~ Disclaimer ~ Marvel owns everything, even the computer I'm working on, so if there are any continuity mistakes in this story, that's why.

~ Rating ~ This one's pretty boring. No more NC-17 or R. Let's rate it a mere PG-13, for offensive language, minor adult situations, and an argument scene that's pretty dull.

~ Authors Notes ~ For Heavens' Sake, Whatever You Do, Don't Review This Story! And don't enjoy it, either... in fact, don't even read it at all, just let it sit here and rot. And for that matter, let me rot as well, not like I have any feelings or anything... no, no! Don't feel obligated to make my day just by E-mailing me a few simple, kind words or some such silliness; you just go on about your business, enjoy your day, Happy Surfing. And for the record, reverse psychology doesn't work at all; some shrink just made it up on a bet.

~ A Stretch ~
By SylvrGypsy

***7:02am - Avengers Mansion***


Crystal walked out of the steamy bathroom, wrapped tautly in a thick, oversized bathrobe, embroidered with the name 'Pietro'. Seating herself at her vanity while towel drying her wet golden hair, she noticed in the mirrors' reflection that the bed behind her was already made. "Good morning, Pietro." She cooed towards the walk-in closet, where her husband probably was located. "Morning." He called back, sounding preoccupied. "Again." He added, emerging with a sly grin on his handsome face. Crystal blushed as she remembered the wonderful love they had made earlier. Before she knew it he was behind her, his strong arms wrapped around her slim waist, hugging her fondly. She melted gladly into his embrace, wishing it would never end. His lips tickled her neck as he placed a few swift kisses there, and his soft silver hair tickled her cheek when he stood back upright, releasing her with a smile.

For a second, as if on accident, Pietro looked at his reflection in the mirror. Crystal noticed his expression change suddenly, dramatically. But he turned away and headed back into the closet before Crystal could understand what she had just seen. *What was that look on his face? Anger? Disgust...?* Crystal quickly pushed the question from her mind, as if Pietro could hear the thoughts inside of her own head. "I hope the shower didn't wake you up, Pietro. You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to disturb you." He came out of the closet again, a pair of running shoes in hand. Crystal noticed that his mood seemed different now. Like something had changed. "Honey? What's wrong?" Crystal spun around on her stool to look at him without the mirrors' help. "I... couldn't find my shoes." He replied flatly; his grin was long gone, along with his playful tone.

Crystal followed him to the nightstand with her eyes, and kept watch as he struggled his way back into the wrist braces he was supposed to wear constantly. Pietro quickly shot her a sharp side-glance. "What?" He asked, sounding annoyed. Crystal jumped a little, realizing that she had been staring. She tried to speak but stammered, unsure of what to say. Pietro sighed nearly soundlessly, and sat down on the bed. Reluctantly, he took to the arduous task of tying his shoelaces. Unable to look away for long, Crystal cringed when she saw Pietro wincing from the effort of such a mundane chore as putting on shoes. Clearly, using his fingers and hands to pinch and pull the laces tightly enough was causing him pain.

Crystal decided to alter the direction the morning had recently taken. She didn't know what had changed Pietro's mood, but she felt confident that she could change it back. Things had started out more than perfectly, after all, and she was determined to keep them that way. Swiftly, she hoped off of her vanity stool and breezed over to the bed and knelt in front of Pietro, who had just resolutely finished tying his last knot. He flinched at her, apparently not noticing before that she was approaching. His face was a bit drawn, and also to Crystal's disapproval, he had indeed lost some weight. She forced herself not to worry about it for now, reminding herself that he hasn't slept or eaten well enough over the last couple of weeks, and he is still recovering from his injuries, after all.

She smiled up at him, placing her hands on his quadriceps and rubbing it skillfully. Pietro tensed at first, which Crystal expected, and then relaxed a little, which Crystal appreciated. "Feel good?" She asked hopefully. He just nodded in response; his expression entwined with an emotion Crystal couldn't place for the life of her. She rubbed more diligently, and carefully asked; "And besides misplacing your shoes, is there anything else the matter?" Pietro's unreadable expression twisted and deepened with her words, troubling Crystal. She decided that snapping him out of his current state of mind, by whatever means, would be far better than leaving him in it. So she opted for lying on a bit of marital guilt.

"Sweet Agon, Pietro... this isn't about this morning, is it? Wasn't it... didn't I please you?" Pietro flustered and rushed to meet her eyes, searching them frantically for any trace of humor. Somehow Crystal managed to keep from laughing as guilt washed over her husbands face. But guilt, in her opinion, was much better than whatever it had replaced. "No, Crystal- I mean of course you did, yes!" Pietro took her hands in his, tenderness overcoming his tone. "Crystalia, what on Earth made you think that?" Crystal beamed internally as her plan unfolded without a flaw: he was back out of the stoop he'd fallen into. "I don't know, really." Crystal gave a small, lonely shrug before going on. "You just seemed a little upset with me, or something." She looked at him innocently, begging with her eyes for an explanation. Pietro seemed hard-pressed to find any answer for her at all, much less an explanation. "No." He said after long deliberation. "I'm not upset with you, Crystalia." She bated her eyes and looked weary. "Are you sure? Everything's really okay?" Pietro nodded, managing a reassuring half-smile. "Even this morning's extra-curricular activities?" Crystal asked, winking flirtatiously. Pietro laughed without any real strength and brought her hands up, kissing each in turn. "Yes, especially that." Pietro blushed slightly, and Crystal couldn't contain a giggle.

