Author's note: Thank you to TReneeM, kmj1989, gossamermouse101, wolfimus prime, The Redshirt who Lived, and anonymouscsifan for the reviews!

Today's chapter is rather dark. Lots of drama, maybe even a trigger warning in the second half? Just be warned, Vivien's not exactly going to be walking on sunshine in this one. So... wishing you all a merry Christmas? Reviews are welcome, and as always, thank you for reading!

An Island

The first thing I see when I come back around the building is James grinning sickeningly as he chokes the life out of a redheaded female X-Man- Marvel Girl, I think her name is.

Jesus, she's even younger than Myles is. She's also telekinetic, if my observations of her in the past are anything to go by.

What an awesome power to have. I know if I were her I'd be using that to toss a brick or something at my brother's stupid head, but I think the lack of oxygen has kinda made her presence of mind go out the window. Her eyes are bugging out of her head at this point and her hands are clutching uselessly against James' grip at her throat.

Marvel Girl is panicking, plain and simple, and my brother is trying to fucking kill her. Like she's Little Red Riding Hood and he's the Big Bad Wolf.

It breaks my heart to admit it, but right now I have no doubt who the bad guy in this situation is.

"Fox!" I shout. "Come on, let's go."

No reaction.

"Fox!" I snap, coming closer.

"One second," James says absently.

Oh for the love of God.

The fascinated look on his face reminds me of a kid burning ants to death under a magnifying glass. But instead of little bugs, my brother is watching, entranced, as a young girl turns blue at his hands.

I wish we weren't related, I want to say. For fuck's sake, right now I wish I didn't even know you, James.

"No," I hiss. I reach out and shove him. "Let's go, now."

James blinks, finally snapping out of it and looking at me.

But still not letting go of Marvel Girl.

"Did you set the bomb?" he asks.

"No," I reply. I can't take my gaze away from the poor girl dying in front of me, who's silently pleading for her life with her eyes. "Fox, let her go-"

"What? Why not?" he demands.

"There's people in there," I tell him. "Beast and Storm."

"So?"

"So, I'm not going to-"

"Dammit, Vixen!" James snarls.

He drops Marvel Girl, which is good, but he only does it because he's reaching for me like he wants to throttle me next. Not so good.

But fuck that. He'll have to catch me first.

I take off running, with James scrambling behind me.

"Let's go!" I shout to the other Brotherhood members as we pass by- let them think that we're trying to get clear of a blast zone, I don't care. Thankfully they immediately go into a full-blown retreat, following me.

Thank you, a soft, feminine voice suddenly whispers in my head as I run. Hearing that makes me almost piss myself in surprise.

What the fuck?

It takes me a second to realize that the voice was Marvel Girl. In my mind. Super fucking creepy, right?

Uh, you're welcome? I think uncertainly. I'm not really sure how this shit works. Now excuse me, running for my life here.

I've got enough of a head start that I'm able to make a running leap about fifteen feet up into a tree when we reach the rendezvous point, a small clearing where Magneto is waiting for us all.

"Vixen?" he queries, looking up at me. Damn, if I wasn't so freaked out right now I'd think the surprised look on his face was funny.

And then everyone else shows up.

Aw, fuck me. Right now I know exactly how a treed raccoon feels out in the bayou.

"Uh, what's going on?" Peter asks confusedly. "Vixie, why are you up there?"

"Get down here, Vivien," James yells up at me.

I bare my fangs at him. "Fat chance, asshole."

"Enough," Magneto snaps.

Oh, I'm so scared, big Boss Man.

"Explain yourselves, now."

"Vixen didn't set off that bomb, boss," James says quickly, before I can offer my own version of events. "She ignored orders and-"

"Right, I'm sorry I'm not a perfect little soldier who follows orders without question," I hiss down at him. "The situation changed, I had to adapt. I wasn't going to set off an explosion when there were people in that building-"

"X-Men," my brother retorts.

"Mutants!" I snarl back at him. "Our own kind!"

James shakes his head. "That doesn't matter, Vivien," he growls. "Sacrifices have to be made. We're going to do what needs to be done, even if that means taking out our own kind if they stand in our way."

He glances around hopefully at our teammates.

"Right, guys?"

"Right," Mastermind agrees.

Myles nods.

Ouch, that stung.

Peter and Wanda exchange a loaded look before the silver-haired twin speaks for them both. "They're soldiers, Vixie," he says, his expression pleading. "Sometimes soldiers are collateral damage."

Collateral damage?

The words come to me now, floating past the intervening months and how fucking pissed I was at the time.

Hank, telling me that "collateral damage" is just a term lazy people use to excuse themselves when their actions cause unnecessary pain and death.

Oh God. I understand now, Hank. I really do.

I'm probably a shitty person because I didn't get it until someone I consider to be a friend basically got called cannon fodder, but still. I realize now that that attitude isn't right.

But looking down at my teammate's faces, I know I'm in the minority with that opinion. My brothers and Mastermind are glaring daggers in my direction for the fuck up, and the twins look kinda worried for me. Magneto's staring up at me like I just failed some sort of test or something.

Jesus. I'm not just in the minority. I'm a fucking island.

You know how I said that there's a difference between being alone and being lonely? Well right now, I feel more lonely than I ever have in my entire life.

July 26, 1974

I keep to myself for a while after that rather eye-opening night.

It sucks to know that my teammates are perfectly fine with killing other mutants, especially for such a stupid reason. I mean, it's not like that building had a big strategic importance or anything, and all of them just kinda shrugged off the idea of people dying over it.

I don't agree with that. I can't, and I won't.

God, just thinking about it makes me pissed off all over again.

