Chapter 12. Limits.

Hank motioned for Charles, Ororo, and Logan to come closer when they entered. Upon seeing Lance, Xavier and Ororo gasped and even Logan widened his eyes.

"What is this," Logan couldn't help snarling as he turned to Hank.

Lance's chest was covered in numerous scars, some years old, and more from less than a year ago. There were also a couple new wounds, but they were mostly mild to small scratches, with the exception of a long gash in his shoulder, extending down to his left arm, with some broken glass embedded in it. The worst of the scars were just healed enough to have been from a few month back.

"I'm not sure. The new wounds must be from the accident, but I don't know where he got the others."

"Some of them aren't more than a couple months old," Logan pointed out, looking at the scars again. "Like those," he rumbled, noticing that some of the scars looked strangely familiar.

"Yes," Hank agreed. "That's why I called you over."

"Where did he get them?" Ororo was troubled.

"I think we'd better call in one of the boys. Pietro, I think."

Hank, Ororo, and Logan turned to Charles at his words.

"You think it's a good idea, getting that hyper kid in here to see this?" Logan asked.

"I have a feeling he may already know about it."

Logan, Ororo, and Hank looked at each other, but Logan moved to the door and opened it.
"Hey kid, get in here," he ordered.
He saw the four sitting on the couch; it looked like Tabitha and Pietro were comforting the two in the middle. This was just getting weirder.

"Kid? As in?" Tabitha questioned.

"Not you. Speedy, get in here."

Pietro looked up and tensed at Logan's tone and expression. He let Todd slide completely over to Fred and got up, not even thinking to hide his worry and anxiety with an air of superiority, as he was his usual tactic.
"What?" he asked as he entered the room. The answer presented itself when he saw Lance on the table, shirtless. His face clouded darkly.

"Pietro, could you explain to us how Lance got these scars?" Charles asked.

Pietro closed his eyes and didn't answer.

From behind him, Logan looked at the white-haired boy. "Well kid? Talk."

"Logan," Ororo quietly said, having seen the boy's eyes just before he closed them. Sadness, sorrow was there. But something else had been there too. Shame? Guilt?

"It's all right Pietro, you can tell us. We will keep it a secret, if that is what you want," Charles assured.

Pietro stood still for a long moment before opening his eyes. "All right," he said in a defeated voice.

"Who gave him those scars?" Hank asked.

"Some of them he got before he came here..."

"And the others?" Ororo asked.

Pietro was silent.

"And the others?" Logan repeated.

Pietro flinched at the harsher tone, and answered, his voice subdued. "Mystique and Sabertooth... my fath- Magneto."

Logan looked from Pietro to Hank, Ororo, and Charles. He hadn't expected that answer. He had not even thought of Mystique or anyone specific as a matter of fact; he had expected that Lance had gotten them from some rough fights or something to that effect. But then he glanced at Lance, and realized which of the scars he had recognized.

"Sabertooth," he growled.

Neither Ororo nor Hank had expected such an answer either, nor what the words implied. Charles was silent, a shadow fallen on his face.

"Why Pietro?" Ororo asked, her voice calming.

Pietro looked down at the floor. His voice was quiet, both remorseful and dejected. "Sometimes because of Pryde. Other times... for other stuff. A lot of times..." he stopped.

"It's all right, go on Pietro," Hank encouraged reassuringly.

"A lot of times instead of us," Pietro said, his voice barely audible. He closed his eyes again, not looking up.

"What do you mean?"

Pietro didn't open his eyes, but answered the question.

"He took the blame for things we did, and when he couldn't make it seem like he was responsible, he did something worse so we'd be forgotten."

There was a silence. None of the adults knew how to respond.

"We never meant for him to take that; we didn't know about it for a while." Pietro's voice was hardly a whisper. "He never told us. Even after we found out, he told us it wasn't our fault."

He closed his eyes, gripping his hands into fists, straining to keep the memories away. But it had been awoken in his mind, and he couldn't stop it. Clearly he remembered everything that had happened that day.


(Flashback)

Lance wearily started up the staircase to his room, leaning heavily on the wall. He struggled against the pounding headache he had, but it was the least of his problems.

It was three in the morning, and he had left the house at nine during the night. How he was going to explain that to the guys, he didn't know. All he could think of was that he had fallen asleep outside, but that was hardly believable.

"Lance, where the hell have you been!" Pietro shouted, running out- from Todd's room, to Lance's surprise. "Todd's been going insane, he thought you left or something. The least you could do was call!"

Fred walked out of Todd's room as well. "Todd, he's back. See, he was just out a little late. There was no need for you to worry so much," he said, ducking back into the room. He came back out with a red-eyed Todd.

