled. "I didn't even know what mutants were properly, before the orderlies told me I was one. Never heard the word before. Sure, Daddio used to feed us that crap about being 'different', but he never used the name. He said we were 'special'. The medical man told me I was special, too, right before he cut me open. Slit, slit, slit, slit, right through my head."
She lifted a lock of bedraggled hair and pointed to an ugly purple scar almost identical to those Rogue wore.
"He saw my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams - everything about me. It's all in here, and he and his partners riffled through it time after time." She giggled, and began to sing; "Time after time. When you're lost and alone, then you will find me. Time after time. Time after time. Time after... You know, I never really liked that song. Pukey lyrics. So needlessly sentimental." She pulled a face, then smiled and clapped her hands. "Maudlin, that's what they are. Maudlin."
Pietro gawped. "So that's what... oh God. Wanda, I'm so sorry. I had no idea - "
"Now *there's* a big surprise. Pietro had no clue, yet again. Don't think much for yourself, do you?" She dropped to the asphalt and crouched beside him, pushing forward until her face was millimetres away from his and their noses were practically touching.
Pietro reeled back, but his arms were still pinned with her holding the rope, and he could do little but scuttle backwards on his rear, which got him exactly nowhere.
They stayed that way for a few seconds; the only sound around them that of rushing water. Faintly, Pietro thought he could hear a noise like someone crying, wailing like a banshee or broken soul. He wondered whom it could be - what had happened to cause such unsolicited misery?
Perhaps he would've listened more if Wanda's eyes hadn't held him so entirely. They were a lot darker than he remembered, but lit with the inner light of madness, and when she blinked they flashed dangerously at him. It was like looking into a mirror of his old self, before Kurt had found him, and he resisted the urge to look away in revulsion.
"For years I survived in that place. It wasn't living; it was just existing. They put numbers on my arm; see?" She pulled back and thrust her wrist at him, revealing a line of tattooed digits embed into the skin like a brand. "I used to look at them, and they'd dance for me. Just for me. They'd show me pictures of things I wanted to see. They'd show me *his* death, how he slowly and agonizingly died at my hands. I wanted to wring his neck, hear his spine crunch and shatter under my fingers, and they gave that to me. I wanted to see his blood, wanted to see the look in his eyes when he realised that the daughter he'd so callously tossed aside was back. She was back, and she was *so* pissed with her *Daddy*."
Pietro wet his lips. "Wanda - "
Her tone changed abruptly, and became wistful. "But it wasn't to be..." Her gaze fixed on some unknown spot just above his head, somewhere in the middle distance.
Then, anruptly, she shot backwards; mismatched feet dragging as some invisible force suspended her above the floor again. She seemed to prefer the air to the ground, and undulated up and down as she spoke, a hand stroking through an imaginary beard in ostensible thought.
"No, *he* was taken away before I got out. Vanished into thin air - *poof*!" She smacked her palms together, and then held them out, demonstrating their emptiness. "Did the plague get him? Did the Hunters? Did other mutants, sick of his preaching? I don't know. He was always a slippery one, even when we were kids. Tricky, tricky, tricky, trickier, trickiest! Slippery as a snake, sneaking away and fobbing his children off with excuses about how he was 'making them better' when he stuck them with needles and fed them more drugs than a pusher sells in a year. Daddy Dearest may well be dead now, but it's the same either way. Dead or alive, I can't get at him. I'm not allowed to dish out his punishment. Unfair, huh? To get so far, and then be pipped at the post by someone else. So, Pie-Pie, it looks like you get a double helping." She grinned expansively, rubbing her hands together in happiness. "Feel lucky? Twice the comeuppance in one personal package. Now that *is* privileged."
A cold knot of fear manifested in Pietro's gut like a block of ice, and he squirmed at the bonds that held him. "Wanda, please... I didn't mean to... God, I never knew. What can I say to you? I-I-I'm sorry," he finished lamely.
"You're *sorry*." Wanda blinked, then threw back her head and laughed. "He's sorry. Hey, Water Baby, d'ya hear that? He's *sorry*. Well, that makes it all okay then, doesn't it. One word and we're all back to the way we were. Like a magical spell. Abracadabra!"
She looked at her hands, flexing her fingers and turning them over critically.
"Hmmm, didn't work. I'm still exactly the same. Everything's still the same. Let's try *your* magic word now, shall we? You're *sorry*. Sorry. He's sorry. He's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry." She started to shake her head from side to side, speeding up until her words tripped over themselves and merged into a meaningless hum. "He's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry, sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry!"
Wanda shrieked, then flew towards her brother and slapped him so hard he tumbled backwards again, bouncing his skull against the asphalt.
"Sorry doesn't cut it, Pietro!" she roared. "You and Father put me through hell, and no itsy bitsy, meaningless apologies are *ever* gonna put that right. You sold me, and now I've come back to collect the debt I'm owed!"
"Wanda," Pietro started, but was cut off by a punch to the jaw.
"Shut up!" she screeched. "Shut up! I don't wanna hear any more of your lies! I'm sick of talking! Words don't solve anything!" She yanked the energy rope, dragging him across the ground towards her and landing a sneaker in his face the moment he got in range. "Nothing. They didn't stop the war on mutants, did they? They didn't stop the virus? They're meaningless. They mean nothing! You hear me? *Nothing*! *NOTHING*!"
Pietro reeled as her sudden anger translated itself into raw energy, which coursed down the rope and into him with all the force of an electric shock. He couldn't help himself from crying out, though he bit his lip until blood flowed. Savage energy coursed through his veins, designed to hurt beyond belief but let him remain conscious so as to endure the pain. It was too much - just too much. He couldn't bear it.
And Pietro screamed.
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Kurt's head jerked up, as did Logan's. Both of them possessed exceptional hearing, and they exchanged a meaningful glance.
"What?" asked Jamie, who was closest. "What are you two looking like that for?"
"It's Pietro," Kurt replied simply.
Logan grunted. "Well, at least the kid's still alive."
"Jawohl, but for how much longer?" Kurt's golden eyes were harsh, made even more soulful than usual by the harrowing sight still laid out before them. "He's in pain - you can hear him just as well as I can. We have to *do* something!"
"Yeah, but," Jamie's volume dropped, and he muttered, "look what happened the last time we did that. Great success, huh?"
