Hey! Canadian Thanksgiving, mashed potatoes, Avengers: Age of Ultron... what's not to like? I will admit it, this chapter was a pain in the butt to write, which was why it took so long. Hope you enjoy!
The next two weeks passed by in a haze of long days and even longer nights as the mutants trained at the mansion for what was to come. Most days consisted of expanding the reaches of their mutations, and many hours of taxing physical activity, which admittedly, Laurien didn't mind. It took her mind of the barrage of intruding thoughts accumulating inside her head. She had taken up running around the property every morning before her training sessions with Erik and Charles. With the encouragement of the cold morning air filling her lungs, she pushed her body further and further until she felt as if she might pass out right there on the pristinely cut lawn.
There was just something alluring in the way the brisk chill bit at her throat and the wind rushing through her caramel hair that sent her into a fit of utter conviction that seemed to drive Laurien to her edge of her abilities with a surge of exhilarating adrenaline. Though somehow, the excitement troubled her. In what way, she had no clue, but the feeling was only one of the aspects on a growing list that kept her up at night, staring numbly at the four walls of her room.
Her knuckles had long since healed, though as she glared up at the blank canvas that was her ceiling, she found herself absentmindedly stretching her arms into the air to flex her long delicate fingers, desperately craving to feel the sharp ache through her bones once more. Laurien hadn't managed more than a few hours sleep each night since they'd arrived at the mansion, though she kept it to herself, mostly in fear that Charles might send her back to New York City if he didn't think she was adjusting properly.
"Charles wouldn't do that." She reasoned silently, bathing in the soft glow of the moon through her window as she drew the covers up to her chin. "He's a kind man, maybe too kind for his own good, but he would never do such a thing."
"Everyone seems nice in the beginning." An ominous voice mentioned in the profound depths of her mind. "Remember Dan? How could you ever forget? He was almost the death of you."
With that, she threw the covers over her head, willing herself to just fall unconscious for the remaining hours before dawn, before she would ultimately give up all hope and grab her runners. It was almost a sort of therapy, running, though she was worried that there was a some dark psychological reasoning behind it. Late one evening in a sitting room chair, as she felt herself growing stupid from the two weeks' long lack of sleep, she had somehow diagnosed that she was quite literally running from her problems. She had chuckled weakly at the thought, as her eyelids became too heavy to keep open before she slumped forward, her chin resting against her chest.
She was vaguely aware of being lifted effortlessly, feeling weightlessly cozy as she snuggled unconsciously into the warm solid figure she was being carried by. She heard the deep rumblings of voices before she was deposited gently onto a colder soft surface, grimacing as the pleasant warmth slowly disappeared.
She wasn't sure how much time had passed after that, but awoke to what appeared to be the next evening, all tucked into her bed, utterly bewildered at how she'd gotten there, as the hazy memories of last night were gone from her memory. Feeling an unsettling sense of déjà vu as she kicked off the blankets, she dismissed the thought that she'd missed almost an entire twenty-four hours of her life and simply reveled in the happy fact that she'd actually slept without issue. Attempting to snap herself out of what felt comparable to a hangover, she padded over to where she'd left her runners after the last day's therapy session. It admittedly took her a few moments to fully register that they weren't beside the desk, or even in the room at all. Frowning, she sidled out of the room and down the hallway to where Raven's door was fully ajar and bleeding out the elegantly rising chorus of Edith Piaf's "Non, je ne regrette rien".
"Have you seen my runners?" She asked, poking her head through the door. "I seem to have misplaced them."
Raven glanced up from her magazine with a look that could only be described as flummoxed, making Laurien grin inwardly at the silly sounding word, before returning to the matter that had made Raven create that face.
"Do you think Marilyn Monroe is having an affair with Kennedy?"
Laurien was taken aback by the question, as this was the first she'd heard anything of the sort. "What makes you think that they're having an affair?"
