P: So what do we do now? After HeX-Factor, I'd say my sister's arrival is pretty well wrapped up, huh?
Kelly: I figure we should just pretend to go on living in blissful ignorance and continue on in an AU.
P: Rightio, works for me. We'll probably be flayed by readers though. As long as you're prepared for that I'm up for the challenge. BTW, doesn't this weekends hour event thing look killer. You better be home so we can watch it.
K: No worries. I will be. It looks to me as if you've joined Magneto in the commercial though. I'm not too pleased, Pietro, not pleased at all. *breaks out whip*
P: AGH! I'm sorry, I tried to get them to rewrite the script. It's not my fault. *screams in fear* Hey I know, how ‘bout you put away the whip and we'll write the next chapter of ITTLOATNLR?
K: Alright, just as long as you know you're getting a sound thrashing later. *cracks whip*
P: *Gulp*
I Turn The Light On and There's Nothing Left Redeeming
Kelly
li_luva_2000@yahoo.ca
`*~Chapter Seven~*'
Lance sat in second period Algebra, willing each second to go by. The clock was going painfully slow; there were still sixty-three minutes until lunch-time. He would go home and check on Pietro then, Todd was coming too. He felt slightly comforted that Rogue was with P. She was good for him. Just like Kitty was good for Lance . . .
He mentally cursed himself, he'd have to find time to apologize to Kitty today, too. He really hadn't meant to snap at her last night. He added the apology to his mental ‘to-do' list as item number thirty-seven, right after buying toilet-paper. He vowed not to tell her about that ranking of importance, he doubted she would be pleased, but they really did need TP. Most of the twelve-pack he had just bought had been used last weekend in ‘honor' of the detention Principal Kelly had awarded Todd and Fred. The look on his face was worth the $3.99.
Lance looked up as there was a knock on his classroom door. At it stood his twenty-something Ancient Civilizations teacher, Ms. Johansson, and Todd. Lance actually looked forward to going to Ancient Civ. everyday, Ms. J. was fairly cool for a teacher. He even had a 92 in the course. Today, however, he felt his stomach knot at her presence. She wouldn't look him in the eye. Todd was pale to the point of looking nauseous. Something was wrong.
Ms. J leaned in and whispered something in his Algebra teacher's ear. He looked up at Lance and nodded solemnly. "Mr. Alvers, collect your books. You've been excused for the day."
Lance was numb. He packed his binder and text-book in his backpack, stood, and walked toward the front of the classroom, an intense feeling of dread rising into his throat. Whispers flew around him, rumors were already brewing but he didn't really care, couldn't hear what they were saying. It didn't matter.
Out in the hall, Lance stared at the quiet Todd. "What happened?" Todd didn't answer. His gazed shifted to the floor, away from Lance, "What happened Todd?" He repeated his question. There was still no response. "TELL ME!" he screamed, shaking the smaller boy by the shoulders, pinning him to the lockers. "WHAT HAPPENED?" He couldn't control the anger that bubbled from deep within. Why wouldn't Todd speak to him?
Todd lifted his head, his eyes were closed. "Pietro tried to kill himself Lance. Rogue's with him at the hospital."
"No." His voice broke."No, he's okay. He's okay. He's okay Todd. He's okay, now. We fixed it. Rogue fixed it." Todd just didn't understand. Everything was okay now. Pietro would never do that. Why was Todd lying to him? And why was Lance crying? He slammed his fist hard into the lockers as the fury coursed through his veins, at least eight inches from Todd's head. He didn't want to hurt him. Lance was just so confused and angry and . . . There was a horrible pop as his wrist broke from the sheer force Lance had used. He screamed in agony and crumpled to the floor, cradling his wrist in his lap, tears streaming down his face.
*~*~*~*
Rogue sat in the cold white waiting room, staring at the muted TV. It was the weather channel. Oh joy. Somewhere down the hall, Pietro was having his stomach pumped. She groaned inwardly. ‘Stomach pumped.' It was like some horrible cliche out of a poorly acted after-school special. She had never dreamed it really happened, that it would be happening to one of her friends. Rogue wished that a doctor or nurse would come out and tell her what was going on. She'd been sitting here for almost an hour since they'd brought Pietro in. It was driving her crazy.
The hollow sound of footsteps resounded down the hallway. Several seconds later, Todd appeared in the waiting room doorway, leading Lance gently in, his hands on his shoulders. Lance's teeth were gritted, his eyes squinched tightly, he was in incredible pain. Rogue stared curiously at the white cast which now covered his left wrist, "My God, what hap . . .?"
Todd shot her a look which made her sentence die short. He spoke in a soothing tone, "We're here now Lance. I'm gonna sit you down now, okay buddy?" Lance nodded, though it was barely visible. His eyes closed tighter when his arm moved slightly as Todd sat him on one of the couches. Todd spoke again, "I'm just going to talk to Rogue in the hall for a second. Will you be okay Lance?"
"Yeah," he nodded to reaffirm his agreement, "I'll be fine." Rogue thought from the look on his face that was a debatable statement, but she decided not to question it. Todd would tell her in the hall.
"How's Pietro?" Todd stared beyond her, at the blank wall. Rogue had the feeling that if he met her eyes he would start to cry.
"They're pumping his stomach. They think he'll be okay, though. I don't really know for sure, it's been a while since they talked to me."
"How . . . how did he try? I mean, what did he do? They didn't give me any details."
"He overdosed on sleeping pills." Rogue said this quietly, watching the tears silently flood Todd's eyes. His biological mother had killed herself the same way.
"Oh," he said. That was all. The subject was now closed.
"So what did Lance do to his arm?"
