~ Disclaimer ~ Marvel owns everything except my car, which is not featured in this story. Anyone looking to make a buck by suing me, under the guise of suing me for using Marvels characters without asking, is a silly person. Anyway, I don't have any money; like a lot of people, I just paid my taxes.

~ Rating ~ Pansies beware! I'm rating this story an R for disturbing imagery and naughty language. Although, everyone who has read my stories so far told me that they weren't 'R' worthy …But I'll get there someday! ;)

~ Keys ~ Telepathic speech might actually appear in this story, and if it does, it will look ~` Like This. `~ Characters' Thoughts are * Like This. * Now, if the story still doesn't make sense, I can't help you. ;)

~ Authors Notes ~ The Author is well aware that she talks too much, so she will make this short. This is the sixth installment of my 'Sins' series. This story is a crossroad for me, because when I first planned this series out I made certain to leave myself the option of stopping it in the middle, which would be here, or writing the whole nine yards, which is what I've decided to do. So, ha-ha to all of you who may have become addicted to my writings, because now you have to read another five or so stories. ::Laughs evilly at her in-evil plan::

The next week went by pretty quickly. Wanda and Crystal stayed faithfully by Pietro's side. Hank Pym made regular medical examinations, and planned to start up a physical therapy routine soon. Several of the other Avengers frequently visited their fallen comrade and his ever-present wife and sister. Dr. Curtis, the surgeon who operated on Pietro, came by for a check-up visit, after which he stated that he'd never seen anyone heal as fast as Pietro.

All was well.

Crystal and Wanda had agreed to disagree about their individual opinions for the time being, and they hardly ever excused themselves from Pietro's room to openly argue with each other in the hall anymore. Lorna Dane had stayed at the mansion, complying with Pietro's own request. He asked for her promise that she wouldn't return to Genosha, and she gave it to him. At the time, it wasn't anyone's place to oppose her decision to remain at the mansion, so no one did.

All was well. But really, it wasn't.

Pietro doesn't care to eat regularly, sometimes insisting that he isn't hungry, and other times actually getting sick from the food. He wakes from the same nightmare every night without fail, after which he is unable to go back to sleep. He doesn't speak to anyone more than is absolutely necessary. He won't even keep his eyes open if he doesn't have to. Every visitor walks on eggshells in and out of the infirmary room. Pietro usually avoids acknowledging most of them, either by conveniently "sleeping" through their visit, or by becoming terribly interested in what's up with the ceiling right then. They smile and say hello, but they can really only talk to Crystal or Wanda. No one asks anyone what's wrong with Pietro, or why he still isn't coming around. 'Brain damage' and 'Traumatized' are the whispered words heard from the hallway or the breakfast table, so long as Wanda and Crystal are out of earshot.

All is not well.

***Now***

"So what do you think, Hank?" Steve Rogers stacked some papers and shuffled them out of the way, clearing his desk of the clutter. "Brain damage? Post-traumatic stress disorder? Am I missing any possibilities?" Steve settled with his forearms rested on his still somewhat messy desk, his fingers casually laced together.

Across the desk, Hank Pym sat uncomfortably. It wasn't Steve that was making him feel ill at ease; it was the conversation topic. "Well," Hank shifted in his seat, "I don't know." He expected the other man might laugh, although Captain America's stoic demeanor never faltered one bit. "I see." Steve's reply was even, without so much as a hint of accusation or dissatisfaction. Hank was thankful for the favor. The two men sat in silence for a few minutes.

Eventually Steve rose from the desk and made his way over to the window, pulling open the blinds and gazing outside. Without turning, he addressed the other man. "So we know that Pietro has been acting differently, we just don't know why."

Hank adjusted his reading glasses; two habits he was developing, wearing his glasses all the time, and adjusting them relentlessly. "Well, he doesn't talk much anymore, true. But I think after what happened, that could hardly be considered overly strange. Besides, it's only been a week."

Steve nodded. "Did you know that I went in to talk to him the other day?" Hank wished he could look at his friend's face, instead of the back of his blonde-haired head. "Yes, the girls-er, ladies, told me. What did he have to say? I assume you meant to ask him about what happened in Genosha."

Steve nodded again, but never looked away from the window. "I did ask him about Genosha. He just said that he didn't want to talk about it. And that was all he said." Steve turned, and Hank could see suspicion in his deep blue eyes. "I want to know what happened, Hank, and if Pietro won't tell me, there's only one other person who can."

