The room was dark and not one tiny beam of light came through the windows. Maybe the thick curtains shielded it out or maybe it was very late at night, she didn't know. All she knew was that her brother was dead. The tape ended and Illyana Rasputin hit the rewind button on the VCR remote.
"I can't believe it," she whispered. "Piotr." Tears ran down her face. Her normally bright blue eyes were red-rimmed and had bags under them. Strands of her now tangled blond hair stuck to her face but she didn't have the strength to brush them away. As she started the tape over again from the beginning, she reached one shaking, deathly pale hand out and barely breathed out the word, "Piotr."
The girl bit her lip, hard, and closed her burning eyes for just a moment. More tears slipped out to make their way down her thin, sharp face. She was no longer sure of how long she had been here, in this room, watching this tape over and over again. For all she knew it could have been hours, or days, or even months. No way of knowing anymore. She didn't really care either. Nothing mattered now. Nothing.
"Piotr," she murmured as she opened her eyes and they focused on the man on the television screen. He stood there, among his teammates, in his metal form gleaming like a knight out of some Arthurian legend. But all legends eventually die and not even he could escape that fact.
Piotr Rasputin had been a good man and brother. Cajoled away from his homeland of Russia by Professor Charles Xavier he had joined the X-Men where his mutant gift could be put to good use. Many times over the years he, and the other X-Men, had saved the world. But Piotr had also saved Illyana, his baby sister, on many occasions, too.
Now he was gone. He had sacrificed his life, along with the other X-Men, to close a portal that would keep the Adversary locked up forever. Once again he had selflessly given of himself to save the world. But had he thought about what it would mean to Illyana if he left? No. He never thought about the effect his actions would place on one person. After all, Piotr had been a hero.
Illyana was not a hero. True that she and her teammates in the New Mutants had saved the world, and the X-Men themselves, a few times but she was no hero. If she had been a hero then she wouldn't be crying right now. If her heart was as strong and selfless as her brother's then she wouldn't be wishing the extinction of the human race just to have him back. No, Illyana was not a hero and, at this rate, she was pretty sure that she would never be one.
As the images flickered across the screen, bathing her small, hunched-over form in the pale light of the television, she began blaming herself. If not for her Piotr wouldn't have been there. He had asked her to teleport him there so that he could stand by his teammates and help them. And she had done as he asked without a second thought. She had let him go. It was her fault that he had been there.
"I couldn't...I couldn't help him. I couldn't reach him," she sobbed quietly as she remembered the panic that had built inside her when she realized that no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't going to be able to `port back into Dallas. Something had been blocking her out. A spell that even the Darkchilde and her Soulsword couldn't smash through. As if fate had stepped in to say, "No. This is the way things have to happen." In her sixteen years of life, Illyana had learned to hate fate very much.
It had been fate that had taken Piotr from her in the first place. Fate had led him off to America to become an outlaw instead of a shinning son of the collective. And, scant years later, it was fate that had lead her to the stepping disc on Belasco's Caribbean Island, which they thought belonged to Magneto. A stepping disc that threw her into the realm of a demon who turned her into the Darkchilde and showed her the true meaning of evil. Limbo had cost her seven years of childhood. It had shattered her life but at least all the pieces had been there to pick up when she got back.
Now, with one single act, fate had completely shattered her life again. But this time some of the pieces were missing. Pieces that could never be replaced no matter how hard she looked. As she started to weep anew, she was certain that the piece she would miss the most would be her heart and soul.
Roberto DaCosta couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his dark brown eyes he was tortured by nightmares of Douglas Ramsey's death. Over and over again in the dark of sleepless night, he heard the shot and saw Doug's body crumple to the ground out of the corner of his eye.
Doug. Why Doug? Doug had never done anything to anyone. Of all of the New Mutants his power had been the least needed or valuable in the battle field. All he had on his side was the ability to understand languages. A power that didn't save him, couldn't save him. And when it came down to being a mutant, to openly being a mutant, you didn't want a power like that. If you had a power like that you would be lucky to survive your first mission.
Roberto buried his hands in the thick chocolate curls on his head and stared up at the ceiling. There was no way he was going to be able to get any sleep tonight and he knew it. Too much weight was on his conscience and too much blood was on his hands.
Doug had been a hero. He had saved Rahne's life by taking the bullet that had been meant for her. For someone who complained so much about his stupid, useless power and the fact that he felt outleagued by everyone else in the New Mutants, Doug had done what the rest of them never had. Without a single thought of self preservation, he had jumped to save a teammate. He had become a hero.