Kurt rounded on him, bristling, and looking for all the world like an enraged blue demon. His fangs flashed white, and his tail lashed the air angrily, as grief made his rage that little bit sharper, and he spat, "I'm not leaving any one of us to die alone like that. I don't know how things work where you're from, Verhärtetes [1], but I'd rather die than forsake another member of my family!" Flecks of saliva sprayed from his mouth, and it looked quite possible that he would leap at the smaller boy had Logan not reached up and place a restraining hand on his arm.
"Elf," he said firmly. Raven's head was cradled in his lap, so he was twisted around to speak with the younger mutant. "Gettin' angry won't solve nuthin'. Now's the time for you to use your brain instead of your muscle, and that involves keepin' a clear head. So calm down, and let's try to figure out what we're gonna do next."
Rogue readjusted Robyn in her arms and gave a savage sigh. "Ach, if only we could *see* what the hell's happenin' on the other side of that there wall." She nodded towards the screen of water and scowled at it. "P'raps then we could figure out what we're supposed to do to help Pietro without - " She caught herself just in time. She'd been about to say 'without getting ourselves killed', but a chance glimpse of Kitty's tearstained face, glasses askew and streaked with grime, made her bite her tongue so hard that the coppery tang of blood spread throughout the inside of her mouth.
Kurt blinked, and then snapped his fingers. "*See*! Of course!" He whirled around and started to gallop on all fours back towards the bus.
Rogue looked at those left who would meet her eyes. "Excuse me?"
Jamie shrugged indifferently. "Don't ask me. I don't speak elf."
Of all of them, the scout seemed the least affected by what had happened. Most of the Bayville crew put it down to the fact that he hadn't know either Lance or Raven long enough to bother himself with what had happened to them, but in truth it was just a quirk of his personality that he remained rather detached from scenarios such as these. He'd been 'born' into a battle of death and violence, and his first few memories were of being struck repeatedly by a fist and then left for dead, before Grasshopper came and found him and took him and the other separated clones to Mutie Town. Jamie was a survivor, and it was at times like this that the ability was shown in all its cruel and apathetic light.
Kurt reappeared a few moments later, clutching what looked like a pair of binoculars in either hand. Evidently he'd retrieved those Pietro dropped when he first ran off, and been to the jeep to fetch another set as well.
"All very nice, Kurt," said Rogue, "but they ain't gonna see through that. The water's too foamy, and movin' too fast for - "
"Nein, these aren't normal binoculars. Forge made them. These inventions are *designed* for things like this. Don't ask me how they work, but trust me, they can see through this wall. They did earlier, right Herr Logan?"
In answer, the gruff mutant held out his hands for a pair, and then brought the eye-lenses to his eyes.
A hissed curse shot past his lips the moment they refocused enough to show exactly what was going on beyond the water-wall, and Kurt hastily placed the second pair to his own face so as to put images with the sounds he could hear over the roar of surging water.
"Scheisse!"
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Ariel's legs shook so much that he had to sit, so he fell to the ground. He had no doubt of what would happen if he failed, so he put all of his effort into maintaining the wall.
So tired.
So thirsty.
Would she notice if he sneaked a ball of water to refresh his gills and quench his thirst? She seemed so focussed on the albino, now...
Carefully, slowly, he pulled a ball of water from the wall.
Would she notice?
He prayed she wouldn't.
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Kitty felt her way into the bus, and gently buckled Hope into her safety seat. Then she felt along the other seats until she found a feathered, scaly child. Kitty shook her.
"Daisy? Daisy, I need you to wake up."
"Mnh?" Daisy shifted a little. "...'m tired..."
"I know, honey, but I need you. I... I need you to use your powers."
Daisy moved, sitting up. "Huh?"
"I need you to do what you did for Robyn," Kitty explained. "It's Lance. He... he fell... I need you to fix it."
Daisy screwed up her face, glancing out of the window to where the others were clustered. "I can't," she said after a moment, as if assessing the situation from afar. "Robyn wasn't properly dead yet. Kurti kept her cold enough that the little girl could help her. I - I can't feel anyone who can bring back someone who's all-the-way dead."
Instantly, Kitty broke down into fresh helpless paroxysms of weeping. "No. No. No..."
Daisy petted her hair and fixed her sunglasses and hugged her tight as her feeble strength would allow. "I'm sorry I can't fix it. There's just some things that stay broken... I'm sorry..."
But sorry wasn't a lot of help to her, right then.
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Pietro flew a good three feet through the air, courtesy of Wanda's left foot. However, rather than crashing down, as Newton's Law demanded he should, he instead twanged back as per the wishes of her energy rope. His face thus made contact once again with her fist, and he crumpled into a gasping heap at her feet, a small spatter of blood leaking from his nose.
Wanda wasted no time in waiting for him to get up. For one of the few times since their battle (the word being used in its loosest sense, since it more resembled an all-out beating on her part), she came to earth, blue-green energy fizzling angrily around her like an angelic aura gone terribly awry.
Leaning on one leg, she planted her other foot squarely in Pietro's chest with enough force to send him sprawling backwards, his head hitting the ground with a solid thunk.
He blinked up at the sky, vision momentarily invaded by thousands of rushing stars that were quickly driven out by the burst of pain emanating from the back of his skull.
Dazed, he didn't move even when Wanda landed, stamping a foot either side of his head so close that several white hairs tore loose under her soles. She leaned down, grabbing his shirt where lapels would have been. There was the faintest sensation of freedom in his arms as her attention became unable to deal with maintaining the rope as well as beating the living shit out of him. however, he barely noticed the newfound autonomy as Wanda rained blows down upon his face. Twisting, he tried to avoid her fist, but it was useless, and soon he was bloody and had the beginnings of several ugly bruises.
He tried to get up, but a sneaker pressed against his gut soon cured him of that particular alleyway. The strikes became harder, faster, each one punctuated by a furious shout that ripped from Wanda's lips almost painfully. She punched repeatedly, rhythmically, heedless of her own cut and bleeding knuckles. Years of neglect and mistreatment fuelled her rage, and she unleashed it upon her hapless sibling until her arms hurt and his head was a mask of blood.
Gasping, Wanda finally drew back, letting Pietro flop back onto the asphalt. She kept one foot pinned to his midriff and surveyed her handiwork with morbid satisfaction. His once-beautiful features were caked in thick, viscous red, and one eye was already beginning to swell up. His hair was still set into that ridiculous flyaway shape, but now a few strands straggled loose, and here and there were spots of his own blood to ruin and pollute the pastiness. From the neck up he was a mess, and southwards wasn't much better, either.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she let it get no further. Instead, her features opted for a more puzzled look. She felt good about doing this. Every punch represented a minute spent in captivity, and every kick a needle inserted into her arm, or a new batch of 'anti-mutation' drugs forced into her via an unwelcome intravenous. She was exacting revenge for her lost childhood, her lost life - everything that had been taken from her and crushed underfoot by those too insensitive to care.