Raven rolled her eyes playfully, as if the answer was so blatantly obvious. "It says so right here." He passed Laurien the magazine, the front page displaying what appeared to be Miss Monroe, in a rather risqué rhinestone dress, singing at the president's birthday party a few months back.
Laurien skimmed over the inside paragraph sparingly as it explained the detailed cahoots between the two celebrities before handing it back to Raven with a skeptical raised eyebrow.
"I don't know, Raven. Seems a little far fetched to me."
The blonde sighed dramatically, glancing down at the gorgeous star, before unexpectedly morphing into the woman. Laurien almost leapt back against the door in her surprise as her heart missed a beat at the sudden change, amazed at how it was almost like Marilyn had simply jumped off the page and into the room.
"Hey, sugar." She drawled sweetly, her eyelashes fluttering seductively.
"Oh my God! That's eerie." Laurien exclaimed, clutching her heart as she stepped closer, admiring the detail of the beige rhinestone dress that Raven managed to copy stitch for stitch.
She heard footsteps from the doorway as Sean passed by, glancing in on them casually before doing a double take and almost tripping as he rushed inside. "Thank God!" He cried out, as he fell to his knees. "My prayers have been answered!"
Raven swiftly changed back to her regular self with an amusing look of disgust on her face. "Go away, Sean. We are not turning this into another one of your weird fantasies."
Sean's arms fell to his side in disappointment, before pushing himself off the ground and pouting at them as he dragged his feet off towards his room.
Raven giggled, shaking her head as she threw the magazine to the side. "Sorry, what was it you were looking for?"
Suddenly reminded of her primary objective, Laurien jumped back to her question. "I can't find my runners, I was wondering if you might have seen them?"
Raven shook her head. "Nope, can't say that I have."
Laurien frowned, utterly stumped. She always kept them in her room, though she wondered if she might have misplaced them in her sleep deprived state. She thanked Raven before returning to her room, her brain feeling scattered worse than it was before her impromptu hibernation.
Darkness soon descended fully on the mansion as the subtle bids of goodnight were heard from the hall every half hour or so. Laurien was inevitably the last awake as she tried to tire herself out in other means than running by reading Brave New World for the hundredth time. The worn copy her mother had given her for her thirteenth birthday was ragged and frayed along the corners of the cover, the title on the front slowly disappearing with every brush of her soft fingertips. The pages showed the hardships it had endured; ink stains, yellowing pigmentation, and most worrying of all, the burnt edges, eaten away by the fire.
Laurien had managed to acquire quite the collection of novels over the years, such as Fahrenheit 451, Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, and 1984, to name a few. All read multiple times and very responsible for fuelling Laurien's love of English literature, ever since she'd received her first book in the language, which was the cherished one she now held in her hands.
In no time at all, the clock in the main atrium chimed twice to inform her that it was now two in the morning, and alas, she sighed, she wasn't the least bit tired. She was inexplicably irritated with herself for letting her runners slip through her fingers like that. Her forehead creased in pent up frustration; missing her run had made her restless. Her ankles and feet had unconsciously begun to flex and stretch against the maroon rug on the floor, as her fingers itched as she held her book in her lap, fingernails digging into the deteriorated cover, leaving shallow white claw marks to contrast against the deep blue.
She couldn't decide whether she was overly obsessing over the runners or was reasonably peeved. It honestly wasn't like her to misplace her belongings, not like her at all, and it gnawed at her, annoying her terribly. She tried to concentrate on the meanings of the words she was reading on the page, so she didn't accidentally skim over it again and again without taking it in, as she most frequently did when something was on her mind, but to no avail.
Sighing deeply, Laurien gently placed the book to the side, as even a small toss might be enough to tear it to pieces, and grabbed her pair of slippers before carefully stepping out of the bedroom. The mansion hallways were dimly lit at this time of night, though still enough to send elongated shadows across the carpeted floor as she braved the journey past where she usually frequented and into uncharted territory.
