12-02-2004, 04:55 PM
Thanks a lot! Glad you liked it. Here's chapter three!
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there. It felt ridiculous, even to his childish mind. Him, sitting on his bed, crying with no sign of stopping. But he couldn't help it. The tears continued to flow, and he was powerless to stop it. He could hear the door creak as it was being slowly opened, and he turned his back to it in an attempt to hide his shame.
"Hey, Peter. Your mom and I got worried when you didn't come down for dinner. Something wrong?"
His dad stood by the doorway, unsure of whether to proceed. It wasn't a hard choice as the continous sniffs and sobs coming from his son told him that there was indeed a problem.
"N-no. I'm fine."
He tried to sound brave, tried to sound tough. But his voice was cut in and out by the sobs and tears he was unable to control, and the fact that he was powerless to do so just made him cry more.
"Hey, sport. What's wrong?"
His dad moved towards him, sitting next to him on his bed. Peter continued to shield his face from his father, afraid of being judged, afraid of being seen as a disappointemnt.
"Why are you crying?"
He didn't know why. He had tried so hard to keep his tears hidden, even after his father had discovered he was crying. Maybe it was the comfort in his fathers voice, the gentle tone that still managed to maintain a sense of strength and support. Whatever the reason, in a single moment, the child dropped all its shields, all its walls, and rushed towards his father, embracing him tightly and letting all the tears flow freely.
"I don't want you to die!"
Such a grave statement shocked Richard, and the fact that his ten year old son had been the origin of such a statement only added to that feeling. His son was bawling uncontrollably and his tears were slowly collecting onto his work suit, causing it to grow damp.
"Peter. What are you talking about? Who said we're going to die?"
Peter's gaze, which had been buried into his father's chest, looked up to meet his father's eyes.
"A kid a school. He was being mean to my friend David and I told him to stop."
Peter's tears had started to cease as he told his story, his sniffs happening less and less. But that lasted for only a few seconds as his crying soon escalated as his story came to a close.
"And he told me to shut up and said that his daddy was going to kill my mutant loving parents!"
The tears were once agian flowing freely, this time faster. Richard sat silent, holding his son and digesting what he had been told. He allowed his son to cry for a while longer before speaking.
"Shh. It's okay Peter. It's okay. Dry those tears. There's no reason to cry."
Once again, the young boy found himself fixated by the soothing voice of his father, and he did as he asked.
"We're not going anywhere Peter. Your mom and I are still very young. We have a long life to live. We're going to be around for a long time."
The cascading waterfalls that had flowed down his cheeks seconds before had now died down to a gentle stream. His breathing began to slow and a sense of calm came over the young boy ashe listened closely to his father.
"Some people, Peter, they don't understand everything, and that scares them. They see something new, something different, and they don't understand what it is. And the fact that they don't know, scares them. So they pick on your friends, and they say things that hurt, not because they're mean, but because they're scared."
This new revelation that had been brought to Peter amazed him. He always thought that Jacob bullied kids because he was a mean person, not because he was scared. Richard saw the look in his son's eyes and smiled. He looked over at his right pocket and stuck his hand in, searching for something. Peter watched as his dad pulled out his rosary and handed it to him.
"Here Peter, I want you to have this. My dad gave this to me on my Confirmation. It was his rosary. I was going to wait until you were older, but I think now's a good time for you to take it."
Peter held the rosary delecately in his hands, afraid he'd damage the precious gift.
"Whenever I have a bad day, or something bad happens to me, I take out that rosary, and I pray. And when I pray, I know that God has heard my prayers, and that he's watching over me. And that knowledge makes my day better and makes all the bad things go away."
He paused and smiled at his son who was growing up right before his eyes.
"So, when you have a bad day, just pull out that rosary, and pray, and God will help you through it."
A childish smile formed on the soaked face of his son, one which in turn caused Richard to smile back.
"Now, come on. Your mom's got dinner ready and we don't want it to get cold. She made your favorite, spinach and brocoli!"
"Eew! Dad!!"
The two laughed at Richards joke and followed the delightful scent of food downstairs.
His nose twitched at its scent. He sniffed, trying to identify that familiar smell. But the importance in finding such an answer faded as new questions arose. He tried to recall what had happened. He remembered fighting, in the city. Sentinels. He was attacked. His eyes tensed and then slowly opened. The dark shroud that consumed his sight slowly melted away. Blurs of light formed before him, shapes indistinguishable started to appear. He tried to focus, tried see what was before him and watched as the different shapes molded into one large white square, with a circle in the center that was projecting light. He had seen it before, but where? He paused for a moment and then realization struck him. He was in the infirmary. He was staring at the ceiling in the infirmary.
"You're awake!"
He turned to see the owner of the voice rushing towards him. She dove at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his side. His ribs surged with pain causing him to bolt upwards and let out his own scream.
"Oh! I'm sorry! I was just so happy to see you again that I..."
The voice continued to go, but he ignored it for the moment as he tried to focus on who was talking. He could tell it was a woman from her voice and could vaguely make out a green silouhette around her body. The blur began to fade as he slowly started to recognize the young woman before him, wearing her usual green hoody and bearing the familiar white strand of hair that was now dangling across her face.
