Disclaimer- I don't own anything you might find familiar.
Author's Note- Some swearing in here. I'm going to try to make this chapter seven pages at the least, so I'm going to have quite a few events in here and point-of-views. That's why the chapter is called Miscellaneous.
Chapter Five- Miscellaneous
The study was silent when Gambit finished his tale. The professor stared at Gambit intently and Scott looked doubtful. Rogue's face was kept carefully blank, and also the brand new X-Man Piotr Rasputin's. The others looked horrified and Logan just looked like Logan.
"Are you sure they were looking specifically for you, Remy?" asked the professor before the silence became too awkward.
Gambit took a long drag from his cigarette, "Well, if dere be anot'er le Diable Blanc that was from N'awlins, den dere might be a chance dey weren't after me."
"I should have guessed they'd be looking for *you* Gambit," Scott muttered to himself, but his statement didn't go unheard.
"What was dat, homme?" asked Gambit nonchalantly as he tapped his finger on the end of his cigarette, watching the ashes flutter into the ashtray that was put in there.
"I said," Scott boldly exclaimed louder, "that I should of guessed they'd be after you."
"Why's dat?" Gambit asked as he strolled from his spot where he was standing by the fireplace and sat next to Rogue on the couch. Rogue just stared at Scott, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"You're a criminal," Scott said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're a thief. I know that you have my credit card, and by the way, I would like that back. They'd want you to be done with. You're not good for anything but being an assassin. And some people wonder why you were kicked out of your own home."
Scott never got to finish saying everything he wanted, because a fist interrupted him and he fell on the floor, holding his bruising jaw.
"You bring dat up again, homme," Gambit whispered threateningly, "You get much worse. And I am no assassin."
"Enough," the professor said sternly, stopping the two from fighting further.
Logan caught their attention now, however. Cocking his head to the side, he let out a soft growl and popped his claws out, heading towards the door.
"Logan?" Ororo asked from her spot on one of the chairs.
"Stay here," came the reply as he walked out of the study and towards the direction of the stairs.
Downstairs they heard some shouts and furniture was being knocked over. The struggling soon stopped, however.
"Should Ah go an' see who Logan killed?" Rogue asked from next to Remy, turning around to face the door. Her hand rested on Gambit's knee as she did so and he smirked but didn't say anything.
The professor shook his head. "No, that is not necessary, Rogue."
Logan came up ten minutes later with Lance in front of him, who was looking all disheveled.
"Ah, Mr. Alvers," the professor said as he wheeled himself over to Lance. "What brings you here?"
"They took Pietro and Todd." He growled. "I want you to find them."
The professor raised an eyebrow. "Who took Pietro and Todd, Lance?"
"You know who," Lance snarled, and behind him Logan gave him a warning growl.
"Did the Friends of Humanity take them Lance?" The professor sighed looking at the young and angry mutant in front of him.
"If that's what they're called," Lance spat, "The ones that take them to concentration camps?"
Xavier nodded, rubbing a hand over his bald scalp. "Yes. The FoH took some of our mutants too, as you know."
"Well will you find Pietro and Todd? Use Cerebro?" Lance asked as calmly as he could, but he couldn't help but bare his teeth slightly.
"I can not help you, Lance," the professor sighed.
"Why not?!" Lance said in a near holler and he took a step closer to the crippled man. Scott took a few steps closer too as well as the blue mutant, Kurt Wagner. The professor told them telepathically to stay back.
"I cannot use Cerebro to locate them," the professor said calmly, his eyes never leaving Lance's face.
"You just don't want to help us," Lance whispered harshly, his voice and body quivering with anger, "You just want to use all your time looking for Grey and those other kids. You have to find Pietro and Todd!"
"Did the others agree with you coming here?" the professor asked, looking at Lance intently.
"I didn't tell them," Lance said quietly, looking away. His eyes flickered back to the professor and narrowed. "I didn't tell them because they'd over- react. You have to help me find them. Use Cerebro, anything. . ."
"Lance, I already told you, we cannot use Cerebro to find them," the professor repeated, staring at Lance.
Lance now closed the distance between him and the world's most powerful telepath. Gripping the armrests of the wheelchair until his knuckles turned white, Lance hissed, "You HAVE to find them."
"We will help you find your friends, Lance, but we cannot do so right away- "
"They're not my friends!" Lance shouted at the professor, making everyone in the room flinch slightly. Logan growled. "You HAVE to find them. You HAVE to find my brothers. Please."
Lance's face looked horribly sad for a moment, and he looked away and backed away from the professor. With a hoarse voice that trembled slightly, he pleaded with him. "Please."
"Lance, I already said I would help you. We are looking for the camp. There might be a chance that there are more, but it is probable that your brothers are at the same one my X-Men are at. I want to free all those mutants. I just can't use Cerebro because all of their powers have been turned off." The professor said with determination.
