~ Insight ~
By SylvrGypsy

***Morning - Avengers Mansion***

"Well, why not?" Crystal tapped her foot on the tile floor with her arms crossed in front of her, appearing to all the world, or at least to all the people present, as a very spoiled princess. Which was hardly far from the truth.

Crystalia Amaquelin- Maximoff is an Inhuman Princess by birth, and thoroughly spoiled as such. She has the power to control the elements, and in her own Kingdom she has the power to control her subjects, as any member of the Inhuman's Royal Family does.

But, as Wanda Maximoff was quite fond of pointing out, Crystal is not in her Kingdom, and Wanda is far from being her subject. "Because, it isn't what Pietro, my brother, needs right now." Wanda jerked her head positively at that last sentence, proud to have come up with it so quickly.

"Well, I, as Pietro's wife, beg to differ." Crystal also jerked her head, mocking Wanda.

Wanda opted to take out her frustration on the defenseless toasted bagel with cream cheese lying on her plate. Furiously, she bit into it, imagining it was Crystal's shin. From across the large breakfast table, taking her seat with a fresh cup of tea in hand, Crystal wondered why her sister in law appeared to be enjoying that bagel so much.

Through a mouthful of half-chewed dough and cheese, Wanda continued to press her point. "Beshides, he wouldn't want tho bo." She swallowed and shook her devastated bagel at the other woman, saying, "I know my brother, and I know I'm right."

"Well, I know my husband, and I know you're not." At this point Crystal wasn't even looking at Wanda.

Janet Van Dyne, also seated at the table, was trying not to eavesdrop on her two friends, her fellow Avengers. That is to say, she was trying, but the topic was just a little too tempting. Simon Williams, sitting left to Wanda, slid his hand over her thigh and patted it lightly. It certainly got her attention, although the expression on her face wasn't quite what he had meant to instigate. "I'm sure Crys means well, Wanda. She's only trying to help." His voice started out confidently but ended a little sheepish. He smiled hopefully, and when that didn't shake her icy glare, he removed his hand. Wanda mounted another attack on her shin-bagel.

"Forgive me for intruding, as it may not be considered my business, but I could not help but overhear the conversation." The Vision had been quietly reading the morning newspaper, which he now set aside in order to see his companions. "Would it not be most logical to directly ask Pietro for his own opinion on the matter?" He looked questioningly at Crystal, then at Wanda.

Simon smiled. "Of course it would be, bro'. But this is kind of a "female thing" we have going on here. Logic isn't really involved." Simon laughed at his own fun, and nearly choked when he was shot a deadly glare from every woman in the room, not to mention an elbow in the ribs from Wanda. He shrugged, looking completely innocent. "Oh c'mon, ladies... I was only kidding. You guys know I was just kidding..."

"Well, this is serious, Simon. On second thought, no, it isn't serious; it's stupid." Wanda didn't look at Crystal, convinced that she had heard. Simon decided he wouldn't talk anymore today.

A moment later, Pietro came back into the room, limping slightly, and walking - amazingly - quite slow. Everyone, except for the Vision, threw him a peppy 'welcome back' smile. He had left ten minutes ago without a word; Crystal and Wanda assumed he was just headed for the restroom, and had both learnt better by now than to ask him if he needed any help. Pietro sat back down in the same seat Crystal had steered him into earlier, on her left side, directly across from Wanda. He wore a more dramatic version today of the same frown he seemed to be born with. He gazed at his plate, still piled with food, and the frown deepened. He looked away, cocking his body slightly away from the table and it's occupants, and admired a microscopic piece of dust on the floor.

Wanda thought he looked terribly sad, and she worried for him, because that's the same conclusion she came to every time she studied his face, for as long as she could remember. Simon thought he looked bored, but then, that's the only way Simon was used to him looking. The Vision knew better than to stare.

Crystal saw a terrific opportunity in front of her, and didn't waste any time to let it slip away. Usually, she was the 'bad guy' on occasions like this. When Pietro didn't eat or communicate on his own, she would be the one to be persistent about it. It was for his own good, she was sure. But if she didn't mention it this time, she would be the good guy, and hence, have an advantage.

