This story is rated K.

*peeks out from under the rock that she's been hiding under for the past two years* Oh, hey there. So, uh, I started this fic way back in 2010 or 2011 and, after spending a weekend binge-watching the entirety of "X-Men: Evolution," finally finished it tonight. Due to the five- or six-year gap between writing the first 65% and the remaining 35%, the writing style in this story most likely changes roughly two-thirds of the way through. If it does, please forgive me. That's my fault for leaving this fic unattended for so long. (And, um, I might not have proofread it too carefully before uploading it. *cough*)

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it despite the flaws that it probably has. The show might be dead, but the WATX love lives on in our hearts! xo

A Chocolate Sundae and a Root Beer Float

Moonlight streamed through the windows, painting a white path upon the corridor's red carpeting. Wanda followed it silently to the other side of the family wing, where Lorna's door stood at the far end of the hallway.

It was so quiet tonight—eerily quiet. Or maybe the day's events had jarred her more than she'd realized. If Kurt hadn't shown up when he had…she didn't want to think about what might've happened.

Drawing her robe closer around her, she made her way to the end of the hallway and stopped. She raised her knuckles to the door.

She hesitated. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Lorna had made it clear that she didn't want to talk about what had happened with that thief—with that Remy LeBeau. Wanda had tried asking her once they'd returned to the palace, but Lorna had only responded by yelling "I said, I don't want to talk about it!" then locking herself in her room for the rest of the evening. The last thing Wanda wanted to do right now was rile her younger sister further by "trying to act like Mother," as Lorna sometimes called it when Wanda took an interest in what she did.

But still…

Regardless of whether Lorna threw herself crying into her arms or screamed at her to leave her alone, at least Wanda would know she was all right.

Gently, she knocked on the door.

"Lorna? Lorna?"

No answer.

She knocked again. "Lorna, it's me. May I come in?"

When Lorna didn't respond, Wanda tried the doorknob—it was unlocked now—and opened the door.

She'd expected to hear crying or more yelling once she'd entered the bedroom, but instead she heard nothing—nothing but the sound of the sea breeze blowing in through the open window.

"Lorna?" Wanda tried again as she made her way to the canopied bed situated against the far wall.

She pulled back the drapery and peered into the dark.

"Lorna?"

Placing one hand on the bed, she leaned over and began to pat the covering for a warm body.

She found none.

Just as panic started to bind her chest, the memory of finding Lorna's window open earlier that evening flashed through her mind.

The window was open now.

Running across the room, Wanda grabbed the window sill, leaned out, and looked about the courtyard, eyes peeled for the slightest movement.

"Lorna!"she yelled. "Lorna!"

Only the rustling of the wind through the rosebushes answered her.

"Oh no," she breathed.

Whirling around, Wanda ran from the bedroom, back down the hall, and down the spiral stairs. Father wasn't here, but someone—Pyro, Senyaka, Mellancamp, any one of the other guards—had to be.

The fastest way from the east side of the mansion to front door, where at least one guard was always posted, was through the dining area. Cutting a sharp right, she raced past the spacious dining hall to the far end of the corridor where the kitchen door stood and yanked it open.

Half of the kitchen lights were on, casting a bright sheen upon the room's metal interior.

When Wanda's eyes adjusted, she noticed a figure sitting at the long island in the middle.

"Lorna!" she exclaimed.

Lorna didn't answer. She just stared back, a bottle of chocolate syrup in her hand poised over a bowl of ice cream.

"It's one in the morning," Wanda said, walking towards her. "Why aren't you in bed? You know Father doesn't like you staying up this late."

"Father's not here," Lorna replied as she jammed a spoon into the ice cream.

Wanda sat at the stool beside her. "That doesn't give you the right to disobey him."

"What are you going to do? Tell on me?"

"No," she said. "I just want to know what you're doing out of bed at this hour."

"I'm eating ice cream."

"I can see that. I mean, why are you down here? Why aren't you asleep?"

Lorna sighed, meshing the vanilla balls into the syrup.

"I couldn't sleep," she said.

Wanda regarded her sister carefully as she stared down at the bowl. The bright light accented the red puffiness around her eyes and the creases of her frown.

Sighing, Wanda looked away. "Me neither."

A row of metal cups stacked along the east counter caught her eye. She stared at them a few minutes, listening only to the buzzing of the overhead lights and the clanging of the spoon against the bowl, before an idea struck her. She looked back at Lorna and smiled.

"Say, pass me one of those, would you?" she said, pointing to the cups.

Giving her a quizzical look, Lorna waved her hand. One of the cups lifted off its stack, twisted upright, and floated straight into Wanda's outstretched hand.

"Thanks," she said.

She set the cup on the counter, grabbed the ice cream carton from beside Lorna, and scooped a big ball into the cup.

"What are you doing?" Lorna asked.

"Making a root beer float," Wanda replied as she pulled a liter of soda from the refrigerator.

"A what?"

"A root beer float. I haven't had one since I was a little girl."

Uncapping the bottle, she steadily filled the cup until the white ball bobbed against the rim.

Lorna curled her lip. "That looks gross."

"No, it's not. It's really good." Wanda slid the cup to her. "Go on, try it."

Stirring the float a few times, Lorna scooped some of the foam forming on the surface onto the spoon and hesitantly placed it in her mouth. She made a face.