For that reason I find myself grumbling and kneading my biscuit dough with a bit too much gusto one Friday afternoon a few weeks later.

"What are you making?" asks an oily voice from the doorway that immediately puts my teeth on edge.

Oh great, it's Mastermind. Just what I needed to make my day absolutely perfect.

I don't like him, ok?

The way he looks at me- and Wanda, too- really creeps me out. Like we're something to eat, or he's undressing us with his eyes. It's just weird.

And then there's been a couple times where he tried to come into the bathroom while I was taking a shower. He pretended like he didn't know I was in there, but it doesn't take a genius to know that's a bullshit excuse, especially since the goddamn door was locked. Fucking pervert.

So I'm not exactly gracious with my answer. "Food," I reply shortly.

Mastermind harrumphs and steps farther into the kitchen, making my shoulders automatically tense.

For a few minutes he just stands there watching me in that creepy-ass mannequin way he does a lot. It makes my skin crawl, but because he's not really doing anything else I let it lie.

"Care to share?" he asks suggestively.

I snort in derision. "Uh, no?" I reply. I'm trying to sound as bitchy as possible on purpose, trust me.

But instead of heeding the obvious hint, Mastermind steps even closer. Like, I can feel his nasty breath stirring my hair. It's disgusting.

"Hey," I snarl, edging away. I turn to throw an elbow in his face. "Fuck off, you-"

I freeze as soon as my eyes meet his.

Mastermind grins. "You don't really mean that, do you?" he whispers.

I open my mouth to say yeah, actually, I really do, but then this weird sort of mist clouds my vision for a split second and that's definitely not what comes out.

"No," I reply, giggling coyly.

"That's what I thought," he says. And he makes that final step into my personal space, pinning me between the counter and his body.

But I don't panic.

Instead I smile and put my hands on his chest, provocatively pressing my hips to his. The idea of him taking me, right here, in this kitchen, sounds really hot. It has every muscle below the waist going all tight in anticipation and need.

I want this. I want him.

My hands trail down his shirt, down past the waistband of his pants to rest against his crotch, where I can feel his growing excitement.

"Are you sure you're not in a sharing mood?" he presses, chuckling. His hands come up to brush along my shoulders, sending sparks of desire down my skin. "Because I think you are."

Yes, yes I am. Why would I not be, with such a powerful, strong, sexy-

Wait, what was that?

Seriously, Mastermind is none of those things. He's a dirty old man and a big fat wuss and I hate his guts.

So why exactly am I groping him right now? There's no fucking way I'm doing this shit on purpose. This... this isn't real.

Which means-

I squeeze his junk, hard, and start twisting. "You think that's fucking funny, huh?" I hiss, baring my fangs right in his face. "Do you, you sick, perverted fuck?"

Mastermind's only answer is to whimper. He can't chance backing away from me, though, or else he might come away one testicle short.

"If you ever try to fuck with my head again I'll make you choke on your own dick," I snarl. I twist a little harder. "You understand me?"

He's got tears in his eyes as he nods, but I'm fresh out of fucks to give.

"Good." I let go and shove him backwards. "Now stay the hell away from me."

I'm not going to lie- after what he just did it feels pretty good to watch him scamper away like the little weasel he is. But the feeling doesn't last long.

The thought of what almost happened makes my skin crawl. It doesn't matter that physically Mastermind barely touched me, the fact that he invaded my mind and took away my free will like that really freaked me out.

I feel vulnerable in the worst way right now. What if he tries that shit again? Will I be able to shake off his mind control a second time?

Wanda comes into the kitchen then, her expression puzzled. "Hey, Vivien, did you do something to Mastermind?" she asks. "Because he looked like he was about to cry when I passed him just now."

I growl quietly. "What else is new?" I mutter. "Fucking coward."

Her confusion morphs into horror when she sees just how pissed I am. "Oh God, is he doing it to you, too?" she squeaks.

Um, did she just say "too?"

"'Too?'" I repeat. "What do you mean, too? Has he been fucking with your head, Wanda?"

She nods uneasily.

"Why haven't you said anything?" I demand. "Jesus, Wanda, you can't let him get away with this shit."

"Nothing's happened," Wanda replies quickly. "I've always managed to snap out of it before... you know. Did he-? With you-?"

I shake my head. "God, no. I realized something was weird because I was thinking all this stuff about him that I'd never do in reality. What about you?"

"Same here," she says.

"Interesting..." I murmur. An idea hits me then. "I wonder if that's how to keep him out? If you can poke a hole in his illusion, get yourself to believe it isn't real, you can shake him off."

Wanda nods slowly, thinking it over. "I think you're right," she muses. "That's definitely a good thing to keep in mind."

"Are you going to tell your dad?" I ask.

She shakes her head, her eyes wide in horror. "No way," she replies.

"You should, though," I press. "That prick is good and scared of me now, but I'm worried about you-"

"I don't want to cause issues on the team," Wanda interjects.

I scoff. "Wanda, this is about your peace of mind. Feeling safe in your own home," I tell her firmly. "Who gives a shit about team issues when-"

"You might not, but some of us do," my friend snaps.

Well, ouch. That really stung.

If I'm being honest with myself I have to admit that Wanda's right, though. I don't care about causing issues with the Brotherhood if I feel like what we're doing is wrong. I'm a bad teammate that way. A bad soldier.

I guess my expression shows my hurt, because Wanda immediately looks contrite. "I'm sorry, Vivien," she says quickly. "I didn't mean that-"

"Yes, you did," I retort dully.

She flounders for a second before stepping in to give me a big hug. "Sorry," she repeats. But she doesn't try to say she didn't mean it again.

We'd both know she'd be lying if she did.