Pietro remembered Lance's surprised look at seeing them awake, and the way his expression changed at hearing their words. He remembered how pained Lance had looked to see Todd that way. He remembered how softly the older boy had spoken, mumbling apologies, telling them they shouldn't have stayed up because of him, that they shouldn't have worried because of him.

Todd had brightened up as soon as he had seen that it really was Lance, and he had jumped down the steps without even thinking, just reacting- to hug him, to the latter's surprise. Pietro had noticed how Lance had braced himself for the impact as soon as he realized what was happening. But he hadn't been able to help gasping in pain when Todd hugged him. Lance stepped back and slid down against the wall as Todd let go, confused.

Then it had dawned on them.

"Lance? Are you hurt?"


Charles picked up Pietro's thoughts without even trying; the emotions were so strong that he couldn't help it. When he saw the flashback he let out a mental sigh and silently relayed it to the other adults.


(Flashback)

"Lance? Lance!" Pietro ran down to help the oldest Brotherhood member, followed by Fred.

"Here," Fred had said, and the two supported Lance up the stairs; he had refused to be carried. Todd was beside them, fear in his eyes.


Pietro felt a tear flow down his cheeks and fall to the floor, followed by more. They left dark stains on the carpet. He was shaking, and tried to stop, to no avail. He remembered how Lance had been more worried about Todd than about himself that night; even as they walked up the steps to his room he had been murmuring that he was fine, trying to reassure the frightened boy.


(Flashback)

"It's all right Todd, don't worry. I'm fine," Lance said, his voice soothing.

"I'm fine really, it's all right. I'm really okay," he kept repeating, making sure the other boys heard him, especially Todd. They got him to his room and he sat down on the bed, though he felt like he was going to collapse.

"It's late, you guys need to get some sleep."

"Not until you tell us what happened," Pietro heard himself saying.

"'Tro..." Lance propped his arms on his knees.

"Lance, what happened?" Fred asked.

"Fred... Pietro... I'm fine... I really am, Todd."

"Lance, we're not leaving until we get some answers," Pietro insisted.

"Later." Lance didn't meet their eyes. "You guys need to sleep. Just go to bed all right? I'm fine, just tired."

"We-are-not-going-to-bed!"

Lance sighed. "Fred, take Pietro and Todd; get some sleep?"

Fred looked at Lance, his eyes showing his every thought- his concern for his friends, his loyalty to them, and his fierce determination to help. "Sorry Lance, I'm with 'Tro on this one."

"Todd?" Lance looked over at the youngest boy, his voice nearly pleading.

"How'd you get hurt, Lance?" Todd asked, his voice trembling.

Lance sighed. "If I tell you, you'll all go to bed?" he asked, resigned.

The three nodded vivaciously.

"Mystique took me to some place- an abandoned building, I think, and made this big fuss about how I always mess up the house and all. She also seems to dislike my hair," Lance said, a weak grin on his face.

Pietro, Fred, and Todd had been shocked, but had Lance acted as if he was reading the menu for the night's dinner. As if it was nothing.

"Now will you go get some rest?"

"Lance! What do you mean Mystique... she beat you up?" Pietro said, his voice trailing off.

"No! I'm fine, all right? Would you go sleep already?"

"Lance... how bad is it?" Fred managed to ask, and for a person of his size, his voice sounded extremely frail.

"It's not bad at all! I'm fine!"

"Lance, show us." Todd said softly.

"What?"

"Show us so we can get you something to help."

"I'm fine, guys! Just go get some sleep!" his words were rushed now, but he still tried to make it look like nothing was wrong.

"Lance..."

"Go sleep! Leave me alone and go sleep! I'm fine; don't worry over me!"

"I'm sorry Lance," Pietro ran over and quickly pulled Lance's vest and shirt off him. He dropped the shirt in shock when he felt something wet and sticky on it- it was soaked with blood; the dim lighting and black color of the shirt has simply been covering the crimson.

The three younger boys gasped when they saw the cuts, bruises, and gashes on his upper arms, chest, and back. There was no place on him that lacked blood or had no bruises.

Lance quickly snatched a shirt lying on the floor and put it on. "It's nothing."

"Todd, get the medicine box. Fred, get a towel soaked in water."

Pietro looked at Lance as the other two boys rushed to their tasks. "I don't believe this- I'm going to tell father about this, he'll make sure Mystique never does this again!" he shouted, unable to contain his anger.

Lance paled. "No Pietro, it's okay, don't."

"Look at yourself and say that! Look at me and say that!"

"Pietro... I'm fine."

"Don't lie to me, you suck at lying. I'm going to call father as soon as I get you some bandages or whatever you're supposed to do for this."

Lance sighed. He hesitated, but spoke before Todd or Fred could hear them.

"Pietro, he was there."


Ororo walked over to the boy and gently pulled Pietro closer. He let himself be hugged, though he was tense- rigid with mortification. "It's not your fault, Pietro."

