Author's note: Thank you to kmj1989, anonymouscsifan, NotMarge, gossamermouse101, MrsPandaBrowncoat, Arkytior's Song, and badkitty98 for the reviews! Yup, Vivien is awesome at chess. Like Hank said, she's actually a lot more intelligent than she gives herself credit for sometimes. I feel like sometimes her impulsiveness kinda bites her in the ass, as we all well know. Wow, badkitty, that's a lot of reading! I'm glad my writing pulled you in like that :-)

As for today's chapter: new little bit at the beginning for Quicksilver fans! Again, I'm trying to incorporate more characters into this story, though of course the main focus is still Hank and Vivien together. This is the story of her journey, though, and a lot of that involves the Brotherhood. Hopefully I'm doing this right! Feel free to leave a review, and as always, thanks for reading!


A Different Way to Spend Christmas Eve

December 24, 1974

"Hey, Vixie," Peter calls out behind me in the hallway. "Where you going?"

I freeze mid-step and turn to face him. "Out," I reply carefully.

He zips over to stand next to me. "Where could you be going on Christmas Eve?" he asks, his expression curious.

Be careful, Babineaux.

"I wanted to go give some clothes and stuff to the Salvation Army," I explain blithely. It hurts to lie to Peter like this. The only consolation is that in this falsehood there's a grain of truth- I am doing a kind of charity work in Hell's Kitchen, after all.

He stares at me blankly for a long moment and then shakes his head.

"What?" I demand.

"Just- why bother with that kind of thing?" he mutters.

It takes everything in me not to yell at him for that comment. Why bother? Because if you see shit happening, people suffering, and don't lift a finger, you're part of the damn problem. That's why.

But I have to remind myself that Peter's still young, and even though his childhood wasn't perfect by any means he still grew up relatively sheltered from that sort of thing. Just a kid from the suburbs who stole stuff because it gave him a thrill, not out of want for anything.

He's always in such a rush all the time. Maybe if he slowed down a little he would be able to see the plight of people around him more.

"If not me, then who?" I tell him simply.

I've already turned away and taken a few steps before he blurts out, "you go out a lot. Why is that? Do you not like it here?"

Well shit.

I turn to face Peter again and note the hurt in his big, dark eyes. I've never been one for sticking around base much, even before I started seeing Hank. It seems like somehow Peter is taking that personally. "Not really," I admit reluctantly. "I don't like being cooped up anywhere. It's got nothing to do with you, though, Peter."

"So can I come with you, then?"

Aw man.

By some miracle I keep my sudden unease out of my expression, instead feigning incredulity. "You really want to go hand out clothes and serve up food at a soup kitchen?"

His nose wrinkles in distaste. "Not really."

I force myself to laugh, a cover for my relief. "That's what I thought. But how about we go to the movies on Thursday?" I suggest. That way he won't feel excluded anymore- and more importantly, suspicious of my outings.

He brightens immediately. "Ok."

"Alright," I say, backing away. "See you later, ok?"

"See you."

I head to the garage and lean against my car to gather my thoughts for a moment before I get in.

For whatever reason, I feel like I just dodged a huge bullet.


My little chat with Peter leaves me running late for meeting Hank. I have to hurry to my safe house to change clothes, grab my father's guitar, and put all of the stuff I gathered for this week into the little wagon I use before heading for the corner I promised to meet him at.

Hopefully he's ok, I think to myself as I rush out the door and into the street.

Poor Hank will probably stick out like a sore thumb in this neighborhood, he's so obviously a nerdy boy scout type. I'm just hoping that doesn't attract too much attention because that might get him into trouble with-

Oh God dammit.

I spy Hank easily from a distance because of his height, and I can see that he's looking down at someone with anger as he fiddles with his coat sleeve.

Angry Hank is a very rare thing. Angry Hank is also a very not good thing- I don't want him going all Beastie Boy in broad daylight. What the hell-?

Oh my God, he's being robbed at knife point. It seems like that sort of thing is happening a lot lately, Jesus.

