A/N ~ Reason for lateness of update = Scribbler's computer went boom. Literally. It blew up on Sunday evening, and I have a nice big scorch mark on the study wall to prove it. Until it's fixed, I'm working from the University computer lab, which means I only get Internet access two days a week. Narf. In other news, twenty-one frikkin' reviews for one frikkin' chapter?! *Breaks out party streamers* WOOT!
The Phantom; You reading symbolism very good, friend Phantom. Ariel it was. Well done. And you like Alvin? Just goes to show you, a character doesn't have to possess great big sparkly superpowers to gain a fan or two.
ChaosCat; I revel in my evilness, mwahahahahahaaaa!
Ice Princess; The oil bit you remember is from a conversation Our Heroes had whilst trying to puzzle out their prophecies a while back. Someone (I forget who - I'm not infallible) mentioned that *black* gold is oil, but none of them could see any connection to Pietro's prophecy and the *blue* gold contained therein. See me stalk you with my Cliffhangers of Doom!
Amarth Obstreperous; Of *Doom*, I say!
Ricter; Lady of Sky is supposed to be Ororo, because she has authority over the skies. Thanks for the compliments a propos Wanda vs. Pietro. I was indeed quite proud of this little lot regarding them, since I'd never actually written Wanda in any great length or depth before this. For more Wanda and Pietro goodness courtesy of the NutBoard, check out our other finished epic 'Futures Tense' at http://wofriends.tripod.com/maftense1.htm. *Plugplugplugplugplug*. Sorry, but I'm just so psyched at the moment because some fanart I requested for that fic came through. Check it out here at http://www.internutter.org/bb/viewtopic.php?t=346
UnknownSource; 'After all would you willing run towards the psychopath throwing hexbolts wildly?' Every time I read new reviews, a line or two pop out at me. This one made me choke on my drink. ^_^ And all your questions will be answered in this chapter, hopefully.
Diabolus in Musica; New reviewer! *Punches the air* We snagged another one, guys... uh, I mean, welcome aboard.
Hootild; Bitter chocolate is nice. Bitter Hootild is not so nice. *Edges away*
Anime-catdagon; *Takes chainsaw to writer's block* Sure I'll help you, just mail me if and when you need anything. I beta for a couple of other people, too. Just remember what I said about my computer going kablooey when waiting for a reply. *Trundles off mumbling* Wow, someone actually wants me to help them with fiction...
Remedy=Chill; And so we come to our second line-that-popped-out-at-me, though I'm not sure anyone else would see the humour in the image my brain conjured up when reading 'Another golden nugget my friends. But instead of being wrested from the earth you drop them from a clear and empty sky.' I suppose it depends whether 'golden nugget' is the same vernacular to you as it is to me... Anyway, babbling aside, you really like this fic? I'm touched, truly I am, R=C. That's probably one of the nicest compliments I've ever received, bar none.
Ambrosia; I'm not sure whether to be impressed or frightened by your precognitive skills. You've predicted a couple of future plot points already, and it's quite odd reading them back like that. Gumnut Babies? Um, I don't think they ever made it to Britain, so I can't comment. Blessid Union of Souls! I only own one song of theirs, but it's one of my favourites. 'If Only Tears Could Bring You Back', as I recall. Also, I'm going to answer your questions for 'Second Best' here, as well, in the hope that people will go read and review it as a result. (I've given up on being discreet - go forth and read it!) Pertaining to the use of 'one' instead of 'you', I use it because that's honestly how I speak in real life sometimes. I have no idea why, but in more formal situations it pops out, like 'y'all' does for some people. A copse is a small clump of trees. I get the feeling the Institute is a place where everything has a kind of order, even if it's not immediately identifiable. The sugar rush thing wasn't a reflection of Kurt's grammatical proficiency, just my crappy typing skills at work. Apologies for that one, it slipped through the net. The episode you're thinking of with the stolen X-Jet is 'Joyride' from Season Two, and that was *Jubilee* in back, not Amara. Amara was the one who got adopted into the Bayville Sirens. I'll settle that the blonde delinquent is female, and leave you to work the rest out from there.
Kryz; *Grunts as pulls fic up by roots* It's... coming... little by... little... Ah! Here we go, new chapter all done. ^_^
AerinBrown; There's quite a few more twists and turns before this monster rolls over, I can assure you. ;)
Yma; You deserved it. Altogether now... na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na *Bat*-*man*!
Morgannia; Thanks. The review is appreciated.
S. S. Goten; Is that a DBZ pseudonym, or am I seeing things? ;) Welcome onto the bus.
Krazy Xanadu; That's a real statement, Krazy. It's wonderful this fic has made such an impression on you.
DemonRogue13; I'll pass the good wishes and compliments along. Thanks, darlin'.
Risa; My fingers hurt. But we're at the last review. And what a review. I'm assuming the 'god writing' is a typo, but it's a nice typo all the same. I can't really answer many of your questions since it would spoil the upcoming arc, but I can say that Lady of Sky isn't Mystique. She's the Lady Mobius.
*******************
Twenty-eighth Fragment ~ Life
*******************
Daisy's eyes were wide, and she hugged her blanket to her. "Logan," she whimpered, crawling forwards to the edge of her seat, "what's going on?"
The elder mutant finished arranging Raven across the back seat of the bus and leaned back, balancing on one knee. "Nuthin' good, darlin'."
Across from him, he could see Alvin doing likewise with the Lance's body, save for the fact that the preacher was making a point to keep the earth-shaker's face covered. A glance towards Kitty, however, told Logan that the action wasn't really necessary if it was being completed for her benefit.
Kitty sat, the picture of wretchedness with her knees drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped round, rocking gently back and forth with silent tracks down her cheeks. Her face was pale, and with his better-than-average vision Logan could see through her glasses that her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Apparently, blindness hadn't affected her ability to grieve that way, and some dim part of his brain told him that it was probably better she had such an outlet rather than being forced to keep everything bottled up inside.
Hope lay in the safety seat next to her, grizzling softly, but Kitty either didn't notice or didn't care. Given her previous behaviour with her child, Logan was more inclined to favour the former option. He briefly considered going to tend Hope himself, but was halted by a small hand tugging insistently on his left arm.
"No, I meant out there," Daisy said, pointing out of the window.
Logan looked up. Instantly, he was on his feet and bounding out of the door. Daisy squeaked as her grip on his arm was torn loose, and was only saved from toppling to the floor by Alvin.
The two of them stared, as Logan egressed in such haste that when he caught and ripped his shirt on a piece of protruding metal, he didn't even pause.
Daisy quivered and looked up. "Mr. Alvin, what's happening?" Then, in a very small voice, she added, "I'm scared."
Alvin just bit his lip and allowed her to snuffle into his robe. A little piece of him was glad for the company in this dark hour after the cold-shoulder he'd been shown by other members of their group. The events playing out on the bridge were only just beginning to sink in, and he found himself hugging Daisy back as if he were a child himself, lost in this sea of anger and pain.
"It'll be all right, little one," he whispered, stroking her feathers.
"It will?"
"Yes." He nodded. "It has to be."
*******************
Rogue was all set to be torn to shreds, and instinctively turned herself as far to the side as the licking flames would allow, using her own body as a shield for Robyn. The fire wasn't especially large, but since Wanda was obviously the one controlling it, Rogue was under no misapprehension that the maddened girl could also cause it to flare up at whim.
The heat around her ankles increased briefly, and Rogue braced herself for the final blow.
So it was a complete surprise when it didn't come. Even more so when the fire abruptly died, leaving nothing more than a rough circle of black.
Rogue waited a few seconds. Then she lifted her head.
Wanda's expression was something to behold. She looked confused, and her face showed in equal parts the traces of recognition, anger, and overwhelming sadness. As Rogue watched, the light behind her eyes dimmed, revealing vaguely glowing green irises framed by long black lashes untouched by the heat. The fire in them sputtered momentarily, divulging irises as blue as Pietro's.
Rogue blinked. There was something... familiar about that face. The angular cheekbones and cusping flesh stretched across struck a chord deep within her, yet somehow remained just out if reach of questing mental fingers.
The once-Goth inwardly searched, sorting through memories of faces in the hope that one of them would explain this curious feeling of... of fellowship blossoming somewhere in the region of her chest. Almost... camaraderie? But how could... she'd never met Wanda before in her life. Certainly, an all-powerful mutant with a bad temper wasn't someone you forgot in a hurry. Yet the odd feeling stayed at bay, taunting her and then slipping away again.
