The mother of all cramps made a wakeup call at precisely 5:34 am. Todd's reaction was to grab his pillow and press it to his mouth while his body curled into a ball. He waited patiently for it to pass, too used to this routine to hope for a fast recovery. The cramp continued steadily for ten seconds and then broke off into pulses. Todd knew better than to move.
Once free from pain enough to move, Todd was allowed to focus on the nausea. He had mere seconds to make it to the bathroom. His feet hit the ground unevenly and he banged his shoulder against the doorframe on the way out. Todd made it with barely enough time to slam the bathroom door behind him.
"Aw, jeezus, puke quieter!" he heard someone complain down the hallway as he gulped for air. Todd flushed before the barf smell could make him sicker. He leaned against the sink and splashed his face with cool water. His hands felt scaly and rough, but they felt good going across his face.
What he needed now was a shower, but he was going to have to go back to his room for his clothes and then find a clean towel somewhere. His body didn't want to move that much, but it did want to be soothed, so it let Todd stand up and walk back to his room.
He didn't expect to see Pietro standing in the hallway, listening at Sara's door.
"What the FUCK are you doin'?"
Pietro jumped. "Oh."
"I don't care. Just get the fuck away and leave her alone."
Quickie didn't move. Now he was staring at Todd. "Did... did you...? How could you tell? Lucky guess?"
"Huh?" Todd was in no mood for babble. "I don't CARE what yo' doin', I said get the fuck away from her door, foo."
Oblivious to anyone else's discomfort save his own, Pietro got directly into Todd's face. "Hey, YOU'RE the one who brought this freak to this house, and I for one would like some fuckin' answers. What kind of freak IS she?"
"Oh, so she's a 'she' now?"
"I SAW her. I saw EVERYTHING."
It took a moment for it all to sink in.
"Yo spied on her while she was naked?!" Todd growled dangerously quiet, all previous illness forgotten in favor of red-hot rage.
"Ain't my fault she's a fuckin' exhibitionist--"
"Yo punk ass is goin' DOWN!" Todd pounced before Pietro had any warning. Both went crashing to the floor and Pietro threw his hands up under a flurry of blows. He managed to grab Todd's wrists and tried to roll over and pin him, but the smaller boy wasn't having any of it. Todd and Pietro wrestled across the floor cursing loud enough to wake the dead. Lance's door burst open just in time to watch the quarreling mutants disappear over the top step. From there it was a long series of bumps and screams to the first floor.
And even then it didn't stop. Pietro managed to get up, but only half way; Todd grabbed onto his legs and caused him to crash back down again. Lance cursed and jumped down the stairs two at a time to stop them. Pietro was alternately clawing Todd's face and hands, which were locked around his throat by the time Lance reached bottom. Lance grabbed Todd around the waist and lifted, shaking him until he let Pietro go - which was no easy feat.
Lance dumped Todd onto the ground and planted his feet on either side of Todd's waist. This effectively pinned the boy in place and left Lance's hands free to keep Pietro away until this was settled. Pietro was currently curled up into a ball, massaging his throat and wheezing.
"What," gasped Lance, "The hell did Pie do to make you freak out like that? Huh?"
Todd was also gasping from effort, and shuddering as his body filed complaints for the heavy abuse it had taken to do battle. "He... he spied... pervert. On Sara." Todd was ready to add plenty more, but he'd depleted his energy resources. "Guh..." Todd's eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out on the floor.
Sara had adjourned from washing up to find the threatened snow shovel, then recalled that bare feet weren't the wisest thing to have when clearing out a mess of this magnitude. She had special collapsible boots for that kind of thing, somewhere in the depths of her bag. And some gloves.
The rest would bide for a while, and it wasn't as if anyone actually cared what she looked like, right now.
"Yo punk ass is goin' DOWN!" Todd shouted to someone outside. There were screams, thumps, crashes, and the unmistakable sound of live bodies tumbling down the stairs.
The boots, for all their pliability, had amazing traction. She was out of the door in a second or less, snow shovel and work gloves still in her hand.
There, at the bottom of the stairs, was Todd. Unconscious, bruised and battered. Leaning over him was none other than Lance Alvers, known thug.
It was common knowledge that he beat up a large number of Remedial Ed. kids in order to gain their lunch money.
Sara saw red.
Some part of her that was still calm and rational watched the following events as if watching a movie through a fog.
The shovel became a handy weapon.
A hideous, shrieking ululation issued forth.
The vision of Alvers' horrified face became larger as charging footsteps thundered in her ears with her heartbeat.
"NowaitIdidn't--!"
CLANNNNNNNNGGGGGGG!
Vibrating metal transferred into the wooden handle and thence into her hands. Her vision included Maximoff, huddled on the floor. Close to Todd.
Entirely. Too. Close.
The shriek turned into a snarl.
In retrospect, Pietro was extremely lucky that he had the wits to scrabble away. He was also lucky that Freddy arrived, sized up the situation, and neatly trapped Sara in a surprisingly gentle hug.
As soon as Sara came back to herself, she stopped resisting outwardly, and fought that mighty rage down into a box inside her mind. It was still prone to fight, so she piled it over with some of the heavier boxes already sealed tight and fortified against outbreaks.
When she opened her eyes, she was standing on her own two feet, Freddy hovering nearby. She still had a death-grip on the shovel.
Todd was still out of it.
She couldn't make herself let go of the shovel, darnit.
Sara picked Todd up with her free hand, cradling him on her legs and the crook of her shovel-weilding arm.
She was shaking.
Hand, be still, she commanded, forcing her hand into stability as it felt for Todd's pulse.
Strong. Even. A little fast, perhaps, but strong and even were good signs.
His breathing was even and clear. Pupils unresponsive.
Mutant abilities, from what she was told, required an increase in energy intake. She had been craving far more protiens, herself, of late.
And the fight... sudden energy expenditure in a time of metabolic need...
Oh dear.
"Freddy? Do you have any honey?"
"Nope," he said with absolute certainty. "We don't got a lot of nuthin'."
"You don't have much of anything, dear," she corrected. "That will not do. Freddy, I'll need my cellular. You know where I keep it." A remembered remark about feminine products made her glare at Pietro. "And I'm certain someone ELSE does, too."
Pietro whimpered and attempted to cram himself further into the wainscotting.

