A/N- It has been over a year since I updated this story. I've stopped making excuses. Time gets away from me but stories remain in my brain, so I never really notice how long it has been since I really updated. That's all I can say in my defense. I'm sorry. If you continue reading my work, I am grateful. If you don't... well.... really, I probably wouldn't notice, I'm so busy lately.

That said, I have reviewed my notes for the upcoming chapters and even the promised two sequels. I... I like what was planned... truly, I do. But... I've decided to put the old plans away and start anew. I started this story just after my eighteenth birthday and I last updated it just before my nineteenth. It is now about a month after my twentieth. I had planned to wait, to try to lengthen this to include... well... funnier bits and whatnot. I'm not going to. I'm diving head on into the belly of the beast and I hope you'll enjoy the ride.

Now it's time to meet the end of the Brotherhood I promised. These last few chapters, I hope, are up to my usual standards and you appreciate the emotions that go into this once purely humorous story.

Enjoy. Love, Sai-Chan.

Two months. That's how long it took for the phone calls to finally come to a stop. Every day, the phone rang and rang, baring the same frightening seven digits. No one in the Boarding House would answer. Then the answering machine would whiz to life and the screaming would start. At first, there were soft words and cooing, but it always ending in that loud, booming shouting and swearing to pick up. The phone would click off then. A minute later, that ringing would start up again. Every call, the threats got worse, more violent. Sometimes, there would come a banging on the front door, where Lance or Freddy would expel the unwanted visitor by flexing their muscles or rocking the ground. The calls would start up again when that sports car tore off the property. They wouldn't stop, no matter the hour. A few times, Pietro would get fed up and would answer to cuss and shriek at the caller before hanging up. It was a vain attempt. Nothing helped.

Eventually, though, the calls stopped. There would be a few hours in between them, then a day, then a couple days, and finally, none at all. That day was the fourth day in a row no screaming had traveled up the stairs to the corner bedroom where he sat. He was huddled against the wall, his legs pulled up to his chest, his gold eyes staring out through a curtain of tan hair. Toad listened to everything going on outside his private Hell, but never ventured out to see what was truly happening. To be honest, he rarely moved from that position. Every red flag his instincts gave him was constantly waving, leaving him in a perpetual state of flight. As an animal mutant, Toad had always been plagued with a heightened fight or flight sense of reality. After leaving the hospital, he'd been stuck in flight mode. There was no shaking that haunting fear that lingered from that all too real nightmare that had left him admitting the truth to Mr. McCoy.

Of course, with the phone ringing like in his dream, that was to be expected. Toad couldn't get rid of that desire to run and hide. Every time that phone rang his heart would jump to his throat and he could see that redheaded monster rising up from the darkness in his bedroom. He could see those blue eyes glowering down at him and that hand pulled back to lay another smack to his body. The threats morphed into his delusions. Wally wasn't just going to hit him the next time he saw him. Wally was going to kill him.

Toad had told someone. He had told McCoy about the abuse. Wally was going to kill him for it. He would know. He would know he told. That was the ultimate offense. Toad wasn't supposed to tell anyone what happened behind closed doors. As far as he was supposed to be concerned, nothing ever happened, Wally never hit him. Everyone else was crazy and the only sane person was Wally. But that wasn't true. Toad had never fully believed that lie. Somehow, he'd just gotten lost in the whispered sweet nothings and the undying fear of pain. Now he'd gone and told someone and he couldn't hide anymore. He had exposed the ugly truth and Wally knew about it and he was going to kill him.

That was all Toad could get out of his confession. He didn't care if everyone told him things were going to get better now. He didn't care if Kurt had looked so furious when it finally got out that, yes, Toad had been caught up in an abusive relationship. He didn't care that the elf has promised to get even with Wally for him. He didn't care if Lance swore he'd never see Wally again. He didn't care if he was safe and warm and cared for deep within the Boarding House where only mutants could get to him. He just didn't care. They were all wrong. Wally was going to kill him and there was nothing he could do about it.

