Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.

Author's Notes: I sincerely apologize for the lateness of this chapter. Life has been crazy. But here I am, with another chapter/offering. You reviews encourage me greatly and make me smile. Thank you all.

And I know all of you want to see another first-person POV chapter, but I'd like to scatter them throughout the story.

A slight note to the content of this chapter; this story is not going to turn into a romance. However, desperate times draw people towards each other. It is only a small facet of this tale.

~

And so it was that the afternoon passed in the suspended, dragging sense of time that befalls those trapped in a nightmare. Only there was no waking up, and all of them had to suffer through the hours in their own individual way.

Fred sat silently in the living room, the TV on but his eyes focused on something else, some far distant point. It was up and beyond, past the clouds, past the sun, and it was all his. If only he could get there… Nobody could see it. Not even him. But he could sure try.

Todd climbed the tree in the backyard and sat up there, listening to the wind and feeling it tug at his sleeves and hair, beckoning him to just hop up and join it, take off into the sky like a bird. All he had to do was jump. And yet that tenacious, stubborn side that had kept him alive all these years kept him firmly rooted to the tree branch, too cowardly to take the final plunge.

Lance went for a walk, watching the ice, watching the clouds building overhead and promising a nice snow for November. The birds flew overhead, sometimes in long, lazy swoops, but other times their wings pounding frantically as they zoomed towards the horizon, hardly in the line of his vision before they were gone again. And still other birds nestled desperately in the skeletal remains of the trees, drawing in on themselves against the bitter winds.

The fact that he went for a walk was not unusual.

But the fact that Wanda went with him was.

They went side-by-side, silent as stone; both of them in their own worlds and thinking of their own separate things. And still in their weary silence, electricity sparked between them, the emotions of two people pushed past the limits of all reason.

Only when their fingers brushed did they look at each other.

And even then they went right back to how they were. Such was their way, ice, rock, two things cold and beyond reach. But with that touch, a bit of the ice was melted, a bit of the rock was chipped away, and so there was hope.

Pietro spent the afternoon alone, past the reach of all aid, sealed in his room as though closing himself into a tomb fit for a pharaoh. The walls seemed to be closing in around him, his heart was thundering in his ears, and his senses were working at an alarming rate of sensitivity. He heard the cars driving along the big road three miles away, he could smell the food cooking in the diner six blocks down the street and around the corner. There was nothing he could do but crawl under the blankets of his bed and try to shut it all out, quivering every time a new noise assaulted him.

But no matter how hard he tried to fall asleep, he felt strangely sharp and punctuated, and something inside told him he never needed to sleep again, that he could keep on running till it killed him.

~

The sound of the birds singing had an odd, echoing effect on the cold, cold day. The birds flew over the house that hid Fred from the world. They flew past the window into Pietro's room, their song sending a thousand shattering vibrations in his eardrums. They flew over the big tree, unaware of the melancholy green eyes that traced their flight. And at last they flew past two figures wandering down an icy, forgotten road.

Both Lance and Wanda were startled when the birds darted so close to them, scarcely three feet over their heads as they shot across the sky, into the sun as it sank lower towards the horizon.

Lance turned a half-smile on his companion.

"Those birds sure looked in a hurry."

"Going south for the winter?" Wanda mused.

"They're heading west."

"Must be lost." She muttered. "Like us."

"We're not lost."

"I haven't seen a map or anything. How can you be so sure you're going the right way?"

"Life is an obstacle course, and it's up to you to find the way through it."

"What a philosophy. I know plenty of people who I wouldn't trust to find their way through a parking lot, let alone an obstacle course."

"But everyone finds their own way out."

"Yeah, take Pietro. He couldn't find a way out, so he's decided to throw himself off a cliff."

"Don't talk like that, Wanda."

"Oh, that's not the worst part. Get this: I'm tied to him, so guess who gets dragged over the edge with him?"

Lance abruptly stopped their walking and grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around so that her stormy, angry eyes were looking right into his tormented, exhausted ones.

"Look," he said roughly. "No one is diving off any cliff while I'm around."

"Yeah, well, ever heard of a Kamikaze pilot? It's a wacky guy who just gets sick of living, but rather than commit suicide quietly and hang himself or something, he figures he might as well go out with a bang and blow himself to smithereens, taking as many with him in the process. Wanna know something? Pietro is one of those guys. He's gonna smash himself to pieces and no one can stop him. We all just happen to be tethered to the back of his plane."

Voice harsh and dry, out of breath, she finished her tirade and simply stared at him, panting for air, her eyes blazing with defiance and yet aching for some sort of reassurance.

On a sudden impulse that he'd never felt in his life, Lance swept her into his arms and embraced her fiercely, desperately, as though trying to hold onto her thin body so she wouldn't be blown away by some powerful wind. She threw her arms around his waist, clutching, holding onto someone, anyone who could stop this madness. Her face was buried in his shoulder as he rocked her back and forth, trying to think of something to say.

"I won't let him die."

"It's too late for that…" There were tears in her voice.

"Then I won't let him take you down, too."

She hugged him harder, her voice cracking on fear.

"I'm so scared… We have this connection, and I can feel what he feels… I sense him, I can touch his emotions… experience his pain… so what happens to me when… when… he dies…?"

"Nothing's going to happen to you. Not while I'm around."

Sniffling, she pulled back, still in his grip, but far back enough so she could look him in the eye. Her face was red from crying, but her eyes sparkled with sincerity.

"Lance… you're the only person who's ever said anything like that to me. It means a lot. Thank you."

"Sure, no problem."

One of his large, rough hands came up and patted her face absently, wiping away a stray tear with an awkward smile.

In fact, the whole moment was entirely awkward. The two jumped apart as though a spark had ignited at their feet, or some painful energy had zapped them both simultaneously, sending them stepping back a few steps each, leaving them a good four feet apart.

Lance cleared his throat. Wanda stared intensely at the ground. And with that magical sense of relief that only young people have, they both burst into laughter at the same time, both grateful that that uncomfortable moment had passed.

Sure, it had felt perfectly natural to feel Lance's arms wrapped around her back.

And sure, she had fit in his embrace like she'd always belonged there.

But neither of them would admit it, not even if they were tortured on the rack.

"I suppose we should get back to the house."

"I suppose."

So they went.

~

Dinner was quiet. Todd came in from the yard, but he went straight to the living room and bypassed the kitchen all together. Freddy refused to leave his seat, and when Lance confronted him about it, he merely shrugged and said, "I'm not going in the kitchen. Not after today.", which in itself was completely unusual and unsettling coming from the Blob, but in this situation it seemed acceptable, if not sadly fitting.

If Pietro was planting bombs, they were blowing up in just the right spot. He'd scared Freddy out of his beloved kitchen.

The speedster himself had yet to show his face.

Eventually, they just ordered pizza and were waiting for it to arrive. After a lengthy debate over the virtues of anchovies (Todd), hamburger (Fred), pepperoni (Lance), and mushrooms (Wanda), they had decided to get two large cheese pizzas, preventing any arguments from springing up.

"Jeopardy!" was on TV, so they watched it with mild interest, everyone making the occasional guess and smirking triumphantly when they were correct.

It was just as they were heading into "Final Jeopardy!" that they all heard the soft clearing of someone's throat behind them. As one unit, their heads all turned to the doorway from the hall.

Pietro stood there, looking absolutely, perfectly, blessedly normal. A huge grin was on his face, and he leaned with his arms crossed in the doorframe.

"Hey, guys," he purred. "How's it going?"

And only Wanda could see that the smile was painted and false.

~