I LOVE MARVEL!!!! (but I don’t not own them- that’s close enough to a disclaimer right?) The Caldron, part 1, was fantastic! And Alex was pretty hot to top it off (there must be good genes in the Summer’s family). . .but no one compares to Kurt.
I think this is the shortest amount of time there has ever been between my chapters. Probably because . . . well . . . 1) nothing really happens and 2) I actually had no homework. It’s pretty bad - be kind, don’t flame, I know. It’s just some more random Angeline plot development. Okay, if you haven’t figured out who Angeline is by now , I can’t help you . . . maybe you should be reading another fic . . . Anyway, onto the next chapter!
Chapter Six - No One Can See Me Cry (Don’t worry, it’s not sappy, I just couldn’t think of anything else to call it)
There was a pressure on his chest - push - push - push. His head was spinning and his whole body felt heavy and limp all at once. His mouth tasted gritty and there was something wet and sticky on his chest. The ground beneath him was cold and snow covered. He felt sick and turned over on his side, vomiting. The acidy taste mixed with the smoke and made him want to retch again, but footsteps caught his attention.
Lance opened his eyes slightly, in time to see a shadowy figure fleeing the scene. He tried to sit up, to call to the person who was responsible for saving his life, but nothing would come. His voice was gone; he couldn’t force his body up to a sitting position; the person had left. He closed his eyes and retched again, his body shaking. His hand traced over the sticky substance on his chest and he held it up to his face. The blackish liquid shimmered in the moonlight. Blood. Oh God, he was going to die. So much blood. But he couldn’t feel a gash. And other than the white hot burning in his lungs, he felt no pain. Could it have come from the shadowy figure? Were they hurt? Who was it?
He couldn’t think. He just wanted to lay there and sleep and shake and vomit forever. He wanted to go home. He pictured his bed at the institute. He would have given anything to be there right now. Sure he had to share his room with Pietro, but it was better than slowly shivering to death here.
Why did they have to come here tonight? It was supposed to be just another Friday night, only better. Mystique had to go to some principal clinic thing so they had the whole house to themselves. As much as he hated to really admit it, he liked hanging out with Todd and Pietro. They were okay guys, and he never really had that many friends at his last school. They had rented Ferris Bueler’s Day Off, ordered a pizza from Alfredo’s, and had just gotten through the opening credits when the phone rang. Lance didn’t even attempt to answer it. Usually, either Todd snagged it with his tongue or Pietro grabbed it before the first ring was through. This time it was Todd.
“Yeah, alright, we’re on it. . . . . yep . . . . gottcha . . . . nah, she’s out, but we can handle it . . . okay . . . bye.”
He turned to Lance and Pietro as he hung up the phone, “That was the bossman. He’s got a little assignment for us to take care of.”
They had come to the warehouse to find a file on some mutant, #725, for Magneto. And now Lance was here, lying on the cold ground unable to move except for the involuntary shudders that coursed through his body. Carrying through the stillness of the cool night, he heard to voices faintly.
“Where is he?”
“You don’t think he got caught in the warehouse, do you?”
It was Pietro and Todd. He wanted to yell to them.
“Guys . . . guys . . .” his voice came out barely above a whisper, “guys . . . please . . .I’m here.” When he was about eight he had visited his grandma once in the country over the summer. One day, a kitten had been trapped down an empty well. He had stood by the well for days trying to save the kitten, but he couldn’t. He remembered listening to it’s dying cries, it’s helpless mewing. His voice sounded like that now, “please . . .”
“Hey, did you hear something?”
“Yeah, it came from over there.”
The last thing Lance heard was Pietro take in a sharp gasp as he drew closer.
*~*~*~*
The sheets were thin and he was cold. The hum of a machine to his right was deafening. Sheets? Machine? There was some sort of mask on his face but Lance felt too weak to open his eyes. Where was he?
A faint voice crackled over an intercom, “Paging Dr. Sanyo, Dr. Sanyo please report to radiology.” He was in a hospital.
A more familiar voice to his right spoke out, “Paging Dr. Pepper, Dr. Pepper please report to the soda machine . . .” Pietro.
