flipside3

Deeeeeeep thouououghts:
Hello again! I though I'd do my opening notes a little differently this time. Okay... here goes:
Once upon a time, there was a young woman sitting in front of her television set. Now this was no ordinary television set.... wait, no it was an ordinary television set. Very ordinary in fact - back, small, sitting on a delapidated bookcase... but I digress. At any rate, this young woman was sitting in front of her ordinary television set on an ordinary Saturday Morning, getting her ordinary fix of Saturday Morning cartoons while her ordinary boyfriend made breakfast. Suddenly, something out of the ordinary happened. X-Men:Evolution came on. Now, that, in itself wasn't really out of the ordinary. After all, it came on every Saturday at the same time. No, what was out of the ordinary was the episode.
It was called "Speed and Spyke."
*dramatic pause*
As the episode continued progressing through the half-hour it was on, this young woman started to get a strange grin on her face. It was a scary, deranged kind of grin. A frightening grin. Her boyfriend looked at her and started to back away, getting nervous. Then she started to laugh and the boyfriend was officially scared. A lot.
"Honey...?" he asked, backing away from her on the futon. The young woman turned to him, the deranged smile suddenly replaced with a very sweet one that was somehow more sinister.
"I got it," was all she said.
And thus... the story was born.

"Flip Side"

Chapter Three

By: The Great Immortal, DangerMouse

Lance shifted in bed and reached out his arm to touch the still-warm, but empty spot next to him. The brown-haired youth sat up on his elbows, blinking stupidly at Pietro's vacant place. With a sigh, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and slid out of bed.

It always took Lance about five minutes to register the world in the morning. He squinted at the blurry clock, the bright green LCD numbers seeming to run together. Finally, he managed to make out the time - 7:36. Lance groaned. They had 7:36 in the morning now? Before he moved in with the Brotherhood, Lance would happily snooze away his weekend mornings - Hell, he would usually sleep through his weekday mornings as well, school being decidedly non-stimulating and tedious. However, since he moved in to the old Victorian house in the rundown area of Bayville, Lance had found himself getting up earlier and earlier. He couldn't quite figure out why.

Maybe it was because he had a reason to get up.

Stumbling into the bathroom adjoining his bedroom, Lance flipped on the light and leaned heavily on the sink, gazing at his reflection. He couldn't help but notice the ridiculous grin on his face. Stop that, he admonished himself. He was supposed to be the tough guy, not the happy-go-lucky grinning idiot of the group. But Lance couldn't help it. He found himself smiling so much more these days. Who wouldn't be smiling? He had real friends for a change; he could use his powers without worrying about what the others thought, he was in a meaningful relationship with a wonderful individual, he lived in a nice house, had plenty to eat, and a chance to start over. He could live his life without the stigma of the bad reputation he had at his old school. Most importantly, he had something that had previously been lacking in his life.

Family.

As weird, odd-looking, and strange as it was, it was a family. And it was his.

Lance gave up trying to fight his grin.

* * * * * *

After finally managing to finish his shower and get dressed, Lance made his way downstairs, the smell of breakfast assaulting his senses as he approached the living room. He could hear Pietro humming to himself as he moved around in the kitchen. Lance started to make a beeline for the breakfast table, but paused halfway through the living room, turning to stare at what had once been a plain gray wall.

"Um, Pietro," Lance began after a few shocked moments, "do you know what happened to the wall?" Before Lance could blink, Pietro appeared by his side, following his stare.

"I believe Todd happened to the wall," the speed-demon said simply. Lance said nothing, only nodding briefly.

The wall had been transformed.

What had once been a plain, dingy slat of slightly cracked drywall, was now a masterpiece in the making. The beginnings of a fabulous landscape was just starting to emerge, a meadow surrounded ancient trees, the whole scene glowing with a mythical quality. Other figures were developing - animals, magical creatures, or people - it was impossible to tell at this point. The more Lance stared at the wall, the more it seemed to draw him into it.

"I swear," Lance whispered, not taking his eyes off the painting, "I think I can almost smell the leaves of the trees."

"I know," Pietro replied in kind. "It's hard to believe he got all this done in one night." After a few more moments, the two friends exchanged a look, abruptly taking their eyes off the artwork. "Hungry?" Pietro asked with a smile. "I cooked breakfast." Before Lance could reply, Pietro was gone in a blur of movement.

"Yeah," Lance said, moving towards the kitchen, giving the painting one more glance over his shoulder.

