Note: The X-Men are the property of Marvel Comics. They are used without permission and for purposes of entertainment only.
Silent Amber
Chapter 2 – Sunset in Westchester
The sky was just beginning to bud with the yellow-orange flame of new sunset as Peter made his daily pilgrimage through the grounds behind the mansion. The neatly trimmed grass was soft beneath his feet; he'd wandered off the path toward Breakstone Lake as soon as he'd cleared the athletic fields. To his left, an easy stroll away, stood a wall of leafy sycamores marking the border of the woods where he'd spent many a chill winter's afternoon chopping timber to keep everyone warm during the wolf hours, but that was not his destination this day. A pleasant, cooling breeze washed over him and played through the ebon locks of his hair in mild counterpoint to the somber way he moved and the gloom dawning anew in his heart as he cast his eyes to the sky. When he again looked ahead his mouth drew down into a surprised and concerned frown as he noticed that the gentle hilltop he was heading toward was already occupied.
Ruth sat with her knees folded against her chest, arms hugging her legs, facing the sunset as if she was watching it through the cloth blindfold covering her eyes. Peter supposed it was possible the mysterious young woman was doing exactly that. As he drew closer he noticed she was engaged in what appeared to be a deep conversation with someone who wasn't there. Telepathic communication, he surmised. Peter wasn't sure if she verbalized out of habit, preference, or some barrier to how her power functioned, and briefly wondered if he should raise the subject with Emma Frost. Whichever it was, she never seemed bothered by it or the curious looks she often got from her fellow students and a few of the teaching staff.
"Hello, Mister Rasputin," she said casually when he finished cresting the hill and came to a stop at her side. "It is, yes, about to start." She was still looking to the sky, but something about her tone made Peter wonder if she was talking about the sunset.
"Good afternoon, Ruth," he replied, deciding it best not to ask her to clarify the remark. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Thank you, no," she said. "We were, pardon, sharing stories." There was a subtle movement beneath her blindfold, as if one of her brows had quickly risen. "They like you. One says you remind them, yes, of an angel."
"Ah." A nervous chuckle hovered at the bottom of his throat, and he couldn't decide whether to bring it forth to conceal his confusion or not. Instead he opted for a more neutral, "That's very kind of them."
"They're gone, now. For the moment." Ruth unclasped her arms and rose steadily to her feet. There was something about her methodical grace and stately posture which made it difficult not to picture her as some Hellenistic oracle or sage, rather than one of the Institute's remaining students. Her worn, fringed shawl and modest dress only served to reinforce that impression. "I must leave as well. To prepare."
For what, Peter wondered, but doubted it was a good idea to ask her. He glanced down to where she'd been sitting and saw that the grass had already sprung back. She hadn't been here long, which made her enigmatic, yet still polite excuse seem more for his benefit than her own. "You're welcome to stay if you like," he assured the young woman. "I don't wish to chase you away."
"Thank you, thank you, no." She turned toward Peter. "It isn't time yet, for you to lead the way. When it is, yes, I will be there to guide, although I do not know how."
Peter blinked. "Guide me where?"
"Not where, pardon," Ruth said, giving her head a slow shake. She descended the hill, headed back toward the mansion.
"Ruth?"
The young woman gave no response. Lost in her own curious world of visions and mysteries, she kept walking, leaving Peter with no answers save silence. He watched her for a moment, unsure if he should follow or try calling her back again, before opting to simply shake his head ruefully and let her be. She had a habit of leaving him with more questions after they spoke than he'd come with. It was likely, he supposed, that he would never fully understand Ruth, but he knew enough to guess that she would explain what she meant when she was ready. How much of that explanation would make any sense to him remained to be seen. Still, he might raise the subject the next time their paths crossed, on the off chance she was in a more profuse mood.