"Logan will escort you home, Lance. We do not want you captured also. Tell Wanda, Fred, and John of what happened to them. They deserve to know, Lance." And the professor watched as Lance silently backed away from him toward the door and left. Logan looked back at Charles Xavier for a moment and growled softly as he too exited the study.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lance could feel the stare of Wolverine between his shoulder blades as he drove home in his old and dented green jeep. He could hear the rumbling of the mutant's motorcycle as he followed him home to see if he arrived safely.
Lance scowled at nothing in particular. It wasn't like he couldn't take care of himself.
He could take care of himself. He always did.
He was angry to begin with. Seeing Gambit again, that just made his blood boil. Seeing Magneto's other lackey there, Colossus, it just made him more enraged. Now they were Xavier's little pawns for his stupid little 'dream'. Screw that dream, it is never going to happen.
He hated them. He hated the whole lot of them. He was angry at Kitty. Angry at her for breaking up with him. Angry with her for *dating* the metallic idiot. That huge bastard of a tin man.
He was even more indignant that Xavier thought he needed *Wolverine* to make sure he came home safe. He didn't NEED them. Except. . .
He needed them to find his brothers. He needed them to help him find Pietro and Todd. If anything ever happens to them. . .
"Get a grip, Alvers," Lance scolded himself. He shouldn't worry too much. They'll find Pietro and Todd.
He smiled slightly as he imagined what Todd would say: "Lance, you're fucked up, yo. Get a grip, man."
He imagined what Pietro would say: "Aww. Is the wittle Wancey scared? Does he need his mommy? Well pull yourself together, you big stupid Neanderthal! You're such a pussy. So pull you're shit together, because until you do, I don't know you."
And when Pietro would say that Lance would retort by saying: "I pretend I don't know you anyways, Pietro. So, it really doesn't bother me."
He laughed very quietly but it died almost instantly. He missed them. He only visited them a couple times while they were at jail, not knowing when they would get out.
He wondered why he stayed friends with Pietro for so long. It seemed that really all the speed demon did to Lance was call him names and insult him. Then Lance reminded himself that they had good times. They would prank together, fight each other, and get each other out of trouble. The only thing that had strained their friendship was the little 'incident' where Pietro had betrayed them. He understood in a way, it WAS his father, but that still didn't stop him from being angry with him. It took him and the others a long time to get over that.
Lance slowed down as he turned into the driveway of the battered-up boarding house. It looked a lot better than it did two years ago. John had somehow managed to get a low paying job, and Wanda did too. The only one who didn't work in the household was Freddy, and if Pietro and Todd were there and not in the camps, they would be unemployed too.
Lance slammed the door of his jeep shut and watch Logan turn around and head back towards the mansion. He smirked, thinking that Wolverine drove fifteen minutes just to turn right back when he got there.
Lance walked inside the house. The walls were now clean and the place was less dusty. They still had the same furniture because they couldn't afford different ones.
"I'm back," he called out to no one in particular.
He walked in the living room to see John sprawled out on one side of the couch with his head back and his mouth wide open. He was clutching his lighter. Freddy was sitting in his special chair, eating a huge salad bowl of cereal with milk dripping down his chin. He was in his old yellow robe that was scattered with red hearts and his feet were placed the old coffee table. Lance winced slightly as the table's legs wobbled a bit under the weight.
"Hi Lance," Fred said cheerfully as he switched the channel on the television. "How'd the visit go?"
"Fine," he lied. He'd tell them what happened when Wanda got home. Trying to sound casual he asked, "How was your day?"
"Oh it was good," Freddy exclaimed happily, absently waving his fat hand. "There was a lot a good shows on today and I made a couple of sandwiches. Wanda called and said she'd be coming late and John got fired again. Said he accidentally burned something."
Lance just sighed as he plopped down on the other side of the couch. He kicked John.
John stirred but did not wake up. Lance kicked him again, harder this time and then the pyromaniac yelped and jumped up.
"Wot the hell did you do that foah?" he asked with his Australian accent. When John was with the Acolytes, his accent was much thicker, but now it seemed to have lessened after spending a couple of years in the states.
"Why did you get fired again?" he angrily asked him. They couldn't afford to keep loosing jobs, sure they were better off than when they were first on their own but they still needed the money.
"Oh, I accidentally burned a spatula er sumtin," he yawned. Stretching his arms above his head he went to go back to his nap. Lance smirked slightly. He remembered a time when Pyro said 'Oy' instead of 'I'. The 'I' was still slightly accented though.
He wiped the smirk off his face and kicked John again. John snapped his blue eyes open and glared at him.
"Wot do you WANT?" he growled.
"You can't get fired for just burning a spatula, Pyro," Lance hissed at him. Pyro never liked to be called by his birth name. He said it reminded him of his crappy childhood.