Crystal cleared her throat and leaned in closer to Pietro, resting some of her weight on his chairs' armrest, which he wasn't using. Cheerily, she said- "Pietro, I was just telling your sister about this great idea I had..." She paused, waiting for him to ask for the rest. Pietro didn't encourage her to go on, because he wasn't listening in the first place. He did spare the attention to wish she wasn't so close, though.

Crystal kept pace. "So... my idea was that we should go back to Attilan soon, like maybe this weekend." She smiled broadly to no effect; the back of his head still didn't have eyes, she noticed, and regardless he appeared to be studying the floor, only in another dimension. She realized that she wasn't getting through to him. "Pietro," she said, sweetly, "are you listening to me?" He didn't answer, didn't even blink. "Sweetheart?" She reached over and touched his arm. He flinched. She bit her lower lip in an attempt to force the smile to remain. It didn't. "Pietro, it's just me..." She said softly, trying to hide her concern, tracing her fingers lightly over his biceps as she spoke. The muscle tensed until it felt like steel under her fingertips.

Crystal carefully ignored Janet and Wanda, who were both watching without making it look like they were watching. Growing intimidated, and determined to get Pietro's attention without the use of a frying pan, she reached across with her other hand and cupped his jowl, meaning to turn his face towards her own. He flinched again. Wanda kicked her from under the table and silently mouthed the words 'stop it'. Reluctantly, Crystal returned to her own seat.

When she did, Pietro shifted a little, so he was facing more front. Crystal accepted that as an invitation to continue. "I just thought that we could use some fresh, clean mountain air, honey. And some time alone together." She looked at Wanda and smiled sarcastically.

Pietro glared at the glass in front of him. He hated concentrated orange juice. And he hated the thought of Crystal taking care of him in Attilan. Every day she would have to change his bandages for him and thoroughly clean his still-healing wounds, then frequently take his wrist braces off and help him move his hands to keep circulation going. It was plenty bad enough that Hank had to do all that now, but he's a doctor, which made it less degrading in Pietro's opinion. And of course there are plenty of doctors in Attilan, even special doctors who only tend to the Royal Family's needs... but Pietro has no needs, he isn't royalty, and they're not his family.

"No." He said flatly. He didn't offer an explanation, as Crystal didn't need one as far as he was concerned. He went for his juice, forced to lift it with both hands, partially because the protective braces on his wrists were quite stiff, and partially because his hands don't have enough holding strength separately. It was the only thing he'd consumed in the last twelve hours. Disgustingly sweet, as he knew it would be, but he'd take sugar any way he could get it; the calories his body will derive from the juice alone is more than a regular human would get out of a full meal. *Thank you, metabolism.* He thought as he set the empty glass down, almost shuddering from the syrupy texture of the last two swallows.

Wanda smiled back at Crystal and pulled Simon's hand into her lap, stroking it gently. "Well," she said with a hint of triumph, "that settles that." Simon gawked. Crystal sneered.

Pietro unexpectedly rose from his seat, and Crystal subsequently jumped out of hers. "Where are you going?" Her voice was sharper than she meant it to be. "Back to bed." Pietro said, sounding tired. Crystal winced; he'd only been awake for three hours. She softened her tone and went on. "But, honey, aren't you going to finish your breakfast?" Pietro maneuvered around her and their pulled out chairs, not making eye contact as he did so. "No." He answered.

She followed him out of the dinning area and into the hall, where he abruptly stopped dead in his tracks and turned around, causing her to unceremoniously plow straight into him. "Ulmph!" Crystal stumbled as the impact jerked her momentum into reverse, and she would have fallen to the floor if not for Pietro's intervention. In the split-second when she hit him, he knew he couldn't catch her with his hands, so he caught her the only way he could: by wrapping his arms firmly around her waist and pulling her towards him. Underestimating his own strength sent him staggering backwards, with Crystal tightly in tow. Somehow, their commotion ended with Pietro's back slapped firmly against the wall, his arms still clinging to Crystal's waist, her hands since having grasped his shoulders for stability.