Tabby woke up grumpy. First, someone was awake at fuckit-past-sparrow-fart in the morning and SINGING, for fuck's sake. Second, someone had had a minor fit up and down the hallways. THEN Todd fucking Tolensky had had to have his morning puke session until she'd had to yell at him to shut the hell up.
And to top it all off, someone had evidently decided to declare a freakin' WAR.
Tabby managed to stumble into her clothes and ricochetted off Freddy on her way down. There was no other word to describe the scene below but - scene.
Essel was cradling Tolensky and hanging onto a snow shovel - of all things - and sending glares of death off at Alvers and Maximoff.
Alvers was recovering his senses and sprouting a lovely goose-egg of a bruised lump on one temple.
Essel's shovel had a Lance-sized dent in it.
"This," Tabby announced, "Has got to be one fuck of a story."

Sara didn't even bother to answer her. She was watching Todd with a blank expression. Her mind was in another realm.
Freddy returned with the cellular and not a moment too soon. Tabitha had grown tired of chanting "Earth to Eeeesseeellll, Essel phone home?" and was now prepared to toss a bomb to get a reaction out of someone.
The thought had never crossed her mind to pester Alvers or Pietro for information, and they weren't about to offer themselves as distractions. Alvers was still moaning about goats eating his jeep. Freddy handed Sara the cell. He then stepped between her and Tabby to serve as a living bomb shelter.
"Hey, Freddy! What's the big idea?"
"She's gotta make a call. Shhhh!"
"Whatever." Tabby pouted, but she was all ears.
Beepboopboopbeepbeepboopbeep The call went through and was picked up after the first ring.
"Bernie's Bargain Basement Delivery Service, how can I help you?"
"Hi, this is Sara Adrien. I'm putting in an order. I need the Express delivery."
"Allright ma'am, regular address?"
"No, I'm at the Brotherhood Boarding House, 6426 Pikers Street." Damn, at least she thought that was accurate. "How fast can you get here?"
"Within twenty minutes or free of charge. What do you need?"
"I need Sue Bee Honey, Lysol Disenfectant spray - better make that three bottles..." Sara rattled off several more items including foodstuffs that Freddy wasn't swift enough to protest, then checked Todd's skin. "And calamine lotion. Definitely."
"Will that be that all?"
"Yes."
"Delivery will be there soon. Have a nice day."
"Thanks."
Sara hung up and started to stand up, attempting successfully to juggle Todd, the shovel and the cell phone all at once. Fred helped her out by prying her fingers off the shovel. It was a far easier task than relieving her of Todd.
"You can set yourself down on the couch while we wait."
"No, Freddy. I have to get into something more presentable within fifteen minutes. They say twenty, but if Steve's behind the wheel and coming for me here, he's going to be exceeding highway speed limits. He worries too much."
"Uh, who's Steve?"
"He works there as a bagger and delivery boy. If it's him, you'll like him. He's a dear."
"So you're really going to pay for all that stuff?" Tabby wanted to know.
"Yes, is it such a surprising concept?" Sara replied, eyelashes fluttering.
"Hey, fuck you!"
"No thanks for the offer." Sara shifted Todd in her arms and began walking up the stairs.
"Wait a second, you haven't even told me what's going on!" Sara kept walking. Tabby whirled on Lance who was just now recovering back to coherency. "What's going on, Lance?"
"Uhhhh..."
Fred sighed and helped Lance up. "Let's get some ice for ya." He walked Alvers to the kitchen.