"Marie."
She smiled that smile that always seemed to be plastered across her face.
"So you do remember me? We were so worried when we found you."
Peter quickly glanced around at his surroundings. He was sitting in one of the infirmary beds. The white walls were now tainted with blotches a yellow and in some areas the walls were peeling away. The other beds were empty, always a good sign. He glanced down at himself. His shirt was removed, revealing his scarred body with bandages that wrapped around him tightly. His mask was gone as well, though it and his shirt were both repaired and lying next to the bowl of hot soup that he had smelt earlier. But what surprised him was the fact that his wounds from the battle were healed. Aside from being stiff and soar he was fine.
"How did I get here?"
Marie's tone sullened a bit as she began to tell her story to her webslinging friend.
"You've been gone for so long, we didn't know where you were. We kept looking for you, but there was no sign of you. Then last night Firestar was doing her routinely rounds, looking for other mutants and making sure we were safe. She spotted you fighting those Sentinels. She said you were hurt pretty bad but managed to take two of them out."
A hint of awe could be heard in Rogue's voice. She looked at her arachnid friend with pride but quickly continued.
"She got their just in time to destroy the third one before it could fire."
Peter let his thoughts ponder this. He thought the explosion had come from the Sentinel's blast. He thought he had died, but it must have been Firestar destroying it before it got its shot off. He turned his attention back to Rogue.
"But that still doesn't explain how I'm suddenly scratch free from that fight. I should be dead."
Marie's face sullened and Peter instantly regretted saying those words. It was obvious from the pain on her face that she had been very worried.
"Yeah...I know. But luckily, we have Vision. He's gotten pretty good at his healing techniques. That and coupled with your own healing factor was enough to save you and bring you back to full health."
Peter just nodded upon hearing this. He had dodged another bullet, barely. So many of his loved ones had died, and yet, he had managed to scrape by all this time. Time. Peter's eyes widened and looked at Marie, his voice harboring a great sense of urgency.
"Marie...how long have I been gone?"
She didn't answer. Her head lowered, hiding her eyes from his gaze. Something was wrong.
"Peter...there's something you should know..."
Her voice sounded so grave, so onimous. Something had happened while he was away, something bad.
"Peter..."
"Peter!"
His head darted upwards as a bold voice interupted that of Rogue's. Panther was standing behind her, fully clad in his costume, save for his mask which was tucked away in his belt. He wished it wasn't, for the look on Panther's face was not one of welcoming and joy. No, it was quite the opposite.
"We need to talk."
He didn't know how long he had been sitting there. It felt ridiculous, even to his childish mind. Him, sitting on his bed, crying with no sign of stopping. But he couldn't help it. The tears continued to flow, and he was powerless to stop it. He could hear the door creak as it was being slowly opened, and he turned his back to it in an attempt to hide his shame.
"Hey, Peter. Your mom and I got worried when you didn't come down for dinner. Something wrong?"
His dad stood by the doorway, unsure of whether to proceed. It wasn't a hard choice as the continous sniffs and sobs coming from his son told him that there was indeed a problem.
"N-no. I'm fine."
He tried to sound brave, tried to sound tough. But his voice was cut in and out by the sobs and tears he was unable to control, and the fact that he was powerless to do so just made him cry more.
"Hey, sport. What's wrong?"
His dad moved towards him, sitting next to him on his bed. Peter continued to shield his face from his father, afraid of being judged, afraid of being seen as a disappointemnt.
"Why are you crying?"
He didn't know why. He had tried so hard to keep his tears hidden, even after his father had discovered he was crying. Maybe it was the comfort in his fathers voice, the gentle tone that still managed to maintain a sense of strength and support. Whatever the reason, in a single moment, the child dropped all its shields, all its walls, and rushed towards his father, embracing him tightly and letting all the tears flow freely.
"I don't want you to die!"
Such a grave statement shocked Richard, and the fact that his ten year old son had been the origin of such a statement only added to that feeling. His son was bawling uncontrollably and his tears were slowly collecting onto his work suit, causing it to grow damp.
"Peter. What are you talking about? Who said we're going to die?"
Peter's gaze, which had been buried into his father's chest, looked up to meet his father's eyes.
"A kid a school. He was being mean to my friend David and I told him to stop."
Peter's tears had started to cease as he told his story, his sniffs happening less and less. But that lasted for only a few seconds as his crying soon escalated as his story came to a close.
"And he told me to shut up and said that his daddy was going to kill my mutant loving parents!"
The tears were once agian flowing freely, this time faster. Richard sat silent, holding his son and digesting what he had been told. He allowed his son to cry for a while longer before speaking.
"Shh. It's okay Peter. It's okay. Dry those tears. There's no reason to cry."
Once again, the young boy found himself fixated by the soothing voice of his father, and he did as he asked.
"We're not going anywhere Peter. Your mom and I are still very young. We have a long life to live. We're going to be around for a long time."
The cascading waterfalls that had flowed down his cheeks seconds before had now died down to a gentle stream. His breathing began to slow and a sense of calm came over the young boy ashe listened closely to his father.