"Awlroight, I burned down a small section of the place," John yawned again. Placing his hands on top of each other to make some sort of pillow, his lighter resting in between them, John placed his 'hand pillow' on the back of the couch and rested his head there.
Lance just stared at the schizophrenic pyromaniac and shook his head in disbelief. Couldn't the Aussie manage to keep one job by NOT burning down the place?
Lance made himself comfortable on the corner of the couch to take a nap himself. He had had a long day. Being yelled at by his boss, then driving three hours to see how Pietro and Todd were doing only to discover that they were gone. Then driving almost two and a half hours back to the X- Mansion, then another fifteen minutes back to the boarding house. Stuff like that could really tire a guy out.
Lance woke up two hours later. John was still passed out on the couch and Freddy had made himself another sandwich. He vaguely heard the front door open and then slammed shut. It must have been Wanda because someone was stomping angrily up the stairs. Wanda always got dressed when she got home because she didn't want to be seen in her yellow and white working clothes.
Fifteen minutes later they heard Wanda coming back down the stairs again and in that time Lance and Freddy decided to watch 'Home Improvement' on the television.
Wanda scowled at them as usual when she entered. "I had a bad day so don't even talk to me."
Lance sighed. Well, he was going to have to tell them all the bad news. He wondered if he would live through the night.
"Well, sorry to hear that Wanda, but I have to tell you all something," Lance inhaled and held his breath to see their reactions. Wanda was giving him a death glare, Freddy was chewing his sandwich, but staring at him all the same, and John was still sleeping. He kicked him.
"WOT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT NOW?!" He screamed angrily, bolting out of his sleeping position.
"I have to tell you all something," Lance sighed. He then looked at Wanda. "You should sit down."
"I'll stand, thank you," She said coldly. Lance took a deep breath and began.
"When I went to the jail earlier, Pietro and Todd weren't there. Trask and Gyrich took them. I went to the X-Men and asked if they would help me find them, and they said they would but they can't start right away." He paused and looked at their reactions. Freddy's sandwich was still in his mouth, but he never finished taking a bite. John's eyes were widened slightly and his mouth was hanging open. His face looked slightly dumb and confused. Wanda's face had paled considerably.
She closed her eyes slowly and took at deep breath. "Where were they taken to, Lance?" she asked softly.
"Concentration camp," Lance murmured and looked down at his hands. He heard Fred gasp and John swear. Wanda was silent.
Then suddenly the screen on the TV cracked and the insides of it exploded and the lights flickered slightly. The room started to tremble violently and Lance wasn't the one who was causing it.
John jumped up and ran over to Wanda. Wrapping his arms around her he whispered soothingly, "Shh it's okay, love. We'll find them. We'll find them and get them outta theah."
Two hot, pearly tears leaked out of Wanda's sapphire eyes. Resting her head against John's shoulder she said in a very dangerous and frightening tone, "If anything happens to my brother, they will be a victim to the full wrath of the Scarlet Witch."
"Yes, yes, love. And I'll burn 'em foah ya," John said. Wanda and John had dated very briefly before but they claimed that both of them were too crazy to be together, so they called it off. They still remained very good friends, however.
Lance had gotten up from his spot. "Don't worry, Wanda, I threatened Baldy if he didn't help us find them. We'll find them."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It had been three weeks since they had tattooed his arm. It had been four since he got there.
It was cold. It was so cold. . .
There was no heat in the cells. The materials of their gray bodysuits were ruff, and the tattoo they put on his arm burned.
Pietro shook in his corner of the cell as he gripped his left forearm, trying to make the pain subside. His teeth chattered. He cracked his eyes open.
Jean was sleeping in her spot in the corner. She hardly looked peaceful. Her once beautiful shining red hair was now matted and dirty. Pietro wondered how terrible he looked.
Pietro eyes searched the cell, as if looking for something. The only other occupant was Jean. Nala has long been gone, never to come back.
The place was filthy. A large bucket was over in the darkest corner of the cell, used for their waste. They both had a dirty metal bowl for their food and water. They were even allowed to brush their teeth. To cleanse themselves they were taken to a room once a week and hosed down with icy cold water.
Pietro's icy blue eyes, which long ago had hardened and grew cold, looked down at his forearm. He pushed up the rough fabric of the sleeve and looked at his number.
PM1040141
He would have to remember it. It was already engraved in his mind. PM1040141.
PM1040141.
PM1040141.
PM1040141.
For the first two weeks he had repeated it over and over again to himself. Jean had told him to if he wanted to live. Her and Nala's last cellmate had not remembered it and they never saw him again. There was more screaming that night than usual.
Pietro's mouth quirked up in a mirthless smirk. Now he was even more like his father than he even wanted to be. They both were in concentration camps and now they both have numbers on their arms.