* * * * * *

Todd had already been up for three hours when his mother called to him from her bedroom. Todd sighed and dropped the sponge he had been using to wash the dishes into the sink and untied his apron, draping it over a chair. He walked through the semi-clean, very small, two-bedroom home and into his mother's room.

She was sitting on the floor with, as usual, a bottle of hard liquor in her hand. She looked blearily up at Todd through yellow-tinged, red-rimmed eyes. Her straight, brown hair was in complete disarray. Todd fought back another sigh.

"What is it, Mom?" Todd asked her. He walked into the room and over to the dresser next to his mother's bed. Opening the top drawer, he pulled out a hairbrush.

"T-Toddy, what are you d-doing here?" she asked him, rolling her head back to look in his direction. Her speech was slurred and she stuttered. Todd reached down and helped her back on the bed. Sitting behind her, he began to work the brush through her hair.

"I live here, Mom," Todd said evenly.

"No, no, no, no Toddy," she replied with a shake of her head, causing the brush to tangle. "W-Why aren't you in Temple?" Todd paused in his efforts to untangle the brush.

"It's Sunday," he explained after a minute. "Yesterday was the Sabbath."

"Yesh..Yeshterday?"

"Yes, Mother." Todd's mother sat quietly for a moment, as if trying to contemplate what Todd had said.

"So, did you go yeshterday?" she finally asked. Todd put down the brush and pulled his mother's now untangled hair into a lose ponytail, fastening it with a ribbon that was on the end table near the bed.

"No, Mother, I didn't," Todd said. His mother's eyes narrowed.

"You go to Temple, Toddy. You always go to Temple," she told him firmly, her words actually seeming clear. "Why did you miss?"

"I was helping a friend of mine buy some groceries," Todd explained. He stood up and walked around his mother so he could sit facing her on the bed.

"Oh. That's sh'okay," she said with a drunken sort of smile. She leaned forward and cupped her hands around Todd's face, forcing him to look directly in her eyes. "You're a good boy, Toddy," she informed him. Todd said nothing for a few moments.

"Are you hungry?" he asked finally. His mother let go of his face and leaned back on the bed.

"No, not hungry," she said with a weak shake of her head. She lifted the bottle she was holding out so Todd could see. "I could do with a r-refill, though. Jus' somethin' to take the edge off." Todd shook his head.

"No."

His mother looked at him in disbelief. "No?" she repeated her voice beginning to raise to screaming level. Todd fought the urge to cringe - his mother's yelling was horribly screechy and loud.

"No," Todd repeated, failing to keep his voice quiet and in control. "Every day, I brush your hair, get you in clean clothes, cook all the meals, clean the house, and do the yard work, not to mention going to school and doing my homework. I'm tired of all of this and I'm not going to help you destroy yourself any more!"

"How dare you!" his mother yelled. Todd got up off the bed. The floodgates were opening for him and he couldn't hold it back any more.

"How dare me? How dare you!" he yelled back. "Ever since I can remember, you've been like this! Was having me such a terrible thing that you have to remain in a state of constant drunkenness to escape it all?"

His mother glared at him, an eerie silence falling between them. "Get. Out," she told him, enunciating each word. Todd didn't need to hear any more. He turned on his heal and ran out of the room, then out of the house, slamming the front door behind him.

* * * * * *

Lance was just refilling his coffee when Fred came into the kitchen. The large youth was already dressed and immediately sat down at the breakfast table, filling up a plate that had been set out for him. Taking a large stack of pancakes onto his plate, Freddy grinned at Lance and Pietro.

"Mornin'," he said between mouthfuls.

"Good morning," Pietro replied. Lance simply lifted his mug in a welcoming gesture.

"Did you guys see what Todd painted last night?" Fred asked, swallowing.

"Kinda hard to miss," Lance said, sitting down across from Pietro.

"Yeah, it's really cool," Fred said, taking another bite. "I watched him paint it. Did you know he don't use brushes?"

Lance tilted his head to the side, looking slightly perplexed. "How'd he do it, then?"

Fred took a large swig of orange juice before answering. "Well, he uses his hands a lot. He would also use his shirt - dab it in the paint and use that. He even put some paint in his hair." Fred paused in his breakfast, concentrating for a moment. "Maybe that is a little like a brush." Fred shook his head to clear it. "Anyway, it was weird, watching him paint it. At first, it was just this big mess, but after about an hour or so, it really started to look like somethin'. Pretty neat."

Pietro nodded his head in approval. "Todd is very talented."