Pietro broke out of his whimpering state as soon as Sara reached the top of the staircase and disappeared around the corner. Tabby stared down at him expectantly.
"Weeelllll?" she drawled, rolling two glowing time bombs around in her fingertips.

Sara arranged Todd on the mattress as comfortably as possible, then dabbed at his face with water.
"Nnnhhhnnn..."
"There we go. Come back to me." She planted a little kiss on his lips, and nestled her face into his shoulder. Two shuddering breaths later and she was up and donning loose sweatpants and a long sweater to hide the flaps of skin. She'd be hot and scratchy for a bit, but it was a necessary evil. There was a good enough chance the delivery person was not going to be Steve.
She looked at the clock. Five minutes had passed. She dabbed at Todd's face some more and was rewarded with an eyelid flutter. Then his head moved to the side as he fought his way back to consciousness.
"Mother o' fuck," he squeaked, "Who went an' dropped th' house on me?"
Sara felt both relieved and giddy. She laughed and burst into tears all at once, gathering him up for a bone-creaking hug.

"Don't let her near me, she's a freakin' maniac!" Pietro shrieked. "She's a goddamn valkyrie dyke nudist frigid exhibitionist freakshow!"
Tabby was so distracted that one of her little boom-bombs went off in her hand. "GODFUCKINGDAMNIT!" She flapped the others into random places, where they promptly went off and scattered bits of detritous all over her. "I just want some fucking ANSWERS! Who the FUCK are you talking about, Pie?"
"Adrians(1)," Pietro panted. "She's a fucking psycho! She just played golf with Lance's frikkin' head."
"It's true," said Fred. "I guess she musta thought he'd tried to beat Todd up or something. It did look that way."
"Waitaminute, waitaminute. Are we talking about Essel?" She boggled. "Weedy guy, 'bout yae high," she gestured, "busts in on my quickies on a regular basis? Carries feminine things in his bag(2)? Essel the transie?"
"Oh, she's not a transie," said Pietro, shaking his head. "Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope. No way in heaven or hell. She's definitely a born-in-the-body girl."
"The fuck?" said Tabby.
"Saw it all this morning," Pietro whispered.
"I'll have the apricot pie, Ma," Lance burbled on the couch. "I like pie."
Freddy was concerned enough to just hand him the bottles of painkillers.
Pietro siezed her attention by way of her messed shirtfront. "You can't tuck and stand legs akimbo when you're naked," he confided into her ear. "She's definitely a she."
Tabby could see it in her mind's eye, now. Essel - or was it Adrians? - was the early-morning singer. The sight of hi-- her drove Pietro into the shocked fits up and down the hall. Then, somehow, he let it slip in front of Todd, who declared war.
Todd, never the strong fighter, fell in the fracas and, just as Lance was trying to find out if he was okay, Adrians decided Lance was the aggressor and went off the deep end.
That was, of course, assuming that Adrians wasn't off the deep end already.
"Saw it all..." Pietro was mumbling. "Oh. My. Fucking. God... Tabby... I touched a girls - girlie things! They were Maxi pads! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEUUWW!"
Tabby decided to wait for her retroactive revenge by proxy. The guy was suffering enough already. For now, at least.
Then the crimson tides of mortification welled up in her as she realized - she'd been seen in action by another female. Ick. Did that make her a secret lesbian? Showing off to another woman?
Part of her mind started running around in circles and going, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod, OmiGod...

