And The World Trembled
Chapter two

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, New Mutants Wing

Julio linked his hands between his knees, trying to make them stop shaking. The room was trembling. He took a deep breath, banking his abilities. This was only going to hurt him. It could only end badly.

"Rictor?"

He jumped and stood. Shatterstar stood in the doorway, sword held in one hand as though without it, the world made even less sense. "Hey," Julio managed after a minute.

"I am going to watch the television. Did you want to go watch the television?"

The young alien was making an effort. Julio thought about going with him, put his hand in his pocket and felt that little slip of paper curl around his fingers. He could just leave this insanity. Toss the paper in the trash and forget all about calling her.

She didn't want him.

The room was shaking again. Shatterstar frowned and looked at the door, as if that might explain it. Julio took a deep breath, and it stopped.

"No, Shatterstar. Thanks, though."

Shatterstar just nodded once and left.

Julio sank down onto the floor.

Mexico

He'd gotten as far as the little tourist city--mostly empty, since it was mid-week and while it was summer, most people were working--when Maria caught up with him.

"You are in such shit, Julio," she snarled, parking the truck half on the sidewalk and jumping out of it.

Julio backpedalled. "I'm going home," he said, too loudly.

"Bull. You saw, didn't you? You saw, you little shit, and now what are you going to do about it?"

Maria was catching up on him. Julio turned and started at a fast walk toward the mouth of an alley. Behind him, he could hear Maria start to run. Julio bolted. He wasn't about to let her catch him.

Into the alley, over some trash, racing toward the other side--

It was walled in.

"Estupido," Maria panted, behind him, her hands on her knees. He turned, eyeing her.

"I'm not going back," he repeated. "Do you know what your father does?"

"Of course I know what my father does, ese!" Maria snapped. "He sells guns to stupid Americans so they can go home and kill each other! He makes enough money doing it to support us, and you and your family too! You should be grateful!"

"That man wasn't American," Julio yelled. "And even if he was--what, it's okay to sell guns to people if they're not our people?" He started walking again, squaring his shoulders and trying to bullshit his way past her.

Maria grabbed his sleeve and hauled him back, slamming him against the wall of a building. "What are you going to do about it, Julio?" she said, quietly. Somehow, that was more frightening than her yelling.

Julio swallowed. "I'm going home."

"And then? You gonna call the cops?"

He hadn't thought that far ahead. His hesitation was costly.

"You think I'm gonna let you call the cops on my padre, you got another think coming!" Maria snapped. She pulled him away from the wall and smashed him back again.

Julio's head hit, pain exploding behind his eyes. Distantly, he felt the world tremble.

"I'd rather see you dead, you little shit," she snarled. "Come back to the house."

She began to pull him toward the mouth of the alley, toward the truck, and he knew suddenly that if they got back to the house, he might never get home again.

"No," he shouted, pulling away. She was bigger, though, older by several years, and strong. He couldn't make her let go of his arm. "Maria, stop! I won't tell anyone. I just want to go home."

"Bullshit," she snapped. She yanked, wrenching, and Julio stumbled. His arm twisted before he caught himself. He bit back a shout. "I'm gonna take you home, and then Daddy can figure out what the fuck to do with you."

Julio planted both feet and pulled. Maria still didn't let him go, though she did nearly trip over his feet. Julio yanked again, trying to get free while she was off balance.

"Stupid little shit!" Maria yelled, falling half on top of him. "Gonna give you to my padre's men, you keep this up!" She hit him. Closed fisted, like a boy, smashing his face against her fist and the back of his head against the concrete.

His vision tunneled down as his skull exploded with pain. The world trembled again. Julio scrambled to his feet, one wrist still in Maria's vise-like grip. His sight was coming back. He planted both feet and swung, hoping to catch Maria still off balance. It worked; she tripped, and pulled him down with her.

"Damn you!" she shouted, smashing her elbow into his nose.

Julio staggered away, free but blinded by pain. He knew better than to try and fight her. She always won. Run. He could run. If he could outrun her--

Her foot swung, catching his ankle and yanking it out from under him. He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. He started to roll, and she kicked him in the stomach. Julio nearly vomited. Everything trembled again.