So why wasn't she enjoying it?
Her spirits remained routinely low, despite the liberation she should have been feeling. She'd dreamed of this moment, run it through her fevered mind thousands of times and enjoying every single theoretical moment. Now, here she was, Pietro's blood on her hands, his raggedly breathing form open and unprotected at her feet. She should be feeling... something. Anything.
Yet her chest remained tight, concerned more with what she *ought* to be feeling, and the lack thereof than anything else.
Pietro moaned, voice low and sputtering in his throat as the sound forced its way past various bodily obstructions. He coughed, felt something running down his chin, and unsqueezed what he could of his eyes.
Wanda's head snapped up at the sound, and on impulse she stepped sideways of him, drawing her foot back and then swinging it forward again. It drove deep into his undefended side, turning him over and eliciting a choked howl of fresh pain that was abruptly cut off as he rolled. Then he lay, panting, his face pressed against the ground and making no move to rise again.
Wanda frowned and stalked over. Dropping to one knee, she grasped the back of his skull and pulled him up. Pietro blinked at her, still conscious, and at the sight she let out a cry of anger, followed in short order by yet another punch that broke his nose with a sickening crack.
He'd had a chance to escape, to make this more interesting, and he'd muffed it. No matter what her powers, she couldn't keep up with his speed, and in those few seconds between her foot making contact and grabbing his head, he could've made a break for it, or at least tried to stop her.
Yet he'd done nothing. He hadn't even squirmed; instead letting her hurt him more without even an attempt at comeback.
Wanda's puzzlement increased, and with it, so did her fury. One was kindling for the other, and her eyes flashed with unspent energy as she hauled Pietro's limp form upwards and forcibly threw him through the air.
This time he didn't snap back, but a hex-bolt hit him before he had chance to meet with the floor, and it sent him spinning a few more metres. He landed awkwardly, but managed to turn it into a passable roll that left all limbs intact, at least. A few cuts opened up a bit further, and he winced as he achieved more scratches and grazes, but otherwise simply stood up, chest heaving as she approached him again.
Wanda watched Pietro through slitted eyes. He met her gaze stoically, chips of blue telling her exactly nothing. It was like he didn't care what she saw, and that made a screen around his thoughts through sheer apathy.
She sucked in a lungful of air between her teeth, and then threw out her hand, concentrating. Snakes of blue-green issued from her fingertips, ensnaring him again and lifting him from the ground to float at eyelevel with her. His head flopped forward, like his neck was a wet piece of noodle, too weak to support it.
"Why aren't you fighting me?" she asked through gritted teeth. When no answer was forthcoming, she ordered, "Speak!"
It was a long moment before he replied, and even then the response was pithy and insufficient to her increasingly hectic mind. "Because I don't want to."
Wanda sniffed, throwing back her head and staring down her nose at him. "Stupid. You know I'm going to kill you in the end. Not fighting back just means the pain lasts longer until I do."
"I don't care."
"Why? Why don't you care? You're stupid. An idiot, hanging on by a thread. Do you think that by talking with me I'm going to go any easier on you? Is that what you think, huh?"
"No."
"Then what? Why be so accepting? You're not like that - I know. I know you, Pietro. I know you up here," she tapped the side of her head. "You're a fighter. Always have been. Kicking me in the womb. I was born with bruises, and since then you've only given me more. Only they were on the inside, not the outside. You like hurting other people, and hate it when the hurt's turned against you. You fight against it; driving it away with everything you have each time. You think you're unconquerable. So why? *Why*?"
He said nothing, eyes hidden by a thatch of semi-white hair.
"Answer me!" she demanded, voice rising a notch and telltale, dazzling wisps flickering around her clenching and unclenching fists. "*Answer me*! *ANSWER ME*!"
"Because you're my sister."
The shortness of the response took her aback a little, and her concentration faltered just enough for him to fall a few inches, before she recomposed herself and dragged him back up again. Tendrils of her power wrapped themselves around his wrists, securing him further without her having to direct them.
"You're lying," she spat, and mentally tightened the bonds so that they dug into his yielding flesh.
Pietro grimaced, but made no other acknowledgment of the move. "I'm not. For one of the first times in my life, I'm not lying. Wanda, you're my sister. Whatever you think of me and what I've done, you were always that first, to me." His words speeded up, tumbling uncalled from his lips like an unbridled brook over pebbles.
Wanda snarled. "Liar. I was never anything more than an inconvenience to you. Never!"
"You're wrong. I never wanted to see you get hurt, Wanda. And I still don't. You can say what you want about me, but that much is true. You might not believe it, but *I* know that I'm telling the truth, and if I'm gonna die soon then that's all that really matters." He shook his head. "*I* know the truth. I truly never wanted anything bad to happen to you, even when we were kids. You were my big sister; you used to protect me, and I wanted to return the favour when you got sick. I never dreamed things would go as wrong as they have. It... it wasn't meant to be this way - "
"Nice speech, but it is. It *is* this way, and nothing you or I can do will change that. Words don't change the world."
He nodded, slowly. "Even through all that's happened to screw up our lives, Wanda, I still don't wanna ever see you hurt. That's why I won't fight you. You can kill me right now, or later if you want, but I promise you this much. I won't ever raise a finger against you. Not after... what I did to you before. What happened to you... That's a promise."
For a moment, Wanda's eyes wavered. Her lids pulled back, and there was a spark of something completely alien to their stark, bleak environment.
Fear.
Her hand twitched at his announcement, and her mouth moved to speak, but nothing came out. She wanted to revile his declaration; to call him a liar and have done with it. That was, after all, exactly what he was, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Something reached out to her. Something tentative. It edged about the fringes of her consciousness, padding around her mind until finally it found a crack and slipped in, probing forward through her confused and muddled thoughts. She tried to push it away, but it was insistent, and she found that she didn't actually want it to leave. There was something tantalisingly familiar about it; yet totally alien.
Twin-bond?
It touched her psyche briefly, ethereal fingers lightly brushing her mind, and there was an explosion of colour.