"Punched a locker and broke his left wrist. He's pretty messed up right now, Rogue. I've never seen him get so violent. He thinks it's his fault. He wouldn't even take the pain-killers the doctor gave him, said he wants to be fully there when he sees Pietro."
"I'm worried Todd."
"Yeah, me too," he bit his lower lip, "about them both."
*~*~*~*
Lance dozed in the uncomfortable vinyl chair beside Pietro's bed. The indiglo button on his watch told him it was nearly 1 a.m. Fred and Tabitha slept on the cheap sofas in the intensive care waiting room, two doors down. They had come after school. Todd and Rogue had gone home to get Pietro some clean clothes, pyjamas, shampoo, and other stuff that he would need over the next couple of days. They would be back soon.
Lance couldn't sleep. His wrist throbbed, hung in a sling across his chest. It made his head heavy and his neck stiff, but Lance didn't really care, he wanted to stay awake anyway. He needed to apologize to Pietro.
His friend lay rigidly under the cold hospital lights, as pale as the sheets pulled up just under his arms. A breathing mask covered his nose and mouth, the steady drip of an IV sunk into his veins. The silence and starkness of the scene was deafening to Lance. He needed Pietro to wake, to tell him that he was okay and that he would never do something like this again. He needed Pietro to forgive him for not being there.
As if on cue, Pietro stirred with a moan, turning his head toward Lance and opening his eyes slowly. He sighed, it was barely audible over the hum of the machines, but Lance still heard it. He didn't know what to say, "You look like shit, P."
Pietro returned a weak smile, "I was about to say the same about you."
"Really?" Lance quipped, gingerly touching his bruised jaw with the back of his right hand, "I thought the wrist kind of went with the whole beaten and abused look started on me by Summers."
Pietro laughed, "Yeah, well . . . this is why you should never try to start a trend without me." He fell silent for a moment. "I'm sorry for all this, Lance."
"Don't be sorry Pietro. You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one that should be sorry."
"No. Fuck, this is my mess. I shouldn't have tried to leave you guys to clean it up."
"If you're talking about running away again, so help me God, I will strap you down to your bed with my one good arm."
Pietro laughed again, almost wistfully this time, "Yeah? I'd love to see you try Rocky."
"You implying I couldn't take you Speedy? ‘Cause I know you know better than that."
"And what if I was?"
"Then I'd have to beat your sorry little ass down to teach you a lesson." Lance smiled faintly at him. His face fell with a sigh. They couldn't simply cover this up by joking and they both knew it. "Why, Pietro? What was so bad about life?"
"You know Magneto?"
"Yeah, what about him?"
"A guy that age has probably had a couple of kids in his lifetime, eh?"
"I guess so, but what does he have to do with anything, P?"
"And those kids are probably mutants too, huh?"
"Sure, probably."
"So I guess it's also pretty probable that one of those kids has a twin sister who he hasn't seen for years, who's memories haunt him in his nightmares. I guess it's also pretty probable that one of those kids works for him, and trusted him, and was absolutely crushed when his father abandoned him after his stupid little asteroid blew up. That's pretty probable too, huh?" Pietro's voice cracked with emotion.
"Pietro, I . . . I had no idea."
"Of course you didn't."
"I'm so sorry."
"Good for you."
Lance was stung by Pietro's words, he was only trying to help. This had to be a thousand times harder on Pietro, though. Lance couldn't even begin to understand what that was like, to lose a sister, to be treated as nothing more than an employee by your real father. "I should have known, Pietro."
"Why?" he spat bitterly, "Because I look like him?"
"No," Lance replied quietly, "I should have known because you're my friend and I should have made it my business to know before it did this to you. I should have known because you needed someone to know, to be there for you. But I failed you, and I'm sorry."
Pietro's glare softened. He closed his eyes and eased himself back onto the pillow, "It's alright, you're here for me now. Thank you."
"No problem."
"I'm sorry if it was you who found me today."
"Nah, it was Rogue actually."
"Oh fuck. Really?"
"Yup, I asked her to go check on you and she did. I think you've got yourself a new girl with a crush on you."
"Nope, not Rogue. Not for a guy like me, I don't deserve it. She was probably just being nice or something."
"Sure Pietro, and Todd really smells like a bed of roses."
"I'm serious. Besides, she's not particularly my type. I wouldn't like her anyway."
"Right. That's why you just blushed beet red when I said she might like you."
"It's hot in here. I can't help it."
"Of course Pietro. It's all the thermostat's fault."
"Shut up, Lance."
*~*~*~*
Rogue pulled some sweaters and jeans from Pietro's closet. Todd was packing his bathroom stuff and unmentionables and she was in charge of the rest of his wardrobe. Her eyes rested on a picture of Wanda which sat on Pietro's bedside table. Pity flooded her heart, poor P.
There was a knock at the door. Both Todd and Rogue clattered down the stairs. If it was Scott again Rogue swore she would kill him. Instead, a young girl stood at the door, shivering from the cold night air. Rogue knew her hair, her face, her eyes. It was Wanda. "Is Pietro here?"
*~*~*~*
P: Believe it or not, P isn't at home. Please leave a message at the beep. I must be out or I'd pick up the phone. Where could I be? Believe it or not I'm not home . . .
K: You have been watching /way/ too much Seinfeld.
P: Shh . . . there is no such thing as too much . . .
K: Right . . . um . . . I'll be sitting over here now. *Tells herself: Just smile and nod. Smile and nod and be afraid.* Hey, wait a minute . . . wasn't I going to do something to you before?
P: Please don't let her remember.
K: Don't let me remember what?
P: I'm not really sure, but I'm absolutely positive it didn't involve your whip.
K: *grins manically* It's coming back to me now.
P: Help.