Shivering, Toad closed his eyes and rested his forehead against his knees. His thoughts were interrupted then by the sound of footsteps heading over to his door. A wave of panic froze his stomach, despite the fact that he knew those thumping thuds of heavy boots on wood. There was a fleeting moment where he wanted to hide somewhere he wouldn't be seen, but he didn't. He just raised up his heavy stare when the door opened without a knock. Leaning in the doorway was Lance. For a moment, he looked just like his old male form. He was dressed in semi baggy jeans, a loose black shirt, a vest, and his hair was pinned back like it was when he worked on his car. Gloves were on his hands and he had that half smile on. Yet, he was a lot thinner, delicately built, with a swell of hips and the outline of a bosom. No, Lance was still the female Avalanche deeply involved with some girl named Brit that Toad had never met.

" Hey, Toady," he said in that drawling voice he could get when he was really tired, but trying not to show it, " I... I'm... going to pick up Brit. She's coming to dinner tonight. Uh... Fred's thinkin' of goin' over to Jeff's an' the twins are going out with... people, I guess. You okay with that?"

There was no answer. Toad just stared out through his hair, his eyes shining in the darkness of his world. Lance shifted his weight, tapping one of his boots. Those brown eyes blinked, but there was no expression on his face. They stared at one another, time passed, and then the older mumbled something as he ran a hand over his semi tan face.

" Look, I know... you're not feelin' like yerself... but... Kurt's downstairs. He says... he wants to see you. He sounded pretty desperate," that was where Lance left the conversation. The rock tumbler just turned and left the door wide open as he walked away to go get his girlfriend.

The toad was left looking out at the hallway. There, the light was flickering, about to die. Yet, a pool of a warm glow flooded into his room. Something about it was comforting, even though he couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps it was a sense of hope. He didn't know. He just swallowed drily and slipped off his creaking mattress. His feet were cold on the ground, but he ignored it. Toad just stepped quietly out of his dingy bedroom and shut the door. Silently, he slipped down the stairs as the front door shut and he saw Lance heading over to the Jeep where the others were waiting to be chauffeured around. Then he just turned his attention to the bright light of the kitchen. He headed that way. Inside, he saw Kurt sitting at the table, his mouth set in a frown that distorted his usually perky features. He was wearing the inducer, but he wasn't in his standard clothes. Instead, he was in a baggy green shirt and khaki pants. Toad figured those were his recreational clothing.

When Kurt didn't notice him standing there, he cleared his throat. The elf jumped and jerked his head towards the doorway Toad lingered in. The look was unreadable, there were so many emotions running over his face. The next thing Toad knew, however, Kurt had teleported in front of him and was holding him tight. The hug was unexpected. There was no warning. Kurt's arms were just suddenly around his shoulders and he was being smothered in that soft shirt as a flood of whispered German echoed in the quiet of the wooden place. Toad's eyes flickered wildly as he attempted to figure out what was going on before he just struggled to get away. This time, though, he was released. He wasn't restrained and fought with as he was used to. Kurt merely let go and weakly smiled down at him.

" I missed vou, Toad. I vas vorried you vere never gonna come down from your room," he teased as he gave a slight laugh that sounded almost forced. The tone to his dark eyes was anything but playful. Toad nodded solemnly in response, " Vhat? You look... like you have something to say? Am I... Am I... vhat's vrong?"

" Why you here, E-Elf Boi?"

" Vhat are you talkin' about, Toad?! Vhy am I here? Isn't that obvious?!" he exclaimed, his hands jumping up in his shock. There was a shake of the toad's head, " I'm here because you vere nearly killed and vhen you got out of the hospital, all you did vas lock yourself in your bedroom for nearly two months! I vanted to make sure you vere okay! Is that a crime? I vas worried!"

" I'm fine...." he lied without any conviction to his voice. There really was no denying the truth, he knew, because Kurt was one of those people that didn't take bull when they were fed up. He was definitely fed up.

