Angelo and Illyana, late Tuesday afternoon

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A few hours after her fight with Piotr, Illyana beats the hell out of a punching bag and talks to Angelo.


Her fists slammed into the punching bag with force fuelled by anger, and Illyana Rasputin was for once glad to be hitting something as hard as she could; first the mess with Strange on Saturday, and then Piotr today -- not that it wasn't her fault, wasn't what she wanted, but she hadn't expected him to overreact. She'd just wanted him to back off. She switched dominant sides and threw her weight behind her left arm; she'd pay the price for not wearing the gloves as Mr Dayspring had suggested, but for now she was just glad for the distraction. After her conversation with Jamie, she'd needed some time to think -- but she kept going back to her argument with Piotr, and its eventual deterioration.

She was still beating hell out of the punchbag when Angelo arrived, intent on doing much the same thing, but out of routine, rather than anger. As he pushed the door open, he picked up on her mood immediately, paused, then shrugged and carried on into the room, keeping quiet.

She heard someone enter and ignored whoever it was, determined to exhaust herself into calmness if nothing else.

Angelo let her keep things the way she obviously wanted them, at least for now, dropping his towel casually to the floor and beginning his stretches.

Illyana risked a quick glance back as she sped up, mostly to make sure that Piotr hadn't come to talk at her any more. Seeing Angelo, she turned back abruptly, not really ready to face anyone else gloating over her ill-conceived omissions.

Angelo didn't miss that and raised an eyebrow, wondering if she'd have reacted the same to anyone else. "What's up, 'Yana?" he ventured mildly.

She didn't look back; didn't trust herself to look at anyone at the moment. "Apart from having betrayed my family honour, not much," she said in false, cheery tone. "And you?"

Angelo blinked. "Oh, let me guess who said that. What about?"

"I'm surprised you have to guess," she said, in between blows; the sound of flesh hitting leather full-on rang through the room. "He shouted it so that half the country knows by now." She paused again, slowing down a bit. "Apparently not being seven and obsessed with fluffy bunnies or whatever the hell constitutes a massive and unforgivable betrayal."

Angelo shrugged, winding up his stretches and moving to a free punchbag. "It's a lot to adjust to, you gotta give him that. That said, he's really not goin' about it too well..."

"No, he's finally been perfectly straightforward," Illyana snapped. It was clear what he'd said had hit a nerve, although which nerve was anyone's guess. "Well-adjusted, you might say. I'm disowned."

That, he hadn't been expecting. "For real? Wasn't just him throwin' a sulk again?"

"He seemed pretty damn sure." She stopped, but still didn't turn around, breathing heavily; her body was tense with energy, coiled like a spring. She shaped her words like weapons, sharp-edged and hard. "But then, for someone he doesn't know, I suppose that's par for the course."

"He seemed pretty damn sure." She stopped, but still didn't turn around, breathing heavily; her body was tense with energy, coiled like a spring. She shaped her words like weapons, sharp-edged and hard. "But then, for someone he doesn't know, I suppose that's perfectly normal."

Angelo was watching her carefully, alert to something in her tone, or her demeanour - there was something there that was very familiar. "Don't know how he could expect t'know you now. Not like he was around when you were growin' up. Or has any clue what it was like where you did."

"No, but apparently we're supposed to pick up where we left off, or at least we would in his demented fantasy world." She laughed a little, humourlessly. "But since his sister died in Limbo, I'm obviously just -- " She cut herself off, sighed. "Well, disowned, there we have it."

"He said that?" Angelo asked sharply. "Jeez - the guy just shouldn't open his mouth sometimes. He might even be right, in a way, just 'cause you're not the little kid he remembers as his sister, but to put it like that... an' he disowned you?"

"As much as said so," she said, shrugging, sliding with effort back to the place where it didn't matter and she didn't care if it did. She turned; a quick glance at her hands told her they were as much of a mess as she'd thought, so she angled them away from him. Something she didn't need to explain. "And I think it's been well established that rocks challenge him at critical thinking." As her breath slowed, she too seemed to cool down, anger slipping back under her control.

Angelo shot a quick glance at her hands - but he'd been there himself, and she had more than enough reason to be angry. He chuckled slightly. "Yeah, true." He eyed her speculatively for a moment before adding idly, "He once got in a fight with Amanda on the journals, you know. Can't remember how it started, but he lost it way more than necessary then, too."

"Well, they're all friendly now," she said with a bright, mocking smile. "Maybe there's hope after all." Her voice was strangely flat, but she knew better than to get into it with Angelo regarding his friends.