Wanda held her gaze, neither one of them looking away. It was as if a strand of consciousness existed between them; not as intimate as the twin-bond, but approaching it. One could almost see a wire leading from one girl to the other, wrapping around each of them and drawing them close. It transcended the anger Wanda felt, and Rogue's fear, numbing them both as they riffled through their memories; like they'd undergone some ordeal together, and were only just remembering the part the other played in it.
Rogue realised with a shock that her lips were moving soundlessly, forming words her voice didn't accompany.
_Who are you?_
Unbidden, Wanda reached out, but before her hand even touched Rogue's cheek there was a burst of blinding colour.
Running. She was running. Running like her life depended on it - which it would, if they caught her. She couldn't let them catch her - them. Not now. Not when they was so close to getting out. To being free.
Her bare feet thwacked the ground, which was uneven and stony. She'd already reached the outside world. She would *not* let them take her back - them back. Never. She'd waited too long and endured too much to have it snatched away now.
Dark sky stretched above her, speckled with stars. It'd been so long since she'd seen the sky - starry or otherwise. She saw her companion stumble, and marvelled that there was a stone to stumble over instead of the smooth flat surfaces of the lab. Metal was no substitute for proper earth, and she resisted the urge to fall to her knees and kiss it simply for being there.
She reached and grabbed, dragging the girl back up and forcing her on. A short glimpse of face. Scars like hers, but different. Strange hair. White stripe. She was running too. Running together. As one. Free together. Free as one.
Torchlight flared behind them, and the monotonous wailing of the siren reached a new pitch. But she didn't care. They wouldn't take her back now. Not now she was free. Not now they were free.
Free.
Freedom.
She was out. They were out. Away from the needles and shocks and knives. Away from the scalpels and collars and chains. She was a person again. They were people again, escaping together. Pelting side by side under the ever-indifferent moon. Liberated. Released.
Free!
*Free*!
Wanda yanked back, gasping and shaking her hand like she'd been burned. Rogue simply stood, heaving in lungfuls of air as several memories clicked back into place.
Wanda spoke; softly, almost gently. "Specimen 5930?" Her tone was hesitant, but brightened when Rogue nodded, slowly.
"7... 541," Rogue replied, remembering the number given to her cell-mate when they'd been denied names and forced to exist under the façade of codes as identities.
They gazed at each other for a moment, lost in memories they'd stored away in the nooks and crannies of their minds, or else been denied through the actions and presence of others. Audrey was a constant sticking point, but Rogue barely thought of her as she marvelled over not knowing this girl's name, despite the fact that they'd escaped the facility together. It was ironic in a way, but also deeply, deeply saddening in a manner she couldn't quite fathom.
The cry startled them both.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Logan fell from the air, a living, breathing bullet tipped with adamantium claws. His face was a savage mask, and his yell was as close to a feral warcry as he'd ever unleashed.
Wanda shot backwards, throwing up her hands. At once there was a brilliant shaft of light that caught Logan directly in his chest, punching a hole through and sending him reeling through the air to land not twelve feet from Kurt's inert form.
Rogue found her tongue at last. "NO!" she screamed, and automatically lunged for Wanda's hands, trying to yank them away.
For a moment, Wanda's expression switched to one of fear, and then supreme concentration, as she visibly willed her power back into her. However, she either wasn't quick enough, or wasn't strong enough to do so, and though it didn't cause any lasting injury, the remnants threw Rogue back, dislodging Robyn from her arms as she rolled over and over in the blackened debris.
Another scream pierced the air.
Looking up, Rogue could see that Wanda was holding her head again, shaking it from side to side. Around her, her power fizzled and bubbled, ostensibly angry at being restrained. It wove into the air, grasping at emptiness as it sought to escape the confines of her body, all but tearing her apart in the process.
Presently, words became distinguishable amongst the anguished cries.
"No! No more! I don't want to hurt anymore! No more death! No more killing! No more of *this*! I... I.... YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!"
*******************
Pietro fumbled and dropped forwards, bracing himself against the ground with one hand. His chest still heaved, and his broken nose was beginning to ache painfully. Blood dripped and slithered into his eyes and he blinked, shaking away small droplets in an effort to see what was going on.
Clasped to his chest, the water-child still snuffled desolately, his entire body rigid with panic and fatigue. A few sots of red flicked onto him, and, without any real thought to what he was doing, Pietro reached up and brushed them away again, leaving trails of pink across his dry scales.
"Sorry kid," Pietro burbled. "Didn't mean to dirty you up none, I - uungh." Removing his hand from the ground proved to be a silly action, for it allowed the rest of him to sway, and his head very nearly pitched to the floor as his mind suddenly swam. There was a throbbing constantly going in his ears, and various aches and pains he'd been able to ignore whilst on the move now made themselves known about his person very clearly.
Lifting his face from the speedster's shoulder, the scaly kid peered with morbid curiosity. "You don't look so good," he informed him in a tiny voice.
Pietro allowed himself a small, incongruous smirk. "Thanks for the morale boost, kid. 'Preciate it."
The kid just kept up the permanently wary look, though the corners of his mouth twitched, and Pietro felt him unstiffen ever-so-slightly in his arms. However, he froze again like a statue as a heart-rending scream abruptly gashed the air wide open.
Neither of them could fully understand what was going on at first. The sight of Wanda once again seizing her skull confused them both, since mere moments ago she'd seemed to have a firm hold on her powers. In fact, it wasn't until Pietro received another jab of instructive empathy that he truly appreciated what was going on.
"She can't control it," he whispered, brushing a lock of reddened hair from his eyes to see better.
"Huh?" said the kid, turning inquiring eyes upon him.
"Her powers, they're too much for her. She never... never learned proper control, only bits and pieces. Only how to keep them contained. Now they're out, and she can't stop them. It's... It's killing her." His voice rose to a strangled whisper, and he struggled to his feet, only to sink down again.
The kid switched his gaze between Wanda and his odd redeemer several times, then bit his lip. "Why do you care?" he asked diffidently. "She tried to kill you. She wanted you dead."
"She's my sister," Pietro replied, not taking his eyes from her convulsing body. "And it's partly my fault that she's like this." His breath caught in his throat, and a thousand and one emotions ghosted over his face.
The kid looked at the two of them once more, spent a second considering something, and then struggled to free himself from Pietro's hold. The speedster joggled from his reverie as the scaly bundle wriggled free and stood, wobbling, on the ruined tarmac. For a moment he blanched, and looked as if he was going to faint, but then he schooled his face into a firm mask and said simply, "Go to her," with as much authority as he could muster.
"Kid - " Pietro began, but was stopped.
"Just... go to her. She needs you. She needs someone."
This time it was Pietro's turn to chew his bottom lip, and he vacillated just a microsecond more before exerting a fresh burst of strength to push himself to his feet and take his first, tottery step. Knees bowing slightly, he swivelled back to face the small child.
"Hey kid, just in case I don't make it, what's your name? It's not really 'Water Baby', is it?"
"I, uh - Ariel. My name's Ariel."
"Cute. I'm Pietro." And then he was gone, not quite speeding, but doing his darnedest to reach the mayhem as fast as he could.
Ariel watched him go before at last permitting himself the luxury of sitting down again. His backside hit the floor with a solid thump, but the twinge barely registered as he automatically drew spilled moisture from the wet ground in to cool his rattling gills. His eyes, on the other hand, remained fixed on the retreating not-quite-blonde figure, and the little water sprite, though not particularly religious, suddenly sent up a prayer to whatever god or deity chose to listen to him.
"Please let this turn out all right. Please..."
*******************
It was all Pietro could do to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, but do it he did, sheer determination driving him onwards where his flagging strength could not. He was aware of how walking, much less running, should be a smooth experience, not reduced to counting individual steps and the strain they cost him, as he was doing now. Every single muscle smarted and complained, but he told them to shut up and kept progressing gamely onwards despite their painful verbosity.
When he stood not a few yards from his sister, he stopped. His throat was scratchy and felt drier than a desert, but he managed to push out a few words. "Wanda, please, let me help you."
She didn't respond, and he wondered whether she'd heard him at all. He was all ready to call up again, when a sudden movement in his peripheral vision made him pause and turn his head.
Rogue had somehow gotten to her feet, and was now pottering around some distance away. Astonishingly, she was unhurt apart from a few cuts and bruises, and he saw her bend down at Kurt's side before looking up and yelling something. Something that gave a desperate edge to her voice. Something important. A name.
"Robyn!"
Robyn?
Pietro blinked. But Robyn was safe on the bus wasn't she? She was - no, wait, Rogue had been carrying her. That's right. And Rogue had left the bus with a clutch of blankets in her arms that could only have been Robyn. He remembered seeing that.
