Fractals

Fractals Chapter Fifty Nine (NC-17)
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST WOMAN ALIVE ™, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta… *GLOMP* Because I can. ;) InterNutter, TC, Maxwell Pink and Dracena are loverly and wondermous for archiving/hosting. :) ProPhile: Go study. Morgan: And it’ll have a shiny red bow… Readers/Reviewers: My apologies for the updates being skippy the past few days. I’ve had things going on that cut into writing time. :( I feel like I’ve been neglecting you. *skulk*

Pietro stared at Tarot as she slept, seemingly as innocent as a baby. Her red hair splayed out around her head like a halo and her pink lips were parted in somnolence, but he could not help but see the strong current of self promoting power mad energy that ran through her. She still had not explained her sudden lustful attack early that morning nor did he really expect her to after her first refusal. He had been too panicked over the sudden influx of mutants, mostly under false arrest, into the house to do much more than plan out what he was going to say to the federal authorities once they became involved. “Really, officer, I don’t know any of these people,” probably would not work, he reflected, mouthing the words silently. Tarot shifted in her sleep but did not wake up. Pietro eased from his reverie and slid from bed. He had not been able to rest at all, despite Magneto fairly ordering him to nap as if he were a child. The floor was cold between the thick carpets so he skipped across them like a dragonfly on lily pads, making it to the door much quicker than he had as a younger person.

His old bedroom was the same as he remembered, which had alternately creeped him out and comforted him. Tarot had been highly amused by his collection of action figures (“dolls,” she insisted, calling him Patty instead of Pietro until he threatened her with sleeping alone) and the odd assortment of games and videos left just as he had put them as a child, before he had to move away. Across the hall was Wanda’s room. He stood on the Oriental rug lining the corridor and stared at the old, scarred door. The house was older than either of them had known, he remembered. He remembered hiding under the window seat in the downstairs hall, making up stories about the families that had lived there before; they had all had a loving mother who made cookies and told stories about princesses and knights, a father who never thought old men were more important than playing with his children, and a passel of siblings, all cheerful and fun and funny… Pietro shook his head. “Easier to be a kid when you don’t have reality to deal with, he muttered to himself and the ghost on his shoulder. He raked his fingers through his normally neat hair and sighed. He was not sure of the time but he knew today would be a big day, whether for good or bad, and nervousness made him hungry. He turned to head towards the old servants’ staircase to go to the kitchen when muted, angry voices made him stop. Wanda’s room, he thought. The voices were definitely female but other than that, he could not make out details. Hesitantly, he padded to the door and laid his hand on the knob.

“You can’t just hide him under the bed,” Tabby snapped. “He’s not slippers!”
Wanda stood and hissed in anger. “I’m not carting his ass all over this place! We got caught once already. Twice and I don’t want to think what that nutjob will do!”
Kurt sighed, his body shaking from lack of nutrients and sheer nervous energy. “I’m right here… you can talk directly to me, you know.”
Tabby patted his shoulder distractedly in an almost maternal fashion before turning back to Wanda. “Look, I don’t fucking want to be here either, okay? You shoulda let me just blast the hell out of him!”
“He’s my fath…” Wanda closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “No.”
All three sets of eyes snapped to the door as it swung open, swooshing softly across the wooden floor. Pietro stared at them all owlishly. “Wanda…”
“Pie-Pie,” she smiled and Tabby swore she saw fangs. “How sweet of you to come.” She lunged for him, catching him off guard, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into the room, not letting the door shut all the way by virtue of her toes stick between it and the jamb. “You have five minutes to get us out of here unseen, got it?”
Pietro jerked free savagely. “See you’re still a bitch.” He sniffed haughtily and stood to his full height. “If you’re in here, you’re in here for a reason…” He winced inwardly as he saw the collars on all three necks. He might not like them all, he sighed inwardly, but those collars were disgusting. Magneto had made him wear one once, to show him what he would be using, and he had felt impotent, weak… He had cried afterwards in the privacy of the bathroom.
Tabby did not even attempt to smile. Her feelings about Pietro were homicidal at best, creatively homicidal at worst. “You cocksucking son of a whore,” she spat, staring forward. Kurt grabbed her ankle to keep her still, glaring up at Pietro the whole time. “Let me go!”
“You’re making it worse,” Kurt muttered, still glaring. “Calm yourself.”
“Listen to the blue rat,” Pietro snarled. Returning his attention to Wanda, he raised a brow. She was still the scared girl he remembered, but this time more lethal. Seeing her in the old pink bedroom, seeing her standing where she once wept for him to help her, made his stomach lurch. “Come on. All three of you.”
Kurt rose slowly, creakily to his feet. “Nein, not until you tell us where you’re taking us.” He edged in front of the two women, baring his fangs slightly.
Pietro rolled his eyes. “One day, your mouth is going to get you killed. Either come with me or stay here, I don’t care.” He turned and started back down the hall, not looking back. Tabby sighed and glanced at Wanda, following him without a word.
“Well, Hell…” Wanda yanked Kurt by the arm. “We already know what he did to her once. I’ll be damned if he does it again.”