~ Disclaimer ~ Marvel owns everything. I make them more money by writing Fan-Fiction for free, and what do I get in return? Writers block. If anybody sues anyone for anything, I'm suing Marvel for royalties.

~ Rating ~ This story is rated R for disturbing imagery and saying Hell. Read at your own risk, as I refuse to be held responsible for your disturbances; I have them too.

~ Keys ~ Characters' Thoughts look * Like This.* Telepathic Speech is ~` Not In This Story. `~

P.S. If anyone would like to teach me how to use Microsoft Word with efficiency and confidence, I would be eternally grateful. (Every time I think I've got it licked, the darn thing nips me in the butt) In return I could tech you how to belly dance. (No, really)

By SylvrGypsy

It was like a nightmare. Only he wasn't sleeping through it, he was waking up to it. A bad nightmare. The kind that you wake up screaming, gasping, shaking, and sweating from. The kind that doesn't just let you take a shower, get dressed, eat some breakfast and forget about.

*Yes,* he mused as he sheepishly slipped back into semi-consciousness, *this will not be easy to get over.*

The first thing the mutant speedster known as Quicksilver took notice of was the pain. A sharp, stabbing pain, so intense that he couldn't immediately tell from where it was coming; nor did he immediately care. The second thing was the light. It seemed ten times brighter than it needed to be for the human eye to see clearly; although, he wouldn't be the best judge of that, since he hadn't as of yet actually opened his eyes.

"There we go, that's better. Told you guys, he just needed a little help was all."

The voice of Dr. Henry Pym was familiar to Quicksilver, but the young man lying half-awake on the bed really wasn’t at all interested. Seated beside him was the probability-altering Scarlet Witch. She was an Avenger, a Mutant, and also the twin sister of the injured man lying in front of her. She had disagreed, moments ago, with her brother's doctor, Henry Pym. Dr. Pym suggested that her brother be given a dose of oxygen to help wear off the anesthesia that was administered during Quicksilver's surgery several hours ago. The Scarlet Witch had protested. In her opinion, her brother was resting, and that was a good thing. Dr. Pym didn’t see it that way.

"I want him to rest, too, Wanda. But I don't want him under such a heavy dose of anesthetics while doing it. He's in danger of going into a coma at this point. He just needs to be roused a little, then he can sleep naturally, and there'll be no worries."

And so it goes. The doctor, being the doctor, got his way. And Wanda, not being a doctor, didn't get hers. And that wasn't the only thing that was vexing her. At this moment, there were exactly four too many people in this room with her and her twin. These included Lorna Dane; the mutant Polaris, the Living Legend himself; Captain America, the Inhuman Elemental; Crystal, and the always-gets-his-way Dr. Pym; Giant Man.

Wanda felt like screaming. Ever since the surgery was over, people had been continuously coming in and out of this room. First the doctors, in and out, in and out. Then Simon Williams, in, then at Wanda's insistence, out again. Next it was Captain America, in, and after too long, out again. Then it was Hank again, in, more examinations and a change of bandages for his patient, then he left to see about some noise coming from the hall. And now, everyone and their buddy simply must be in this room, for one reason or another.

Yes, Wanda did indeed feel like screaming. But she didn't. After losing her argument with the good doctor, she reverted back to her self-appointed duty, keeping vigilant watch over her brother. And so she sat.

"I don't think he's going to wake up anymore than that, Dr. Pym."

"Well, like I said, Ms. Dane, he might not rouse to the point of total coherency, but he'll still pull out of anesthesia more than he is now."

The room fell silent. Everyone was waiting for something.

Captain America was hoping Hank was wrong about the whole issue of coherency. There were a few things he wanted to ask Quicksilver as soon as possible, and he was pretty sure that he could coax the answers he needed out of a half-asleep Pietro, but not an incoherent one.

Lorna Dane hadn't exactly stated a reason for being present. That is to say, she hadn't stated a reason, but there was one. She was the one who had found him. Saved him. The memory was painfully raw in her mind. It was still a little hard to look at Pietro, even now. His face was bruised and cut in several places from the beating he had suffered. But the wounds did nothing to distract her attention from his hansom features. She was always fascinated by his unique appearance, even back in the days when they worked together in X-Factor. He had a certain look that she could only ever describe in her mind as exotic. Watching him now, she couldn't help but give thanks for how lucky he was to be alive. And how lucky…she was.

Crystal, in her opinion, was there for the most obvious reason of them all. She was his wife. He was her husband. All there is to it.

Henry Pym watched the medical monitors carefully for any change in their readings. There had been a slight inconsistency in Pietro's heartbeat a moment ago, but it had since evened out to a steady rhythm.

The Scarlet Witch rubbed her temples, nursing the headache she'd developed over four hours ago.

