A/N: If you don't like the plot or pairings, then don't read.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Captain America: The Winter Soldier only my character/s
WORD COUNT: 1, 170
Chapter 20
The Pictures
Seph watched as Joey tore a streetlight from the cement and waved it about like it was nothing. Logan roared as he lunged for the young boy, but Joey was quicker in a flash of purple, disappeared from the spot he was in and reappeared right next to his Aunt, his eyes fading from their amethyst back to the sapphire, before dropping the light. They had also tested if he could control emotions like Seph could, but his power was a little different.
It came from his eyes.
(..)
Bobby looked deep into the glowing magenta eyes of Joseph's eyes, gazing into the different hues he could see reflecting like an amethyst gemstone. Charles moved closer to Seph and whispered, "Joey's eyes have a high-functioning hypnosis ability, it's similar to your aura when you completely transform, the way your flames draw in your opponent, Joseph's eyes have a similar ability, but it's much stronger, he's able to keep an adversary in that state for as long as he likes and he doesn't even need to try."
Seph nodded as Joey slowly tilted his head to the right, to which Bobby mimicked the movement, his eyes never leaving Joseph's before the young boy tilted his head toward the left, with Bobby following. "Could that become something else?"
"Yes, yes it could." Charles answered, "your empathic ability was only to be able to sense emotions before your power had been fully released, but now, you're able to access memories through emotion and you can manipulate their emotions easily and even take that in within yourself." He explained.
"Well, Joey always was a little hypnotic. His eyes always drew people in, my Mum would get lost in them for ages and whenever he moved, she did too. It's so similar, it scares me a little." Seph's breath shook a little, "okay, we gotta go onto the next test," Seph took a deep breath, "Joseph!" At his name, Joey's gaze tore from Bobby and his eyes snapped to his aunt, the dark violet fading back into crystal sapphire. "Let's move onto the next test, sweetheart."
Joey nodded and Bobby shook his head, the glassy film of his eyes sharpened as he came back to his senses and he looked to Seph, who nodded.
(..)
Joey bent over, resting his hands against his knees as he panted. "Take it easy, it looks like the teleportation takes it a lot out of you. Don't push yourself too hard with it." Seph gently rubbed his back as she helped him take sips of the cool water she had in her other hand, "small sips." She reminded.
Panting hard, Joey swept his sweaty hair from his eyes, the clumped waves stuck to his forehead as he sighed in exhaustion, "I'm doing good, yeah, Aunt Seph?"
"Very well, love. I'm proud of you." Seph smiled gently, fixing his hair.
"Take a break now, kid. You've outdone yourself." Logan said as the simulated street disappeared and they stood in the bare simulation room as Joseph sighed, settling down heavily on the ground, nodding as he sipped at the water.
Seph sighed, before nodding to Logan, "okay, my turn."
Joey watched as Seph and Logan sparred; sapphire eyes watching as Seph moved with perfect form and precision, her power enhanced the blows to the point where Logan couldn't even touch her. She had spent so much time training with Nat and Steve, that from the young woman who was riddled with PTSD and survivor's guilt over the death of her parents and twin, Persephone had become so strong and she was lethal.
Her hands glowed with imbued power as she focused the fire in her arms and legs to push more force into her blows. Hazel eyes fused into burning orange and her hair bled a deep, fire-engine red.
Joseph watched his aunt with wide eyes as she expertly blocked Logan's precise attacks and replied with incredible comebacks of her own.
His aunt was so cool!
(..)
The house was empty, the lights were off and the atmosphere was cold. The house was a graveyard of past and present memories, all melding together into the pictures that decorated the walls and tables, even the end-tables had pictures.
Pictures of people he had never seen, all smiling so brightly at him until he felt uncomfortable, more pictures of babies and toddlers, children and teenagers, grown into adults with families and partners and children. It was just so alien to him, all this happiness and warmth that obviously exuded through the captured memories of times long past. Black and white, pastel, warm tones, cold hues, dark, light and medium tones, shadows and highlights: the phrases sounded so similar in his head, but he couldn't place where they had been said, or by whose lips the words had been shaped. No voice to tell him who it was, no face to put a name to. No title. Nothing.
His heart tugged with a foreign emotion when he gazed upon a picture of the woman he had nearly strangled earlier in the day, it was of the pyrokinetic mutant with someone looking exactly like her. Twins. Sisters. Siblings. His heart wrenched once more at the thought of sisters, but he pushed it away. It was foreign. They had a young boy between them. The other mutant. A relative? The young boy who had thrown him into the lamppost with near to no effort. They were all in an embrace and they all smiled at him as if he belonged in the small group. The boy had the same smile.
It was ear-splitting and joyous.
He turned away to see the pyrokinetic once more, this time with a man. A blonde man. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Punk.
The word is foreign.
Punk.
Why does he think of that word when he sees that man?
Because that's what he is.
Punk. Artist. Stubborn punk.
Jerk.
He stumbles away from the photo, clutching at his temples and he can hear the faint call of one of the agents speaking into the military grade walkie-talkie, his eyes nervously moving to him and then back to the kitchen.
He can't hear what he's saying, but he knows what that look means.
Pain.
He doesn't know how he knows, but he does. He doesn't remember ever seeing that look on anyone's face before, but his body remembers it.
It fills him with fear. The fearless killing machine is fearful of that nervous flick of the agent's eyes.
Pictures.
It's the pictures.
Jerk, punk, friends, brother, sister, mutant, Barnes, Rogers, dame, doll, baby-
Melanie.