Shattered Mirror By Yma

DISCLAIMER: This is like a mirror in an old antique shop. I can look at myself in the reflection free of cost, but I do not own the actual mirror myself.

THANKS TO: Scribbler, who bata read and checked this for me, and thus doing improved it beyond words. I owe ya, Scribbs!

WARNING! This story is rated R. It contains:

* A lot of swearing

* Small references to sexual situations.

* Suggestions of some Taboo activities

* Adult concepts.

INFO: This story is told through first person, using a very strong 'voice.' The grammar and spelling have altered accordingly to accommodate these 'voices.'

All reviews shall be accepted, nursed and cherished like surrogate children.

And now... onwards!

Shard 1: Lance

By the time I get back it's ten. Work finishes at nine, but there's always some fucking idiot who comes at eight fifty, demanding to be served. By the time I've done that, cleaned up, and fought my way though the traffic, it's around ten. My head's hurting so much it's as if someone's pushing against the inside of my skull.

It's like a physical pressure, you know. When I lose my temper, earthquakes happen, and the pressure breaks out. So at work I hold it all in. No matter how much some fucker's messing me around, I hold in the anger, hold in the pressure. By the end of the day my head's wrecked. Still, I suppose it's better than turning the shop into a pile of rubble. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'd love to see the Kwik-E-Mart as a smoking heap of stone and ruins,

but I can't. Gotta work. Gotta get money.

My life sucks, sometimes. But it's been worse. At least I've got some control over stuff now; I'm living with guys who depend on me, rather than the other way around, like it was in care.

I hate being dependent on anyone.

But I suppose that's what's happened anyway.

So I get in, see the usual scene - Freddy sitting on the couch watching TV.

He looks up at me as I enter, grins, and then turns back to the show. I don't notice what he's watching. It doesn't matter. Freddy will watch almost any crap. Instead, I ask where everyone is.

"Wanda's gone to bed, Pietro left over an hour ago, and Todd ain't been back since he went out at lunch."

"So it's just us again, big guy," I say, because this situation's become familiar. The Brotherhood members seem to come and go, but Freddy remains stationary - the unmovable Blob.

"Any food in? I'm starving."

"Yup. You want me to fix you something?"

Once again, that's Freddy all over. Only two things move him - food and violence. When you get down to it, he's not such a bad guy.

"Thanks," I say, and watch as he gets off to make me some grub.

I try to watch the crap on TV. I switch the channels a few times, but there's nothing on. Hell, I don't think I could concentrate on TV at the moment anyway. Too tired, my head hurts too much, and I've got other things bugging me.

Freddy says he'll make me something simple, cheese on toast and baked beans.

He's actually a real good cook, can do some awesome stuff with food, but I haven't been paid yet, so money's a little thin on the ground. Truth be told, I'm surprised we've got anything by this time, but somehow Freddy manages to make the cash and grub last. Somehow.

Anyway, I'm not into watching TV at the moment, so I tell Freddy I'm going upstairs, ask him to bring it up to me. Going up the rotten staircase, I'm careful to avoid the creakier floor boards, trying to be quiet. I don't wanna wake up Wanda, since she's not a girl you piss off lightly.

Speaking of which...

When I get into my room I go straight towards the piece of splintering wood that's my wardrobe and grab the cell phone hidden in one of the draws.

It ain't the best model or nothing - hell, it's an old piece of junk - but it works. I pay the tariff out of my own wage, and yeah, I could use the landline, woulda been cheaper, but I don't want anyone else to know about this.

See, it's Todd who sorts out the bills in this place, and if he sees who I'm phoning it'll be all over the Brotherhood house in a second. Oh yeah, I earn the money to pay the bills, but I don't sort them out. I'm too busy working most of the time, Quickie can never be assed, Wanda doesn't have a clue, and

Freddy's just to damn stupid.

So that leaves Todd.

Not that he does pay the bills, mind you. Not all of them, at least. The amount of money still in our savings is proof of that. Somehow the slime ball fiddles the figures, or does something shady to fool the IRS. I don't ask what, I don't want to know, but I'm guessing Toad's had experience with this kind of thing before. He knows all the loop holes, so he uses them. Fuck, the little shit has gotta be useful for something, after all.

Not that I'm that grateful - it's only a temporary thing after all. It don't matter how much Toad wheels and deals, he's going to be found out one day, and that's the day the cops will come knocking on our door.

That's the last thing any of us want.

So Todd 'Parasite' Tolensky can fool the government all he wants for now, but I know I'm going to have to find a way to get more dough in to pay the bills properly, or we'll all be fucked.

Such is the life of the Leader of the Brotherhood.

But that's not what worries me now, though fuck knows it should. No, despite all this shit I'm worried about one small, Illinois girl.

Kitty Pryde.

It's her I phone on the cell. I listen to the mansion's phone ring.

At about the third tone I get the wining voice of one Kurt Wagner, a.k.a. the dumbest, freakiest bastard ever to walk the planet.

"Tag! This is the Xavier Institute, how can I help you?"

God, will you listen to that voice? 'Theeeezzzz eeeez zeee ehxzavieerrrr

eeensteeetueeeet!' Sounds like he's been castrated. What a gimp.

"Hello," I say, making my voice just a little deeper, "this is Mr Pryde, can

I talk to my daughter, please?"

"Sure. Kitty! It's your father!"

There's a pause. I hear Kitty thank Kurt, and a few hollow clicking sounds as the phone exchanges hands.

"Hi Dad!" Kitty says at last. "What are you calling me for? I thought you were in Japan?"