Kurt had been the first person to confront him about Wally. He had been trying to catch him as he fell from grace for so much longer then anyone else. It was understandable that he was standing there now, at the bottom of that black hole, with his arms held up. This elf, this X-Man, had already shown that he wasn't just mildly concerned. He wasn't even furiously concerned like the others were. He was down right delirious with it. Every motion he made right then as Toad lied showed that loud and clear. His eyes narrowed and he began to struggle to breathe around his own fury. His hands tightened and there was a distinctive look of rage pouring into his face. Kurt was fighting not to explode, but Toad could even smell it on him. Somehow, though, he found himself not afraid of this fury. He knew that Kurt would never hurt him. He didn't know how he knew that, since he had previously been so afraid of any form of anger. Now he just swallowed and shook his head as Kurt opened his mouth to spew his disbelief.

" Can we go somewhere an' talk, Kurt? I need... ta talk ta someone... not here, though... W-W-W- he might come by... an'... Lance has a date anyways... an'... can we just go somewhere we can be alone?" he asked, almost begged, as he raised his fearful eyes up to that face. Kurt stopped short.

" If that's vhat you vant.... sure..."

With that, Kurt took Toad's hand in his and they vanished in a puff of smoke. Just as they did, the red sports car that had been circling the block came to a stop. He lowered his shades and cussed, glaring up at the vacant Boarding House. Mumbling then, Wally put the car back in drive and sped off.

" I'll find you, Tolanksy... I'll find you, don't you worry your pretty head over that...."

The place was a small poetry reading type coffee shop. It was like every other one in town, expect for one difference. This shop was owned by Adam's older sister, so his guests and him got to sit at a private booth away from everyone else sipping their steaming cups. That was where Pietro was swirling his coffee with mild interest to the fact that the poem being read was about an abusive father. He didn't really hear the words, though. He just saw brief flashes of his childhood, mostly of the night he was torn from his twin in the pouring rain. The memory would haunt him forever, he knew. Looking up and across the table, he was slightly saddened that he was the only Maximoff to be able to say that. Wanda didn't have any of those memories anymore. However, he had to admit, it was a true joy to see his sister smiling that reserved smile as Adam attempted to find some reason to drape his arm around her shoulders.

Sighing then, Pietro tried to block out the past as he drank some of his lukewarm drink. His sister looked at him with consideration, so he flashed her a smile. Her red lips parted to do the same when Adam finally got his arm around her. He proudly pulled his girlfriend close. Pietro couldn't help but snicker as a sinking feeling poured into his stomach. Seeing the two of them so happy together, although Wanda never truly expressed it, made him more then just slightly jealous. He had always wondered what a real relationship was like. He'd never known. As he'd discovered, he had always been a cheap trick, a piece of arm candy, even when he hadn't been trying to be. Now, he was just alone, drowning in his bitter coffee and reflecting on the past that had made him unable to connect on more then a superficial level. Before him was his sister, who was so like him in personality and yet she had managed to drop her walls to let in a little love.

So, why couldn't Pietro do the same?

There wasn't an answer he could find right then. How sorely hurt he had been to realize that he had to change his appearance to shake a terrible image. Now, with semi long blue hair and an outfit that consisted of black pants, a long sleeved blue shirt under a black T-shirt and leather boots, he looked like a completely different person. He looked like a blue verison of Wanda. Yet, he wasn't snuggling up to some poet like she was. He was just watching, alone, and cold. That was what got him. He had changed and still, he was alone. It was a chilling thought. Perhaps that was why he was cold. He knew it wasn't a perhaps.

Slowly, Pietro got to his feet and placed some money on the table to pay for his drinks. He muttered something about not feeling well and told Wanda he was going home. Her eyes probed his every motion and he felt as though she was reading his mind. Then her blue eyes narrowed in understanding and she allowed him to leave, knowing he wanted to be left alone. Pietro thus slipped out of the booth and ducked his way around people until he got to the exit. There, he left and stood in the alley that the shop was located in. Kicking a stone, the speedster began a long and thoughtful walk home. The air was beginning to get colder, but it fit his mood, so he didn't mind. The sky was gray and the world was empty to him. He just walked on as he turned his thoughts inside.