I drop my stuff and take off down the sidewalk, grabbing one of my own knives from under my skirt as I go. I arrive so quickly the bastard robbing my boyfriend doesn't even have time to react before I pinch his earlobe with my fingers with one hand and hold a knife to his throat with the other.

The man lets out a strangled cry as soon as he realizes his predicament.

"What have we here?" I purr. My tone is light and teasing, because in my experience no one's going to take a pipsqueak like me seriously if I try to play it tough. "A little bit of attempted petty theft?"

"Let me go," he whines. "You bi-"

"Manners," I snap, yanking on his ear. He whimpers in pain as my blade presses into his skin. "Being rude to the girl who has a knife to your throat probably isn't the best idea."

Plus, you threatened my Hank. Big mistake.

"Now, I want you to drop the knife-"

His knife clatters to the ground.

I stand on tiptoe and lean close to his ear. "And run," I whisper menacingly, releasing him.

The guy stumbles slightly and then hightails it out of there without a second glance. What a chickenshit.

"Hi, baby," I say brightly, like I didn't just interrupt an attempted robbery. I slide my knife back under my dress and step closer for a kiss. "Sorry I'm late."

"On the contrary, your timing was perfect," Hank replies. His expression is this flattering mixture of relief and admiration for how I handled the situation.

I laugh and head back down the street for my guitar and the wagon, sitting abandoned on the sidewalk.

"What's this for?" he asks curiously, trailing after me.

"My friends."

Hank still looks puzzled, but he takes the wagon's handle from me and falls into step without complaint.

I lead him by the hand a block over to the alleyway my friends live in. They all perk up when they see me coming.

"It's Vivien! Vivien's here!" Harry, one of the guys, calls out. "Merry Christmas, Vivien! Who's that with you?"

I squeeze Hank's hand in reassurance before stepping forward to give everyone hugs.

"Merry Christmas!" I tell everyone as the week's haul is distributed. Spotting Betty, I tell her, "I found some good shoes for Johnny, for now. And a race car to play with. I hope that was ok?"

"Oh, Vivien. Bless you," she whispers, embracing me tightly.

I turn back towards Hank to see that Marcel has already scooted on up to him.

"You Vivien's beau?"

Hank clears his throat. "Yes," he replies.

Marcel smirks. "You pretty cute."

"Um-"

"Don't tease him, Marcel," I chide, coming over to rescue Hank and make proper introductions. I loop my free hand through his arm and smile. "Hank, this is my friend Marcel. Marcel, this is Hank."

"Hi," Hank says awkwardly.

"Hi," Marcel replies, grinning. His next words are at me. "You better keep an eye on your boy, baby girl. Don't want no one to steal him."

I laugh at the blush on Hank's face. "I'll keep that in mind," I joke. "Where's Mr. Cole?"

"His usual spot," Marcel says, gesturing down the alleyway. "I'll be there in a sec."

I nod and lead Hank forward, introducing him to Betty, Theresa, and Harry. Hank is unfailingly polite, though I can sorta sense his bemusement over the whole situation.

"You ok?" I whisper.

"I'm fine, but- what exactly's going on?" he murmurs. "Are they human? Do they know what you are?"

Of course Hank would notice that I've been showing my fangs when I smile. He's too observant not to.

"They're human, yes. And they know what I am," I tell him. I suddenly feel a little shy as I explain, "I've been coming here for months, bringing them food and trying to help out."

He raises his eyebrows.

"I don't know. I guess what you said back at Alkali Lake really did stick with me," I say, shrugging. "How mutants are the monsters in peoples' closets. I was just trying to think of a way to show humans that we're not, even if it was just a few of them."

Especially people like these guys, who welcomed me with open arms.

"You're amazing," Hank whispers, looking at me with this awestruck expression.

I feel my cheeks heating up. "I didn't bring you here to show off, Hank," I mutter. "It's just- there's so many things I can't share with you about my life. But this, this I can."

He leans down and kisses me, in full view of everyone. Clearly the idea of me trying to include him in my life as much as I can makes Hank very happy. And that makes me happy, too.