"You are so cute sometimes." Crystal said, climbing up to sit beside him on the bed. Pietro raised one quizzical eyebrow. "Oh, really? And what am I the rest of the time?" He asked, his dialect making Crystal's head spin cheerfully. She smirked, leaning in close to his ear. "Sexy." She whispered, purposefully brushing his earlobe with her lips. Pietro shivered uncontrollably and laughed at himself, pulling Crystal into him for another embrace.

After a moment, he softly admitted; "Actually though, I was pretty nervous earlier." Crystal looked up at him. "I could tell." Pietro grumbled. "Great..." Crystal jumped out of his arms as if spayed with cold water. "Oh No! Sweet Agon, no! I meant before, not when we... uhm, I didn't mean..." Pietro grinned and shook his head lightly. "I know what you meant, Crystal. I'm just giving you a hard time." He nodded towards her. "You're blushing, by the way." Crystal angrily wiped at her cheeks, truly only making her face redder.

"Well, the least you could do is tell me why you were nervous in the first place." Crystal nestled her way back into Pietro's arms, which she noticed were a little tenser than she'd left them. He shrugged. "I don't know. Never mind." He answered distantly. Crystal squirmed back out of his grasp and stared him square in the eye. "I mean, no particular reason, I guess." He added meekly. "Forget about it." Crystal wasn't going for that in the least, and said as much with her glare. "Just general nervous tension, you know?" Pietro looked away, pretending to read the time. Crystal huffed, but it didn't get his head to turn. "But caused by what, Pietro?" She tried not to sound demanding. "Well, a kind of fear, I suppose." Pietro really was having a hard time reading that digital clock. Crystal delicately led his face towards hers with her hand. "Fear of what, Pietro?" She asked tenderly. His eyes shot away from hers. "Rejection."

Before the sound made it's way to Crystal's brain, he was already off the bed, and heading towards the door. Crystal's mind was reeling. She wanted to call out and halt him, to get up and stop him, to shake him until more information came breaking loose; but she could do none of those things for her shock. "Pietro...?" She managed, just before he was out the door. He cocked his head slightly. "I'm... justgoingforarun." The door closed swiftly, and Crystal's heart sank.

"Rejection..." She repeated forlornly. "You were afraid I might reject you... reject your needs, your love..." tears fell down Crystal's face that she didn't bother to fight, "because I've done so before..."
Sitting in the silent, suddenly cold room, Crystal softly wept, wondering if she had the strength and the will to reap what she had sown.


***One Month Ago - The Secluded Inhuman Civilization of Attilan in the Himalayan Mountains***


An enormous crack of thunder followed a bolt of lightning that had set the entire sky alight for seconds on end. Quicksilver cursed the raging storm overhead. The weather reports said this ugliness would blow east by this evening; apparently the weather reports were wrong, as the storm was headed directly to Attilan. Quicksilver saw a rain droplet several feet ahead of him, frozen, by his perception, in midair. He didn't bother to change his course in order to dodge one little raindrop, and in fact he was a feeling little thirsty, so he gobbled it up as he ran by. He mused that he could do for a few dozen more, which might actually give him an entire swallow of water, instead of a single drop.

Finally, Pietro saw the Inhuman's Royal Palace in the distance. It was beautiful in it's own imperialistic way. But Pietro knew in the back of his mind that it was a place he would never call home; at least not honestly. His home, his heart, was right here with him now. This is where he belongs: running free, running fast and running well. When he is here, he is completely alone, as much as he is truly himself. Today, he loves the feeling. Always, he needs the feeling: the wind in his hair, the earth under his feet, the sky over his head... he needs it all in a way that words cannot describe. He tried to explain it to Crystal once, but it only upset her. She thought that he was addicted to his powers, or getting some kind of 'high' from using them. She didn't understand that it was just a simple and perfect purity in his life, and that it was a part of him, maybe even the best part of him. From then on, he kept his secret pleasure to himself; his own private, wonderful world, where he is always King without question. No one needs to know that he couldn't live without it, or that yes, he does get a little anxious if he can't go out and run whenever he pleases. But Pietro never considers himself an addict. There are a lot of things that people cannot live without; food, sleep, oxygen... or in Pietro's case, speed. And so what? There's nothing wrong with being unique.

Stopping at Attilan's front gates, Quicksilver ordered the sentry to allow him passage. The little bugger actually had the nerve to ask what business Pietro had in Attilan. *Must be a new guy.* Pietro thought. After a venomous scolding, the sentry apologized repeatedly, opened the gates, and practically clicked his heels as Quicksilver sauntered by. Pietro snickered at himself as he sped on to his wife's living quarters. *That poor sentry probably wet his prettily pressed pants. Oh well.* Arriving at Crystal's domain, Pietro quickly ran his hands through his messy silver hair, and straightened his already straight uniform, before knocking on one of the the oversized twin doors leading into the main foyer. One of Crystal's hand maidens answered, looking surprised and alarmed by Pietro's presence. The young woman sputtered and stuttered as Pietro pushed the door open and let himself in. "Hi. Where's Crystal?" He asked as politely as he could after a long and hard run that he wished would never end. The girl blinked, her mouth agape, and pointed up a ridiculously opulent red carpeted staircase. "My lady has already retired for the evening." She peeped, staring in awe at the man before her. "Okay." Pietro zoomed up the stairs, heading for Crystal's bedroom.

