DISCLAIMER!!! X-Men belongs to Marvel and X-Men Evolution to the WB. I own only Dan and Fiona, and I ask you kindly not to steal them. x_X;;; A warning. This fic is RATED R for a reason. Contained within (in no particular order) are language, violence, and drugs. You shouldn't be reading this if you're under 13. You probably shouldn't be reading this if you /are/ 13. Let's just say you've been dually warned.









amphetamines and jellybeans....
the hardest part is letting go
but you've got to or you know
you'll end up waiting....
—Eve6, Amphetamines

Forever lost in darkness / to never see the light / endless cold uncertainty / ever trembling fright – it was a song that his mother, before the.... problems.... had sung to him. Perhaps he was lost in darkness but he didn't mind the fact that light and goodness were so very far away. Lance had never been afraid of the dark, like so many other children – he found, actually, that the dark was a comforting presence. Lance lay on his back on the cot and stared at the ceiling, which was dripping a noxious-looking green goo. If /that/ was Todd's fault, Lance was going to make him very sorry indeed.

After what happened on that piece of shit rock, everything had been shot to hell. They were disorganized; Mystique was missing (not that he minded.... She was a nasty, controlling bitch) and they fought amongst themselves. Well.... Sort of. Lance sometimes let Pietro think he was the leader of the Brotherhood, because the silver-haired boy had an ego large enough to fill the school and leak through the windows. Fred was not smart enough to do anything for himself, and Todd simply didn't /care/....

Still, they were all he had and Lance found himself grudgingly.... Not liking. (Well, maybe. But he'd never admit it to himself.)

And then there was Kitty Pryde, a completely /different/ sort of problem. (Why was he so fascinated by her, anyway? She was such a /valley/ girl.)

It was almost as like there were two Lances, each arguing to dominance inside of his head.

Maybe all his troubles had started because some misguided woman had named him 'Lance.'

Sometimes men look like angels when they sleep.

Lance, rolling over and drifting off, looked exactly like a smirking teenager.

X

Daniel Brown shifted nervously on the train. The initial euphoria had worn off and he was feeling cramped, depressed, trapped, and irritable. The woman sitting next to him glanced over curiously at the too-thin boy with his foot tapping incessantly on the floor. "What are you looking at?" he snarled. She blinked, affronted. "Bitch."

"Excuse /me/!" the woman fluted.

The train was going to Chicago, not just another nowhere town in the middle of America. He was traveling, couldn't stay anywhere long, for there was always an itch to move on, away from the shit life that he found. It was just that he kept expecting so much from the new place, and when it disappointed he couldn't stay, it made him so angry. Chicago had the dealers, though.

The Amtrak was an older one, the sort that had ripped seats and writings all over the walls. Although he wasn't hungry at all he ate a bag of Jelly Bellies absently, not even noticing the flavors. Dan's hyper-charged brain read everything on the side – he wondered who RB and SJ were. Or whether Mona was as much of a slut as an unknown author claimed.

He shrank into the chair and clutched his backpack, watching the world rush by in a blur. Everything was blurred, his future, his life, his body, his soul.... Confusion, chaos. He needed more. More, more, more. What he'd taken wasn't enough, the high was gone almost before it started. Dan bit his lip, teeth digging into the flesh. Tiny drops of blood leaked around his teeth but he didn't bother to wipe them away. He wasn't an addict, he didn't need /anything/.

Or anyone.

X

"Professor," Ororo thought, "The boy is on the move. It will be.... Inefficient to search for him first. Shall I focus on the girl?"

"Whatever you deem best, Ororo," came Xavier's voice in her head, "I have complete trust in you."

Ororo sighed – it was so much more difficult when sole responsibility was on /your/ head.

X

Fiona groaned – another transformation was beginning. She could tell by the way that her entire body tingled, as though every nerve had been electrified. Not again – she was beginning to grow rather tired of the changes, and was terrified that one would happen in school. Fiona had lied to her mother and said that she was sick, and had managed to stay at home for a week. The mutations came randomly or when she was feeling stressed. It was a cycle that, in better circumstances, would actually have been amusing: she panicked when she mutated and she mutated when she panicked.

