Disclaimer- You know the drill. I own nothing, I am not making any money
off of this, and I own all characters you do not recognize. X-Men belong to
Marvel. Not me. Marvel.
Summary- The Brotherhood is the first ones to be plagued with dreams. . .What are their fears?
Chapter Seven
Charles Xavier furrowed his brow as he looked at Cerebro. The mutant- finding machine picked up some powers VERY close to the Brotherhood Boarding House that did NOT belong to any of its members. The mutant was a shape-shifter and the professor very much doubted that it was Mystique.
"Found something, Chuck?" he heard Wolverine say behind him.
"Logan, Cerebro has sensed a shape-shifter by the Brotherhood," the professor said.
Logan idly lit a cigar, "Could be Mystique," he said matter-of-factly.
The professor shook his head, "No, no. It wasn't Mystique . . ."
Logan raised an eyebrow, "You think it's the guy?"
"I-I don't know," murmured the professor, staring at the screen. "Mystique's shape-shifting powers are more advanced. This one is not quite as powerful. There was also something else, but Cerebro could not get a clear reading on it."
"So whattaya gonna do?" Logan asked. He puffed on his cigar.
The professor turned his wheelchair around to face Logan, "I'm going to watch over them. Tonight, I'll sense if their dreams have any distress in them. I need to sleep now though if I am going to do that. I need to be awake to concentrate."
Logan puffed on his cigar again, "Whatever ya say, Chuck."
"Yes, yes. I am going to take a nap. Wake me up at ten o'clock, Logan," he started to wheel his way out of the room but then stopped at the door. "Oh, and Logan?"
"Yeah?" Logan asked gruffly.
"You know not to smoke that in here. Please go outside with that thing," and the Professor wheeled his way out of the room. Logan growled.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Logan walked down the hallway to the kitchen when he saw Bobby Drake eating. He growled and walked quickly towards him. Bobby looked up and gave a squeak and tried to make a mad dash for it.
"Hold it right there, bub," Logan growled and Bobby froze in place, looking very frightened.
"Think you could skip this morning's Danger Room sessions, didja, Ice- cube?" He snarled at the shaking Iceman.
"Well-well, you s-see," he stuttered out.
"No, I don't want to see. You got extra training sessions fer four weeks. Next time, think before doing something stupid." And Logan walked out the door in a very bad mood.
Kurt looked at Bobby as he slowly sat back down and shook his head, "You actually vere stupid enough to skip Mr. Logan's training sessions?"
Bobby just glared back at him.
"Aw, Kurt, come on. Like, give the kid a break," Kitty laughed as she got up and started walking out of the kitchen. Kurt followed her.
"Vell he vas being stupid! You don't skip anything that is being taught by Logan!" Bobby heard Kurt say as they exited the kitchen. He scowled at his plate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He was laying down on something flat and cool. He groaned, turning his head to the side and slowly blinked his eyes open. The cold cerulean blue eyes saw white.
Pietro started feeling with his fingers what he lay on. The surface was cool and smooth. It was metal.
Slowly he sat up and put his legs over the side of the metal surface. The room was white. The ceiling, the walls, the cabinets, they were all white.
Running a hand through his hair he noticed on his wrist was some sort of plastic bracelet you wear when you're at the hospital. His eyes widened slightly.
He looked down at the clothing he was wearing. He was wearing some sort of white hospital gown. Pietro never wears white unless. . .
Unless his father was experimenting on them. . .
Pietro gave a yelp of fright and it echoed throughout the room. He clamped a hand over his mouth and looked around the room again. Next to the thing he lay on was a tray with scalpels on it . . .
But Father never used scalpels. The concept of cutting his children open never appealed much to him. So he never used scalpels.
Pietro slid off from where he was laying before and his bare feet hit the cool, white, tile.
He stumbled to the door, his hand outstretched to the doorknob. He grabbed it and turned it, pushing the door open with a little more force than what was necessary.
Half standing in the room and in the white hall, Pietro looked back at the scalpels. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
'Wanda are you having this dream? Is this what the asylum looked like? Did they use scalpels on you?!' he thought to himself. He did not know why, but panic began to rise in his chest.