Someone cleared their throat.

Someone read the clock on the wall for the time.

Jarvis padded quietly by in the hallway.

A soft rustle came from the bed. Wanda, being closest, noticed first. Her sudden interest alerted everyone else's attention.

Lorna, who had been standing at the foot of the bed, was swiftly passed, and slightly bumped, by Crystal, who hastily made her way to Pietro's left side, opposite Wanda. Dropping to her knee, the Elemental nearly grabbed her husband's hand; a reactionary habit, she did it even when they were fighting. But this time, it could have been very bad, and didn't go unnoticed by Wanda. Crystal almost gasped as she got a closer view of her husband's battered face and body. When she first came in, only minutes ago, she hadn't gotten very close to the bed, because Hank flocked to one side immediately, mumbling something about being unhappy with his rate of respiration, and Wanda was positively glued to the other. But up close, she could see Pietro clearly, and the view alone made her want to cry. The hand that she nearly picked up was bandaged thoroughly around the wrist, and there was already a little blood visible through the fresh white gauze.

"Oh, Pietro, my darling. I'm here, my love…can you hear me?"

Lorna shifted uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

"Hi," Crystal said, smiling, and feeling her own eyes sting with tears. She searched his wonderful blue eyes for some kind of emotion, some kind of response, but if anything, he didn't seem to hear her at all, or really even see her, for that matter. He just gazed at her with empty and not completely open eyes. He looked so sad, Crystal noticed, so hurt. *Sweet Agon, had he looked like this the last time I saw him?* She couldn't remember. They remained connected for what seemed like an eternity to Crystal, and she relished in every second of the contact.

After a moment Pietro turned his head back the other way, his features cringing from the effort.*He has a concussion…* Crystal remembered being told so earlier by Hank. Pietro stayed with his head centered on his pillow and stared blankly in the general vicinity of the ceiling. He looked to Crystal to be thinking. He looked to Captain America to be sleeping with his eyes open, which wasn't an ideal condition from which to answer questions efficiently.

Taking a step forward, Steve said sternly- "Pietro, wake up." Wanda nearly jumped out of her seat and mauled him. Captain America meant well, she truly tried to believe, but she drew the line at allowing him to give orders to her brother in his current state. "Steve!" She hissed. "You-" She was cut off when he gestured to her brother. The strong and commanding voice of Captain America proved yet again to be a never failing tool for getting people's undivided attention, as attested by Pietro stirring out of his ceiling trace. He blinked sleepily a few times, and moved his legs a little, but that was all. It wasn’t good enough for Steve. He walked over to Crystal's side to get closer, and decided to try for Pietro's full attention. "Pietro, look this way." Ignoring as best he could the threatening glares from Crystal and Wanda, he used a softer tone to try and appease the two women. "Come on, Pietro, look at me. You can do it, I'm over here." Steve snapped his fingers twice to provide directional assistance.

Pietro turned his head again, this time towards Wanda. She offered Steve a smug grin, but said nothing. "I think he's off-duty, Captain." Lorna almost chuckled. "Thank you, Polaris." Steve left the bedside and wondered closer to the door.

Wanda was joyous. Her brother was looking right at her.*He knows I'm here,* she thought fondly. His eyes were bloodshot and drug-hazed, his face bruised, cut and swollen, his dry and cracked lips were etched in a pained frown, he looked anything but happy to be awake; but at least he knew she was there. *He finally knows I'm here.* Wanda forced a weak smile to surface and wished fervently that he would return the favor. "Hello, big brother." Her smile widened, his frown remained. Wanda tilted her head to one side to match the angle of his face. "Are you sleeping?" She asked sweetly. He squinted when she spoke. His jaw twitched after a moment. She could tell his tongue was working moisture around the inside of his mouth, which she imagined must be terribly dry. "Can you talk to me, Pietro?" Wanda's tone was gentle and unassuming. Pietro offered a small grunt as an answer. It sounded like he was working his way up to actual speech.

Crystal was visibly excited when he responded to Wanda's request for communication. She almost went over to Wanda's side of the bed to be in his line of vision again, but she decided against changing positions, figuring that since he knew she was over here already, he'd probably be turning back her way any minute now.

After a while, Pietro shifted his body's position sluggishly, and groaned from the pain caused by moving something that would rather remain still. Again, his eyes focused on the ceiling. Hank spoke up from his intent staring contest with the monitor screens. "Pietro, try not to move too much. Just lie still, relax."

*Hank's answer for everything…* Crystal thought, unimpressed. "If he needs to move a little, and he is able to do so, then leave him be." Crystal looked at Hank with a knowing statement. "He is no stranger to waking up in this sort of situation, Hank, he knows his limits." Hank didn't believe her, but remembering that Crystal has nursed her husband before while injured, he decided not to take up the disagreement.