The only thing different was that Pietro had a dull red colored barcode to the right of his number name.
Pietro's eyes flickered to Jean once again. He never thought that this would happen in a lifetime, but Pietro was growing quite fond of Jean. He needed a friend right now and who not better than his cellmate?
Pietro worried about Todd. He worried what they were doing to him. He worried how he was handling himself. It would all be all right if he knew Todd was fine.
Jean stirred slightly. Opening her blue-green eyes she looked over at the speedster and smiled weakly. "You should sleep too, you know. Take advantage."
Pietro just stared at her. "I can't sleep. I have to know if Toad is okay."
Jean straightened herself up in a sitting position. "He probably is." It was a lie, and they both knew it. Todd's case was just as bad as theirs.
"How could it change so suddenly? We were accepted once, although unwillingly, but we were accepted. What happened?" Pietro suddenly asked Jean. Their eyes met, and an understanding went between them.
Jean looked sadly at him. "Some people suddenly grew backbones. There are still humans out there that accept us. But right now, people like Trask are brainwashing them into thinking we are all psychopathic killers, when really, we're not. Our world's going through some drastic changes, Pietro, and we need to get used to it or die."
Pietro looked down at his hands, which were placed in his lap. He then muttered quietly, "And I thought it was bad enough when we were fighting Apocalypse. Now though, fighting him seems like a piece of cake compared to nowadays."
Jean sighed, "Somehow, I don't think that's the last we will ever hear of him. He'll come back, but right now, we can't afford him to. We're just not in the right shape or predicament."
Pietro sighed and turned his head to his right to face the stonewall beside him. "I miss being a young, arrogant adolescent with no cares in the world. Playing pranks on Kelly, bringing home hot girls, dating hot girls. I miss it all."
Jean was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I miss Scott. I miss all the X-Men. I miss my sister, my parents. Hey, I even miss fighting you guys."
Pietro smirked slightly. "Kelly's mayor. Next I'll bet he'll be senator. Wonder when that would happen?"
Jean laughed slightly. "When that happens, mutants will be in trouble indeed. Lets just hope Kelly's not going to be senator. Or worse, president. I was never fond of him for just hating mutants. It's not like we chose to be this way."
Pietro turned his head to face her and flashed her a ghost of a grin. "Oh, please, you just have a grudge against him because he took away all the soccer trophies you won for Bayville High."
Jean looked indignant. "I do not! Sure I was really upset with him, but that's not the reason! He was just really unfair with all of us."
Pietro snorted. "Sure, whatever you say, Grey."
Jean huffed and crossed her arms across her chest, resting her elbows on her knees and put on a fake pout.
Then a question that had been bugging Pietro for the longest time ever popped up in his head. He then looked at Jean and asked, "Why didn't you have a codename?"
Jean looked surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Pietro said, "why didn't you have a codename like all your other teammates?"
Jean looked thoughtful for a moment. "I did. Before Kurt came, that is. Only Scott, the Professor, and Beast know. I never told anybody else."
Pietro looked surprised. He raised an eyebrow. "What was it?" he asked.
The corner of Jean's mouth twitched. "Marvel Girl."
"Why didn't you have one when Fuzz-boy came?" Pietro asked curiously.
"Because I thought that it wasn't really necessary to have one. So I just went by the name my parents gave me." Jean said.
"Oh," was all Pietro could say. Then he asked, "Why would Beast know? I thought he came and joined you later?"
"He was part of the X-Men a few years before Kurt came. It was before he got all of his fur though. He left when me and Scott were sophomores."
"Oh," Pietro said lamely. "I didn't know that."
Jean smiled. "Well, you wouldn't would you? No one ever told anybody."
"When did Storm and Wolverine join?"
"Storm joined just a little while before Beast left. Wolverine came the summer before my junior year. He did stop by a couple of times before that, though. I was a little frightened of him at first. But really, he's just a big old softy. Don't ever let him hear you say that though, or you'll probably find yourself hanging from your thumbs on the ceiling in a dungeon."
"Yeah, well I kinda figured that," Pietro muttered.
A few moments passed by in a comfortable silence. Idly, Pietro fingered the metal collar around his neck. He would of gotten out of here a long time ago if it wasn't for the stupid collar. Around Jean's neck was one too.
"I dunno, but wearing these inhibitor collars kinda make me a bit claustrophobic," he stated as he twisted it around on his neck.
Jean just smiled slightly and turned to face the bars of the cell, watching whatever would be going on outside of the cell.
They needed to get out of there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- Well, here ya go folks! My longest, and best, I think, chapter yet. Over ten pages! 4,007 words, not counting the author notes and chapter title. Geesh, this was a lot of work. Remember to review! They keep me sane and alive!
Thanks for all who reviewed!