But... but if Rogue never went back to the bus, and had no such bundle now, then where was...?
Cold dread invaded his stomach, and for a moment Pietro forgot about everything; his injuries, the pain jolting through his twin-bond, the dreadful situation they were in - everything! It all paled in comparison to knowing where the sick little cat-girl was. She was still too weak to get herself out of immediate danger, and he was in doubt as to what would happen if Wanda's powers continued to run rampant without Robyn's ability to remove herself from harm.
He stumbled forwards, passing beneath the spot where Wanda hung like a broken marionette and calling urgently. "Robyn! Robyn, where are you?"
There was no answer, and he could've kicked himself. Of course she wouldn't reply. Poor Robyn had barely had enough strength to do anything but sleep since she fell ill. Even after Daisy brought the little healer, Robyn's energy was virtually nothing. There was no way she could shout to him, no matter how important doing so might be. He wondered whether she was even conscious.
Desperately, Pietro scanned the ground for a telltale collection of swaddling. Robyn was a small girl, but even so she shouldn't be especially difficult to spot in this smashed wasteland. He hoped.
He crested a mound of shattered asphalt and stood, wobbling and calling endlessly. For all the good it did him. He could hear Wanda still screaming behind him, and he was torn between the separate plights of his two sisters.
_I've done it again. I've fucking done it *again*!_
It appeared that no matter what he did, he would never make the cut in brotherhood. Never. He was a terrible sibling, and there seemed to be no getting away from the fact. Twice now, he'd failed a sister, and just when he had the potential chance to set things right with one, he went and screwed up with the other. He was hopeless. Why did the world keep on giving him siblings, when all he did was let them down? Wanda, Robyn, even the extended adoptive family he'd gained on this god-forsaken trip. He'd let them all down - perhaps even killed them - and all because he was a bad brother.
A mantra started up inside his head, and even though he tried to fight it back down, it echoed inside his skull.
_Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad -_
Wait!
What was that? Over there. Was that... yes! Yes, it was! He could see the corner of a tattered old blanket peeking out from behind a mound of torn up road, and recognised it instantly.
Nearly falling over in his haste, Pietro descended and started hurrying to the spot where, no doubt, Robyn lay. He prayed she was all right, and barely took any notice when his foot caught a piece of upturned earth, or when his chest suddenly began to twinge tellingly, or when another agonized screech punched a hole through the air above his head.
He did, however, notice when an sweep of green light flew violently past, very nearly clipping his ear. He also noticed when said light hit a bizarrely parked car with no roof at the side of the road, that had somehow managed to stay put when the wall of water fell. He noticed, too, when the car exploded, throwing him backwards and engulfing the area of bridge around it in a mixture of aggressive yellow and green flames.
The area of bridge where Robyn was.
"ROBYN!"
He was on his feet before he truly knew what he was doing, and dredging up the very last bit of energy stored deep inside him. His legs started to move, slowly at first, then building up pace, faster and faster, until he reached the edge of the blaze. The heat was severe, and he felt his eyebrows begin to singe off from the ash. The blood caking most of his face and hair dried on the move, and began to crackle and flake away as billows of hot air touched his skin.
Somewhere to his left he could hear Rogue shouting for him to stop, but there was no way he could do that now. He was too far-gone, caught up in his own speed and momentum. A momentum that consequently allowed him to burst through the wall of fire without sustaining too much damage.
What happened next was pure and utter instinct on Pietro's part. The fire was so brutal that there was little time for sentient thought other than _Must find Robyn,_ and his limbs moved seemingly of their own will to do just that.
The speedster scoured the rapidly burning ground until he saw the identifiable upturning of tarmac and bounded over. He could already feel his clothing start to smoke, even though he moved too fast for the fire to actually catch hold of him. A moving target was always harder to burn, and it wasn't until he paused that it got its chance to bite.
Sure enough, the bundle of blankets were there, and he hastily lifted them up, ignoring the pain the burning fabric incurred as he removed the unconscious little girl from it and held her tightly to his chest. Kicking the burning material aside, he picked a random direction, huddled her close, and moved off.
Pain like that of a severe lashing suddenly slashed across his shoulders as a tongue of fire finally licked his back, and he repressed the urge to scream. He could feel the edges of his shirt fall away as a charred hole opened up, lightly brushing the skin they'd exposed to the greedy conflagration. Tears welled unbidden in the corners of his eyes, but hissed away into steam before they could fall.
Clenching his jaw and using himself as a shield, Pietro hunched over Robyn's tiny form and barrelled forwards. He didn't know what direction he was going in, and could only trust to luck that he came out on the bridge and not so close to the smashed rail that he fell over it.
It was then that Fortune finally decided to smile over him. Whatever her reasons for abandoning the speedster and his party before, now she returned to beam down upon him, allowing him to exit the inferno onto a relatively unscathed patch of road where few obstacles stood in the way of his pounding feet.
Pietro powered out of the hungry blaze faster than a freight train, feet hitting the unburned road with a slight jar and revelling in the cooler air. Had his velocity not been quite so much he might have drunk in a breath to soothe his scorched lungs. As it was, had he tried to open his mouth he probably would've dislocated his jaw.
He sped along for several feet, before skidding to a halt in a bout of dust and minor debris. Then, last ebb of strength finally gone, he crumpled to his knees, and then his side, dimly aware of the small flames edging over his hip and smouldering in his hair. He felt empty, completely drained, and yet... somehow satisfied, and hung possessively on to Robyn's petite form.
"Not a bad brother... I'm... not..."
*******************
Rogue looked on, jaw very nearly reaching sea level. She watched helplessly as Pietro dove into the flames, and then again as he ran back out and collapsed on the floor, hugging what could only have been Robyn. She saw the trail of smoke he left behind him and the flames creeping up his burning clothes. She saw his reddened skin, and the faint waft of roasting meat reached her nostrils.
And she screamed for him.
"PIETRO!"
Ignoring her own minor discomfort, she stumbled over, yanking off the coat Kurt had salvaged for her to beat out the greenish teeth eating him. Pietro groaned when the fabric touched, and Rogue instantly dropped to her knees, grabbing his shoulders roughly.
"Pietro! Pietro, you idiot! Come on, say something! *Pietro*!"
For a second there was no response, and she shook him again. Briefly, his eyelids flickered, and she took that as a good sign, shaking him harder. Perhaps she wasn't meant to jostle him quite so much if he was hurt, but she knew enough about first aid that he had to stay awake. He *had* to.
"Pietro! Pietro, don't you dare pass out on me. Don't you *dare*!"
He mumbled, and she leaned closer, thinking he was trying to tell her something.
" 'M... good ... good brother... bro..."
"Sure you are, Speedy. But you ain't gonna be no good to nobody if you pass out. Come on, snap out of it. *Please*!"
Instead of answering, he let out a small sigh, and she felt his body start to go limp beneath her fingers.
_Oh no you don't!_
Impulsively, she drew back her hand and slapped him across his cheek. Hard.
One would think that after the beating he'd taken, one more smack wouldn't mean anything. Apparently, though, Pietro's nerve endings were still functioning enough to register the short, sharp burst of pain, and his eyes snapped open. As did his mouth.
"*Fuck*! What was *that* for, Rogue?"
"You absolute *cretin*, Pietro!" she grated, and then surprised them both by enveloping him in a grateful hug, only leaving off when her gloved hands skimmed the blistered patch on his back. Rocking back on her heels, Rogue sniffed and wiped hurriedly at her eyes.
"Don't you *ever* do anything like that again. You hear me? You could've - "
"Died?" He scrunched up his face, sitting jerkily up with more than a little help. "Yeah, I know. But I couldn't... I... Rogue, I've screwed up so many times. I couldn't let Robyn die. I just... She's not my sister by blood, but all of us - we're the closest she's got to proper family. I... I..."
Rogue stroked a hand through Robyn's matted hair and nodded. "I know," she said simply. Then softer, "I know."
Pietro looked down at the furry child and did likewise. It was as if, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed. This tiny spot in the middle of a ruined bridge was the entire universe, and he focussed on the moment with as much intensity as when he was using his powers.
"I just want to be a good brother," he whispered, more to himself than anything else.
Rogue looked up, but he avoided her eyes, shameful of the fact that he should long for something that should, by rights, be innate. She reached out and touched his chin, trying not to hurt the ugly blisters and welts and tipping his face toward her.
"If you really want it, then that's half the battle fought, ain't it?"
*******************
_... ain't it?_
If.
You.
Really.