He found himself becoming annoyed by the wholly unnecessary elegance of the hallway alone. Pictures and paintings framed in gold and ivory hung on the exquisitely painted walls. The carpet looked authentically Persian and far too expensive for something meant to be walked on. There were even miniature glass chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Pietro sighed, wondering how complete of a lie it was when Crystal told him, before they wed, that all she ever wanted was a 'simple life'. And to think that Pietro's heart had soared, because he believed that a simple life was all that he could ever offer her. Of course, he was younger then, more foolish, and ignorant to boot. He didn't even know who he really was. He wasn't the Son of Magneto then; in his young, closed mind, he was still just a poor Gypsy's son, an abused weapon of a tyrannical madman, an unappreciated Avenger. Possibly sooner than he was prepared for, Pietro also became a husband, a father, a soldier... A soldier. Literal darkness crept into Pietro's mind at that last thought. He intentionally avoided thinking about that particular part of his life...

Magneto. He had changed everything. Pietro's entire life was altered forever by the revelation that Magneto was his blood father. Pietro matured from the knowledge, and ultimately changed from it. Or was it everything else that changed from it? Tears watered Pietro's eyes as he remembered the first night spent in bed with Crystal, after they learned the truth about his parentage. He was staring at the ceiling, shocked numb and lost in confusion. Not since he had been temporarily crippled from near fatal injuries had he felt so vulnerable, and for the first time since Crystal and him were wed, he didn't want to hold his wife; instead he wanted and desperately needed to be held by her. But that night, for the first time since they began sharing a bed, Crystal hadn't snuggled into his arms to sleep, nor sweetly kissed his mouth goodnight, nor whispered softly that she loved him. Every inch she was away from him on that bed might as well have been a mile. The Son of Magneto was not held, kissed or loved that night, and by the morning Pietro had no more tears to shed for himself. Crystal slept on her side of their bed from then on, unless Pietro instigated otherwise.

Taking a deep breath, Pietro softly rapped on Crystal's bedroom door. She opened it immediately. She was dressed in a gorgeous light peach colored nightgown... one hundred percent imported Indian silk, Pietro imagined. The somewhat dim light of the hall cast shadows cleverly on the curves of her supple figure, making it hard for Pietro to concentrate on speaking. Crystal huffed and stepped aside, waiving Pietro to come in. He did so, Crystal quickly shutting the door behind him. There was not a single artificial light on in the entire bedroom, but light from the moon, half-covered by the storm's murky clouds, shone a bluish glow through the open French doors leading to Crystal's private balcony.

Crystal had busied herself with lighting a few candles while Pietro looked around. She bitterly wondered if he was searching for a secret lover that might be stashed away somewhere, under the bed perhaps. Turning, Crystal half-seriously expected to see Pietro lifting up the mattress skirt, or opening a closet, looking for her nonexistent partner in adultery. What she didn't expect was to find Pietro watching her with a curious, fond expression, which was exactly what he was doing. "How did you know I was here?" He asked, stepping towards her. Crystal gawked at the pleasant tone of Pietro's voice as he blew out the lit match she had been holding, just as it began to burn her fingers.

Crystal opened her mouth to answer but lost her breath as Pietro gently slid his arms around her waist. Almost questioningly, he pulled very lightly on her body; she didn't resist, and was being thoroughly hugged in no time. A little reluctantly at first, she returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around his body and relaxing her head against his chest. "My hand maiden called me and said you were coming up." She answered eventually, feeling Pietro nod his head, his face buried in her hair. He took a deep breath and rocked her lightly in his arms as he exhaled and pulled her, incredibly, even closer. "Missed you." He said softly, his words muffled from under her mane of golden hair. "Well, I... missed you too, Pietro. Is everything... okay?" Crystal was growing suspicious by his affections, and this unscheduled visit. He held her firmly by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. "I hope so." He replied, multiplying Crystal's suspicions.

"Well," Crystal questioned wearily, "what exactly is that supposed to mean?" For a split-second Pietro looked offended, then changed his mind and smiled. "I just mean that we need to talk, Crystal." Looking at the clock, Crystal anchored her fists to her hips. "At midnight?" She asked, clearly annoyed. Pietro shook his head. "No, not necessarily at midnight. But now will do just fine since you mentioned it." Crystal's head drooped tiredly. "I'm not in the mood for this, Pietro. Not at all." She felt his strong hands travel to her shoulders, rubbing them with a master's touch, striping away her unease without even asking. "Well, I suppose we can talk in the morning, if you would rather." Chills raced down Crystal's spine. His voice was so damned sexy, and his hands weren't helping any. It took all of her strength, but Crystal backed away from him, braking his grasp. "No, if this was so important for you to come all this way, we'd better talk now." Pietro shrugged. Bewildered, Crystal noticed that he held a half-empty glass of water in his hand, which she could have sworn wasn't there a second ago...