Their eyes met and locked, each searching in vain for some trace of control in the other, but there was none to be had. It was the first time Crystal felt that he was really looking at her, really seeing her, since she arrived. Her hands traveled, seemingly of their own accord, up the length of his neck and into his silver hair; it was so light through her fingers and soft on her skin, forcing her to remember what it feels like against her face, her neck... Pietro maneuvered his face into her left hand, without ever consciously deciding to do so, and strongly kissed her palm. A soft gasp escaped Crystal's lips, and unknowingly her right hand tightened its grip on his hair. In the very next instant they were kissing. Crystal found herself surprised that it was she who advanced him, and even more surprised to find that he was actually returning her kiss! She almost couldn't believe it. Pure ice tickled her spine as his tongue delicately traced hers, making her desperate to feel more. For that moment, it was as if nothing had changed. His taste, his smell, his warmth, it was all there, just like before... there was no argument, there were no injuries, no pain... then he was gone.

Crystal was baffled to find herself suddenly looking at the wall. "Pietro?" He was already several feet down the hall when she turned. "Pietro, stop!" He didn't stop. She sprinted to close the distance between them. "Darling, wait, please." He stopped, but didn't turn.

"'Darling'...?" He softly repeated her word, probably not intending for her to hear at all. His mind was racing; his body was racing, but not in the way he's grown so accustomed to. He tried desperately to think, but literally nothing happened. Crystal, his beautiful wife... The last time he saw her, they fought. He tried to make it right, he always tried to make it right... He kissed her that night; it was a passionate kiss, an honest one, exposing his every need and all of his love for her. He doesn't just casually express himself in that way, not to anyone, but he was trying to make her understand, trying to make her believe... She told him to stop, and she asked him to leave. He wasn't her 'darling' then, as she watched him leave Attilan on foot, in the pouring rain, and with a thoroughly broken heart. His memories were so painful; he couldn't even be at ease in his own mind. His body was painful; he couldn't be comfortable in his own skin. Pietro Maximoff, Quicksilver, Son of Magneto, the Fastest Man Alive, could not outrun his pain, and it was consuming him.

Crystal's mind was racing; her body was racing, in a way as she hasn't felt for... too long. She's concerned for her husband to no end. Since she arrived over a week ago, he's been more distant than ever; not exhibiting the same passion, the same fire she knows resides within his restless Gypsy heart. He's been living in his own world, so deeply so that it's spread concern through the ranks of the Avengers. Crystal thought that as he healed, he would come out of his daze, but he hasn't. He frequently stares at nothing for minutes on end, doesn't readily answer to his name, hardly speaks at all... it's as if he's not completely there. He seems so sad, so disturbed. Crystal fears it's her fault. She fears it's her mistake. And she fears it is too late... But that kiss... it showed her, it proved to her, that he's not lost: he's hiding.

"Pietro, my love... please don't run from me. Don't hide from me. I know that you're... not having an easy time right now, but you don't have to go through it alone. I just want to be with you, I want to help you. I don't care if you're... quiet, or... or whatever. Just let me be here for you."

Pietro still didn't turn to face her, and she stayed behind him, being mindful of his boundaries. Her tone was completely honest, Pietro realized, she was being absolutely sincere; which only annoyed him more.

"Since when?" He was nearly fevered with his budding anger, but you wouldn't know it from his tone. The frail voice he heard himself speak with made him feel ashamed. *When did I ... start to sound like that?*

Crystal didn't immediately answer him. She couldn't. "Since always, Pietro. I..."

"You what?" His tone gained a little strength. *That's better.* He thought. He suddenly felt... differently, and turned to face her. She was noticeably surprised, but she looked glad all the same. "I was going to say," she stalled, "I was going to ask what you meant by that."

"I meant since when do you just want to be with me, since when do you want to help me, and since when do younotcareifI'm'quietorwhatever' ?" Pietro stopped, almost panting. He realized he was shaking slightly: so did Crystal. Now he felt odd... wrong, cold... like in Genosha...

