Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.
Author's Notes: Much love from New York. I hope it snows soon. I want to write the last chapter when it's snowing.
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Xibalba --- the Mayan underworld, "The Place of Phantoms," can only be reached by passing a series of impossible tests on the Road to Xibalba, a dark and difficult path through the stars.
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They waited.
What else could they do? Standing around in the Frankenstein med lab, cold as ice, silent as the grave. All eyes riveted on that shiny little syringe and that precise little note, waiting for something, anything to change. Would Pietro materialize suddenly before them? Would he be alive, or would the heavy tranquilizer stop his heart? The defibrillator was waiting too, but with much more patience than any of them.
Lance and Wanda were in each other's arms, counting heartbeats, counting seconds, counting how many times Dr. McCoy went over and reread the note to make sure it was as straightforward and simple as possible. Todd was sitting in a distant corner, knees drawn to his chest with arms locked around them, his head buried safely in the fortress he had created; Fort Tolensky, impenetrable by sadness or fear, or so its maker hoped and prayed. Logan, Xavier, and Erik made a grim trio across from the table that held the syringe. Xavier was sending out a slow, steady pulse of calm that managed to reach everyone in the room, if not as complete soothing, at least as a reassuring nudge. In another corner sat Freddy, with Johnny asleep or unconscious in his arms, but breathing still in spite of everything.
They waited.
Suddenly, something changed. Everyone felt it happen, even if they didn't see it. Quick, everyone, find the difference between the two pictures! It's a small difference, it could be anything from the number of stripes on the back of the chair to the hands on the clock being in a different position. What could it be?
Then Lance said, "Look!"
He pointed to the floor, where the precise little note was all shredded up and lying quietly in several pieces.
"What does that mean?" yelped Todd, who had stupidly set foot outside of his fort only to be viciously assaulted by the enemy.
"I'm not sure," said Hank cautiously.
And Erik announced, "He's not going to take it."
Everyone was very quiet. It would be just like Pietro, wouldn't it? Selfish bastard that he was. Lance clutched Wanda so tight she thought she might explode. She was shaking her head and saying the word "no" like a sacred chant. It got louder and louder, steadily climbing the tone scale towards hysteria. Distraught by her distress, Freddy carefully placed Johnny on the floor, then hurried over and embraced both Lance and Wanda in his huge arms.
"Guys," he choked. "What's happening?"
He received no answer.
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Pietro watched them with steely, unsympathetic eyes. It wasn't going to work. Nothing could make him change his mind once he had made a decision. This was final. This was permanent. Damn the torpedoes, and damn them all for caring so much.
An electric shock ran down his spine and he cried out, doubling over in pain as some invisible assailant stabbed him in the stomach.
"It's a trick!" he panted. "You can't make me change my mind!"
- - -
"If Pietro doesn't take that shot," Logan muttered. "What's Plan B?"
"There is no Plan B!" Hank raked a hand over his head in frustration. "We have no other way of even finding him, let alone catching him!"
"He's afraid." Erik said softly, brokenly. "Of the needle. It's my fault, oh god, it's all my fault."
"What are we gonna do?" Todd whimpered, muffled by the fortress he had futilely attempted to crawl back inside of. "What are we gonna do?"
"Wait, just wait," Lance was trying to calm down Wanda, Freddy, Todd, and himself. "He'll reconsider. He's not stupid, he knows what's at stake."
There were several horrible moments when no one could think of anything to say. Then, grim and specter-like, Johnny rose to his feet with a primal scream.
"Pietro, you bastard!"
Everyone turned to him, startled, as he lurched towards the remains of the note, sweat falling from his face like tears, a faint dark spot just now visible on his forehead; a new lesion. Hands grasped clawlike at the bits of paper, his voice hoarse and desperate, his agony raw and uncontrollable.