"Actually, this has been a priority of mine for a long time. But I have been... extremely busy in Genosha." At the mere mention of that horrible island, Crystal cringed. "Well, I'm ever so happy for you, Pietro. You get to work yourself sick again. What a wonderfully ideal lifestyle that you lead." Pietro bristled at his wife's bitter sarcasm, but steeled his patience nonetheless. "Nonsense, I would do no such thing." He defended evenly. "Oh, is that so? Is your memory going on you too, Pietro, as well as your common sense?" Crystal had prepared herself well in advance for this argument, ever since Pietro said the word 'talk', and right now she considered herself ahead in the game. Pietro put up his free hand, signaling 'stop'. "Crystalia, do not... be this way. I don't want to fight with you, and besides this isn't even what I came here to discuss." Crystal sighed, defeated; she was doing so well! Pietro thirstily emptied his glass and set it on a nearby dresser.

"What is it then? What do we so desperately and urgently need to discuss right now at midnight?" Pietro gazed out of the glass doors, beginning to swing erratically from the building wind. "There's a pretty nasty storm coming, I ran through it on my way here..." Pietro turned, looking intently at his wife. "I came to talk to you about us, Crystal. I came to... ask you about us. When you left me-" Crystal interrupted. "You make it sound like bloody murder!" Pietro scowled at her. "Shush." He snapped, and continued. "When you left me, you said you needed space to be alone, and time to think things through. And you know it killed me, Crystalia, but I did give you those things..." Crystal's eyes wandered to the floor; she knew where this was going. "So now I want to know." Pietro finished. Crystal decided to stretch out what little time she had to think with. "What do you want to know?" Pietro sighed, believing she just didn't understand him. "I want to know what you have come up with during your thinking time and your breathing space. By now you should have everything nicely figured out. Right?"

Crystal felt that if she looked him in the eye she might crumble to pieces. "I think," she stalled, "I think that I... don't know yet... for sure." Pietro shifted his weight, obviously losing his calm composure. "Well what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Crystal spared him a cool glare. "It's supposed to mean that I just don't know yet, okay?" Pietro crossed his arms stubbornly. "No, as a matter of fact, that's not 'okay'." Passing him to head towards the balcony, Crystal shot over her shoulder; "Well, it's going to have to do for now, Pietro, because that's the only answer I have." After shutting the doors, Crystal turned to face her husband, challenging him with her eyes. Quicksilver never backed down from a dare. "Then answer me something else." He said, his voice surprisingly controlled. "Exactly how long am I expected to wait for Her Majesty's decision?" Crystal fumed at his mockery, at his audacity. "Weeks more, maybe months more, or perhaps even longer? Answerme!" Pietro didn't mean to shout, but Crystal did. "Fine!" She cried. "If you want an answer now, then the answer is get lost. How dare you come here like this and start demanding answers, I don't need you here tapping your damned feet on my account, Pietro, and it seems that's all you're good for, so just forget it!"

Whirling around, Crystal buried her face in her hands. She honestly expected Pietro was already gone and she prepared to sob madly. Then strong arms enfolded her from behind like a blanket. Pietro had to physically force her to turn around and face him, and she fell immediately into his arms when he did so. They stood in silence for several minutes, just holding each other. Crystal managed not to cry, and Pietro managed not to run away. Eventually, Pietro broke the silence. "Crystalia, I want to make this work, I want to make it right, if you will only tell me how...?" Crystal sighed, shaking her head. "After all we've been through, Pietro, I just don't know if that's possible anymore." Pietro took her by the arms. "Well why not, damn it? I love you, Crystal! I want us to be together again..." Pietro pulled her close once more, hugging her tightly. "Crystal, we have nothing to lose by trying. I miss you so much, nothing is right when I am without you. I've been so lonely... and I'm tired of being alone! I'm so very tired... Please, Crystalia, I need you..." He whispered close to her ear, making Crystal shudder involuntarily.

He gently grasped her neck, tilting her face towards him, and kissed her within an inch of her life. She knew what he was asking for with that kiss. She could feel, even taste, every last want and need in his heart, his body. But Princess Crystalia Amaquelin- Maximoff has needs of her own, and presently is far more interested in tending to those. Rain fell with a hailstorm's force outside, the pounding rivaled only by the beating of their hearts. After longer than was sensible, they parted their kiss. Pietro refused to release Crystal, his hold on her unbreakable, and he was ignoring her feeble half-hearted struggles. Crystal found her words transparent and nearly soundless as he nudged against her cheek, his soft silver hair tickling her face. "I think..." Crystal forgot the rest. He was so strong, holding her so tightly. "I love you." He repeated. "You should go..." Crystal finished her sentence at last. "I don't want to go. I want to stay here tonight, with you." Pietro shamelessly explained, and kissed her neck hungrily. Crystal felt her resolve faltering as he advanced again to explore her mouth...

