Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Note: Lance may be a little angsty and I was a little cruel, lol. I hope you don't mind;)

Note2: I re-edited a bit, corrected a few mistakes.

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Chapter 5: An inherited hell on earth

Less than two days were left to Christmas Eve. Next morning the two exiled mutants were much reluctant to part each other upon arriving at the Northbrook Plaza with its modest facilities lined up, yet Kitty insisted on getting her own way. She planned to get some presents for those of her friends whom she hadn't found any yet, and of course something for Lance. As she made sure Lance strolled down the corridor, she made her way into the first shop.

After ten minutes desperate search for gifts she already felt horribly strained. Flipping through some clothes hangers, she sighed. What was she supposed to buy for Jean? Or Scott? Peeking out of the window, she caught sight of someone standing down on the sidewalk who caused a load of questions and thoughts overflow her mind. Without much thinking she rushed out of the shop and the plaza as well.

What am I doing, she asked herself once she reached the extremely shabby and alcohol smelling tramp they had seen on the day before. The one with the name Alvers.

"Umm…" she muttered, swallowing a huge lump in her throat. The man looked up hearing her faint mumbling. He had a terrific face though the main part of it was hidden behind unkempt beard; bloodshot eyes with rings round them pierced into hers. He was at least one head taller than Kitty and it didn't make her feel easy.

"What d'you want?" the man thundered at her, his voice low and much like a rasp.

"Well, the question is whether you are willing to make some money?" she slipped her hand into her pocket. "I'm a freshman of social studies and I collect information for an essay. I've got ten dollars for you and everything you have to do is answering some questions honestly."

She could see his eyes lighten up greedily. His face lost its peevish edge and became almost affable that was as alarming as his previous face.

"Whatever, lady," he bowed his head jovially. Kitty tried her best not to grimace. In the first minutes she asked some general, uninteresting things about his name and path of life, just to be sure he was the one who she wanted to speak to – and to make him unsuspecting.

"How did you end up here?" she inquired as he became talkative. He broke into grinning.

"Oh, it was easy. Women, cards, sweet alcohol."

Keeping her not much flattering opinion to herself, Kitty went on. "Do you have a family?"

A hoarse snort. "No, thanks God… M' wife's in the cemetery if you have questions also for her", he added, apparently amused.

"So you got here after her death I suppose."

The man sneered at her. "Guessed wrong. Don't think I was the monster who drove her to death, huhh. She was a mere slut. Happy family story, heh?"

"And what about the children?" she blurted out, unable to hold herself back any more.

"Never had."

Kitty could tell there was something in his eyes that betrayed him. "Never?"

"I said so, are you deaf?" he glowered at her, momentarily falling out of his oh so polite manner.

"And I said to answer my questions honestly."

"Alright, yes, I had a son. Satisfied?" he huffed nervously.

Kitty felt her heart pounding almost loudly. "What happened to him?"

"He died," he stated briefly and a bit fast.

"Tsk, tsk. If you wanna get your money…"

"Goddamn hell, kay. But what if you don't like my answer? You may keep the money."

"I won't," she waved impatiently. "So what's with him?"

"I don't know where he is. He may be indeed dead. We left him somewhere, I don't remember, in front of a pharmacy or grocery, who cares?"

"What?" she exclaimed a little bit too fiercely. Forcing herself calm down, she continued more quietly. "But he was just a child. How could you do that?"

"He was just another mouth to feed. I rather feed m'self then a dumb kid. He was absolutely unwanted."

"And you… you just left him to the mercy of the world…" she gaped, her fists trembling.

The tramp seemingly grew nervous. "Yes, yes, yes. I left him. He surely got into an orphanage if he had luck. Or unluck. Who cares, it was more than ten years ago. Or fifteen? I don't even remember."

"Haven't you ever regretted it?" she asked, eyes widened in horror and hurt and disbelief.

"Regret? What are you after all? A damned priest?"

"But he was your own son! Haven't you felt any attachment for him?" she was practically shouting.

"Hell, no, I haven't! For ten filthy dollars I should hear your crappy preaching through? Be strong, it's been all worth that," he roared back.

"Great! And do you think it's life?" she scoffed, running her gaze along his clothes.

"More life than what my wife has now," was the selfish answer, followed by an ironic snort and a rough laughter. "But how could you daddy's little girl in your swanky clothes understand the life of those from the slum?!"

"What was his name?" she demanded to know the last, most important thing. The conversation didn't take the best direction at all. The man stared at her as if she had spoken in an unknown language.

"Why the hell do you need it? What kind of an essay is this, after all?" he asked suspiciously but when meeting Kitty's stern look, he added nonchalantly. "Dominik. Better?"

"What?" She had steeled herself for another name but was shocked to hear something else.