"Yeah. So what're you guys doin' today?" Freddy asked them, grabbing more food off the table. Lance shrugged.

"I was thinking about doing my laundry and studying my SAT vocabulary word trees," he said. Fred rolled his eyes.

"Well, that's exciting. How 'bout you, Pietro?"

"Homework," said the white-haired youth with a yawn. "I've got some trigonometry."

"You could do that in like five seconds," Fred said, pointing his fork in Pietro's face.

"One assignment, maybe," he replied with a smirk. "I was actually planning on finishing my homework for the whole semester today. That way I won't have to worry about it anymore. Why? What do you want to do?

"I don't know," Freddy said, pushing his now empty plate away from him. "I was thinkin' I might go to down to the junkyard and bench press some cars."

"Sounds like a plan," said Lance, standing up and stretching.

"Yep," replied Fred, also standing. "But first I think I'll stop at the Burger Barn." Freddy reached down and patted his stomach. "That was a great appetizer, Pietro, but I'm still starving! See you guys later!" Fred turned and left out the back door, dumping his plates in the sink as he went. Pietro and Lance exchanged a look.

"And I thought I had the worst metabolism of the group," Pietro remarked. Lance mearly shrugged.

* * * * * *

Three hours later, standing outside of a significantly more wealthy Burger Barn, Fred J. Dukes let out a satisfied belch. Finally he was full. With a smile on his face, he started on his way to the junkyard. All that eating made him want to exercise.

"First I'm going to lift a Japanese car, since those are smaller," he said out loud to himself. Fred liked talking to himself. He found that it helped organized his thoughts. "Then, a sports car, then a full-size two door, then a full-size four door, then an SUV, then a---"

"Meow..."

Fred stopped in mid-thought, nearly jumping out of his skin.

"Who said that?" he asked loudly, looking around. He hadn't really been paying attention to where he was going. The junkyard wasn't in the best part of town and these streets in particular were littered with garbage.

"Meow..."

Hearing the sound again, Fred discovered it was coming from a nearby ally. In fact, it was coming from a dumpster. Half expecting to find that a cat had somehow gotten itself caught in there, Fred lifted the lid and saw...

"Nothin'..." Fred said out loud with a frown. "Just a bunch of trash." Fred was just about to drop the lid when he heard the sound again. Fred's frown deepened as he began to dig through the garbage. It sounded like a cat, but he just didn't see a cat.

Suddenly, something moved. Fred let out a little yelp and jumped back. Stepping closer, he looked in the dumpster again. No cat in sight, but was that burlap sack moving? Fred lifted the sack out of the dumpster and it meowed at him.

"Huh," Fred said evenly. He sat down on the ground and set the sack in front of him. It wasn't easy with his thick fingers, but he finally managed to undo the knot keeping the bag closed. Fred carefully reached inside the now opened sack and felt something warm and fuzzy. Gently he lifted the animal out.

It was just a kitten, the oddest color of gray Fred had ever seen. It had short hair and big green eyes, and Fred knew it was far too thin. It meowed at him plaintively swiping its little claws at his hands. Fred held the kitten close to his body and it curled up in his arms and went to sleep. Fred tried to scowl at it, but he couldn't.

"Great," he muttered. "Just what I needed."

* * * * * *

Pietro grunted in pain. "That hurts, Lance," he said between clenched teeth.

"Just relax," replied the brown-haired youth, "It'll be over in a minute."

"Easy for you to say," Pietro snapped. "Now what am I feeling for, exactly?"

"It'll be rounded and slightly warm, " Lance explained.

"Rounded and... ow!" Pietro gasped. "There's something sharp in there!"

"Sharp? There shouldn't be anything sharp. Here, let me help you," Lance said, taking a step forward.

"Ow! No, stay put! I think my hand is stuck!"

"Well, that's just..."

"Wait, wait, wait... I think I feel it!" interrupted Pietro. He looked over his shoulder and shot a glare at Lance. "This was your idea. Why aren't you doing this?"

"My hands are too big," Lance said with a shrug. "Yours are more... delicate."

"Great, delicate hands," the white-haired youth said with a roll of his eyes. "Now that I've got this thing, what do I do with it?"

"You don't know?" Lance asked in disbelief. "Geez, you are innocent."

"You know this isn't my specialty," Pietro replied defensively. "Usually I just hire somebody to take care of these things."

"Yeah, well we can't afford somebody this time. The costs for this kind of labor have just skyrocketed."

"Whatever. Just tell me what to do next."

"Well, you just grasp that rounded thing kinda tightly, twist it a little to the left, then tug on it."