Todd laughed, “If my last name was Pepper, I would plan my life around becoming a doctor.” There was a pause and then a sipping sound, “Ugh, this coffee tastes like ass.”
“Ass? Okay, first of all, I don’t even want to know how you know that, second of all, you got it out of a vending machine that had to have been around since my grandma was born, and thirdly, you eat flies, man.”
“Shut up. So Mystique’s on her way here, huh?”
“Probably, who really knows with her.”
Another voice joined the group, “Can I get you fellows a chair?” It was perky - almost unbearably so, “I just have to do a few tests on your friend here, but then you can come back in the room. I’ll be about ten minutes. If you want to go, our cafeteria’s still open for another hour, it’s just down the hall and to the left.”
He heard Todd mumble his thanks and the two boys shuffle out of the room. The doctor picked up something at the end of the bed and began to read, “Lance Alvers - admitted at 10:17 p.m. -Semi-conscious, shortness of breath, uncontrolled vomiting and convulsions due to smoke inhalation. Boy, not a good night for you, huh kid?”
She was more talking to herself, she didn’t know he was awake. She shook his arm lightly and spoke to him gently, “Lance, can you wake up for me for a second?”
He opened his eyes ever so slightly, the white lights of the hospital room burned into his pupils. “Yes?” he answered. His voice was hoarse, it hurt to talk. He just wanted to sleep again.
“I need you to sit up for just a minute so I can check the progress of you breathing.”
His chest ached as he sat up, constricting with each breath he took. His hand gripped the sheets tightly from the pain, he felt like crying more than he ever had in his life.
“I’m just going to take off the oxygen mask and take a listen to your chest.” As she did so Lance felt like he was drowning, gasping for breath. The air was heavy and he couldn’t get enough of it into his lungs. The cold stethoscope on his back made him shiver but all he could think about was getting more air. He took in frantic gulps, his head was spinning . . .
The doctor replaced the mask and helped him back gently onto the pillow, “Sorry about that.” He laid his head back on the pillow and concentrated on slowing his breathing, “We are going to have to keep you at least over night.”
“S’okay.” he wheezed out.
“You’re friends are here and we’ve contacted your guardian. She’s on her way. I think it would be best if you just relaxed and tried to go to sleep again.”
That was the best idea he had heard all day. He nodded his head minutely in affirmation and heard her leave the room after playing with some buttons on the machine. He had almost drifted back to sleep when the door to his room opened again. He assumed it was Ms. Darkholme.
Seconds later a cold breeze drifted across the room as a window was opened. The room was engulfed with an eerie quiet.
A voice- cold, harsh, angry- broke the silence, “Did you send them?” He had never heard Mystique sound so mad before, and she had gotten pretty upset with them. “I asked you a question!” Fury was rising in her voice, “Did you send them to that warehouse? You know how well that place is protected. Were you trying to get them killed?”
“Hush, Mystique. The security has been reduced drastically since the day I sent you to retrieve those valuable files. There was only one guard. If it hadn’t been for an unforseen glitch, the plan would have gone off perfectly.” It was always weird to hear Magneto talk in person, his voice sounded hollow, emotionless.
“Bullshit, there’s always some unforseen glitch!”
“I cannot help it that another wanted the files.”
“Xavier?”
“No, someone more connected to what was in the files. It seems we have a new mutant on our hands - a crusader if you will.”
*~*~*~*
Lance grabbed his skis and duffle bag out of the back of his ‘89 Suburban. It was a miracle that thing ran everyday, especially in this weather. The grey clouds hung foreboding in the sky - threatening to open up on them at any moment with a shower of snow. He handed Todd and Pietro out their bags and gear and closed the back door with a mighty clunk, yawning.
It was 7:00 a.m., what else did anyone expect? Why did school trips always start at ungodly hours of the morning anyway? Not that he really minded, it was a whole week off of school - Friday morning to next Saturday night. And anything had to be better than last Friday. . .
A silver Miata convertible pulled into the parking lot, blaring REM’s “Imitation of Life”
“That sugarcane
This lemonade
This hurricane I’m not afraid
Come on come on no one can see me cry
This lightning storm
This tidal-wave
This avalanche I’m not afraid
Come on come on no one can see me cry”
It pulled into the space beside his and Angeline stepped out of the car, her chestnut hair shimmering in the morning sun. She smiled at them and gave a short wave before breaking loudly into the chorus, “That sugar cane that tasted good, that’s cinnamon, that’s Hollywood!” She laughed as she opened her trunk, “What a great morning to be alive!”
