Taking Back the Crown

by JCMorrigan

Mozenrath. Archibald Snatcher. Roman Torchwick. Mad Madam Mim. Yzma. The Huntsman. Wuya. Ayam Aghoul. Their mission: take over the multiverse, or look fabulous trying. Rated M for swearing, steamy implications and VERY bloody battles. Contains slash and het shipping.

86. Never Left Behind

After staring at the castle on the horizon for a solid five minutes, Lance, Pietro, Todd, Fred, and Wanda all turned back to each other, clearly reading the confusion on each other's faces.

"Okay," Pietro stated, "so there's a castle. This has to be some monarchy-run place. Like…I don't know, what countries are still monarchies besides England? I know what Buckingham Palace looks like, and that is NOT IT."

"The only one I remember from history class is Latveria," Lance replied. "Maybe we're in Latveria?"

"This DOESN'T seem like Latveria," Wanda argued.

"What, you ever been to Latveria?" Todd asked.

"No," Wanda replied.

"Then how do you know what Latveria's s'posed to be like?" Fred countered.

Lance returned his attention to the sphere. "We're here because of this thing," he pointed out. "Maybe we can use it to get back to Bayville. Todd, how did you get it to – "

"It won't work," Wanda interrupted. "It reacted to my power when I didn't intend it to. I could try to replicate the same effect, but there's no guarantee that would bring us home. It could drop us somewhere else on the planet. There might even be a chance it would just destroy us instead of bringing us anywhere else."

"Okay, so, plan B," Todd volunteered. "We track down the nearest airport and sneak our way onto a plane."

"There is literally no way anybody but me is SNEAKING onto a plane," Pietro argued. "Besides, the more I think about this, I'm startin' to think this could be a good thing."

"A GOOD thing?" Lance repeated in shock. "We're thousands of miles away from home and everything and everyone we know!"

"Right," Pietro reminded him. "Home, where we didn't have heat or running water. Everyone we know, like the X-Jerks. Starting to see where I'm coming from?"

Realization washed over the others. Perhaps being transported somewhere they hadn't yet burned out could work in their favor.

"We have a clean slate here," Pietro went on. "Starting from scratch. If we find a decent base of operations, we could be sitting pretty for way longer than we would back in Bayville. And nobody knows us here, so we can pick up a few essentials without getting the cops called on us the minute we turn up."

"What kind of base of operations?" Wanda asked. "There won't be an abandoned house just waiting for us to move in."

"I know," Pietro responded.

In unison, he and Lance said, "That's why – "

Lance finished: " – we need to scope out our options."

Pietro finished: " – we can worry about that after checking out the castle."

They quickly shot each other a glance.

"I don't think any of us wants to sleep on the street tonight," Lance argued. "The sooner we start looking for somewhere, anywhere to stay, the sooner we can focus on our next move."

"That castle HAS to have some high-class stuff," Pietro countered. "Stuff we can trade in for rent. You think a landlord's going to take a teleporter as collateral?"

"But if we don't even know where to exchange rent for staying," Wanda pointed out, "there's no point."

"I'm with Lance here," Todd agreed. "Believe me, I've slept on the sidewalk before. NOT comfortable, yo."

That earned him four confused looks.

"Like you didn't know I got a past," he said with a shrug.

"Lance is right," Fred picked up. "We can't just pick out any old place anyway. It's gotta be…you know. Big." He had hoped by now that his friends would understand he wasn't built for a tiny apartment with cramped rooms and narrow doors.

"And with a good foundation," Lance added, thinking about the inevitability that he would have to use his power indoors and hope not to collapse the ceiling.

Pietro was somewhat miffed. He was, for all intents and purposes, the leader of the Brotherhood, and yet the rest of them had flocked to Lance instead. However, he knew Lance's logic was solid. Besides, it was Lance. He liked Lance as much as he did for a reason. The boy was smart. It was time to relent, as much as Pietro hoped this didn't mark the beginning of his undermining as team captain. "Message received," he stated. "Home base first, castle later."

"We've got a lot of ground to cover," Lance stated. "I don't even remember how big the capital of Latveria is supposed to be. What was the capital of Latveria again?"

"Doom-somethin'," Fred volunteered.

"I'm still not sure this is Latveria," Wanda muttered.

"We need to pick a landmark," Lance stated, "split up, and come back to it once we – "

Pietro made a show of clearing his throat loudly.

"Pietro," Lance addressed. "You have a different idea."

"Well, just that I could do two laps around this town in the time it takes any of you to go ten blocks," Pietro reminded him. "This'll go a lot faster if you four wait in one place and I take a spin around to scope out our options."

"That's…a good point," Lance realized. "If we find a grocery store or something, we can start stockpiling food while you find us a place."

"Well, what're we waitin' for?" Todd encouraged as he began leaping down the street.

As the five moved through town, odd little details stood out to them suggesting that all was not as it seemed. For instance, the dress of the average person on the street seemed to be somewhere between old-fashioned and modern: doublets with double-belts, ankle-length skirts with chest-length jackets. In the meantime, no one gave a second glance to the Brotherhood or their unusual costumes. Signs above shops were brightly colored, illustrating the wares within, and many of the shops had counters open to the outdoors. All of this could be attributed to cultural customs of wherever the quintet had ended up, but the glimpse Lance caught of a Moogle flying over the rooftops and disappearing behind a nearby building couldn't so easily be explained by "This is Latveria." Of course, Lance couldn't be entirely sure he'd seen what he thought he saw, so he brought it up to no one.

Eventually, the group entered a large marketplace with street vendors of all sorts concentrated in one large square; shopping carts were parked at the entrance to this square. "This must be how they sell food here," Wanda realized. "It's like a farmer's market. Everyone handles different food."

"So we have to steal from a hundred separate people," Lance said softly. "Well, no one said this would be easy."

"You guys work on this," Pietro commanded. "I'm gonna go find us a place to crash."

With that, he had taken off, blazing through the streets as a streak of blue-white.

Todd shot Fred a mischievous glance. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin', pumpkin?"

"Carts?" Fred replied.

"Carts."

"No," Lance told them sternly. "No playing with the carts. We're trying NOT to attract attention, remember?"

"What's the point of grocery shoppin' if you can't speed a cart halfway down the aisle and ride it the rest of the way by standin' on that part you're not supposed to stand on?" Todd argued.

"There aren't even AISLES here," Lance pointed out.

"You can either lay low and help us QUIETLY," Wanda stated, "or you can go somewhere else."

Upon being given that ultimatum, Fred and Todd immediately turned to look at what was across the street from the marketplace entrance. "Whaddaya think they got in there?" Todd asked.

"Dunno," Fred told him, "but we'll find out!"

"Just don't go too far," Lance warned. "We need to be able to find each other when Pietro comes back."

"Geez, don't be such a worrywart," Todd groaned. "Warts are my thing, remember?"

They split up: Lance and Wanda selecting a shopping cart and strategizing how to move through the marketplace while Todd and Fred headed across the street to investigate the shops situated there.

The shopkeeper of the dressphere emporium had finally managed to put his store back in order after the night of the blackout. The shelves had been straightened and restocked, the front window given a new pane of glass. He was ready for a new influx of customers. However, in light of recent events, many people lacked the discretionary income to spend on swanky new dresspheres. Business was stagnant.

Therefore, when the two teenagers wandered into the shop with curious eyes, the shopkeeper was all too happy to greet them at the door. "Welcome!" he said excitedly. "May I help you find the perfect wardrobe?"

That statement clashed with the actual sight that Todd and Fred took in as they glanced around. "What, you just sell a buncha glass balls?" Todd said in confusion.

The shopkeeper simply smiled. "You must be travelers from far away. That seems all the more common nowadays." Newcomers to town meant new customers. "You've never seen a dressphere before, have you?"

"A what now?" Todd's mouth screwed up in bewilderment.

The shopkeeper was more eager than ever to reveal the secret of his wares. After all, the boy with the pink hair had been so amazed by them, the shopkeeper had come to realize how easily dresspheres impressed those who had never encountered them. "Tell me the outfit of your dreams," he commanded.

"I, uh…" Todd took a moment to think on it.

Fred very nearly suggested overalls, but Todd had started his sentence, so Fred was ready to let him finish it.

Todd fell back on basics. "I guess…brown T-shirt on top of green shirt on top of white undershirt. Pair of jeans. Pair of black wrist cuffs, the kind with the spikes."

It took the shopkeeper a moment to register this. Outside of the triple shirts, that didn't seem very much like an outfit of anyone's dreams. Yet he wasn't about to belittle the wardrobe fantasies of any customer. "One moment, please," he said as he retreated into a back corner of the shop.

He returned with a single dressphere, extending it on his hand toward Todd. "Take it, sir, and be amazed."

Todd gave Fred a playful nudge with his elbow. "This guy's callin' me 'sir.'"

"So pick up the thing!" Fred encouraged.

When Todd grasped the dressphere, he became aware of the change. He was no longer clothed in his costume designated for villainy, but in an ensemble nearly identical to what he had worn back in Bayville – minus certain smaller pieces.

"Accessories are still in the works," the shopkeeper informed him, observing Todd's glance toward his cuffless wrists and thinking back to how the pink-haired boy had so wanted a specific hat.

Todd decided to forget about the cuffs; this was amazing enough. "Now that's some sweet tech! I knew Latveria was ahead of the times, but this is somethin' else!"

The shopkeeper wasn't quite sure what "Latveria" was and therefore dismissed the statement without correcting it. "We have dresspheres for every occasion," he advertised. "And each dressphere will automatically adjust to fit the wearer, so there's no need for sizing when making a purchase."

"One size fits all, huh?" Todd reiterated. "So…hypothetically speakin'…if I was shoppin' for, like, five people, I could try on all their outfits before I shelled out for 'em?"

"Of course you could," the shopkeeper assured him.

Fred knew exactly what Todd was thinking. "DO IT."

"Doin' it," Todd confirmed.

The next moment saw Todd positioned before a triple-paneled mirror, which he ignored so he could face Fred while choosing from the selection of dresspheres he'd ordered. Taking on a more form-fitting dark brown shirt and a different pair of jeans, he straightened up and gave Fred a haughty look. "Name's Pietro Maximoff," he teased. "I'm in charge around here 'cause I'm the best. Hang on, I gotta go to Chicago real quick and pick up a pizza." He froze momentarily before announcing, "'Kay, I'm back!"

Fred snorted, beginning to shake with the giggles. "That's him, all right!"

"Wait for it." Todd switched dresspheres, donning a brown vest over a black tee. Throwing his hands out front, palms up, and rolling his large eyes up into his head, he declared, "Hey, I'm gonna rock your world, yo! I'm gonna show you how to shake it! I got no idea how much that sounds like innuendo out loud to other people!"