He turned to leave, to run, even as tears of frustration blurred his vision. Slim arms wrapped around his waist instantly, holding him firmly in place. He didn't struggle: he unconsciously associated pain with that by now. His anger faded like it had never surfaced, and he was glad to let it go, glad to stop caring again. Crystal nudged her cheek against his back, just between his shoulder blades. She kissed his already tensing muscles through his shirt, and loosened her arms just enough to walk around to face his front. He didn't care anymore. She looked into his eyes, hers pleading for amends, searching for forgiveness. He stared at the empty space behind her, the gathered tears in his eyes falling down either cheek. Crystal brought a hand up to his face and he flinched. Her expression went even softer. "It's just me, Pietro..." She whispered as she gently wiped away the only tears that fell. She stretched up and kissed his chin; the only thing she could reach if he didn't bend down to meet her, which he didn't. She wrapped her arms tighter around his waist, pulling him into her and hugged him. He didn't return the embrace.

After a moment, Crystal spoke softly from his breastbone. "Oh, Pietro... We can make it through this together, I know we can, but we must learn to forgive, my love. We must learn to forgive..."

He didn't answer, and she knew that she'd lost him again. She released his waist, and was not surprised at all to see his face void of the emotion that was there a moment ago, his eyes staring at nothingness, unresponsive and unmoving. She stopped herself from sighing. *It's not his fault, Crystal. He's not doing it on purpose, and he's not doing it to you.* She felt badly that she even needed to remind herself, but whenever he shuts down like this, she has a difficult time not becoming offended.

She gently took his arm in her hands, careful to avoid touching his wrist brace. "Come on, Pietro, I'll take you back to bed." She tugged a little to cue him to follow her. In response he yanked his arm from her grasp, and walked off without her. As she watched him go, she thought- *Here one minute, gone the next... maybe he's not that changed after all.* She sighed aloud, and turned to head back to the kitchen.

***Afternoon***

It was exactly the same, only completely different. Everything made perfect sense, but only in the sense that it was all wrong. He knew that it was real, he knew that it was actually happening, and he knew that he was asleep, he knew that he was dreaming. But that was all secondary to the fact that he was back in Genosha.

He felt the stabbing, white-hot pain as if it had never subsided. He felt the freezing, bitter wind, literally slapping him in the face, making it impossible to fall into the gracious unconsciousness he knew he wouldn't live to see. He saw their faces, splashed with the red and orange glow of the torch fires, the eerie colors dancing bright to dim in the fading sunlight. They were smiling, laughing, cheering... they looked like devils.

They approached like vicious serpents, hungry for his blood, for his pain... He actually heard his skin being punctured and the dense tendons underneath bored through by the metal stakes. It was the most sickening sound he'd ever known; the ripping, popping, shredding noise was akin to nothing else. Nothing in Gods nature made that sound. And he screamed. He screamed until he didn't recognize the sound of his own voice. And they laughed, and cheered, and hollered out for more.

So they approached again, with more stakes, and a renewed hunger... Where there is hope, there is life. He is alive. He knew that if help came even now, he would still survive. He would fight again, he would laugh again, he would run again. Then cold, callused hands grabbed his ankles... Those rough, cruel hands held his very heart. "No..." They heard his protest, and they laughed anew. "Yes!" Came the reply, a dozen voices at least chorusing the word. Shouts of 'do it' came from the crowd, and his hope, his life, dwindled. "N-no... Run..." More laughter, more cheers. They knew. They knew exactly what they were doing. He'd never run again: that's what they wanted him to know as he died. He would never run again if they hammered those nails through his ankles. He felt the sharp prick of both stakes at the base of his Tibia bones, just above the ankle joint. Straight through from those points, and the stakes would effectively sever his Achilles tendons, and he would never run again.

It was getting worse. His guts felt on fire, his head ached so badly the colors were all gleaming to a bright white. He clenched his teeth and steeled his stomach, to no avail; it was definitely getting worse. "N-no... R-run-n..." He moaned in pain. His eyes began to burn like lemon and salt. He started to tremble so violently that he was unintentionally tugging on the stakes through his wrists. He screamed again, and this time, he wasn't the only one. He opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. There was blue... energy? Radiating, vibrating... so beautiful, like him... but it warped everything it touched, warped it out of it's own place, out of it's rightful time, just like him... He screamed once more, not so much from pain this time, but from terror. They screamed too, just as much from pain as from terror.