"Fine. Well, he seems to be doing all right. These readings aren't anything to be worried about." Hank went to Wanda's side. Pietro's eyes didn't come away from the ceiling. "Pietro, can you tell me how you feel?"

"Doctor, please." Lorna tried to keep herself from sounding angry. "Doesn’t that seem like a silly question? How do you think he feels?"

"What I mean to find out," Hank was obviously controlling his own tone, "is if he feels sick, or dizzy, or something unusual."

"I…understand you." Everyone's surprised stare at Wanda turned into absolute shock towards her brother. "I was…ignoring you." All eyes were on Pietro, who couldn't care less.

"Pietro," Hank was so taken aback he could barely form a sentence to speak, "how do you feel?"

"I heard you…the first time." Pietro's voice sounded like it had been chained up and drug over loose gravel for a least ten miles. His words were slurred, his dialect even thicker than Wanda's had been. Without warning he began to sit up, seemingly without any comprehension of which way is actually up. Wanda shot out of her seat like a bullet. "No, no, Pietro, don't get up." She waived her hands in front of him as discouragement, too afraid of hurting him to touch him. "Want…up." He demanded weakly. Hank, Wanda and Crystal chorused the reply. "No."

Pietro was frustrated to no end. Not only was his body completely ignoring what he was trying to get it to do, but now he was being told 'no'. He hated being told no. "You…will…getting up." He was referring to his disobedient body, but giving orders verbally to himself only served to worry everyone else, and his body still wouldn't obey.

"Pietro, please," Crystal's voice was wracked with concern, "don't push yourself like this." She was pleading with him. He didn't care. And he couldn't understand, regardless. For some reason, English wasn't making total sense right now. But they didn't need to know that. He's spoken English exclusively for years, after all. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a high-pitched yelp. He fell back down to the bed from his semi-risen position, which just hurt him some more. Red dots of pain danced on the back of his eyelids as the room started to spin.

"Pietro, what happened?" "What did he do, Hank?" "Crystal, did you touch him?" "No!" "He just hurt himself, is all, peoples." "Told you he shouldn't move." "No offence doctor, but a lot of good that does us now."

*At least they're arguing in a language I can't immediately understand…* Pietro winced from the freshly aggravated pain. He had tried to use his hands, without thinking, to pull himself up. That's what had hurt him so badly. He stifled a sob with tremendous effort and peeked open his eyes, which he found unappreciatively watery. *That…hurt.*

Wanda and Crystal were quieted when they noticed the tears falling from his face. Lorna and the others were next to fall into silence. Pietro didn't like the lack of noise. It meant they were watching him. *I will not cry. I do not cry.* He bit his lower lip and closed his eyes again, which made more tears fall. *I do not cry. I will not cry.* It still hurt so badly, though…

"Maybe, uh, yeah…come on, folks. We should go." No one really listened to Hank. "I said that's it, guys. Everybody out. Patient needs rest, doctor knows best, show's over, thank you and come again, good bye." Lorna and Steve looked at Hank like two children who weren't really to get out of the pool yet; Crystal and Wanda didn't bother to look at Hank at all. "But, Hank-" Cap started, "Doctor, I-" Lorna tried, Hank just crossed his arms and gave them both his very best professionally straight face. "Not even." He said, totally serious.

Reluctantly, Lorna took one last look at her injured teammate, her friend, and turned away from the foot of Pietro's bed, heading towards the door. *I'll be back soon, Pietro.* She thought sternly as she left. Captain America was even more reluctant to leave. "Hank, I still wanted-" Hank shook his head. "No questions or answers today, Cap, I won't allow it." Less harshly, he added, "I'm sorry Steve, he's just not up to it right now." Steve nodded and turned. He was the Avengers' leader, true, but he knew it wasn't his place to question Hank's opinion on his patient's condition. "I'll be available, if anyone needs me." He closed the door behind himself when he left.

"Well, ladies," Hank took another look at the monitor screens and nodded in satisfaction, coming over to Crystal's side.

"'Well', what?" Crystal asked, suspicious. "Well," Hank continued, "I guess I'll be going too. There's no need for me to stay, if the two of you are. But I'll be back for another checkup in a few hours." Crystal beamed. She thought he was going to try to make her leave. Wanda, on the other hand, never had any question. She knew that she wasn't going anywhere, period. "Thank you, Hank." Crystal waived in good bye. Hank nodded. "If he needs anything, just call me. I'll be close by." Hank leaned closer to Pietro's bed and looked down at him once more. His eyes were still closed, and it didn't look like he had tried to move again. Hank figured he was probably asleep. "Good." He said, more to himself than anyone else, and he left.

