3| Diamond [Pietro M.]

05. Abnormalities

Sam is the first to reach the back door of the cabin. He pries it open before stepping aside so Steve and I can enter first. As I pass Wilson, I shoot him a smile to which he mirrors. Wilson and I don't speak much, but when we do it's usually sarcastic in nature. But nice. We get along well. He's such a cool guy that talking about any subject just feels natural. I'm glad he's on our side. Sam's like that voice of reason there to talk you down. But if there's no way to do that, he just goes along with the flow to make sure you don't get yourself killed. That's probably why he and Steve are best friends. They balance each other out.

"How many eggs this morning?" I hear Carter question the boys from the corner of the cabin where he's sitting at his desk sketching. His usual afternoon activity. I can't say I'm surprised.

"Eleven." I respond in a hoarse tone which sends the room plunging into a deafening silence. My eyes grow wider as all eyes turn to me. I get their surprise, I do, but it's unnerving to have all attention on you. To be watched so closely. I give a tense smile, turn away from the gazes of my peers, and place the eggs in a small basket with a towel inside it. Steve comes up beside me and follows my actions before gently patting my shoulder. I, for the first time, don't flinch away from direct intentional contact. Sure, my muscles tense up just a bit...but that's expected. It is, however, exciting also. In terms of returning to being myself, I'm moving from baby steps to normal steps.

"How are you feeling today, Iris?" Carter questions after looking back down to his parchment. It's the first question he's asked me directly in awhile. The eyes of the rest of the team remain trained on me, so I focus on the older man instead. The proposed question is rather simple but considering my current state the inquiry is complex. It's a harder question for me to answer than it would be for anyone else. My eyebrows pull together while my lips quirk into a tense, lopsided line. I'm fighting for the correct words as the air around me grows heavy with dread. I can only assume my extended silence has caused my friends to think I've reverted back to silence already.

"I'm alive." I finally respond. I don't know how else to put it. I'm not distressed but I'm not relaxed either. I'm not mournful or sad but I'm not pleased or happy either. It's the strangest feeling. It's like an odd neutral that just doesn't feel right.

"I am glad you're alive." Carter ruefully states with a small smile. It feels like he understands what I'm thinking and feeling. He doesn't push for more. Doesn't even bombard me with more 'simple' questions.

"Me too." I murmur and shove my hands into the pockets of my pants. Another tense silence ensues. The room feels stuffy with anxiousness and unvoiced questions. It nearly overwhelms me as I begin to wonder if I can slip out of the cabin and retreat to the barn for some dead silence.

"Hey, Iris," Scott pipes up with a wonky smile and excitement rolling off of him. Upon being addressed, I lift my gaze from the floor so I can look across the living room at him. "-oh -uh - hey, are your eyes alright?" The elation quickly flees like air escaping a deflating balloon. My eyebrows scrunch together as I cautiously tilt my head at Lang. Expecting to find blood leaking from the corners of my eyes, I remove one of my hands from my pocket to gently wipe the skin over my cheekbones. When I remove my hand to evaluate my fingertips, I find nothing. I cast him a questioning look.

"Let me see." Carter grumbles as he hobbles over from his writing desk, his cane gently tapping the wood floors. Once he's within arm's reach of me, he shoves the cane into the hands of Steve, who stands nearby. Oh, the irony. I'd probably laugh if it wasn't for Carter reaching up and grabbing the sides of my face. He pulls my face to his eye-level, forcing me to lean down. I nervously watch as Carter's eyes dart back and forth across my face, a scowl firmly in place on his lips. "Iris." His voice is so low, accusing even, that it feels like my heart will stop beating within my chest. I clench my jaw and swallow with difficulty. The two of us maintain eye-contact. Slowly, hesitantly, he begins to release my face so I can straighten. He then takes his cane back from Steve and leans on it while the cogs of his mind twirl behind his eyes. "What color were your eyes originally -- before you received your abilities?" His voice is unwavering and calm as he questions me.