A/N: While this started as a Christmas gift for MidnightNimh, it ended up just being...Something else. I mean, really, I don't know what this is anymore. I still think it came out nicely, just not what I had intended. I hope everyone still enjoys it! Especially you, Nimh!
You're nothing but a no good, rotten hood!
The words echo in Lance's mind, over and over again. Each time louder than the last. Each time with more force that the first. But, even if the tone changes and the volumes grows until it feels like his head is about to explode, the fact that they're true doesn't change. The fact that Kitty, his Kitty, said them doesn't change. No matter how much he wants them too.
A rotten hood!
He rolls over on his lumpy mattress and throws an arm over his eyes. It's late and he should be asleep. He would be asleep, if only she would quit shouting. If only her words were just that - words said out of anger and nothing else. Words that, by tomorrow morning, will be forgotten and forgiven.
But they aren't. Those words, they are the same ones that have haunted him his whole life.
Hood.
His father, the day that his mutant powers surfaced.
Hood.
Janice Murk, the woman that ran the foster home he was put into.
Hood.
Michal Burkes, the man in charge of the juvi hall he was sent to when he was just fifteen.
Hood.
And now they've been said again. Only this time, it hurts far worse. Kitty is Kitty and Lance has always taken everything that she's said to heart. This time is no different.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
"You look like crap, dawg." Todd says the moment Lance walks into the living room of the Boarding House, from his spot on their worn out couch.
Lance grunts at him and rubs at his eyes. They itch and sting and he knows they're probally red too. Maybe even swollen. They feel like they are. Like opening them all the way is an impossible feat; one that he isn't even planning on trying.
The younger mutant pulls his legs towards his body and nods at Lance. "It's way too early for you to be up doing stuff, yo. Why don't 'cha sit for a bit?"
"What time is it?" Lance questions, glancing up at the grandfather clock that stands dust covered in the corner. It hasn't worked in years, stuck on 2:17, but the earth user always checks it when he asks for the time. It's habit even though he doesn't know why.
"Only 'round six, dawg." Todd says, using one of his bare feet to pat the empty cushion. "Like I said, sit down and chill for a bit."
The older mutant pauses. Looks from the clock over to Todd. Then he hears her voice again, practically screaming in his mind, and he shakes his head.
"I'm going for a drive." Lance tells the younger boy. And then he's snatched the keys from their spot by the front door and dissapearing into the mist-hazed morning.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
Driving has always cleared Lance's head. It's a way for him to escape from reality and responsibilities. A way to leave everyone else in the dust and just go - far and fast and maybe even a little recklessely.
So far, eight gallons of hard to come by gas wasted and miles gone by, it hasn't helped a lick.
As he drives and the scenary flashes past, all he can think about is the day before. How the simple fight in the parking lot of the school, one so like all the others the X-Men and the Brotherhood had been in, escalated and got out of control. The look on Kitty's face when Lance fought back for real against Scott; because that was real blood he'd seen dripping down Pietro's arm and no one harmed his brothers and got away with it. And the sound of her voice at the end of the fight, when she put a hand on the bespectacled mutant's shoulder to steady him, and called him the one thing that he'd never thought she would say.
Nothing but a dirty hood!
Lance can feel the tears start pricking at the corners of his eyes again. He doesn't even attempt to blink them back. He knows that won't work. Instead he narrows his eyes, clenches his hands even harder around steering wheel, hard enough that his fingers crack and his knuckles all turn white, and he slams his foot down on the gas as hard as he can.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
Lance doesn't return to the boarding house until late that night. He skips school and work and, when he finally slams the door open and storms inside of the cold house, he feels none the better for it. In fact, he feels a whole lot worse.
It isn't because he skipped school. That's something that he does frequently, though he always insists that the rest of the Brotherhood go every single day. He knows that he'll never get anywhere in life, with or without an education. Too many people know that he's a mutant already. Even if they didn't, his record will keep him from getting any sort of a decent job.
The others, he tells himself, still have a chance at getting work and getting out of Bayville.