Fred was now laughing out loud, nearly leaning against a shelf for support but deciding against it when he remembered that would probably topple it and shatter all of its stock.

Now Todd was dressed in a more feminine ensemble, bright scarlet. "Call me the Scarlet Witch!" he declared, making his face as serious as he could manage. "I'm gonna turn you into a toad, yo!" Switching back to his own default wardrobe, he answered back to himself, "Hate to break it to ya, but it's a little late for that!"

By now, Fred was losing it. And it took all his willpower not to collapse onto the floor laughing when Todd finally put on the overalls over a pea-green tee, punching his opposite palm and declaring gruffly, "Time to go punch a hole in a train!"

"Dude, STOP!" Fred managed between guffaws. "I don't sound like that!"

Switching back to his triple-layered shirts and the pants that hadn't yet been ripped in the knees (though it was really only a matter of time on that front), Todd tossed the last dressphere up and down, catching it neatly three times before nearly fumbling it on the fourth. "This is RAD, yo. Let's finish it out."

He and Fred sought out a few more alternate outfits for backup, plus some variants such as loose tees and shorts for sleepwear. Once they had amassed quite a pile of dresspheres, the shopkeeper popped by to ask, "Is everything going all right?"

"Goin' great," Fred responded.

"Can I get you a bag to wrap those up?" the shopkeeper offered. "I'll even throw in a free garment grid for each of you to store multiple outfits for quick changes!" As he said this, he withdrew a cloth bag adorned with a minimalist stitching of the Radiant Garden castle and placed it on the counter, laying two grids atop it as well.

Todd quickly adopted a comically theatrical somber face. "Wish we could," he sighed, "but we ain't got the dough to take any of this home. We was just playin' around, yo. Just give us a sec an' we'll put it all back."

The shopkeeper's face fell. He had been hoping to make quite a hefty sale. "I understand. But I hope you'll remember our selection if you ever do have the funds."

"C'mon, Freddie," Todd said as he gathered up the pile of dresspheres and headed into the store's rear. "Let's get this mess cleaned up."

"Are we seriously puttin' these back?" Fred hissed as they proceeded. "I thought we were gonna – "

"We are," Todd whispered back. "I got a plan. Just follow my lead."

The shopkeeper moved behind the counter to put away the bag and the garment grids. Before he could do so, however, an entire shelf toppled over, slamming into the nearest wall and spilling dresspheres across the carpet, a few of them shattering.

The shopkeeper rushed to the scene to see Fred, putting on his best shocked-yet-sheepish face, standing near the shelf. "Sorry, man!" Fred sputtered. "I was just tryin' to put one back, and then this happened!"

"Oh, don't worry about it," the shopkeeper said reassuringly. "I'll clean this up."

"Lemme help you!" Fred demanded. "I made the mess, so I should do somethin' about it!"

"Well…if you REALLY want to help, I'll find you a broom, but please be careful around the broken glass…"

While the shopkeeper's attention was diverted by this scene, Todd scooted behind the counter, filled the bag with the collected dresspheres from his shopping session, tossed in the garment grids, and then bounded out the door, turning to give a thumbs-up to Fred. Fred, giving Todd one glance that happened to be perfectly timed, returned the gesture.

Five minutes later, Fred exited the shop, having righted the shelf and cleaned up the scattered spheres from the floor; the shopkeeper hadn't yet noticed that the bag had gone missing, and later, when he did, he simply thought he'd misplaced it. It took Fred only a few moments to visually locate Todd, who had been chilling out on the shop's roof with the bag. Once the pair made eye contact, Todd leapt down onto the back of Fred's shoulders, passing the bag off to him; Fred rifled through it, looking at the amount of spheres Todd had managed to get away with. "Score!" Fred cried.

When they caught up with Lance and Wanda, who had managed to discreetly fill an entire cart with food (largely canned, bagged, sugary, or loaded with preservatives – Wanda's plea for fresh vegetables was overridden by Lance pointing out that they didn't yet know if they would have access to a refrigerator) without being noticed by a single vendor, Fred held out the bag excitedly for the pair to look at. "Check what we got!"

Wanda and Lance craned their heads to look at the contents of the bag. "Glass balls…?" Lance said in confusion.

"That's what I thought!" Todd replied excitedly. "But just WAIT till you see what these babies can do! Latverian tech is somethin' else!"

Wanda wondered if it really was "tech." These spheres looked like the sort of thing used in legitimate witchcraft. They looked like magic. But it was too early for her to make that call. It did, however, raise her suspicions about where they really were.

There was a light breeze, at first dismissed as a function of the weather until everyone heard Pietro's voice saying "You are not going to BELIEVE what I found."

Lance was the first to look up at him. "Oh yeah? You found somewhere we can rent?"

"BETTER," Pietro said with wide eyes, still stunned at his own discovery. "It's free real estate."

...

The two-story house had survived the damage of the past attacks on Radiant Garden, but its inhabitants had not. The entire family that had once populated it had been slain – half gunned down by Weasels and the remainder cornered by nightmarish creatures of Maleficent. The memories housed in its walls had no one to recall them. And so it sat, in the midst of a crowded residential district, fully furnished and somewhat lonely.

Lonely, that is, until the Brotherhood of Mutants crossed its threshold.

"All the furniture we need," Pietro explained as he led the others into the atrium, still amazed that he had come across such perfect property. "No T.V., but we can fix that later. Running water, hot and cold. Running heater. Working electricity. Five bedrooms. FIVE. THREE bathrooms. And NO ONE lives here."

"You sure?" Lance asked, giving the interior of the house a look-over, as he was able to see both the living room and the kitchen from this vantage point. "Maybe they're just out for the day. No one just…LEAVES a house full of furniture."

"That's what I thought!" Pietro replied. "But then explain THIS."

He grabbed Lance's arm, pulling him over to the nearest window. Pietro then swiped a finger across the sill in a motion almost too quick to perceive. His fingertip came away coated in dust. Lance noticed the clean strip he'd just made on the sill, right next to another that had obviously been from when Pietro first tested the surface for dust when he discovered the house.

"Is it perfect or is it perfect?" Pietro asked. "We're moving in NOW."

"Hang on," Lance halted him.

"Hang on?" Pietro repeated. "Hang on to WHAT? It's a FREE HOUSE!"

"We still have to test it out," Lance informed him. "Fred, go around and check the doors. Make sure they're big enough."

"Got it," Fred replied. He set off through the house's lower level, seeking every room he could find.

"The doors are fine!" Pietro insisted.

"I just want to double-check," Lance told him.

"You know he's gonna take forever."

"So we'll WAIT forever."

"Geez," Todd told Wanda, "they went right from pinin' to married."

Fred explored the house in entirety, finally coming down the stairs from the second level to report that "The doors are all big enough. They're actually COMFORTABLE."

"All right," Lance said with a nod. "One test down. One to go."

"What ELSE do we have to test?" Pietro sighed.

Lance replied with a smirk. "Foundation."

Pietro realized what Lance meant just in time to bolt out of the house; Lance's hands had flung outward, and the entire building began to quake.

Wanda put up her hands defensively, ready for any falling debris; Todd, yelping in fear, leapt at Fred, who caught him in both arms and cradled him gently.

Lance cranked the quake up to high power, jostling the furniture fiercely. The walls held firm, the ceiling refused to crack, and the floor did not yield. Satisfied, Lance ceased the quaking.

"WARN A GUY!" Pietro snapped as he stormed back into the house.

"Okay," Lance told him. "You were right. It's perfect."

"See?" Pietro spread his arms out. "Told you I'd come through." In a blink, he was at Lance's side, nudging him coyly. "So. Wanna go pick a room?"

"I want mine on the opposite side of the house from yours," Wanda said flatly.

"I call the biggest bed!" Fred announced.

The quintet scrambled upstairs, momentarily fighting over who got to ascend first but eventually all ending up in a position to roam the upper level and select appropriate bedrooms.

Before they scattered, Fred said, "Nice call."

Pietro turned to respond – to find Fred looking directly at Lance.

"Nice to know the place won't actually fall on our heads when you get in one of your moods," Todd added.

But Pietro was the one who had found the house. Why were they crediting Lance as though he were the only one to contribute just because he'd run a few tests? Pietro's mood soured.

Todd and Fred staked out the master bedroom on account of its Radiant Garden King-sized mattress. Wanda contented herself with the smallest room, taking note of the toys gathered in the corner and wondering what could have driven a child to leave them behind – there was no possible answer that sat well with her. Lance and Pietro planted their metaphorical flag in one of the remaining rooms, a happy medium between the extreme sizes of the other two their housemates occupied.

"I think I'm gonna like it here," Lance remarked as he looked around the room. Feeling a rumble in his stomach, he announced, "I'm gonna get started on dinner. It'd probably be breakfast time back home in Bayville."

"Yeah, sure." Pietro sat down on the bed, obviously sulking. "You go do that."

His frustration wasn't lost on Lance. "You…okay?"

"I'm fine," Pietro grumbled.

Lance had a suspicion this was again related to the chain of command. Maybe, he thought, if he could get Pietro's mind off the way he'd seized control of testing out the house, he could cheer him up. "I got chocolate syrup," he informed him. "Standard for breakfast, right?"

"Yeah," Pietro huffed.

Lance knew, then, what would really tickle Pietro's interest. "Hey. Pietro."

"What?"

"You found a house," Lance reminded him. "We're all moved in. You do know what that means, right?"

"It means we won't have to sleep on the sidewalk?"

"Well, yeah," Lance confirmed, sitting down on the bed next to Pietro, "but it ALSO means you have the rest of the day to go check out that huge castle."

Pietro's eyes widened. Lance knew he'd hit gold. Or perhaps "silver" was the more accurate expression.

"You saw those spheres Todd brought back," Lance reminded him. "If that's what they're selling to CIVILIANS, what do the ROYALS have?"

Pietro was immediately on his feet. "I'm on it," he told Lance. "I'll be back before you're done setting the table."

Lance considered telling Pietro to be safe. After all, in a new, strange place, he couldn't afford to lose the white-haired boy for whom he so cared. Yet he realized it would be the wrong thing to do. Because it would feel demeaning for Pietro to hear, yes, but more importantly, because Lance didn't actually know what could even be a threat to Pietro. The speed demon had outwitted and outrun dangers that could incapacitate anyone else. Lance had no doubt he'd be back soon and in one piece. So instead, he said, "Get me something cool."

"What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't pick up a trinket for my pookie?" Pietro teased.

"I'll also settle for you never calling me 'pookie' again," Lance laughed.

So Pietro set forth from the house, the bag from the dressphere emporium in hand, blazing down the streets of Radiant Garden so quickly, none of the civilians even took notice.

