Mirror, Mirror

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta…This is the month for computers to turn evil… InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink, Dracena, and Greywolf are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. J ProPhile: Bad news later… Morgan: *tentative stalk? * Readers/Reviewers: Thanks so much for reading/reviewing! J

“You’re going too slow!”

Tarot did not reply but rather maintained a steady pace behind Pietro, her chin up and shoulders back as if she were royalty.

“Tarot, we have ten minutes to get to the fucking bus. I can make it, can you?” He walked backwards a few paces, glaring at her. When she still did not reply, he rolled his eyes and reached for the heavy bag she insisted on carrying.

“I. Have. It.” She jerked it back out of his grasp, causing them both to stagger. The small bus station was not exactly crowded but they were drawing an unwanted amount of attention from the handful of travelers waiting for their rides. “Just go. Walk.”

He clenched his teeth together tightly and turned his back on her, marching ahead with every intention of letting her stay behind if that’s what she so desired. _Stupid bitch, _ he thought bitterly. _First she drags me out here like I’m a puppy, then she fucking changes her mind and then she fucking breaks the goddamned car. Fucking bitch… _

“I didn’t break the damned car,” her mildly accented voice came quietly to his ear, and for a horrible second he thought he had spoken his thoughts aloud. “What you said back on the interstate… I didn’t break the car. It just died. It was a sign.” She looked solemn, her eyes downcast as she struggled under the weight of the luggage, her mouth set in lines of sadness and self deprecation. “It was the thingamajig.”

Pietro counted to ten before he spoke and his words still came out angry. “The thingamajig was the radiator. The car died because *someone* who shall remain nameless decided to throw a bitch fit and threaten me!”

“I don’t see how I am responsible for it!” she snapped back, her dejected expression shifting rapidly to one of pure vitriol. “You’re the one who was driving!”

“You’re the one with the damned cards!” he shouted. He realized belatedly that they were now in the midst of what passed for a crowd there, so he grabbed her elbow and she let him drag her into a narrow passageway between the ticket office and the public restrooms. “Two words for you, Tarot: Page of Swords.”

“That’s three, moron,” she snarled, dropping the luggage with a resounding thud. “It never would have happened if you had left well enough alone!”

“I would’ve left well enough alone if you hadn’t started bitching and moaning about how you wanted to apologize to Magneto and Essex!”

“Is everything okay back here?” One of the ticket agents filled the narrow entry into the passage, arms folded across her chest and glower firmly on her features.

“Fine!” the two teenagers snapped as one. Tarot turned a hard glare on to the agent for what seemed like a very long moment until the woman shrugged and returned to her booth. Soto voce, Tarot leaned closer to Pietro and added, “You only hear what you want to hear, you idiot.”

“Call me an idiot again and I’m leaving your sorry ass here!” He grabbed the heavy duffle bag and slung it over his shoulder. “The bus for Bayville leaves in fifteen minutes. I don’t give a fuck if you’re on it or not.”

Tarot held her tongue as he stormed from the passage way, the bag scraping against the walls. She waited for a full minute and followed at a leisurely pace, pausing to get a drink from the water fountain before joining him on the almost empty bench at the far end of the station. “You,” she sighed, “are not an idiot.”

He glanced sidelong at her, his lips pursed as if in judgment. “Thank you,” he finally said, scooting a few inches closer.

“You are misguided.” She looked over at him fully, raised her brow again at his frown. “Don’t look so shocked. Everyone is, from time to time. You just do not understand what Magneto desires to do. Nor do you understand Essex.”

“I think I have Essex figured out, Tarot,” Pietro spat. Glancing around, keeping his voice low, he leaned in close and whispered, “You know he’s into experimenting on people! He asked you to help and you freaked out! I thought maybe you were human, too, but I guess not!” He leaned back, his baleful glare taking in the sudden high, red spots on her cheeks and the determined set of her jaw. “You’re not queen bee in the Brotherhood, Tarot. I think that spot is reserved for Mystique.”

“She abandoned us,” Tarot replied in a flat tone that spoke volumes more than she said herself. “She chose to leave. She is Magneto’s problem.”

“You don’t have a fucking clue, do you?” He shook his head and glanced down the line to see if their bus had arrived yet.

“Ah, young love…” A gritty voice interrupted them. Heavy hands fell on their shoulders, and they froze. “I have had an extraordinarily long day and this is just a perfect ending to it.”

Tarot’s lower lip started to quiver, her chin wrinkling in the effort it took not to cry. Pietro sat up ramrod straight, swallowing audibly before he looked up at their interloper. “Get your hands off me or I’ll scream rape.”[1]

“You are a tiresome boy,” Essex proclaimed, sitting in the space between the two teenagers. He stank of sewer water and mildew. His clothing was damp and spotted with something dark and best left unnamed while his face, though clean, was ravaged with anger and annoyance. “It seems that the Brotherhood is quite tiresome these days. Just this morning, your beloved Mystique and that beast of a man Magneto keeps around tried to rid themselves of me in the most vile way.” He smiled, his even rows of teeth menacing even in the daylight. “It was rather like that old folk tale from the south, where that rabbit fellow begs not to be thrown into the briar patch.” His grip tightened on their shoulders and his smile fell. “I would have been here sooner but I had to take care of some matters with my…companions…first. It was not that hard to find you,” he added, answering Pietro’s unasked question. “You’re not exactly subtle.” He stood, dragging Tarot and Pietro to their feet and nodding to a spot behind them. “Now we’re going to walk quietly to my waiting car and we’re going to go for a little ride back to Bayville. There’s someone I want you to meet with.”

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[1] From “Dogma,” Jay tells someone he’ll scream rape if they don’t stop touching him.