Tears filled Roberto's eyes as he realized that he could never be a hero. Never. Yes, it was true that he and the other New Mutants had saved the world, even the X-Men, a couple of times. It was also true that he just wasn't cut out to be a hero.
When push came to shove he wasn't sure, deep down in his heart he just wasn't sure that, if places he been reversed, he would have taken a bullet save a friend's life. And that one doubt, that hesitation meant that he was not, and never would be, a true hero.
The young man growled slightly in the back of his throat and threw the covers off to sit on the edge of his bed, staring helplessly at the floor. A single tear dripped off his nose and unto the carpet. It had been his fault.
It had been his fault that Doug died. It had been his fault because he had coerced Warlock into joining the Fallen Angels with him. Why had he done that? Roberto knew that the only way Doug was ever really protected during a battle was when Warlock was with him. They were the best of friends, Doug and Warlock, and it showed in the way they interacted and protected each other.
Only Roberto had selfishly taken away Doug's protection and for what? For a little rebellion from the New Mutants. For a day in the life of something else. And now, because of his stupid mistake, Doug was dead. Dead. Dead was forever and ever. He would never see Doug again.
"Another one. I just lost another one," he muttered as he stood up and wrapped a blue terry cloth robe around himself. First Julianna and now Doug. Being a mutant was not fun and games, it was pain and hardship. Too much pain and hardship. He hated to admit it but some times he just wanted to run away from this life. He wanted to go back to Brazil and be a rich spoiled brat because at least that was safe.
He sighed and viciously rubbed his forehead as he stepped out the door to his room and into the hallway. It was dark. Dark as night, dark as obsidian. Not that it mattered much to Roberto. He wasn't scared of the dark, he was afraid of the nightmares that would come to meet him in his dreams. With one last heart felt sigh, he trudged down the stairs, intent on getting a drink of water from the kitchen.
Once again the tape ended and the television screen before Illyana's eyes became full of static. She still held the remote in her shaking hand, puzzling over whether she wanted to rewind the tape and watch again or just, finally, start letting go.
As her blue eyes fluttered closed from the pain and sorrow, her finger hit the rewind button. She wasn't ready to let go yet. Not yet. It was too soon. Too soon to admit that her life really was over and she had to start over again from scratch.
Before she had been content to weep silently, letting the tears cascade down her red, puffy face. Now, as she saw Piotr's face again, whole and shining like the purest metal, she let go of her control and allowed herself to sob loud, heart breaking, gut wrenching sobs. There was no one to hear her now, no one to see her tears. It was safe to just let it all out. It was safe to be sad and afraid.
Roberto was just opening the kitchen door when he heard sobs coming from the rec room. Considering how late it was, almost three in the morning, he wasn't sure who could be in there sobbing their heart out like that. Slowly, he turned around and walked towards the door to the rec room. The door came open with a gentle push and Roberto's heart almost shattered as he saw the weeping form of Illyana Rasputin bathed in the televison's soft, fluorescent glow.
His eyes travelled from the forlorn figure on the chair to the screen itself. The X-Man Colossus stared back at him. God, oh God, she was still torturing herself by watching the videos of the X-Men's last fight in Dallas. God, oh God, she was killing herself with her grief.
A sharp pain tore at his heart as he remembered that Illyana had lost almost everything. Doug, her brother and the other X-Men were dead and even her best friend Kitty Pryde was injured and far, far away. She was alone in this house and alone in her pain. A pain so great that it was threatening to consume her any minute.
He couldn't just leave her like that. There was no way he could just walk away and leave her here with her heart broken and her spirit crushed. And to think, he thought he was having a hard time dealing with things.
"Illyana," Roberto spoke, his tone soft and gentle. She didn't turn or make any indication that she had heard him. Not a good sign.
"Illyana," he said louder and more insistently this time. Still there was no response from the weeping girl.
For a moment he studied her. She had grown pale and thin from worry and grief. The blue eyes were tired and no life danced behind them. Limp, tangled blond hair stuck to her face and draped itself wearily on the chair as if it too had given up the will to go on. How long had she been here like this? Why hadn't someone come to console her sooner?
With all the strength he could muster, Roberto walked over to stand behind the chair. She was right there. Right in front of him sobbing like a small, lost child. The pain radiating off her was almost too much to bear.
Very gently, he lay a hand on her head and whispered, "Illyana, it's okay."
Illyana stopped weeping for a moment. Someone, something, had touched her and told her it was okay. Someone had cared enough to try and make her pain go away. The tears continued to stream down her pale, thin face as she turned to see who dared to interrupt her sorrow.
"Roberto?" she murmured in shock and amazement.