Hank was perplexed. "But Lorna already told us what she knows." He noticed Steve flinch at his words, and he could almost hear the wheels turning in the other man's head. "But her story doesn't explain why Quicksilver is…the way he is now, Hank." Steve's voice matched his expression: suspicious.

Hank was completely dumbfounded. And moreover, he wasn't convinced anymore that his good Captain had his facts straight. "Steve, be fair. I think her story explains everything perfectly. And like I said, it's only been one week. Give him some time."

Steve nodded in disagreement. "Pietro could never lie in that bed for as long as he already has without doing something, Hank, and you know it. Yet he hasn't asked for anything to keep himself occupied with, like a book to read, or a television to watch. He doesn't even speak more than the barest minimum necessary. He's not himself, and I think it has something to do with what happened."

Hank abandoned his seat, exasperated. "Of course it does, Cap! It has everything to do with what happened! Like I keep saying, this isn't something that'll just breeze away by itself. He might need extensive psychological and physical therapy before he's back to acting like himself, or maybe he'll even need to retire completely, I don't know. But what I do know is that everyone, for whatever reason, is expecting him to just bounce back any minute now, and I hate to be the one to keep saying this, but this time it isn't going to be that easy."

Captain America stood with one arm supporting the other elbow, his chin resting against his closed fist, looking thoughtful. "I'm glad you agree with me, Hank. Something definitely is bothering him, and it's definitely related to Genosha. So let's call in Lorna Dane, and see what she has to say about it."

Realizing that Captain America had just pulled one of his famous argument-winning tricks, Hank calmly sat back down, grinning internally. "Maybe we should just work harder to coax Pietro into talking, since we've already heard Lorna's side of the story."

Steve rejoined him at the desk. "Yes, but I still want her to refresh my memory. I think there are some things I might have missed the last time we spoke." Hank was getting amused now. He was never prepared when Cap played it sly. "You think there's something she didn't tell us?"

Steve shrugged and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "I think, at the time, she had a lot on her mind, as did we all. And in situations like that, facts aren't always at their straightest."

Hank nodded, understanding; disagreeing, but understanding. *At least I know where Cap's coming from. But I hardly believe there's anything Lorna didn't tell us. Besides, why would she withhold information?* Hank stood up again and headed for the door. "I'll ask her in. You want I should ring the others too?"

Steve had since gone back to organizing his paper jungle. "No, let's keep this private for the time being. I'll talk to her alone first."

Hank nodded and went out, glad to switch places with Lorna for a while. *See how she does in the hot seat.* He thought.

***Later***

A soft rap sounded on the door. He had forgotten it was closed. "Come in."

Lorna Dane entered the office and closed the door behind her. "Afternoon, Captain. Something I can do for you?" He motioned for her to take a seat. "Good afternoon, Ms. Dane, and I certainly hope so."

Getting comfortable in her chair, she said, "Plain 'Lorna' is just fine, if you like. To be honest, I've had 'Ma'am' this and 'Ms.' that up to here over the last couple of months." Lorna gestured above her head with the word 'here'. "Besides, in my opinion, last names are over rated." She shrugged.

Cap smiled softly. "Lorna it is, then." He didn't offer his own first name for her to call him by, but then, she hadn't expected he would. His expression turning more serious, he pulled his chair closer to the desk at which they both were seated. "Lorna, I want you to tell me about Genosha, and what happened to Pietro."

Lorna blinked, wondering how old this Captain was that his memory was going already. *I thought Pietro said he was somewhere under thirty, and because of the Super Soldier Serum, he wouldn't really age anymore. That contradicts senility.* She studied his face, but the half-mask he wore made it difficult to see any indication of his age. "Captain, I already told you everything when I first got here, remember?"

Steve shook his head. "No, no, excuse me. What I meant to ask was if you'd tell me again. I want to take it from the top. Just tell me everything you can remember, refresh my memory."

Lorna thought hard for a long moment. She was sure the pause didn't pass by unnoticed to Captain America. She had intended to speak with Pietro by now. But the last time she tried, he only made her promise to stay out of Genosha, and after she did so, he shut back down again. No, Pietro wasn't going to be of any help to her this time. It was a difficult decision for her to make, but finally, Lorna made up her mind. *When in doubt, tell the truth.* She thought. "Captain, let's not be covert with each other here. If I read your meaning correctly, you've figured out that I exempted a few details from the original telling of my story, am I right?"