_If you really..._
Wanda heard the words as if in a dream. They echoed inside her head, listened to by her twin and sent through their intrinsic link until she was all but convinced it was she sitting there on the ground, not up here being thrown to the winds by her own rampant powers.
Slowly, and with great effort, she opened her eyes.
Her world was green, and filled with light that crackled and burned with all the brilliance of a thousand stars. She could feel each jolt through her body, singeing her nerves and sending her blood singing with agony. But her tears had run dry, and her cries fallen silent. She was numb - beyond feeling. All she was truly aware of was the strange, ethereal voice coming from... somewhere.
_...want it..._
Want what? What was she supposed to want?
Revenge?
Maybe.
She'd wanted revenge for so long. Years. A whole lifetime. So long.
Yet, now she'd tasted it, the dish was strangely bitter on her tongue. Acrid. Caustic.
Was that how it was supposed to feel?
Somehow she'd thought that, since others seemed to enjoy giving her so much pain, it might be enjoyable to give some out herself for once. To see how it felt being on the other side of the divide.
Payback.
Evening the odds.
Revenge.
But it wasn't like that. Not at all.
Vengeance had only made her feel emptier, like there was a void in her heart growing steadily wider every time she sought to close it. She'd thought tracking down Pietro and making him suffer would alleviate her misery, but it hadn't. Not one bit. She felt even more miserable now than she had before, and something told her that it wasn't just because she was hurting physically. This feeling went deeper. Much deeper. Right to her soul - if she even had one.
Do murderers have souls?
_...then that's half the battle fought..._
Half a battle? She'd fought more than that today. She'd killed people. Taken them away from those they loved and who loved them.
Why?
Because she wanted them to feel just as lonely as she did?
But she didn't even know them. They were strangers.
The doctors had been strangers too, but that hadn't stopped them hurting her. She'd been so alone, so desperately lonely. Nobody had ever bothered themselves about her. Never.
Had they?
Fuzziness clouded her mind. She couldn't remember. God help her, she couldn't remember!
_...ain't it?_
What? *What*? Why was she doing this? Why had she come here? She couldn't remember anything but pain. There was more to her than that, surely? There had to be. People weren't only made up of hurting. Before the pain, a long time ago, she'd felt something else. Something... different.
Why couldn't she remember it? *Why*?
*WHY*?
A face. Pale skin, tired hair, eyes like blue chips of ice. Talking. To her? No. To another. Different link this time. That girl. She was projecting this. But how...?
_ I just want to be a good brother._
Pietro.
Brother.
Family.
Wanda suddenly realised what she'd been missing. That emptiness inside her could have been healed, but not the way she'd chosen to do it. She'd chosen the path of hatred and violence, and probably given up her own sanity and soul because of it.
She'd been lonely.
But so had he.
He'd talked to the dead because he was so lonely.
"P... Piet... tro."
Her mouth hurt, and she felt the corners of her lips crack, they were so dry. Something ran down the side of her chin from the split. Her head hurt, her mind ached, her soul felt crushed.
Yet at the same time... free.
The moment she'd taken that first step along this road, she'd signed her own future to dust. There was no turning back. Even if she could stop what was happening to her body, her spirit was too tarnished, now.
But perhaps by preventing herself from doing any more damage, from causing any more hurt, she could repent?
Maybe.
At least a little.
If she could just find enough inside her to do this one thing, then it would be better. All she had to do was try; try as hard as she could. She needed to do this. She needed to...
_ If you really want it, then that's half the battle fought, ain't it?_
"Yes," she whispered. "I guess it is."
*******************
Logan grunted as he got to his feet. Jeez, Speedy's sister could sure pack a wallop. Glancing down, he was graced with the sight of a rapidly closing hole in the middle of his chest. It hurt like hell, and he was sure that, even after he'd finished regrowing everything that needed regrowing, he'd ache for a month of Sundays to come. Had it been anybody else she'd hit, then undoubtedly they would've been dead right about now. Probably with half their insides splashed across the pavement. He, on the other hand, could get away with ripped clothing and a headache.
_Ah, the many benefits of healing factor._
Pulling himself upright, he looked down at the scene still playing out on the bridge. From what he could tell, Wanda's blast had actually managed to knock him out for a few minutes, because he sure as hell couldn't remember Rogue and Pietro huddled together with... was that *Robyn* in the kid's arms? Nor could he remember a flaming car wreck burning merrily at the side of the street.
A flash of movement just beyond the two teenagers suddenly caught his eye, and his mouth set into an even grimmer line than before as he saw what it was.
"Look out!"
Since they were the words he'd been intending to say himself, hearing them come from someone else's lips was slightly disconcerting, and he paused momentarily to see who'd shouted.
A small, golden child was on his hands and knees, yelling at the top of his lungs. Even from here, Logan could see the desperate look in his eyes, and so lent his own voice as well.
"Speedy! Stripes! Book it! She's coming back!"
*******************
Pietro looked up, instinctively bringing Robyn closer. Rogue did the same, laying a protective hand on the little girl's head as she stared up into Wanda's face.
Wanda's... smiling face.
Wanda was smiling?
And it wasn't the cruel, malicious smile she favoured either. This was a warm upturning of the lips, tinged with a curious melancholy that resounded in her eyes like a knell. She looked happy, yet simultaneously sombre. A discordant mix that made the both of them stop and stare, if only to gawp at the distinct lack of anger in her features.
She was still surrounded by the pulsing green light, and every now and then would flinch from being at the heart of it. Yet her face retained an aura of calm, and she smiled down at them with something approaching beatification.
"Pietro," she said, voice not really above a murmur but audible nonetheless. How it was possible escaped them, as they listened to her strangely sorrowful words. It was as if every scrap of anger had been cleansed away quite suddenly, and both of them blanched at the abrupt change.
Pietro cleared his throat. "Wanda, please... I wanna help you. You gotta believe me, I - "
Wanda held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "I didn't see it before," she said softly. "I guess I was too blinded by hate. Part of me didn't want to believe you. I was too stuck on making you pay for what happened." She shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry Pietro. I'm sorry for... well, everything."
A small block of icy dread began to manifest in the pit of Pietro's stomach, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "What're you saying?" Why did she sound so resigned? Regretful, almost. He wanted to help her. Was that so bad?
Slowly, Wanda levitated higher into the air, moving sideways but keeping her eyes trained on her brother's face. Soon she hovered above the rail of the bridge, still smiling, and said in a small voice, "I wish things could've turned out differently. I remember before... before all of this." She waved a hand in the air, encompassing everything around them into the gesture. "I remember you once telling me to hold onto the present, and stop worrying about the future so much. You said each moment was precious. A gift. You were right. They are. I just wish we'd had more of them."
Pietro frowned. What she said sounded so familiar, and he wracked his brains trying to figure out where he'd heard something like that before.
All at once it came to him. Alvin's voice was like a breeze, flitting airily about his mind.
**Lady Luck meets Brother Time, precious moment ends in sorrow.**
"Wanda, *no*!" The words ripped from his throat unbidden, and Rogue whipped around to stare at him.
Still smiling, supreme concentration ghosted over Wanda's face for a moment, as she yanked the force that had been holding her up back into her body.
And plummeted like a stone to the water far below.
"No!" Pietro screamed, scrabbling to his feet. "NO! NO! *NO*!"
A loud splash was heard, even as he hobbled to the side, and Rogue jumped up to grab his arm and pull him back.
"Getoffme!" he spat, pushing her away. "Wanda! WANDA!"
"Pietro," Rogue said, gripping him again like an iron band. "Stop. Don't look, please."
"She might still be okay! She might - "
"Pietro -" There was something in her eye. It made the world blurry. "Nobody could've survived a fall like that."
"But she's my *sister*!"
"That's why you can't. You don't wanna see her... like that."
He stared at her for a moment, frozen in stone. There was a jolt inside his chest, like a cord snapping. Then his barriers crashed around him, and he broke down, tears spilling down his cheeks and sinking to his knees. Reflexively, his arms tightened around Robyn, and Rogue followed him down, allowing him to sob into her shoulder.
"Why?" he asked, breath hitching. "I was going to... to help her..."
"You couldn't, Speedy," said Rogue, holding back her own tears. She hadn't known Wanda like him, but finding the girl she'd escaped with, only to lose her again so quickly... it still stung. "Nobody could. And she knew it."
He cried harder, soaking the fabric of her shirt. Rogue looked up as a hand touched her other shoulder.
"Come on," Logan said gruffly. "This ain't no place for us no more."
Rogue nodded. "Just give him a minute, okay? He's been through a lot."