"No, Pietro. Stop." She said, her voice sharper than she'd intended it to be. Pietro's heart literally skipped a beat. 'No', 'Stop'? She's never said no to him before, never stopped him, refused him, not ever when he's been away and alone for so long... "But," He started to protest, his voice lacking the same confidence it had before. "I said no, Pietro, just stop it." She felt the slightest tremble in his arms as they slid away from her body. She steeled her nerves and looked him in the eyes, baffled by what she saw. He looked... hurt, sad? Could her Pietro even get sad? Crystal thought not. Pietro opened his mouth, but no words were formed. Crystal stepped back, furthering their distance. "We can talk later, at a more decent time of day. But for now, I want you to leave. Please." Pietro turned, barely in time to conceal his wince. He was utterly amazed when he felt actual, real pain stab at his chest. Was he having a heart attack? That would certainly simplify things, anyway...

Swiftly, numbly, he moved out onto the balcony, without once looking back. If he's going to suffer cardiac arrest he'll suffer it with his feet on the ground; or with his back on the ground, as the case may be during such a painful ordeal. Sprinting, Crystal followed him outside, dumbfounded. "Pietro! Where are you going?" For an instant, Crystal imagined he might jump right over the balcony's rail, which he did indeed hop on top of. "Have you lost your mind?" Crystal shouted through the storm. "For Agon's sake, Pietro, what are you doing?!" Pietro walked carefully over to where the railing adjoined to the palace wall, not bothered at all by the height, the pouring rain, or Crystal's pleads. Glancing down at Crystal, Pietro took a second to study the texture and slickness of the stone wall he was preparing to run down. "I'm leaving. Is that not what you wanted?" Without waiting for an answer, Pietro ran down the length of the wall, disappearing instantly into the stormy night.

Crystal always hated it when he ran on vertical180-degree angles, and she wondered if he hadn't done so now just to disturb her. Searching for her husband's 'blur-signature', as she came to call it, Crystal cursed. Her gown was ruined from the rain, her night was ruined from his visit, and her focus would be ruined for days because on top of everything else, Pietro had left with a rhetorical question. *He's gone...* She thought, still searching for his long since out of sight figure. *And no, you little bastard, it isn't what I wanted.* The rain battered down onto Crystal with a relentless fury, and she welcomed every second of the punishment.

Quicksilver ran like a madman. And indeed he was mad, but he didn't feel like a man. More like a whipped dog, or a scolded child. He hated the feeling. He hated being told 'no', hated being stopped. And tonight he had discovered all sorts of new things to hate as well, namely the burning in his chest that wasn't going away, and the storm overhead, cracking it's lightning and thunder and jokes; laughing at him, no doubt, for his foolishness, his vanity. Of all the things Pietro expected might happen tonight, this wasn't one of them. Soaking wet, aching and tired, so very tired, Pietro ran a little faster. His thoughts wandered back to his youth, when he was not yet old enough to care about the lesson, his father had explained to him something about husbands and wives. His father had said that even when husbands and wives fought and became angry with each other, certain things never changed between them. The wife still would cook and keep the home, the husband still would work and support the family. His father described it as an 'even exchange'. Each spouse had their share of work to do so that life would be easier for the family and the tribe, and whether someone was vexed or not, they always did their share. And woe be to young Pietro, his father went on to explain that one of the wife's duties was to provide sexual affections for her husband by his request at all times, no matter what.

Later in life, when Pietro was old enough to understand his father's meaning, he still didn't much care for the idea. His stomach turned at the thought of his own sister being forced by that same 'logic' to have sex with a husband she was upset with. Pietro would not hesitate to kill any man, married to his sister or not, who forced himself upon her. And Pietro vowed always to treat his own wife only in the same way he would accept his sister to be treated by another. And that meant obeying without question if she ever said 'no' or 'stop'. Truly no good deed goes unpunished, so cruel can life be. Crystal's rejection had hurt him deeply. He had only assumed that she might be lonely too. And probably she was, but apparently not for him.

*Maybe a slower lover would suit her better.* Pietro thought acidly. *A smooth talker with dashing good looks and a nice, long, clean record of complete emotional and mental stability. A social whiz of honorable ancestry, a real charming piece of Aryan arm-candy, someone to proudly flaunt at parties and balls and dinners and dances and picnics and God, how I am none of those things.* The aching in his chest was raging to a crescendo, creeping down the length of his legs, making Pietro seriously wonder if he would make it back to Genosha without sinking into the ocean.

When Quicksilver finally got back to Genosha, he was feeling much better; because there was no longer a question in his mind about his wife and the life he wishes he could have, instead of the one he's trapped in here. He would not be moving out of Genosha to go and live in a fairytale castle with his beautiful wife, wonderful child and loving family, period. He has none of those things. What he has is a decaying nation with a nearly insane dictator and a dying country people. It is work worth doing, Pietro keeps telling himself. It is a war worth fighting, just like the last one, and the last. Except this time, he has nothing left to lose. Fight on.


***Present day, 7:22am - Avengers Mansion***


Flying high and fast, Lorna Dane twisted and twirled in the brisk morning air. She loved to fly, loved the feel of the wind in her hair, and gravity at her mercy. It wasn't a necessarily easy thing to do, manipulate the earth's magnetic fields to do her bidding, but it was fun. Her attention was drawn to a blurred, zig-zagging form on the mansion's grounds far below. Lorna recognized the effect for what it was like she recognized the sun for it's light. "Pietro, Pietro... Shame on you, young man, running around like that. What would your doctors say?" Lorna watched her friend do laps and patterns around the grounds like a child drawing with crayon, her eyes barely able to keep pace with his spontaneous movements.