He was there, standing behind her. The large, dark brown eyes were looking at her with sympathy and understanding. It was obvious that her pain was causing the unshed tears that kept creeping into the corners of his eyes.
Then Illyana shook her head violently. Now she was delirious. Roberto hated her. He would never stand there with such sadness in her eyes. He wouldn't care.
She spoke again, her voice shaking from the sobs that threatened to consume her once again, "Go away, nether demon. Leave me in peace. I don't wish to be haunted by phantoms."
As the blue, tear filled, eyes turned away from his face, Roberto felt something cold clap onto his heart. She thought he was an illusion caused by her lack of sleep and food. There had to be some way to get through to her and convince her that he was feel and that he cared.
To say that he cared about Illyana was such a funny thing. He had always thought he hated her. She was dark and troublesome and secretive but, at the same time, beautiful and mysterious. As much as he tried to convince himself that he hated her, he knew he didn't. Nothing could make him hate her. Nothing. He had seen her like this, so human that it made him hurt, too many times to deny the fact that she had a heart and a soul no matter how buried she kept them.
Something drew his attention to the screen and Roberto watched as Colossus and the other X-Men walked into Forge's portal.
"No! Piotr!" he heard Illyana cry out and then she dropped the VCR remote unto the floor and shook once again with sobs.
He stooped down and picked up the remote. Maybe this will work, he thought as he turned the tape off.
She heard the click as the tape stopped. With great hesitation, she lifted her eyes to stare at the screen. It was gone. The picture was gone. Piotr was gone.
Her hands began to shake as she rapidly scanned the floor for the remote. It was hard to see in the near dark of the room. The television no longer cast out a bright, fluorescent glow. Now there was only a dim flickering.
"Bring him back. Please, I want him back," she pleaded with the dark shadows that grew around her. "It's not fair to take everything from me!" she screamed with rage and sorrow combined. "I'll go. Trade my life for his. Please, let me. I don't have anything to live for anymore. I'm already dead inside. Please, take me. Please." Then her words were lost in the sobs that claimed her again. Now she had nothing. Now she was empty.
As he watched her panicked form crying and screaming and scanning the room searching, hoping to find the remote, he felt tears slip down his face. God, help me to be strong, he thought. Once again he set a hand on her head. "Shhh, Illyana. Everything'll be fine." But as he said the words his heart stilled. What right did he have to fill her with false hopes? Everything might not be fine. It could get worse.
No, something in his head whispered. Right now, she needs the lies. If you don't calm her down and get her to let go, she's going to kill herself with her sorrow. Then, you'll have lost yet another person that you love.
Love.
The word hit him hard like a metal beam across his right temple. Almost enough to knock him down or to make him turn and run, confused and shrieking, from the room. But he couldn't deny it. He couldn't say that love was the wrong word to use about his feelings for this girl.
Now he was shaking with fear as he took his dark hand off her head and walked in front of her. He knelt on the ground before the chair she was in and he just watched her. Her blue eyes were still scanning the room. They didn't even seem to notice him.
"Illyana," he prodded. One of his hands rose to touch her face.
And it was then, as his hand gently came in contact with her face, that Illyana Rasputin's eyes stopped searching for solace in the shadows of the rec room and turned to him instead. They were blue and bright with the tears that had not yet been shed. Roberto found himself lost in those eyes, lost in her pain, but he had to be strong now. He had to be strong if he wanted to save her.
"There we go," he whispered. "Hello Illyana. It's Roberto. You alright?" It was a feeble expression of comfort but he needed to make sure that she realized he wasn't a dream.
The words floated to Illyana's ears. Words that held a small comfort for her but the promise of greater comfort lay behind them. Roberto was here and he did care and he wanted to help.
The hand was still on her face. His gentle, dark skinned fingers brushing away her tears and telling her that things would get better someday. And right now, all she had to do was hang on and be strong. Just be strong for a little while longer until she was ready to let go.
"Bobby?" she inquired. "It's really you?"
He nodded, never once letting his eyes wander from hers. "Yeah, it's really me. What's wrong?"
"They're dead."
"Who?"
"Piotr and Doug and the rest of the X-Men. They're dead," she exclaimed and tears started to flow down her cheeks again.
With his hand he brushed the tears away. "I'm sure they're in a better place."
"There is no better place," she whimpered. "There's life and there's Limbo. That's all. Go away. I want Piotr. I want him back," Illyana demanded and pulled herself away from Roberto.
His hand fell away from her wet face as she pulled away, farther into her pain and into the chair. Her tears had made his hand wet.