"I... I let it happen. I never bothered to see how Lance was doing; I never thought to check up on him for once... he's always looking out for us," his voice broke. "And when I did find out... I... I didn't do anything." His shoulders shaking harder and his entire figure quivering, he felt tears falling down freely against his wishes.

"It's not your fault Pietro," Ororo hugged him tighter.


(Flashback)

"It's not your fault Pietro!" Lance grasped the silver-haired boy's shaking shoulders. "It's not your fault," he repeated firmly, looking at Pietro in the eyes as Todd and Fred re-approached the room. They stopped at the door, not knowing what to do.

"It's all right guys, come in," Lance said, letting go of Pietro's shoulders.

For a long while they were silent. Lance let Todd and Fred put some healing cream and antibacterial ointment on his wounds and bandaged himself.

"Why did she do this?" Pietro asked as Lance cut the bandage and tied the ends together.

"What?" Lance looked at him.

"You don't mess up the house... if anything you clean it up. You said it was because you messed up the house," Pietro said quietly.

Fred's eyes widened in realization; Todd froze.

"Lance... you took the blame?" Pietro asked, looking at him, wanting to be wrong but knowing that, for once, he was dead right.

"No guys, it's not like that! I busted up Mystique's stuff and she just got pissed. You know how she is. One minute she's fine, the next she's screaming bloody murder and ready to kill you," Lance explained, trying to make them believe him, trying desperately to make them believe him.

"Lance... why'd you do it? We can take a little..." Fred whispered, his words breaking off, his voice unnaturally soft for someone of his dimensions.

"Guys believe me, it wasn't like that."

"Damn it Lance, you shouldn't have to take the responsibility for something you didn't do! You don't have to be the one covering for the rest of us all the time!" Todd shouted, breaking into sobs, his shoulders heaving.

"No Todd, it wasn't like that. Please..." Lance got off the bed and sat down on the floor next to Todd, putting an arm around him, drawing him close, resembling what a father would do for a child. "It wasn't like that. I was stealing some money from her, broke something in the process, and she caught me in the middle of it and was just ticked off. I'm telling you, it wasn't like that," he said, his words strong.

"You know how she is, she has those must-kill urges. I wasn't so good at keeping my temper either. And she hates it when I argue withher or talk back. It wasn't like that. I swear, it wasn't like that at all."

After a long moment, Todd looked up at him. "You swear?" he managed to say.

"I swear Todd. It's just me. You have to believe me."

Todd looked at him, finding comfort in Lance's chocolate brown eyes. "I believe you," he said at last.

Lance mentally sighed in relief and looked over to Todd and Fred. "You believe me too right?"

Fred shifted uncomfortably, remaining silent.

"Come on Fred, I'm always in trouble for something or other. I just got caught sooner this time, before Mystique cooled down."

Fred looked at Lance. He hesitated but finally nodded. "You're okay?"

"'Course I am. And I won't get caught the next time, so don't worry. I'm fine; you guys exaggerate everything. It's no big deal. Pietro?"

Pietro felt Lance's steady gaze on him. He didn't believe a word of it. But if he said no, Todd and Fred would be upset all over again, and that would in addition hurt Lance even more.

"...I believe you."

He saw Lance relax. After a few more minutes, Lance sent them to bed, saying if they bothered him any longer he'd get no rest as well. Todd left after one last confirmation that Lance was fine, that he'd be in his room after a minute to check up on him, and that he would be there in the morning as always. Fred asked if Lance wanted anything, to which Lance replied: "I want you guys to leave me alone and sleep. I've been saying that all night, go do it already," Fred gave a small grin back at Lance and left.

Pietro lingered behind and waited till he heard the doors of the other rooms close before speaking.

"Lance..."

"Come on 'Tro, sleep," Lance's voice was imploring.

"Lance, why do you always have to be the one taking the blame? Can't you just let yourself stay clean for once? We can handle things for ourselves you know."

"I know Pietro... I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? See, why are you the one apologizing all the time? I don't get it Lance, you have nothing to apologize for most of the time, but you're always the one doing it."

"Pietro..."

"I don't get it, why do you have to take the blame... why can't you just worry about yourself for once..." Pietro broke out, tears in his eyes. But he refused to let them fall, wiping them quickly so Lance couldn't see them.

Lance put a hand on Pietro's shoulders, subtly holding on.

"I don't take the blame Pietro. You gotta trust me on this. I just happen to get into trouble a lot. It's always been like this. This is me being me. It's just me." Lance said as he drew Pietro closer in a comforting embrace.

Pietro looked at him, not sure whether to believe him or not.

"I mean it. This is just the way I am. I'm the one that gets into trouble, I always have been. So don't worry yourself over me."

Pietro stared at Lance for a long time before he let himself believe Lance's words.

"All right."