Finding a narrow staircase to the farthest east wing of the mansion, she followed the steep steps down to what she was surprised to find was a small room with tall shelves filled with a multitude of different types of books stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The room seemed to not have been visited for quite some time, as a thick layer of dust coated the discolored covers of the books and mahogany flooring, meaning that every time Laurien took a step forward, her foot left a faint slipper sized print in her wake.
She continued forward, careful to not disrupt the dust too much and cause an unwanted sneezing fit. Nearing one of the shelves, she wiped away the dust bunnies to find the title of Treasure Island written in magnificently golden letters. She grinned, her friend Bram had gone on and on about pirates and gold coins after reading the classic when they were younger. She reached up a tentative hand before cautiously pulling the book from its place, only to stumble backwards when a whole section of the shelf moved forward to reveal a wide passage way.
"Nice." She whispered quietly, grinning as she inspected the opening. Taking a cautious but exhilarating few steps forward, she suddenly hesitated as she was almost completely engulfed in the darkness. She outstretched her arm towards the staircase, mentally summoning the specific item she was looking for when she finally sensed its presence hurtling towards her. With a quick flex of her hand, she caught the flashlight as it came spiraling down into the room, making a satisfying smacking noise as it connected with her palm. She chuckled; having made good use of the trick her teachers had taught her a few days ago.
Flicking the switch, light danced off the walls as Laurien stepped further into the mysterious passageway, her feet scuffing against the old carpeted floor. She shined the light towards the end, curious to see how far the tunnel went, and was surprised to see a peculiar split in her path. With a precarious looking staircase leading upwards and the passageway continuing onwards beside it, Laurien decided that the staircase might be an adventure for another time. She walked for what seemed like forever before she found herself nearing to what appeared to be a dead end.
Frowning, she gave an experimental push on the wall, just out of pure curiosity and confusion, for who would go through all the trouble of making a secret passageway, if it went nowhere? To her utter delight, the wall gave way just as the shelf did, and revealed the pristinely polished kitchen they'd visited on the first day at the mansion, though as she stepped into the room, she found that she wasn't alone.
A confused looking metal bender sat perched on the counter, a book in one hand and a half eaten apple in the other. He didn't say a word, but a simple rise of an eyebrow gave her everything she needed to know.
"I'm guessing you didn't come here through this way, did you?" She managed, fighting back laughter at the amusingly bewildered look on his handsome face.
"No, but I certainly am tempted to leave through there on my way back to my room later." Erik replied, baffled as he discarded the book and the apple to come towards her and examine the tunnel up close.
"Quite magnificent, isn't it?" Laurien commented, grinning as she watched Erik enter the passageway. At his height, his head just tickled the roof, brushing away a few cobwebs as he went. "I wonder if Charles and Raven know about this?"
"If they don't, I would be very surprised." Erik called from deep inside the tunnel, his voice echoing softly against the walls. He soon reappeared, fascination deeply embedded in his steely blue eyes as he stepped down to the kitchen floor. "How did you come across it?"
"It was an accident really. Just went down a random staircase, found a shelf that opened with a pull of a book and wound up here."
Erik studied her thoughtfully for a moment before breaking the silence. "Are you hungry? I was thinking of making something a bit more substantial for myself, you'd be more than welcome to join me."
Now that Laurien thought of it, she was incredibly famished, considering she hadn't eaten all day because of her hibernation stint. At that very moment, an overwhelming ache blossomed from her abdomen, causing her to wince slightly as she nodded. "That would be lovely. Thank you."
Erik grinned back at her, his small smile sending a thrill of warmth through her chest as she watched him look around the kitchen, and for the first time since she'd met him, he looked bit lost. "I don't really have any idea of what to make."
She pondered her thoughts for a moment, only to be interrupted when another ache overtook her core, which made her think immediately of what she was craving. "Not to worry, I've got an idea."