...

To Sora, Riku, Kairi, Mickey, Donald Duck, Goofy, and Lea, the sight of Yen Sid's tall, crooked tower was comfortingly familiar. They raced up the stairs that spiraled throughout the interior, passing through the astronomy-themed chambers along the way, with nary a glance given to their surroundings, as all had ascended these steps so many times before. Sora, in the lead, threw open the heavy wooden door at the top of the stairs.

"SORA!" Donald chided. "AT LEAST KNOCK!"

In his study at the zenith of the tower, Yen Sid, a tall, gray-bearded man clothed in a long robe of solid blue and a matching pointed hat decorated with symbols of golden stars and moons, was seated in a tall chair before a wide desk. At the arrival of his guests, he gave a small but earnest smile. "Welcome, warriors of light," he greeted. "I see you received my message."

"Sure did!" Goofy confirmed as the group filtered into the study.

"Lemme guess," Lea began. "This has to do with how we've been slackin' off on our training."

"I did indeed wish to speak to you about your training," Yen Sid affirmed, "but I would not be so quick to label your hiatus as 'slacking off.' I have seen in the stars that there are new Darknesses on the horizon, moving to take their place alongside the threat of Xehanort and his thirteen."

"Lemme guess," Sora spat. "Mozenrath."

"Indeed," Yen Sid confirmed. "The stars have whispered his name for some time now, in conjunction with those of his allies. It is a most unusual circumstance. Mozenrath and his companions seem to have come from almost nowhere, having been prior to recent events simple background noise against the grand symphony of Light and Dark. It is only once they joined forces that they became a melody played with prominence in fate. Perhaps they, too, have realized that the heart is the greatest weapon, and that hearts combined increase each other's power."

"I still don't buy it!" Sora snapped. "People like them don't make REAL friends!"

"I wouldn't count it out," Mickey warned. "I've seen lotsa surprisin' things. Maybe those fellas figurin' out the power of friendship is what makes 'em so dangerous."

"In addition," Yen Sid went on, "Maleficent's name has become ever more prominent as she, too, has gathered allies."

"Don't tell me SHE made friends too!" Sora said in shock.

"I wouldn't believe it myself," Riku admitted, "but during the time I spent with her, she did seem close to her allies. If they're not friends, she at least respects them. I think…maybe she loves them as much as it's possible for her to love anyone."

"Though I still have a hard time buyin' she was attached to that Pete guy," Lea admitted.

"Whatever happened to him?" Goofy mused. "I haven't seen him in a while."

"Nobody saw him in the Forbidden World," Mickey recalled. "Maybe Lea's onto something. I wonder if she…well, you know. Got rid of him."

"Nothin' ever gets Pete to go away!" Donald argued.

"I used to think that," Mickey replied, "but if he were still around, we woulda run into him by now. It's kind of a shame, really. We've been runnin' circles around each other for so long, and there were times I wondered if he was really that bad of a guy, y'know?" Mickey hung his head.

"So why'd you call us here?" Riku asked Yen Sid once more.

"With the advent of these new threats," Yen Sid explained, "it is now more important than ever that you accelerate your training. Those of you who wield Keyblades must learn new skills that will allow you to better fend off the gathering foes."

Sora's eyes sparkled as he recalled Merlin's reference to a certain Keybearer tradition of old: "Like how to summon up armor?"

"Indeed," Yen Sid said with a nod, "as well as how to use the Keyblade to travel from world to world without the need for a Gummi ship. As for Donald and Goofy, there are techniques you may learn to support the others in battle. I have a suspicion that combined, you may all be the seven lights Xehanort has planned to oppose."

"We're ready to learn," Kairi asserted.

Yen Sid gave a nod. "From this moment forth, I would like all of you not otherwise occupied by a mission to report to this tower every morning at eight."

"EIGHT?" Sora, Donald, and Goofy cried in unison, obviously dismayed.

Seeing their shock, Yen Sid couldn't help but allow them some reprieve. "On second thought, nine will suffice. I have arranged for the train to run back and forth between here and the Radiant Garden station as it is needed, which will allow you to arrive more quickly and conveniently than by taking a Gummi ship. Each morning session will take two hours at most. After all, you are all courting a host of other responsibilities."

"We'll be here," Riku promised.

"You can count on us!" Sora agreed.

"I'm excited to learn what you have to show us!" Kairi chirped.

"You will learn more than technique," Yen Sid explained. "There is also knowledge I have yet to impart regarding your fate."

"That sounds ominous," Riku replied.

"You needn't fear," Yen Sid reassured him. "The tale I have to tell will put new obstacles into your path, but there is no doubt you will overcome them. The pain of the past must be healed, and wrongs righted."

Mickey knew immediately what Yen Sid was referring to. "Master Yen Sid, maybe now's the time – "

"Not yet," Yen Sid told Mickey. "After all, this was an impromptu appointment. I do not wish to take up your precious time this day."

Mickey's mind was now in a place where it often wandered: to the memories of his three lost friends. He knew Yen Sid wanted Sora and the others to help Mickey rescue them from their slumber. In private conversation, Yen Sid had always told Mickey to keep the tale under wraps, as it would inspire the impetuous Sora to risk his life and possibly lose it in an ill-guided attempt to spearhead a half-baked rescue mission. But Mickey knew the real reason Yen Sid wanted the story kept secret. It was because when Yen Sid looked at the group that stood before him, particularly at Sora, Riku, and Kairi, he saw reflections of the hearts of the missing three. Their tale had ended in abject tragedy: a tragedy that could be linked to Keybearing. After all, had none of them studied the blade, all would have lived out normal lives. Furthermore, Yen Sid was always reticent to speak of his own past training with his two fellow Keybearers, and Mickey had reason to believe a tragedy had befallen them, too – especially given the fate he knew had come to one and the legacy still being written by the other. Sora, Riku, Kairi, and Lea were all bright-eyed and optimistic – even the once-jaded Lea. To them, Keybearing was a sacred yet fun destiny that brought them adventure and the capacity to do good and help others. Yen Sid obviously feared that if he revealed the tale of the three lost seekers, it would cast a dark cloud over their hopes. They would come to fear that holding the blades would now lead them to a terrible end. Out of respect, Mickey had withheld the tragic history from his friends and asked Donald and Goofy to do the same, waiting to let Yen Sid impart the knowledge. It seemed to Mickey that nothing could quench Sora's hope, and his friends would become infected by it and follow his lead, but all the same, he could not say that with complete certainty. Time would tell.

"That is all I wished to tell you," Yen Sid stated. "Of course, this was also an experiment to make sure the train worked as intended. It is also connected to Twilight Town, as it was before, and it may carry others besides yourselves."

"Who else would it need to carry here?" Sora asked.

Yen Sid smiled enigmatically. "Only the stars know."

"Well, we'll be here at nine o'clock sharp tomorrow!" Sora promised. "I can't wait! We're already so good, when we get real training to become like the Keybearers of the past, we'll be unstoppable!"

"I eagerly await our first sesson," Yen Sid replied. "Though I encourage you to have sufficient breakfast before you arrive, I will have tea ready."

The seven who had become Yen Sid's new hope gave him a synchronized salute before departing. As he watched them exit his study, he hoped desperately that they would not fall to the same horrors that had clutched the lost three…nor the schisms that had separated Yen Sid from his own colleagues and inspired him to prioritize sorcery over the blade.

On the way down the stairs and all the way back to the train, the seven chatted eagerly about what they might learn, with Mickey, Donald, and Goofy hinting at some old techniques they'd heard of and Sora, Riku, Kairi, and Lea theorizing new hypotheticals that would be interesting to master. Onboard the train headed back to Radiant Garden, the conversation continued.

None noticed that the track diverted from where it had previously run, giving the route to Yen Sid's tower a wide berth before reconnecting to the Radiant Garden train station and lengthening the ride by a few minutes. The reason for this, of course, was because the returning train was adjusting to let the incoming train pass by without collision.

...

Ienzo closed the door on the small safe to which all the magical artifacts had been transferred, giving the combination lock dial a spin. It was a temporary solution, but he'd already gotten complaints from several passerby about needing to use the table space to eat.

He regarded his notes once more as he exited the room. Looking up to make sure he wasn't about to run headlong into a wall or a piece of furniture, he spied Merlin making his way down the hall. "Ah, Merlin!" he greeted.

"Ienzo!" Merlin replied. "You were seeking me, were you not?"

Ienzo knew better than to question how Merlin knew that. "Well, perhaps not actively, but I was hoping I could get your advice if I ran into you." He flipped to a certain page of his notes. "I've been giving this vault heavy consideration. It needs to be able to securely contain the volatile and conflicting magics of these artifacts while simultaneously protecting them from outside threats, both magical and nonmagical. The obvious solution, of course, is to construct the entire chamber out of Orichalcum. However, you know quite well that Orichalcum is hard to come by, even for us."

"That I do," Merlin said with a nod. "I often find in a pinch, a Orichalcum alloy can be bolstered with Serenity crystals to produce a similar effect. It wouldn't be as strong as pure Orichalcum, but it would be close to it."

Ienzo noted that down. "That is exactly the sort of advice I was hoping you could give. Now, I also wanted a second opinion. You see, the idea occurred to me that by adding a Chaos crystal to the mix, I could better contain – "

"Oh, no, no, nononononono!" Merlin protested hurriedly. "I would absolutely NOT trust a Chaos crystal in this situation. I can see where you might have gotten the idea, given the nature of the conflicting magics involved, but rather than compensate for the difference, a Chaos crystal would only add its own brand of instability and produce unforeseen results. Might I suggest a Wellspring crystal instead? It will bolster the effects of the entire alloy to neutralize any adverse reactions. A Twilight crystal might also compensate for the balance of Light and Dark present. I would recommend setting the Wellspring crystal and the Twilight crystal in conjunction with each other, connected by a sigil so they may play off each other's energies."

Ienzo scribbled furiously. "I never would've thought of that," he confessed. "You truly are all-knowing."

"I wouldn't go that far, my boy. I've simply had centuries in which to study. There is a great deal I don't know."

"I would imagine there isn't much that escapes you."

There were a lot of things that escaped Merlin. For example, both he and Ienzo failed to notice the blur zooming into the room they were slowly leaving behind.

Pietro had been amazed so far by what he had observed inside the castle. For one thing, while he had expected entry to be easy for one such as himself, he hadn't noticed a single security camera, which seemed out of place for a country that was supposedly so technology-forward. For another, the architecture was nothing short of bizarre. The lifts looked like the fever dream of a fantasy novelist, and Pietro wasn't sure he hadn't taken the same lift three times over by accident, given that none of them seemed to go straight up like a normal elevator. He'd managed to avoid running into any other living beings, making quick detours as soon as he heard or saw signs of anyone coming. All the while, he had kept an eye out for treasure to loot. There were signs aplenty that this castle was a symbol of wealth and prestige, all present in the décor, but nothing yet that could be taken.