Eventually, Quicksilver came to rest beside the large outdoor pool, looking thoughtfully into its watery depths while he caught his breath. Lorna decided a dip might do her some good, and started flying towards her comrade. While she approached, she noticed Pietro didn't seem to be standing quite right, like maybe he was in some kind of pain... a cramp, perhaps? Lorna quickened her decent, and noticed his stance definitely falter... was he loosing his balance? Lorna sped to close the distance, not making it before Pietro keeled over and toppled headfirst into the pool. "Pietro!" Lorna screamed, cursing herself for her senseless reaction. *He can't hear you underwater, idiot.* She thought bitterly and flew straight into the pool, barely slowing down at all.

Lorna made it to the bottom first, as she had significantly more momentum than Pietro, and kicked herself towards the surface with all of her might, grabbing Pietro on her way up. Lorna offhandedly wondered what the chances were that he would have fallen into the deepest end of the pool. She hardly had to swim at all after breaking surface, they were so close to the pool's edge. Fear stabbed at Lorna as she realized that Pietro might well have hit his head on the cement when he went in. Using her own physical strength, and cheating with her prowess of magnetism, she pulled herself and Pietro out of the water, gingerly lying him down to check for injuries. "Pietro!" She shouted, putting her ear to his chest, listening for a heartbeat and feeling for a rise of breath. There were both.

Lorna took the time to thank the powers that be, and quickly examined the rest of his body for any sign of bashes or bleeding. There was none. Sighing in relief, Lorna gently straddled Pietro's still form, taking his face in her hands, "Pietro... can you hear me?" She lightly tapped his face with her palms. He stirred, mumbling something that didn't sound anything close to English. "Pietro. Wake up, it's me, Lorna. Can you look at me?" He rocked his head from side to side, scowling, no doubt, from the hardness of the ground beneath him. "What happened...?" He asked dazedly, blinking up at Lorna. She smiled and slicked back a couple locks of soaking wet hair from his brow, which had been rudely dripping water into his eyes. "You fell in the pool, Max." Lorna smiled down at him, glad that he seemed at least uninjured.

Pietro smiled weakly at the pet name she had made up for him during their time working together in Genosha. She did it as a joke on the Acolytes, who called him anything but his actual first, last or code name, insisting on Magnusson, Lensherr, or some other mockery. So Lorna had taken to calling him anything from Gonzales to Speedy, and eventually settling with Max, just to demean the Acolytes' efforts to irritate Pietro, who had long since become immune to their childish taunts. But Max had stuck with Lorna; it seemed to fit him so well, and it made him smile sometimes, which was a bonus.

Pietro made an effort to sit up, and Lorna slid off to his side, helping him readjust. She noticed that he was shaking very slightly, although the pool water had been nicely heated. "Are you okay?" She asked, searching his face for the answer that would probably be the opposite of the one he gave her verbally. "No..." He said weakly, shaking his head. Lorna was surprised by his honesty, but worried by the truth. Pietro looked at her gravely, his voice nearly conspiratorial. "It's not the same anymore, Lorna. I cannot explain how or why. It's just so different now. I... I don't like it." Lorna detected fear in his tone, and frankly she shared some of it. "Pietro... I don't understand. Tell me what you mean." Pietro shivered and ran his hands through his wet hair, frustrated. "I don't understand either..."

He looked over to the pool, and back at Lorna. "Thank you." He said. Lorna patted him on the back. "Sure thing, Max, but why can't you just go swimming like everybody else? Like during a period of consciousness and such, you know?" Pietro shrugged indifferently. "I am trying to start a new trend." Lorna rolled her eyes. "Well, I suggest you grow gills first. I might not be here the next time you pass out and blaze the trail for your future fellow synchronized sleep-swimmers." Pietro eyed her contemptuously. "Unbeliever." He spat. Lorna smacked him on the shoulder, making them both laugh at the amount water that flew from his shirt and her sleeve. Lorna stood up, offering Pietro a hand to do the same. He took it without really using it, and stood, weaving a little at first. Lorna eyed him carefully. Pietro nodded and released her hand, implying that he's okay. "Haven't been very active lately. I think I pushed myself too hard with that run." Lorna barked a laugh. "Big surprise there."

After wringing out her long green hair, Lorna gestured back towards the mansion. "Come on, Pietro. I'll walk you back to your room." He shrugged. "Suit yourself, although I am fine, you realize." They walked side by side in silence. Before opening the large sliding glass doors leading into the mansion's sunroom, Lorna sighed and tugged on Pietro's arm to stop him. "Well?" She asked him expectantly. Pietro looked at her hand on his arm, to either side of himself, and back at her face. "'Well', what?" He asked, baffled. Lorna shifted her weight. "Pietro, I realize you concussed your head recently, so I'll give you some credit here. But this is the part where you're supposed to tell me what happened back there."