But he skipped work and he shouldn't have. Too many times of doing that and they'll fire him. And that can't happen because they need the money he brings in from that, measely as it may be. Mystique may be paying the bills but that's about all that she's doing. He is the true bread-maker of the family. The reason that they all stay fed, clothed, and living a somewhat decent life.
He knows this.
The other members of the Brotherhood knows this.
No one has ever said it outloud. No one needs to.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
Days pass by slowley. Then weeks. Time drags by and things change.
Just like they always do.
By the two-week mark after the blow-out, Kitty watches him as he walks into the cafeteria. Lance knows his eyes are rimmed red, though that's from lack of sleep and nothing else, and he knows he's being watched. So he pulls himself up to his full height, forces his face into the most steely expression he can muster at that moment, and doesn't so much as look in Kitty's direction as he crosses over to the table that the rest of the Brotherhood are already sitting at.
Her words echo in his mind.
Three weeks into it and both Kitty and Rouge are in the Vice Prinicipal's office with him when he finds out. Mystique is no longer Principle of Bayville High. The X-Men girls already knew. Lance didn't. It hits him like a punch to the gut - because the new Principle, a man named Kelly, tells him that funding for the Boarding House will be cut off. Permantly.
It pierces him like a knife.
By the fourth week, everyone in Scott's fancy corvette watches him as he pulls up in front of the school. The jeep sputters and coughs as the rest of the Brotherhood files out. Lance doesn't even look at them as he checks the mirror, then backs his precious car up. Leaves the school and heads for work instead. It isn't just a part-time job anymore.
Twisting and turning and digging.
Almost a month and a half after that one, fateful day, an entire team of X-Men watch as Lance once more walks into the cafeteria. He stands as tall as he can but his face is pulled tight in a grimace of pain. His eyes show nothing but weariness. When he stumbles, because everything has become a blurr and the whole world seems topsy-turvy, two people leap from their seats to steady him. But it is not Kitty who makes it there first - it is Todd, because he's been watching Lance all day and knew that he was going to fall sooner or later and he wanted to be sure there was someone there to catch him.
And he is so sick of them.
When the two month mark hits, Kitty tries to talk to Lance. Find out what's going on. She can't find him anywhere. He isn't showing up for school. There aren't any fights. Eventually, she goes and asks Mrs. Dennis Trow, his home-room teacher, where he is. She tells Kitty that Lance has dropped out of school.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
The shadows of the night seem to engulf everything in the Boarding House. All of the lights are off, like they normally are. There is no radio. No television. Just silence and darkness and the almost tangible worry that fills Todd everytime he wakes up and Lance isn't around; something that happens more and more often lately, ever since Mystique up and vanished on them almost three months ago.
Insomnia has always plagued Todd. From both his mutation and the nightmares that haunt him, ever floating around and around in his mind, a full nights sleep is something that he has never gotten. Will probably never get one, especially now that there is a new dream flitting around in both his sleeping and his waking mind.
A dream in which Lance never comes home. Where the older mutant, Todd's bravest and strongest brother, goes to work. Earns a crappy days pay, one that barely buys one meal for the Brotherhood, and just up and dies before he ever returns home.
And this dream, this nightmare, is almost more real than any other that Todd has had before.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
When Lance gets home, it is to see Todd curled up on the couch. The younger mutant has an unlit ciggarette in one hand, thin dextile fingers rolling it back and forth. The other hand is clutching the pack that it came out of - tight enough that greenish skin is turned white and the paper packaging has started to bend and crumple.
It makes the earth-user's heart clench. If he weren't so tired, then he would have yelled at the other boy. Because nicotine has a different effect on Todd than it does everyone else. It's worse for Todd than it is any other person, old or young. And Lance doesn't usually allow the cancer-sticks in the house because of that.
Tonight, though, Lance is just too tired to get into a fight with Todd. So he puts a hand on the small boy's shoulder, gives a barely there frown, and then just heads up the stairs to his bed.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
It has been almost three months since the last time Kitty spoke to Lance. It has not been easy, nor has it been enjoyable. But they have gotten through it, just like they always have. They have tightened their already tight belts and cut back - on food and water and time spent out of the house.