"You stupid bastard!" he shrieked. "I hate you I hate you I hate you! You think you're the only person who cares about you! What about Wanda? What about me? You son of a bitch, what about me? You said— you said— you said we'd be buddies, we'd be pals! You were keeping me alive, now look at me! I have no strength left, and it's all your fault! I hate you! I'm dying because you can't pull your head out of your selfish ass and see how much we need you! I hate you I hate I hate—"
They all winced at the sickening crack that Johnny's head made when it slammed into the floor. It was a seizure that threw him backwards like a kick to the face, then jumped up and down on his back out of spite. He cried out in pain, arching from side to side, his limbs thrashing and his lungs gasping for air.
"Johnny!" Wanda screamed, lunging forwards.
She rushed towards him to kneel at his side and hold him still, but before she could even make it two steps, the thunderous voice that haunted her nightmares froze her in her tracks.
"Wanda!" Erik roared. "Don't touch him!"
No one could move, they just watched in mesmerized horror as the blood appeared, trickling out of Johnny's nose and mouth, splattering and smearing on the floor as his head snapped around helplessly. The doctor in Hank spurred him into motion, but before he could reach the victim, another harsh order curtailed his action.
"No one touch him!" boomed Erik. "No one go near him!"
"For god's sake, why not?" cried Hank, horrified.
"It's the blood." said Logan coolly. "What's in the blood, Magnet, that's got you so scared?"
"The Legacy Virus." Erik was calm, detached. "It is designed to kill mutants and it spreads through the blood. I would advise no one to touch him unless they wish to share his illness."
"He's dying!" Wanda was furious. "You can't just stand there and watch him suffer!"
"I can." Erik said levelly. "I did everything I could for him."
"That's not good enough." Wanda snapped.
Determined, she marched another two steps closer to the aid of the fallen Johnny. But in several rapid strides, Erik had raced over and caught her in his arms, physically preventing her from action.
"You monster!" she yelled, struggling to free herself. "You're a monster! Let me go! Someone, help him, please!"
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Lying on the floor and trying not to explode, Pietro lifted his head to glare spitefully at those he had thought he could trust. He wanted to spit poison at them, spit fire, but he didn't. He just stared.
Johnny was also lying on the floor. And he didn't look too good.
All of Pietro's limbs weighed a fucking ton. He barely managed to drag himself to his feet, and then he had to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling over again. Every step took a lifetime, his foot dragging slowly, slowly across the cold hard floor. He was mesmerized by the red red blood coming from Johnny's mouth and nose. It drew him closer like a snake charmer, but he reached the edge of the table and could go no further.
Oh, Wanda. Look at you standing there, your face twisted in despair, your eyes crying out for aid. Look at you crying out for justice. You reach for Johnny, but you're reaching past him. It's not him you want. You're reaching out for mercy, for whatever higher power that has done this to us not to take us away from you. You're trying to hold onto Johnny because you can't bear to lose another one.
And Pietro realized: she thinks she's already lost me.
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The seizure stopped at the same time as Johnny's heart. Everyone got absolutely quiet, waiting for him to draw another gasping breath, but he didn't. He just went completely still, ending as abruptly as the road when it comes to the edge of a cliff. It sounded just like that, too; the engine of the car was his labored breathing, and when the car plunged off the edge of the chasm, all the roaring noise was suddenly cut off.
"No!" Wanda screamed, and she tried digging her fingernails into Erik's arm, but nothing could make him let go.
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This wasn't right.
"I'm still here!" Pietro screamed.
No one paid any attention.
This was so wrong. He wasn't ready to leave. He wanted to be with them. Look at them, they couldn't cope without him! Wanda was a mess, Lance was caving in on himself, Todd was freaking out, Freddy was slipping into apathy, and of course the minute he turned his back Johnny completely let himself go, that bastard. They needed him!
Pietro said, bewildered, "They need me."
And look at Wanda, in Magneto's arms. Magneto, trying to take care of Johnny and screwing it up royally. Magneto, trying to take Pietro's place in the family he had worked so hard and long to build.
There was no way he would let him have that satisfaction.
Pietro turned his sweat-drenched body around and started hauling himself towards the needle.
"I'm not a coward."