"What the hell?" he heard Maria say.

Again, the ground beneath him rocked, harder this time.

"Earthquake!"

He felt Maria grab his arm, hauling him up and toward the truck once more.

"Let go!" he shouted, blood dripping down his face. He couldn't go back with her. He couldn't. Maybe before, but not now--not after he'd made her angry. Things would be bad. "Let go of me!"

The world shook. Maria screamed and dropped to her hands and knees, and behind him, a building cracked and started to fall.

One fear supplanted the other as he propelled himself into the street, away from the toppling building. The earthquake grew. Nearby, someone screamed. The sound grabbed his heart, ripping it up into his throat.

The shaking was getting worse. Another building fell. Cars screeched, trying to avoid him and each other. The ground rocked and Julio staggered, lost his balance, smashed to the ground. The cars missed him by inches. The ground leapt underneath him, in time to the pounding of his heart. Another building toppled.

"No," he heard himself say, and went scrambling for the other sidewalk, but the earth was shaking too hard and he couldn't stand. The street cracked. Three more buildings fell.

"Help!" Julio screamed. He felt someone grab his arm, pulling him to the safety of the sidewalk. The crack in the street grew. It followed him. He shoved forward on his hands and knees, trying to get out of the path and still it followed, shifting directions like a living thing.

The man who'd grabbed him shoved away, looking at him in horror. "You! It wants you! Your doing!"

Julio heard something above him rumble. He covered his head. Another building came down, chunks of rock and plaster falling short of Julio's small body. The quake was only getting worse.

More cracks appeared in the ground. People screamed, racing out of buildings, trying to keep from getting crushed as more and more things came crashing down. None of the people could stand for more than a few seconds at a time. Someone shouted a name, but was cut off before it could be finished.

Julio coughed, choking on dust and debris. His eyes watered. He couldn't breathe. The shaking got worse.

The building beside him rocked on its foundation. A baby cried. Then the whole structure fell. Julio screamed as the rubble rained down on him, choking him, chunks pounding into his body. Then something hit his head, and he fell into the blackness.

When he woke, the earthquake had stopped. He opened his eyes slowly, coughing as his lungs tried to breathe. His whole body was on fire. But he was alive.

Weakly, he pushed rocks off his legs and tried to sit up.

People were wandering around, looking shellshocked. Someone was sobbing. Julio sat on a small island in the middle of the earth, cracks in the cement ringing him and running away, as if a god had a smashed a hammer into the place where Julio sat and the earth had shattered.

Only, there was no god. Just him. People were staring.

Julio stood, somehow, staggering on his feet and bracing himself on a chunk of what had once been a building.

The destruction went on as far as he could see. In the distance, something was smoking.

He stepped carefully over the crack in the ground, getting enough of a look to realize it went down a long way before looking elsewhere.

People were moving away from him.

Rocks had smashed Maria's truck. Julio felt his breath hitch, and didn't look for Maria's body. He staggered away. People were still watching him.

"Mutant," he heard someone whisper. Julio's head ripped up and around, trying to spot whoever had spoken. More people were staring, now. Whispering. Mutant? No. No. He looked around again. Buildings all down the street had fallen. Bodies littered the ground. Farther away, the lights flashed on an ambulance but the ambulance didn't move. The window and hood had been smashed by part of a building.

"Hey, kid--"

He jumped away from the outstretched hand, heart drumming up into his throat. The ground under his feet trembled. Someone screamed. Julio jumped, and the asphalt cracked, running away from him for a long five feet before stopping.

Julio stared.

The man stared, too, face going white.

"Mutant," someone said again.

Julio ran. Behind him, the ground shook and broke. People screamed. Someone began to pray, sobbing through the words. "Dios te salve, María. Llena eres de gracia: El Señor es contigo."

Julio twisted, racing down an alley, through to the next street over. He stopped. It, too, had been destroyed. He began to shake. He couldn't have done this. It was impossible. The ground beneath his feet trembled. It cracked. Julio whimpered and started to run, tears blurring his vision as he tore through the city while the ground shook behind him. He tripped, falling, landing hard on his already injured body. He covered his head, sobbing, praying for it to be over.