[A small child, blonde and with dancing blue eyes. He holds a soccer ball in his hands, and tosses it forward, laughing. She kicks it back and he runs after it with her following, laughing all the while]
[Crying. He's crying. She moves to his side and hugs his shoulders, wiping the tears away, doing her best to comfort him. He buries his face into her and they rock together in silence. She wants to comfort him, but he won't tell her what's wrong. He's too proud and stubborn for that.]
[A large boy, squat but broad-shouldered. She stands before him, squaring off against his bulk. It's ridiculous; she'll never win a fight against him. But the quivering figure behind her makes her stay her ground. She has to defend him against this bully. That's what big sisters do - even if they are big sisters only by seven minutes.]
[Blue eyes stare up at her with adoration, as the band-aid is carefully applied to her knee and cheek. He grasps her hand, reiterating yet again how she fought, and how proud of her he is. Her face glows red, but she's pleased. It's nice to see him smile. He tells her of how, when they're all grown up, he's going to take care of her, just like she's taking care of him now. She just smiles and riffles his hair. Grown up is a long time away. There's no point in making plans just yet.]
Wanda gasped, hand flying to herself but wavering as to whether they should be clutching at her chest or skull. She emitted a low groan and plumped for her head, clapping her hands over her ears and drawing the rest of her body up into a foetal position. She rocked back and forth, like a puppet with one of its strings broken.
Pietro looked up at her, but yelped as the bonds imprisoning him abruptly dissolved, and he fell to the earth below. Luckily for him, they were no more than a few feet up, and he landed relatively easily, considering.
Looking up, he saw his sister shaking her head, muttering something to herself.
"Not true. It's not true," she babbled. "Can't be true. Didn't remember it before. Mind-trick. Yeah, that's all it is. Another mind-game, like they used to play in the lab. But... but this isn't like those. No hurting, no electric shock, no collar. Could... could it be? True? But why? Why? Why didn't I remember that before? So clear now. Why didn't I... no, no, no, no, *no*! Not right, not right. Supposed to be killing him. He hurt me, locked me away. Never saw the light for years, and all because of him. My own brother... own brother... Brother? Promises. So many broken promises. Which is the right one? Which? Words... churning inside my head, confusing me... they all just want to confuse me, that's it. That all they're in here for. Leave me alone! Please, just leave me *alone*! Don't wanna listen anymore. Leave me *ALONE*!"
Unexpectedly, her entire body suddenly convulsed, and she tossed back her head with something bordering a feral yell. It ruptured from her throat, more powerful than a clap of thunder and twice as intimidating. Pietro shrank back, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a small golden figure - undoubtedly the 'Water Baby' she'd mentioned earlier - do the same from a sitting position.
Wanda trembled openly, as if she'd been struck by lightning and was being fried from the inside out. Her limbs stretched away from her body, tugging in all different directions, and her fingers splayed so far it was a wonder the skin between them didn't break with the strain. Her chest thrust forward as another agonising scream cleaved into the air.
Pietro dashed forward as best he could, calling up to her. "Wanda! Wan - "
A burst of blue-green knocked him back. It hadn't been aimed, and so created a small crater in the tarmac in front of him, rather than spear him through as it would've done had he been the real target.
More daggers of power followed suit, crackling into the air and making Wanda's unkempt hair stand out from her head in curious peaks and troughs. She opened her eyes, and around them whickered flits of emerald fire.
Pietro suddenly remembered an incident a long time ago, not long before Wanda had been removed to the mental institution. An image of a small girl, screaming and holding her head in pain, as bolts of unwanted and uncontrollable green flame smashed up a room around her briefly crossed his mind; as did his father's lugubrious voice saying that she was 'having an episode'. That had always been the way he phrased it, like she was just throwing a tantrum and could turn it off whenever she wanted.
But Pietro had always felt her pain. Some small part of him had known it was more than just an 'episode'.
Now his eyes widened, and he shouted to her, desperate. "Wanda! *Wanda*!"
She wasn't smiling this time, and didn't even open her fists to let the energy flow out of them. It came forth of its own bidding, slamming into the ground and shattering it in a flurry of broken pieces that Pietro had to shield his face from. Wanda seemed less than pleased with her own doing, now. More terrified at what was happening.
This time, it was she who screamed.
*******************
To Be Continued...
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[1] Callous/heartless one!
The Phantom; Please continue with your happy jig of evil joy. Or even your happy jug of evil joy. Hmmm... *Imagines nefarious milk jug* Oh the possibilities...
Lonley Poet; Thank you for the compliment. Here's some smelling salts for the fainting.
Witch-UK; Wanda... well, let's just see what happens next before we pack her off the Hades, shall we? :)
Krazy Xanadu; Pyro? Um... I'm assuming he's off in Australia somewhere (fear my geographical skillz!), so he might be alive. Or he might not. In other news, characterisation - huzzah!
UnknownSource; Wolfsbane will indeed be making further appearances, and will indeed be taking the psychotic route around the dream pool. Hang on a second... *reads post again* Kill Dazzler? You're worse than me for character deaths!
Risa; *Stands up a la AA meeting* Hello. My name's Scribbler, and I'm evil. ^_^ Yes, Pietro does seem a few fruits short of a basket at the moment, doesn't he? 'Did he not think dropping off a girl at a mental institution might make her a tad bit screwy? Quicksilver? Slow?... Now I know it's possible.' I so very much love you for saying that. It quite literally made me fall out of my chair laughing.
Amarth Obstreperous; Traumatised people all over the shop. Hee hee...
Yma; See, I told you Magneto has fans. Especially Magneto-with-a-heart, of which you are fic-queen.
Remedy=Chill; You know, I wish I'd thought of verbalizing my argument for Lance's death that way. Blindsiding. How unfortunately true. And thanks for the email. I'd have replied, but Hotmail hates me at the moment. I think most of my mail is ending up in Taiwan somewhere...
Ambrosia; See above. Death blindsides us. We seldom see it coming. Hence, Lance. Pertaining to his prophecy, I'll paraphrase what I said at time of writing when asked the same thing. He did fulfil his role if you take his centre and sense to be the life he set up with Kitty, and produced in Hope. Ariel is pretty much expending all energy just keeping that huge water wall standing upright, so he's all tuckered out and on the verge of collapsing - not exactly rescuer material. Wanda's powers will soon prove themselves as not all they're cracked up to be. 'Marie' is indeed from the movieverse, but as far as I know that's the only 'other' name ever given to Rogue in *any* incarnation of the X-Men. Raven is, according to the official Marvel site, Mystique's given name, also. On a lighter note, yay, Buffy!