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"He's not breathing!" Lance was panicking. "What do we do?"
Logan stood silent and still, his eyes burning a thousand accusations at Magneto, who stared back with the gaze of a condemned prisoner. Logan looked down at the body at his feet. So that was the truth about the time-bomb. A manufactured disease after all. Poor bastard probably had his veins pumped full of poison in some mutant testing facility, anonymous scientists having their way with him, no ownership even of his own body. Logan knew the feeling and he knew he had to act.
Shit. Healing factors protect against disease, right? Now they do.
Kneeling next to the glassy-eyed Johnny, Logan knotted his hands and began CPR.
"Wolverine!" Magneto growled. "I hope you realize the consequences of your actions."
And glancing up from his work, Logan said what everyone had been wanting to say to Erik from the moment he had dared to ask forgiveness:
"Fuck you."
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"Oh god oh god oh god oh god..."
Pietro's hands were shaking so badly he could hardly hold the needle straight. He was terrified. Hot tears were slipping out of his eyes and blurring his vision. He felt like he was going to piss his pants with fear. Everything was slanted and angry, and he could hear his father's voice over and over: "It's for your own good. It's for your own good. Trust me. Trust me."
He cast a wild, despairing glance at Wanda, but she couldn't help him. He was on his own. Somehow, somehow he had to find the courage to do this alone.
Think of Wanda. Think of Johnny and Lance and Todd and all the people who need you and want you to come home!
Squeezing his eyes shut so tight it hurt, he hissed through bared teeth, "Please, God!"
And he brought the needle down into his arm.
It stabbed like a spear, and he gasped in agony as it impaled his skinny limb. Before he could think, his hand was independently depressing the plunger and sending the tranquilizer scalding into his bloodstream.
It raced through his system from his head to his toes; the needle went clattering from his paralyzed hand, his whole world spinning, his tongue swelling up and hanging out of his mouth like a dog. Everything felt tighter, tighter, tighter; a big invisible fist was closing over his heart and squeezing it like an orange, orange juice, Pietro juice, sour and poisonous.
It hurt so much! He tried to take one lurching step towards Wanda, but his legs were frozen solid like steel girders, brittle, unmoveable.
I think... my heart... is...
And then it stopped.
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"Hey, Hank," Logan grunted with the repeated effort of the compressions. "What do you say we put that defibrillator to good use?"
Hank nodded, gave Erik a scathing look, then hurried to prepare the machine. Everyone was so focused on Johnny's dying that they almost missed it. Fortunately, the ear-piercing scream caught their attention, and they all whipped around to see...
Pietro! Appearing like a sonic boom, ghost-pale, haggard, and screaming like a banshee. His specter hands were clawing at his chest, tearing at the sweat-soaked material of his t-shirt, his eyes rolled upwards in the sockets like a final glance up to heaven, a dying plea for mercy.
No one even had time to move before he collapsed, hitting the ground hard, the needle skittering across the floor as it fell from his hand.
He was not breathing, and his open eyes were vacant, lifeless, silent, gazing straight up through the ceiling and the mansion and the sky and on into the stars.
There was a roar of voices. People were crying Pietro's name, crying out in fear, crying out in joy. Hank raced over to him, placed two blue fingers against the strained white neck, announced, "No pulse!"
Logan looked up from his work. The defib machine was right next to him. He reached out for the paddle, but with the whir of magnetism, the machine darted away from him and rolled over to Pietro. Erik's extended hand guided it. He had made his decision. Logan returned to compressions.
Wanda bit Erik's hand so hard that she broke the skin. As he held his bleeding wound close, she broke loose and raced to her brother, scooping his head into her lap and screaming his name over and over, wake up, wake up, wake up!
The whine of the charging defibrillator— Lance had to tear Wanda away so she wouldn't get shocked herself— Pietro's back arched under the electrical current— Logan pounded on Johnny's chest and snarled, "You are not giving up now!"— Todd wept and Freddy stared— "Clear!" and Pietro thrashed again but didn't wake up—
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