"We all have, princess." Logan turned his face towards the waiting bus, and then at the small golden figure watching them not ten feet away. "We all have."
*******************
To Be Continued...
*******************
The Phantom; You reading symbolism very good, friend Phantom. Ariel it was. Well done. And you like Alvin? Just goes to show you, a character doesn't have to possess great big sparkly superpowers to gain a fan or two.
ChaosCat; I revel in my evilness, mwahahahahahaaaa!
Ice Princess; The oil bit you remember is from a conversation Our Heroes had whilst trying to puzzle out their prophecies a while back. Someone (I forget who - I'm not infallible) mentioned that *black* gold is oil, but none of them could see any connection to Pietro's prophecy and the *blue* gold contained therein. See me stalk you with my Cliffhangers of Doom!
Amarth Obstreperous; Of *Doom*, I say!
Ricter; Lady of Sky is supposed to be Ororo, because she has authority over the skies. Thanks for the compliments a propos Wanda vs. Pietro. I was indeed quite proud of this little lot regarding them, since I'd never actually written Wanda in any great length or depth before this. For more Wanda and Pietro goodness courtesy of the NutBoard, check out our other finished epic 'Futures Tense' at http://wofriends.tripod.com/maftense1.htm. *Plugplugplugplugplug*. Sorry, but I'm just so psyched at the moment because some fanart I requested for that fic came through. Check it out here at http://www.internutter.org/bb/viewtopic.php?t=346
UnknownSource; 'After all would you willing run towards the psychopath throwing hexbolts wildly?' Every time I read new reviews, a line or two pop out at me. This one made me choke on my drink. ^_^ And all your questions will be answered in this chapter, hopefully.
Diabolus in Musica; New reviewer! *Punches the air* We snagged another one, guys... uh, I mean, welcome aboard.
Hootild; Bitter chocolate is nice. Bitter Hootild is not so nice. *Edges away*
Anime-catdagon; *Takes chainsaw to writer's block* Sure I'll help you, just mail me if and when you need anything. I beta for a couple of other people, too. Just remember what I said about my computer going kablooey when waiting for a reply. *Trundles off mumbling* Wow, someone actually wants me to help them with fiction...
Remedy=Chill; And so we come to our second line-that-popped-out-at-me, though I'm not sure anyone else would see the humour in the image my brain conjured up when reading 'Another golden nugget my friends. But instead of being wrested from the earth you drop them from a clear and empty sky.' I suppose it depends whether 'golden nugget' is the same vernacular to you as it is to me... Anyway, babbling aside, you really like this fic? I'm touched, truly I am, R=C. That's probably one of the nicest compliments I've ever received, bar none.
Ambrosia; I'm not sure whether to be impressed or frightened by your precognitive skills. You've predicted a couple of future plot points already, and it's quite odd reading them back like that. Gumnut Babies? Um, I don't think they ever made it to Britain, so I can't comment. Blessid Union of Souls! I only own one song of theirs, but it's one of my favourites. 'If Only Tears Could Bring You Back', as I recall. Also, I'm going to answer your questions for 'Second Best' here, as well, in the hope that people will go read and review it as a result. (I've given up on being discreet - go forth and read it!) Pertaining to the use of 'one' instead of 'you', I use it because that's honestly how I speak in real life sometimes. I have no idea why, but in more formal situations it pops out, like 'y'all' does for some people. A copse is a small clump of trees. I get the feeling the Institute is a place where everything has a kind of order, even if it's not immediately identifiable. The sugar rush thing wasn't a reflection of Kurt's grammatical proficiency, just my crappy typing skills at work. Apologies for that one, it slipped through the net. The episode you're thinking of with the stolen X-Jet is 'Joyride' from Season Two, and that was *Jubilee* in back, not Amara. Amara was the one who got adopted into the Bayville Sirens. I'll settle that the blonde delinquent is female, and leave you to work the rest out from there.
Kryz; *Grunts as pulls fic up by roots* It's... coming... little by... little... Ah! Here we go, new chapter all done. ^_^
AerinBrown; There's quite a few more twists and turns before this monster rolls over, I can assure you. ;)
Yma; You deserved it. Altogether now... na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na *Bat*-*man*!
Morgannia; Thanks. The review is appreciated.
S. S. Goten; Is that a DBZ pseudonym, or am I seeing things? ;) Welcome onto the bus.
Krazy Xanadu; That's a real statement, Krazy. It's wonderful this fic has made such an impression on you.
DemonRogue13; I'll pass the good wishes and compliments along. Thanks, darlin'.
Risa; My fingers hurt. But we're at the last review. And what a review. I'm assuming the 'god writing' is a typo, but it's a nice typo all the same. I can't really answer many of your questions since it would spoil the upcoming arc, but I can say that Lady of Sky isn't Mystique. She's the Lady Mobius.
*******************
Twenty-eighth Fragment ~ Life
*******************
Daisy's eyes were wide, and she hugged her blanket to her. "Logan," she whimpered, crawling forwards to the edge of her seat, "what's going on?"
The elder mutant finished arranging Raven across the back seat of the bus and leaned back, balancing on one knee. "Nuthin' good, darlin'."
Across from him, he could see Alvin doing likewise with the Lance's body, save for the fact that the preacher was making a point to keep the earth-shaker's face covered. A glance towards Kitty, however, told Logan that the action wasn't really necessary if it was being completed for her benefit.
Kitty sat, the picture of wretchedness with her knees drawn up to her chest and arms wrapped round, rocking gently back and forth with silent tracks down her cheeks. Her face was pale, and with his better-than-average vision Logan could see through her glasses that her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Apparently, blindness hadn't affected her ability to grieve that way, and some dim part of his brain told him that it was probably better she had such an outlet rather than being forced to keep everything bottled up inside.
Hope lay in the safety seat next to her, grizzling softly, but Kitty either didn't notice or didn't care. Given her previous behaviour with her child, Logan was more inclined to favour the former option. He briefly considered going to tend Hope himself, but was halted by a small hand tugging insistently on his left arm.
"No, I meant out there," Daisy said, pointing out of the window.
Logan looked up. Instantly, he was on his feet and bounding out of the door. Daisy squeaked as her grip on his arm was torn loose, and was only saved from toppling to the floor by Alvin.
The two of them stared, as Logan egressed in such haste that when he caught and ripped his shirt on a piece of protruding metal, he didn't even pause.
Daisy quivered and looked up. "Mr. Alvin, what's happening?" Then, in a very small voice, she added, "I'm scared."
Alvin just bit his lip and allowed her to snuffle into his robe. A little piece of him was glad for the company in this dark hour after the cold-shoulder he'd been shown by other members of their group. The events playing out on the bridge were only just beginning to sink in, and he found himself hugging Daisy back as if he were a child himself, lost in this sea of anger and pain.
"It'll be all right, little one," he whispered, stroking her feathers.
"It will?"
"Yes." He nodded. "It has to be."
*******************
Rogue was all set to be torn to shreds, and instinctively turned herself as far to the side as the licking flames would allow, using her own body as a shield for Robyn. The fire wasn't especially large, but since Wanda was obviously the one controlling it, Rogue was under no misapprehension that the maddened girl could also cause it to flare up at whim.
The heat around her ankles increased briefly, and Rogue braced herself for the final blow.
So it was a complete surprise when it didn't come. Even more so when the fire abruptly died, leaving nothing more than a rough circle of black.
Rogue waited a few seconds. Then she lifted her head.
Wanda's expression was something to behold. She looked confused, and her face showed in equal parts the traces of recognition, anger, and overwhelming sadness. As Rogue watched, the light behind her eyes dimmed, revealing vaguely glowing green irises framed by long black lashes untouched by the heat. The fire in them sputtered momentarily, divulging irises as blue as Pietro's.
Rogue blinked. There was something... familiar about that face. The angular cheekbones and cusping flesh stretched across struck a chord deep within her, yet somehow remained just out if reach of questing mental fingers.
The once-Goth inwardly searched, sorting through memories of faces in the hope that one of them would explain this curious feeling of... of fellowship blossoming somewhere in the region of her chest. Almost... camaraderie? But how could... she'd never met Wanda before in her life. Certainly, an all-powerful mutant with a bad temper wasn't someone you forgot in a hurry. Yet the odd feeling stayed at bay, taunting her and then slipping away again.
Wanda held her gaze, neither one of them looking away. It was as if a strand of consciousness existed between them; not as intimate as the twin-bond, but approaching it. One could almost see a wire leading from one girl to the other, wrapping around each of them and drawing them close. It transcended the anger Wanda felt, and Rogue's fear, numbing them both as they riffled through their memories; like they'd undergone some ordeal together, and were only just remembering the part the other played in it.