Steve had a hard time concealing his surprise. *How is it,* he wondered, *that people believe I would make a good politician? I can't even beat around the bush without getting caught.* His brow furrowed from the slight bruising to his pride, but he continued. "I wasn't trying to be covert, Lorna. I just don't want you to feel like you're being interrogated. I don't want to interrogate you, and moreover, I don't think I should have to."

Lorna shook her head. "No, you shouldn't, and you won't. See, I don't have anything to rightfully hide. I was just…protecting Pietro, I guess. Silly of me, really, since I'm sure he'd tell you himself anyway." Lorna looked away, concern creeping into her eyes. "If he was a little more conversational right now, that is."

Cap stared at her intently. "What would he tell me, Lorna?"

"Well," she said, taking a deep breath, "let me start again from the beginning."

***Genosha- Two Weeks Ago***

The Island of Genosha was once a beautiful nation. Genosha's capital, Hammer Bay, was once a beautiful city. By some, Genosha could still be considered beautiful; for all that it is ravaged by war, raped by hate, and seemingly damned by fate. Years ago, the human population of Genosha enslaved their mutant brethren, turning them into near-mindless servants, forced to build the cities, and serve the humans. Years later, things changed. The mutates were subsequently freed from slavery, mind control and servitude. They were again free to lead lives of their own choosing, wherever and however they pleased, even if that meant leaving their home country and starting anew.

It is said that the more things change, the more they stay the same. And that couldn't be more true for Genosha. Recently, the mutate population of Genosha are enslaving their human brethren, forcing them to rebuild the cities, and serve the mutates.

Today, Genosha is at war.

There is a military body that is opposed to the humans' prosecution. This side claims that slavery as punishment isn't fair justice for the humans' past crimes against the mutates. This military party is thoroughly human. They call themselves the Army of Freedom.

There is another military body that claims slavery is indeed fair punishment for the humans' past crimes against the mutates. This military party is entirely mutate. They call themselves the Army of Justice.

There is another military body that claims Magneto is the sole cause of all of Genosha's ails. Overthrow the King, and gain his Kingdom. This party is made up of mutates and humans alike. They call themselves the Army of Genosha. This group is the only one Magneto himself is concerned with. They have the most weapons, the largest army, and the greatest chance of succeeding; something Magneto would never say aloud.

Nevertheless, as with many wars, there usually isn't much warning. One day, Magneto, along with his Cabinet, Secretaries to the nation, Acolytes and Rebuilding Committees are all working towards a better tomorrow, a better Genosha. The next day, the Army of Freedom is at war with the Army of Justice. Magneto cared little about this. Both sides are simply composed of stray civilians, so to speak. Unwilling to abide by the new President, when Magneto was given complete and total governmental authority over Genosha, they rebelled at once and then disappeared. Now they reappear, calling themselves armies. They are relatively small armies, with each wanting mostly to kill the opposing side, more than actually achieve their own goals. They seemed content to slaughter each other in simple street battles, which was fine with Magneto.

Then, the Army of Genosha took to war with Magneto's Protectorate. The Protectorate consists mainly of Magneto's Acolytes, along with other enlisted mutants and humans, sworn to protect Genosha and it's President. This war was cause for more concern. The Army of Genosha is larger then the others, which seems simply impossible. So many people had already fled Genosha, and so many more were already working for the nation, working for Magneto. This third rebel army was unexpected. This new war was unexpected. And so it goes.

The Army of Genosha sought to overwhelm the Protectorate, to drive Magneto from Hammer Bay, and eventually drive him from Genosha. For several long, hard days, the Protectorate held the Genoshan Army at bay, just outside the city limits, although just barely. Magneto was sure that the Protectorate would win, in the end. He was sure that the Army of Genosha would eventually fall. He was certain of it, until the point when his own son, Quicksilver, was sent out of the relative safety of Hammer Bay to serve as a spy for the Protectorate. His mission was to locate the Army of Freedom and the Army of Justice, as they had both gone missing when this most recent war began. Magneto though it a peculiar coincidence, and worth the Protectorate's attention. Quicksilver never made it back to Hammer Bay.