"Grab, twist, tug," Pietro repeated, maneuvering his hands to get a better grip. "Grab, twist... Hey, it came loose! Was it supposed to come loose?"

"That's the whole idea," Lance replied with a grin. "Now hand it to me."

Pietro pulled his arm out of the washing machine and handed the part to Lance. He rolled his shoulder a few times, groaning slightly. "I didn't like doing that," he told Lance.

"Well, it was cheaper than hiring a repair person," Lance said, dropping the broken part on the kitchen table behind him. He leaned over it, studying it.

"Can you fix it?" Pietro asked him, going to stand next to his friend.

"Probably."

"Great. Well, I think I'll... hmmm." Pietro closed his eyes and put a hand to his temple. Lance immediately looked up in concern.

"Your head still hurting?" he asked him, resting a hand on his forehead.

Pietro nodded. "A little. But I wasn't using my speed at all."

"You were this morning," Lance reminded him, "when you made breakfast. Also, you used it a little last night when you--"

"Yeah, I know," Pietro said, cutting him off. "But I've never had the headaches when I wasn't using my speed directly." He rubbed his head, sighing slightly. "Maybe I should go talk to Mystique after all."

"That's what I've been telling you," Lance said firmly. "Do you want me to call her now?"

"No," Pietro began, starting to shake his head, but he paused, an expression of pain flashing across his face. "I think I just want to go lie down in the dark for a little while." Lance nodded and wrapped his arm around Pietro's shoulder, helping him get upstairs.

* * * * * *

Since bench-pressing cars seemed out of the picture now that he had a kitten sleeping on his shoulder, Fred decided to cut his loses and head to the park.. It was a very nice day, the sun shining brightly and the temperature just right. There were a lot of people in the park, especially a lot of kids. Fred didn't mind kids - actually, he kinda liked them. They never really laughed at him too much once they got to know him. Not like adults.

A number of people shot him odd glances and he walked through the playground, but nobody said anything. Fred was scanning around for a bench to rest on when he saw someone he recognized sitting rather despondently on the swings.

"Todd? You okay?" Fred asked, walking over to the hunched figure. Todd looked up at him through his mop of brown hair. He looked back down at his feet and said nothing. "Come on, man, you can tell me," Fred insisted. Finally, Todd looked up, kicking the ground a little in front of him as he did.

"I did something bad today, man," Todd said with a sigh.

"Bad how?"

"I yelled at my mom." Todd got up off the swing and started to walk towards a picnic table at the edge of the playground. Fred followed. They both sat down, and Todd began picking at the wood. "I shouldn't have done it."

"Why'd you yell at her?" Fred prompted.

"I don't know. She just got me mad. I guess it had been building for a long time. Still," Todd said, looking up at Fred and pounding the table, "I shouldn't have done it. She's got a sickness, you know. I know she can't help it. She's addicted."

"Yeah," Fred said with an uncomfortable nod. Fred didn't know what to do. Lance usually handled things like this. Fred wasn't good a being sensitive. Suddenly he got an idea. "Here, you go Todd. Hold this."

Todd looked up just as Fred dropped a kitten into his lap. Todd blinked at the small furry animal, which blinked back and him, then curled up in a ball and started purring. The Toad couldn't help but smile.

"Where on Earth did you get this?" he asked Freddy.

"Found it in a dumpster. Do you believe that?" Fred shook his head angrily. "How could anyone do something like that?"

"People are crazy," Todd said with a frown. He sat there quietly and continued to pet the small ball of fur. Finally, he sighed, handing the animal back to Fred. "Thanks," he said. "That helped a lot. I guess I should go home.."

"Yeah," Fred nodded. He watched as Todd hopped away towards his home, a concerned look on his face.

* * * * * *

Todd stood at the front door to his home, steeling himself to enter. Without any further hesitation, Todd opened the door and went in. He could hear the television blaring in the living room. Todd walked in and turned it off. The house was very quiet.

"Mom?" he called walking through the house. She wasn't in the kitchen or the bathroom. He walked into her bedroom and saw her laying on the bed. "Mom?" he called again, walking towards her.

"Mom, I just want to say I'm sorry," he began softly. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I know you're sick and can't help the things you do. I really want you to get well, though. I think we need to get some help, okay?" He looked up at his mother, whose eyes were closed. She looked so peaceful and still. Too still. Todd suddenly felt his stomach tighten.

"Mom?" he whispered.

Copyright S. Califf, April, 2001