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.









Plagiarized existence exist.... —System of a Down, Devil

The room was designed in such a way that the morning sun acted as a sort of natural alarm clock. The light slanted across her face as she opened her eyes, squinting in the sudden burst of bright. Yawning, Fiona lurched out of bed and into the hall. Kitty, in blue pajamas, was pounding on the bathroom door. "Rahne! Open up, you've had enough time in there! If you don't open the door I'm coming in anyway!" she threatened.

"/All right/," an accented voice yelped, "I'm done, I'm done." The door swung open, right at Kitty's face, though it passed through her as though she wasn't there. Another brown-haired girl emerged from inside. She had a snubbed nose and an impish expression permanently fixed to her face. "You need /patience/," the girl muttered in a Scottish burr.

"What I need," Kitty said placidly, "Is to brush my teeth before school is /over/."

"Suit yourself," Rahne said, and promptly morphed into a wolf, bounding down the stairs as quickly as she could.

"That's Wolfsbane?"

"Yep," said Kitty, "Like, 'scuse me." And the door shut.

X

The man that the little girl had shown him was an expensive dealer but Dan had scraped together enough money to pay. He'd finished most of the speed already, and the pleasant feeling, familiar and welcome, coursed through his body. Smiling, Dan went into the hall and promptly bumped into Lance. "Watch where you're going, man," Lance said, and then peered closer at Dan's eyes.

"You fucking idiot," he exclaimed, "Don't do anything stupid in school, we can't fucking afford to get in that much trouble!"

"Don't worry," Dan said. Now that he'd done it he felt utterly confident of his own abilities. "Don't worry about a thing."

X

Fiona paused in the hall as the green-haired boy stood at his locker. His eyes were unusually glassy, an odd, faraway smile on his face. She nudged Rahne in the ribs. "What's with him?" The girl turned her head, curious, and shrugged.

"Dunno. He looks sick."

"You can't tell?" Ray asked, with infinite patience, from Rahne's other side.

"Tell what?" Fiona asked.

"He's completely fucked up."

"What?" Rahne asked.

Ray bumped his head theatrically against the locker. "Naïveté will get you nowhere, Wolfie."

"Come on, we really don't know," Fiona said, giving him a puppy-dog-eyes look.

"Right," Ray sighed, shaking his head. "I keep forgetting. He's high. Do you understand?"

"Ohhh," Rahne said, looking relieved. "I wasn't sure."

Fiona watched the green head disappear into a classroom, pursing her mouth thoughtfully. "I wonder if he knows how bad that is for him?"

"He knows," Ray said, "He just doesn't give a shit."

X

Dan fidgeted in class, restless. He didn't know what he was doing here. Why was he in school, if he could be somewhere, anywhere else? Bayville was nothing, meant nothing to him. And yet here he was, wasting a high in English, waiting for Ms. Small to be quiet and let them start their homework. In the seat across the table, Pietro was drawing furiously, his hand a blur as he sketched bizarre cartoons. His silver head tilted as he peered closely at the page.

"That looks like Jhonen's stuff," Dan said. "Didn't think you were a /plagiarizer/," he widened his eyes innocently. In English the teacher had just finished a long lecture on the evils of plagiarism.

"Ain't plagiarism if I'm imitating style," Pietro shot back, "No words were stolen in the production of this comic strip."

"Hey!" Tabitha said, in a too-loud stage whisper, "What are you drawing?!"

"Yes," said Ms. Small, appearing suddenly a their table, "What /are/ you drawing?"

"Nothing," Pietro said ingenuously. He'd used his speed to hide the paper in his sleeve, lightning fast.

She raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Pay attention, Mr. Brown, Mr. Maximoff, Ms. Smith."

"Okay, teach!" said Tabitha, causing Pietro and Dan to wince.

X

Fiona sat outside of Bayville High with some of the younger Institute students, watching them talk and argue. She still felt uncomfortable in such a large group, and had her nose buried inside of a copy of The Truth as a safeguard, though she could still peer over the top in order to see what the others were doing. Rob (he refused to go by Roberto – and 'Bobby' was the Iceman's nickname) was idly skimming back and forth on his skateboard, watching them, and Amara was attempting to figure out how to use a calculator.