It didn't take her long to find the ingredients in the gorgeously organized kitchen, and when she filed through the different pots and pans kept in a cupboard near the floor, she soon happened upon a somewhat peculiar looking cast iron pan with shallow rounded impressions in the bottom. Smiling, Laurien excitedly grabbed the pan and lifted herself from her crouch, only to be startled by the metal bender standing just next to her.
"Jesus!" She exclaimed, clasping the cool metal of the pan against her heart. "You need a fucking bell."
Erik chuckled, amused at her reaction. "Old habits die hard." He glanced curiously at the object in her hand, before it gently released itself of her grip and fell into his hands. "What's this?"
"That's a poffertjespan, it's used to make a sort of small fluffy pancake that they make back home." She summoned it back to her, gripping it tightly in her hand before turning to the stove. "You're going to love it."
"You sure you should be operating heavy machinery in your state?" He teased, making Laurien raise an eyebrow in surprise that he could provide such a playful remark, as he always seemed to be so serious and composed with the others.
"Firstly," She stated, spinning around to wave the pan in front of him. "Let's make this clear that this is hardly heavy machinery, and secondly, what state is that exactly?"
"I don't know. I just remember carrying you up to your room after I found you completely comatose from a severe lack of sleep and about to fall headfirst out of the armchair last night."
Laurien blushed reluctantly at the thought of him touching her, feeling the comfortable warmth of his skin against hers. Abruptly realizing just what exactly she was thinking of, she shook her head to rid herself of the incriminating thoughts, all the while feeling the hot prickling sensation creeping higher up her throat.
"Mmmhmm." She hummed in response, trying to make herself busy with the ingredients, but for that she had to approach Erik, as he had stationed himself right beside them as he studied her.
She moved cautiously closer, reaching for the flour with a tentative hand as she smoothly dismissed her recent problem. "Just haven't been sleeping all that well."
"Would you care to tell me why that is?"
Her heart almost skipped a beat in panic, fingers twitching as she felt her vision turning grey as anxiety sparked in her eyes. She added the flour and slowly stirred the thickening batter as her mind raced with the reminders of delicate memories and feverish nightmares, annoyed that their playful conversation had taken this unfortunate turn.
"Erik, I'm sorry, but I really don't want to talk about it."
"It's all right, but you're going to have to talk about it sometime." He reasoned, quickly snatching up an egg that had been rolling towards the edge of the counter. "It's not healthy to keep everything all bottled up."
"Yeah, I know." Laurien sighed calmly, knowing that he was irritatingly right as always. "I try, I really do, but sometimes it just doesn't give. But when I do sleep, I just end up seeing– or feeling things that I'd rather forget."
"Is it about what happened to your parents?"
Her eyes flashed accusingly towards him, the very mention of the word sending a hot, biting tremor down her forearms as they itched with remembrance. "How–"
He quickly silenced her worries with a raised hand, his eyes soft and reassuring. "It was just a guess. Charles mentioned something about it the first day we met you. I figured it had something to do with it."
Relief spread throughout her like blood from a wound, her breathing returning to its normal nervous pace. Alright, she was doing this. "They died in an explosion." She murmured steadily, realizing it was the first time she'd talked about it since it'd happened. "We'd just moved into a new house, my family and I, in the town of Rotterdam, the one the Nazis destroyed in the early forties."
"Yes, I remember the day they told us in the news, dreadful thing." He said, moving away from the counter to stand near her at the stove.
She nodded solemnly in agreement. "I wasn't born yet when it happened, but it had been fifteen years since the bombing, and they'd rebuilt rather quickly. Our house in Alkmaar was getting small with my siblings growing up, so we found a nice, affordable house, with a big backyard and everything we could have hoped for." She smiled as she remembered how excited she'd been, exploring the dreamlike rooms of the house with Roosje and Bastijn. Her bedroom had faced out to the backyard, giving her a perfect view of the old swing set her grandfather had built before her birth. She'd never gotten the chance to meet him, as he was killed by the Nazis after being caught helping the resistance. She was heartbroken when she outgrew it at the age of ten, feeling as though she'd lost her only link to him.