No! NO! Fight it! Fightitfightitfightit. Don't give in, Fiona, don't give—

Too late. She shrank towards the ground, about to scream, but all that came out was a strangled squawk. Her vision shifted, became sharper, and she stumbled on the ground on talons which did not balance properly. For a moment, the huge golden eagle floundered on the floor comically, before she caught her bearings and perched on the bedstead.

Fiona saw her reflection in the mirror, a giant, savage looking bird with a sharply curved beak. She ducked her head away from the glass so that she wouldn't see herself. Painful. Painful sight, painful being stuck in this small room, where the air went stagnant and dull. With an experimental flap of her wings, Fiona flew through the window and flapped upwards until she floated comfortably on the thermals.

She passed the better part of the afternoon like this, and it was enjoyable, except when the eagle-body got hungry and despite her attempts not to, it ate a small rat.

It was easy, instinctive, to fly. For a moment Fiona almost forgot her fear – the fear which had been plaguing her since the first night as a wolf. It was enough to be weightless and see the entire vista of the Virginia woods stretched below her, green and lush. The streams traced through the trees in glittering blue veins.

Oh, yeah? An inner voice demanded nastily; and what happens when this mutation wears off, eh? You go plummeting towards the ground and SPLAT.

The same voice continued. What if your parents find out? What'll they think of you then?

Shut up, Fiona thought viciously. I'm.... I'm FINE.

There was a screaming noise in the distance, a plane approaching. Startled, Fiona lost control of the eagle-body and she changed back, hundreds of feet in the air, a naked girl dropping towards the earth. "FUCK!" the girl shrieked.

This is it. She was surprised to find that there were no prayers.

Fiona squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for the final impact. The roaring in the distance grew louder – or was that just the sound of the air rushing by her? – and then she /hit/.

X

Dan traversed the streets of one of Chicago's more suspect areas. They tended to hold the most interest for him, in people and in.... Other ways. It didn't look as though it was going to be a good night. Thick purple clouds covered the moon, and smoke drifting along the horizon prevented anyone from being able to see the sky, even if they'd looked up.

"'Ey, pretty boy," a voice slurred behind him. Dan turned around and a thick arm grabbed him around the neck. "You lookin' f'r trubble?" the man said. He was drunk, or high. Under the influence of something.

Dan twisted in the man's grip. "No."

"Aww, c'mon...." The a hand traveled downwards. "No' trubble then.... Jus' some fun.... Thas' all."

"Get the hell off me," Daniel exclaimed, but the man only laughed, and punched him in the face, the left eye. He'd never been good in fights, and the old panic filled his stomach. He was going to die.... And then, Dan mentally kicked himself for being stupid. He was a mutant, wasn't he?

He decided he'd had enough. Dan lashed out with his knee, catching the man in a very tender area. His attacker wheezed, doubled over, then looked up, bleary eyes enraged. "You're gonna be so fucking sorry when I'm done wi' you, pretty boy," he gasped, and raised a fist.

"I don't think so." Dan lifted his arms up, palms out.

"Wha' th' fuck?" the man screamed, "Wha' th' fuck're you doin' ta me, you fucking freak?"

"I could say something really clichéd," Dan said, as the thorns dug deeply into the man's flesh, into his stomach, arms, legs, and more /important/ parts, "Like, 'I'm teaching you a lesson.' But that's just not me."

He walked away, leaving the man trapped in the makeshift net of thorny vines.

An animal-like whimper came from the bundle of flesh and plant, but Daniel Brown ignored it.

Maybe it was time to move on again.

X

Ororo Munroe surveyed the unconscious girl on the floor of the Blackbird. She looked as though she had not been eating enough lately, though would normally be quite solid. Oddly enough, the child was naked as well, crumpled in a heap. The older woman sighed and leaned over to pick the pitiful bundle up. Though slender, Ororo was much stronger than she looked, and she carried her burden easily to an alcoved room reserved for these types of emergencies.