"I /hate/ these things!" Amara shrilled, throwing the calculator down the steps.

"Look," Rahne explained patiently, "It's not that hard. You press these buttons, and it graphs."

"It's stupid!" Amara raged, "We never needed these at home!"

"You aren't /at/ home, either," Rob snorted softly, "Honestly, Amara, it's not that—"

Amara raised a hand, sparkling with flame, and aimed it at Rob's head.

"Amara," said Bobby, from his lounging position on the steps, "No powers in school."

She glared at them, and let the fire fade. "He was /asking/ for it."

Fiona ignored the mini-drama, now engrossed in the adventures of William de Worde. "Hey," Bobby said, leaning over and plucking the book away, "Our newest member hasn't given any input on the subject."

She grinned half-heartedly, attempting to take the book back. "I'm not the best person to ask, I hate math with a passion." Bobby kept the book just out of reach, and she sighed, sitting down again.

Several things happened at once.

She felt a light touch at her back, halfway down the braid, someone giggled, and then there was an explosion that knocked her forward. The other X-Men stood up abruptly, but Tabitha Smith was already gone, carried off in a blur by the grudging assistance of Pietro Maximoff. In such a public place it was impossible to do anything, and Fiona picked herself up from the pavement.

Nothing seriously injured, though her shirt was scorched, although.... Frantically, Fiona felt at the back of her head. The braid had been singed off halfway down, where the explosion had happened. Bobby helped her up, though she shook him off with a growl. "I'm /fine/!"

"Fuck," Rob said, glaring after the departing Brotherhood, "They're getting nastier.... You haven't even fought them yet. Well, we'll just beat their asses next time."

Bobby glanced at the remains of Fiona's braid, which lay forlornly on the steps. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," she said, chewing at her lip. It was more than that, however. Where some children had security blankets, Fiona's braid served the same function. When she was little she'd held the braid tightly in one hand whenever she was frightened – it was a crutch, but a comforting one. Now it was gone, in a second's prank. Her face grew darker as she looked at the tangle of hair on the ground. "I'm just angry."

X

Dan sat on the porch railing of the Brotherhood's house, idly flipping through On the Road. He'd read it so many times that he practically had the content memorized, but it was always comforting to see the familiar words line themselves along the page. He was rather glad that the other members of the Brotherhood were out—it wasn't that he didn't like them, it was just that they were /loud/. Very loud. Especially Tabitha. He returned to Kerouac, and—

"Yahoooo!" someone shrieked. The blur of speed that had been Pietro paused and deposited Tabitha onto the porch, and adjusted his shirt.

He sighed, and glared at the girl. "Lose some weight, Boom Boom. I'm not carrying you again."

"Aww, you know you want to, Speedy," she cooed, and went into the house.

The boys watched her exit thoughtfully, then snapped back to attention. "What was that all about?" Dan asked, still looking suspiciously at the door.

"She's starting trouble again," Pietro said, "And it wasn't even with the stupid porcupine, either."

"What now?"

"She put one of those stupid bombs into that new girl's hair."

Dan cast in his mind for a mental picture of the girl in question, and came up blank. "In her /hair/?"

"Well.... In a long braid, anyway."

That brought a face to mind, a round, expressive face capped by a coil of hair that fell to mid-waist. Not a pretty girl, but not particularly ugly, either. "Her?"

"Yeah," Pietro said, "She's lucky /I/ was there or she would've been lynched."

"Would not!" Boom Boom yelled from upstairs.

"Don't listen to her," Pietro said dismissively, "She doesn't know what she's talking about. Anyway, got things to do, things to see, people—X-geeks—to bother – remember we're going to Papa's later. Seeya later, slowpoke." And he was there and gone, leaving Dan to his books.

Now that there was nothing to force him to concentrate on reading On the Road, Dan's attention wandered as he looked off into the distance. The scenery of Bayville was insufferably quaint. There was, in the far distance, the silhouette of New York City, and closer, but still on the horizon, was the skyline of Bayville City. In the immediate sight, though, were the rolling green stretches of suburbs, dotted with white houses and sanitary streets.