Peter turned his attention away from Ruth's departing form and lifted his eyes to the palette of persimmon, deep saffron and cerise infusing the flat clouds stretching across the blazing sky. He drank in the sight, absorbing every shade and hue of the ever-shifting vastness, but his artist's soul found no succor or nourishment. Just as it had every day for the past week, Peter's mind added the face of a beautiful young woman with hazel eyes shining with intelligence and laughter, smiling down from above the clouds. The slowly fading sun and fiery clouds somehow made it easier to picture her. He tried to cling to the image, to somehow burn it permanently into his consciousness, but as always, it began to fade the instant it reached its fullest clarity, as if it were merely a random pattern created by dust and lake mist, creating a perfect arrangement for just one fleeting second before flowing off to whatever amorphous destiny wind and whim chose next.
It was all too easy to instead imagine Kitty in her present state. "I'm in the cage I freed Peter from," was what she had told Emma, and Peter knew he would never forget what it had been like in the prison Ord had made for him. Not for as long as he lived. After they returned to Earth, while Scott was busy dealing with the aftermath of the Breakworld's attack, Emma had approached Peter and offered to replay her last telepathic conversation with Kitty before she was lost. It was the best she could do for him, she explained, but also the least he deserved. Peter couldn't be sure, but it seemed very important to Emma, though he could not imagine why such a thing would matter at all to a woman like her. It was as much Emma's unexpected sincerity as his own desire to have one last piece of Kitty to hold in his memory that persuaded him to accept.
Somewhere in the distance a crow split the silence with a lonely, raucous squawk before bursting through the treetops and flying off to a destination known only to it. A calm breeze crossed the summit where Peter stood, bending blades of grass by his feet and ruffling his dark, even hair. He drew a deep breath; the air tasted faintly of cedar and molasses. The calmly rippling waters of the lake shimmered with the reflection of the sunset. In a few more minutes it would be over.
) – (
The silver monolith streaked through the void of space like a blur of hot mercury, indifferent to its course or lack of any target. It gluttonously consumed light years like dime store candy while stars winked in the distance as if urging it ever onward until it became just another forgotten speck in the celestial brew, eternity its only destination.
A soft, amber light caressed the rim of the bullet and quickly spread along the length of it until the entire surface was engulfed. The nimbus grew, brightening as it expanded into a lambent sphere until it could be mistaken for a baby star. Unseen within this sphere, the bullet's thundering momentum grew sluggish, floating within the heavens as if it had suddenly thickened into porridge around it. It continued to slow, until finally its speed was no more and it drifted aimlessly, a twig upon the cosmic sea.
The smooth metal rippled, as if it had suddenly gone liquid, waves travelling up and down along the shaft. It bulged, then slowly collapsed within itself, the tip flattening even as the rim widened, rounded contours becoming square and layered. It was as if the bullet had been melted into slag and was being silently poured into an invisible mold. The halo of light surrounding it dimmed and contracted like a lamp burning its last ounce of oil while the transformation continued. Formless mass took on precise dimension, expertly carved, until at last the light snuffed itself to reveal a majestic palace of brilliant silver metal.
It was as large as a small city, broad and low, ancient in design, as if some long forgotten ruin had risen out of time and shaken off the weathered stone coating it like so much dust. High walls surrounded the length, with walkways wide enough for three to walk abreast. Rows of interconnected buildings filled the lower level and flanked a grand stairway leading to the upper city, ringed by two more sets of unbreachable fortification. Above that lay an expansive courtyard, crowned by the grand temple and citadel, and finally, at the highest point, the throne room, almost a palace in its own right. Thick, elegant pillars encircled the monument by the dozen, highlighting its place amidst an already magnificent structure.
Kitty gazed about herself from the expansive throne room she found herself standing in. She blinked her eyes rapidly, as if it were all some spectacular illusion she had to capture behind her eyelids to preserve it in her memory before it all vanished leaving her back in the hollow of the bullet. It did not. One hand settled upon her heart as she breathlessly drank in the sight of marble steps, ivory statues and columns etched with delicate and beautiful carvings. Beneath it all and gleaming on every wall was the Breakworld metal, no polished to a brilliance that belied the dread purpose for which it had originally been forged.
She turned to face the immense window to the left of the throne and cautiously stepped toward it. Her footfalls echoed throughout the chamber with perfect clarity. Once before the window, she looked out upon the city, marveling at the sight of the shimmering walls and intricate architecture. Past its boundaries remained the emptiness of space, the stars seeming to sparkle in admiration of the new jewel before them.