The man snarled, apparently misunderstanding her exclamation. "Dominik Lance Alvers, born at St Francis, Northbrook… you need the date of birth as well? Or the weight? Can I have my fucking money already?"

Kitty had just slid her fingers in her pocket, dumbfounded, and pulled out the bill when felt a tough hand clutching her elbow. It was Lance, clenching teeth, who shouted at her from the distance of an inch or two. "What the fucking hell you're doin' here?"

He was glaring at her so vehemently and intensly that it was rather intimidating. Wasting no glance on the tramp, he pulled her along, fuming.

"Hey, m' money, you slut!" the tramp howled at them, and being afraid of him sticking to them, Kitty threw the note on the ground. She still could see him snatching at it.

Lance didn't reduce his killing rough pace until they reached the park. No words were said, only his hard breathing could be heard. Furiously, panting madly he halted at the park lake.

"It hurts, Lance, let me go," her voice was barely above a whisper. He whirled her towards him and glared at her for long, grasping her arms with both hands. He was dreadfully pale, black flames were burning in his irises. At first sight it seemed he didn't even recognize her. A strange unknown thing was yelling inside him. Crying. And it was unleashed.

He released her as if touching her caused him pain. God, such was him, a scrappy, savage asshole… just as that once-human tramp a couple of hundred metres away. But there was no turning back. Rage filled him, and would have crashed him if he didn't set if free. So it just spilled badly.

"What the hell made you speak to that filthy damn tramp? He… he could have hurt you, killed you or anything! Are you outta your mind? What the heck was that for?" he bawled, fuming madly. Something broke inside him. Something aching and deep and bitter. It reopened old sores.

Kitty bolted back, clinging to the barrier around the peaceful lake. They were alone, only a small group of children played in the snow further away. "I… I just wanted to know something."

"Something?! Couldn't you just forget your damn questions for once? Why is that you always have to know everything? I fucking hate you snooping around my freaking past." Lance sank into the hell of blind rage. Face distorted, he clenched his fists, eyes darkening with every passing minutes. He was almost scary. Kitty saw him only once acting so uncontrollably; it was when he rearranged the area around the school after teaming up with Duncan Matthews. After she, Kitty said him those words. "You could have asked me your stupid questions, anyway!"

"Would you have answered them?" she asked quietly. Lance opened his mouth, and closed it again.

"No, sure as hell not. But it's none of your damn business," he replied finally.

"I… just needed to know, to understand… was he really…er… what made him… how could he just…" she trailed off, embarrassed.

"Dump me?!" he thundered almost cruelly. The words were towering between them like a huge, murderous iceberg. "That's what you wanted to know? How I was unwanted? How was my great family like?"

The ground underneath their feet stirred at the reflection of his anger. A tiny crack emerged on the frozen surface of the lake, running across to the opposite shore. On the branches above them the glimmering colourful strings of Christmas bulbs and garlands were tinkling quietly. Green, yellow and red snowflakes poured down on their shoulders. Hell, why she of all people had to see this, had to face him, know him, why – felt Lance his blood bumping in his veins.

"And? Is your curiosity finally satisfied? Have you found out?" he asked with lower, calmer voice; comparing to his former rage it was almost as threatening as his fury.

Kitty pressed her lips together. Words failed her. She didn't even notice the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. How could she tell him what that man said? No way! That would have hit him hard even if he, just like Kitty, couldn't regard him as Lance's father.

"There ain't any answers for that, Kitty; that's the blunt fact. Just filthy pity loser fathers and their filthy loser sons. That's life."

"That's not true… can't be true," she breathed. He didn't listen; just turned around, away from her. "I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you… Lance…"

She reached out to touch him; he was stiff as stone. And so distant, so inaccessible.

"Why did you… why did we…?" he never finished his sentence. It seemed to him impossible to speak distinctly with so much bitterness and shame accumulated in his throat. In his heart. I never wanted you to see this, he closed his eyes. Why don't you just go away? When will you kick me as he did?

"I thought you didn't know," Kitty remarked.

Lance hugged himself. "I did." His hands balled into iron fists. There was a mad rattle being heard from his direction, and his following words filtered through gritted teeth. "He was quite lucky that my powers hadn't manifested then."

Kitty shuddered. That indeed sounded like a menace. She stepped closer, ready to pull him into her comforting embrace, to make him feel she cared.

"Now leave me alone," he said, his voice faraway and so tired like never before.

Kitty got scared. There was something in his voice that made her feel in a way she'd lost him. "Lance, please," she pleaded with tears in her eyes, placing a soft hand on his shoulder. "Please, don't be mad at me. I really am sorry, I didn't want to stir up the past."

"Just go home, Kitty, alright, go home."