They mumbled their agreement as she heaved a large suitcase and snowboard out of the back.
“Well, zat waz enthusiastic.”
Lance laughed a bit in spite of himself. It was weird how well they had all gotten along with Angeline since she came last week, like she belonged with then. Weirder still, though, was the fact that she was just as close to Xavier’s team. It was almost like she didn’t notice the tension between the two groups, or perhaps she just chose to ignore it.
He slipped his arm around Angeline’s snowboard and she glanced at him with a strange look out of the corner of her eye before breaking into another broad smile. “Thanks Lance.” her voice was quiet, thoughtful, as she spoke to him. “I guess we’re the first people ‘ere, non?”
“By the looks of it,” replied Pietro, languidly. Of the three of them, Lance was usually the most lucid in the morning.
“Do you want something to eat? I don’t know about you but I ‘aven’t ‘ad breakfast and I’m famished.” She pulled an orange out of the front seat of the car and began to peel it slowly, all in one peel. She stuck her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in concentration as she peeled. He thought it was incredibly cute.
“Yeah sure,” replied Lance. Todd and Pietro just nodded.
She split the orange into four sections and handed it to them as the coach bus pulled into the far end of the parking lot. They sat on the hood of her car, watching the other cars filter into the parking lot for about ten minutes, talking about nothing really. In the distance the distinct rumble of Scott’s mustang filled the air. Their group peeled into the parking lot about thirty seconds later blasting out Offspring’s “Want You Bad”. Angeline sang along, it was clear she was definitely in a good mood.
“I want you
All tattooed
I want you bad
Completely
Mistreat me
Want you to be bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.”
They pulled into the spot beside Angeline’s and got out of the car, talking excitedly and laughing. Angeline smiled brightly at them.
“Angeline! Hey, what’s up?” asked Scott, locking the doors as their group piled out.
“ Good morning ‘andsome, ‘ow are you?” Handsome? Lance couldn’t help being slightly jealous.
“I am so psyched for this trip.” Kurt handed Scott a bag out of their truck and Scott shouldered it with a heavy grunt, “We’re just gonna throw our stuff in the bus. You coming?” By this time, Mr. Grantis had pulled into the parking lot and was beckoning them over to the bus.
“We will be there in a second.” she said glancing over at Lance. She walked beside him, humming under her breath.
Now was the time to ask her, “Hey, do you want to, uh, sit with me on the bus ride?”
“Sure,” she said happily, “I would love to” and went back to humming quietly to herself. Lance had the sudden urge to pump his fist in victory but managed to hold himself back for fear of looking like a total idiot.
Mr. Grantis did a quick head count, “Okay class, it looks like we’re all here. Are everyone’s bags loaded?” Their class nodded. “Alright, pay attention, I’m only going to announce the bus seating assignments once.” A collective groan rose up from the group. “Each pair will be given a number and you will sit in the seat marked with that number. Pair number one: Jack Sawls and Miranda Ferris, number two Duncan Matthews ” (Unfortunately, his wrists had healed almost completely by now and he was going on the trip) “and Jean Gray, number three Scott Summers and Kitty Pryde,” the teacher continued to name off pairs. He ended up sitting with Pietro, not bad considering Todd got stuck with one of the jocks - Mitch. Angeline’s partner was Evan. As he boarded the bus, Lance took some solace in the fact that at least she had wanted to sit with him.
Evan slid into the aisle seat next to Angeline, not quite believing his luck. Not only did he get to sit with Angeline, he was beside Kurt and Rogue, and Kitty and Scott were in front of them. If it wasn’t for the fact that he completely hated buses, he might have actually been happy . . .
To be continued . . . .
There, no cliffhanger! I am sooooooo excited for the next part of The Caldron! Thanks to Almost Angel for beta reading and the Dr. Pepper/ass conversation . . . don’t ask . . .you honestly do NOT want to know half the things that go on in my life. See you all at the next part! Chp 7