Until Pietro reached the room with the giant and obvious combination safe. "Hello."

It took him but a moment to spin through every possible combination until the door popped open, allowing him to note the array of artifacts inside. "You couldn't have made this any more tempting if you'd gift-wrapped it for me," he remarked slyly before beginning to fill the bag.

In no time, he had cleared the safe. The bag was heavy, and Pietro didn't suppose he would find anything better than the baubles and trinkets he'd stumbled upon here. The tough part would be deciding which one to present to Lance. The brunette was surely worthy of the conglomerate Dust crystal with its multicolored facets, but the shining Aurora shards also seemed a fitting representation of affection. Perhaps the solution was just to let Lance have his pick.

Satisfied, Pietro bolted, making his way back out of the labyrinthine castle.

Ienzo was none the wiser. After all, he had no reason to suspect that the items would move from their safe. It was locked. And so, when planning vault construction took up the rest of the day and promised to continue to the next, Ienzo retired to bed without checking up on the items, feeling certain that they still rested where he had left them.

...

Peter stared out of the star-shaped windows of the interdimensional train with childlike wonder. The colors outside indicated that the train was passing through interspace, just like a Gummi ship. It was a good deal more comfortable than travel by ship, though, owing to the plush seats. Peter was still firmly planted in a sitting position on them, simply twisting his upper body one hundred and eighty degrees to look out the window.

"Stunning view," Peter commented, "isn't it?"

His only response was an apathetic grunt.

Sensing something dreadfully amiss, Peter swiveled back around in his seat to look directly at Garfield. The latter was hunched over, hands clasped by his knees, gaze planted firmly at the ground.

"A penny for your thoughts," Peter told him cheerfully, though he knew exactly what was on Garfield's mind, and it was far from a cheerful thought.

"I…left her to die," Garfield reiterated.

"We both did," Peter reminded him.

"Sure, you watched it happen," Garfield replied, "but I was the one who brought her all the way down to the ground and just…left her. And, I mean, she told me to go, so I thought that meant I should go, but…I didn't even think about HER." His voice shook as he went on. "I know we're supposed to be the bad guys and all, but we're FRIENDS. Or…we WERE friends. I wasn't supposed to stab her in the back like that. Not again. Not after Phosphorus. And now I can't stop thinkin' about it. I sold her out. What's to say I wouldn't sell you out the same way? I threw her out like nothing mattered, and you know what? Maybe nothing does matter. Maybe it's all just one big load of crud I couldn't care less about.

"And that's when I get to thinkin'…this is a train. Train's gotta have an engine, right? I've got my tank in the bag. All it would take is a quick hookup and a few shots to overload it. Boom goes the train, right up in flames. And me with it. But I'm not gonna do that, because you're on this same train, and I promised myself, and I promised you, I'd never do that to you again, and even if I am the kind of person who would leave his best friend to die, I'm not gonna let anything happen to you, but all I can think about is everything in this stupid train going up in flames one last time before – "

He felt a hand seize his shoulder gently. Peter was now sitting next to him rather than across from him. He hadn't even noticed.

A sigh. "I'm…not as over Phosphorus as any of us want me to be," Garfield said softly.

Peter knew. He was well aware that in this time of emotional turmoil and guilt, Garfield's recurring intrusive thoughts had a wide open playground. He had no way of getting into Garfield's head to fend off the impulses of destruction. What he could do, and what he did do, was slowly move his hand down to break Garfield's hands apart from each other, interlacing the fingers of his right hand with those of Garfield's left in such a twisted way that Garfield couldn't extricate his hand of his own volition.

Garfield had no intention of doing any such thing, instead tightening his grip on Peter's hand. "I'm not actually gonna do it."

"I know," Peter said in an even tone, the smile never dropping from his face.

"I just can't stop thinking about it."

"I know."

"Nothing to burn, either. Just gotta ride it out, I guess."

"You will."

A slight smile from Garfield. "She always told me just to let it happen. Not to fight it. I'd find something else to think about afterward. And people said she wasn't a real psychologist."

"She truly is brilliant."

Garfield straightened up in his seat, closing his eyes and leaning over to rest his head on Peter's shoulder. "Thanks," he muttered.

"Ever a pleasure."

"Heh. I doubt that." A pause. "I love you."

"I love you too, Garfield."

They rode in silence for some time before Peter ventured, "We will find her, you know."

"You're sure?"

"Have we ever truly let anything slip away that we had our hearts set on pursuing?"

"You have a point," Garfield admitted.

Peter knew that Garfield's mind was a minefield then, that he could only think of the worst that could be. Despite everything, Peter himself was unshakingly confident. Harley would be found. Harley would be safe. And things between the three of them would be as they had been before. It would simply be a little difficult to get there, that was all. But everything would turn out all right in the end, and if Garfield couldn't believe that, Peter would have to do it for both of them.

...

A Corridor of Darkness opened up in the back alleys of Radiant Garden, spilling out Mozenrath and Yzma. "And so it begins," Mozenrath remarked as he looked toward the castle.

"What exactly are we doing, again?" Yzma asked, hoping Mozenrath wasn't just winging it. Then again, winging it was preferable to throwing a tantrum in bed.

"Forming our plan of attack," Mozenrath answered, passing her the compass. "The first step is to circle the perimeter and get as close as we can while using the compass to see if we can narrow down the general wing of the castle where our items are being held, if they are in fact all being held in the same place."

"Understood." She willed the compass to seek out the Cornerstone of Light as the pair began walking. When the compass gave her an answer that she was certain was wrong, Yzma fixed it upon the Fused Shadow instead. To her surprise, the answer was the same.

"Then we analyze the information we have," Mozenrath went on. "If we can exploit anything we've learned about our do-gooders, we will. There is, after all, potential in my showing up in front of Aladdin and claiming to be on the path to redemption. Of course, we have to play this carefully. We are, after all, entering enemy territory while simultaneously being adjacent to more enemy territory, which is to say Villain's Vale. If we can make this quiet, we should."

Yzma banged on the compass with her fist, trying to get it to work properly. Her focus drifted away from Mozenrath the more she became annoyed with the little device.

"Though that's not to rule out entry by a weak point," Mozenrath continued. "A castle this big will have multiple entrances. Side doors. Back entries. Even if we can't teleport inside or use a Corridor, we can get in the old-fashioned way. And if nothing else, we can always just walk right into – "

Yzma, not looking at where she was going, walked right into a street lamp, as a matter of fact.

"Yzma?" Mozenrath sighed, rolling his eyes. "Were you even listening?"

"Stupid idiot little – " She gritted her teeth. "Vexen's barely functional compass isn't even working anymore!"

"And by that you mean…?"

"Look!" Yzma put the compass before Mozenrath, close to his face. "See where it's pointing?"

"Yes…" Mozenrath replied, not quite sure what Yzma was getting at. The needle was aimed back and away from the Radiant Garden castle.

"Well?" Yzma replied. "YOU try it. Ask it where the Elements of Harmony are."

Mozenrath swiped the compass; "Give me that." Then, speaking clearly, he commanded the device, "Show us the Elements of Harmony."

The needle didn't move.

"Point the way to the Dragon's Eye," Mozenrath attempted.

The compass remained firmly in place.

"See?" Yzma groaned.

At first, Mozenrath was inclined to be similarly annoyed, but then the implications hit home. "Show me the way to the Radiant Garden castle," he told the compass.

The needle immediately swiveled around to indicate the great bastion.

"And where is Aladdin?" Mozenrath asked.

The compass remained fixed upon the castle.

"Now tell me where the Celestial Brush went," Mozenrath told it.

Once again, the needle turned to point away.

"I don't think it's broken," he informed Yzma. "I think it just saved us a headache. Everything we lost isn't actually in the castle."

"Well, then, where is it?" Yzma asked, dumbfounded.

Mozenrath pivoted to follow the compass' direction. "Wherever this takes us," he answered. "Of course they thought they could be clever and hide it."

Yzma trotted after Mozenrath as they made their way down winding streets, guided only by the compass.

When they reached their destination, neither could really believe where they'd been led. "It's a house," Yzma observed. "Just an ordinary house."

"Set among a block of similarly ordinary houses," Mozenrath picked up. "Exactly where they knew we wouldn't look for our artifacts. It's nowhere special. It's easily confused with the buildings to the left and right of it. What better hiding place than this? Now, how to make an entrance. Certainly they wouldn't leave the artifacts unguarded. They're not that big of idiots."

"We could just blow the door in," Yzma told him. "Add some smoke for effect. A pinch of glitter."

"We could," Mozenrath agreed with a nod. "Minus the glitter, of course. But part of me wants to see the look on their face when we just knock politely. They open up, and guess who's there?"

"Eh, it's not very showy," Yzma complained, "but it will be rather delicious."

The pair made their way up to the front door, where Mozenrath raised his right hand and rapped firmly upon the wood.

Inside the dining room, chaos reigned. Lance called out to Pietro to "THINK FAST!" before chucking the Dragon's Eye at the corner of the room; Pietro slid in just in time to catch it.

"'Think fast' is just how I live," Pietro replied as he launched the orb back at Lance, who caught it deftly.

"Yo, Freddie!" Todd settled the Fused Shadow over his head as if it were an ordinary helmet. "How do I look?"

"Pretty awesome!" Fred replied. "Y'know what else is awesome?" He gave the container housing the six souls a hard shake. "This thing. It's gonna make a sweet lava lamp."

"Will you all put those things down?" Wanda hissed. "I've seen things like that before! You're all messing with REAL MAGIC!"

"Calm down," Pietro groaned. "There's not gonna be any actual magic lyin' around. This is all just expensive jewelry."

"And a sweet vintage wine," Todd added, having abandoned the Fused Shadow in favor of shaking the vial of Spirit Water up.

"I'm serious," Wanda insisted. "I still don't know exactly what we got ourselves into. But these things are POWERFUL." She lifted the shrunken Cornerstone for all to see. "Does this look like ordinary jewelry to you?" Tapping the glass, she drew attention to the pulsing light at the stone's heart.

"Well, magic or not," Lance pointed out, "someone's gonna want it back eventually. Then we can make our terms."

"And if not…" Todd shrugged dramatically. "That's what the black market's for, right?"

The knock resounded through the house.

"I'll bet that's a prospective buyer right now," Pietro said with a smirk. "Let's see how much they're willing to shell out."