No 'cops and robbers' movie can compare to the sight of someone actually getting shot to death before your eyes. No horror movie could ever compare... to what was happening now. They screamed, panicked and ran, but they could never have run fast enough. He watched them stumble, stagger and fall, wailing and hollering all the way down, where they lay on the muddy ground writhing and floundering, desperately tearing at their clothes. He watched their bodies deteriorate and decay, right before his eyes. They pounded on their chests, clawed at their own skin... their eyes sunk back into their skulls, their hair grew long, turned gray and fell mostly out, their skin shriveled and dried like poorly tanned hide, their muscles decomposed from the inside out...

They were alive all the while, screaming in agony, crying for God, and begging, no doubt, for a quicker end. Finally, the screams died out. Their lungs either withered away or collapsed in on themselves. Soon, the dozens of bodies sprawled on the ground stopped twitching at all. He was alone. He cried for them, he cried for himself; silently, too afraid to make any noise. He struggled unknowingly against the cross, against his bonds. Hot blood crawled across his wrists, down his neck, over his chest... teasing him, reminding him.

The air was unnaturally still and heavy on his body, pressuring him not to breathe. The earth below was angry, violated. He could sense it protest, he could feel it's shame. Whatever happened had raped this place of it's life, left it barren and abused. "I'm so-so s-sorry, M-mother..." His voice was gone, he could only rasp a whisper of the words. "F-forgive m-me...wh-what h-hap-pened... H-help m-me, p-le-ease, M-mother...s-sorry, help-p, p-ple-ease..."

He was sitting up in bed, sweat glistening on his naked upper body. He wasn't even close to being completely awake. He felt cold beyond reason and was nearly hyperventilated. He didn't realize that someone was holding him, or he would have realized that someone had been holding him for some time. "F-for-g-give..." He mumbled, trembling.

"Shh, Pietro, it's all right. I'm right here, everything's okay now." Crystal's voice was soft and soothing. She had kept herself calm throughout his nightmare, even when she discovered she couldn't wake him from it. She came in his room to check if he was still napping, and she found him crying out in bed, obviously having the same recurring dream that's haunted him since the incident in Genosha. He was sleep-talking in his native Romany, which she couldn't speak or understand. She was fairly convinced at this moment that she wasn't doing him one bit of good.

Then his bodies' shaking gradually subsided. She didn't release him, thinking that he probably would keep sleeping even after his dream ended, and she planned on holding him for a while longer.

"Crystal...?" He whispered, uncertainly. She hugged him closer. "Yes, I'm here." She felt his muscles tense under her hands and she knew he was awake now.

"Are you all right?" He sounded unsure and weary through his presently mud- thick dialect. She was confused by the question, and further confused by the grave seriousness in his voice. "Of course I am." She tried to sound reassuring, not perplexed. His body relaxed a little in her arms, making her smile.

"Will you lay with me?" Butterflies came to life in Crystal's stomach. *Did he just ask me to lay down with him?* She kissed the top of his silver hair. "Of course I will, Pietro." He wrapped his arms around her, and shifted their bodies so they could lie facing each other on the bed. She was surprised by his lack of hesitation, and by his lack of weakness. He never even opened his eyes, as far as she could tell.

He kept his left arm around her waist, and slipped his other under her head. Crystal settled herself in even closer than that, resting her head against his chest, just above his armpit. He could feel her breath on his skin, warming him inside and out. Crystal felt so secure in his strong arms, so safe. She traced the line of his pectoral muscles with her fingertips, and was ever so pleased that he didn't flinch when she did. The muscles did tense, though... but he always tenses when she touches him, and it has long since ceased offending her. "It's a good thing that I prefer my pillows to be firm..." She teased, assuming Pietro wouldn't respond, but he grinned despite her expectations.

Crystal's fingers tickled their way up to his collarbone, and she winced at the bruises still present there. "Does it still hurt?" She wasn't sure if she should have asked that or not. She kissed his bare chest tenderly, waiting for an answer she didn't think would come. "Everything still hurts." Pietro said softly. His tone wasn't harsh or accusatory in any way. Crystal understood that he was just being honest. She also understood that he wasn't only referring to his body. "I'm sorry." She said, resting her hand on his waist, being careful of any ribs that were broken and would still be sore. "I... It's..." Pietro knew that she wanted to hear him say that it was okay. She wanted to hear that he was okay. But he isn't, and he had nothing to gain by lying to her. "Thank you." He said, sincerely.

