Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.

Author's Notes: And, here's another chapter. I've decided that pretty much every chapter is going to begin with a brief visit to Pietro!speed, before we return to the bulk of the plot with the rest of the gang. There will be chapters in the future with all Pietro, and other chapters with just the others. So bear with me.











~

It was a long, cold journey down an endless, winding road.

Pietro's first instinct was to run, run like hell until something snapped and he blew into a million pieces. Or maybe if he ran fast enough he would exhaust himself and slip back to normal speed.

But something told him that if he ran any faster, it would only make things worse.

So he forced himself to walk at a heavy, resigned pace, moving with trudging, shuffling movements like a prisoner walking to the gallows. He was somewhere on the road into Bayville, the house at his back, the road at his feet, and a seemingly empty world before him.

He glanced into the sky and saw birds suspended in their flight.

He walked down the highway and saw cars sitting at a standstill on the road.

Walking up to a Corvette that dawdled there lifelessly, he surveyed its' sole occupant. A young woman was behind the wheel, one hand on it and the other holding a cellphone to her ear. Her mouth hung open in the middle of forming a word.

Pietro kicked her tires and moved on.

He was frustrated, and stressed, and he felt hyper tense all over his body. A twitchy anxiousness filled him, giving him an erratic gait that made him weave from side to side in the road.

He got the absurd notion that he could run to the moon.

Top Gear was wearing on him already, and he struggled to keep it under control. A sort of speed-induced madness was trying to creep into his mind, and it took a good deal of willpower to harness it and hold it at bay.

But how long could he keep such a feat up?

Such monumental battles cannot be fought alone.

And he was alone, now, more alone than he had ever been. More alone than when they had taken Wanda, more alone than when he had woken up in the night in the grips of some nightmare to find himself in willing isolation, more alone even than when he had turned his back on his friends to stand by a pillar of ice and abuse.

Loneliness is a bitter thing to witness, but even more horrible to endure.

So he started chewing his fingernails, an old nervous habit he had thought long since broken.

Funny how things can come back to haunt you like that.

~

The Jeep sat outside the gates of Xavier's mansion, as though the car itself dreaded venturing onto that hated turf. Behind the wheel, Lance chewed his lower lip thoughtfully and briefly pondered this peculiar situation. How long ago had he stomped out of those gates, swearing to himself he would never return? How long ago had he turned his back on this place for what he thought would be forever? And now here he was, about to willingly return.

Life could sure be a bitch.

The gates opened automatically, probably sensing the car and thinking it was Summers and the Brat Pack coming back from school. Sometimes it was a blessing to be expelled; gave them convenient time slots like this to fraternize with the enemy without the enemy's bratty students wandering around.

Stopping at the door, Lance sucked in a deep breath and gave the others what he hoped a confident, reassuring look.

"Okay," he said faintly. "Here we go."

And up the steps they went to knock timidly on the door.

"At least you're not quaking your way in this time," Todd attempted a feeble joke, but Lance silenced him with a murderous glare.

Wanda sensed that something was up. Tensions were unusually high. Something big had definitely gone down here that she did not know about. Pietro was the historian who had filled her in on all the Brotherhood's biggest exploits, but what she and Lance did not know was that he had preserved the rock tumbler's reputation by tactfully avoiding the Lance-wants-to-be-an-X-Man period.

Still, Wanda knew at once that something was being kept from her. What dark chapter in the Brotherhood's history had her brother shielded her from?

The other boys knew, and they felt guilt, because they were suddenly reminded that Pietro was not the first one of their group to turn traitor.

~

When Logan answered the door, the last thing he expected to see was the entirety of the Brotherhood camped out on his doorstep. He sent a hasty mental plea to Charles to get his ass down here and assist him.

"Well," he drawled. "Look what the Lance dragged in. Welcome back, earth-shaker. Here for another round?"

Lance glared at him with a ferocity hampered by weariness.

"Actually, I don't think you guys could handle a real mutant on your team."

"I could say the same about you."

Tempers were being kindled, and things would have probably escalated into a fight had not a friendly voice interrupted them.

"Ah, Lance! What brings you here?"

Professor Xavier had arrived, and he brought with him all his usual tranquility and calm. To Wanda, he was instantly familiar in a strange, deja vu kind of way.

But the Brotherhood boys suddenly found themselves at a loss for words. What were they going to say? "We need help"? "Pietro's gone off the deep end"? "Do you know how to stop an out of control speed demon"?

"Something's wrong..." Lance began lamely.

"Real wrong." Todd added helpfully.

"Yeah... wrong..." Fred echoed.

Logan spared the Professor a raised eyebrow.

-Well, what do we do with them, Chuck?-

-Perhaps we can get them to explain a bit more.- Then, out loud, "Would you care to elaborate?"

"It's Pietro." Wanda stepped forward. "Something's happening to him and he can't control his speed. He told us you would be able to help."

Both the Professor and Logan noticed the absence of the speedster simultaneously, and Xavier was gradually opening himself to them and feeling the intense fear and worry radiating off of them.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"Who knows?" Todd said bitterly. "He took off and can't hit the brakes."

"Are you meanin' to say that Speedy is runnin' around so fast we can't see him?" Logan didn't want to buy the idea that the biggest maniac in Bayville was now invisible.

"What do you think?" Lance snarled.

"That's what seems to be the case, Logan," Xavier said softly. And to the rest of them, "Perhaps you'd like to come inside?"

~

The Brotherhood settled into the fancy livingroom with stiffness and very little grace.