Mozenrath certainly hadn't expected the door to be answered by a thin teenage boy with snow-white hair, let alone one who leaned his back casually against the door frame and asked "What do you want?" with a smug tone that suggested he knew something Mozenrath didn't. This one didn't seem to match the description of anyone Garfield and Snatcher had brought back a profile on, which either meant the Radiant Garden crew had made some new friends (more than likely) or there was more here than met the eye.

"I believe you have something of mine," Mozenrath replied coolly. "Several things, in fact."

"Oh yeah?" Pietro replied, raising an eyebrow cockily. "Like what?"

"Oh, just some odds and ends," Mozenrath replied. "A pair of glass spheres with opposing functions, six gems with oddly cutesy shapes, a calligraphy brush, a vial of what would seem like ordinary water…"

"You're the real deal, all right," Pietro responded. "We've been waiting for you."

Mozenrath wasn't sure what to make of this. "Is that a threat?"

"I would prefer to resolve this without violence," Pietro replied.

"Of course you would," Mozenrath groaned. "I never was able to make sense out of you all deciding to take the high road and swear off killing. Let me guess: you're now in the phase where you just want to hug it out."

"Ew, no," Pietro replied with a cringe. "I was thinking more like laying down an agreement."

"You'll let me have one of my hard-earned artifacts back if I cease my reign of mayhem?" Mozenrath mocked. "What, the Dust? Or the Spirit Water? The most harmless token in exchange for a little peace and quiet? Try again."

"Mozenrath," Yzma broke in, "I'm starting to think these aren't the people you think they are."

"Look, buddy," Pietro told Mozenrath, "I don't care what you do in your spare time. I just care about how much you're willing to part with if you wanna see your stuff again."

"Wait." Mozenrath blinked. "You're not…affiliated with Sora."

"Who's Sora?"

"Or Aladdin."

"I don't KNOW any of your friends, okay?" Pietro snapped. "You're like the prince of this country, right? If you want that stuff back in your castle – "

"MY castle?" Mozenrath blurted. "If that were MY castle, I'd have burned it to the ground and rebuilt it from the ground up to purge the residual goodwill and odor of sugar cookies from the corners."

"And there went an opportunity to play a convincing role that would've gotten those artifacts back in our hands," Yzma sighed.

"If you don't know who we are," Mozenrath went on, "and if you have no idea who lives in that castle, then the only reason you would have any of the things I'm looking for is…"

"Because I'm VERY good at getting what I want," Pietro said smugly, folding his arms.

Mozenrath found himself caught up in a mild bout of laughter. "You…you actually STOLE the artifacts from under their noses. All my hard work and planning, and you went ahead and did all the difficult parts for me. Really, I should thank you, but first, I want my artifacts back. I happen to need them far more than anyone who lives in the building from which you liberated them ever could and ever will."

"Well, don't tell him THAT!" Yzma hissed.

"He's a teenager," Mozenrath groaned. "What's he going to do to stop us?"

"Oh, gee, where have I heard that before?" Yzma asked sarcastically. "Oh, yes: FROM EVERYONE WHO'S EVER UNDERESTIMATED YOU."

"The point is I would like all twelve of my things returned unharmed," Mozenrath told Pietro.

"I think we can arrange that," Pietro replied. "For about fifty grand."

If it meant taking the easy way, Mozenrath was prepared to make a transaction. However, that was larger than his current funds would allow. "That seems a bit exorbitant, don't you think?"

"That's the point," Pietro replied slyly.

"All right," Mozenrath sighed. "Fifty thousand munny – "

"EACH," Pietro added, his smirk turning ever more lopsided.

Now that was far more than Mozenrath was willing to accommodate. "No," he said flatly as Yzma gaped at Pietro's audacity.

"You need them more than anyone else ever could and ever will," Pietro reminded him. "If that's really true, you'll be willing to pay up to get them back."

"Now LISTEN HERE, YOU LITTLE WORM!" Yzma shook her finger in Pietro's face, less than amused when he made no reaction whatsoever. "We aren't about to take any lip from you, and we CERTAINLY aren't going to pay your ridiculously high price to get back what WE had a claim to FIRST!"

By then, Wanda, Lance, Fred, and Todd had all filtered into the atrium behind Pietro, listening in on every word of the confrontation.

"Extortion doesn't work on me," Mozenrath added, flexing the fingers of his right hand. "The price of our artifacts just dropped to an even zero. Because I don't let brats like you boss me around." He turned the hand to face Pietro. "I see what's mine…and take it."

A burst of blue erupted from his fingers, colliding with an off-guard Pietro and sending him flying back into the house. Lance stepped into position to catch him, screaming "PIETRO!" in a panic.

"I'm fine…" Pietro croaked hoarsely from his daze.

Mozenrath and Yzma strolled into the house side-by-side. "Search the place," Mozenrath told Yzma. "That idiot kid more than likely left them out in plain sight."

"HEY!" Lance lay Pietro in a sitting position up against the nearest wall. "You don't get to do that to our friend!"

"And who's gonna stop me?" Mozenrath sneered.

"Again, EVERYONE who ever underestimated you," Yzma groaned.

Lance's arms extended forth; his eyes rolled back. The ground began to vibrate intensely; Mozenrath and Yzma wobbled to keep their balance. Tiring quickly of the sudden display of power, Mozenrath seized Yzma's forearm, lifting her and himself off the floor to levitate in midair.

"That's some crazy mutation, yo!" Todd cried in surprise.

"If you don't know who I am," Mozenrath seethed as his hand glowed with blue energy, charging up a massive reservoir of power waiting to be released, "then allow me to introduce myself. I am Mozenrath, and you WILL use my name when you BEG ME FOR MERCY."

He turned the hand upon the quartet, firing a steady stream of electric blue.

What he didn't expect was for an equally strong beam of red to intercept it, catching it at a midpoint.

"So you have a sorceress," Mozenrath jeered, turning his gaze to Wanda. "How cute. The little girl thinks she can face me."

"The little girl," Wanda growled, "just watched you hurt her BROTHER."

Without letting up on the stream of red, Wanda called all the furniture in the vicinity to her disposal. Without warning, Mozenrath was pummeled with the kitchen chairs, the living room sofa, and several end tables. His concentration wavered, the blue beginning to flicker and fizzle.

"No!" he growled. "NO! I…will not be beaten…by a bunch of TEENAGERS!"

That was when Wanda's magic overtook his own, overwhelming him.

He flew out the front door and about thirty feet down the street, scraping hard against the cobblestone, though nothing in his body hurt as much as his ego.

Left alone in the house without Mozenrath's magic to support her, Yzma dropped to the floor. "I…should really be going," she said with a wide, nervous grin.

"Yeah," Fred agreed, stepping to the front of the crowd and giving her a more self-assured smile. "You should."

He seized both of her upper arms; she let out a small squeak.

Fred launched Yzma out the door at the same speed and trajectory that Wanda had blasted Mozenrath; the moment Mozenrath had peeled himself off the street, Yzma faceplanted next to him.

"AN' STAY OUT, YO!" Todd yelled from far behind before the door to the house slammed shut.

"That does it," Mozenrath seethed, whirling to fix the house in a vicious glare. "We're coming back here with greater numbers to RAZE THAT HOUSE AND LEAVE NOTHING BUT ASHES WITH FIVE CHARRED SKELETONS BURIED BENEATH."

"What happened to keeping this quiet?" Yzma reminded him as she stood, assessing her first her dress for any rips and then her skin for any scrapes. "What happened to being smack-dab between enemy territory and more enemy territory? We have an opportunity to take our artifacts back without Sora OR Maleficent knowing we're here! Do you really want to bring both of them down upon our heads?"

"No," Mozenrath growled, "but what else do you suggest we do? I REFUSE to be kept away from what is MINE by a bunch of TEENAGERS."

"You really don't get the concept of hypocrisy, do you?" Yzma sighed. "But enough of that. You know very well the other path we can take. If we don't want to use brute force, and for the best chance of having them hand over what they took without charging a cent…"

"Let me guess," Mozenrath sighed. "Something involving a herd of zebras, a spoon, and an enormous disco ball. Someone also gets turned into a naked mole rat at some point."

"No," Yzma growled, "the OTHER other path."

"We set Archibald Snatcher on them like a Thirdac on a cache of crystals," Mozenrath realized. "He sweet-talks them, puts on the charm…"

"And we get what we want," Yzma concluded. "We do have to give him something to go on, though. This will require more recon missions. Constant stalking. Night-vision goggles."

"Or we could go the simple route," Mozenrath argued, flicking his wrist. A small beetle comprised entirely of brilliant blue magical energy appeared pinched between his index finger and thumb. "A little spell we in the magical community like to call…bugging."

He tossed the beetle to the ground, and it scurried toward the Brotherhood's abode at top speed. "Once I tap into the bug," Mozenrath explained, "I'll be able to see and hear everything that goes on in that house. No one can so much as sneeze without my noticing. With luck, we should have some exploitable material within a night or two."

"That would be the smarter and more convenient route to go," Yzma said with a forced nod.

Mozenrath sighed. "And I promise we'll find a different mission for you to wear night-vision goggles."

"Throw in a necessity for me to be lowered from a ceiling by guy wires and I'll be satisfied."

"I'm sure the opportunity will come along."

Mozenrath cast a Corridor that brought himself and Yzma back home.

...

To Peter and Garfield, the sight of Yen Sid's tall, crooked tower was the opposite of comfortingly familiar. Situated in a place that could only truly be described as "the middle of nowhere" and rising up into a sky that looked as though it were experiencing only the very first traces of dawn, the only way in which the structure was not bent was its refusal to bend to convention.

"I'm not too sure about this," Garfield stated as he craned his head upward to see the pinnacle, "but it's literally the only thing here."

"I think it looks rather promising, actually," Peter mused.

"Yeah, you would like something that crooked," Garfield observed with a smile.

Peter executed a series of somersaults that ended in him rising next to the tower's double doors, adorned with a star and a moon, and easing one half open. "Shall we?"

The interior of the tower recalled the half-light of the outdoors with its cream-colored walls and its lavender stairway: a stairway that spiraled around the tower's interior, up and up and up.

"No elevator, huh?" Garfield commented.

"Pity," Peter sighed. "No buttons to push on the way up."

"Okay, on second thought, kinda glad there's no elevator."

The stairs changed color the further up the pair ascended, shifting from lavender to baby blue to seaweed green. On the route to the top, the duo passed first through a room decorated with glowing stars on the walls, then through one emblazoned with crescent moon emblems.

"I'm gettin' a vibe of some kind of space-themed villain," Garfield hypothesized. "Some guy who calls himself the Astronaut or somethin'."

"Or perhaps Rocket Man," Peter suggested. "Using entire missiles as his basis of attack."

"No, I'm bettin' the guy found a way to create fields of zero gravity and suck all the air out."

"Creative."