Disgusting.

There was always Kerouac. He went back to reading.

X

The scissors made vague clicking noises as they danced along the bottom edge of the half-braid, steady in Rahne's hands. Fiona tried not to wince. "Nothing fancy, please? Just take off the singed bits?" No response from Rahne, who continued snipping blithely without acknowledging the instructions. "Rahne, I'm serious!" Fiona pulled away from the scissors to examine the damage.

Considering that it was all amateur, the changes weren't bad. Straight brown hair hung evenly below the shoulders. Fiona had never been interested in looks, and usually just left the braid on for the entire week. As a result, Fiona's head usually resembled a small bird's nest. Her entire face looked different now, and she wasn't sure if she liked it or not.

"Do you like it?" Rahne asked eagerly, accent tripping lightly over consonants.

Faced with such enthusiasm, there was little Fiona could do except smile uneasily and nod. "Yeah, it's great."

"Great!" Rahne said, "Let's go!" Some of the younger members of the school were going to Papa's, the local pizzeria. Ray was old enough to drive and he had his own car, so they managed to shove quite a few people into his much-abused pickup. Bobby and Fiona sat in the back, jolted to and fro as the truck moved; inside sat Rob, Sam, Rahne, Amara, and Jubilee.

Bobby and Fiona grinned as Ray's somewhat suspect driving skills threw them forward. Bobby yelled cheerful curses into the truck, but Ray and Rob were arguing again, and no one heard. Ray had blown through a red light and almost gotten ticketed for speeding before they'd even gotten to Papa's. "Hey, Crisp!" Bobby exclaimed as he hopped from the truck, "What, did you forget that we were in the back?"

"You'd expect /him/ to remember?" Rob joked, earning a glare from Ray.

Papa's was decorated simply, but in a way that guaranteed appeal to slightly geeky teenagers. Cartoon memorabilia adorned the walls. The alcoves, which opened into rooms for a larger party, were decorated in motifs, such as Superman or Wonderwoman. The X-Men had claimed the Batman room, and piled into the seats.

The waiter had already taken their order when the bell tied to the door tinkled softly. "Oh, wonderful," Rob muttered, "Look who's come to spoil the party."

The group of teens that entered bore the distinctive features of the Brotherhood. Trailing behind was the silent green-haired boy. Pietro led the way, arguing loudly with Tabitha. "No, I do /not/ think you're pretty. Stop asking!"

"But /Speedy/! I'm so lovely, how can you NOT like me?"

"Besides, Pietro thinks he's prettier than you," Todd snickered.

Lance and Fred guffawed as Pietro glared at them, words tumbling over each other in their eagerness to escape. "You think that's funny, eh? You think you're a comedian, don't you? Regular Michael Palin!"

"Ah," Bobby said, "You okay, Fiona?"

"I'm fine," she said, puzzled, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well.... I just thought.... You know...."

Fiona quirked her mouth into an approximation of a grin. "I can deal. Really. I'm not a baby, Bobby."

"Why would you automatically assume she'd be scared?" Amara demanded.

Sam nudged the girl in the ribs. "You have to be nice to people, too."

"So look who it is," Lance called from across the room, "The X-Geeks."

"That's really getting old, Alvers," Rob yelled back, "But you guys are too fucking stupid to think up a new insult."

"It's not old, it's a classic," Pietro retorted.

"Leave us," Amara said in a commanding voice.

"We've got as much of a right to be here as you, bitch!" Fred growled.

Affronted, Amara leaped to her feet—surprisingly, Rob was the one who restrained her, even though his face was flushed red in anger. "Shh, irmã pequena," he muttered, "We can't start anything here."

Lance walked up to their table, eyes narrowed. "Why is it that every time we try to have a good time, you idiots ruin it?"

"Same thing goes for you," Bobby said.

Fiona frowned and edged off to the side – if this erupted into a fight, she couldn't use her powers – not yet. She had no change of clothes. All she could do was wait, nervously.

Tension in the air, choking her lungs. She could /smell/ it—

Oh /no/.