"Some people, Peter, they don't understand everything, and that scares them. They see something new, something different, and they don't understand what it is. And the fact that they don't know, scares them. So they pick on your friends, and they say things that hurt, not because they're mean, but because they're scared."
This new revelation that had been brought to Peter amazed him. He always thought that Jacob bullied kids because he was a mean person, not because he was scared. Richard saw the look in his son's eyes and smiled. He looked over at his right pocket and stuck his hand in, searching for something. Peter watched as his dad pulled out his rosary and handed it to him.
"Here Peter, I want you to have this. My dad gave this to me on my Confirmation. It was his rosary. I was going to wait until you were older, but I think now's a good time for you to take it."
Peter held the rosary delecately in his hands, afraid he'd damage the precious gift.
"Whenever I have a bad day, or something bad happens to me, I take out that rosary, and I pray. And when I pray, I know that God has heard my prayers, and that he's watching over me. And that knowledge makes my day better and makes all the bad things go away."
He paused and smiled at his son who was growing up right before his eyes.
"So, when you have a bad day, just pull out that rosary, and pray, and God will help you through it."
A childish smile formed on the soaked face of his son, one which in turn caused Richard to smile back.
"Now, come on. Your mom's got dinner ready and we don't want it to get cold. She made your favorite, spinach and brocoli!"
"Eew! Dad!!"
The two laughed at Richards joke and followed the delightful scent of food downstairs.
His nose twitched at its scent. He sniffed, trying to identify that familiar smell. But the importance in finding such an answer faded as new questions arose. He tried to recall what had happened. He remembered fighting, in the city. Sentinels. He was attacked. His eyes tensed and then slowly opened. The dark shroud that consumed his sight slowly melted away. Blurs of light formed before him, shapes indistinguishable started to appear. He tried to focus, tried see what was before him and watched as the different shapes molded into one large white square, with a circle in the center that was projecting light. He had seen it before, but where? He paused for a moment and then realization struck him. He was in the infirmary. He was staring at the ceiling in the infirmary.
"You're awake!"
He turned to see the owner of the voice rushing towards him. She dove at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his side. His ribs surged with pain causing him to bolt upwards and let out his own scream.
"Oh! I'm sorry! I was just so happy to see you again that I..."
The voice continued to go, but he ignored it for the moment as he tried to focus on who was talking. He could tell it was a woman from her voice and could vaguely make out a green silouhette around her body. The blur began to fade as he slowly started to recognize the young woman before him, wearing her usual green hoody and bearing the familiar white strand of hair that was now dangling across her face.
"Marie."
She smiled that smile that always seemed to be plastered across her face.
"So you do remember me? We were so worried when we found you."
Peter quickly glanced around at his surroundings. He was sitting in one of the infirmary beds. The white walls were now tainted with blotches a yellow and in some areas the walls were peeling away. The other beds were empty, always a good sign. He glanced down at himself. His shirt was removed, revealing his scarred body with bandages that wrapped around him tightly. His mask was gone as well, though it and his shirt were both repaired and lying next to the bowl of hot soup that he had smelt earlier. But what surprised him was the fact that his wounds from the battle were healed. Aside from being stiff and soar he was fine.
"How did I get here?"
Marie's tone sullened a bit as she began to tell her story to her webslinging friend.
"You've been gone for so long, we didn't know where you were. We kept looking for you, but there was no sign of you. Then last night Firestar was doing her routinely rounds, looking for other mutants and making sure we were safe. She spotted you fighting those Sentinels. She said you were hurt pretty bad but managed to take two of them out."
A hint of awe could be heard in Rogue's voice. She looked at her arachnid friend with pride but quickly continued.
"She got their just in time to destroy the third one before it could fire."
Peter let his thoughts ponder this. He thought the explosion had come from the Sentinel's blast. He thought he had died, but it must have been Firestar destroying it before it got its shot off. He turned his attention back to Rogue.
"But that still doesn't explain how I'm suddenly scratch free from that fight. I should be dead."
Marie's face sullened and Peter instantly regretted saying those words. It was obvious from the pain on her face that she had been very worried.
"Yeah...I know. But luckily, we have Vision. He's gotten pretty good at his healing techniques. That and coupled with your own healing factor was enough to save you and bring you back to full health."
Peter just nodded upon hearing this. He had dodged another bullet, barely. So many of his loved ones had died, and yet, he had managed to scrape by all this time. Time. Peter's eyes widened and looked at Marie, his voice harboring a great sense of urgency.
"Marie...how long have I been gone?"
She didn't answer. Her head lowered, hiding her eyes from his gaze. Something was wrong.
"Peter...there's something you should know..."
Her voice sounded so grave, so onimous. Something had happened while he was away, something bad.
"Peter..."
"Peter!"
His head darted upwards as a bold voice interupted that of Rogue's. Panther was standing behind her, fully clad in his costume, save for his mask which was tucked away in his belt. He wished it wasn't, for the look on Panther's face was not one of welcoming and joy. No, it was quite the opposite.
"We need to talk."