Via a radio message, Quicksilver contacted the Protectorate days later with his findings. He did indeed locate the missing armies. They had both secretly joined forces with each other, and with the Army of Genosha. The newly formed alliance army was planning an attack of it's own on Hammer Bay in mere days. Quicksilver discovered and relayed the information just in time to save Hammer Bay, along with everyone defending it. Immediately upon hearing the news, Magneto sent a special strike force of Acolytes out of the city. Their mission was to stop the new allies of the Army of Genosha before they reached the capital. If the allies were able to reach Hammer Bay, and reinforce the Genoshan Army, all could be lost.

The strike force was a powerful one, albeit rather small. The failure or success of their mission could determine the outcome of the war. Polaris, whose control of magnetism is surpassed only by Magneto himself, and Exodus, possessing nearly omnipotent psionic powers, lead the chosen Acolytes. By themselves, it is possible that these two leaders alone could defeat one entire army, assuming they had no companions to lead, and nothing to refrain from destroying during the fight. However, there were two armies to defeat, and Magneto had ordered that every weapon be left in working order, no more buildings were to be damaged, and he wanted live prisoners.

Polaris didn't want to kill anybody regardless, but she wasn't confident that she could easily detain an army of gun-bearing human solders without ruining any of their weapons, and if they took refuge in a building, how could she avoid any structure damage? And how could she effectively ensure that her teammates make the same effort? Exodus didn't care about killing the solders or not; frankly, he expected them to surrender anyway. But if they didn't, he knew deep down it was going to be timely, and difficult, to put down an army of mutate war dogs without harming their equipment, carefully mind damage control and lead his own team through the battle all at the same time.

The Acolytes had coordinates from Quicksilver's last broadcast, which gave them a general idea of where they needed to be in order to intercept the allied armies' venture. However, the coordinates were inconveniently far away, and it was more than likely that the allied army had since moved on from that location. However, since Quicksilver was incommunicado, the last coordinates were the only lead they had. Exodus and Polaris managed to agree on an educated 'guesstimate' of the most probable marching route that the allied armies had taken, and it was agreed that Exodus would teleport the entire strike force to a location they hoped was still in front of their target.

Polaris wasn't at all fond of the idea of Exodus teleporting the team. She had observed that teleportation actually drained him to a noticeable degree, especially if it was a large number of people over a great distance; in this case they had both qualifications. An exhausted Exodus, who was already in a bad mood, was not in her, or anyone's, best interests. But, he had insisted on the strategy, and when that didn't work, he had effectively pulled rank.

Lorna never imagined she would have been so grateful for his stubbornness.

As decided, Exodus teleported the team proximately thirty miles from Quicksilver's coordinates, which should also be no farther than fifteen miles from the present location of the allied armies. With a suspicious amount of luck, a scout sent ahead by the allied armies practically ran straight into the Acolytes. After a telepathic probe of the scout, Exodus informed the Acolytes of a new dilemma. For reasons unknown by the scout himself, the allied army had split into two groups again. Something like two thirds of the army had gone ahead to attack Hammer Bay, and the rest remained at the original coordinates, meaning to catch up with the larger group later. After another debate, it was decided that Exodus would take the Acolytes to Hammer Bay's defense, and Polaris would go alone to assure the smaller sanction of the allied army would never get around to catching up with their comrades.

***Avengers Mansion- Now***

Lorna took a long drink of water, savoring every swallow. She held the glass in front of her and smiled fondly. "Ah, ice." She took another few drinks before setting the glass back down on its coaster. "I haven't known the luxury of ice in my water for months now."

Captain America tried to hide his disappointment. He hadn't gotten her that drink so she would stop talking. Although, he was quite proud of himself for finding those coasters, tucked away in a particularly messy desk drawer, during his earlier cleaning spree. Deciding to take her break for what it was, he went to work on his own water. He really wasn't thirsty. He set the glass down and gave Lorna his best provoking glance.

She didn't miss the cue. "Well, before I go on, do you have any questions so far?"

"No. Thank you." The same glance.

Lorna was feeling mischievous, and tried to think of another way to stall her continuation, just to see what he would do next. But professionalism won over her pestering mood that day. "Fine, then I'll go on. And thank you for the water."

"By all means, and you're welcome."

***Genosha- Eight Days Ago***

Polaris was tired, both physically and emotionally.