Slowly, the trembling ground stilled again. Aftershocks. That was all it was. Aftershocks.

He clawed his way to his feet and staggered on. Stepped over the ravines in the concrete that surrounded him. Walked to the next street. It was just as devastated. Someone had a radio playing. Three buildings still stood, cracked and listing.

"Kid, you okay?"

He flinched from the hand. The ground shook and he flinched again.

"You're all bloody."

He kept a wary eye on the man and backed slowly away.

"You have somewhere to go?"

Memories of Maria washed through him. The ground trembled.

"Shit," the man said, staggering and spreading his legs, trying to keep his balance.

"Help," Julio heard himself whimper. Then he turned and ran.

He didn't stop running. He ran until he got back to the forest. Back to where there weren't people to hurt. He scrambled up a slope, adrenaline pushing him farther, faster, letting him ignore his wounds. Then he got to the top, and looked down at the city.

There was no more city.

He fell to his knees, unable to stand, breath whistling through his mouth because his nose was plugged with blood.

There was no more city.

"Madre de Dios," he whispered, his eyes filling. "Help."

Underneath him, the ground shook. Birds exploded out of a tree nearby. A rabbit bolted. Julio pushed back to his feet. He had to go. He had to get as far away from here as possible. He had to run before they realized what he'd done.

Oh, God. What he'd done.

**

It was almost a relief when they found him. He'd spent a day wandering, out of the woods, into the desert, back into the forest where there was shade, even if it was a coastline forest and so there still wasn't any fresh water. His tongue felt thick, and he would have given anything to go home.

The jeep pulled over. Two men got out, looking angry behind sunglasses. Julio thought about running, but it was too hard. It was all too hard. He managed not to cry, and even that was a feat.

"We know what you did," one of them said, stopping just in front of him. "In the city."

"I didn't mean to." His legs wouldn't work. He sank to the warm ground.

"We're going to take you in, now. All right? In to see the police."

Julio blinked away liquid. They were going to send him to jail for the rest of his life. He knew it. He'd killed those people.

"Get in the car."

He couldn't stop the tears. He rubbed knuckles over his eyes, walking unsteadily toward the jeep and climbing inside.

"Water," the driver said, handing back a bottle.

He took it in shaking hands and drank. His throat screamed at the cool; it was almost too much. He kept drinking, aware suddenly of how very thirsty he was. His clothing stuck to him, and dirt had found its way into every crevice.

"Take it easy," one of the officers said, getting in the jeep beside him and taking the bottle away. "You'll make yourself sick."

He could already feel his stomach twisting, unsure what to do with so much liquid and no food to absorb it. As if the day spent in the heat and the sun was enough to make his body forget what water was.

"I didn't mean to do what I did," he said quietly. He was shaking, now. They were driving down a dirt path, bumping and sinking into potholes. The cops didn't speak. "Can I see my mother?" His voice seemed thready and hoarse even to his own ears.

They didn't answer.

Julio looked from one to the other. His stomach turned. They hit a pothole, and even after he knew they must be over it the jeep just seemed to keep bumping and swaying. The world was darkening. So tired. He just needed to sleep.

Then he did.

His mind was fuzzy when he woke. His tongue was thick. It was dark; darker than he'd ever seen it. Not even the stars could lighten it up. Then he remembered the police, and realized he must be in jail.

He couldn't stop the shaking, but at least this time it was only him, not the world, that trembled. That was when he realized his arms were bound.

They didn't tie you up in jail. He was sure of it.

A door swung up, letting in light, silhouetting a large figure. It came slowly down the stairs. Julio struggled to sit up, then to stand. In the glow from the door he could see that he was in a small room with a toilet, a sink, and a cot. The ground felt like dirt, and the walls where the light hit looked like they might be earth, too.

"Feeling better?" the figure asked.

Julio blinked, trying to keep the prickling behind his eyes from turning into tears. "You're not a policeman," he said. His face was tender; even speaking hurt.