There were many doors down the hallway and each of them had windows. He tried not to look inside at the other white rooms with more sharp scalpels . . .
But he could not help himself. Stopping in front of one of the doors, he peered inside the window.
What he saw made his blood freeze.
Inside were people that looked like doctors, with white scrubs on and white masks. There were seven of them and on the metal operating table was a person. Three men on each side held the figure down, but it was still thrashing and writhing and Pietro was sure that it was screaming.
Then he saw something that made his stomach upset and he could taste the bile in his throat. One of the doctors or whatever they are, leaned in to the patient, or victim, and looking at its stomach, he took a small scalpel and touched it to the delicate skin. He moved his hand and Pietro saw him slicing the person open. Blood was oozing from the person's stomach and he saw the person jump and thrash and writhe in pain. Then he saw the person's face. Her mouth was stretched wide in a scream and tears were leaking out of her eyes that were screwed up.
But that was not what made Pietro's heart stop thumping. It was who the person was.
It was Wanda.
Suddenly Pietro felt not only afraid, but now he was angry. Anger so powerful that he no longer feared those men inside like he did before. He pounded on the door and tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He threw himself at the door, his shoulder crashed into it and he hurt it, but that did not matter. Wanda was in there, and he had to get her out. The door did not budge. The men with the scalpels didn't even notice he was out there.
Helplessness seized him and he dropped to his knees and put his face in his hands, letting the tears leak out of his eyes. He could hear the screaming now, and his chest hurt every time she screamed. Then suddenly, it was silenced.
"Oh, God, Wanda . . ." he whispered. He heard the men inside walking around. They must be done.
Pietro forced himself to stand on his feet, and he began to run. He was running so slow . . .
Why couldn't he run normally?
But he still ran and he turned right, ran, turned left, ran, straight, ran, left, right, left, left, right, straight. Stop.
He fell to his knees, sobbing, whispering over and over again, "I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm so so sorry! Oh, God I'm so sorry!"
Then he froze again. Chills went down his spine. His heart was thumping so loudly that he couldn't hear anything else that was around him. Except . . .
"Pietro," a voice whispered. Pietro gave a quiet whimper.
"Pietro," the voice rattled, and it was louder this time.
"Pietro." Louder.
"Pietro." Louder . . .
"Pietro." Oh, God, STOP!
Pietro sat bolt upright in his bed. The sheets and his pajama pants and T- shirt were soaked with sweat. His hair was sopping wet and his face was mingled with sweat and tears. His shoulder was sore and he massaged it a little. The tears did not stop coming.
Slowly and numbly, he pulled the blankets off of himself and got out of bed. Quickly, he changed into dry clothes. When he was done with that he opened the door and walked down the hall towards Wanda's room.
He slowly opened the door a crack and peaked in. When he was assured that Wanda was asleep, because he would have been dead if she was not because he was in her room, he tip-toed inside.
He looked down at her face and lowered his until it was about three inches away from hers. She was still breathing but her face looked a little troubled. She probably sensed that he had a nightmare.
Her blue eyes snapped open and he gasped and flew back away from her.
"What are you doing in my room," she asked groggily, but she still sounded dangerous.
"Jus-just checking to see if you were all right," he murmured quietly and zipped out of the room in a blur. Wanda looked at the door he exited and had a confused look on her face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Professor Charles Xavier was sweating slightly as he just finished scanning Quicksilver's dream. He knew that it was not a normal one.
He heard a knock on his bedroom door and knew it was Logan. "Come in, Logan," He called.
Logan came in and stood next to the professor by the window. "Alright, Chuck?" he asked.
"Quicksilver had a dream. It was so graphic and vivid . . ." he trailed off and looked at Logan.
Wolverine's eyes widened slightly, "What happened? Did he . . .?"
But the professor shook his head. "No, he didn't die. He was the only one who had a nightmare. He does not get them often, I think, and when he does get them, it's not what he dreamed about tonight."
Logan nodded, "I'll go scout around their house. Don't worry, I won't be seen."
And he walked out the door with the professor looking after him, worrying about the safety of all the children, even the Brotherhood.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- How'd you like this chapter? I'm quite proud of Quicksilver's dream. Very nightmarish.