Crystal snuggled a little closer, rubbing her right shin against his. He hooked his foot around her calf and lured her leg in closer. She was glad for the proximity of their bodies. She's missed him terribly since they separated... and since she arrived over a week ago they haven't been intimate, or nearly this close. She assumed it was because of the fight they had, or Pietro's incident in Genosha, or a combination of both. *But then, there was that kiss...* Chills caressed her body when she recalled the kiss they'd shared that morning. Deciding they could both use another one by now, she looked up at him. He was perfectly asleep. She took a moment to admire his handsome features before resting back down into his embrace.

***Evening***

Pietro rolled onto his back, sighing softly, and burrowed the back of his head into his pillow a little further; apparently that was much better, as he immediately fell back into a deep sleep. Crystal peeked open one eye, then two. She sat up half way, and leaned over the sleeping form of her husband. His features were relaxed, even his normally clenched jaw, which was quite a pleasant surprise. She smiled and softly kissed his eyelid. He didn't stir, save for a very small... shudder? She smiled again, and carefully made her way off the bed, and out the door.

Turning the corner to the kitchen, Crystal bumped into Wanda, who gave her a measuring look. "Was he still sleeping?" Wanda asked suspiciously. Crystal continued in to the kitchen. "Yes, as a matter of fact, he was." She said over her shoulder. Wanda followed her sister in law. "And he's sleeping still?" Crystal re-emerged from the refrigerator's depth with a disappointed expression. "Yes, he's still sleeping." She almost said 'so what', but forgot about the impulse when she remembered seeing Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream in the freezer earlier.

Wanda sighed as Crystal ignored her and made an enthusiastic dash for the freezer door. *The woman looks like she'd on a treasure hunt.* Taking to making herself a cup of tea, Wanda sighed again, this time causing Crystal to laugh. "You sound just like your brother when you do that." Crystal's tone was playful as she recovered two spoons from a nearby drawer. She was already on her way out of the kitchen when she really noticed the expression on Wanda's face. Feeling bad for not seeing the apparent distress there before, Crystal came back to Wanda's side.

"What's the matter, Wanda? You look bothered." Wanda gazed at her tea, slowly stirring in the honey. "I'm worried about Pietro, Crystal. He's so tired all the time... We don't know why he isn't... getting better." Crystal shrugged gracefully. "The 'why' doesn't matter, Wanda. We just need to help him as best we can, and we're doing that already. And besides, he is getting better! He's been opening up to me a lot... lately." Only 'today', in actuality, but Wanda didn't need the minor details in Crystal's opinion. Wanda didn't look overly relieved. "I... suppose you're right." Her voice lacked any real agreement.

Crystal nodded and turned around, only to stop, and turn around again. Wanda cocked a well-arched eyebrow at the other woman's strange 360. "You look just like your brother when you do that, too... heh." Crystal fidgeted with her spoons as she spoke. Wanda put her hand on her hip. "Crystal, what do you want?" Crystal feigned insult, then got to the point. "I know that you don't like to... teach people your native language, but I was wondering if you might just, uh, translate a few words for me." Wanda's eyebrow went all the way back up. "Oh? Well, Crystal, understand that I do not have a problem with you knowing the language, as I trust you wouldn't put it to ill use. However, I must ask how you came across these words in the first place?"

Crystal blinked. "Pietro was talking in his sleep." Wanda shook her head and made a few 'tisk' sounds under her breath. "Crystal, I cannot do that, it would be invading his privacy!" Wanda's expression turned a little devious. "I mean, suppose he was dreaming about an old girlfriend..." Crystal slapped Wanda on the arm and stomped her foot. "Now stop that! He was having a nightmare, and-" Wanda interrupted, rubbing her stinging arm. "The same nightmare?" Crystal nodded. "Yes, well, I mean, it seemed like the same one. And he's never spoken during one before, and I just thought..." Crystal purposefully trailed off to let Wanda's own curiosity get the better of her.

