Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.
Author's Notes: This chapter doesn't have much action, but a lot happens, savvy? Hugs and kisses to everyone who reviewed. You guys rock. You know I had a demo version of this story written up in about six chapters, but then I thought, hey, let's do some more emotional exploring! Now it's twice as long, and we haven't even gotten to the real action! But now I give you… *dun dun dun!* The Catalyst!
~ Wanda ~
She dreams that she is safe.
At first, she is running through a dark forest, crying, uncertain, and completely lost. Her bare feet crunch in the snow.
She hears the sound of approach, and turns around to see white wolf. At first she is terrified, but she sees in its' eyes that it wants to help.
It comes towards her, and without a pause lies down in the snow before her. Rolling onto its' back, it exposes its' soft belly fur. Soft and warm.
So she lies down beside it, snuggling into the heat and falling asleep listening to its' heartbeat.
And she is safe.
~ Fred ~
He dreams that he is alone.
At first, he is standing with a companion. A thin, wraithlike figure stands at his side. It has no form, but burning eyes that have no color at all. They are on a long and empty road.
There is the sound of a gunshot, and a flock of birds leap into terrified flight and scatter away, screaming nervously.
Then the figure is gone, drifting away on a strong wind.
And he is alone.
~ Todd ~
He dreams that he is lost.
At first, he is walking down a wooded path. He knows the path, and he is not afraid, because there is a guide with him. The guide wears a mask, which he does not question. He only follows him deeper and deeper into the woods.
But then the path grows dark, and the guide removes his mask to show that he is a skeleton, and his face is merely a skull.
Then the guide takes off running at an incredible speed, leaving him on the deserted road.
And he is lost.
~ Lance ~
He dreams that he is abandoned.
At first, he is standing on a boat with four people. Three of them he loves, but the fourth he loves most of all, his dearest friend. The ship lists on the sea, and all is peaceful.
But the fourth has a bomb strapped to his chest, and the countdown clock is ticking away. He tries to stop his friend, but the clock hits zero.
The one he loves is blown away. Blood is on the deck, and a hole has been blasted into the boat that cannot be repaired. They are trapped on a sinking ship.
And he is abandoned.
~
When the sun finally began to beat incessantly on her eyelids, Wanda was rested. After a long and frustrating day yesterday, last night had given her the most peaceful and relaxed sleep she could remember in a long time. No nightmares, no flashing visions of a past she couldn't remember… just an absolute quiet. It was as if someone had been watching over her, guarding her dreams all night long.
Turning her head to the side, she saw it was true.
Her ear was pressed against something warm and reassuring, her face was rubbing against the fabric of a t-shirt, a heartbeat thumped lightly under her, and she was looking right into a pair of brilliant blue eyes.
"Morning, sis." She heard a soft voice say.
Sleepy and disoriented, it took her a long moment to figure out who it was. The messy white hair clued her in, and she gave an exaggerated yawn and snuggled into her brother's chest.
"Morning, Pie."
She felt his breath catch, and glanced up at him nervously.
"What's a'matter?" she asked hastily. "Did I say something wrong?"
"You haven't called me that in forever."
Oh. That's right. She hadn't, had she?
"Well then, I guess it's about time I said it again."
He chuckled, jostling her up and down gently with the movement. Yawning again, she tugged the quilt tighter around her frame.
"S'cold…" she muttered.
"It's the middle of December." He agreed.
"Cheeky." She shoved him half-heartedly.
"Augh!" Todd sat bolt upright. "I'm awake! I'm awake!"
His hands fumbled to shut off an imaginary alarm clock, and the pair on the couch laughed outright at his antics. As he gradually came back to himself, he scrubbed the sleep out of his eyes and blinked repeatedly.
"Whoa, man," he arched his back in a stretch. "I do not recommend sleeping in a position like that."
Unfolding himself from his cramped nest in the armchair, he flopped out on the carpet and poked Fred in the face repeatedly. He narrowly avoided the huge, sleepy fist aimed at him.
"Five more minutes!" the Blob roared.
"Sure thing, Freddy." Todd fetched his quilts and made himself a new nest in the middle of the floor.
Wanda herself was about to doze off again, but she noticed something that arrested her attention. Lance kicked once, twice in his sleep, until his body was tipped precariously close to the edge of the couch. One foot slipped off and hit the floor. The rest of him was sliding to a similar fate.
"Think we should wake him up?" she asked no one in particular.
"Nope." She could hear the evil grin in Pietro's voice.
