I’m (Not) Okay

Greetings MA :wave: 🏻

Emotions.   That is the theme for this month’s Marvel Men’s Club. For it, I was caught between two ideas. A fic where Sabretooth’s recent sighting leads to a disappearance and a possible death for Kurt. And this one. I think I’ll save the former for an October post, as a sort of spooky/scary/horror theme.

For this one, Pietro ends up imprisoned and left alone on confinement. This takes place after X-Men Apocalypse (the movie) and the emotions are: Anxiety, Depression, Anger, and Fear.

White walls, plexiglass, and a locked door. This was what Pietro had to live with. He didn’t know what he did to end up here. At least upon arrival. He hadn’t done anything wrong. This time. Yet, he was knocked out and dragged to a high security prison.

He was secluded. Inhibited by a collar. And under constant supervision. The silence was constant, unforgiving and cold. While the solitude was haunting and painful.

It reminded him of a similar situation almost a decade ago. When he broke his father out of a similar situation. It would be funny if it weren’t so unfortunate.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been there. Time began to blur. And with no clocks in the area, he was left in the dark.

What Pietro did know was the guards hated him. They beat and starved him. They taunted him with freedom, only to slam the door shut. But their actions weren’t their only cruelty.

Their words were just as vile. It was clear that they hated mutants. Him specifically because of his father. Which is why he believed he was apprehended. Not because he did anything wrong, but because of a vendetta against his father. A man he wasn’t even sure knew he was his son.

Regardless, he was being targeted for personal reasons. Not because he did anything wrong in the present. Not because of previous crimes. But for vindication and hate.

For two months, he had been subjected to numerous attacks. Physically and mentally. He started to wonder if anyone knew he was gone. If anyone even cared.

Two Weeks Later

The color in his eyes faded. His face colored with bruises. He was beginning to truly think no one cared. He heard no news on if anyone was looking for him. Not a single paper or discussion to give him hope. The beatings got worse and his confinement more daunting,

Pietro tried yelling for help. Hoping, praying that someone would free him. To talk to him. But no one answered.

Loneliness barely touched the surface. His body was shaking, his breathing quickening. Curling up into a ball, he could barely contain his anxiety. Dread sank into his stomach like rocks as a choking sob rose in his throat.

“Please…” he softly begged, “let me go.”

Two Months Later

Pietro was lying on the ground. His body boney and cold. His breathing was slow but rhythmic. His hair was knotted and twig like. His voice was gone and he was hallucinating that a bunny was hopping around the cell.

He was barely surviving. The guards suspected he’d be dead by the end of the week. Not even if they were lucky. Sharp smirks lavished in the notion as they took bets on how much longer he would last.

Entering the room, the guards pretended like they were bringing him food. Instead, they were seeing if he was actually alive. One guard kicked Pietro in the side, causing him to roll over. Sweat and nothingness was all that greeted them.

“You’re right Frank.” The guard noted. “He might not make it through the night.”

Frank’s head tilted. “Why don’t we put it out of it’s misery, Rob? It’s not fun to mess with anymore.”

“You’re right, and I think I know just the trick.” Rob pulled out a knife, crouching down beside Pietro. “It was fun while it lasted.”

Raising the knife over Pietro’s heart, Rob was ready to strike. Swinging down, his arm abruptly stopped half way. The knife was pulled out of his hand, flying behind him.

Frank let out a scream as Rob turned around. “You!”

Erik pulled the knife from Frank’s chest as he glared at Rob. He pushed Frank aside as he silently and stormed towards the guard, a blank expression glaring the man down. Rob pulled out a firearm firing it. However, the bullets stopped mid flight. They were turned around and fired back at Frank, piercing him several times.

When Frank fell to the ground, Erik’s expression turned to fear as he knelt next to his son. Carefully, sitting Pietro up, he tried to see if he was responsive.

“Pietro.” Erik softly called, his hand gently landing on the side of his face. “Wake up.” At first, he didn’t respond. “Pietro?” Dark eyes moved, trying to focus on Erik. He couldn’t speak, but his face seemed to light up. “That’s the spirit.” Erik picked him up. “Hold on. Please.”

Some Time Later

Pietro was diagnosed with PTSD. He physically healed pretty quickly, but he was no longer the chipper speedster. His voice, though silent, was said to be back. But since he hadn’t spoke since he had.

And despite having the freedom to interact with others, Pietro didn’t. He stayed in the medbay, not wanting to leave. He didn’t seem to want visitors, but that didn’t stop people like Nightcrawler and Storm checking in on him. Though they did give him space.

After a few days, Pietro was allowed to move around. The first day, he made his way to the study. At first, he was content, however the crowd coming and going made him uncomfortable and leave, hiding in his room for the rest of the day.

Today, he was outside.

“Hey.” Erik greeted. “How are you?” It was a simple question.

“I’m fine.” Pietro sighed. “Just fine.”

Erik closed the gap between them. Believing Pietro’s words was debatable, but he wasn’t going to force it. “I was so worried about you. When I heard you were taken… I thought I lost you.”

Hands landed on Pietro’s shoulders, prompting Pietro to jump. He froze, looking at Erik with wide eyes and a stiff frown. The was soft… kind. Unlike the men in the prison who beat him.

It felt secure. Warm. Loving. Pietro didn’t know he needed this small gesture of affection. And form his own father, who he didn’t have much with until he was much older.

Something in Pietro snapped as tears streamed down his face. His body began shaking and his voice finally finding itself. Letting out sobs, Pietro hugged his father, holding him tight. When he felt arms wrap around him, he felt safe for the first time in months.

Pietro wasn’t fine. But this was the first thing on months that made it feel like it could be.

#MMC

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