Rogue realised with a shock that her lips were moving soundlessly, forming words her voice didn't accompany.
_Who are you?_
Unbidden, Wanda reached out, but before her hand even touched Rogue's cheek there was a burst of blinding colour.
Running. She was running. Running like her life depended on it - which it would, if they caught her. She couldn't let them catch her - them. Not now. Not when they was so close to getting out. To being free.
Her bare feet thwacked the ground, which was uneven and stony. She'd already reached the outside world. She would *not* let them take her back - them back. Never. She'd waited too long and endured too much to have it snatched away now.
Dark sky stretched above her, speckled with stars. It'd been so long since she'd seen the sky - starry or otherwise. She saw her companion stumble, and marvelled that there was a stone to stumble over instead of the smooth flat surfaces of the lab. Metal was no substitute for proper earth, and she resisted the urge to fall to her knees and kiss it simply for being there.
She reached and grabbed, dragging the girl back up and forcing her on. A short glimpse of face. Scars like hers, but different. Strange hair. White stripe. She was running too. Running together. As one. Free together. Free as one.
Torchlight flared behind them, and the monotonous wailing of the siren reached a new pitch. But she didn't care. They wouldn't take her back now. Not now she was free. Not now they were free.
Free.
Freedom.
She was out. They were out. Away from the needles and shocks and knives. Away from the scalpels and collars and chains. She was a person again. They were people again, escaping together. Pelting side by side under the ever-indifferent moon. Liberated. Released.
Free!
*Free*!
Wanda yanked back, gasping and shaking her hand like she'd been burned. Rogue simply stood, heaving in lungfuls of air as several memories clicked back into place.
Wanda spoke; softly, almost gently. "Specimen 5930?" Her tone was hesitant, but brightened when Rogue nodded, slowly.
"7... 541," Rogue replied, remembering the number given to her cell-mate when they'd been denied names and forced to exist under the façade of codes as identities.
They gazed at each other for a moment, lost in memories they'd stored away in the nooks and crannies of their minds, or else been denied through the actions and presence of others. Audrey was a constant sticking point, but Rogue barely thought of her as she marvelled over not knowing this girl's name, despite the fact that they'd escaped the facility together. It was ironic in a way, but also deeply, deeply saddening in a manner she couldn't quite fathom.
The cry startled them both.
"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
Logan fell from the air, a living, breathing bullet tipped with adamantium claws. His face was a savage mask, and his yell was as close to a feral warcry as he'd ever unleashed.
Wanda shot backwards, throwing up her hands. At once there was a brilliant shaft of light that caught Logan directly in his chest, punching a hole through and sending him reeling through the air to land not twelve feet from Kurt's inert form.
Rogue found her tongue at last. "NO!" she screamed, and automatically lunged for Wanda's hands, trying to yank them away.
For a moment, Wanda's expression switched to one of fear, and then supreme concentration, as she visibly willed her power back into her. However, she either wasn't quick enough, or wasn't strong enough to do so, and though it didn't cause any lasting injury, the remnants threw Rogue back, dislodging Robyn from her arms as she rolled over and over in the blackened debris.
Another scream pierced the air.
Looking up, Rogue could see that Wanda was holding her head again, shaking it from side to side. Around her, her power fizzled and bubbled, ostensibly angry at being restrained. It wove into the air, grasping at emptiness as it sought to escape the confines of her body, all but tearing her apart in the process.
Presently, words became distinguishable amongst the anguished cries.
"No! No more! I don't want to hurt anymore! No more death! No more killing! No more of *this*! I... I.... YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHH!"
*******************
Pietro fumbled and dropped forwards, bracing himself against the ground with one hand. His chest still heaved, and his broken nose was beginning to ache painfully. Blood dripped and slithered into his eyes and he blinked, shaking away small droplets in an effort to see what was going on.
Clasped to his chest, the water-child still snuffled desolately, his entire body rigid with panic and fatigue. A few sots of red flicked onto him, and, without any real thought to what he was doing, Pietro reached up and brushed them away again, leaving trails of pink across his dry scales.
"Sorry kid," Pietro burbled. "Didn't mean to dirty you up none, I - uungh." Removing his hand from the ground proved to be a silly action, for it allowed the rest of him to sway, and his head very nearly pitched to the floor as his mind suddenly swam. There was a throbbing constantly going in his ears, and various aches and pains he'd been able to ignore whilst on the move now made themselves known about his person very clearly.
Lifting his face from the speedster's shoulder, the scaly kid peered with morbid curiosity. "You don't look so good," he informed him in a tiny voice.
Pietro allowed himself a small, incongruous smirk. "Thanks for the morale boost, kid. 'Preciate it."
The kid just kept up the permanently wary look, though the corners of his mouth twitched, and Pietro felt him unstiffen ever-so-slightly in his arms. However, he froze again like a statue as a heart-rending scream abruptly gashed the air wide open.
Neither of them could fully understand what was going on at first. The sight of Wanda once again seizing her skull confused them both, since mere moments ago she'd seemed to have a firm hold on her powers. In fact, it wasn't until Pietro received another jab of instructive empathy that he truly appreciated what was going on.
"She can't control it," he whispered, brushing a lock of reddened hair from his eyes to see better.
"Huh?" said the kid, turning inquiring eyes upon him.
"Her powers, they're too much for her. She never... never learned proper control, only bits and pieces. Only how to keep them contained. Now they're out, and she can't stop them. It's... It's killing her." His voice rose to a strangled whisper, and he struggled to his feet, only to sink down again.
The kid switched his gaze between Wanda and his odd redeemer several times, then bit his lip. "Why do you care?" he asked diffidently. "She tried to kill you. She wanted you dead."
"She's my sister," Pietro replied, not taking his eyes from her convulsing body. "And it's partly my fault that she's like this." His breath caught in his throat, and a thousand and one emotions ghosted over his face.
The kid looked at the two of them once more, spent a second considering something, and then struggled to free himself from Pietro's hold. The speedster joggled from his reverie as the scaly bundle wriggled free and stood, wobbling, on the ruined tarmac. For a moment he blanched, and looked as if he was going to faint, but then he schooled his face into a firm mask and said simply, "Go to her," with as much authority as he could muster.
"Kid - " Pietro began, but was stopped.
"Just... go to her. She needs you. She needs someone."
This time it was Pietro's turn to chew his bottom lip, and he vacillated just a microsecond more before exerting a fresh burst of strength to push himself to his feet and take his first, tottery step. Knees bowing slightly, he swivelled back to face the small child.
"Hey kid, just in case I don't make it, what's your name? It's not really 'Water Baby', is it?"
"I, uh - Ariel. My name's Ariel."
"Cute. I'm Pietro." And then he was gone, not quite speeding, but doing his darnedest to reach the mayhem as fast as he could.
Ariel watched him go before at last permitting himself the luxury of sitting down again. His backside hit the floor with a solid thump, but the twinge barely registered as he automatically drew spilled moisture from the wet ground in to cool his rattling gills. His eyes, on the other hand, remained fixed on the retreating not-quite-blonde figure, and the little water sprite, though not particularly religious, suddenly sent up a prayer to whatever god or deity chose to listen to him.
"Please let this turn out all right. Please..."
*******************
It was all Pietro could do to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, but do it he did, sheer determination driving him onwards where his flagging strength could not. He was aware of how walking, much less running, should be a smooth experience, not reduced to counting individual steps and the strain they cost him, as he was doing now. Every single muscle smarted and complained, but he told them to shut up and kept progressing gamely onwards despite their painful verbosity.
When he stood not a few yards from his sister, he stopped. His throat was scratchy and felt drier than a desert, but he managed to push out a few words. "Wanda, please, let me help you."
She didn't respond, and he wondered whether she'd heard him at all. He was all ready to call up again, when a sudden movement in his peripheral vision made him pause and turn his head.
Rogue had somehow gotten to her feet, and was now pottering around some distance away. Astonishingly, she was unhurt apart from a few cuts and bruises, and he saw her bend down at Kurt's side before looking up and yelling something. Something that gave a desperate edge to her voice. Something important. A name.
"Robyn!"
Robyn?
Pietro blinked. But Robyn was safe on the bus wasn't she? She was - no, wait, Rogue had been carrying her. That's right. And Rogue had left the bus with a clutch of blankets in her arms that could only have been Robyn. He remembered seeing that.
But... but if Rogue never went back to the bus, and had no such bundle now, then where was...?