The top hatch had, sadly enough, come in handy more than once; catching team members as they fell. Really, Ororo thought, It would make sense to put some padding beneath it.... The door slid open before Ororo, and she walked forward to place the girl on a table, covering her with a sheet. Then, she moved off to the side to sit on a chair, and wait.

X

Fiona regained consciousness before she opened her eyes.

She let one slide open slowly, afraid that what she would see was....

But the ceiling was smooth metal and she opened the other eyes, quite sure that metal ceilings were not what a dead person should be seeing. Fiona sat up, clutching the blanket around herself. "What—" and her eyes flickered towards the woman sitting on the chair. Fiona's brain, confused attempted to register where she was and what had happened. "I fell, but—"

"Don't worry, Fiona," the woman said, low voice soothing. "If you wrap that blanket around yourself, there's clothes in the other room."

"Right," she mumbled, face bright, burning red.

Fiona curled the blanket around herself, toga-like, and backed away from the dark woman, watching her carefully. She bumped against the door and fumbled with the lock, pushing it backwards and slamming it shut. Breathe, Fiona. Deep breaths.

It was a tiny room, about half the size of the one she'd just left, with only a chair and an end table stuck in a corner. Resting on the chair was a navy blue jumpsuit. It normally would not have been Fiona's choice of attire, but as it was the only thing available she shrugged into it without complaint. It zipped up the back, which was difficult to do by herself, but, by contorting her back, Fiona was able to get it easily enough. Shivering, though not with cold, she opened the door and glanced at the woman.

"Who are you?" Fiona asked, "How do you know my name? And what am I doing here?" Oh god. She was nervous, the tingling starting—

"I'm Ororo Munroe. I'm a.... Representative of Professor Charles Xavier's institute for gifted youngsters—"

"You're a mutie too, aren't you?"

"Mutant," Ororo corrected, "And I caught you as you fell."

"Yeah, thanks a lot," Fiona muttered, tugging at the jumpsuit. It was too big in the chest and at the waist, and bagged oddly. She felt like a complete geek, especially when compared to Ororo's carefully tailored uniform.

"I know what you must be going through, Fiona," Ororo said quietly. "The confusion. The fear." She reached out and touched Fiona's arm.

Fiona shied away from the contact like a nervous colt, backing against the wall. "Look," she said, "I don't know what's wrong with me, but maybe I'm crazy and I think you're crazy too, I don't know what you're talking about and /I want to go home/!"

"We can help you," Ororo said. "We can. Really. But.... You will have to trust."

"But how can you trust me?" Fiona said, giggling nervously, "I'm a freak. I randomly turn into bloodthirsty animals."

"At the Institute, you /learn/ control. Imagine that, Ms. Crowley." Ororo paused to let the words sink in. "Never worrying about morphing at an inopportune time. You'll be able to subjugate the animal mind lurking behind your thoughts...."

"Where?"

"A small town, called Bayville. You would be able to visit your parents. They will be able to visit you."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You always have a choice," Ororo said coolly, "Whether you make the right one or not is always up to you."

"My parents.... I'd have to talk to them...."

"I am sure that once things are explained, they'll see the wisdom of the Institute."

Fiona sighed and fiddled with the cuff of her jumpsuit. She was NOT having a good day.

X

Daniel stepped off the train, shouldering the backpack. Bayville seemed /happy/. And small. The man at the ticket booth smiled at a middle-aged woman as she bought a round-trip ticket to the capital city. A father held the hand of his small daughter as he helped her up the stairs into the compartment. Dan spat on the concrete and glanced around, deciding where to go next.

His eye ached. It was swelled almost shut from the incident in Chicago, still hadn't healed.

It didn't look like there was much of a city, Bayville was mostly suburbs and the stores and malls catering to suburban life. It was all very familiar to him – Dan would have bet anything that there was a Starbucks around the corner. Another thing that was familiar, the sudden desire for speed, filled him and he almost panicked. But it wouldn't do to go crazy in the middle of a new town, not so soon. Dan fought ruthlessly for control of himself.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked.

He looked.