But they both knew they weren't in Gotham anymore, and trying to apply Gotham logic to such an un-Gotham-like place simply wasn't going to turn them up the right answer.

A final stretch of beige stairs brought them to the heavy wooden door. Not even stopping to think of etiquette, they shoved it wide open.

Yen Sid sat beyond, looking to them in a way that made it clear he had expected both of them. "Please," he beckoned, "do enter."

They didn't belong. That much was clear as Peter and Garfield crossed the study. This was a place for old magic, and more importantly, for those of the light. Not for common criminals to request an audience with what was clearly a wizard (they would have, months ago, thought him dressed up as a gimmick, but life with Mozenrath had taught them better). Still, they'd come this far; they couldn't rightly turn back. Yen Sid saw the discomfort spelled out on Garfield's face and hidden behind Peter's ubiquitous smile. "How may I help you?" Yen Sid asked to break the ice.

Peter and Garfield looked to each other first, wondering what the appropriate response could possibly be. After all, they'd just barged into this man's house without actually knowing anything about him or if he could be helpful – and they hadn't even intended to steal anything from him, either.

Sensing they needed a bit more guidance, Yen Sid prompted, "You are seeking something."

That was enough for Peter to latch onto. "Indeed we are," he confirmed as he turned to face Yen Sid. "SomeONE, more accurately."

"A friend, perhaps?" Yen Sid asked.

"Yeah," Garfield confirmed. "To make a long story short, we're pretty sure she's in trouble, and we gotta get her out of it."

"Quite the quandary," Yen Sid said with a solemn nod. "Put your worries to rest. I will do all in my power to locate your missing companion."

"Just like that?" Garfield was taken aback. "You're not gonna charge us or anything?"

"I can sense your need," Yen Sid replied, "and I want for nothing. I can tell how your hearts yearn, though I know no specifics."

"No idea who we are?" Peter asked. "Not even an inkling that you've seen our faces on the evening news?"

"I gather my news from different sources than what you are accustomed to," Yen Sid responded. "I don't suppose I should be worried about either of you."

"There's no reason to be," Peter replied coolly. "We're just a couple of travelers, a little bent out of shape."

"Kinda fired up," Garfield added.

"I see," Yen Sid replied. "I shan't be the one to judge either of you. Why don't you tell me who you seek?"

"Her name is Harley," Garfield stated. "Harley Quinn."

"Technically, Harleen Quinzel," Peter corrected.

"Here comes the part where you really shouldn't ask too many questions," Garfield went on, "but the last time we saw her was on that world Maleficent made up for herself with that book thing."

"Ah, yes," Yen Sid said somberly. "The Forbidden World."

"You wouldn't happen to have a train station there, would you?" Peter suggested.

"I am afraid not," Yen Sid replied. "Unfortunately, after the Book of Prophecies was unraveled, the Forbidden World was destroyed by Maleficent herself in order to rid it of her enemies. Not a living soul remains where it once existed."

The news hit like a ton of bricks. "No," Garfield replied, flushing with shock. "No, no, no, no, no. That's wrong. That didn't happen. We left her there, RIGHT THERE, and there's NO WAY she…" He didn't finish the sentence.

"Surely there must be some room for error," Peter suggested.

"I am afraid there is none," Yen Sid replied. "Your friend is not on the Forbidden World, as there is no longer a Forbidden World to exist."

Peter immediately turned to face Garfield, who was staring at the floor, beads of sweat breaking out over his forehead. "No," Garfield said softly. "It's gone…and…she's gone…" Suddenly, a passionate yell: "SHE'S DEAD BECAUSE I LEFT HER! I KILLED HER!"

"Now, now," Peter said hurriedly, "we don't know that for certain."

"You HEARD what he SAID!" Garfield tore his gaze away from the floor and met Peter's with ferocity. "That world is GONE! NO survivors! And if I knew that, I wouldn't have…" He shook his head. "I should've known that, though! That's exactly what Maleficent would do! That's exactly what she DID do! And the last thing I ever said to Harley…was that if I helped her escape, then the others would…"

He spun, throwing a punch at the wall of the study. Pain shot through his hand upon the collision with the sturdy wall; he hadn't broken any bone, but he scarcely cared.

"The Forbidden World has indeed been destroyed," Yen Sid explained, "but…perhaps we should not give up hope."

"What hope is there?" Garfield growled, still facing the wall. "She had no way of getting out. I was her only chance, and I blew it."

A hand on his shoulder. "My hands aren't clean either," Peter reminded him. "I took on the role of the spectator without making so much as a comment."

"Strange things occur among the worlds," Yen Sid encouraged. "Miracles have been known to happen. Perhaps your friend escaped before the blast that ended the world."

"She always was the resourceful one," Peter reminded Garfield.

"Look, I'm not getting my hopes up," Garfield sighed, turning back to look first at Peter, then at Yen Sid. "It's time I own up. I picked the wrong side, and it got Harley killed. We got the answer we came for. Let's just go."

Peter turned to give Yen Sid a look that betrayed his curiosity, his hope. "You seemed eager to suggest that little possibility," he told the sorcerer. "Would you really propose it without a way to prove it?"

"There are spells that may illuminate hidden truths," Yen Sid explained. "A simple locator would allow us to know whether she yet lived. If either of you could provide a possession of hers, I could cast it."

"Fresh out of those, I'm afraid," Peter replied. "Got anything else?"

"It is somewhat of an uncertainty," Yen Sid replied. "It may yield a result, or it may bring only silence. Should this spell fail, it is not indicative of the fate of your friend. But there is a charm used by wielders of a certain mystical blade to bind the fates of colleagues. It hearkens back to a tradition born of an island where a tree of legend is said to intertwine the destinies of those who partake in its fruit. The name of this spell is Unbreakable Connection, and it is cast from one friend to another to create a link between hearts, bringing into proximity even those separated by the distance of a hundred worlds or more. With your friend absent, there is no certainty the spell will succeed. After all, it only links those who are truly friends. Should she have cast the both of you out of her heart after whatever betrayal she suffered at your hands, her heart will be unwilling to receive the charm. Furthermore, items shared among the bonded parties are used to carry the charm. The reception will be weak without access to an item she possesses to house her memories of you. However, it is still worth an attempt. Produce an item that can hold your memories of her, and I will cast Unbreakable Connection. There is yet a chance that you will be able to hear her heart reaching out to you, if she has not perished and if she so wishes for you to receive her message. From there, you will know where she has gone and what has become of her. I have seen it work under seemingly impossible circumstances in my own past, calling a dutiful friend to her companion through a wall of Darkness and across a clouded mind. The choice is yours, but I would feel remiss if we did not at least make an attempt."

"And the point would be?" Garfield sighed. "Just to be reminded that she's dead again?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to give up hope." Peter reached beneath his shirt, producing a clear crystal pendant. "This may not be the most sentimental item, but will it do?"

"Where'd you even get that?" Garfield asked.

"All the way back in Sei'an," Peter replied; Garfield immediately recalled their stealing spree.

Yen Sid beckoned with a hand. "Give it to me."

Peter removed the pendant from around his neck, placing it in the sorcerer's outstretched palm. Yen Sid's fingers closed over it for a moment, and his hand glowed with a bright light. When the fingers uncurled, the pendant shimmered softly. Peter took it back almost reverently.

"Now listen," Yen Sid bade them. "Perhaps what you want to hear is what awaits."

Garfield heaved a great sigh. "Fine. I'll play. But we all know it's a losing game."

"Where's that spark of yours, Garfield?" Peter replied. "No matter the outcome here, you know it's going to be my mission to light it again."

"Well, if anyone could, it'd be you," Garfield said with a weak smile. "Okay, so we're listening to see if the necklace talks. Still not convinced, but let's do this."

He folded his hand over Peter's so they both made physical contact with the crystal. Then they waited. It seemed an eternity of silence.

Obviously, the spell hadn't worked, Garfield thought, because there was no Harley left to reach out to. There was no point. Angry claws began to tear at his mind, threatening to leave scars in the shape of his crime.

But then, suddenly, a voice, clear as a chime, inaudible to Yen Sid but resounding inside Garfield and Peter's heads:

"Gee, I wish you guys were here. It ain't even fair. I know I told ya to go, but didja really have to forget all about me? And I can't even clock ya for it! Oh, well. Ya moved on. One of these days I'll figure out how to do that myself. But Gar, Peter…I really do miss ya both."

Peter and Garfield's eyes met, suddenly sparkling with awe.

"She made it out," Garfield said softly. "She's okay."

"See?" Peter told him. "You're no murderer. …Well, at the very least, you didn't kill HER."

"She is going to be so mad at us."

"She can't be THAT angry."

"Are we talking about the same Harley?"

They both remembered at once that there was a third person in the room; they both turned to address Yen Sid. "So, uh…thanks," Garfield told him.

"I am happy to have been of assistance," Yen Sid replied. "I trust you intend to betray her no more."

"Our traitor days have officially ended," Peter declared. "…Well, at the very least, being a traitor to HER, anyway…"

"Listen once more," Yen Sid encouraged them. "The charm will tell you where to find her."

The pair turned their attention once more to the glimmering charm, suddenly getting a strong impression: a name, a place, a direction to fly.

"Remnant," Garfield stated. "Isn't that – "

"The home of a certain you-know-who?" Peter replied. "Talk about coming full circle."

"Looks like we gotta catch a ride," Garfield stated, "if you know what I mean."

"The train shall return you to Radiant Garden," Yen Sid promised. "From there, the journey is yours to undertake."

"One we're definitely up for," Peter confirmed. "Thanks again!" He turned to head out of the study; Garfield followed eagerly. It wasn't without a cry of "Toodles!" that Peter closed the door behind them both.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter remarked, "Looks like we get to hijack that Gummi ship after all. It should be a bit of fun."

"Yeah," Garfield replied. "Good thing that guy didn't know who we were. He probably would've thrown us in a dungeon or turned us over to some ancient council or something."

As a matter of fact, as Yen Sid looked to the recently closed door, he mused to himself that there were in fact times that even those of the Darkness needed to be granted a little human decency. After all, they too could connect their hearts to those of others. Had the pair arrived under different circumstances, Yen Sid wouldn't have gone so far as to assist them. However, he knew their intentions were true, and thus was his conscience clear.

He would never breathe a word of this to Sora or his companions.

...

Mozenrath pulled up a chair to the grim, gothic desk that had once belonged to Master Cyclonis as a board for plotting strategy. At least Mozenrath's intent for it was similar. He cracked open a leather journal, clicking a pen above it. Now came the fun part.