Charmed1s; Thanks for the praise. ^_^
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Twenty-sixth Fragment ~ Falling
*******************
Pietro stared. His mouth flapped open and shut, but somehow no words were forthcoming.
Wanda floated, a smug smile etching her face. She let her arm drop, but kept gazing skywards, at the spot so recently vacated by her brother's companions. Gradually her smile widened into a proper grin, and she chuckled once before looking down at him with a satisfied nod.
"All gone. Bye-bye birdie."
Pietro's eyes grated her way, and his jaw snapped shut with an almost audible clack. "Why did you do that?" he asked in a whisper. "They hadn't done anything to you. You might've killed them, and for what?"
"They were interfering," Wanda replied, patently unconcerned. "And if any more of your little buddies try to be meddlesome, they'll get the same. Except," she pressed a finger to her chin, "they aren't really your buddies, are they? Nope. No siree. Little lackey Pie-Pie don't got no friends. Stepping stones, yes. People he uses, most definitely. But friends? Nu-uh. He's too concerned with himself, and how he can please Daddy next to have real friends. People are worthless to him unless they're useful; unless they fit into his plans. Like me. I never fit into your world, did I Speedy? I was an inconvenience, so I had to go bye-de-bye. Just another rock on your way to the top, huh?"
Pietro felt an inexplicable lump rise in his gullet, and forced it down again. "Is that what you really think?"
"It's not about what I *think*. It's about what's true. You're too wrapped up in your own little world to think of people as more than commodities. You know your trouble?" She levitated backwards and twirled her arms in a dance to music only she could hear. "You're selfish. Arrogant. Think you're better than everyone. So it's my job to take you down a peg or two. That, and settle a couple of scores of my own. Believe me, against you, I got plenty."
Pietro's eyes narrowed. "You're not the Wanda I knew."
"Well, *duh*." She rolled her eyes and rammed her fists against her hips. "Ten years in a mental institution, followed by four as a stinking mutie guinea pig in a research lab can affect a person, y'know."
"Research lab?" Pietro's voice faltered a little. "What do you mean...?"
"Slice n' dice, n' splice; s'not nice," she warbled. "I didn't even know what mutants were properly, before the orderlies told me I was one. Never heard the word before. Sure, Daddio used to feed us that crap about being 'different', but he never used the name. He said we were 'special'. The medical man told me I was special, too, right before he cut me open. Slit, slit, slit, slit, right through my head."
She lifted a lock of bedraggled hair and pointed to an ugly purple scar almost identical to those Rogue wore.
"He saw my thoughts, my hopes, my dreams - everything about me. It's all in here, and he and his partners riffled through it time after time." She giggled, and began to sing; "Time after time. When you're lost and alone, then you will find me. Time after time. Time after time. Time after... You know, I never really liked that song. Pukey lyrics. So needlessly sentimental." She pulled a face, then smiled and clapped her hands. "Maudlin, that's what they are. Maudlin."
Pietro gawped. "So that's what... oh God. Wanda, I'm so sorry. I had no idea - "
"Now *there's* a big surprise. Pietro had no clue, yet again. Don't think much for yourself, do you?" She dropped to the asphalt and crouched beside him, pushing forward until her face was millimetres away from his and their noses were practically touching.
Pietro reeled back, but his arms were still pinned with her holding the rope, and he could do little but scuttle backwards on his rear, which got him exactly nowhere.
They stayed that way for a few seconds; the only sound around them that of rushing water. Faintly, Pietro thought he could hear a noise like someone crying, wailing like a banshee or broken soul. He wondered whom it could be - what had happened to cause such unsolicited misery?
Perhaps he would've listened more if Wanda's eyes hadn't held him so entirely. They were a lot darker than he remembered, but lit with the inner light of madness, and when she blinked they flashed dangerously at him. It was like looking into a mirror of his old self, before Kurt had found him, and he resisted the urge to look away in revulsion.
"For years I survived in that place. It wasn't living; it was just existing. They put numbers on my arm; see?" She pulled back and thrust her wrist at him, revealing a line of tattooed digits embed into the skin like a brand. "I used to look at them, and they'd dance for me. Just for me. They'd show me pictures of things I wanted to see. They'd show me *his* death, how he slowly and agonizingly died at my hands. I wanted to wring his neck, hear his spine crunch and shatter under my fingers, and they gave that to me. I wanted to see his blood, wanted to see the look in his eyes when he realised that the daughter he'd so callously tossed aside was back. She was back, and she was *so* pissed with her *Daddy*."
Pietro wet his lips. "Wanda - "
Her tone changed abruptly, and became wistful. "But it wasn't to be..." Her gaze fixed on some unknown spot just above his head, somewhere in the middle distance.
Then, anruptly, she shot backwards; mismatched feet dragging as some invisible force suspended her above the floor again. She seemed to prefer the air to the ground, and undulated up and down as she spoke, a hand stroking through an imaginary beard in ostensible thought.
"No, *he* was taken away before I got out. Vanished into thin air - *poof*!" She smacked her palms together, and then held them out, demonstrating their emptiness. "Did the plague get him? Did the Hunters? Did other mutants, sick of his preaching? I don't know. He was always a slippery one, even when we were kids. Tricky, tricky, tricky, trickier, trickiest! Slippery as a snake, sneaking away and fobbing his children off with excuses about how he was 'making them better' when he stuck them with needles and fed them more drugs than a pusher sells in a year. Daddy Dearest may well be dead now, but it's the same either way. Dead or alive, I can't get at him. I'm not allowed to dish out his punishment. Unfair, huh? To get so far, and then be pipped at the post by someone else. So, Pie-Pie, it looks like you get a double helping." She grinned expansively, rubbing her hands together in happiness. "Feel lucky? Twice the comeuppance in one personal package. Now that *is* privileged."
A cold knot of fear manifested in Pietro's gut like a block of ice, and he squirmed at the bonds that held him. "Wanda, please... I didn't mean to... God, I never knew. What can I say to you? I-I-I'm sorry," he finished lamely.
"You're *sorry*." Wanda blinked, then threw back her head and laughed. "He's sorry. Hey, Water Baby, d'ya hear that? He's *sorry*. Well, that makes it all okay then, doesn't it. One word and we're all back to the way we were. Like a magical spell. Abracadabra!"
She looked at her hands, flexing her fingers and turning them over critically.