Wanda's eyes met with her sister-in-laws. She had the urge to growl, just a little. Crystal would settle for a hiss, herself.

"W-women," Pietro rasped from between them. They both looked down at him. His eyes shut tightly as he readjusted his head a bit on his pillow. Crystal opened her mouth to speak. Wanda purposely cut her off. "Pietro, how do you feel?" Crystal glared. "What is that, Wanda, the question of the day?" Wanda wasted no time. "At least I've been here all day." Crystal wished for fangs to bare. "What, exactly, is that supposed to mean? And for Agon's sake, do control your accent so that I can understand you." Wanda sneered at the insult. "As I understand it, you are thoroughly unable to understand anyone at all these days!" Crystal was ready with a comeback before Wanda had finished her sentence, but again she was cut off.

"Hurts..." Wanda and Crystal looked down at Pietro again. Tears were flowing freely down his battered face; an amazing feat for the tears, since his eyes were clenched shut. "It just…hurts so badly…it never stops…anymore…"

*Is he talking to me? Is he talking about me?* Crystal had to tense her muscles to keep from reaching out and touching him, from picking him up and holding him.

*Is he talking about me? About something I've done?* Wanda held her breath to keep from bursting out a demand for more information.

The tears didn't stop; instead, they gained pace. His eyes opened, and went back to their new hangout on the ceiling. Suddenly he felt a ticklish sensation on his forehead; such a delightful contrast to the pain he felt everywhere else. Gently, someone brushed a lock of his silver hair behind his ear. He knew it was Crystal now, he remembered how she used to do that all the time, in that same way. 'You need a haircut,' she used to tease him, even if he didn't need one. Her contact only made more tears flow; how he missed her touch, and how he knew he wouldn't be feeling it now if not for his condition. The thought forced a sob to escape that he couldn't stop in time. He shut his eyes again. He couldn't see anything through all the tears, anyway. He turned his head in the direction he thought was towards Wanda. Very softly, someone kissed his eyelid. Crystal again, she used to do that when he slept, and he always woke just enough to revel in the tingling that was his body's reaction. He didn't revel in it this time. He began to say 'stop', but he didn't know the word in English anymore. He said it in Romany instead, assuming Wanda would translate, but the word came just out as another sob.

He felt a light pressure on his right arm. It was a hand, he realized, Wanda's hand. She caressed his upper arm gently. It was so nice, just to know that she was there, to feel that she was there. Again, he couldn't help a sob. All this attention, and all because he's hurt. But where was this attention when he was simply hurting? Half of it was locked away in a castle in which he wasn't welcome, and the other half openly disapproved of the life he'd fallen into. The frustration and pain and exhaustion and helplessness was enough to make him want to cry; or scream. But he hasn't the strength to scream, and he doesn't cry, not him. Except this once.

Wanda thought it was a good sign. That he could cry in front of her and Crystal was progress in her book. It was healthy to cry, and sometimes it's the only thing that helps. She knew that he'd feel a lot better after he got it out of his system. She knew that that was the only thing really wrong, besides his injuries; he just needed to let it all out, for once.

Crystal knew that she shouldn't have spoken to Wanda that way. She felt terrible for upsetting Pietro. But she was making it better now, at least. He had liked it when she touched him, so much so that he was overcome with emotion. That was a good thing, in her opinion. She wouldn't leave him even for a second, not while he was this hurt, this fragile. He'd have her complete attendance while he recovered. She'd give him all the love, attention and affection he needed while he healed. That would make him feel better.

Pietro wondered if he wasn't in Hell. He didn't bother to control his weeping now. He didn't care anymore. He closed his eyes and let his sobs sound however they came out, which was usually desperate and pitiful. *Pathetic.* Pietro thought. *Just pathetic.* He shut his eyes and just cried. It didn't matter. He didn't care. He turned his head after the second time Crystal wiped away his tears with sickening tenderness. Facing Wanda he cried some more, caring only about not moving again. His chest ached terribly, but that was only his heart, which never stopped hurting these days anyway. It was only everything else that he minded causing him such pain. His concussed head, his dislocated shoulder, and his wrists…God, how his wrists hurt. So he simply wouldn't move anymore. He'd lie still and not move or do anything at all until his body healed, and to Hell with everything else. He just didn't care. Suddenly, almost willingly, he fell into a deep sleep. He had a plan now, after all.

Wanda and Crystal looked at each other, bordering on being panicked by the abruptness that Pietro nodded off with. But they said nothing. After all, abruptness was not an uncommon trait for the man called Quicksilver to display.

Wanda took her seat, and quietly watched her brother sleep, Crystal pulled up a chair of her own and mimicked Wanda.

In their own separate ways, everyone was content.

~ To Be Continued. ~