Author's Note- Some swearing in here. I'm going to try to make this chapter seven pages at the least, so I'm going to have quite a few events in here and point-of-views. That's why the chapter is called Miscellaneous.
Chapter Five- Miscellaneous
The study was silent when Gambit finished his tale. The professor stared at Gambit intently and Scott looked doubtful. Rogue's face was kept carefully blank, and also the brand new X-Man Piotr Rasputin's. The others looked horrified and Logan just looked like Logan.
"Are you sure they were looking specifically for you, Remy?" asked the professor before the silence became too awkward.
Gambit took a long drag from his cigarette, "Well, if dere be anot'er le Diable Blanc that was from N'awlins, den dere might be a chance dey weren't after me."
"I should have guessed they'd be looking for *you* Gambit," Scott muttered to himself, but his statement didn't go unheard.
"What was dat, homme?" asked Gambit nonchalantly as he tapped his finger on the end of his cigarette, watching the ashes flutter into the ashtray that was put in there.
"I said," Scott boldly exclaimed louder, "that I should of guessed they'd be after you."
"Why's dat?" Gambit asked as he strolled from his spot where he was standing by the fireplace and sat next to Rogue on the couch. Rogue just stared at Scott, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.
"You're a criminal," Scott said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're a thief. I know that you have my credit card, and by the way, I would like that back. They'd want you to be done with. You're not good for anything but being an assassin. And some people wonder why you were kicked out of your own home."
Scott never got to finish saying everything he wanted, because a fist interrupted him and he fell on the floor, holding his bruising jaw.
"You bring dat up again, homme," Gambit whispered threateningly, "You get much worse. And I am no assassin."
"Enough," the professor said sternly, stopping the two from fighting further.
Logan caught their attention now, however. Cocking his head to the side, he let out a soft growl and popped his claws out, heading towards the door.
"Logan?" Ororo asked from her spot on one of the chairs.
"Stay here," came the reply as he walked out of the study and towards the direction of the stairs.
Downstairs they heard some shouts and furniture was being knocked over. The struggling soon stopped, however.
"Should Ah go an' see who Logan killed?" Rogue asked from next to Remy, turning around to face the door. Her hand rested on Gambit's knee as she did so and he smirked but didn't say anything.
The professor shook his head. "No, that is not necessary, Rogue."
Logan came up ten minutes later with Lance in front of him, who was looking all disheveled.
"Ah, Mr. Alvers," the professor said as he wheeled himself over to Lance. "What brings you here?"
"They took Pietro and Todd." He growled. "I want you to find them."
The professor raised an eyebrow. "Who took Pietro and Todd, Lance?"
"You know who," Lance snarled, and behind him Logan gave him a warning growl.
"Did the Friends of Humanity take them Lance?" The professor sighed looking at the young and angry mutant in front of him.
"If that's what they're called," Lance spat, "The ones that take them to concentration camps?"
Xavier nodded, rubbing a hand over his bald scalp. "Yes. The FoH took some of our mutants too, as you know."
"Well will you find Pietro and Todd? Use Cerebro?" Lance asked as calmly as he could, but he couldn't help but bare his teeth slightly.
"I can not help you, Lance," the professor sighed.
"Why not?!" Lance said in a near holler and he took a step closer to the crippled man. Scott took a few steps closer too as well as the blue mutant, Kurt Wagner. The professor told them telepathically to stay back.
"I cannot use Cerebro to locate them," the professor said calmly, his eyes never leaving Lance's face.
"You just don't want to help us," Lance whispered harshly, his voice and body quivering with anger, "You just want to use all your time looking for Grey and those other kids. You have to find Pietro and Todd!"
"Did the others agree with you coming here?" the professor asked, looking at Lance intently.
"I didn't tell them," Lance said quietly, looking away. His eyes flickered back to the professor and narrowed. "I didn't tell them because they'd over- react. You have to help me find them. Use Cerebro, anything. . ."
"Lance, I already told you, we cannot use Cerebro to find them," the professor repeated, staring at Lance.
Lance now closed the distance between him and the world's most powerful telepath. Gripping the armrests of the wheelchair until his knuckles turned white, Lance hissed, "You HAVE to find them."
"We will help you find your friends, Lance, but we cannot do so right away- "
"They're not my friends!" Lance shouted at the professor, making everyone in the room flinch slightly. Logan growled. "You HAVE to find them. You HAVE to find my brothers. Please."
Lance's face looked horribly sad for a moment, and he looked away and backed away from the professor. With a hoarse voice that trembled slightly, he pleaded with him. "Please."
"Lance, I already said I would help you. We are looking for the camp. There might be a chance that there are more, but it is probable that your brothers are at the same one my X-Men are at. I want to free all those mutants. I just can't use Cerebro because all of their powers have been turned off." The professor said with determination.