Pietro huffed and crossed his arms. "Well I am not a mind-reader, Lorna. How was I supposed to know that's what you were waiting for? And why didn't you just ask me before?" Lorna kept her tone even. "I didn't ask you before because I didn't know if you were all right. But you are, so what happened?" Pietro flailed his arms, exasperated, and looked to the sky for patience. "I fell into the stupid pool! I thought we already figured that out!" Lorna truly felt like slapping the man. "I mean before that, you ditz!" Pietro opened his mouth to prove that he could yell louder than she could. "Oh." He said simply, after actually listening to what she was asking. "Well," He casually explained, "I was just looking at the water, catching my breath, and then suddenly everything felt ten feet away from me. That's all I remember until I opened my eyes and you were there, looking like a drenched rodent."

Lorna was shaking her head, listening carefully, until that last line sank in; then she clenched her jaw and shook a fist at Pietro. "I should have left you in there." She threatened, her other hand pointing to the pool. "And anyway, what the Hell do you think you look like?" Pietro scanned down his body, his t-shirt and running shorts sopping wet and clinging air-tightly to his skin in no orderly manner. "I look fine." He concluded, glancing triumphantly at Lorna, who nodded in complete disagreement. "Well what do you know anyway? You look ridiculous." Lorna planted her hands on her hips and glared. "You know, Pietro, if you couldn't outrun every living person on the planet, you wouldn't get away with being this bratty." Pietro scuffed. "Well, duh." He said, somehow making the words sound very technical. Lorna proceeded to crack up, bringing Pietro with her.


***Later That Day - The Infirmary***


"So that's it then? No migraine this time, just another blackout?"

"That's it." Pietro replied uninterestedly as he got back into his clothes.

Hank Pym made a few notes on his clipboard, stopping for a moment to tap his pen thoughtfully. "Of course, I don't have to tell you that you weren't supposed to exert yourself like that so soon." Pietro scowled dangerously as he fought his way back into his wrist braces. "Yes, Doctor, I am quite aware that you would prefer I sit on my ass and do nothing." Hank carefully did not ask Pietro if he wanted any help with his task. "However," Hank continued, "you earned points regardless for telling me the truth about what happened." Pietro snorted, rolling his eyes. "Please, Pym. I am not a child, so do not treat me like one. What happened earlier was just an accident. I shall simply be more careful from now on."

Pulling his shirt over his head, Pietro was startled to find Hank standing right in front of him when his head popped through the collar. The other man's expression was deadly serious. "A lot more careful, Pietro. I mean it." Hank clearly was not joking in the least. " Between the blackouts and the migraines you've been having, you shouldn't even be left unattended, much less allowed to run around the grounds alone like everything's fine and dandy. Did you even tell anyone where you were this morning, or did you just pull your usual disappearing act?" Pietro's face flushed slightly. He hated being talked down to. He hated it even more when it was by someone he respected. "As a matter of fact, I did." Pietro snapped. "And for the record, you are making this entire... thing out to be more of a problem than it is. Bored much lately?" Hank shook his head, refusing to subscribe to the argument Pietro was pining for. "I'm not going to fight with you, Pietro. And I'm not exaggerating, either. If Lorna hadn't been there, you would have drowned to death, end of story."

Getting bored, Pietro took a seat on the examination table again. "That's not what I meant. I was talking about the migraines and such." Hank followed his patient back to the table. "I see. Well, I don't agree with you there, either. Recurring migraines are bad enough, but blackouts can be extremely dangerous; and you're having both, so I need a really close eye on you. We've got to figure out what's causing this... I've still got a few more tests in the wings that I'd like to try, and I'm still waiting for the results of those two that I..." Pietro was shaking his absently head in a way that looked like he was thinking 'yeah, yeah'. Annoyed, Hank made a note of it, and continued.

"By the way, have you thought about that medication I mentioned?" Looking up from his nails, Pietro blinked a few times. "Actually no, I forgot about it." Hank sighed, trying not to become overly frustrated with this impetuous, arrogant, disrespectful man before him. "Well, what did Crystal have to say about it?" Looking back down to his nails, Pietro made sure to avoid any unnecessary eye contact. "Actually, Iforgotaboutthataswell." Hank took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself that he couldn't very well inform Captain America that Quicksilver was being a pain during his examination if Quicksilver was found strangled to death by Hank's own hands. "Pietro," Hank's tone was kept even with no small struggle, "you mean that you forgot to tell Crystal about the migraine medication that I told you about, right?"

Pietro hopped off the table, stretching his arms above his head. Realizing after a moment that Hank wasn't going to just forget that he never answered him, Pietro decided to bite the bullet quickly, and get out of here for something to eat. "No, I meant that I forgot to tell her about my new and exciting little problems of joy." As Pietro quipped away, Hank actually needed to steady himself with the table. "You mean Crystal still doesn't know about the migraines or anything?" Hank squeaked, incredulous. Pietro crossed his arms, looking indignant. "I said I forgot, all right? I'll tell her, just... later." Hank rubbed his eyes from behind his ever-present glasses, shaking his head as he did so. "Well, fine. It's up to you, after all. We're... all finished here, so, you can go." As a blur passed through the doors, Hank could barely distinguish the words 'thanksHankbye'. Hank sighed, popping a couple of Rolaids into his mouth. "But it won't be up to you for long, Pietro."