"Hey, Pretty-Kitty, it's me. Sorry, but I had to say I was your dad or -"

"Lance! You jerk!"

"Hey, Kitty -"

"I don't want to hear it! I'm sick of you calling me! I already told you, it's over!"

"But you won't even give me a chance to -"

"I gave you every chance!" Her voice is wobbly over the phone line, close to

tears. "But you just wouldn't change. I tried to see the best in you, but there isn't a best. You're... you're only a thug; just like the rest of the Brotherhood!'

"That ain't fair! We're just doing our best to survive. At least we're not smug-ass geeks like the rest of *your* team!"

"Oh, go jerk yourself off, Lance. I don't care."

"Wait! Kitty, no, I'm sorry, I -"

"It's too late for sorry, Lance."

"Wait, Kitty, I can explain -"

Suddenly the line goes dead; someone disconnected the phone, probably that

Wagner sneak. He can go fuck himself with his own tail.

Thinking this, I throw the phone across the room. Dumb move. It ain't shatter resistant and it smashes as it hits the wall. Fuck, now I have no

cell.

Then again, that's my temper for you. I do the best I can to control it but sometimes it just spills out, destroying everything.

It's not fair. It's not my fault we chose different teams; not my fault we're not as loaded as the X-men. I don't understand how she can stay with them, bunch of stiff necked bastards that they are.

There are a lot of things I don't understand.

Like why I still care about her when she's dumped me.

Like why I keep wanting to call her, even though it could never work.

Like why everyone here looks at me, like I'm the strong guy or something.

Like why they look at me like I'm a leader.

Fuck, I'm still just a kid. I try to take care of them all, try to keep food and money up, but I can't do it alone, you know? I'm not that good.

Anyway, isn't Pietro supposed to be the head honcho now? Fat lot of good he does. Yeah, he might be the leader of the 'Brotherhood', the leader of

Magneto's Acolytes-in-training, but I'm the leader of a bunch of kids who don't know how to fend for themselves.

I'm supposed to be the one in control, when I can't even hold onto my temper.

There's a knock on my door. It's Freddy with the food. If he heard anything then he doesn't mention it, just passes me my dinner, pats me on the shoulder, and leaves.

I eat what I can of the food, but it's not all that much. I'm not hungry anymore. It's like the empty pit in my stomach has moved over into my heart.

Lance Alvers, the guy who looks after everyone, moping over one dumb valley girl.

How the guys back at the foster homes would laugh at me now.

As soon as I finish, I get undressed and slip into bed, leaving what food is left on the plate to moulder. I'll take it downstairs later, or maybe I'll just leave it. It'll feed the bugs that Toad eats, so I guess it all comes full circle.

I lie in bed, listening to the distant chatter of Freddy's TV. I think I hear something else; the sound of a bedroom door opening, creaking floorboards, and then a door closes again. Probably Wanda. Wonder what she's up to?

I'm just dropping off when something else wakes me, someone coming in... it's Todd. I can tell because of the slapping sound of his feet. He seems to be staggering. He comes upstairs, and a few minutes later I hear a retching sound in the bathroom, like he's throwing up, then he goes back downstairs for a few minutes.

It isn't hard to guess what he's been up to. Drinking. It's happened before;

I've heard him throwing up several times at night. Never would have guessed he'd be the drinking type, but then, what else has he got to escape with?

Poor little slug's got it hard, that's for sure.

Wish I knew where he got the liquor from. I'm guessing he steals it. He'd better be stealing it, 'cos if he's using the money *I* earned, then I'll pound him into the ground.

He comes back upstairs again, still staggering. He doesn't go to his room, though. Instead he just stops in the hallway. Probably listening to Wanda's door again, I think. Little creep has a real fixation over her. So far it's pretty harmless, but it could turn into something nastier, and if it does... well, I don't know. I doubt he could beat Wanda in any fair fight, though. Or Pietro. And certainly not her dad. If he gave a shit, that is.

Eventually, he moves on; into his own room I guess, and things go quiet again.

I wake up a little later - don't know how long, there's no clock in here except my watch and I can't see the dials on it without light. Freddy's turned the volume up on the TV, which must be what's woken me. I stumble out of bed, meaning to go and tell him to turn it the fuck down.

When I open my door to the empty hallway I notice something. Pietro's bedroom door is open. That never happens; he always locks his door, always. And only two people have the key, him and his sister... OK, and Mystique who has the master key, but she ain't likely to be calling round here anytime soon.

So, Pie-Pie snuck out and left the door open.

Wonder what he's up to? Probably scheming with his daddy dearest, the little shit. I hated Pietro the first day I met him. Now I loathe him, but he's our only ticket out of this hellhole, our only real hope, and if we pound him then Maggie and his Cajun crony will be banging on our door. So we gotta go with him. But I swear, if he double-crosses us again then all the speed in the world won't save him.

I stay in the hallway for a few seconds, wondering what to do next. If Pietro's talking to his dad on the phone then Freddy and Todd must be in on it, too, because Freddy's down there now, and Todd pays the bills, like I said.

Maybe he left earlier, in which case Todd wouldn't know and Freddy might not have noticed him leave. Or maybe something else it going on.

Maybe I just don't give a fuck.

I'm tired, angry, and hurting. I'm sick of having to second guess everyone,

having to be the leader, having to be the thinker, not the doer. Having to be the strong one, the one they all look to in one way or another.

So I got back to bed, close my eyes, and let the drone of the over-loud TV send me to sleep. There's no use in stressing about what Pietro's up to.

I've got enough things to worry about.