And The World Trembled
Chapter Three

Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, New Mutants Wing

She didn't want him. She didn't want him.

But it had been three years. Long enough that he'd had to look up his own phone number. He just wanted to hear her voice. Just her voice. That was all. He wasn't bad. He was a good person, and working to do good things. Surely she could understand that.

God, please let her understand that. He wanted to hear her voice.

Julio lurched to his feet, walked to the phone, pulled the paper out of his pocket, and started to dial. Then he dropped it and ran for the bathroom, vomiting into the toilet.

He couldn't do this. He couldn't. Not after all this time. Not--

He missed her so much. He just wanted to hear her voice.

Julio stood and went back to the phone. He hung it up carefully, hands shaking, eyes closed, pain in every part of his body. Just her voice. Taking a deep breath, he picked the phone back up and dialed.

Mexico

He had no way of knowing how long he'd been down there. Forever, it seemed. He had tried screaming. The chain wouldn't let him get as far as the door, or he'd have beaten on it. He'd tried begging. Pleading. Praying. He'd said the Hail Mary until his voice broke. And then he slept.

When he woke, he walked until he bumped into the sink, then drank tap water. He used the toilet. Then he'd gone back and sat on the sagging cot with only the one thin blanket. He wrapped it around his body and tried to pretend this was just a camping trip, and he'd be home soon.

It didn't work.

Relief made him desperate when the door opened again. "You just stay there, mutant," the man said, before Julio could even speak.

He sank back on his cot. "Please, I want to go home."

The man, tall and skinny, with crew cut blond hair, carried a television down. He sat it on the floor, then went back up. A moment later, he came down with a VCR and a stack of tapes.

"Please," Julio said again. "Please, I want to go home. Please let me go home."

"Have you had breakfast?" the skinny man asked, hands on his hips and peering at Julio. "No, I don't think so. Hang on."

He went back up the stairs. He was trailing an extension cord when he returned, and holding a sandwich. "Here," he said, offering the sandwich.

Julio took it carefully. "Who are you?"

The man plugged the television in and said nothing. He turned it on; it was static until he put a tape in the VCR. Then Bambi sprung to life.

"Who are you?" Julio asked again.

The skinny man stood. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a baggie full of little yellow and red pills. He shook two out into his hand and offered them.

Julio inched away.

"Damn it, kid. I wasn't asking. Take them. Don't make me hurt you."

"What are they?" Julio whispered. They sat innocently in the rough palm, dwarfed by the size of the hand.

"Just some sedatives. Real mild like."

He didn't trust the man. "No."

"God damn it!"

Julio flinched.

"Rodriguez! I need you down here!"

The large man appeared in the doorway a moment later.

"He won't take the damn pills. I told you--"

Rodriguez came down the stairs.

Julio stood, backing away. "No," he said again, louder this time. "I want to go home."

Rodriguez ignored him, taking the pills from the skinny man's hand and marching forward.

"No," Julio nearly shouted. He bolted, jumping onto the cot and trying to dart past Rodriguez.

The man grabbed the chain and yanked. Pulled off his feet, Julio landed hard on his back.

"Take them," the man said. His hand clamped around Julio's throat.

Julio coughed, eyes watering. "No," he croaked, and locked his teeth together.

The man drew his hand across his meaty chest and slapped Julio, backhanded, without letting go of Julio's neck. Julio's vision went black, his world exploding. It shouldn't hurt this much. Something was wrong. Tears blurred his vision. He kept his jaw locked.

The man backhanded him again. He heard himself yelp, then closed his jaw again. Snot or blood ran down his lip, mixing with tears, making it hard to breathe. The man pinched his nose shut, and pain shot up his face. He bared his teeth and breathed through them.

"Smart kid," Rodriguez muttered. Then he lifted Julio bodily by the front of his shirt and smashed him against the wall.

Julio's head rocked, stars exploding past his eyes. He gasped, closed his mouth, felt himself bashed against the wall again. He cried out. Fingers shoved between his teeth, dirty and salty. A hand dug into his hair, his head yanked back painfully. He heard words, but couldn't make them out. An arm across his chest, a body behind his, forcing his head back farther.

Fingers pried his jaw open, curses hissed by his ear as he tried to bite down, and someone shoved pills into his mouth. He spit them out, got slapped for it but not nearly as hard as the last time.

The earth trembled.

Julio's eyes opened.

"Goddamn it!" Skinny said, staggering to keep his balance.

Rodriguez was holding Julio. He felt the big man shift, staying upright.

Earth dribbled from the ceiling, and the room trembled again. The shaking was much harder, this time.

"How do we shut him off?" Skinny shouted.

"Easy. Like this."

Rodriguez moved, carrying Julio to the sink. Julio saw both of them in the cracked, stained mirror. Then the man grabbed his hair and smashed Julio's head into the porcelain.