She had been fighting with the Protectorate for nearly an entire week against the Army of Genosha. In that time, she was also eagerly awaiting to hear from Quicksilver, as he had been sent away several days ago to spy on the whereabouts and goings-on of the opposing, and recently missing, armies of Freedom and Justice. He hadn't returned. Two days ago, he sent a radio message, informing Magneto that the missing armies had joined the Army of Genosha, and were about to attack Hammer Bay on their own, serving as reinforcements for the already attacking army. And that, the Protectorate did not need. Magneto sent Polaris, Exodus, and a small band of Acolytes to deal with this new problem, before it actually became a problem. After discovering that the allied armies had again split into two forces, the Acolytes did the same. Exodus took the Acolytes to defend Hammer Bay, where the larger of the two armies was headed, and Polaris went on her own to detain the smaller of the two armies, who were still stationed at Quicksilver's original transmission coordinates.

In fact, she was using her command over the magnetic fields of the earth itself to fly as damned fast as she could towards that exact destination. She was flying as damned fast as she could. And she kept repeating that to herself, she was repeating it like a mantra, over and over. It wasn't helping.

She was nervous about her mission. Something seemed wrong. Something seemed off. It made sense to her that these two smaller armies allied themselves with the more powerful Army of Genosha, but why would these two newly allied armies then split up, after making a plan of attack towards Hammer Bay and the Protectorate. Why did one sanction head off first, and leave the other, the smaller one, to follow behind later. Something wasn't right. Lorna forced it out of her mind. She couldn't figure it out just by thinking about it; she didn't have enough information to do that. All she needed to do was get to her destination as fast as she could. And she was flying as damned fast as she could.

It was a cold night, just before dusk. A storm was probably in the works. She couldn't see the sky clearly for the accumulating darkness, and for the fact that she was too busy looking straight ahead to look up, but the scent of rain was prominent in the air.

Suddenly Lorna stopped in mid air, silent and still. That smell… A moment ago it was just like rain, but now it was… something else, something decidedly foul. Suddenly Lorna felt a chill run down her spine. It occurred to her for the first time that she was completely alone, in the near-pitch dark, about to throw herself into unknown battle. It hadn't even occurred to her to ask Exodus for someone to accompany her, and it was his suggestion that she go alone. At the time, she assumed the information he telepathically derived from the scout was sufficient to convince him that Polaris could handle it on her own. And perhaps Polaris could, but Lorna was scared.

Taking a deep breath, Polaris focused her mind. She decided that this was it. She was going to do this. She could do this. *Be strong, Lorna. You are as strong as you need to be.* She took one last minute to steady her nerves before she continued. That same foul smell was getting to the point of being a worry. It meant something was close by. Lorna looked at the setting sun, and checked the sky for an Angel offering to help her. No such luck. Leaving her fears behind, she flew ahead.

It didn't take her long to find new and thoroughly justified reasons to be afraid.

***Avengers Mansion- Now***

"Can I just…take a minute?"

Steve blinked. He was expecting her to say anything except that. "Oh. Well, of course." He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what was wrong. Lorna was visibly getting more and more upset as she told the story.

"Thanks. I just… well, forget it. I'll just go on."

"No, no." Cap rose from the table enough to fill her glass again from the pitcher in front of them. "Take your time."

"Thanks." Lorna drank her newly replenished water. She really wasn't thirsty anymore. She carefully didn't look at Cap for a minute. That persistent stare wouldn't do anything for her upset stomach. But then, neither would dragging this out. "So, where was I?"

"Ah, moving on from the sunset, and something about a strange smell. What was it like, by the way?"

"Oh, kind of hard to describe. It was… foul. I guess that's the best way to put it. Have you ever smelled a body after it's been dead for a long time?"

Cap nodded a little, as if a definite 'yes' as an answer might disturb her. "I've been to war."

He said soberly, imagining that was as gentle an answer as he could come up with.

"Well, that's the closest comparison to it. And as I got closer, that's what I imagined I was going to find. A bunch of bodies that had been dead for a while." Lorna shrugged, a little disappointed in herself at how unemotional her voice had become.

Cap tried not to sound overly anxious, but he was becoming desperate to get to the bottom of this. "Lorna, please go on."