"No, don't make me leave. You're in bad temper now. Please, let me stay." And then suddenly she just finally understood him. "Lance, it's not your fault. You shouldn't feel ashamed of him. You are a far better person than him…"

Lance clutched his head, grabbing his own hair as if in an attempt to get rid of it or to shut her voice out of his head. He let out a moan and sank slowly down on the ground, sitting onto the blanket of snow. He hid his face behind his arms, avoiding her gaze, unable to see the concern in her eyes. He leaned on his knees. His words were muffled as he spoke: "I don't say it again, Kitty, go home. I'll be okay. Just… you'd better forget me."

Kitty fell down on her knees next to him. "Don't say silly things. What has it changed? Nothing at all."

"For you, yeah, nothing. It was just nothing. For me it was a father. A past. A reminder." He didn't look up. "Can't you see? Can't you really see? He's my future, it's obvious… He is… I… I don't want you to be involved in it."

Kitty was bewildered. She felt so small, so weak to fight so much hurt, bitterness and self-doubt. Self-torture. "You can't believe in this…" she was cut short as Lance snapped impatiently.

"Go away already! Why don't you leave? Does it really matter when you do it, now or later? Leave me the bloody hell alone!"

Taken aback by his harsh tone, Kitty stood up, and slowly, hesitantly she left him. She cast a last glance at him upon exiting the park. He was still there, crouching motionless on the ground, alone and wrecked, with storm in his soul. With pain.

And he was abandoned again.

Tick-tack, the minute hand of the old hanging clock staggered along. There was a banal Christmas story broadcast in the TV with mushy-gushy end where everyone was kissing under mistletoe. Kitty's Christmas had taken a way extremely differing from the pinky Hollywood stories. Instead of watching the screen, she realized she had been rather having her eyes on the windows but who she had been waiting for hours hadn't yet arrived.

It had been snowing for hours, and it brought nothing but chill and whiteness with it. Lance was away.

She regretted long ago that she had left him in the park. He had been in bad state of mind; it proved to be a wrong decision letting him ruminate over the whole case alone. Sighing, she switched the television off for it had absolutely no chance of entertaining her. She went upstairs to their room and lay down on one side of the bed, leaving clear the place where Lance was supposed to sleep.

And she began staring on the ceiling, shuddering at every noise, every crackling of the wood all around the house. He never arrived.

Tick-tack, echoed the walls and her heart. Tick-tack. His absence played a horrible tune on the chords inside her.

Slowly she drove herself crazy with the most terrifying images her mind could produce in the hours of fear. She tried her best to fall asleep but couldn't. Somewhere out there Lance was suffering, she knew it as she knew she would never have a rest til she didn't have him by her side. How could she be so coward, so pathetic that she shrank back from trying to support him, sustain him and fight his demons?

It was half past one when she got up again, and crept along down to the hall and out of the house. There was chill outside and dead silence. Her steps were muffled by the soft snow that was still pouring down on her. She didn't know where to go, just kept running along the streets, until her lungs ached. The night wind bit her face and she could easily accuse it of her tears dimming her vision.

Minutes and what felt hours went by without any chance of finding Lance. She had scouted the whole city park, the centre of the town, the area around the plaza when she had the idea of taking a visit to the darker side of Northbrook. Swallowing her fear down, she swang into walking along the narrow alleyways where the dirtiest and most ill-reputed bars and nightclubs were teeming side by side. The snowflakes seemed to be bleeding in the strange lights filtering through the dim windows and half-opened doors. No one tried to impede her, not as if she wasn't prepared for defending herself – many thanks to Wolverine and his terrible training-sessions.

Her heart skipped a beat when the wall of snowfall was drawn apart and there he was crouching at the foot of a wall, half-sleeping on his knees.

"Lance," she breathed his name with relief, and could have cried with happiness that he was whole and alive. She leapt to his side, placing a worried hand on his shoulder. Suddenly, frowning, she became aware of his thin clothes. He was so cold.

He didn't wake up even after she shook him. Obviously, judging by the smell and his deep sleep, he was drunk.

"Lance," she called again somewhat louder.

His eyes flung open. "What? You?" Disbelief spread on his face. "I…mmm… said tah go 'ome and leave t' hell… umm…", unable to speak more he laid down on the concrete, hugging himself.

"Okay, you wanted this," she warned him, standing up and striding a few steps away. She grabbed a small pile of snow and after going back to him, she squeezed the whole white cold stuff into his face.

Shouting, he apparently got back to consciousness. "Aarrgh, what was that for?"

"Now, we're going back home. No! No argue!" she commanded as he was about to protest, and grabbing his arm she helped him to his feet.

It wasn't easy to take him home since he was more than unwilling, nauseated and dull at the same time but they did it, eventually.