**

He woke to pain. The dull, throbbing pain that promised agony if you moved. He could hear something playing, and after a time realized it was Cinderella.

He hated Cinderella.

Julio tried to open his eyes. Only one would, and only partway. Whimpering, he dragged himself off the cot and staggered to the toilet, throwing up.

There was a lot of blood.

At least with the television going, he could see enough to make his way around the prison. He stood in front of the sink and the cracked, yellow mirror, and stared at his reflection.

He wasn't recognizable.

His face was swollen out of shape. One eye had closed, and the other had almost joined it. Blood crusted across his head and down one side of his face. Carefully, gingerly, he took toilet paper, wet it, and started trying to get some of the blood off.

It hurt. Luckily, he had lots of time to work through it.

When he was at least cleaner--it hurt too much to get perfectly clean--he took another wad of wet toilet paper and put it on his eye, hoping the cold water would do something. Then he sat on the cot and watched the rest of Cinderella, trying desperately not to think about where he was.

He wiped tears off swollen skin and pretended like his eyes were watering. He paid careful attention when the mice started to trim the dress.

She'd gotten her foot in the glass slipper despite her family when the door of the basement--cellar?--opened again.

Julio felt his chest freeze. Then he took a deep breath and used a hand that wasn't trembling to wipe away water that hadn't come from his eye.

It was Skinny. Julio relaxed a little.

From the corner of his eye, Julio could see that Skinny had a tray. The man came down the stairs and set it carefully on the edge of the cot.

Julio wiped water off his face again. "My mom'll find me," he said. "And then you're all gonna go to jail."

Skinny stopped at the foot of the stairs and stared at him. Julio tore his gaze from the television and stared back.

Skinny's face crumpled. He looked… sad. "No, she's not, kid," he said softly. "You killed a lot of people. More than a hundred are in the hospitals. More than fifty dead. They'll think you're dead, too. And if they don't… you're a murderer. Your mom isn't going to look for you. The police certainly aren't. Just… be good, okay? Just do what we want, and you'll be okay here." Then he turned and walked up the stairs.

Julio managed to hold back until the door closed before he started crying. He sat on the edge of the cot and wrapped his arms around himself, rocking back and forth. And cried.

**

The next morning came too early. He suspected he could time things by meals; three meals, a time for sleeping. Mornings apparently brought pills.

Skinny held out his hand with the two little pills on his palm.

Julio swallowed. "No." His voice didn't sound nearly as certain as it had the morning before.

"Shit, kid," Skinny said. "They're just sedatives. To keep you from blowing the whole place up." He moved his hand, drawing attention to it. "Make this easy."

Julio shook his head. "No."

Skinny just looked at him for a minute. Then he looked toward the open door and shouted. "Rodriguez!"

Julio caught his panicked whimper before it left his throat. He stood, shaking. The earth trembled. He tried to encourage it, praying for the quakes that had come before. He thought maybe the pills were still in his system, though, because nothing happened.

Rodriguez came slowly down the stairs, took the pills from Skinny, and stopped in front of Julio. He held out his hand. "Take the pills."

"N-no." Julio worked his fingers, sweat springing up all over his body.

Rodriguez backhanded him. Julio staggered and fell, agony flaring. It shouldn't hurt this much. It shouldn't hurt this much, except that he was already injured, his face swollen. He tasted blood.

A hand landed in his hair, pulling him up to his knees and yanking his head back. The pills appeared in front of him. "Take the pills."

"I want to go home!" The words were out before he even knew he was thinking it. Rodriguez took the opportunity, forcing his fingers into Julio's mouth, pouring pills in with them. Julio pushed his tongue against the pills, trying to spit them back out, unable to get past Rodriguez's fingers. They tasted like sweat and dirt. They were too big. Julio gagged. Water splashed against his face, dribbling into his mouth. He had to swallow. He couldn't breathe. He pressed his tongue against rough skin, throat convulsing. Water bubbled out of his mouth in an abortive cough, but somehow he managed to swallow.

Rodriguez let him go. Julio curled into a little ball beside the cot, gasping and coughing and hating the men and his life.

They left.

And so it went for nearly a month. After the first week Julio learned to take the pills. They would make him if he didn't. He couldn’t win. And the pills didn't seem to do much anyway.

X-Factor Headquarters

He closed Bobby's door behind him and leaned against it, staring at the phone. It was hard to be afraid of it. It was, after all, shaped like a duck sitting on a raft.

Somehow, Julio still managed.

He hated her. She didn't need to know he was alive. She hadn't cared before. Not when the Right had him. Not for all those months. Julio closed his eyes, breathing deeply, trying to stop the shaking. Eventually, it died out.

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