Well anyways thanks for the reviews! And R&R! Check out my other stories too!
Summary- The Brotherhood is the first ones to be plagued with dreams. . .What are their fears?
Chapter Seven
Charles Xavier furrowed his brow as he looked at Cerebro. The mutant- finding machine picked up some powers VERY close to the Brotherhood Boarding House that did NOT belong to any of its members. The mutant was a shape-shifter and the professor very much doubted that it was Mystique.
"Found something, Chuck?" he heard Wolverine say behind him.
"Logan, Cerebro has sensed a shape-shifter by the Brotherhood," the professor said.
Logan idly lit a cigar, "Could be Mystique," he said matter-of-factly.
The professor shook his head, "No, no. It wasn't Mystique . . ."
Logan raised an eyebrow, "You think it's the guy?"
"I-I don't know," murmured the professor, staring at the screen. "Mystique's shape-shifting powers are more advanced. This one is not quite as powerful. There was also something else, but Cerebro could not get a clear reading on it."
"So whattaya gonna do?" Logan asked. He puffed on his cigar.
The professor turned his wheelchair around to face Logan, "I'm going to watch over them. Tonight, I'll sense if their dreams have any distress in them. I need to sleep now though if I am going to do that. I need to be awake to concentrate."
Logan puffed on his cigar again, "Whatever ya say, Chuck."
"Yes, yes. I am going to take a nap. Wake me up at ten o'clock, Logan," he started to wheel his way out of the room but then stopped at the door. "Oh, and Logan?"
"Yeah?" Logan asked gruffly.
"You know not to smoke that in here. Please go outside with that thing," and the Professor wheeled his way out of the room. Logan growled.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Logan walked down the hallway to the kitchen when he saw Bobby Drake eating. He growled and walked quickly towards him. Bobby looked up and gave a squeak and tried to make a mad dash for it.
"Hold it right there, bub," Logan growled and Bobby froze in place, looking very frightened.
"Think you could skip this morning's Danger Room sessions, didja, Ice- cube?" He snarled at the shaking Iceman.
"Well-well, you s-see," he stuttered out.
"No, I don't want to see. You got extra training sessions fer four weeks. Next time, think before doing something stupid." And Logan walked out the door in a very bad mood.
Kurt looked at Bobby as he slowly sat back down and shook his head, "You actually vere stupid enough to skip Mr. Logan's training sessions?"
Bobby just glared back at him.
"Aw, Kurt, come on. Like, give the kid a break," Kitty laughed as she got up and started walking out of the kitchen. Kurt followed her.
"Vell he vas being stupid! You don't skip anything that is being taught by Logan!" Bobby heard Kurt say as they exited the kitchen. He scowled at his plate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He was laying down on something flat and cool. He groaned, turning his head to the side and slowly blinked his eyes open. The cold cerulean blue eyes saw white.
Pietro started feeling with his fingers what he lay on. The surface was cool and smooth. It was metal.
Slowly he sat up and put his legs over the side of the metal surface. The room was white. The ceiling, the walls, the cabinets, they were all white.
Running a hand through his hair he noticed on his wrist was some sort of plastic bracelet you wear when you're at the hospital. His eyes widened slightly.
He looked down at the clothing he was wearing. He was wearing some sort of white hospital gown. Pietro never wears white unless. . .
Unless his father was experimenting on them. . .
Pietro gave a yelp of fright and it echoed throughout the room. He clamped a hand over his mouth and looked around the room again. Next to the thing he lay on was a tray with scalpels on it . . .
But Father never used scalpels. The concept of cutting his children open never appealed much to him. So he never used scalpels.
Pietro slid off from where he was laying before and his bare feet hit the cool, white, tile.
He stumbled to the door, his hand outstretched to the doorknob. He grabbed it and turned it, pushing the door open with a little more force than what was necessary.
Half standing in the room and in the white hall, Pietro looked back at the scalpels. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head and stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him.
'Wanda are you having this dream? Is this what the asylum looked like? Did they use scalpels on you?!' he thought to himself. He did not know why, but panic began to rise in his chest.
There were many doors down the hallway and each of them had windows. He tried not to look inside at the other white rooms with more sharp scalpels . . .
