The AN saga continues . . .
~Once upon an indefinite progression of chronological events in a land geographically distant from here, a certain writer and her muse sat reading the reviews of her latest chapter.~
P: See, I told you I sounded stupid, why was I so trusting toward Magneto?
Kelly: Well . . . um . . .you see . . . *tries desperately to hide plot holes* Have I told you lately you're adorable? *glomps him*
P: Ugh . . . right.
~The plot line was progressing smoothly until they came to a certain review by Magic Shadow Dragon.~
K: Scott and Jean, eh? That gives me an idea . . .
P: An idea. God help us! *Kelly begins to type madly* What are you doing, you promised people Wanda. As your muse they're going to blame me for this plot deterrent. *angry readers advance on P* It was the reviews I tells ya, the reviews!
~All of a sudden, P awoke, still chained to the wall of Kelly's basement. ~
P: It was just a dream.
K: *comes down the stairs* Hey P, I was thinking about Magic Shadow Dragon's review and . . .
P: AAAAGGGHHHH!!!
The moral of today's AN: Only you can prevent plot development.
(Serious thanks to Magic Shadow Dragon for the inspiration! ^_^. Everybody else: see, by simply reviewing you could become a catalyst for my insane ideas. Oh, and I don't own Cup-of-Soup, Lipton does. ^_^)
I Turn The Light On and There's Nothing Left Redeeming
Kelly
li_luva_2000@yahoo.ca
`*~Chapter Six~*'
Rogue was awake. She was propped up against the couch, her head laying near Pietro's feet. She still wore her day clothes and could see everything that was happening from where she sat.
"Look Alvers," drawled Scott testily, "You better tell me what you did with her." He took a step to move through the door.
Lance spread his muscular arms menacingly across the frame. "I don't remember inviting you into my house Summers. I knew you were a dick but I thought that professor of yours would've at least taught you some manners."
"Fuck you Alvers. I'm going to ask you again," he clenched his teeth, "What did you do to Rogue?"
"We didn't do anything to her. She came here. She helped us when your precious little red haired bitch did nothing, and as far as I'm concerned, Rogue's welcome to stay here as long as she wants."
"Well, we want her back!" exclaimed Scott hotly, still standing on the front porch.
"You want her back? What is she to you?" mocked Lance calmly, "you sound like a fucking 4 year old having a temper tantrum ‘cause someone stole his favorite toy."
Rogue gasped as Scott slugged Lance in the jaw with a sickening crack. Lance doubled over with a groan, his head in his hands, swearing loudly. It was a cheap shot.
Rogue rushed from the den. Scott grabbed her roughly by the upper arm. His look was harsh, totally ignoring Lance writhing in pain, totally ignoring the fact that she'd been missing for half the night. He didn't even look happy to see her. Lance was right, she was just a possession to him. Scott snickered cruelly as he pulled her out the door, "Later Alvers."
*~*~*~*
Rogue spun the lock irritably and yawned. She was tired and angry, not necessarily in that order. She was especially irked at Scott who had left her with this helpful piece of advice, "They're our enemies Rogue, be careful."
Like he cared about her! She slammed her locker shut.
"No need to get violent, yo." Todd smiled weakly at her, "Thanks for last night. . . you know?" He gave her a quick hug which she didn't protest. The unbridled contact felt nice, everyone at the mansion always treated her like she could hurt them even through her clothes.
He pulled away and she looked down at the floor, "No problem Todd. So, how is he?"
He cleared his throat, a nervous habit, she knew. She'd forgotten how well she'd actually gotten to know them before she left. "Okay, I guess. He's still pretty shaken up. He stayed home again today, poor guy." He paused, "Hey Rogue?"
"Yeah?"
"Lance wants to talk to you. He's waiting by the vending machines." Todd started to walk away but turned back suddenly, "And thanks again."
*~*~*~*
"So Todd found you, eh?" he asked quietly.
"Yep." Lance watched as she brushed a strand of white hair from her cheek. She sat down beside him, her eyes never leaving his grotesquely swollen, bruised jaw. It hurt like a bitch. She laughed uncomfortably.
He sighed, "Why'd he run, Rogue, why couldn't he just talk to us? I can't . . . he just . . . I mean . . . hell, I don't know what I mean." He gazed down into his lap and collected his thoughts, "Why couldn't we help him? We tried Rogue, we sat up with him and talked to him and . . . nothing. NOTHING!" He slammed his fist into the wall and didn't flinch, "Why'd you have to leave? He's got no one now . . ." he laughed bitterly, "unless you count Kleptomaniac Barbie."