I'm still a little flushed when he pulls away. "Over here," I say, gesturing to Mr. Cole. He's sitting against the wall with his guitar in his lap. "Hello, Mr. Cole."

"Vivien," Mr. Cole replies, smiling broadly. He holds out a searching hand, which I step away from Hank to kneel and take. "Ya brought a guest?"

"I did," I agree. Time for some formal introductions. "Hank, this is Mr. Cole. Mr. Cole, this is my boyfriend, Hank. He's the one that bought you the new guitar."

"Great to be able to thank ya in person," Mr. Cole says genially.

During this whole exchange he's been staring straight ahead, rather than at us. I'm used to it at this point, but Hank-

"It was no trouble," Hank assures him. He kneels down and gently touches Mr. Cole's wrist, an offer for a handshake that's readily accepted. It's obvious he already realized that the older man is blind. "It's nice to meet your, sir."

God, seeing Hank treat Mr. Cole, who's kinda taken on the role of a loving uncle to me, with such courteous respect makes me wish so much that he could've met my father. Dad would've loved him, I'm sure of it.

"Nice, firm grip he has," Mr. Cole observes to me. "He good to ya?"

I give Hank a sideways glance and grin when I see him blushing. "Yes."

"I'm glad," Mr. Cole says. "Ya deserve a blessin', after everything you've done for us 'round here. Hank, ya better treat this girl right. She's one-in-a-million."

Hank grins sheepishly. "I intend to," he murmurs.

I laugh at the good-natured warning. "Do you feel like playing today, Mr. Cole?"

"I always feel like playin'," he replies, cradling the guitar in his lap. "Ya gave me music again after missin' it for twenty years. I've got some time to make up for."

"Do you mind?" I ask Hank.

"No, of course not."

So we all settle down and play for a while. Now that Mr. Cole and I both have guitars we've been having a lot of fun lately doing this thing where one of us starts to strum out chords and the other adds a melody over the rhythm. The others in the group like to sit around and listen to us basically make up songs on the fly. Marcel joins in sometimes, too, by tapping out a rhythm on his thighs and the ground. He also keeps badgering me until I sing for everyone, the punk.

It's late afternoon by the time me and Hank take our leave.

"I'll see you next week," I promise them all, waving as we go.

"I hope you bring your boy toy, too," Marcel remarks, with a lascivious wink in Hank's direction. Then he leans in and whispers to me, "the way that man looks at you, baby girl! You've got him sprung, for sure."

My cheeks flush up again. "Bye, Marcel," I say, but I can't help giggling.

"What was that about?" Hank asks as we walk away.

"Nothing," I reply shyly. I quickly change the subject. "So what did you think? Definitely a different way to spend Christmas Eve, right?"

"I'd like to go back with you, if you don't mind," he tells me. "I'll bring some stuff, too."

I smile. "Yeah?"

Hank nods, grinning too. "Yes. You're doing something wonderful for those people, Vivien," he says.

If he says so. I mean, canned goods and a jacket doesn't put a roof over their heads or anything, you know? I wish I could do more for my friends but I'm really at a loss on how.

"It doesn't feel like enough," I murmur, too quietly for Hank to hear.

"I still need to give you your Christmas present," he says after a minute.

I freeze in my tracks. "Shit, your present!" I hiss, smacking myself on the forehead. "I left it at-"

At my safe house. In my rush to meet him earlier I forgot to grab it.

I eye Hank speculatively. Should I...?

"It's ok," he assures me. "You didn't have to get me anything, any-"

"Hank, knock it off. I'm giving you a present," I retort sternly. "It's just-"

I sigh and make a big decision. A decision to trust Hank completely, to let him see the place that I've never let anyone else know about.

"It looks like it's my day for over-sharing," I mutter, and start walking. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Hank asks, dragging the empty wagon behind him. He looks a little ridiculous, this grown man with a little red wagon, but it's also kinda cute.

"My apartment. It's only five blocks from here," I reply.

"Your apartment?"

"Yeah," I say. "Come on, I'll explain when we get there."