But he could not help himself. Stopping in front of one of the doors, he peered inside the window.
What he saw made his blood freeze.
Inside were people that looked like doctors, with white scrubs on and white masks. There were seven of them and on the metal operating table was a person. Three men on each side held the figure down, but it was still thrashing and writhing and Pietro was sure that it was screaming.
Then he saw something that made his stomach upset and he could taste the bile in his throat. One of the doctors or whatever they are, leaned in to the patient, or victim, and looking at its stomach, he took a small scalpel and touched it to the delicate skin. He moved his hand and Pietro saw him slicing the person open. Blood was oozing from the person's stomach and he saw the person jump and thrash and writhe in pain. Then he saw the person's face. Her mouth was stretched wide in a scream and tears were leaking out of her eyes that were screwed up.
But that was not what made Pietro's heart stop thumping. It was who the person was.
It was Wanda.
Suddenly Pietro felt not only afraid, but now he was angry. Anger so powerful that he no longer feared those men inside like he did before. He pounded on the door and tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked. He threw himself at the door, his shoulder crashed into it and he hurt it, but that did not matter. Wanda was in there, and he had to get her out. The door did not budge. The men with the scalpels didn't even notice he was out there.
Helplessness seized him and he dropped to his knees and put his face in his hands, letting the tears leak out of his eyes. He could hear the screaming now, and his chest hurt every time she screamed. Then suddenly, it was silenced.
"Oh, God, Wanda . . ." he whispered. He heard the men inside walking around. They must be done.
Pietro forced himself to stand on his feet, and he began to run. He was running so slow . . .
Why couldn't he run normally?
But he still ran and he turned right, ran, turned left, ran, straight, ran, left, right, left, left, right, straight. Stop.
He fell to his knees, sobbing, whispering over and over again, "I'm sorry, Wanda. I'm so so sorry! Oh, God I'm so sorry!"
Then he froze again. Chills went down his spine. His heart was thumping so loudly that he couldn't hear anything else that was around him. Except . . .
"Pietro," a voice whispered. Pietro gave a quiet whimper.
"Pietro," the voice rattled, and it was louder this time.
"Pietro." Louder.
"Pietro." Louder . . .
"Pietro." Oh, God, STOP!
Pietro sat bolt upright in his bed. The sheets and his pajama pants and T- shirt were soaked with sweat. His hair was sopping wet and his face was mingled with sweat and tears. His shoulder was sore and he massaged it a little. The tears did not stop coming.
Slowly and numbly, he pulled the blankets off of himself and got out of bed. Quickly, he changed into dry clothes. When he was done with that he opened the door and walked down the hall towards Wanda's room.
He slowly opened the door a crack and peaked in. When he was assured that Wanda was asleep, because he would have been dead if she was not because he was in her room, he tip-toed inside.
He looked down at her face and lowered his until it was about three inches away from hers. She was still breathing but her face looked a little troubled. She probably sensed that he had a nightmare.
Her blue eyes snapped open and he gasped and flew back away from her.
"What are you doing in my room," she asked groggily, but she still sounded dangerous.
"Jus-just checking to see if you were all right," he murmured quietly and zipped out of the room in a blur. Wanda looked at the door he exited and had a confused look on her face.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Professor Charles Xavier was sweating slightly as he just finished scanning Quicksilver's dream. He knew that it was not a normal one.
He heard a knock on his bedroom door and knew it was Logan. "Come in, Logan," He called.
Logan came in and stood next to the professor by the window. "Alright, Chuck?" he asked.
"Quicksilver had a dream. It was so graphic and vivid . . ." he trailed off and looked at Logan.
Wolverine's eyes widened slightly, "What happened? Did he . . .?"
But the professor shook his head. "No, he didn't die. He was the only one who had a nightmare. He does not get them often, I think, and when he does get them, it's not what he dreamed about tonight."
Logan nodded, "I'll go scout around their house. Don't worry, I won't be seen."
And he walked out the door with the professor looking after him, worrying about the safety of all the children, even the Brotherhood.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- How'd you like this chapter? I'm quite proud of Quicksilver's dream. Very nightmarish.
Well anyways thanks for the reviews! And R&R! Check out my other stories too!