He didn't know who he was anymore. Before this transformation, he had just been Quicksilver, the deviant playboy blond bunny with a killer smile and a gorgeous figure. He had been a member of the Brotherhood, had a deep seeded rivalry with Evan, and loved to piss people off. Now, he was some Gothic girl swimming in a sea of depression he vaguely realized was probably clinical. He had slashes all over his arms, his hair was dyed a slight neon blue, and he couldn't work up a real laugh for anything. He didn't want to fight anymore, after having witnessed Toad be run through. The fighting had seemed so harmless until he realized just how fragile life had been. Of course, he knew that day had been the start of his utter downward spiral. He had never seen a friend fight for their lives before. Pietro had come face to face with reality in the harshest ways. As Wanda had always told him, that was the only way he ever learned.

The only thing he had learned, though, was that he hated what he had become. He had taken a deeper look at himself in those hours when they waited for news on Toad's condition. He knew Toad wasn't going to die, but he couldn't chase away a subtle fear deep within. For some time after that, the fear had built up until he could finally recognize it. It wasn't even fear, to be honest. It was something worse. Something far worse. It was a realization.

Pietro was just like his father. He had become his father.

When he wanted something, he just took it, no matter what. Then, when he was tired of something, he discarded it without a second thought. It didn't matter if that something was a video game or a human being. They were just toys to amuse himself with. Just like his father. Wasn't that why Magneto had shipped Wanda off to the mental institution? He had grown weary of dealing with her powers and had just decided to get rid of her. He kept Pietro, though, because that toy had yet to prove useful. Then, when Pietro was through being of service, he'd just tossed his away like a bad cold. He'd abandoned his children and everyone who ever got close to him. He turned on his comrades and turned people against each other just to prove a point. Pietro did all those things too. He'd turned on the Brotherhood before and had abandoned those he truly loved. He'd gotten in that car as Wanda had been dragged away. He'd never tried to free her. He even agreed to let her live in her delusional world of peace then deal with her anger. Yes, he was the spitting image of Magneto, in appearance and more.

The thought was sickening even then as he turned a corner and entered a lonely strip of the park to take a short cut home. Pietro shook his head. He didn't want to be like that anymore. He was tired of going home alone, while everyone else put their hearts on the line for someone. He was sick of himself. He wasn't like that deep down, he knew. Just who was he, though? That was where the problem was. In all his life, Pietro had never really looked below the surface, on anything, really. Now he was lost in his own sea of guilt over everything he'd done. He didn't know who he was and that alone was frightening. Having to face it by himself, however, was worse. There was no one to turn to. No one knew who he was behind the jaded laughter and two-faced personality but him. He'd never let anyone in. It wasn't their fault he couldn't turn to them. That was his own. He'd always been trying to be so perfect that, somewhere along the line, he'd forgotten to let people see who he was behind closed doors. Now, he wasn't even sure there was a real Pietro. He was just a sham, a lie, and he didn't know how to fix it.

" I just.... wish there was a way... to wake up..." he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he stopped next to a twisting oak tree. His blue eyes followed it up and down, taking in it's outspread branches and knotted roots, " Who the hell was I? Where did I go... behind all the smiles and tricks?"

Only a few fragmented pieces could be dug up from his past that Pietro could truly say was who he had been outside the doll he acted like around his father. There was Evan. The feelings of contempt were real. Did that mean he was petty and jealous in actuality? No, that wasn't it, he thought. The contempt had to come from somewhere. Why did he hate Evan so much? He turned his mind back to the past, back when he was a child and throwing paint on the boy's painting to make him cry. There had been no 'rules' to follow back then. He was just Pietro, not Quicksilver, and he was too young to act inhuman. How sad, he vaguely thought, that the last time he was himself was when he was still finger painting. Still, he could wrap his mind around one fleeting thought that had fueled those childish acts of sabotage.