***Genosha- Eight Days Ago***

The setting sun cast an eerie light through the wicked clouds of the brewing storm overhead. Lorna landed on the soggy ground without making a sound, save for the small gasp that escaped her lips as she beheld the sight before her. Straight ahead, was the most disturbing sight she had ever seen. There was someone, a man, she imagined, actually strung up on a cross, in a mock-Jesus fashion, it seemed. From her distance, she couldn't immediately tell if the person was actually nailed to the cross or not, but in truth she didn't immediately care. She looked around her landing point, terrified. Bodies, dozens of them, were utterly strewn across the dreary landscape. She realized, disgusted, that she would actually have to watch her step if she planned on walking through the…battle ground? Slaughter zone? What on earth could she describe this place as?

Lorna stifled a scream as she nearly toppled over a body that she didn't get her foot clear of. She realized that she wasn't thinking clearly. She could simply fly over these bodies, yet she was trying to walk around them. Putting her hand to her stomach, as is that is where her wracked nerves are located, Lorna, for reasons even she was unaware of, bent over for a closer look at the unfortunate she almost fell over top of.

She put her hand over her mouth to discourage the retch she knew was coming. The sunlight was scarce, and rapidly becoming ever more so, but she could see well enough the face of what was once a man, now decayed and…somehow mummified. This man's skin was the consistency of rotten leather, transparently thin at spots and unnaturally thick at others, tautly covering bare bone, instead of muscle. Strangely, his teeth seemed somewhat intact, although his eyes were long shriveled dry and fallen out of the sockets. His mouth was agape in a silent scream…she could almost hear his cry's echo even now. Lorna held her breath to keep from shouting, crying, or vomiting; whichever came first. Hesitantly she looked over the rest of the man's body, or rather, what was left of it. His worn military uniform was still in perfect order, save for being dirty, and there were a few rips and tares here and there; one of his hands was actually still clasping his torn lapel. *He was tearing at his own clothes…for what?* Lorna wondered, then her eyes settled on his exposed hand. The skin matched that of his face, and there also was a lack of any significant or recognizable muscle tissue. All the bone structure seemed intact, though.

Quickly, Lorna straightened. She felt like she was going to pass out. She took several deep breaths, but it didn't seem to be helping. She was nearly gasping for air, but still had no breath. She tried to concentrate, to levitate, so she wouldn't have to trip over any more of these people. But the focus wasn't there. Slowly, carefully, she began to walk. As she did, she noticed that there were only three common badges worn among the dead; one badge she recognized as the badge of the Army of Freedom, the other was the Army of Justice, and the last was the Army of Genosha. Members from all three of the rebel armies were here, for something…and it seems they were all butchered here, together. *And what of that poor soul on the cross?* Lorna didn't realize that she was walking in that direction. *Was that the event that brought these solders here? Some sick human sacrifice celebration, or just plain torture for sport?*

Suddenly, Lorna realized that she didn't have to be here anymore. If this was the army that she was supposed to keep from reaching Hammer Bay, then her mission was accomplished for her. She should turn around, catch up to the Acolytes, and help them stop the other sanction of reinforcements from reaching the capital. Just as the thought crossed her mind, she was distracted from it. She was approximately thirty feet from the person on the cross. A man, she was certain now, from the shape of the body. It was too dark by this time to distinguish any other features at this distance.

In her mind, Lorna made a categorization of all the things she'd seen here. She felt positive at this point that this… massacre was the result of an attack by what must have been a very powerful mutant. Everything she's seen here might help later, if ever there was a chance to search out or prosecute the killer. The way the bodies had been…mummified…aged? And the way they were each decayed a little inconsistent with each other, and how the bodies became denser as you got closer to the center of the half-circle…

Center of the half-circle. Lorna stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around. Yes, she was indeed standing almost in the perfect center of the dead solders, arranged in a sickeningly neat half-circle. They were fewer and farther between as she looked farther away, and they were practically side by side where she was standing. From her viewpoint, the bodies were strewn in a geometrically perfect fan shape, as if they had been positioned that way on purpose…

All at once it hit her. When she first landed, she had been at the outside of the 'fan', where there were the fewest bodies. At that point, the cross was straight ahead of her. She was walking towards it from the beginning, and now she was opposite her starting position. *The cross.* Lorna felt sweat actually starting to freeze on her brow. *They were huddled up close to the front of the cross, and then they started to run. The people on the outside got the farthest, and the people shoulder to shoulder, here, didn't get a chance to run much at all, because they were too crowded.* Lorna slowly turned, shaking not entirely from the temperature alone. She gazed at the cross, only ten or so feet from her. It was so dark and cold now, so very dark.