Cold dread invaded his stomach, and for a moment Pietro forgot about everything; his injuries, the pain jolting through his twin-bond, the dreadful situation they were in - everything! It all paled in comparison to knowing where the sick little cat-girl was. She was still too weak to get herself out of immediate danger, and he was in doubt as to what would happen if Wanda's powers continued to run rampant without Robyn's ability to remove herself from harm.
He stumbled forwards, passing beneath the spot where Wanda hung like a broken marionette and calling urgently. "Robyn! Robyn, where are you?"
There was no answer, and he could've kicked himself. Of course she wouldn't reply. Poor Robyn had barely had enough strength to do anything but sleep since she fell ill. Even after Daisy brought the little healer, Robyn's energy was virtually nothing. There was no way she could shout to him, no matter how important doing so might be. He wondered whether she was even conscious.
Desperately, Pietro scanned the ground for a telltale collection of swaddling. Robyn was a small girl, but even so she shouldn't be especially difficult to spot in this smashed wasteland. He hoped.
He crested a mound of shattered asphalt and stood, wobbling and calling endlessly. For all the good it did him. He could hear Wanda still screaming behind him, and he was torn between the separate plights of his two sisters.
_I've done it again. I've fucking done it *again*!_
It appeared that no matter what he did, he would never make the cut in brotherhood. Never. He was a terrible sibling, and there seemed to be no getting away from the fact. Twice now, he'd failed a sister, and just when he had the potential chance to set things right with one, he went and screwed up with the other. He was hopeless. Why did the world keep on giving him siblings, when all he did was let them down? Wanda, Robyn, even the extended adoptive family he'd gained on this god-forsaken trip. He'd let them all down - perhaps even killed them - and all because he was a bad brother.
A mantra started up inside his head, and even though he tried to fight it back down, it echoed inside his skull.
_Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad brother. Bad -_
Wait!
What was that? Over there. Was that... yes! Yes, it was! He could see the corner of a tattered old blanket peeking out from behind a mound of torn up road, and recognised it instantly.
Nearly falling over in his haste, Pietro descended and started hurrying to the spot where, no doubt, Robyn lay. He prayed she was all right, and barely took any notice when his foot caught a piece of upturned earth, or when his chest suddenly began to twinge tellingly, or when another agonized screech punched a hole through the air above his head.
He did, however, notice when an sweep of green light flew violently past, very nearly clipping his ear. He also noticed when said light hit a bizarrely parked car with no roof at the side of the road, that had somehow managed to stay put when the wall of water fell. He noticed, too, when the car exploded, throwing him backwards and engulfing the area of bridge around it in a mixture of aggressive yellow and green flames.
The area of bridge where Robyn was.
"ROBYN!"
He was on his feet before he truly knew what he was doing, and dredging up the very last bit of energy stored deep inside him. His legs started to move, slowly at first, then building up pace, faster and faster, until he reached the edge of the blaze. The heat was severe, and he felt his eyebrows begin to singe off from the ash. The blood caking most of his face and hair dried on the move, and began to crackle and flake away as billows of hot air touched his skin.
Somewhere to his left he could hear Rogue shouting for him to stop, but there was no way he could do that now. He was too far-gone, caught up in his own speed and momentum. A momentum that consequently allowed him to burst through the wall of fire without sustaining too much damage.
What happened next was pure and utter instinct on Pietro's part. The fire was so brutal that there was little time for sentient thought other than _Must find Robyn,_ and his limbs moved seemingly of their own will to do just that.
The speedster scoured the rapidly burning ground until he saw the identifiable upturning of tarmac and bounded over. He could already feel his clothing start to smoke, even though he moved too fast for the fire to actually catch hold of him. A moving target was always harder to burn, and it wasn't until he paused that it got its chance to bite.
Sure enough, the bundle of blankets were there, and he hastily lifted them up, ignoring the pain the burning fabric incurred as he removed the unconscious little girl from it and held her tightly to his chest. Kicking the burning material aside, he picked a random direction, huddled her close, and moved off.
Pain like that of a severe lashing suddenly slashed across his shoulders as a tongue of fire finally licked his back, and he repressed the urge to scream. He could feel the edges of his shirt fall away as a charred hole opened up, lightly brushing the skin they'd exposed to the greedy conflagration. Tears welled unbidden in the corners of his eyes, but hissed away into steam before they could fall.
Clenching his jaw and using himself as a shield, Pietro hunched over Robyn's tiny form and barrelled forwards. He didn't know what direction he was going in, and could only trust to luck that he came out on the bridge and not so close to the smashed rail that he fell over it.
It was then that Fortune finally decided to smile over him. Whatever her reasons for abandoning the speedster and his party before, now she returned to beam down upon him, allowing him to exit the inferno onto a relatively unscathed patch of road where few obstacles stood in the way of his pounding feet.
Pietro powered out of the hungry blaze faster than a freight train, feet hitting the unburned road with a slight jar and revelling in the cooler air. Had his velocity not been quite so much he might have drunk in a breath to soothe his scorched lungs. As it was, had he tried to open his mouth he probably would've dislocated his jaw.
He sped along for several feet, before skidding to a halt in a bout of dust and minor debris. Then, last ebb of strength finally gone, he crumpled to his knees, and then his side, dimly aware of the small flames edging over his hip and smouldering in his hair. He felt empty, completely drained, and yet... somehow satisfied, and hung possessively on to Robyn's petite form.
"Not a bad brother... I'm... not..."
*******************
Rogue looked on, jaw very nearly reaching sea level. She watched helplessly as Pietro dove into the flames, and then again as he ran back out and collapsed on the floor, hugging what could only have been Robyn. She saw the trail of smoke he left behind him and the flames creeping up his burning clothes. She saw his reddened skin, and the faint waft of roasting meat reached her nostrils.
And she screamed for him.
"PIETRO!"
Ignoring her own minor discomfort, she stumbled over, yanking off the coat Kurt had salvaged for her to beat out the greenish teeth eating him. Pietro groaned when the fabric touched, and Rogue instantly dropped to her knees, grabbing his shoulders roughly.
"Pietro! Pietro, you idiot! Come on, say something! *Pietro*!"
For a second there was no response, and she shook him again. Briefly, his eyelids flickered, and she took that as a good sign, shaking him harder. Perhaps she wasn't meant to jostle him quite so much if he was hurt, but she knew enough about first aid that he had to stay awake. He *had* to.
"Pietro! Pietro, don't you dare pass out on me. Don't you *dare*!"
He mumbled, and she leaned closer, thinking he was trying to tell her something.
" 'M... good ... good brother... bro..."
"Sure you are, Speedy. But you ain't gonna be no good to nobody if you pass out. Come on, snap out of it. *Please*!"
Instead of answering, he let out a small sigh, and she felt his body start to go limp beneath her fingers.
_Oh no you don't!_
Impulsively, she drew back her hand and slapped him across his cheek. Hard.
One would think that after the beating he'd taken, one more smack wouldn't mean anything. Apparently, though, Pietro's nerve endings were still functioning enough to register the short, sharp burst of pain, and his eyes snapped open. As did his mouth.
"*Fuck*! What was *that* for, Rogue?"
"You absolute *cretin*, Pietro!" she grated, and then surprised them both by enveloping him in a grateful hug, only leaving off when her gloved hands skimmed the blistered patch on his back. Rocking back on her heels, Rogue sniffed and wiped hurriedly at her eyes.
"Don't you *ever* do anything like that again. You hear me? You could've - "
"Died?" He scrunched up his face, sitting jerkily up with more than a little help. "Yeah, I know. But I couldn't... I... Rogue, I've screwed up so many times. I couldn't let Robyn die. I just... She's not my sister by blood, but all of us - we're the closest she's got to proper family. I... I..."
Rogue stroked a hand through Robyn's matted hair and nodded. "I know," she said simply. Then softer, "I know."
Pietro looked down at the furry child and did likewise. It was as if, for a moment, nothing else in the world existed. This tiny spot in the middle of a ruined bridge was the entire universe, and he focussed on the moment with as much intensity as when he was using his powers.
"I just want to be a good brother," he whispered, more to himself than anything else.
Rogue looked up, but he avoided her eyes, shameful of the fact that he should long for something that should, by rights, be innate. She reached out and touched his chin, trying not to hurt the ugly blisters and welts and tipping his face toward her.
"If you really want it, then that's half the battle fought, ain't it?"
*******************
_... ain't it?_
If.
You.
Really.
_If you really..._
Wanda heard the words as if in a dream. They echoed inside her head, listened to by her twin and sent through their intrinsic link until she was all but convinced it was she sitting there on the ground, not up here being thrown to the winds by her own rampant powers.