"This is all so beautiful," Kitty breathed. "It doesn't seem possible."
"My precious child," a vibrant, angelic voice replied, "this is merely the beginning."
) – (
Peter did not start at the sudden explosion of purplish smoke or the sharp sound announcing Kurt's arrival. He didn't even crinkle his nose at the always pungent aroma that came with his teleportation effect. It had been a long time since his once-startling mutant power had taken Peter by surprise.
"Hello, Kurt."
"Good evening, Peter," Kurt said, moving to stand next to Peter. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Never, my friend. I'm glad to have your company." Part of him had been expecting that his elfin teammate might show up. Hoping for it, even.
Kurt flashed him a warm smile and crouched down to enjoy the waning sunset, his wrists balanced against his knees and his tail coiled on the ground behind him. His posture made Peter feel like he was standing next to an indigo gargoyle. Peter couldn't imagine how he could possibly be comfortable in that position, but he'd seen Kurt adopt far stranger poses over the years, up to and including perching himself upside-down as if he were part possum. He supposed it was simply the way Kurt was built. It was difficult for Peter to imagine what even the simple act of walking would be like with a forked tail, three-toed feet and a lithe and agile body, and he was sure that Kurt, who had been born that way, would find it equally difficult to imagine life in Peter's tall, broad form.
"It is a beautiful sunset, nicht wahr?"
"Yes," Peter agreed without much conviction.
"Things change so quickly for us," Kurt said. "It's comforting to know some things, such as this view, remain constant."
Peter caught the sidelong look Kurt was giving him and heaved a slow, deep sigh. His friend was concerned, he could tell, and was trying to ease his way into coaxing a discussion out of him. He needn't have worried. Peter was in the mood to voice what was on his mind, and Kurt was right at the top of his list of people he was comfortable speaking with at the moment. "Not for me," he said. "I believe this will be the last I see here for a very long time."
Kurt's smile faded and his head turned to look at Peter directly. "Do I dare ask why that is?"
"I am leaving. Tomorrow." It was the first time he had said the words out loud, though they had been there, silently carving deep ruts in his mind and spirit, ever since the meeting with Scott. Peter fixed his eyes skyward, bracing himself for whatever reaction he might get from Kurt.
There was a long, palpable silence, Kurt softly flicking his tail from side to side as he studied Peter, who steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. Finally, Kurt spoke, his voice thick with careful deliberation. "It seems you've thought this through."
"I have."
"And yet," Kurt said, rising out of his crouch, "unless I'm mistaken about my being the first to hear of this, and knowing how quickly gossip spreads here I'm certain that isn't the case, you haven't availed yourself of a friend's council before reaching a decision, despite having a full week to do so." He'd noticed something was going on with Peter, it seemed, even if he'd chosen not to approach him about it until now. There was an edge to Kurt's voice, a mixture of concern and disappointment. There was, however, no note of surprise. "A friend who might be able to point out any potential flaws, of which there are sure to be many, as well as suggest alternate courses of action."
Peter's lips tightened. He shook his head sadly. "What you mean to say, is someone who might try to change my mind, but my mind will not be changed. Not for this."
"I only mean there are better ways to cope with what's happened. And that it's healthier to do so in the company of those who care for you." Kurt's lips quirked into a self-deprecating smirk. "Take it from someone who's already made that mistake."
Peter caught the reference to Kurt's personal moment of crisis just before their first battle with the Marauders, and shook his head with fervor. "Cope? That for when things have ended. When there is nothing left to do." At last he turned, looking Kurt in the eyes. "I am not leaving to hide or wallow or collapse inside myself. This is no mistake. I understand 'what has happened' better than most. And Scott, I think, doesn't understand it at all." Peter's jaw was set with determination when next he spoke, "She needs help, and every moment I spend doing nothing takes her further away."
"You aren't being fair. To yourself or to Scott."