"Y-You poor…p-poor soul…M-maybe th-they…des-sserved this." Lorna felt a hot tear run down her face. She decided that she had to leave, she had to get out of this weather, before she was in danger of hypothermia. But, she also decided that she wasn't leaving alone. "Died here, b-but…won't b-be…b-buried here...s-solder." As she got closer to the cross, she noticed the man's uniform, torn, worn and bloodied that it was, as military camouflage. She wondered which side he was from, but the chest area of the uniform was torn away, probably to make the victim colder, and that's where the insignia would have been. At her present proximity, she could see that the man was indeed nailed to the cross. Metal stakes, through the wrists, not the hands. None in the feet though, although his legs, as well as his arms and chest, were bound with chain…*Probably they were going to nail his feet too, but then…whatever happened, happened, and…* Lorna was embarrassed by her own thoughts. She still wasn't thinking clearly.

At that instant Lorna's heart jumped into her throat. *His chest!* She actually ran the remaining few feet to the cross, and thanks to the darkness inhibiting her eyesight, she had to trace her hands, as best as she could reach, down the man's bare chest to confirm her realization. "Oh, my God!" Lorna shouted aloud, the volume of her own voice startling her. Desperately, she scrambled into her emergency sachets strapped to her uniform. She found her lighter, and cursing herself for her own callousness, she madly tore clothing from a body lying closest to her, bundled it together and set it afire a few feet behind her. It burned much better than she thought it would. When she turned back around she could see the man on the cross more clearly. His semi-exposed body was handsomely sculptured, every last curve of his torso detailed exuberantly with tight, hard, lean muscle tissue. Muscle! And flesh! Not a single trace of decay of any sort was apparent on this man. *How is it that he alone wasn't affected by what killed these other men?* Lorna wished to God she could see who he was, but her own shadow cast from the fire behind her wouldn't allow it. *He must be a mutant…maybe he's the mutant who did all of this…but then why wouldn't he have defended himself sooner?* Lorna concentrated hard, and she managed to levitate, surprising herself as she did so. She flew closer, and nearly fell out of the sky when she finally saw what she couldn't see before.

"Pietro…" Her voice was softer than a whisper. She reached out, her hand shaking violently, and stroked his soft silver hair; it revealed that her fingers were not completely numb, as his scalp still felt warm to them. "Oh, P-Pietro…" Warm, salty tears stung her eyes and streamed down her face, "I'm s-so s-ssorry…" His entire body was already starting to bruise badly, and he was still bleeding from several lacerations, despite the cold. His eyes, to Lorna's unease, were bloodshot and wide open, boring right into her. His mouth was slightly open, as if he was just about to speak. His total expression was etched in horrible, agonizing shock. She closed her eyes forcefully, and through stern concentration she gingerly tugged on the metal stakes hammered through his wrists, until they came free from his body and the wooden cross to which he was bounded. She let the stakes fall to the ground without a second thought, concentrating next on the metal chains. As she forced them apart, she helped Pietro's limp, battered body slide into her open arms. His weight would be too much for her to support if she didn't have the fields of magnetism as her own personal crutch.

Very gently, she lowered them both to the ground. She magnetically carried her lighter over to the cross, and let it catch on fire. She needed the warmth, and she might need the beacon. With her legs folded under her, she rested Pietro's head in her lap, and gently closed his eyes. She purposefully hadn't checked for a pulse before, because she was certain she wouldn't find one, but out of habit, she did so now.

Lorna very nearly had a heart attack. *A pulse! Oh, my God, he's still alive!* She was immediately panicked. She didn't know what to do, only she did, or she should. Frantically, she stripped out of her own jacket, ripped off the sleeves and as gently as she could, considering numb fingers and shaking hands, she bandaged Pietro's wrists, which were still bleeding in a trickle. She laid her jacket over his naked chest, and pulled his cold body closer to hers, trying to keep as much of him off of the freezing wet ground as she could. *Okay…help…I need help…* Scurrying back into her packs for her radio, she remembered that it's connected to her headpiece. She dialed for her 'co-leader' with the number pad on her forearm unit.