Meanwhile, Sara made Todd comfortable on her vacated mattress. He was in no state to get up. Not yet.
But she couldn't worry about that now. She had an incoming delivery to sign for and she had to appear human.
Her sweats and jumper covered most of it. The forgotten work gloves sufficed to hide her hands... but what to do about her face?
Sara dug in her bag, looking for solutions and finding one in the rest of her hazmat kit. Face mask. Safety goggles. Head scarf.
She'd be covered from head to toe.
All she'd need was a decent glop of foundation around the eyes.
Yes.
Sara put away her shakes so she could apply the makeup, and cover up reliably. She even triple-checked her concealment in the handiest mirror before heading back down and resuming her refuse-eviction as if nothing had happened.
Pietro dissolved into shrieking hysterics when she came near him and zipped into the furthest corner he could find.
Scrreeeeeeeeeeeeeeet! HONKHONK!
That had to be Steve. Nobody else could pull up along half the length of the street.
An anaemic rattle that could have been a doorbell, followed by agitated knocking.
"Oh, Stephen, stop being such a wet hen," Sara chided as she opened the door.
"Whoah," said Steve. "This place seriously needs a visit from the cleanup fairy," he judged. "Too bad I have to work today."
"They'll have to settle for the cleanup androgene," said Sara, scratching her name in the allotted place on Steve's clipboard. "One box or three?"
"Four. I decided to add some basic vitamins and herbal uppers, given your order on the bulk foodstuffs. Looks like I should have included a pound of plaster and some of the spring paints. Maybe some gauzy curtains..."

Pietro stared as the delivery man prattled. This guy was solidly classified in Pietro's brain under the word "Rival". He possessed all the best features of the African and Asian races, finely-toned muscle, astounding taste in clothing and the sort of Fabio-esque locks that had the girls drooling.
What the hell was Adrians doing talking to HIM and kissing TODD?
Bound by the chains of morbid curiosity, he followed the strange duo out to the truck, where he was noticed.
"Pie-pie!" Cooed Steve. "I haven't seen you since I had to let you down. Why didn't you call? You're not still put out about the age difference thing are you?"
It was at that precise moment that Pietro noticed that Steve was wearing pumps.
A little bit of mental arithmatic added a cocktail dress and a lot of alcohol one fine May evening.
This time, he was certain, Xavier himself would have heard Pietro's mental scream.
"Okay," he announced. "This is just WAY too fucked up for me. I'm going to school." He ducked out of sight and lay on the speed.

"But you're still in your--" Sara sighed. "--jammies."
"Aw, don't fret," said Steve. "He's bound to find out soon enough."
"Knowing him, he'll pull it off as a fashion trend," said Sara, hefting a box. "Come on, ducks. I'll show you where the clean spot is."
"Sounds like a fortnight hazmat to me," Steve tisked. He had a box under each arm. "I must say, you're an excellent workout, darling."
"I do my little bit," said Sara. "Stacking those shelves has to work, too, you know."
Lance, still nursing the egg on his temple, moaned and tried to sit up. "...the fuck...?" he warbled.
"What happened to him?" boggled Steve. "I mean, aside from the horrendous mullet."
"He messed with the wrong woman's man," said Sara.
"Hey," said Tabby, buffing her nails against the staircase. "What did you mean, 'slow of mind'?"
Sara just grinned, though no-one could see it under her mask.

(1) Also a common misconception of Sara's last name.
(2) Of course she heard from Pietro.