Snapping his fingers, he summoned up a window of magic before him, a widescreen view of what the little blue beetle was observing in the house of the Brotherhood. Directing the beetle with his will, Mozenrath made the rounds of the first floor, noting the movements of the five. They seemed to be in the process of pulling together dinner, which for some reason required a lot of arguing, the haphazard dumping of cans into a pot over the stove, and the small one attaching himself to the wall at the right angle to dip his surprisingly long tongue into the pot and getting chastised for it (which wasn't as effective of a deterrent as the fact that doing so left a sizeable burn blister). The brunette and the sorceress kept trying to fawn over the white-haired one, who insisted repeatedly that he was fine, growing a little more frustrated with each inquiry.

And of course, the artifacts were lined up on the counters. The brunette one very nearly knocked the Dragon's Eye off its resting place, and Mozenrath's heart stopped for the fifteen seconds in which it nearly shattered. When it restarted, it was at an accelerated pace upon the realization that such delicate glass objects had been entrusted to a house containing a boy who could and would summon earthquakes at will.

The little beetle scuttled unseen throughout the kitchen and the dining room, picking up every last piece of conversation. At first it was menial: comments on the food and how barely-edible it was, peppered with more arguing. Over time and over the dinner, however, more details slipped out. Names were said, and Mozenrath was able to obtain first and last thanks to the boys proclaiming who they were out loud in jesting boasts. The girl's last name, he figured thanks to recalling that she was the sister of the white-haired one, though a more dissimilar pair of siblings he hadn't seen since comparing himself to Aladdin. He also used context clues to learn more about their world of origin, where "mutants" bearing special powers were oppressed by those without power. Mozenrath grimaced at the thought of a world where one such as himself would be ordered around and forced into hiding by the utterly ordinary. Had he grown up in their circumstances, he would have shaken the status quo dramatically, by hook or by crook.

He also figured out how they had arrived in Radiant Garden: by an accidental teleportation involving a mysterious device. The best part, however, was the revelation that they didn't seem to realize they had been brought to another world at all. They simply thought they were in another part of their own. Mozenrath nearly broke down laughing. They had no idea they had even reached another world, and yet their first act upon arriving was to purloin the most valuable magic that existed on that world. For that matter, they all seemed to be petty crooks rather than ambitious villains. The gods must have all been taking a synchronized nap in order to allow this to happen.

Notes were scrawled hastily in the journal. Mozenrath collected a reservoir of details, not knowing what would be useful and what wouldn't. Though he aimed for accuracy, he was tripped up by the spelling of one of their last names in particular; he wasn't sure he'd heard it spoken clearly, and therefore jotted down several variants just in case.

Yet he hadn't come across anything truly ripe for manipulation. No great revelation that offered a peek into the deepest weakness of any of them. Nothing that cut to the bone. It was all just surface knowledge.

Eventually, they tired, having apparently lived out an extra half day from where they'd come from and requiring sleep earlier than usual. Mozenrath bit his lip as the four boys made their way to the stairs, exchanging dresspheres. Soon they would be done for the day and he would not yet have anything to turn in to Snatcher that would be workable.

The girl, however, did not follow her companions up the stairs. That was interesting. The beetle crawled across the wall of the living room as she settled herself on the couch, staring out the spacious front window. Obviously the sign of some inner turmoil. If she piped up about what it was, Mozenrath just might have something.

Wanda's reverie did not go unnoticed in the immediate vicinity, either. Pietro, now clad in a tee and shorts intended for use in bed, quietly zipped into the door frame, taking a few moments to watch her watch the world. He was usually so quick to do everything, but in this moment, he found himself in need of time to formulate exactly what he wanted to say.

Which ended up being as simple as "What're you thinking about?"

She turned to look at him wordlessly at first.

"Look, I know this is weird," Pietro sighed. "We just completely uprooted. We're calling an entirely different place 'home' now."

"That should be what I'm worried about," Wanda informed him. "But it's not. It's…the usual."

Now Pietro understood. "You're thinking about your memories, aren't you?"

She couldn't face him anymore, instead turning to fixate on the arm of the couch.

"If I could give them back to you, I would," Pietro insisted. "But I can't. You're just going to have to trust me on what happened. Isn't that good enough, anyway? Your childhood was seriously messed up. If you had those memories, you'd be even angrier and more serious than you are now."

"But I am angry," Wanda told him. "And sad, and afraid. Even without remembering what happened, my mind reacts to life like I've BEEN through things. Sometimes, things frighten me and I don't know why. Certain sounds. And I have dreams about being alone in a prison cell. I know those dreams come from somewhere. They match too well with what you said happened. I'm already suffering because of those memories, and I don't even have them. It feels like I'm two different people stitched together, and the one who lived out my childhood is just a hollow shell that's stuck to the real me. I just want to be able to remember the truth. I have to live with it no matter what." She met Pietro's gaze once more. "But there isn't anything you can do about it. You told me the truth. And I'm grateful for that. Beyond that, it isn't your problem. Just mine."

Pietro could feel her own anguish festering deep within him. He considered telling her what he now believed: that Magneto leaving them both behind was a boon to them both. He knew, however, that would do more harm than help. Instead, he said all he could say: "That tanks."

"It does," Wanda confirmed.

They remained in silence for some time before Wanda said, "Go get some sleep. I'm sure Lance is wondering where you are."

"You're gonna sleep eventually, right?" Pietro asked.

"I am," Wanda confirmed.

"Your pajamas are on the table," Pietro reminded her. "And just so you remember, Toad picked them out, so if he got something stupid, you can just throw him out the window in the morning."

That cracked a smile from Wanda. "Thanks."

"I just said Toad picked them out, not me."

"No. I mean…thanks for listening to me."

"Yeah, well, I said I'd be a better brother. Which means it's my responsibility to tell you to get some sleep."

"I should tell you the same thing," Wanda replied.

It was understood, then, that the conversation was over. Pietro resolved not to stew on it; he'd been told he'd played his part, and he could be satisfied with that. There was no use in getting himself worked up over things he couldn't control. Dissatisfaction threatened to gnaw at him, and he quashed it for the sake of his mental state. Wanda knew how to take care of herself; he had to trust her.

As he headed back up the stairs, Wanda turned her sights once more to the street outside. The old-fashioned lamps had come on, illuminating the cobblestone and the charming facades of the houses across the way. The change of scenery was actually rather calming in that its novelty distracted parts of Wanda's mind from trying to retrieve scenes that no longer existed in its archive. It did raise the question that still had not been answered, however. Where were they? What, truly, was this place?

When it became clear Wanda would not budge from her spot for some time, and Pietro had no more to say to her, Mozenrath willed the beetle to follow Pietro upstairs. What he'd heard of Wanda's plight was a delicious development indeed, and now he thirsted for more. Though he knew it unlikely that he would overhear anything as poignant as what he'd just witnessed, he still felt driven to give it a try. Therefore, he pursued Pietro, hoping for something to hold the boy back from simply going to sleep.

Lance awaited him in the designated room, keeping to the half of the bed nearest the wall. He'd been watching the door, waiting for Pietro to return. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"As okay as it's gonna get," Pietro replied; Lance could read between the lines. "Now let's cut to the good part."

Lance gave the mattress a couple pats; he was rewarded with Pietro immediately zooming into place on the bed, his lips pressed to Lance's. Lance's hands found their way across Pietro's bony shoulders, pulling him ever closer. Pietro, by contrast, went for the waist.

This was absolutely not what Mozenrath had wanted to see, and he was ready to steer the beetle out of the room and find someplace to stash it for the night when –

"Okay, wait, no." Pietro had backed off from Lance's hungry embrace, giving him a steely glare. "I can't. Not when I'm this MAD at you."

Lance gave an exasperated sigh. "Is this about the team leader thing?"

Now this, Mozenrath thought, was actually interesting. He let the beetle linger on the wall.

"I'm in charge around here," Pietro insisted, "and, frankly, I deserve to be. I'm smart, I'm powerful, and I know how to make a plan. Lance, you're great. You're REALLY great. But you are not the boss around here, and the more you try to make it look like you are, the more it makes me look like an idiot. They're not gonna listen to me at all anymore! Just you!"

"Pietro," Lance groaned, "I'm not TRYING to steal your thunder or be the one in charge. I'm just trying to look out for everyone. We're in a weird new place, we don't know what's going on, and we're starting over from scratch. I just want everyone to be okay. That's why I do things like testing the house."

"Which you're about to tell me I should've thought of if I wanted to be taken seriously."

"No," Lance argued. "I'm not. Because you DID find the house in the first place, and we owe you for that. And according to my tests, you found a perfect one on the first try. You ARE leading us."

Was it really about leadership? Lance couldn't help but wonder. Pietro would never admit to being insecure on a deeper level. Perhaps it was simply about the need to feel like he had done something right, anything at all.

"And you got us all that cool stuff!" Lance went on. The more he could remind Pietro of his contributions, the more he could assuage whatever sense Pietro had that he wasn't able to assist in a meaningful way.

"Which brought some kind of super mutant to our door trying to get it," Pietro muttered, "and ended in me getting thrown around like a rag doll."

"Well, if he turns up again, you'll know to duck," Lance offered. "Listen, Pietro, the Brotherhood is all each other has right now. It's like you said. We're far away from EVERYTHING we knew, which is a good fresh start. But we need to stick together to make this work, okay? We all need each other. And that means…" He closed both of his hands over one of Pietro's. "I need you."

The look Pietro fired back to Lance was gobsmacked. Then he muttered, "Maybe you should be in charge."

"What?"

"You just made me feel so much better right now. Like magic or something. Now I actually want to follow your lead." He seemed miffed, but only slightly. Lance knew how he really felt deep down.

"Tell you what." Lance smiled enticingly. "You lead, and I'll be your counselor. I'm not saying you'll run into problems only I can fix, but if you do, I'm here."

"Just don't go overboard on playing hero again," Pietro told him.

"What?" Lance grimaced in confusion. "Where'd THAT come from?"

"I'm not saying no," Pietro clarified. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't actually like how much of a softie you are."

"I'm not a – "

"You need to run into a burning building and grab the old lady trapped inside or get a cat out of a tree, fine," Pietro told him. "It's what you do. But if you decide you're too good for us and leave us behind so you can go play hero with better friends…"

Lance shook his head. "Not gonna happen. I already know that kind of thing doesn't work for me. And I'm not just gonna abandon you now. Or, you know…ever." He flashed Pietro his most debonair beam. "You won my heart, idiot."

"Then I promise not to stab you in the back for any more higher syndicates run by terrible dads."

"It's a deal," Lance concluded. "Can we get back to the good stuff now?"

"I was just about to bring that up."

This time, when they came together, lips locked and arms tightly encircling each other, they did not part. Mozenrath knew he didn't wish to be present for whatever they had planned next and steered the beetle on a beeline out of the room.