"Hmmm, didn't work. I'm still exactly the same. Everything's still the same. Let's try *your* magic word now, shall we? You're *sorry*. Sorry. He's sorry. He's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry, he's sorry." She started to shake her head from side to side, speeding up until her words tripped over themselves and merged into a meaningless hum. "He's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry he's sorry, sorrysorrysorrysorrysorry!"
Wanda shrieked, then flew towards her brother and slapped him so hard he tumbled backwards again, bouncing his skull against the asphalt.
"Sorry doesn't cut it, Pietro!" she roared. "You and Father put me through hell, and no itsy bitsy, meaningless apologies are *ever* gonna put that right. You sold me, and now I've come back to collect the debt I'm owed!"
"Wanda," Pietro started, but was cut off by a punch to the jaw.
"Shut up!" she screeched. "Shut up! I don't wanna hear any more of your lies! I'm sick of talking! Words don't solve anything!" She yanked the energy rope, dragging him across the ground towards her and landing a sneaker in his face the moment he got in range. "Nothing. They didn't stop the war on mutants, did they? They didn't stop the virus? They're meaningless. They mean nothing! You hear me? *Nothing*! *NOTHING*!"
Pietro reeled as her sudden anger translated itself into raw energy, which coursed down the rope and into him with all the force of an electric shock. He couldn't help himself from crying out, though he bit his lip until blood flowed. Savage energy coursed through his veins, designed to hurt beyond belief but let him remain conscious so as to endure the pain. It was too much - just too much. He couldn't bear it.
And Pietro screamed.
*******************
Kurt's head jerked up, as did Logan's. Both of them possessed exceptional hearing, and they exchanged a meaningful glance.
"What?" asked Jamie, who was closest. "What are you two looking like that for?"
"It's Pietro," Kurt replied simply.
Logan grunted. "Well, at least the kid's still alive."
"Jawohl, but for how much longer?" Kurt's golden eyes were harsh, made even more soulful than usual by the harrowing sight still laid out before them. "He's in pain - you can hear him just as well as I can. We have to *do* something!"
"Yeah, but," Jamie's volume dropped, and he muttered, "look what happened the last time we did that. Great success, huh?"
Kurt rounded on him, bristling, and looking for all the world like an enraged blue demon. His fangs flashed white, and his tail lashed the air angrily, as grief made his rage that little bit sharper, and he spat, "I'm not leaving any one of us to die alone like that. I don't know how things work where you're from, Verhärtetes [1], but I'd rather die than forsake another member of my family!" Flecks of saliva sprayed from his mouth, and it looked quite possible that he would leap at the smaller boy had Logan not reached up and place a restraining hand on his arm.
"Elf," he said firmly. Raven's head was cradled in his lap, so he was twisted around to speak with the younger mutant. "Gettin' angry won't solve nuthin'. Now's the time for you to use your brain instead of your muscle, and that involves keepin' a clear head. So calm down, and let's try to figure out what we're gonna do next."
Rogue readjusted Robyn in her arms and gave a savage sigh. "Ach, if only we could *see* what the hell's happenin' on the other side of that there wall." She nodded towards the screen of water and scowled at it. "P'raps then we could figure out what we're supposed to do to help Pietro without - " She caught herself just in time. She'd been about to say 'without getting ourselves killed', but a chance glimpse of Kitty's tearstained face, glasses askew and streaked with grime, made her bite her tongue so hard that the coppery tang of blood spread throughout the inside of her mouth.
Kurt blinked, and then snapped his fingers. "*See*! Of course!" He whirled around and started to gallop on all fours back towards the bus.
Rogue looked at those left who would meet her eyes. "Excuse me?"
Jamie shrugged indifferently. "Don't ask me. I don't speak elf."
Of all of them, the scout seemed the least affected by what had happened. Most of the Bayville crew put it down to the fact that he hadn't know either Lance or Raven long enough to bother himself with what had happened to them, but in truth it was just a quirk of his personality that he remained rather detached from scenarios such as these. He'd been 'born' into a battle of death and violence, and his first few memories were of being struck repeatedly by a fist and then left for dead, before Grasshopper came and found him and took him and the other separated clones to Mutie Town. Jamie was a survivor, and it was at times like this that the ability was shown in all its cruel and apathetic light.
Kurt reappeared a few moments later, clutching what looked like a pair of binoculars in either hand. Evidently he'd retrieved those Pietro dropped when he first ran off, and been to the jeep to fetch another set as well.
"All very nice, Kurt," said Rogue, "but they ain't gonna see through that. The water's too foamy, and movin' too fast for - "
"Nein, these aren't normal binoculars. Forge made them. These inventions are *designed* for things like this. Don't ask me how they work, but trust me, they can see through this wall. They did earlier, right Herr Logan?"
In answer, the gruff mutant held out his hands for a pair, and then brought the eye-lenses to his eyes.
A hissed curse shot past his lips the moment they refocused enough to show exactly what was going on beyond the water-wall, and Kurt hastily placed the second pair to his own face so as to put images with the sounds he could hear over the roar of surging water.
"Scheisse!"
*******************
Ariel's legs shook so much that he had to sit, so he fell to the ground. He had no doubt of what would happen if he failed, so he put all of his effort into maintaining the wall.
So tired.
So thirsty.
Would she notice if he sneaked a ball of water to refresh his gills and quench his thirst? She seemed so focussed on the albino, now...
Carefully, slowly, he pulled a ball of water from the wall.
Would she notice?
He prayed she wouldn't.
*******************
Kitty felt her way into the bus, and gently buckled Hope into her safety seat. Then she felt along the other seats until she found a feathered, scaly child. Kitty shook her.
"Daisy? Daisy, I need you to wake up."
"Mnh?" Daisy shifted a little. "...'m tired..."
"I know, honey, but I need you. I... I need you to use your powers."
Daisy moved, sitting up. "Huh?"
"I need you to do what you did for Robyn," Kitty explained. "It's Lance. He... he fell... I need you to fix it."
Daisy screwed up her face, glancing out of the window to where the others were clustered. "I can't," she said after a moment, as if assessing the situation from afar. "Robyn wasn't properly dead yet. Kurti kept her cold enough that the little girl could help her. I - I can't feel anyone who can bring back someone who's all-the-way dead."
Instantly, Kitty broke down into fresh helpless paroxysms of weeping. "No. No. No..."
Daisy petted her hair and fixed her sunglasses and hugged her tight as her feeble strength would allow. "I'm sorry I can't fix it. There's just some things that stay broken... I'm sorry..."