Peter scoffed bitterly. "I have been more than fair to him. But I refuse to believe Katya's fate is best left only in the hands of Scott and his 'top men.' If they cannot find her, I must."
"Even if your are hurt in the process?"
"She would do no less for any of us," Peter asserted, slicing the air with his palm. "She has done no less, many times. It is the way things are supposed to be among the X-Men, is it not? It seems to me we are doing a poor job of living up to her example." He inhaled deeply through his nose, his blue eyes alight with the fierceness of his conviction. "There is no pain I would not endure to bring her back. I would give my life for her. I would give up my soul and more, without hesitation." His eyes returned to watch the sky. The horizon had finished swallowing the sun, leaving only a radient crown of yellow light to mark where it lay. The clouds had begun to turn dark and bruise colored, mirroring Peter's mood. His voice became softer. "I would have none of those things now, had she not found me."
Kurt mulled that over, fingers pinching his chin in thought. "You always were a passionate soul," he said fondly. "But I wasn't referring to what you may have to do to find her. For her to have phased so much… It would be like me trying to teleport something of that size. It isn't pleasant to think about, but it's possible she could not have survived. More than possible, in fact. Suppose you do find her, and she hasn't. What then?"
Peter's answer was slow in coming, but no less certain. "Then I will bring her home, where she can be given a proper burial. She deserves better than that abomination for a tomb." He waited for Kurt's answering nod before continuing. "I think you are wrong, however. She is alive. I feel it in my heart." Peter felt a surge of emotion, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and finger to stem the flow. His voice began to crack despite his efforts. "When the Professor asked me to join the X-Men, Papa told me I should always listen to what my heart says, that it would never betray me. Instead, I chose to follow my conscience and go with Xavier. I will not ignore what my heart says this time. It would be better, I think, if I did not listen to it only when it is broken."
"That isn't true," Kurt said, laying a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It only seems that way because it comes so naturally to you, that those are the only times you've noticed it. If there is any man who follows his heart better than you, I haven't met him. I think that, more than anything, is why I'm concerned about what you're planning. This isn't exactly the best time to be alone."
A spark of amusement crept over Peter's face, easing the gloom that had befallen it. "Are you suggesting I bring you along?"
"I've had worse ideas in my time." Kurt tossed him a lopsided grin. "Besides, I could use an adventure. Not that things are ever dull around here, of course."
"Of course," Peter agreed, returning the smile. A moment later, though, he shook his head. "As much as I would have your company on this, Scott would never allow it. Ever since so many mutants were depowered he has been closing ranks, keeping as many X-Men and mutants around him as he can, guarding them almost like a miser. Each new crisis we have faced only makes things worse with him. It will be difficult enough persuading him to accept that I am leaving." He gave the communicator on his belt a light pat. "I will keep this, however. So long as you and the others are only a call away, I am never truly alone."
As if awakened by his words, the devices on their belts went off, the tiny red signal lights flaring to life. Quick on their heels was the sound of Scott's stiff, commanding voice over the mini-speakers. Kurt, Peter, suit up and report to the Hangar. We're needed in Utah.
"Case in point," Kurt said.
For a moment Peter resentfully glared at the communicator before unleashing a sigh of bemusement. "Yes, there is that, too," he conceded. "What could possibly be in Utah that needs the X-Men?"
"Only one way to find out." Kurt's smile widened, revealing his sharp canines. "What do you say," he said, offering his hand. "One last bit of heroics and daring-do before you leave?"
Peter considered it for a moment. "Why not?" he said, accepting Kurt's hand. "Perhaps we will even finish in time for me to enjoy the sunset twice."
Kurt barked an amused laugh. "That's the spirit!" A second later the pair were engulfed in a swirling, violet cloud as Kurt teleported them back to the mansion.
Scott – Thank you very much for your review. Feedback is always appreciated. It may take me a while, but I will certainly finish this story.
Dark-bat – I know exactly what you mean about how characters can be rendered unintelligible by the way their voices are written. Blindfold is a tough one, but very important to the story, so I hope to keep her sounding right. Glad you enjoyed my first chapter and I hope you continue to enjoy the entire story.