"We'd maybe only been there for a week, when one evening I had just finished tucking in Roosje and Bastijn in their beds and was making my way downstairs when it happened."
Her face fell as she sucked in a shallow breath and gripped the handle of the stove as a means of support. "According to the brandweerlieden, my parents were in the backyard digging holes to plant some of the trees they'd bought at the market down the street, when my father's shovel hit an unexploded bomb left buried from the Rotterdam Blitz. It tore through everything, the yard, half of the house and set fire to the rest of it. It took out the neighbor's house as well. Fortunately, they were on vacation or it would have likely killed them too."
She sighed, turning to face Erik. "You see, it's something I'd like to forget, but I just can't seem to. For how could I, with the reminders etched upon my skin? I'm reminded every single time the burns catch my attention."
"Can you show me?"
Laurien nodded, slowly rolling up the sleeves of her black shirt to reveal the gruesome patchwork quilt of ivory and pink skin underneath. Erik tentatively reached out and traced a small ripple in the damaged skin, his touch sending a flare of heat through her.
She hadn't mentioned the fact that when she'd regained consciousness from being knocked out by the blast, she'd screamed in pure agony as the flesh on her arms blistered and melted, for all the while, the flames had licked at her arms and ate away the very skin they'd tasted.
"The prospect of having the nightmares still scares me, it makes staying awake and feeling exhausted not so bad in comparison." She whispered, "I just don't want to relive it another time, you know?"
Erik nodded, his fingers gently rubbed soothing circles over the scars. Laurien unconsciously savored his touch, barely breathing at the sudden tension in the air between them. The fast beating of her heart echoed his as she found herself drawn closer to him. His grip then shifted to gently grasp her hands. In a spark of an unfamiliar sensation, a wave rolled from him and into her body, emitting a pleasant coolness that quickly ran up her arms and rested in her chest, making her gasp softly in surprise.
"I promise you, it can't hurt you anymore, Laurien." He whispered softly, the emotion on his tongue accentuating the syllables in her name so perfectly that it sent shivers up her spine. He then gestured to the scars on her forearms. "These are proof that something tried to break you, yet you fought bravely and overcame it. We're survivors, you and I."
She breathed in, frowning slightly as she wanted to ask what he meant, but when she looked up, her thoughts jumbled while her mind wandered elsewhere when she met the steely blue pigmentation of his eyes. For the briefest of moments, his gaze flickered to her mouth, as he leaned closer and she felt an unexpected swell of anticipation stabbing at her like a knife to the abdomen.
Their lips finally met. Soft and tentative at first, his right hand on the back of her neck, his left pressing firmly on her waist, as hers went up to his shoulders and held him against her.
It was short-lived, as Laurien then suddenly became aware of the scent of something burning and reluctantly pulled away from the kiss, her lips aching at the loss of contact. The forgotten batter in the poffertjespan was sizzling unhappily on the stovetop. Charred black as wisps of smoke rose from the substance, letting off an unpleasantly acrid smell.
Laurien sighed deeply, a small smile on her face. "I'm afraid we ruined our midnight snack."
Erik chuckled softly, bowing his forehead forwards to touch hers, as the smoking pan then moved of its own accord to the other element and out of harm's way. "I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow." He said, before he kissed her again.
Yup, the ending was why I had such a hard time. First time writing something like that, so please tell me if there is anything I need to improve on. I saw The Martian last week and I implore all of you to go see this amazingly brilliant classic in the making. I bought the book the moment I heard that Sebastian Stan was going to be in it, and was pleasantly surprised by how much I actually enjoyed the book entirely, not just Seb. Matt Damon is perfectly cast and the performances are incredible. Honestly, I cannot praise this movie enough, so go see it! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Also, please review!