Slowly, and with great effort, she opened her eyes.
Her world was green, and filled with light that crackled and burned with all the brilliance of a thousand stars. She could feel each jolt through her body, singeing her nerves and sending her blood singing with agony. But her tears had run dry, and her cries fallen silent. She was numb - beyond feeling. All she was truly aware of was the strange, ethereal voice coming from... somewhere.
_...want it..._
Want what? What was she supposed to want?
Revenge?
Maybe.
She'd wanted revenge for so long. Years. A whole lifetime. So long.
Yet, now she'd tasted it, the dish was strangely bitter on her tongue. Acrid. Caustic.
Was that how it was supposed to feel?
Somehow she'd thought that, since others seemed to enjoy giving her so much pain, it might be enjoyable to give some out herself for once. To see how it felt being on the other side of the divide.
Payback.
Evening the odds.
Revenge.
But it wasn't like that. Not at all.
Vengeance had only made her feel emptier, like there was a void in her heart growing steadily wider every time she sought to close it. She'd thought tracking down Pietro and making him suffer would alleviate her misery, but it hadn't. Not one bit. She felt even more miserable now than she had before, and something told her that it wasn't just because she was hurting physically. This feeling went deeper. Much deeper. Right to her soul - if she even had one.
Do murderers have souls?
_...then that's half the battle fought..._
Half a battle? She'd fought more than that today. She'd killed people. Taken them away from those they loved and who loved them.
Why?
Because she wanted them to feel just as lonely as she did?
But she didn't even know them. They were strangers.
The doctors had been strangers too, but that hadn't stopped them hurting her. She'd been so alone, so desperately lonely. Nobody had ever bothered themselves about her. Never.
Had they?
Fuzziness clouded her mind. She couldn't remember. God help her, she couldn't remember!
_...ain't it?_
What? *What*? Why was she doing this? Why had she come here? She couldn't remember anything but pain. There was more to her than that, surely? There had to be. People weren't only made up of hurting. Before the pain, a long time ago, she'd felt something else. Something... different.
Why couldn't she remember it? *Why*?
*WHY*?
A face. Pale skin, tired hair, eyes like blue chips of ice. Talking. To her? No. To another. Different link this time. That girl. She was projecting this. But how...?
_ I just want to be a good brother._
Pietro.
Brother.
Family.
Wanda suddenly realised what she'd been missing. That emptiness inside her could have been healed, but not the way she'd chosen to do it. She'd chosen the path of hatred and violence, and probably given up her own sanity and soul because of it.
She'd been lonely.
But so had he.
He'd talked to the dead because he was so lonely.
"P... Piet... tro."
Her mouth hurt, and she felt the corners of her lips crack, they were so dry. Something ran down the side of her chin from the split. Her head hurt, her mind ached, her soul felt crushed.
Yet at the same time... free.
The moment she'd taken that first step along this road, she'd signed her own future to dust. There was no turning back. Even if she could stop what was happening to her body, her spirit was too tarnished, now.
But perhaps by preventing herself from doing any more damage, from causing any more hurt, she could repent?
Maybe.
At least a little.
If she could just find enough inside her to do this one thing, then it would be better. All she had to do was try; try as hard as she could. She needed to do this. She needed to...
_ If you really want it, then that's half the battle fought, ain't it?_
"Yes," she whispered. "I guess it is."
*******************
Logan grunted as he got to his feet. Jeez, Speedy's sister could sure pack a wallop. Glancing down, he was graced with the sight of a rapidly closing hole in the middle of his chest. It hurt like hell, and he was sure that, even after he'd finished regrowing everything that needed regrowing, he'd ache for a month of Sundays to come. Had it been anybody else she'd hit, then undoubtedly they would've been dead right about now. Probably with half their insides splashed across the pavement. He, on the other hand, could get away with ripped clothing and a headache.
_Ah, the many benefits of healing factor._
Pulling himself upright, he looked down at the scene still playing out on the bridge. From what he could tell, Wanda's blast had actually managed to knock him out for a few minutes, because he sure as hell couldn't remember Rogue and Pietro huddled together with... was that *Robyn* in the kid's arms? Nor could he remember a flaming car wreck burning merrily at the side of the street.
A flash of movement just beyond the two teenagers suddenly caught his eye, and his mouth set into an even grimmer line than before as he saw what it was.
"Look out!"
Since they were the words he'd been intending to say himself, hearing them come from someone else's lips was slightly disconcerting, and he paused momentarily to see who'd shouted.
A small, golden child was on his hands and knees, yelling at the top of his lungs. Even from here, Logan could see the desperate look in his eyes, and so lent his own voice as well.
"Speedy! Stripes! Book it! She's coming back!"
*******************
Pietro looked up, instinctively bringing Robyn closer. Rogue did the same, laying a protective hand on the little girl's head as she stared up into Wanda's face.
Wanda's... smiling face.
Wanda was smiling?
And it wasn't the cruel, malicious smile she favoured either. This was a warm upturning of the lips, tinged with a curious melancholy that resounded in her eyes like a knell. She looked happy, yet simultaneously sombre. A discordant mix that made the both of them stop and stare, if only to gawp at the distinct lack of anger in her features.
She was still surrounded by the pulsing green light, and every now and then would flinch from being at the heart of it. Yet her face retained an aura of calm, and she smiled down at them with something approaching beatification.
"Pietro," she said, voice not really above a murmur but audible nonetheless. How it was possible escaped them, as they listened to her strangely sorrowful words. It was as if every scrap of anger had been cleansed away quite suddenly, and both of them blanched at the abrupt change.
Pietro cleared his throat. "Wanda, please... I wanna help you. You gotta believe me, I - "
Wanda held up a hand, effectively silencing him. "I didn't see it before," she said softly. "I guess I was too blinded by hate. Part of me didn't want to believe you. I was too stuck on making you pay for what happened." She shook her head and sighed. "I'm sorry Pietro. I'm sorry for... well, everything."
A small block of icy dread began to manifest in the pit of Pietro's stomach, and he narrowed his eyes at her. "What're you saying?" Why did she sound so resigned? Regretful, almost. He wanted to help her. Was that so bad?
Slowly, Wanda levitated higher into the air, moving sideways but keeping her eyes trained on her brother's face. Soon she hovered above the rail of the bridge, still smiling, and said in a small voice, "I wish things could've turned out differently. I remember before... before all of this." She waved a hand in the air, encompassing everything around them into the gesture. "I remember you once telling me to hold onto the present, and stop worrying about the future so much. You said each moment was precious. A gift. You were right. They are. I just wish we'd had more of them."
Pietro frowned. What she said sounded so familiar, and he wracked his brains trying to figure out where he'd heard something like that before.
All at once it came to him. Alvin's voice was like a breeze, flitting airily about his mind.
**Lady Luck meets Brother Time, precious moment ends in sorrow.**
"Wanda, *no*!" The words ripped from his throat unbidden, and Rogue whipped around to stare at him.
Still smiling, supreme concentration ghosted over Wanda's face for a moment, as she yanked the force that had been holding her up back into her body.
And plummeted like a stone to the water far below.
"No!" Pietro screamed, scrabbling to his feet. "NO! NO! *NO*!"
A loud splash was heard, even as he hobbled to the side, and Rogue jumped up to grab his arm and pull him back.
"Getoffme!" he spat, pushing her away. "Wanda! WANDA!"
"Pietro," Rogue said, gripping him again like an iron band. "Stop. Don't look, please."
"She might still be okay! She might - "
"Pietro -" There was something in her eye. It made the world blurry. "Nobody could've survived a fall like that."
"But she's my *sister*!"
"That's why you can't. You don't wanna see her... like that."
He stared at her for a moment, frozen in stone. There was a jolt inside his chest, like a cord snapping. Then his barriers crashed around him, and he broke down, tears spilling down his cheeks and sinking to his knees. Reflexively, his arms tightened around Robyn, and Rogue followed him down, allowing him to sob into her shoulder.
"Why?" he asked, breath hitching. "I was going to... to help her..."
"You couldn't, Speedy," said Rogue, holding back her own tears. She hadn't known Wanda like him, but finding the girl she'd escaped with, only to lose her again so quickly... it still stung. "Nobody could. And she knew it."
He cried harder, soaking the fabric of her shirt. Rogue looked up as a hand touched her other shoulder.
"Come on," Logan said gruffly. "This ain't no place for us no more."
Rogue nodded. "Just give him a minute, okay? He's been through a lot."
"We all have, princess." Logan turned his face towards the waiting bus, and then at the small golden figure watching them not ten feet away. "We all have."
*******************
To Be Continued...
*******************