"Logan will escort you home, Lance. We do not want you captured also. Tell Wanda, Fred, and John of what happened to them. They deserve to know, Lance." And the professor watched as Lance silently backed away from him toward the door and left. Logan looked back at Charles Xavier for a moment and growled softly as he too exited the study.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Lance could feel the stare of Wolverine between his shoulder blades as he drove home in his old and dented green jeep. He could hear the rumbling of the mutant's motorcycle as he followed him home to see if he arrived safely.
Lance scowled at nothing in particular. It wasn't like he couldn't take care of himself.
He could take care of himself. He always did.
He was angry to begin with. Seeing Gambit again, that just made his blood boil. Seeing Magneto's other lackey there, Colossus, it just made him more enraged. Now they were Xavier's little pawns for his stupid little 'dream'. Screw that dream, it is never going to happen.
He hated them. He hated the whole lot of them. He was angry at Kitty. Angry at her for breaking up with him. Angry with her for *dating* the metallic idiot. That huge bastard of a tin man.
He was even more indignant that Xavier thought he needed *Wolverine* to make sure he came home safe. He didn't NEED them. Except. . .
He needed them to find his brothers. He needed them to help him find Pietro and Todd. If anything ever happens to them. . .
"Get a grip, Alvers," Lance scolded himself. He shouldn't worry too much. They'll find Pietro and Todd.
He smiled slightly as he imagined what Todd would say: "Lance, you're fucked up, yo. Get a grip, man."
He imagined what Pietro would say: "Aww. Is the wittle Wancey scared? Does he need his mommy? Well pull yourself together, you big stupid Neanderthal! You're such a pussy. So pull you're shit together, because until you do, I don't know you."
And when Pietro would say that Lance would retort by saying: "I pretend I don't know you anyways, Pietro. So, it really doesn't bother me."
He laughed very quietly but it died almost instantly. He missed them. He only visited them a couple times while they were at jail, not knowing when they would get out.
He wondered why he stayed friends with Pietro for so long. It seemed that really all the speed demon did to Lance was call him names and insult him. Then Lance reminded himself that they had good times. They would prank together, fight each other, and get each other out of trouble. The only thing that had strained their friendship was the little 'incident' where Pietro had betrayed them. He understood in a way, it WAS his father, but that still didn't stop him from being angry with him. It took him and the others a long time to get over that.
Lance slowed down as he turned into the driveway of the battered-up boarding house. It looked a lot better than it did two years ago. John had somehow managed to get a low paying job, and Wanda did too. The only one who didn't work in the household was Freddy, and if Pietro and Todd were there and not in the camps, they would be unemployed too.
Lance slammed the door of his jeep shut and watch Logan turn around and head back towards the mansion. He smirked, thinking that Wolverine drove fifteen minutes just to turn right back when he got there.
Lance walked inside the house. The walls were now clean and the place was less dusty. They still had the same furniture because they couldn't afford different ones.
"I'm back," he called out to no one in particular.
He walked in the living room to see John sprawled out on one side of the couch with his head back and his mouth wide open. He was clutching his lighter. Freddy was sitting in his special chair, eating a huge salad bowl of cereal with milk dripping down his chin. He was in his old yellow robe that was scattered with red hearts and his feet were placed the old coffee table. Lance winced slightly as the table's legs wobbled a bit under the weight.
"Hi Lance," Fred said cheerfully as he switched the channel on the television. "How'd the visit go?"
"Fine," he lied. He'd tell them what happened when Wanda got home. Trying to sound casual he asked, "How was your day?"
"Oh it was good," Freddy exclaimed happily, absently waving his fat hand. "There was a lot a good shows on today and I made a couple of sandwiches. Wanda called and said she'd be coming late and John got fired again. Said he accidentally burned something."
Lance just sighed as he plopped down on the other side of the couch. He kicked John.
John stirred but did not wake up. Lance kicked him again, harder this time and then the pyromaniac yelped and jumped up.
"Wot the hell did you do that foah?" he asked with his Australian accent. When John was with the Acolytes, his accent was much thicker, but now it seemed to have lessened after spending a couple of years in the states.
"Why did you get fired again?" he angrily asked him. They couldn't afford to keep loosing jobs, sure they were better off than when they were first on their own but they still needed the money.
"Oh, I accidentally burned a spatula er sumtin," he yawned. Stretching his arms above his head he went to go back to his nap. Lance smirked slightly. He remembered a time when Pyro said 'Oy' instead of 'I'. The 'I' was still slightly accented though.
He wiped the smirk off his face and kicked John again. John snapped his blue eyes open and glared at him.
"Wot do you WANT?" he growled.
"You can't get fired for just burning a spatula, Pyro," Lance hissed at him. Pyro never liked to be called by his birth name. He said it reminded him of his crappy childhood.