That conversation had actually given Mozenrath a veritable gold mine of weak points in the psyches of the two boys. No doubt Snatcher would be able to put this to good use. Perhaps Lance and Pietro thought themselves inseparable now, but a well-placed word in the ear of either might turn the tables.

With that, Mozenrath aimed to hide the beetle well and awaken it the following morning. However, as it crawled along the wall of the upper floor, a certain auditory disturbance trickled through its feed into Mozenrath's ear. A room he hadn't yet surveyed was the source of the sound. A voice. Soon joined by another voice. Perhaps this pair, like Lance and Pietro, was just about to get annoyingly amorous, and Mozenrath was hearing their foreplay in action. He doubted it, however. There was tension in the first voice. Fear, almost. This warranted investigation.

Todd had been downright exhausted, and as soon as he and Fred settled into their customary sleeping position – Fred lying on his back and Todd nestled at his side, one wiry arm draped over Fred's chest as Fred's arm wrapped around Todd's waist – the amphibious one had dropped right into slumber. Fred found himself lying awake longer, waiting for sleep to overtake him.

Eventually, Todd started talking in his sleep. Fred was used to that. It was a nightly occurrence. Usually, Todd's babble involved such matters as bringing the sponge to the left shoe or not eating the candle before you'd kicked the stop sign. Fred would tune it out, as always, and find his way to sleep among the background noise.

Tonight, however, was different. When Todd started out with a muffled "Nnnnno," Fred didn't think anything of it. But when it turned into a "C'mon, guys…don' leave me…no…don'…don' leave, guys…", Fred was caught off guard.

Sensing the desperation in Todd's voice, Fred gave him a gentle shake. "Hey. Wake up."

Todd fell silent. Then a mild twitch from his body let Fred know he was awake. "Wha…Freddie…try'n'a sleep here…"

"You were talking in your sleep," Fred told him.

The response was a drowsy "Always do that."

"Yeah, but this was different. It was weird." (It was around this time that Mozenrath's bug entered the room to get a better vantage point for what was going on.) "You were saying not to leave you. You sounded pretty freaked out."

Todd's next "Oh" was said in a much clearer voice. Hearing Fred say what he did had alerted him to the fact that he should be fully conscious for this. "I…said that, huh?"

"Yeah," Fred confirmed.

"Ain't nothin'," Todd said nervously. "I just get bad dreams sometimes. Everyone does. Ain't no big deal, seriously. Thanks for wakin' me up an' all, but I'm fine."

He might've been able to get away with it if he hadn't explained it that insistently. Fred could admit he wasn't often the brightest. He missed many a detail in life that others would consider obvious. This time, however, Todd's apprehension did not escape him, and furthermore, his mind locked in an immediate connection: the only time he could remember when Todd had ever been "left behind." "This ain't about Asteroid M, is it?"

"Wh-what? N-n-no!" Now Todd was clearly on the defensive. "That was forever ago, man. Forgot all about it till you brought it up just now. Ain't like that was really me bein' left anyway, yo. It was just dream stuff, y'know? It's fine. Just go to sleep. Forget about it."

He fell silent, and Fred simply waited. After some time had passed, there came a sigh, followed by a resigned "…Yeah, it's about Asteroid M."

It had been Magneto's plan for paradise. An asteroid located off the planet the Brotherhood had once called home, where only the chosen elite of mutantkind would carry on while the planet was left to rot. A series of duels had been carried out on Earth, and the victors were selected by Magneto to join him on the asteroid. Lance, Pietro, and Fred had all prevailed in their battles. Todd had lost not once but twice, and had remained behind while the other three were chosen. Wanda hadn't even been in the picture back then.

"Look, it really ain't a big deal," Todd asserted. "We weren't close back then. It was every mutant out for themselves. I was just lookin' out for me. You guys was just lookin' out for you. I get it. An' it wasn't you guys who decided to leave me anyway. That was Mags. I just didn't make the cut 'cause I wasn't good enough. I don't blame any of ya. It just…shows up in my dreams sometimes. Can't really stop it."

"It wasn't because you weren't good enough," Fred said instinctively.

"C'mon, Freddie, we both know better than that. But it ain't a big deal. I just…when you guys got up there, you noticed I wasn't there with ya, right? Somebody brought it up, right? Y'know, 'Hey, wonder where Toad went.' You did, right?"

Fred's long silence gave Todd the answer he dreaded. "Yeah," Todd sighed. "Kinda thought that. Seriously, don' make a big deal out of it. It was before everythin'."

"Yeah, it was," Fred agreed. "We never made a big deal out of leavin' each other behind. Remember when I got taken after the Sentinel thing? It wasn't like you made a big deal out of it."

This time, it was Todd's silence that gave Fred the answer he didn't want. "…You did?"

"Look, I didn't want anybody to know," Todd said hurriedly. "When all the fightin' was goin' down, I was focused on savin' my own skin, but then when I figured out they got you, then I kinda…I kinda panicked. I didn't want anybody to see me freakin' out over ya, so I didn' say anythin'. An' then, well, Wanda showed up, an' I got…distracted. But by that time, I knew we were gonna getcha back, so it was less panicky. I knew we had to getcha back, though. You were my pal. Now don't go usin' this to feel all guilty about Asteroid M. It was different."

"I know, but…I still shouldn't have forgot about you," Fred protested. "Leavin' was bad enough, but I FORGOT you. I can't forget you!" He shifted his hand upward, gently stroking Todd's hair again and again – hair that was greasy and matted from lack of care, but Fred had never minded that one bit. "So I ain't never leavin' you again. Wherever I go, you come with me. Promise."

Todd knew Fred meant it, and suddenly he seemed filled to bursting with an emotion, a combination of relief and admiration. He was melting into Fred's grip, barely able to move under his own steam, not wanting to leave a place where he felt so safe anyway. "I ain't leavin' you neither," he vowed. "Stick a needle in my eye an' all that."

"You okay now?"
"Yeah, but I ain't tired anymore, so thanks a lot for that."

Fred knew he wasn't really mad.

"Whaddaya think of all this?" Todd asked. "The fresh start an' everythin'."

Fred hadn't wanted to admit his true feelings on the subject in front of Pietro, Lance, and Wanda, but here, alone with Todd, he could be honest. "It ain't as great as Pietro makes it sound."

"Oh yeah?"

"Back home, I had a rep!" Fred insisted. "Everyone knew if they laughed at me, I'd give 'em what for! Nobody knows that here, an' I'm gonna have to teach 'em all over again! Which means they're gonna laugh at me!"

"They ain't just gonna point at ya in the middle of the street an' do it."

"Yeah, they will," Fred argued. "They always do. Even if I didn't mess anythin' up! They see me and notice what I look like and think it's funny!"

It was something he hadn't seen fit to share in full before, how he knew he stood out in a world built for people much smaller than he. A world of narrow hallways, where you were constantly encouraged to eat less food lest you turn out the size Fred did. "I like what I am," he insisted, "but they're all gonna see me as some kinda joke, an' I'm gonna hafta show 'em all I'm NOT!"

A nervous lump formed in Todd's throat. "Hey, uh, Freddie…as long as we're bein' honest an' everythin'…I kinda got somethin' I gotta get off my chest."

"Yeah?"

"It's like this," Todd admitted, dreading his own words but feeling he would be remiss if Fred didn't know. "Back when we first met…remember?...an' you first joined the Brotherhood…there were times it was just me an' the guys, an' you weren't around, an' I kinda…I sorta…"

"You made fun of me for bein' the big guy."

Todd's blood ran cold. "You knew, huh."

"I figured," Fred replied, keeping his tone casual. "I got mad at all of you for talkin' about me behind my back, and I thought the minute one of you said it to my face, I was gonna let you have it. Then we all ended up bein' a team, and I didn't WANNA let any of you have it. 'Specially you. I knew you guys cut it out. It's okay now. I ain't mad."

A sigh of relief from Todd. They both remembered the day they had met each other; Fred had immediately expressed his distaste for being laughed at, and Todd had offhandedly remarked that people laughed at him, too. They both knew, though neither would say, that Todd's covert mockery of Fred had been a way to make up for his own insecurity, to no longer be the butt of the joke on the team. Which Todd was pretty sure he had ended up being all the same, but he was accustomed to that by now.

"Well, I'm through with it, yo," Todd asserted. "Ain't nothin' about you to make fun of anyway. I like ya. All of ya."

"You can keep making jokes about punching a hole in a train," Fred reassured him, almost going back to a light laugh himself at the memory of the terrible impression. "That one was actually funny." Whatever Todd had said to mock Fred in the past no longer mattered; Fred knew he could always count on Todd to make him smile. Fred tightened the grip of the arm around him, giving him a light squeeze of reassurance.

"Hey, for what it's worth," Todd offered, "they ain't gonna let me off easy either. People take one look at me an' they know I ain't normal. They're gonna laugh at me too, you'll see."

"They shouldn't! You're perf – "

Fred realized too late what he'd accidentally let slip. Now that it was partway out, he had no option but to follow through on it; he was no coward. "…fect."

It was times like this when Todd didn't even know what to do with himself. It wasn't the first occasion upon which Fred had made him feel for a fleeting moment like he was something more special than he knew himself to be. He wanted to give that back, but was left without a clue as to how. "Aw, c'mon, Freddie…you know I ain't never been good with words, yo. Just…" He maneuvered the hand that had lay across Fred upward, cupping the side of Fred's face with it and tilting it toward his own. "Same to you." This was punctuated by a kiss of middling length, rather gentle. No, words weren't Todd's strong suit, but using physical gestures allowed him to get the point across more clearly.

Once their lips parted, Fred instinctively shifted to plant a second kiss on Todd's forehead – a little habit he'd picked up due to their difference in height. "Get some sleep, man. We got a city to own tomorrow."

"Yeah, you're right."

They settled back to position, and repose overtook Fred first, sending him out of consciousness. Todd was left to fall asleep second, which, truth be told, was fine by him. Another little secret he held was the fact that when he found himself awake and Fred asleep, which happened every now and again, Fred's deep, even breathing was the surest thing to lull Todd back to slumber. He focused on the light sound of respiration, the rise and fall of Fred's body, until he was overtaken by better dreams than the memory of Asteroid M.

Mozenrath could barely write quickly enough. Finishing his sentence, he scurried the bug out of the master bedroom and buried it into the soil of a decorative potted plant in the hallway – one that, given the tendency for this group to roughhouse, would probably not remain whole and upright for long. He then scrawled a few more observations into the book, giving it all a read-through to make sure he'd been thorough. This was more than enough for a skilled manipulator to work with.

The view from the bug was dismissed. The leather cover of the book slammed shut. Mozenrath departed the room elegantly, cape trailing behind.

Archibald Snatcher was going to have a field day with this.