18. chrysalism.

                                    

                                          
i was close to the e n d of my rope and i know
that might be hard to believe considering e v e r y t h i n g i've been feeling lately

                          
All that’s left in the wake of the explosion is the smouldering remains of the school and a debris-filled trench where Cerebro used to be. The students and teachers have a miracle in the form of Peter Maximoff to thank for their lives, and he did so with a grin. He pulls out Hank first, who is soon joined on the lawn of the school by the rest of the students, as well as Moira and Raven. Neither Alex nor Aoibheal were anywhere to be found, but there are bigger things to deal with right now.
                          
"Hey, where'd you..." Breathless and confused, Hank trails off as he looks to Peter, who’s busy squinting at the former school, ignoring the bewildered and suddenly nervous children.
                          
"I was looking for the Professor," the speedster mused, words still flying too quickly from his mouth, his eyes scouring the debris as if Charles were to suddenly pop out from behind a pile of ashen floorboards. "I thought he lived here." Hank looked to the others, to Moira, shaken but unharmed, before he could answer Peter.
                          
"They took him." Though his voice was low, Hank needn’t have worried of catching the students attention, as something far more impressive had them all transfixed. Raven cuts a striking figure in her blue skin, standing tall out of habit rather than wanting to own her look, if her confused, vaugley uncomfortable expression says anything. "They look up to you; right now, they need you." He implored her, but it did little good as the blue scales of Raven’s skin were flipping in moments, leaving her awash with pale skin and blonde hair, though her expression remained cold.
                          
"That's not what they need." Her snapped retort was overshadowed by a sudden commotion in the form of a car screeching to a halt by the gathered mutants, and Scott Summers barrelling from it, terror written all over his face.
                          
“What happened?” He demanded, and suddenly Hank’s heart is in his throat because this can’t be happening fuck fu- “Where’s Alex? Where’s my brother!?” It’s written all over Hank’s, face,  mirrored on Moira and Raven’s, but Scott doesn’t look to them, he looks to their supposed saviour, even though all Peter does is shrug.
                          
“I’m pretty sure I got everybody." And though his tone is nonchalant, he’s suddenly aware of Hank by his side, the carefully low way he murmurs to Peter so Scott won’t hear.
                          
"Alex was closest to the blast, apart from,” his voice catches in his throat, “Aoibheal." Hank can’t bring himself to look Peter in the eye, instead he drops his gaze, wringing his hands without even realising. Just for a moment, Peter’s whole world stops, the breath in his lungs, the heart in his chest, the thoughts in his head; nothing works when he realises what Hank’s saying. Scott’s already taken off into the debris with Jean and Kurt by his side, but Peter can’t even bring himself to take a step. It’s been years since he’d seen her, but the thought of losing her aches like a punch to the gut, and it’s only when there’s a commotion from the hole where Cerebro used to be, that he can finally shift back into gear. A weak voice is calling out from the trench, scratchy and broken, punctuated by a small explosion; it’s only when Hank picks out his name above the chatter of the children does he realise. “It’s her! She’s in there-“ Peter wastes no time, taking off as soon as his brain thaws out from it’s earlier shock. Even though Aoibheal doesn’t seem too pleased to be hauled from the wreckage, it seems to be only one of many terrible things that have her shaking violently, calling out for Charles or Hank or some guy called Alex who Peter doesn’t know, in a voice so broken and small it leaves her sounds more like a child than the adult she is. To add insult to injury, she’s littered with uncountable cuts and bruises, as well as a few pretty deep gashes, but she’s at least mobile, even if the explosion had left her clothing in ruins with little more than a pair of horrendously tattered jean shorts and a sports bra.