"Awlroight, I burned down a small section of the place," John yawned again. Placing his hands on top of each other to make some sort of pillow, his lighter resting in between them, John placed his 'hand pillow' on the back of the couch and rested his head there.
Lance just stared at the schizophrenic pyromaniac and shook his head in disbelief. Couldn't the Aussie manage to keep one job by NOT burning down the place?
Lance made himself comfortable on the corner of the couch to take a nap himself. He had had a long day. Being yelled at by his boss, then driving three hours to see how Pietro and Todd were doing only to discover that they were gone. Then driving almost two and a half hours back to the X- Mansion, then another fifteen minutes back to the boarding house. Stuff like that could really tire a guy out.
Lance woke up two hours later. John was still passed out on the couch and Freddy had made himself another sandwich. He vaguely heard the front door open and then slammed shut. It must have been Wanda because someone was stomping angrily up the stairs. Wanda always got dressed when she got home because she didn't want to be seen in her yellow and white working clothes.
Fifteen minutes later they heard Wanda coming back down the stairs again and in that time Lance and Freddy decided to watch 'Home Improvement' on the television.
Wanda scowled at them as usual when she entered. "I had a bad day so don't even talk to me."
Lance sighed. Well, he was going to have to tell them all the bad news. He wondered if he would live through the night.
"Well, sorry to hear that Wanda, but I have to tell you all something," Lance inhaled and held his breath to see their reactions. Wanda was giving him a death glare, Freddy was chewing his sandwich, but staring at him all the same, and John was still sleeping. He kicked him.
"WOT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT NOW?!" He screamed angrily, bolting out of his sleeping position.
"I have to tell you all something," Lance sighed. He then looked at Wanda. "You should sit down."
"I'll stand, thank you," She said coldly. Lance took a deep breath and began.
"When I went to the jail earlier, Pietro and Todd weren't there. Trask and Gyrich took them. I went to the X-Men and asked if they would help me find them, and they said they would but they can't start right away." He paused and looked at their reactions. Freddy's sandwich was still in his mouth, but he never finished taking a bite. John's eyes were widened slightly and his mouth was hanging open. His face looked slightly dumb and confused. Wanda's face had paled considerably.
She closed her eyes slowly and took at deep breath. "Where were they taken to, Lance?" she asked softly.
"Concentration camp," Lance murmured and looked down at his hands. He heard Fred gasp and John swear. Wanda was silent.
Then suddenly the screen on the TV cracked and the insides of it exploded and the lights flickered slightly. The room started to tremble violently and Lance wasn't the one who was causing it.
John jumped up and ran over to Wanda. Wrapping his arms around her he whispered soothingly, "Shh it's okay, love. We'll find them. We'll find them and get them outta theah."
Two hot, pearly tears leaked out of Wanda's sapphire eyes. Resting her head against John's shoulder she said in a very dangerous and frightening tone, "If anything happens to my brother, they will be a victim to the full wrath of the Scarlet Witch."
"Yes, yes, love. And I'll burn 'em foah ya," John said. Wanda and John had dated very briefly before but they claimed that both of them were too crazy to be together, so they called it off. They still remained very good friends, however.
Lance had gotten up from his spot. "Don't worry, Wanda, I threatened Baldy if he didn't help us find them. We'll find them."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It had been three weeks since they had tattooed his arm. It had been four since he got there.
It was cold. It was so cold. . .
There was no heat in the cells. The materials of their gray bodysuits were ruff, and the tattoo they put on his arm burned.
Pietro shook in his corner of the cell as he gripped his left forearm, trying to make the pain subside. His teeth chattered. He cracked his eyes open.
Jean was sleeping in her spot in the corner. She hardly looked peaceful. Her once beautiful shining red hair was now matted and dirty. Pietro wondered how terrible he looked.
Pietro eyes searched the cell, as if looking for something. The only other occupant was Jean. Nala has long been gone, never to come back.
The place was filthy. A large bucket was over in the darkest corner of the cell, used for their waste. They both had a dirty metal bowl for their food and water. They were even allowed to brush their teeth. To cleanse themselves they were taken to a room once a week and hosed down with icy cold water.
Pietro's icy blue eyes, which long ago had hardened and grew cold, looked down at his forearm. He pushed up the rough fabric of the sleeve and looked at his number.
PM1040141
He would have to remember it. It was already engraved in his mind. PM1040141.
PM1040141.
PM1040141.
PM1040141.
For the first two weeks he had repeated it over and over again to himself. Jean had told him to if he wanted to live. Her and Nala's last cellmate had not remembered it and they never saw him again. There was more screaming that night than usual.
Pietro's mouth quirked up in a mirthless smirk. Now he was even more like his father than he even wanted to be. They both were in concentration camps and now they both have numbers on their arms.