Wanda looked to be in great moral turmoil. Crystal decided to give her a break. "How's this, Wanda. If it concerns anything he might not want me to know about, you don't have to tell me." Wanda looked thoughtful. "But what if it's something he might not want me to know about?" Crystal thought about that. "Then it wouldn't have been your fault!" She smiled triumphantly, but Wanda wasn't quite convinced. Crystal searched for the same face she used as a child to get her way, and Wanda finally gave in. "Well, we shall just see. What were the words?" Crystal opened her mouth to speak and left it there. "Ahhh..." She said. Wanda smirked. "You can't remember, can you?" Crystal huffed. "Of course I can! Just... let me think. Ahhh..." Wanda giggled and passed Crystal, heading for the door herself. "Your ice cream is melting. Good night, Crystal." She said over her shoulder.

"Sahy'el mah...and something like To- tuo brea' ahm, and... uh, Roechn uel? Are those... even words?" Wanda stopped to listen to Crystal's babbles. "Well, some very sloppy words, yes. I could only make out 'forgive' and... well... you don't really have words in English for the other two. One means 'Earth', only not in a physical sense. I guess you could say it means Mother Earth, in the way American's use that phrase, but that's not an exact translation either. And the other one is a... plead, or a kind of specific sort of prayer. Probably it was dependent on the other words as used in the context of the sentence." Crystal looked confused. "What does that all mean, though?" Wanda considered, then shrugged. "Well, he was dreaming after all, Crystal. We aren't in our most sensible state while we sleep. I can't really give you any decent idea of what he meant without hearing the words correctly, and in the order they were originally spoken. Sorry."

Crystal's eyes were downcast and disappointed. "Well, that's okay. I guess it's not really important. Thanks anyway, Wanda. Good Night." Crystal left with haste, realizing her ice cream really was starting to melt.

Leaning on the doorframe, her bedtime cup of herbal tea in hand, Wanda pondered deeply. In her mind, she repeated the words over and over. Tapping her red painted fingernail on her mug, she lazily strode back to her bedroom. "Sorry, forgive me, please, help me, Rhcae'iel... Pietro... what in God's name was happening there...?"

"Talk'ing tho me?" Simon called from the bathroom with a mouth audibly over-full of toothpaste. "No, never mind, Simon." Wanda replied, seating herself cross-legged atop her bed. "Never you mind... "

***

"Wakie, wakie..." Crystal smiled at the sleepy blue eyes blinking up at her dazedly. "I've got ice cream... " She tempted. Pietro shook his head and rolled over, showing her his uninterested back. "Strawberry Cheesecake, Pietro..." She added, her tone turning seductive. Pietro slowly rolled back over, hesitating a couple of times. "Truly?" He asked, suspicious. Crystal giggled. "Yes, silly. Now come here or you're not getting any." She blushed when he raised a questioning eyebrow at that last sentence. "You know what I meant..." She handed him a spoon and scooted closer on the bed, setting the carton down between them.

An entire half-gallon later, Crystal moaned from the position she'd collapsed into earlier. "I can't believe that stuff is so good." She said, clasping her full stomach. Pietro climbed back into bed after discarding the empty carton and lied down next to her. Their eyes met, and suddenly she felt very out of place. A few days ago, Hank said Pietro was well enough to sleep out of the infirmary. Ever since, he's been sleeping back in his old room. Crystal automatically allowed herself claim to the couch, which Pietro never said anything about. But then, he hadn't really said anything about anything.

Crystal was just about to speak when Pietro beat her to it. "Stay with me?" She blinked, and wondered how those butterflies had any room to fly in there with all the ice cream she'd just consumed. "Of course I will, Pietro..." She said softly, brushing a stray lock of silver hair from his brow. Not being long enough to fold behind his ear, it flung right back to where it was. Crystal struggled to stifle a giggle, but she needn't have bothered. Pietro reached over and kissed her, and all of her attention surged to the experience. He broke it off far too soon for her liking.

Pietro shifted to get under the covers, and Crystal did the same, also turning off the lamp, which was on her side; Pietro's side, she realized, since it had the only bed stand, and alarm clock, and lamp, and book... "Do you want your place back?" In the darkness, Crystal could just barely make out the outline of the smile that crossed his face. "Yes." Pietro said, and pulled his wife much closer.


~ End ~