"Ulgh! Tastes gross, too."

Wanda laughed. "If you think that's gross, wait till you hear what Pietro used to do to his ice cream. When we lived in New York, Father would take us to the ice cream stand around the corner every weekend, and Pietro always got the same thing—this giant pile of chocolate ice cream in a chocolate cone with chocolate syrup and sprinkles on top. And as soon as we'd get home, he'd crunch up potato chips and sprinkle them on it. He said it was "the cone every kid dreamed about." Father—"

She paused when she noticed her sister wasn't laughing along. In fact, she looked more miserable than she had when Wanda had first entered the kitchen.

"Penny for your thoughts?" she asked gently.

Lorna sighed. "You wouldn't understand."

"Try me."

"It's just…you and Pietro have done so much, seen so many places. And me…the only place I've ever been is here."

Wanda frowned. "What's wrong with Genosha?"

"Nothing. But, I want to see more than just Genosha. I'm tired of never getting to go anywhere or do anything. Father doesn't even let me go outside the palace walls without an escort."

"He's only trying to protect you, Lorna."

"I know that, but I'm not a child anymore—I don't need him to protect me."

Wanda scoffed. If tonight had proved anything, it was how much protection Lorna needed. But now was not the time to say so; instead, Wanda placed her hand upon her sister's shoulder.

"I want to show you something," she said, standing up.

Lorna gave her a confused look but followed all the same. They walked through the kitchen door and the dining area until they reached the spiral staircase. Once at the top, Wanda led Lorna to the east balcony. The moonlight threw the shadows of the support columns across the metal balcony in big, black, parallel bars.

"Why are we up here?" Lorna asked.

Resting one hand on the balcony, Wanda beckoned her to her side. "Look," she said, pointing outward. "What do you see?"

Lorna's eyes followed her outstretched hand. She shrugged. "I don't know."

"The only place in the world where mutants—where we can live without fear of being hated or feared. A safe haven, a paradise for people like us—all built by our own father," Wanda says, turning her own eyes to the metal column, spirals, and towers that twisted together to form the city before them, all pointed sharply toward the sky like the swords and heads of the spears that the palace guards and patrolmen sometimes carried. She placed her hand on her sister's shoulder. "This is his life's work, Lorna. This is his legacy, as are we."

Lorna shrugged her hand off. "I knew you wouldn't understand," she said, stomping towards the staircase.

"Lorna!" Wanda called after her. "Lorna!"

Her sister stopped mid-way across the balcony.

"Please," Wanda said to the back of her head. "I'm trying so hard to understand. What is so wrong with Genosha? What's wrong with your family wanting you to stay where you don't ever have to face the cruelty that we've had to face?" When Lorna didn't reply, Wanda crossed her arms and said, "It's that Remy LeBeau, isn't it? He said something to you, didn't he? Lorna, men like—people like him are the reason why you need to stay here—"

"Shut up!" Lorna screamed, spinning around, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You don't know anything about it, so just shut up!"

"Then tell me so I will know!" Wanda snapped back.

"I don't want to be some stupid legacy! I want to have my own life! I want to have my own experiences! I don't want to waste it being just the sweet, little princess of your and Father's precious paradise!"

"You don't think there are places I'd like to go, or things I'd like to do? But I have obligations. Father wanted me to be here, so this is where I need to be, just like Pietro is where he needs to be. He doesn't want to be there, but he recognizes that his place is where Father wants him to be. We all have our places, and ours are here, whether you like it or not."

Lorna stared at her wide-eyed a moment before more tears gushed from her eyes.

"Lorna," Wanda said, taking a step towards her. "Lorna, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

Lorna stepped back, shaking her head as she wiped away the tears with the sleeve of her robe. "He said—he said a cage is still a cage even if it looks like a palace," she said, looking away to the side of the balcony that overlooked the ocean. Where she stood, two black bars of shadow framed her face like the prongs of a vice. "Remy did. And he was right."

"Oh, Lorna," was all Wanda could say. She went to take another step toward her sister, to put her arms around her and hold her and tell her everything would be okay, just the way Mother would do for her, Wanda, and Pietro when they were young and Father was away, tending to his business—to his vision—but she stopped.

Instead, all she did was say, "Genosha is the only place in the world that accepts mutants for who they are. If you left, there's no telling what would happen to you."

"The X-Men seem to get along just fine," said Lorna.

"That's the X-Men. That isn't us."

"Yeah, well," Lorna said, turning towards the stairs. "Maybe we should try being more like them."

As Lorna made her way down the stairs, Wanda rested a hand upon the balcony and, despite having many things that she'd like to say to her sister, settled for only a sigh. When she looked up, she did not turn her gaze to the blade-like points of Genosha, which threw their own black bars of shadow across the island, but to the ocean, like Lorna had. Wanda didn't like to admit it, not even to herself, but lately…ever since she'd met Kurt…she'd been thinking the exact same thing.

If I had my way, Season 2 (God rest its precious soul) would have included Lorna running away, bumping into Remy again, and settling into her place with the X-Men...where she'd meet Bobby, who'd also be nursing a broken heart courtesy of Kitty starting a little something-something with the newly returned Piotr, and, well...you know. ;D

Anyway, reviews are most appreciated! (They probably won't motivate me to write any quicker or more frequently, but I do love reading them and your all's thoughts on the stuff that I come up with. -C)