As he watched the girl close her eyes and start talking softly to herself, anger began to build up from his stomach. Anger flashed behind his eyes and pulled at his mouth to speak. To yell at her with words that would sting her and hurt her. Words that might drive her over the edge into pure insanity. He wanted to scream at her and shake her.
Instead he reached up and pulled her down onto the floor. It didn't take much effort. She was so light and not in near good enough mind to resist.
"Let go." Her whispers fell lightly into his ears even as he wrapped his arms around her and started to stroke her hair.
"I want to help, Illyana. Let me help," Roberto pleaded as he held her. She seemed so small in his arms and limp, like a rag doll. So small and fragile. But the Illyana he had always known wasn't like this. She wasn't small and vulnerable and frightened. And this change in her scared him as much as it pleased him that she was human.
"I don't need your help." But she fought to get the words out through her tears. "I don't need any help. Let me go." Despite her pleas and cries for freedom she did not fight. There wasn't enough strength to fight his embrace. She had exhausted herself days ago and now there was nothing left.
"You're going to kill yourself if you keep going like this."
"Good. Then I'd be with Piotr again. I'm already dead inside, Bobby. It would be better this way."
He shook his head as he stroked her hair. "No. No, I'm not going to let you kill yourself."
Now she finally pushed away. She managed to push herself out of his arms and leaned against the chair. Her blue eyes drilled into him with quiet rage. "Why should you care if I live or die, Bobby. You hate me."
Those words hurt. Roberto could feel his heart ache and twist with those words. With great effort he opened his mouth and insisted, "I don't hate you, Illyana. I care for you. I care for you a lot. I...I could never hate you."
Illyana looked into those deep brown eyes. She felt like she was drowning in them. All her rage seemed to just slide away and leave her empty inside. There was nothing in her anymore. No reason to go on or fight with the reaper. Instead of letting go of Piotr she wanted to let go of her life.
But as she looked into Roberto's eyes and saw the pain and fear and compassion in their depths, something snapped. The pieces of her life that had been gone came back so suddenly that she drew in a sharp intake of air. A loud gasp that made Bobby's eyes widen in worry.
This was it. She had finally let go of her brother and he had given her back her heart and soul. The tears flowed down her face again but now she could at least comprehend that the tears wouldn't be there forever and the hole in her heart was closing.
With a sigh and a small sob, she threw herself into Roberto's arms. His arms wrapped around her and one hand stroked her hair. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried. Just cried as she realized that once she had let Piotr go, she could never get him back.
Roberto held her as she cried and he knew. She had finally let go of the grief and heart ache. Somewhere, in her heart or soul, she had found the key that unlocked the steel gates around her emotions. Now she was free to feel again.
"Bobby," he heard her whisper and looked down at her tear streaked face. The tears no longer streamed but every once in a while a few would slip down her thin face.
"Yes, Illyana?"
"I let him go. I let them all go. And...Bobby, they gave me my heart back and my soul. I feel. I feel for the first time in so long. I really feel," she confided in him as a wistful smile spread across her face.
"That's good."
"Thank you, Bobby."
"For what, Illyana. I didn't do anything," he demanded as the older girl leaned closer into his embrace.
"Yes, you did. Bobby, you saved me. If not for you I would have just died from sorrow." There was a light in her blue eyes again. A spark of life and happiness and hope.
Illyana stared up at him as she snuggled into his embrace. He was so sweet sometimes. And he really did care about her. It had been his words, his compassion, that had saved her.
For when she looked into his eyes, she saw everything. She saw how afraid he was of losing someone else he loved. Loved. Yes, she had seen burning painful love in his eyes.
And it was nice to know that he returned her love for him.
"Bobby," she started.
"Go on, Illyana. What?"
"I...," she took a deep breath. It wasn't like her to be afraid. Then she changed her mind. "Why did you come down here tonight? What were you doing?"
Now it was his turn to still as silence washed over them. His hand stopped stroking her hair and he just held her as he became still and silent.
"Bobby?" Illyana inquired gently.
He had turned his eyes away from her. Now she reached her hand up and turned his face toward her. Tears ran down his dark skin from his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Illyana," he stated. "I wanted to be strong for your sake but...I'm sorry."
Even though she didn't want to leave his embrace, Illyana pulled out from his arms. It was a test. He let her go with no resistance at all. Something was wrong.
Sparks of fire were consuming her soul as she watched him quietly suffering. He hadn't let her suffer and she wasn't about to let him go through this pain alone. One of her hands brushed the tangle of dark curls on his head. "What's wrong, Bobby?"
"It's nothing. I...I don't want to talk about it."
