Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.

Author's Notes: Yes, here comes another chapter for you all. Sorry to have keep you waiting; took a loooong vacation and thoroughly enjoyed myself at the beach. :D

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The day dragged on with all the speed of a dying snail. The wind had vanished from the sails of time, snatched away by the terrors of the afternoon, so that the minutes became hours and the hours became glimpses of infinity. Every beat of the second hand from the ragged old clock was the tolling of a bell. Whether it was a death knell or a prayer calling, none could be certain.

Emptiness invaded the house, and reality lost its' meaning. Neither Lance nor Wanda could explain it; they were trapped in a vortex of fear and worry, unable to function without the reassurance that Pietro would come back, that he would be all right, and that everything would return to normal.

The reassurance wasn't coming.

The silence became stagnant, dead, like the waters of some wretched bog, and the flies of impatience began buzzing restlessly over the muck. Lance cleared his throat, Wanda shifted restlessly… no sign of the speedster.

At last, weary acceptance dawned on them, along with the realization that nothing would be happening any time soon. With this came that momentary relief, and relaxation oozed steadily into their pores, dripping from an IV into their hungry veins.

"So…" Wanda said at last, arching her back and sitting up a little straighter. "How long have you known Pietro, anyway?"

Lance blinked calmly, half of him flabbergasted by the question and the other half grateful for it.

"I dunno…" he began vaguely. "A year, maybe?"

"Maybe?" Wanda chuckled, her eyes out the window and not looking at him.

"Yeah, well…" Lance fidgeted awkwardly, taking a deep breath before making the plunge into his confessions. "I had a rough life before I came to Bayville. I don't remember much of it… and I think I know why. I just kinda… blocked it, ya know?"

She nodded absently, half of her muttering darkly that yes, she knew what it was like to block bad memories, and the other half musing over what the heck he could possibly be talking about. The confusion assaulted her once more. Lance's rambling continued.

"I just shut it out. I don't remember it at all, actually. But I remember coming here… to Bayville, to the Brotherhood house. I remember meeting everyone. Todd, of course, he's unforgettable, isn't he? He latched onto me right away… kind of like he needed that kind of older brother figure to hold onto. For a while, it was just him and me. The two of us… kind of tough, you know? Kind of lonely… two kids with rough pasts and lonely hearts, thrown together for one hell of a ride."

The wind outside picked up, and light snow began to fall.

"Then came Fred. Man, he was like a rock. Real cold, real hard to talk to. He was hurting, we could both see it, and it just took some time to reach him. Todd got through to him in the end; the two sympathize with each other, ya know? It just clicked. Me, I look pretty normal and all of that. But they'll never look like regular people. That's why they have such great chemistry. Damned if I didn't see Todd riding on Freddy's back a few days ago. They're like… like…"

"The lion and the mouse." Wanda finished quietly.

Lance gave her a vacant smile, amused by that image and struck by the sincerity of it. That worked for him.

"And then came Pietro…"

His voice trailed off to let the impact of that statement sink in. 'Then came Pietro' was just as shocking and earth-shaking as saying 'Then came World War Two'; both were events that forever changed the lives of those involved.

"Man, that guy is a piece of work. I was watching TV, and the next thing I know, the remote is gone, there's a stranger sitting on the couch next to me, and he's surfing the channels at speeds I can't even comprehend. It was insane. Then he looks at me and says, 'What's with the hairdo? You look like a caveman.'"

Breaking off his narrative, he laughed shakily at his own amusing memories. Wanda smiled grimly as well; she could see her brother doing that entirely. It was his way.

"So after this charming introduction," she smiled. "I assume you two fought a lot."

"Actually, no! And that's the weird part!" He laughed again. "We got along great! I guess… I guess I needed someone who was smart to talk to. I needed someone to make me laugh, someone to make me think… And man, no one is spared from the wit of Quicksilver. He used everyone as a joke, and everything had an irony. In a way… he taught me to laugh at myself, when I did something stupid or we lost a fight. He helped us…"

"But there was something wrong, wasn't there?" Wanda asked softly.

"Something wrong… yeah, we all knew something was wrong. I thought he was bi-polar or some crazy mental problem, because that guy went on some serious mood swings! He plotted an entire intricate suicide aloud once, while we were all listening. I've never been so scared… He went on in this cold, mechanical voice about waiting till midnight and breaking something metal in half to use as a blade, and if that didn't work he would hang himself…"

"Oh damn."

Wanda's hoarse voice sliced through the conversation as she staggered forward out of her chair. Lurching to his feet, Lance leapt across the room and caught her sagging body in his arms, heaving her back into the chair and staring at her anxiously. She was shaking from head to foot, and her wide, wild eyes glanced furtively around the room.

"Breaking the tray! I was going to break the tray! Bend it in half! And the sheets… hanged with the sheets from the bed… this was my plan, my plan, I remember now… but why? Why would I commit suicide? Damn it… that was my plan, I remember it all, the tray, the hanging… midnight! I know this! He knew it! He knew the plan!"

The horror of before spiraled back tenfold as this revelation shattered over their heads. It broke like a thunderclap, smashing down on them like waves crashing brutally upon the rocks of shore.

But how…? Why? In all her confusion and searching, it had never occurred to her that she might have wanted to commit suicide. Had her life been that terrible? Had she blocked it out because of it? Was that why she couldn't remember? But no… that couldn't be…

Suddenly and violently a series of images flashed into her mind…

The streets passed in a dizzying blur, and then gradually melted away into empty fields, encased in ice and cocooned in memories of summer, the brittle and dead ground waiting desperately for spring.

The horizon stretched into the universe and beyond, the hazy grey sky supplying an endless cascade of snow, the flakes forming an intricate lace in the air.

Always, always, the feeling of intense loneliness, an aching desire to open up and let the heart be read, but then the feeling of mistrust and betrayal. Longing and sorrow… agony and suffering…

The snow fell harder.

Gasping, Wanda snapped back to the reality of the living room, her heartbeat racing and her pulse thundering in her ears.

"You okay…?"

Lance's worried voice filled her thoughts, and she turned a distracted gaze on him.

"Yeah… I'm fine. Just… trying to remember…"

Help me, please.

"Trying…"

Waving her hand, she stumbled to her feet and towards the stairs, her usual stoic neutrality in dreadful danger of slipping away, in danger of melting into tears or screaming at the agony of confusion.

"I think I'll take a nap or something…" she choked out, dragging herself up the stairs.

Down the hall she went, the walls closing in around her and her breath coming shorter and shorter. She came to the entrance of her room… and couldn't go in. No… not in there… a few more tottering steps and she was in Pietro's room…

Falling on the bed… inhaling his smell and feeling his presence… it was like an instant sedative. Arms curling around the pillow, she felt something crinkle under it. Pulling out the mystery object, she saw that it was a photograph.

A white-haired boy and a dark-haired girl, looking around four years old, smiled up at her, full of youthful innocence.  

Sleep claimed her… and she knew no more.

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