Angelo eyed her oddly, unsure what the flat tone in her voice meant, and finally opted to ask directly as he began laying into the punchbag. "Dunno as I'd call them friendly exactly. What gave you that idea?"

"I'm sure you'd rather not discuss it," she said, back against her own bag. Considering the state of her hands, which she regretted considerably more now, she'd be better off going running or something to get tired enough to sleep. "But I'll say that some of the things Piotr said sound suspiciously like the work of someone who is much smarter than he is, and leave it at that."

Angelo raised an eyebrow wryly. "From what we've been talkin' about, that could be a lot of people here. Again, what gives you the idea they're so friendly?"

She looked at him coolly, coming back into control; if he wanted to know, she'd tell him. Selectively, of course. "He thanked her for their talk in her journal," she said, placing no special relevance in her tone. "And then he accused me of something he would never have thought to accuse me of before. It seemed like a good indicator."

Angelo shot her a look, well aware that she was holding out on something. "What did he accuse you of?"

"Not being his sister," she said, looking bored, "which, considering he has seen the DNA results and was content with them before, leads me to my inevitable conclusion."

"Actually not bein' his sister?" Angelo asked pointedly. "Or did he just mean it in the same way he meant his sister died in Limbo?"

She rolled her eyes. Why had she bothered? "No, he was quite clear that he believed his sister -- that would still be me, if you're getting any nagging doubts -- had actually died."

Angelo shrugged. "Well, I wasn't there t'hear him say it, obviously. But I don't think even Amanda thinks you're not who you say you are. Just that you're hidin' stuff, which. Well. You were."

"None of which, I feel obligated to point out, was of any relevance to anyone here," she said, sounding somewhat defensive, but glad for the chance to change the topic.

"Maybe not. But I'm still not really clear on why you didn't say somethin' just to shut people up", he answered, watching her. "'Stead of lettin' us think you had some deep dark secret."

"What you think," she said in a tone that made clear she didn't think they did at all, "is hardly my problem. I didn't say anything because I didn't feel like sharing. Nothing more, nothing less." Which was true, up until the 'nothing more' part.

Angelo shrugged. "Your choice. Just that you seemed so annoyed when everybody kept askin', an' it would've been so easy t'put a stop to it..."

She was quiet for a moment. "Some things that seem easy aren't," she said finally, cryptically, with a shrug.

Angelo eyed her curiously, finally stepping away from the punchbag. "How'd you mean?"

"Nothing in particular -- just that it might have been easy for the rest of you, but it has complicated my life considerably."

Angelo nodded, starting to understand - or at least, thinking he did. "Right. They makin' you do powers trainin'?"

The thought hadn't even occured to her. "I bloody well hope not," she said, having found another reason to hit things. "Don't need it, don't want it. They can concentrate on Clarice."

Angelo nodded, taking her word at face value for once. "So what did you mean?" he asked bluntly. "About your life bein' more complicated now?"

This was getting irritating. Everyone just latched on to everything she said. "For one thing," she snapped, "my brother has disowned me. The rest is a bit minor compared."

Angelo somehow managed not to roll his eyes. "You don't seriously think he wouldn't've done the same whether or not you'd told everyone about your powers? Get real, Illyana."

The words stung, but she remained outwardly unmoved. "Of course he wouldn't have," she snapped. "He wouldn't have had the opportunity or the impetus."

"Really?" Angelo asked flatly. "He wouldn't've felt the same way about you not bein' the girl he knew. He wouldn't've kept tryin' to hunt you down until he managed it. You'd never have talked again. Of course, it makes so much sense that the whole argument happened 'cause you made that post an' no other reason."

She snorted. "Stop making sense," she said half-heartedly. "I haven't got the energy for other people to do that right now."

Angelo chuckled slightly. "How long've you been down here?"

She shrugged and glanced at the clock, thinking back to the end of her conversation with Jamie. That had been about -- "An hour or so, I think," she said. "Not that long."

Angelo nodded. "Yeah, sounds fair. You come down here a lot?"

She nodded. "More or less every day," she said, "if I'm in the state to do so."

"Yeah, I come down here when I can too. Every couple of days at least, and only that far apart when I'm busy. Not sure how we've managed to miss each other 'til now, actually."

"I'm usually the one down here at four in the morning. Nobody else wakes up early around here," she said, not really kidding.

Angelo nodded. "Not quite true, but those that do are usually out runnin' at that hour. Guess you're guaranteed quiet."

"Pretty much," she said, shrugging. "Quiet, solitude, something to do at four in the morning. I should go, though. I'm going to go run myself into the ground." She went toward the door, lifting a hand in farewell as she left.