The man laughed. "No. I'm not."

Julio inched away, only to run up against the back wall. His hands were still tied behind his back. He pulled at the ropes, but they didn't budge. He'd heard stories like this. About little boys and girls who were kidnapped and used until there was nothing left of them. Then they were killed.

"If you touch me," he said, his voice shaking, "I'll make this whole place come down around your head!"

The figure snorted. He sat down on the cot. The springs creaked under his weight, but held. "Come here."

Julio flattened himself against the wall.

"Stupid little shit. Come here so I can untie you."

It was tempting. His wrists hurt. The skin was raw, and every breath shifted his arms so that the ropes rubbed. Finally, he walked near and turned so the man could get to his hands.

He heard the snap of a blade and waited, tense. But the man only cut through the ropes and put the little knife away. Julio began to relax. Then a hand clasped his wrist, hauling him back. The cot hit his knees and he fell, yelping, twisted around until he was on his stomach, his arm drawn up and a knee on his spine, the man on top of him.

Julio couldn't keep from crying, even as he struggled. "Let go!" he screamed, hoping that someone would hear him through the open door, would come and help.

He heard the snap of the blade again, and saw it glimmer near his face. He blinked tears away, instinct telling him to watch the threat so he could at least dodge. Then he saw the knife hovering close to his eye, and he wished he'd closed them. Julio yanked his head away, but the knife followed, and he couldn't twist his neck any farther. Julio caught his breath, holding himself very still, knowing that whatever happened next, he was too small to fight this large man and he wouldn't be able to stop it. He gasped for air and tried not to move.

"If you ever threaten me with earthquakes like that again," the big man whispered, his breath smelling like rotten fish, "I will fucking make you wish you hadn't. Clear?"

"Y-yes," Julio managed. The blade slipped back into its sheath, and he closed his eyes, body relaxing in sudden relief. He was crying into the mattress, the arm pulled up behind him throbbing, his face on fire. The man moved, pushing him farther into the cot. Julio squeezed his eyes closed even tighter, his body tensing once more against expected pain and--and--and something clanged. Then Julio felt metal close around his wrist, and heard the television-learned click of handcuffs tightening.

The weight lifted off him suddenly. He sat up, taking the repreive, scooting away. The cuff was attached to a chain that was hooked to the foot of the bed. There was enough room for him to reach the back wall, though, where he stood, shaking, watching the man.

The man sat again, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it slowly.

"My--my uncle Miguel is an important man," Julio said after a minute. He voice quivered. "He could--"

"Your uncle Miguel is busy burying his only daughter," the large man said. "He's not going to be any help to you."

Julio felt tears sting his eyes again. Weak. His mother had told him to be strong. It would be fine. "What do you want?" he asked after another long period of silence.

The man looked at him. Smoke curled up toward the low ceiling. "You."

Julio pushed farther back into the wall.

The man smirked. "Not like that. You don't have to worry about your virtue. None of us are into mutants."

"I'm not--" Julio started.

The man silenced him with a single, angry look.

"Here," the man said, fishing in his pocket and pulling out half of a crushed sandwich. He tossed it onto the stained mattress. "There's water in the tap." He nodded at the sink. Then he stood and started for the stairs.

Julio watched him go. It wasn't until the door was closing that he realized there was no light. He almost called out, but didn't. His arm hurt. He didn't know what else the man might do.

The door closed. Julio blinked in the dark, then slowly sank down to the cold earth floor.

X-Factor Headquarters

He stared at Bobby's door for a long time.

"Hey." He jumped at the word, then saw Jean down the hall. "Calling your parents?" Jean asked with a glance toward the bedroom.

Julio hesitated, then shook his head. "I was just wondering if Bobby was there," he lied.

Jean smiled, watching him. "He's out for the day." She stopped, still watching him. He stared at his feet. "You know, you should call them. Your parents. They're going to be worried about you."

Unlikely, he thought.

"Really. Julio, you've been here for several days. Call home. All right?"

He remained silent.

"All right?"

She wasn't going away. "All right," he said finally.