The only thing different was that Pietro had a dull red colored barcode to the right of his number name.
Pietro's eyes flickered to Jean once again. He never thought that this would happen in a lifetime, but Pietro was growing quite fond of Jean. He needed a friend right now and who not better than his cellmate?
Pietro worried about Todd. He worried what they were doing to him. He worried how he was handling himself. It would all be all right if he knew Todd was fine.
Jean stirred slightly. Opening her blue-green eyes she looked over at the speedster and smiled weakly. "You should sleep too, you know. Take advantage."
Pietro just stared at her. "I can't sleep. I have to know if Toad is okay."
Jean straightened herself up in a sitting position. "He probably is." It was a lie, and they both knew it. Todd's case was just as bad as theirs.
"How could it change so suddenly? We were accepted once, although unwillingly, but we were accepted. What happened?" Pietro suddenly asked Jean. Their eyes met, and an understanding went between them.
Jean looked sadly at him. "Some people suddenly grew backbones. There are still humans out there that accept us. But right now, people like Trask are brainwashing them into thinking we are all psychopathic killers, when really, we're not. Our world's going through some drastic changes, Pietro, and we need to get used to it or die."
Pietro looked down at his hands, which were placed in his lap. He then muttered quietly, "And I thought it was bad enough when we were fighting Apocalypse. Now though, fighting him seems like a piece of cake compared to nowadays."
Jean sighed, "Somehow, I don't think that's the last we will ever hear of him. He'll come back, but right now, we can't afford him to. We're just not in the right shape or predicament."
Pietro sighed and turned his head to his right to face the stonewall beside him. "I miss being a young, arrogant adolescent with no cares in the world. Playing pranks on Kelly, bringing home hot girls, dating hot girls. I miss it all."
Jean was silent for a moment. Then she said, "I miss Scott. I miss all the X-Men. I miss my sister, my parents. Hey, I even miss fighting you guys."
Pietro smirked slightly. "Kelly's mayor. Next I'll bet he'll be senator. Wonder when that would happen?"
Jean laughed slightly. "When that happens, mutants will be in trouble indeed. Lets just hope Kelly's not going to be senator. Or worse, president. I was never fond of him for just hating mutants. It's not like we chose to be this way."
Pietro turned his head to face her and flashed her a ghost of a grin. "Oh, please, you just have a grudge against him because he took away all the soccer trophies you won for Bayville High."
Jean looked indignant. "I do not! Sure I was really upset with him, but that's not the reason! He was just really unfair with all of us."
Pietro snorted. "Sure, whatever you say, Grey."
Jean huffed and crossed her arms across her chest, resting her elbows on her knees and put on a fake pout.
Then a question that had been bugging Pietro for the longest time ever popped up in his head. He then looked at Jean and asked, "Why didn't you have a codename?"
Jean looked surprised. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," Pietro said, "why didn't you have a codename like all your other teammates?"
Jean looked thoughtful for a moment. "I did. Before Kurt came, that is. Only Scott, the Professor, and Beast know. I never told anybody else."
Pietro looked surprised. He raised an eyebrow. "What was it?" he asked.
The corner of Jean's mouth twitched. "Marvel Girl."
"Why didn't you have one when Fuzz-boy came?" Pietro asked curiously.
"Because I thought that it wasn't really necessary to have one. So I just went by the name my parents gave me." Jean said.
"Oh," was all Pietro could say. Then he asked, "Why would Beast know? I thought he came and joined you later?"
"He was part of the X-Men a few years before Kurt came. It was before he got all of his fur though. He left when me and Scott were sophomores."
"Oh," Pietro said lamely. "I didn't know that."
Jean smiled. "Well, you wouldn't would you? No one ever told anybody."
"When did Storm and Wolverine join?"
"Storm joined just a little while before Beast left. Wolverine came the summer before my junior year. He did stop by a couple of times before that, though. I was a little frightened of him at first. But really, he's just a big old softy. Don't ever let him hear you say that though, or you'll probably find yourself hanging from your thumbs on the ceiling in a dungeon."
"Yeah, well I kinda figured that," Pietro muttered.
A few moments passed by in a comfortable silence. Idly, Pietro fingered the metal collar around his neck. He would of gotten out of here a long time ago if it wasn't for the stupid collar. Around Jean's neck was one too.
"I dunno, but wearing these inhibitor collars kinda make me a bit claustrophobic," he stated as he twisted it around on his neck.
Jean just smiled slightly and turned to face the bars of the cell, watching whatever would be going on outside of the cell.
They needed to get out of there.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A/N- Well, here ya go folks! My longest, and best, I think, chapter yet. Over ten pages! 4,007 words, not counting the author notes and chapter title. Geesh, this was a lot of work. Remember to review! They keep me sane and alive!
Thanks for all who reviewed!