The radio beeped, and beeped, and beeped. She was getting colder, and she noticed with a stab of fear that Pietro was never even shaking, and at this moment he looked paler than death itself. *He's in shock, I can't just move him…I need help…now.*

Finally, there was a break on the line. "H'ere! Go a'head!" It was Exodus, sounding more than a little distracted, with that strange dialect, usually very mild, absolutely seeping through.

"It's Lorna- P-Polaris! I need help, I f-found P-Pietro, and he's b-badly injured." There was a pause that was too long for her liking. There was the distinct sound of gunfire in the background. Lorna was desperately rubbing Pietro's arms and shoulders, trying to warm him.

"Ah don' believe you call'ed me far-" He was cut off abruptly and Lorna thought she heard someone scream. She hoped it was him. "-Still there? Polaris?"

Lorna was still rubbing Pietro's arms, hoping she was doing some good. "Yes, I'm s-still here." There was another pause, and when he spoke again there was less background noise. "Ah 'ave no one Ah can spare to h'elp you... suggest you come back to H'ammer-" A loud explosion sounded. She wondered how bad things were there.

*'No one he can spare'?* Lorna felt her temperature rise, and was actually thankful for the favor. "I n-need your help, you b-bastard! Do you th-think you can 'spare' the Son of Magneto's life?" There was more gunfire, then everything went oddly quiet. She wondered if he had been shot. "Exod-dus? What's happening n-now? Where a-are y-you?"

"In H'ell. Where are you?" She realized what he was asking might actually indicate cooperation. "I'm at coordinates-" He interrupted her- "Never mind, ah see you now… what h'appened there?"

Lorna wondered how he was 'seeing' where she was. *Has he entered my mind, or is he just telepathically scanning the area?* She decided it didn't matter.

"I d-don't know what happened. It d-doesn't matter. Pietro's in sh-shock, if I fly him somewhere it'll only-" He interrupted her again, this time sounding much more distant, and his usual zen-like tone had returned. "Get worse, I know. I am blocking his pain right now as best as I can." Lorna was both surprised and uneasy with that. "Until we win this war, Lorna, his life is still in danger. See him attended to, and keep him protected, or you shall answer to Magneto himself."

Lorna was about to speak, but the radio went dead, or rather, it went out of range. Suddenly she was materializing over the ocean, Pietro in her arms, as well as in her magnetic grasp. For a moment she was furious. She had no idea where that lunatic had teleported them to. Then she turned around and saw the New York City skyline in the distance. *Oh, well, that works.* Without another thought she sped off, destination: Avengers Mansion. If what Exodus said has any merit, she knew she would do better taking Pietro there than to a regular hospital.

***Avengers Mansion- Now***

Lorna discarded the tissue she had taken to nursing somewhere during the story, and finished her second glass of water. "I think that's pretty much everything."

Captain America had more mixed feeling than he could sort out in a week. The murdered solders were…not the kind of information he had expected Lorna to 'exempt', as she put it earlier. Cap didn't know what to make of that part of the story. Disturbing images of the dozens of dead solders, lying frozen and abandoned in that field, already decayed beyond recognition, played on his mind. *Are there families still waiting for those men to come home? Would they ever get a solders burial? Would they ever get justice? Without a body to examine, no one may ever know for sure what, or who, had actually caused their deaths…unless Pietro…* Cap shook his head. "Lorna, I appreciate that you came straight with me about this."

Lorna had since taken to a somber reverie, staring blankly at the floor. She came around when she heard her name. "Do you think I shouldn't have left them like that?"

Cap shook his head. "Lorna, you did the exact right thing. Pietro was alive, and although it isn't kind, that made him more important than those solders."

*Especially if they're the one's who crucified him, but Cap's too polite to say that.* Lorna thought. "Captain, if there's nothing else, I could really use some air."

Cap stood up. "I was thinking the same thing." He tried to force a smile, but it never came. "Thank you, again." He extended a hand over the desk. Lorna rose and excepted the shake, also not quite managing a smile. She left with only a nod for a goodbye, feeling strangely awkward.

*What's the matter with me?* Lorna thought as she hastily made her way to an exit. *I thought talking about horrible things is supposed to make you feel better.* Lorna was glad to finally reach the kitchen's back door. *So why do I feel like shit?*