Evan didn't like him. Or rather, Evan hadn't liked him. Pietro didn't like many people, not even back then, when they were in grade school together. Yet, he had wanted to play with Evan. He had wanted to do something with him. Evan hadn't liked him, though, and had turned him away. Had that been it? Rejection? No, he told himself, there was something else there. Even to date, when Evan turned him away or shunned him or anything of the sort, there was a deep pit of unresolved hatred. Every time he triumphed, there was fury, but not in the way when anyone else beat him. Every time someone liked Evan more, there was jealousy that couldn't be normal. He saw the rivalries of the others. Lance and Scott fought and shoved and bit and snarled like dogs fighting for territory. Toad and Kurt kidded and snickered and wrestled and laughed like brothers annoying each other. Pietro, he didn't fight like that with Evan. Their fighting was always too personal, too deep, and taken too far every single time. Pietro was the one who went to extremes like that, though, not Evan. Pietro had set up him for jail time because he scored a shot he hadn't. That was not normal. That was much deeper then some silly childish grudge because they didn't swing together on the swing set at recess.

There was something, some strange feeling, he could feel building up in him. There was a hatred there, that linked directly to Evan, that had dominated Pietro's personality. When his father had torn his world apart, nothing had seemed real. He had latched onto that one emotion and used it as a wall to fight reality. Now he had to bring that wall down. He had to locate the source of that hatred. What was it? It felt strange, light, bubbling in his core like an illness. He didn't think he would understand it, but the clarity of that moment nearly knocked him unconscious.

Pietro literally felt his eyes growing wider as he grabbed hold of the oak to steady himself. That hatred was linked to a rumor that had dogged him all his life. That lingering thought in the back of his mind was true. Everything about him had been a lie, right down to that key. His gender swap had finally broken the lock on that big reveal. The basketball game. The breakdown. The depression. The hatred. The rivalry. It all seemed so clear now. That hatred, that need to prove himself as better, wasn't based on some childish need to be perfect when he got down to it. It was based around the need to impress Evan. Just like when they were in grade school and Pietro had asked Evan if he like-liked him and Evan had said no, he liked Ashley. This was rejection all right, but not of friendship. It was rejection of a relationship.

He didn't hate Evan because he was better then him. He hated him because he was straight. And he wasn't. Pietro wasn't straight. That was why those flirty relationships were so empty. That was why it hurt more when the guys had treated him like a cheap ride. That was even why he had been so comfortable in a girl's body, messing with boys and dressing up. That was why he'd become like his father. His undiscovered self hatred at being gay because of some long sought after crush that continually rejected him and his attempts to woo him. It seemed so foreign, but everything made sense now. His father thought homosexuals were less then humans so when Evan had rejected him, he had gained the warped idea that if he proved he was the best, he wouldn't be less then human and Evan would like him. Along the way, he had just suppressed his sexuality until he was blindly destroying his chances at a normal social and emotional connection with anyone.

Just like that, there was a weight lifted from Pietro's shoulders. He stared out at that oak as if he was seeing it for the first time. His hands fell to his sides as he started to laugh. There wasn't anything funny about this realization, but he couldn't stop laughing anyways. Yes, he had figured out he was truly messed up in the head. Yes, he had just come to terms with his misguided sexuality. However, he had also found the answers he had been searching for. He knew who he was behind that mask he had constructed and worn for so long.

Pietro was lonely. He was lonely and wanting of acceptance. He wanted someone, anyone, to accept him for who he was behind that mask. He wasn't a cheerful air head. There was so much more to him, if he could ever be allowed to express it. He was hurting, bleeding inside, from neglect, and he couldn't even imagine what he would look like in the light of day. He knew he was a moody drama queen with a taste for adventure, but he was also sensitive and afraid of people. There was more, of course, but he would need help finding it. He needed someone. No, he knew who he needed. He needed Evan. He had something he really ought to tell him, regardless of the outcome. He stopped laughing as he turned in the direction of the Institute.

That's when two hands encircled his mouth and he was suddenly aware of the person snickering behind him. He was jerked clear off his feet and thrown to the ground as a heavy weight pressed down upon him. He let out a scream before his mouth was covered and he finally got a look at the face of the predator on top of him.

Glaring down at him was Jason. And he was flicking out a pocket knife.

Next chapters will be following shortly.

Also, I'm doing a special smexi oneshot for a couple for V-Day. Go take my new poll to vote for your favorite pairings.

That's all.