"I'm sorry."
"Shit Rogue, don't be sorry. You were the only one who could find him last night. It's just, why couldn't it be us, you know? I'm such a dick. It's been killing him. It's been killing him and I didn't even see." His voice was dead. "I didn't even bother to think about him after you left. Before . . . I mean . . . I had Todd and you had Pietro and it worked. We were okay. Then you left and I still had Todd but P got jacked. I should've been there for him. That poor kid's been dealt shit cards his whole life and I didn't even realize what it was doing to him until it was too late. I should've been there."
"It's not your fault Lance."
"Of course it's my fault! I should've seen it. I didn't even realize until he had those dreams. You should have heard him Rogue - screaming and crying and shaking and I couldn't even help him, I couldn't do a damn thing. I took him to a doctor, he got pills to help him sleep, to escape his dreams. They didn't help, I couldn't help. Why couldn't he just talk to us?"
"He's back now Lance." She tried to soothe him.
"For how long? What's there to keep him from running again?" His eyes clouded, "I've lost enough people for one lifetime Rogue, I can't keep doing it. If P leaves, I won't be far behind. Bayville's my last shot at something normal. Ironic, eh?" He stared hard at the discolored splotch on the tile floor, "He's asking for you. Kid's got one hell of a fever and he's sleeping like the dead, but he woke up long enough to ask where you were." Lance shook his head. "I shouldn't have left him alone this morning. One more skip, though, and Principal Kelly'll find out we're. . ." He finished the thought by cursing under his breath.
"Living sans guardian?"
"Unfortunately," he sighed again. "I hate to ask you this but . . . could you check on him?"
"Sure, no problem," she answered, seeing the desperate look on his face, "Don't worry about it."
*~*~*~*
Rogue fished around in the empty terra cotta flowerpot by the door for the spare key. As her gloved finger brushed up against something cold and metallic, she couldn't help but laugh. Some things never changed. She had come up with that hiding spot when she'd first moved in. Rogue slipped quietly into the house, a Lipton Cup-Of-Soup in one hand and her backpack in the other. She was glad she had decided to skip. Not only would it piss Scott "I've-got-a-stick-the-size-of-Alaska-up-my-ass" Summers off royally, it would also be kind of fun playing Florence Nightingale with Pietro. There were a lot of things she still wanted to talk to him about. It also didn't hurt that she found herself unavoidably attracted to the silver-haired boy after last night. She wanted to help him, to be there for him. There was something in his vulnerability that drew her to him.
She padded silently up the stairs to Pietro's room. The bed was empty, untouched; no one had slept in it recently. He must have stayed on the couch. After finding the living room empty except for some rumpled blankets as well, Rogue did a quick search of the house.
She found him in the kitchen, his head down on the table in his arms, with a kettle of what she assumed used to be water boiled completely dry on the range. A green coffee cup and tea bag sat unused on the counter. His face was flushed and sweaty. She placed a gentle hand on his forehead, which she could tell was hot even through her gloves. Not wanting to wake him, she refilled the kettle as quietly as she could and went upstairs to retrieve the Tylenol and thermometer.
The medicine cabinet was painfully bare, save these two items and a bright orange prescription bottle. She picked it up with interest, the two pills rattling loudly in the silence of the house - they were the sleeping aids Lance had mentioned. She read aloud, "Maximoff, P. Take two as needed. Do not exceed two per day. Contents: 46 pills. Repeats: 0." She felt her breath catch in her throat as she came to the prescription date, it was less than a week ago. Something wasn't right. There should be more in the bottle. Rogue raced down the stair to the kitchen, she couldn't think. Her heart pounded in her temples.
She shook the slumped figure, "Pietro? Come on P, wake up for me." Nothing. She put her cheek to his mouth but felt no breath. Why her? Anyone else could try CPR but she would only make things worse. Her movements became more urgent, checking frantically for a pulse or a rise of his chest or something, anything, any sign of life. "Pietro?" Clumsy fingers dialed the phone.
"Hello, 911 emergency. Would you like ambulance, fire or police?"
"Ambulance. You've got to hurry."
*~*~*~*
P: Oh, so now you're leaving cliffhangers? The readers'll gut you alive!
K: Hey, you're the muse. You tell me what to write. If anyone's getting gutted it's you.
P: But . . . I . . . *curls up into shaking fetal ball*
K: Oh, don't fret P, its been almost two weeks since I updated last. We probably don't have any readers left ^_^
P: So true. Can I have your last chocolate Easter bunny?
K: ‘Kay!