***Later - The Dinning Room***

After devouring one peanut butter and jelly sandwich, one bowl of cold cereal, two over-easy eggs on buttered toast with green tobasco, one turkey croissant sandwich with provolone cheese, a dish of mint chocolate-chip ice cream, sixteen ounces of freshly squeezed orange juice and a mug of hot cocoa with whipped cream and a cherry on top...
Pietro happily chewed on a braeburn apple as he read the paper. He hadn't read the paper since... well, since he had started working for Genosha. Hardly time or need to read the news when there's a war right at your front door, and another one in the back yard. Pietro set down the world news section. Nothing more written about Genosha, but he hadn't expected anything anyway. He knew the war was over, even if Lorna hadn't said as much the day after he first woke up in the infirmary weeks ago. He knew the war was over, because he was partially responsible for ending it...

He was startled to see Crystal standing in the doorway. "Hi." She said quietly, not sounding overly enthusiastic about it. "Hi." Pietro said around a hardy fraction of apple; sensible bites were something he never quite got the hang of. "Are you busy?" Crystal asked, not moving a muscle. Pietro swallowed the last of his forbidden fruit and smiled. "No. Come here." Crystal blinked, and stiffly walked over. Pietro pulled her into his lap, amounting to no small surprise on Crystal's behalf. "I think I'm going to ask Cap for a place back on the team." Pietro said casually. Crystal's jaw dropped open. "I... oh, okay. I mean, I guess that... I just assumed you were going back to Genosha..." Pietro shook his head side to side, not offering anything more. Crystal decided it best to humor his... odd mood. "Well good. I think that's really good..." Pietro nodded in a bouncy kind of way. "Well..." Crystal looked away. "Pietro, why did you leave like you did this morning?" Pietro shrugged. "I needed a run." Crystal didn't like the sound of that, but tried to hide her unease. "Oh." She said. Pietro nudged her. "Hey." He prodded. Crystal looked at him wearily. "Yeah?" Pietro grinned like a cat. Crystal scanned the table, cluttered with several empty cups, plates and bowls...*Ah, so he's food hyper.* She thought.

"Pietro, how about I go upstairs and fix you some tea a while, and maybe I can rub your shoulders and get you to take a little nap. How does that sound?" Pietro shrugged fidgety, "Okay." He agreed, a little too giddily. Crystal stood up, running her hands through his hair. "Well, come along then." Pietro hopped up and started collecting his empty dishes. "I'llcatchupwithyou." He said, vanishing into the kitchen. Crystal sighed as she left, hoping he would get rid of at least some of that energy by doing the dishes and running up the stairs, then maybe they could talk a little while before he fell asleep.

Pietro towel dried and put away the last of the dishes, just before white-hot pain seared through his brain, the painful pressure of the seizure seemingly threatening to explode his skull. He felt electric fire sizzling behind his eyes before he desperately clutched at his midsection as it twisted into kinks and knots. Pietro's head hit the counter first, which was a somewhat pleasant feeling compared to the debilitating pain that was presently raping his equilibrium to death, then his head hit the solid tile floor, which was absolute bliss, because it rendered him unconscious.

When he woke up, he was laying sprawled on his side, the cold, hard floor not as welcoming as it had seemed a moment ago. He stood up with help from the cabinet, and quickly put a dishrag under his nose, which started bleeding profusely as soon as he was upright. He stood there for several minutes, waiting out the bleeding, which eventually subsided and stopped. Pietro swiftly made his way to a bathroom, where he threw out the dishrag, washed his face and hands, and thanked God that there was no blood on his shirt or gashes in his head. Calmly, Pietro walked up the stairs, down the hall, and into his room.

He decided there could be no more stalling; he had to tell Crystal, who smiled broadly when he entered the room and handed him a cup of warm, wonderful smelling tea. She pranced over to the bed and hopped onto it, motioning for him to join her. He did, although with more care to not spill his drink, and Crystal happily began rubbing his shoulders. "Feel good?" She asked brightly. Pietro nodded and sipped at his tea. Crystal peeked over his shoulder to see his face. "Everything okay? You look a little pale..." Pietro carefully studied her lovely face. Little creases were apparent between her eyes, and her mouth had a particular crooked pout to it. He immediately recognized that she was concerned, and with good reason to be. The right thing to do would be to tell her about the migraines, and the blackouts... but Pietro wanted that smile back....

"Everything's fine, I just have a little headache is all." He lied, and kissed her cheek. "Good tea, though. I think it's helping." He said thoughtfully, finishing the last swallow. "Well, you just lie down and relax, Pietro. I'll fix you right up." Crystal grinned as he lied down, and gently massaged his temples. Pietro drifted off to sleep as Crystal softly hummed a lyrical little tune that she was adlibbing. As he slept, she stroked his hair and forehead, occasionally bending over to kiss his eyelids. *He's so lucky to be alive. Sometimes I still can't believe that he's really all right. But he is, even getting a little better every day. And now he's going to re-join the Avengers! I'm so glad he's not going back to Genosha... I'm so glad that everything's going to be all right now.* Crystal happily hummed and stroked and kissed, because after all, ignorance is bliss... isn't it?


~ End...? ~