Fred sat on the floor, absurdly terrified of shattering that beautiful, dainty-looking furniture.

Todd sat smack in the middle of a luxurious couch, his hands trapped between his knees and sitting absolutely still, lest he destroy something.

Wanda, out of all them, seemed to care the least. She slumped onto another couch and buried her face in her hands, trying to shut out the sights and sounds of prosperity all around her.

Lance, being the leader at the moment, found himself taken to another room for a quiet conference with the Professor.

~

"...and since Pietro's been in here before, we figured he must have seen stuff in that medical place that can fix him. So we came here."

Tired from the retelling of the whole, stressful story, Lance accepted the cup of black coffee that Logan offered him. He took long, moody sips from it as the Professor asked him an array of careful questions.

"Has Pietro ever lost control like this before?"

"Only that one time I told you about, and he came right back."

"Has he been taking any drugs, like Speed or Ecstasy, that might have triggered this?"

"No, none."

"Does Erik- rather, Magneto know about this?"

The last question made Lance slam his coffee cup back on the table in surprise.

"Well, yeah... I guess... yeah, Wanda told him."

Maybe that was the wrong thing to say; Xavier passed a weary hand over his eyes and looked very grave indeed. He knew that it wouldn't be long before Erik showed up searching for his son, whether out of affection or merely in the way one looks for some useful tool they have misplaced. And if Erik and Wanda were to have a confrontation, things could get ugly.

But still, Kurt had reported what sketchy details he had of what had been done at the ski resort, and that was promising in the effect that it suggested there would be no conflict.

Now for the task at hand.

"Thank you, Lance, for coming to us. I'm sure it was the right thing to do. I suggest you return to your friends now."

The boy nodded and left the room in lost silence, his coffee growing cold on the table. Xavier turned to Logan and said,

"Send Hank in here. He's going to be needed."

~

As Lance told the story, the rest of the Brotherhood was left in a painful, awkward silence. Wanda asked Todd why he was sitting so stiffly, and he gave her the hissed answer that it was the only way to keep himself from breaking everything in the room. Why?, she had asked, to which he responded: "I break expensive things. It must be part of my mutation."

As they waited in this tension, they were watched from across the room.

"I've always felt sorry for them."

Ororo Munroe gave this comment in a whispered voice to her companion, Hank McCoy, as the two adults watched the group from a half-open doorway.

"No kids should be expected to support themselves so young." He agreed in the same soft tone. "It just isn't right. It makes you wonder where their parents are."

"I lie awake at night thinking about, no joke. I wonder about that little Tolensky boy, and Fred, the poor thing. How young were they when they starting fending for themselves?"

"Very young, I'll wager. That kind of survival instinct takes years to cultivate. It's the only thing that can keep you alive, sometimes."

"Do you ever wish we could keep them here? Keep them safe and well-fed?"

"They're not stray dogs, Ororo. We can't just take them in and give them collars and licenses."

"Hank, I'm serious. They're only children, not soldiers of war. They shouldn't have to live like that."

"They use younger children as guerilla warriors in some countries."

"But this is America. We're above that."

"Are we? Tell me we're above that when we're training fifteen-year olds in the Danger Room to fight battles too big for them to handle."

"It just doesn't seem right with them, though. They don't get any training at all, and then they're expected to fight a war for a cause I'm not sure even they believe in."

Lance appeared in one doorway, and the teens all seemed to lean towards him in anticipation. He gave them a forced smile.

"I think it's gonna be okay. I think they're gonna help."

The relief was tangible. Ororo wanted to go to them, to offer them something to eat or drink or anything, but then Logan materialized as well and the silence fell again, stiff and brittle.

Logan, for his part, ignored them efficiently and went right to the doorway the two adults were hiding behind, smelling their scents from all the way across the room and blowing their cover. Ororo darted back into the kitchen and hoped to preserve the image that she had just been passing by.

Hank, in the meanwhile, would have no such luck.

"The Prof's lookin' for ya, Blue. Things are pretty serious."

Nodding solemnly, Hank McCoy decided to go into this situation with all the detachment and professionalism of a doctor.

He would not get emotionally involved.

He would not think of his patient as a child who could be dying.

He would not be able to handle it if it was that way.

~

When Logan and Hank left the room, the Brotherhood grouped together in a protective huddle on one sofa. Todd sat in the same place in the middle, with Lance and Wanda on either side, and Fred sitting in front on the floor and facing them.

It reminded Ororo of how the zebra herds grouped together in her native Africa, with the stronger ones supporting and protecting their weakest member.

This was only further proved when Lance put an awkward arm over Todd's shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze and saying, "Hey, it's gonna be okay." The smaller boy nodded half-heartedly.

Finally summoning the courage to face them, she walked into the room with a warm smile.

"Can I get you anything to eat or drink?"

"Sure." Fred grunted. "Anything. Everything."

Eating was therapy for Fred. He would eat a car tire if someone put it before him now, he was that nervous.

The others either nodded or shrugged, so Ororo took it upon herself to bring them a generous tray of cookies and snacks.

~

But in the kitchen, she received a telepathic message from Jean.

-Hey, Ororo, Kurt wants to know when lunch is.-

Confused, she sent back, -Why? Aren't you eating at school?-

-We had a half day, remember? We're on Christmas break, now!-

She remember stupidly that Christmas was in a week. Dropping the cup she was carrying, Ororo suddenly realized something that was definitely not good.

The X-Men were coming home to find their worst enemies in their livingroom.

Not good at all.

~