It was a small, grubby girl about nine or ten, big eyes outlined in too much makeup for someone her age. They grew larger as they took in the semi-insane light touching his face. "I wouldn't have asked," she said in a quick stream of words, "Only you look like Mommy looks. When she hasn't...." The girl glanced sideways to make sure no one was listening. "I know how it's like not to have it. I can tell you where to get some."

Dan looked at her, bemused, haggard face twisting into a smirk. "How would /you/ know about it, kid? You can't be out of fourth grade."

She sniffed in disdain, four feet of solid cynicism. "Don't go to school. I.... Help Mommy."

He glanced at her again, pity stabbing even his tired heart. He knew what /that/ meant.... So Bayville wasn't as clean of a town as it looked, not if it had child prostitutes like this one. He reached out and ruffled the girl's hair; she giggled and pulled away. "So do you want me to tell you where it's sold or not?"

"Yeah," Dan said, nodding at his tiny guide, "Yeah, I do."

She slipped her hand into his and lead him into the shadows.

X

Sheryl Brown cried a lot, lately. Dave didn't know what to do. He could not understand why she was so attached to the freak he'd run off weeks ago. He didn't understand why she persisted in attempting to get the police to search for the mutie. Actually, Dave didn't really understand women at all, but it didn't trouble him for long.

Eventually she'd give up that stupid hope of finding the freak.

Right?

X

Now that his mind was clear again, Dan wandered around the city, getting to know it better. There wasn't much of a scene. One grimy little club where some punks half-heartedly danced to a mediocre Rancid cover band and that was about it. He could see the almost palatial school in the distance. Large schools meant preps, something Dan was not at all fond of. It wasn't as if he was going to school, anyway. He trotted silently along the streets, examining the stores. Again, nothing interesting.

It was entirely dark, even only at eleven. The street, in what appeared to be the "city" portion of Bayville was lit by fizzling neon signs. One caught his eye; a comics shop called The Cavern. It was tiny, as the best comics stores were, and cramped. Dan pushed open the door, but there wasn't a bell. The shelves, close together and well kept, were organized and listed alphabetically.

Dan browsed through the latest issues of Spiderman, keeping a careful eye on the skinny clerk with geek glasses in the spirit of Weezer's Rivers Cuomo. For some odd reason, store workers usually watched Dan with suspicion, and he didn't want to cause any trouble. Yet.

"Good choice, yo," a voice behind him said.

Dan turned around, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

The speaker was a small boy with a strangely hunched-over back. His hair was long, scraggly, and rather greasy looking; he was skinny and withered. In short, the boy basically had nothing going for him. To enunciate the fact, he dressed like an adult's idea of what a punk should look like, complete with thick wristbands. "Yeah," he repeated, sly smile crossing his face. "Lotsa action, and you could almost believe that Spidey's a mutie."

"Most people wouldn't think that was such a good idea," Dan replied, and went back to browsing.

The boy was not about to be ignored. Glancing to make sure the clerk wasn't watching, he jumped and landed neatly on the top of the book-rack, his light weight not enough to knock it over. "Not me, kid," he said. "And I don't think you, either, yo."

Dan, face guarded, looked up again. "Right," he said, face pale, "Tell me who the fuck you are."

"Todd Tolensky," Todd said amiably, smiling that bizarre smile again. It was like the corners of his mouth moved independently of each other, crawling across his face like flies. He flipped off of the rack again, standing on the floor like a normal person. "Pleased to meetcha."

"Daniel Brown," he said, and held out his hand, wincing as Todd's grimy, sweaty palms gripped his. "How did you.... Know?" At least, it seemed like Todd had known.

"About bein' a mutie?" Todd grinned, showing yellow teeth.

"Shut up, you fucking moron," Dan muttered uneasily, "Someone could hear."

"A'right," Todd said, breezily unconcerned, "Then let's take a walk, you'n me, and I'll tell you 'bout someone who can help you."

Dan hesitated. Help him what?

Still.... He wasn't promising anything. Just hearing the frog boy out.

"Right. Let's go, punk-boy."

Todd Tolensky, walking a step behind Dan, smiled suddenly.

This was even easier than he'd thought it was going to be.