Friendships and Alliances, a MARVEL Fanfic

Meet Amara

"Is Professor-cough cough-Professor Alistaire here? I-cough cough-need to-cough COUGH-" the large gates that Peter stood outside of started to swing open, and Peter fell to the ground, coughing. "Hey!" Peter heard someone shout. "Amara, help me!" Peter wrapped his arms around his aching chest as two people took his arms and heaved him to his unsteady feet. "Come on up, come on..." A girl's voice said. He tried to answer but he was so tired...he tried to walk but another coughing fit wracked his emaciated body. He couldn't feel his legs, only his chest, and his arms where the two people gripped him and held him upright. He suddenly couldn't think. He passed out.

"Huh?" He awoke on a soft couch, a cup of cold tea next to his hand. Coughing hard, but not as badly as before, he tried to sit up. He fell back, exhausted, but then someone was helping him, propping a pillow underneath his head. "How do you feel?" The girl asked. Peter realized that she was one of the people who'd helped him inside the day before-the week? He didn't know how long he'd been out. "Better I guess." He said. Reaching back, he realized his hair was tied into a ponytail. "Why is my hair...?" He wondered out loud. The girl stepped into his view, and shrugged. "You were overheating. We were trying to cool you off." He yanked the band out of his hair irritably. "Thanks. Where-" he turned his head to look around at what looked like a living room; a pair of couches, a coffee table, a tall dim lamp, and a TV on top of a cabinet. "-Where am I?" "Professor Alistaire's School for Gifted Youngsters. Much smaller population than the school you came from." The girl sat on the other couch, feet up on the table. Her thick-soled boots were leather. "How much smaller?" He asked, and coughed. "Calm down. You've been sick for two days." "Two whole days?" The girl nodded. "Yeah. I'm taking care of you." She motioned to the cold tea. "That'll help your throat." "It's cold." The girl snorted. "You're such a baby." She said, taking the mug. She held it over her left hand and clicked her fingers. They sparked, and a blue flame appeared in her palm and spread so it cloaked her hand. "Here. Careful-it's hot." She handed it back to him, and he watched the steam curl off of the liquid. "So, what's your name?" She jumped down onto the couch next to him, and rested her elbows on her thighs, looking at him with blue eyes. "Peter Maximoff. Or Quicksilver." He answered, trying to show off. "Yours?" " Amara Aquilla. Magma." Amara answered. "Cool." After a silence, Peter asked, "Why didn't I know about this place?" Amara shrugged. "I don't know. We have a small population, about 80 mutants. Well, now 81." She looked pointedly at Quicksilver. He nodded, and then coughed hard. "S-sorry." He said. "Don't apologize." She said. Her short blond hair glimmered in the lamplight as she sat beside him. "You were really sick. I was worried." Peter snorted. "Why were you worried?" "There are too few mutants as it is. And besides, you're cute. And your hair..." She ran her fingers through it and he just managed to stifle a moan. Her hand drew back-"I'm sorry." She muttered, getting up. "It's okay," he called after her, but she was gone.