The twins' eyes were locked on him, as Lance slowly… slowly began to roll over…
Whump.
He hit the floor and was awake with a jolt, hands swatting at an invisible antagonist as he opened his eyes. It finally occurred to him that he may have fallen by himself and not been pushed, and he glanced around to make sure no one had seen him, groaning loudly when he saw the witnesses.
"I give it a 7.5." Pietro said solemnly. "Excellent form, but the landing was a bit sloppy."
"Ha, ha, ha." Lance grumbled, getting to his feet. "Remind me to laugh after I've had some coffee."
"Sounds good to me." The speedster yawned. "I didn't sleep a wink last night."
Wanda made a mental note to ask him about that later, but in the meantime, a hot cup of coffee sounded too good to be true.
~
After lingering at the door to the kitchen for a nervous moment, Lance forged bravely ahead and set up the coffee, starting up the steady drip of morning refreshment. Pietro came up behind him and watching the drip with intense interest, before finally making a morbid remark.
"Looks like the drip of an IV."
"Sure, man," Lance agreed uneasily.
"Sorry." The response was hasty and genuinely apologetic. "I'm really tired, and I tend to be kind of creepy when I'm really tired."
"You're always kind of creepy." He poked fun gently, cautiously.
He won a laugh, and his heart soared. Pietro seemed to be entirely in control this morning, friendly, easygoing, relaxed. Just a bit bloodshot in the eyes, but they all were.
"So…" the speedster ventured. "Have any dreams last night?"
Lance had a quick, flashing memory, and could vaguely recall an explosion and a sense of overwhelming betrayal. He shook his head to clear it and forced a smile on his face that he hoped wasn't too obviously fake.
"No, none that I can remember."
The lie came easily, and seemed to satisfy Pietro into silence. They waited in this hush until the pot was full, and then Lance took it while the other boy fetched mugs, and the pair went back into the living room.
Coffee was poured, and all drank it without sugar or cream, because none wanted to go back in the kitchen. They chattered about this and that and nothing in particular, but simply enjoyed each other's company.
Until Pietro began to choke on his drink.
When he had first sipped the coffee, he had felt a twitch somewhere deep inside, but ignored it. However, the more of the coffee he drank, the more caffeine seeped into his system. A trigger was pulled by the chemical, as sufficient fuel was provided for the final shift to occur.
But shift into what?
So it was that Pietro suddenly felt his throat close up, and he couldn't swallow, and the world seemed to be getting blurry and he could no longer tell which way was up. The coffee mug slipped from his hand and shattered on the table, as he began to gag violently in the instinctive battle for air.
Lance immediately grabbed his shoulders, thumped his back, tried to clear whatever obstruction he thought was in his throat. But Pietro grabbed his neck, shaking his head wildly, eyes rolling back.
"…water…!" he choked feebly.
It was Todd that bolted for the kitchen, and they heard him fumbling to turn on the sink.
For Pietro, everything was turning a vague shade of grey, and he slid out of Lance's arms and to the floor, on his back, convulsing as though in the grip of some horrible seizure.
Wanda's arm knocked the coffee pot to the floor, and the carpet was stained the color of old blood as she raced to her brother's side, screaming his name desperately. His hand caught her wrist and held it in a death grip, and he hissed through clenched teeth,
"Make it stop, Wanda, for God's sake make it stop…"
His pleas were painful to hear, causing her physical agony as she, too, suddenly felt a tightening sensation in her chest. But it subsided as quickly as it came, even as his head fell back hard against the floor from the strain. And suddenly this stream of thought flew through her brain:
He knows. He knows it's hurting me, so he's trying to keep it all bottled up inside himself.
"I can take it, Pietro!" she shook him wildly. "I can take it! Don't try to hold it all on your own! Let me help you!"
As soon as Todd came rushing back in with a glass of water, Pietro was on his feet. None of them had seen him move at all, and there he stood, trembling violently.
"Don't use your powers, man!" Lance barked it like an order. "You'll only make it worse!"
"I'mnotI'mnotIcan'tstopIcan'tstopyou'reallgettingslower…!"
Their eyes tried to follow him as he fled around the room, panicking, terrified, but his speed was too great for them to track. Wanda felt fingers digging into her sleeve, bruising her flesh, while at virtually the same time Lance felt himself shook frantically by the shoulders.
A final, wretched scream ripped through the air, the sound of an animal in the trap looking down the muzzle of a gun and knowing its days are over.
A gust of wind nearly knocked them all off their feet.
Pietro was gone.
Only this time, he did not reappear.
~