It is expected that something is going to break because something always does. For once, though, it is for the better.
Lance is in his room, laying on the top of his unmade bed. He is still in the uniform he wears to work, a grey-green collared tee-shirt and a pair of black jeans, but doesn't plan on changing any time soon. He pulled a double the night before and doesn't plan on doing much of anything this day.
But his mind cannot just let him relax. It cannot let him get sleep while he can. Instead, it swirls with worries. Christmas is in two weeks and there is nothing in the house. There isn't enough money to pay the heating bill. There isn't enough money to buy food. There isn't enough time or energy for Lance to take on another job or an extra shift - and he refuses to let the other members of the Brotherhood, the rest of his family, to quit school and give up their chance at a real life because he can't support them.
Closing his eyes, Lance rests the back of his hand against his forhead. The ever-present headache is worse today than it has been for a while. He didn't have money to buy medicine for it.
As he lays there and worries and thinks and tries to come up with a solution, Lance's mind goes back to Kitty. It always does. Her words echo in his mind, twisting with the words printed on bills that he cannot afford to pay.
You're nothing but a no good hood!
And he hears more words with them.
Useless -
Freak -
Let down -
Can't even keep them safe -
Have to pay -
Running out of time -
Hungry -
Cold -
Always a hood -
But it does not stab at his heart like it used to. It doesn't make his eyes tears up, doesn't make him wonder what he did wrong or what he could do to change it. It makes him angry. Furious, even. He had given Kitty everything he had and then some! He had done everything he could to keep her safe and happy, even when it caused tension in his own house! He had been going to ask her to marry him!
It is this last thought that pushes everything else out of his mind.
For three long, hard months Lance had squandered away change and hoarded his portion of the money Todd stole. Three days before the arguement, he had gone out and bought a small diamond ring. It wasn't fancy, but it had meaning. He had never gotten to give it to her.
Now, he knows that he never will.
XXX_XXX_XXX_XXX
Christmas Day comes with a dreary dawn. The sky is mottled with grey and the clouds promise rain later. Nature seems to be mimiking the mood of those in the Brotherhood house - who have already made their way downstairs and scattered to their normal haunts. There is no Christmas celebration for them.
Tabby and Freddy sit in the kitchen, at the table. There isn't much food in the house and, mose days, they just skip breakfast. Today is not an exception, but the young girl wanted to feel like there was a Christmas breakfast sprawled out on the table and so she insisted on sitting there. Freddy is just keeping her company.
Todd and Pietro are curled up together on the couch, several heavy blankets over top of them. Niether mutant does well with the cold and, with the heat turned off, this is the only way they can be even slightly comfortable. Todd has a lit ciggarette sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Pietro is ignoring it - because, while it isn't good for the younger mutant, it is a way to cope and the speedster certainly understands that.
They sit like this until the sun is high in the sky and then it is only the interuption of the front door opening that draws them away from their thoughts.
Lance is standing in the door way, a soft smile on his tired face, two large paper bags in his arms. The smile looks out of place, having not been there for months, and the dark shadows under his eyes offset it.
"Anyone up for some Christmas lunch?" Lance asks, stepping inside and nudging the door shut behind him.
Todd pushes himself up, the blankets sliding down onto his lap. The rush of cold air sends a shiver through him. "What's all that, dawg?"
Lance just smiles some more and walks into the kitchen. Sets both bags down onto the table and starts unpacking them. Canned ham and fresh rolls, canned greenbeans and canned mushroom soup, box mix stuffing - it isn't a fancy meal, but it is more food at once then they have had in weeks.
"How on Earth did you get all of this?" Tabby demands. She is thankful for the food but, if Lance has done something stupid for it, she will never forgive herself for enjoying it.
"It's fine, Tabs." Lance assures. "I just got over some old things. I know it's not much or anything, but I wanted to make sure we had some money left over for other things. Bills and stuff."
"It's great, Lance." Freddy tells him, already getting chipped plates and tarnished silverware down. "Real great."