But sorry wasn't a lot of help to her, right then.
*******************
Pietro flew a good three feet through the air, courtesy of Wanda's left foot. However, rather than crashing down, as Newton's Law demanded he should, he instead twanged back as per the wishes of her energy rope. His face thus made contact once again with her fist, and he crumpled into a gasping heap at her feet, a small spatter of blood leaking from his nose.
Wanda wasted no time in waiting for him to get up. For one of the few times since their battle (the word being used in its loosest sense, since it more resembled an all-out beating on her part), she came to earth, blue-green energy fizzling angrily around her like an angelic aura gone terribly awry.
Leaning on one leg, she planted her other foot squarely in Pietro's chest with enough force to send him sprawling backwards, his head hitting the ground with a solid thunk.
He blinked up at the sky, vision momentarily invaded by thousands of rushing stars that were quickly driven out by the burst of pain emanating from the back of his skull.
Dazed, he didn't move even when Wanda landed, stamping a foot either side of his head so close that several white hairs tore loose under her soles. She leaned down, grabbing his shirt where lapels would have been. There was the faintest sensation of freedom in his arms as her attention became unable to deal with maintaining the rope as well as beating the living shit out of him. however, he barely noticed the newfound autonomy as Wanda rained blows down upon his face. Twisting, he tried to avoid her fist, but it was useless, and soon he was bloody and had the beginnings of several ugly bruises.
He tried to get up, but a sneaker pressed against his gut soon cured him of that particular alleyway. The strikes became harder, faster, each one punctuated by a furious shout that ripped from Wanda's lips almost painfully. She punched repeatedly, rhythmically, heedless of her own cut and bleeding knuckles. Years of neglect and mistreatment fuelled her rage, and she unleashed it upon her hapless sibling until her arms hurt and his head was a mask of blood.
Gasping, Wanda finally drew back, letting Pietro flop back onto the asphalt. She kept one foot pinned to his midriff and surveyed her handiwork with morbid satisfaction. His once-beautiful features were caked in thick, viscous red, and one eye was already beginning to swell up. His hair was still set into that ridiculous flyaway shape, but now a few strands straggled loose, and here and there were spots of his own blood to ruin and pollute the pastiness. From the neck up he was a mess, and southwards wasn't much better, either.
A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, but she let it get no further. Instead, her features opted for a more puzzled look. She felt good about doing this. Every punch represented a minute spent in captivity, and every kick a needle inserted into her arm, or a new batch of 'anti-mutation' drugs forced into her via an unwelcome intravenous. She was exacting revenge for her lost childhood, her lost life - everything that had been taken from her and crushed underfoot by those too insensitive to care.
So why wasn't she enjoying it?
Her spirits remained routinely low, despite the liberation she should have been feeling. She'd dreamed of this moment, run it through her fevered mind thousands of times and enjoying every single theoretical moment. Now, here she was, Pietro's blood on her hands, his raggedly breathing form open and unprotected at her feet. She should be feeling... something. Anything.
Yet her chest remained tight, concerned more with what she *ought* to be feeling, and the lack thereof than anything else.
Pietro moaned, voice low and sputtering in his throat as the sound forced its way past various bodily obstructions. He coughed, felt something running down his chin, and unsqueezed what he could of his eyes.
Wanda's head snapped up at the sound, and on impulse she stepped sideways of him, drawing her foot back and then swinging it forward again. It drove deep into his undefended side, turning him over and eliciting a choked howl of fresh pain that was abruptly cut off as he rolled. Then he lay, panting, his face pressed against the ground and making no move to rise again.
Wanda frowned and stalked over. Dropping to one knee, she grasped the back of his skull and pulled him up. Pietro blinked at her, still conscious, and at the sight she let out a cry of anger, followed in short order by yet another punch that broke his nose with a sickening crack.
He'd had a chance to escape, to make this more interesting, and he'd muffed it. No matter what her powers, she couldn't keep up with his speed, and in those few seconds between her foot making contact and grabbing his head, he could've made a break for it, or at least tried to stop her.
Yet he'd done nothing. He hadn't even squirmed; instead letting her hurt him more without even an attempt at comeback.
Wanda's puzzlement increased, and with it, so did her fury. One was kindling for the other, and her eyes flashed with unspent energy as she hauled Pietro's limp form upwards and forcibly threw him through the air.
This time he didn't snap back, but a hex-bolt hit him before he had chance to meet with the floor, and it sent him spinning a few more metres. He landed awkwardly, but managed to turn it into a passable roll that left all limbs intact, at least. A few cuts opened up a bit further, and he winced as he achieved more scratches and grazes, but otherwise simply stood up, chest heaving as she approached him again.
Wanda watched Pietro through slitted eyes. He met her gaze stoically, chips of blue telling her exactly nothing. It was like he didn't care what she saw, and that made a screen around his thoughts through sheer apathy.
She sucked in a lungful of air between her teeth, and then threw out her hand, concentrating. Snakes of blue-green issued from her fingertips, ensnaring him again and lifting him from the ground to float at eyelevel with her. His head flopped forward, like his neck was a wet piece of noodle, too weak to support it.
"Why aren't you fighting me?" she asked through gritted teeth. When no answer was forthcoming, she ordered, "Speak!"
It was a long moment before he replied, and even then the response was pithy and insufficient to her increasingly hectic mind. "Because I don't want to."
Wanda sniffed, throwing back her head and staring down her nose at him. "Stupid. You know I'm going to kill you in the end. Not fighting back just means the pain lasts longer until I do."
"I don't care."
"Why? Why don't you care? You're stupid. An idiot, hanging on by a thread. Do you think that by talking with me I'm going to go any easier on you? Is that what you think, huh?"
"No."
"Then what? Why be so accepting? You're not like that - I know. I know you, Pietro. I know you up here," she tapped the side of her head. "You're a fighter. Always have been. Kicking me in the womb. I was born with bruises, and since then you've only given me more. Only they were on the inside, not the outside. You like hurting other people, and hate it when the hurt's turned against you. You fight against it; driving it away with everything you have each time. You think you're unconquerable. So why? *Why*?"
He said nothing, eyes hidden by a thatch of semi-white hair.
"Answer me!" she demanded, voice rising a notch and telltale, dazzling wisps flickering around her clenching and unclenching fists. "*Answer me*! *ANSWER ME*!"
"Because you're my sister."
The shortness of the response took her aback a little, and her concentration faltered just enough for him to fall a few inches, before she recomposed herself and dragged him back up again. Tendrils of her power wrapped themselves around his wrists, securing him further without her having to direct them.