Illyana drew her lips into a thin line and took her hand away. Anger was racing like a lightning bolt through her confused mind. Why was he closing up all of a sudden? Wasn't she known as the great untouchable one here?
Roberto glanced at her through his tear filled brown eyes. The vision was blurry but he could still see her. Sitting there, looking at the floor, her mouth drawn into a tight little line and her forehead creased from frustration.
The words she spoke were shaky and sounded weak. "Bobby, don't do this. I let you in, let me in."
The pain of losing her after saving her swept over him and caused him to choke on his own held back sobs. She was so close, so close, and if he didn't let her in then she might disappear into Limbo forever, never to return. And then what would he do?
"I'm sorry, Illyana. Really, I am," he said and meant the words. Truly meant the words. They came from his heart and he hoped that Illyana saw that.
The next thing he knew, Illyana had wrapped him in her arms. Holding and comforting him as he had her just scant minutes ago. "Shhh, it's okay. Now, just tell me what happened."
"I was coming down to the kitchen to get a drink of water when I heard you crying. Well, I heard someone crying. I didn't know that it was you, not until I looked in here."
"Why were you awake at this hour?" Illyana's voice was remarkably gentle and soft.
"I kept having nightmares," Roberto slowly admitted and then shuttered in her tight embrace.
Then her hands was stroking his hair again, the fingers twining themselves around the errant curls as she whispered soothing wordless mutters. "What were these nightmares about?"
Finally, Roberto gave into a sob. "Doug," he choked out. "I kept having nightmares. Over and over. The same one. Every time. Doug jumping out in front of that gun and then BLAM! And I could his body drop to the ground out of the corner of my eye but I couldn't do anything. I couldn't save him, Illyana. It was all my fault. The whole thing was my fault!"
Illyana tightened her grip on him as Roberto started to sob. In her soul something began to break. Like candy glass it shattered as she felt Bobby's pain become her own. But she had to be strong right now. She had to have to strength that she fled from Roberto.
"It's not your fault Doug died. It's no one's fault," she soothed.
"I know you don't believe that, Illyana," his mutter came softly.
Her blue eyes narrowed but not at Roberto. "You're right. I blame the Animator. It's his fault that Doug's dead. But it's not yours. How could you even think such a thing?"
"Because I took Warlock away. If Warlock had been with Doug then he wouldn't have died." Illyana could hear the venom and tension in Roberto's voice.
"You don't know that. If Doug had been with Warlock then Rahne might have died. You can't call on ifs, Bobby. Because what's happened had happened. Let it go. It wasn't your fault."
Roberto could feel her sorrow and pain now but she really, truly believed that it wasn't his fault. And if Illyana could believe in something then so could he. Slowly he raised his head to gaze into her bright, blue eyes. Something shone inside him for an instant then it was gone.
"Okay, Illyana. I let go, too."
Silence descended upon them. Roberto wrapped his arms around Illyana and they sat there in the darkness and the shadows just being there for one another.
"What do we live on now?" her voice floated across to him.
"What do you mean?" he questioned.
"I was living on my pain and grief. Strange thing is, it kept me going. I thought if I was miserable and cried and wept that Death would have to give me back my brother. But now, now what do I go on for?"
It was very similar to the question he had just been asking himself. Without my guilt what's left inside me? Well, he knew now.
"We go on, Illyana. Simple as that."
"But.." she started and he placed a finger on her lips.
"We continue on by counting on love. I love you. I can't bear to lose you now." The moment he said it he was stunned that he had actually been able TO say it. But fear claimed his heart again. What would Illyana think?
Illyana's mouth hung open as her blue eyes stared down at the floor. She hadn't been expecting to her him say that. No, never.
He was sitting there now, looking at her eyes desperate and scared. Frightened that she would pull away and laugh in his face. Say she wanted nothing to do with him and he was a fool for loving her. But had she had that, then she would have been lying.
"I love you. I just didn't realize it for so long because I couldn't feel my heart. But I do love you," Illyana whispered as a true smile crossed her face.
Thank God, Roberto thought. He smiled at her and then leaned close to brush his lips against hers. The kiss was sweet and he could still taste the bittersweet saltiness of tears on her lips.
The bright blue eyes closed, as Illyana kissed Roberto back with every ounce of love in her. She could taste the tears on his lips. When they drew apart, she laughed. It had been so long since she'd laughed.
The next thing Roberto knew, Illyana had thrown her arms around his neck and was kissing him sweetly. The first rays of sunlight began to creep through the windows. They had survived the night and were now being blessed with a new day and a new chance for love.
