Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within.

Author's Notes: Ta da! Boy, don't you guys all love me? Wish me luck on my NYU application; they have a dramatic writing program to die for.

This chapter is in Lance's POV.

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I don't know how much longer I can do this.

Being the leader. The big brother. The one that everyone looks to when things go wrong.

It's tough. Especially because most of the time, they don't want me to be. They sneer and roll their eyes and say, "Geez, Lance, who made you the boss?" And then when there's trouble, it's all, "Lance, what should we do? Lance, what should we do? Lance, Lance, Lance!"

Pietro knew.

He hated it. Hated trying to be the boss. When Magneto put him in charge, I could see how unhappy he was. He didn't like the responsibility, didn't like all the extra stuff he had to do. Had to keep tabs on everyone, keep an eye on everything. That's why he quietly, subtly, handed the reins over to me.

And now I'm stuck.

Again.

It used to be my job. I got out of it, somehow. I can't remember how. Just remember that one day, I didn't have to do it anymore. Didn't have to lay awake at night worrying about every single tiny little detail. I could sleep. Let Pietro stay up all night. It's his turn, anyway.

Nope.

He didn't give me that much time to rest before he was wiggling out of it and scampering back to his position of reckless comic relief.

Thing is, I'm not sure if I'm any good at this anymore.

It's been a while.

It used to be instinct. I could just storm into a situation and take control. I could make decisions in the blink of an eye, without having to think about whose feelings might get hurt. I was a good leader, worthy of Magneto's little army.

Something happened, something that shook me out of it.

I'm not sure what.

But one day, I started to doubt. I started to think twice. I was second-guessing myself for the first time in years.

Was it Kitty?

I don't think so. Kitty was a factor, but not the whole problem. It was...

Pietro.

When Pietro ran away from us on the day of the Sentinel, he ran away with everything I ever took for granted. He ran away with my confidence, my courage, my trust. And he still hasn't given them back.

Before Pietro left, I thought I had a brother. A guy that I could connect with, put my faith in, knowing that he would follow through on any promise he made. He made me feel like an adult. He treated me like a man. He wasn't into all that petty teen rivalry crap. He gave me a surprising amount of respect, and any teasing or bad-mouthing that he did was an innocent jest. Pietro never meant a single one of his insults. I knew this. It was a good thing to know, since he made so many of them.

He made me strong.

He followed orders. Sure, there was sarcasm and verbal sniping, but in the end, he did what he was told. Later, I would find out that he was taking orders from higher up, but that didn't bother me so much. I mean, so what? We got things done, no matter who was taking orders.

The next thing I know, he's gone.

I didn't really have time to think about it. Everything was happening very fast. The bad guys had Freddy imprisoned in one of those blob things, and it was up to me, the leader, to help get him back. Only once Freddy was safe did it start to sink in.

Pietro was gone. And he hadn't been taken from us. He had left. Of his own free will.

That really bites. I still haven't gotten over it. I try, I really try, to make things the way they were. Pietro tries, too. We're both working our asses off, trying to make a time machine. What betrayal? What arguments? What fight?

We had a huge fight the night he came back. Not like a yelling fight, either. More like a knock-down, drag-out fight. Out in the backyard. Started out with him sneaking out there to... smoke? Make a cellphone call? I don't know. I just followed him.

"You bastard."

"Get over it, Alvers."

"Get over it? Is that all you can say, get over it? You must think I'm stupid."

"No, I just think I'm the boss. And guess who else thinks so? That's right. Magneto."

"Well, I don't think so. And until your followers actually think they're following you, you've got nothing."

"Shut up. Now you're just talking to hear yourself sound all self-righteous."

"But you know I'm right."

"Says who? Right and wrong are defined by the circumstances. How do you think people can plead self-defense on murder? In these circumstances, either one of us could be right. I guess only God knows the answer."

I didn't know what to say. I was so frustrated because he had outsmarted me again and made me feel stupider than a rock. I thought I had him cornered, thought I was going to be the one making him feel bad. As usual, I was wrong. And it made me so angry that I couldn't speak.

So I hit him.

He didn't even hesitate, just slugged me right back.

And then we're just whaling on each other. Fists. Elbows. Knees. Feet. Heads. Anything we could hit each other with, we did. I had blood on my hands, but I didn't know if it was mine or his. I tasted blood in my mouth, definitely my blood now. And at one point, I had him pinned to the ground, arms behind him, and the fight could have been over. I could have held him like that until he cooled down.

But I let him up.

I wanted to keep hurting him.

By the time we were done, we were both seriously thrashed. We tried to crawl away from each other, but it hurt so bad to breathe that we couldn't even think about moving. We just lay there under the moon, focusing on bringing the oxygen into our lungs and sending the carbon dioxide out. It took a lot of energy and concentration. So much concentration, that I almost missed it.

"I'm sorry."

A croak, a whisper, a whimper. Sorry for what? For the fight? Or for the betrayal?

I don't know.

He ran away.

As usual.

And somewhere between then and now, I became the leader again.

In the bed across the room from mine, Todd flops around like a fish out of water. He's a restless sleeper. He always wakes up all tangled in his blankets, and he seriously has no idea what happened. One time, he was so tangled that he couldn't even get up, and he had to holler until me and Pietro could go in there and untangle him.

On the floor, Freddy is motionless. Unlike his little buddy, the big guy sleeps like the dead. Completely still. He's on a pile of unzipped sleeping bags, a makeshift mattress that won't break under his weight. He sleeps on the bare carpet at home, so even though the X-Men were embarrassed by him not having a bed, this is the lap of luxury for him.

These boys look at me like I'm the gladiator Maximus, leading his men fearlessly into battle. I feel more like the Cowardly Lion. There's a lot of pressure to be a good captain, to take control, to pretend I know what I'm doing, even though I'm completely clueless. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do!

Should I pretend he's going to be okay, even though I'm not fooling anybody? Or should I tell them what I really think?

I don't think he's coming back.

It breaks my heart.

And I hate it when movies have that ending line, "I'll always be with you." What the hell is that supposed to mean? Is that supposed to be some sort of consolation? Yeah, I'm dying, but you know what? I'll always be with you! Even though I'm dead!

Shit. I don't know what we'll do without him.

What will Todd do without someone to teach him checkers-chess-poker? What will Freddy do without someone to run to the 7-11 at three in the morning to get him an Icee the size of a standard garbage can? What will Wanda do without her twin?

Her twin, for god's sake.

I saw her at the end of the movie. She can't deal with this. She can't survive without him. I wish I could just pull a new Pietro out of a hat for her, somehow replace the old one. The old one was defective. There was a recall. Here's a newer, safer, nicer Pietro. Satisfaction guaranteed or your money back.

Or maybe she can take me.

Would that be acceptable? Can I fill the void that Pietro will leave behind? They're big shoes to fill, but I could manage, I think. I could be the guy that makes her smile. The guy that makes her feel special. The guy that gets all her attention.

Dammit.

I told you I'm not a good leader.

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