"You're lying," she spat, and mentally tightened the bonds so that they dug into his yielding flesh.
Pietro grimaced, but made no other acknowledgment of the move. "I'm not. For one of the first times in my life, I'm not lying. Wanda, you're my sister. Whatever you think of me and what I've done, you were always that first, to me." His words speeded up, tumbling uncalled from his lips like an unbridled brook over pebbles.
Wanda snarled. "Liar. I was never anything more than an inconvenience to you. Never!"
"You're wrong. I never wanted to see you get hurt, Wanda. And I still don't. You can say what you want about me, but that much is true. You might not believe it, but *I* know that I'm telling the truth, and if I'm gonna die soon then that's all that really matters." He shook his head. "*I* know the truth. I truly never wanted anything bad to happen to you, even when we were kids. You were my big sister; you used to protect me, and I wanted to return the favour when you got sick. I never dreamed things would go as wrong as they have. It... it wasn't meant to be this way - "
"Nice speech, but it is. It *is* this way, and nothing you or I can do will change that. Words don't change the world."
He nodded, slowly. "Even through all that's happened to screw up our lives, Wanda, I still don't wanna ever see you hurt. That's why I won't fight you. You can kill me right now, or later if you want, but I promise you this much. I won't ever raise a finger against you. Not after... what I did to you before. What happened to you... That's a promise."
For a moment, Wanda's eyes wavered. Her lids pulled back, and there was a spark of something completely alien to their stark, bleak environment.
Fear.
Her hand twitched at his announcement, and her mouth moved to speak, but nothing came out. She wanted to revile his declaration; to call him a liar and have done with it. That was, after all, exactly what he was, wasn't it?
Wasn't it?
Something reached out to her. Something tentative. It edged about the fringes of her consciousness, padding around her mind until finally it found a crack and slipped in, probing forward through her confused and muddled thoughts. She tried to push it away, but it was insistent, and she found that she didn't actually want it to leave. There was something tantalisingly familiar about it; yet totally alien.
Twin-bond?
It touched her psyche briefly, ethereal fingers lightly brushing her mind, and there was an explosion of colour.
[A small child, blonde and with dancing blue eyes. He holds a soccer ball in his hands, and tosses it forward, laughing. She kicks it back and he runs after it with her following, laughing all the while]
[Crying. He's crying. She moves to his side and hugs his shoulders, wiping the tears away, doing her best to comfort him. He buries his face into her and they rock together in silence. She wants to comfort him, but he won't tell her what's wrong. He's too proud and stubborn for that.]
[A large boy, squat but broad-shouldered. She stands before him, squaring off against his bulk. It's ridiculous; she'll never win a fight against him. But the quivering figure behind her makes her stay her ground. She has to defend him against this bully. That's what big sisters do - even if they are big sisters only by seven minutes.]
[Blue eyes stare up at her with adoration, as the band-aid is carefully applied to her knee and cheek. He grasps her hand, reiterating yet again how she fought, and how proud of her he is. Her face glows red, but she's pleased. It's nice to see him smile. He tells her of how, when they're all grown up, he's going to take care of her, just like she's taking care of him now. She just smiles and riffles his hair. Grown up is a long time away. There's no point in making plans just yet.]
Wanda gasped, hand flying to herself but wavering as to whether they should be clutching at her chest or skull. She emitted a low groan and plumped for her head, clapping her hands over her ears and drawing the rest of her body up into a foetal position. She rocked back and forth, like a puppet with one of its strings broken.
Pietro looked up at her, but yelped as the bonds imprisoning him abruptly dissolved, and he fell to the earth below. Luckily for him, they were no more than a few feet up, and he landed relatively easily, considering.
Looking up, he saw his sister shaking her head, muttering something to herself.
"Not true. It's not true," she babbled. "Can't be true. Didn't remember it before. Mind-trick. Yeah, that's all it is. Another mind-game, like they used to play in the lab. But... but this isn't like those. No hurting, no electric shock, no collar. Could... could it be? True? But why? Why? Why didn't I remember that before? So clear now. Why didn't I... no, no, no, no, *no*! Not right, not right. Supposed to be killing him. He hurt me, locked me away. Never saw the light for years, and all because of him. My own brother... own brother... Brother? Promises. So many broken promises. Which is the right one? Which? Words... churning inside my head, confusing me... they all just want to confuse me, that's it. That all they're in here for. Leave me alone! Please, just leave me *alone*! Don't wanna listen anymore. Leave me *ALONE*!"
Unexpectedly, her entire body suddenly convulsed, and she tossed back her head with something bordering a feral yell. It ruptured from her throat, more powerful than a clap of thunder and twice as intimidating. Pietro shrank back, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a small golden figure - undoubtedly the 'Water Baby' she'd mentioned earlier - do the same from a sitting position.
Wanda trembled openly, as if she'd been struck by lightning and was being fried from the inside out. Her limbs stretched away from her body, tugging in all different directions, and her fingers splayed so far it was a wonder the skin between them didn't break with the strain. Her chest thrust forward as another agonising scream cleaved into the air.
Pietro dashed forward as best he could, calling up to her. "Wanda! Wan - "
A burst of blue-green knocked him back. It hadn't been aimed, and so created a small crater in the tarmac in front of him, rather than spear him through as it would've done had he been the real target.
More daggers of power followed suit, crackling into the air and making Wanda's unkempt hair stand out from her head in curious peaks and troughs. She opened her eyes, and around them whickered flits of emerald fire.
Pietro suddenly remembered an incident a long time ago, not long before Wanda had been removed to the mental institution. An image of a small girl, screaming and holding her head in pain, as bolts of unwanted and uncontrollable green flame smashed up a room around her briefly crossed his mind; as did his father's lugubrious voice saying that she was 'having an episode'. That had always been the way he phrased it, like she was just throwing a tantrum and could turn it off whenever she wanted.
But Pietro had always felt her pain. Some small part of him had known it was more than just an 'episode'.
Now his eyes widened, and he shouted to her, desperate. "Wanda! *Wanda*!"
She wasn't smiling this time, and didn't even open her fists to let the energy flow out of them. It came forth of its own bidding, slamming into the ground and shattering it in a flurry of broken pieces that Pietro had to shield his face from. Wanda seemed less than pleased with her own doing, now. More terrified at what was happening.
This time, it was she who screamed.
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To Be Continued...
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[1] Callous/heartless one!