Author's Note: I recently read a whole slew of fics about Lance shouldering a lot of burdens for his surrogate family. I figured I'd write a fic detailing just how far he'd go to make sure they had cash.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

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Desperation

It was quiet at the Brotherhood house. The teenage mutants who were usually so loud and boisterous lay silent and asleep in their beds. Except for one, that is. Lance slowly opened his eyes and looked at the clock by his bed. 1:12 AM. As quietly as he could, Lance slowly raised himself out of bed and began getting dressed. Being extra careful not to step on any of the squeaky floorboards, he tiptoed over to the door and softly pushed it open.

Normally the door would have let off a series of squeaks and moans that would have woken everyone in the house. However, Lance had planned ahead for this and used oil from his jeep to grease the hinges beforehand. Silent as a wraith he sneaked down the hall toward the stairs. He descended the stairs quietly, avoiding the boards that would bend or groan with an ease that indicated he'd done it several times before.

Continuing in silence, he crept toward the door. Spying his keys hanging from their hook, he reached out and snatched them, using his gloves to muffle their jingling. Then, very slowly and deliberately, he turned the doorknob until the slightest, softest of clicks could be heard. With an equal amount of dexterity he opened the door just slightly enough to allow him to squeeze through, then proceeded to do so while softly shutting the door behind him.

Without dropping his stealthy mindset, Lance quickly and quietly hurried towards his jeep. Instead of creating more noise by opening the door, he opted to silently vault into the driver's seat, landing with a muted thud. He slowly reached forward and placed the key in the ignition. This was the most nerve-wracking part. If he gunned the engine too loud, he'd wake them up, but if he didn't apply enough force, the jeep would stall, forcing him to risk starting it again. Lance took a calming breath, and then quickly turned the key, jerking the vehicle to life with a soft rumble. He sat in the driveway for a few seconds, waiting to see if any lights suddenly flicked on. The house remained dark. Exhaling a sigh of relief, Lance drove off the driveway and down the road towards Bayville.

After he had established enough distance between himself and the Brotherhood house, he turned on the radio. Focusing on the music helped take his mind off of what he was about to do. As he drove farther and farther into downtown Bayville, the scenery gradually began to change. Prestigious homes and wide, clean streets gave way to small, filthy hovels and cramped dirty roads. Lance turned the radio off. This was a dangerous neighborhood and he didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention.

Unfortunately, with the radio off, Lance had nothing to distract him from his thoughts. Inevitably his mind wandered from why he was there, to what he was about to do, to when it had all begun. It had been roughly six weeks ago that he'd found out about it. He didn't remember who he overheard talking about it, just that they had mentioned an address and money.

Usually he would have been interested, but probably wouldn't have investigated. However, he had overheard that comment at a time that the Brotherhood was incredibly broke. Even for them. So, he'd snuck out and gone to the address, willing to do whatever they wanted to get the money. They had told him what they wanted. He did it. They paid him. That was when it started. That was when Lance had started selling his body.

A gunshot startled Lance out of his reflections. He looked around quickly, but soon determined that whoever had shot the gun, had done so far away and not at him. Looking back ahead of him, he recognized the building down the block. He had arrived. Pulling the jeep up in front of the decrepit building he pulled the parking brake into place and turned it off. But instead of opening the door, Lance remained seated in the jeep.

He sat there silently for a few moments, hesitating. A few moments dragged into a few minutes. A few minutes dragged into several minutes. Lance bit his lip. He realized that he was terrified. He didn't want to do this, not for all the money in the world. It was humiliating; it robbed him of what little dignity he had left. He reached forward, fully intending to ram the key back into the ignition and drive away, never to return. Unfortunately, he didn't have that luxury as he immediately realized. If he didn't go through with this, he wouldn't get the money, and if he didn't get the money, the Brotherhood would starve. An image of a thin, emaciated Todd struggling feebly to catch a few meager flies for sustenance spurred him into action.

Squashing down his fear and revulsion, he opened the door and got out of the jeep, using his powers to create earthen tire-locks to prevent the attempted car-thefts that would surely take place as soon as he was gone. Slowly he walked up to the hated building, reminding himself every step of the way that he had to do this; that Wanda and the guys would starve if he didn't do this.

A bell rang as he pushed open the door, sounding far too cheery to belong in such a horrible place. Gathering up all of his courage, Lance strode resolutely up to the counter and banged on it for service, rather than ringing the bell. Presently, a bald, lecherous man came waddling out from the back room.

"Hold yer' horses, I'm coming, I'm…" He looked up for the first time and saw Lance. His face twisted into a smug smile of recognition, "Well now, lookie what we got here."

Lance stiffened, but remained silent.

The man continued grinning, "I knew you were all talk. I knew right from the start you'd be back. You're not too good for us when you need money are you?"

Lance grimaced. "Shut up you son of a bitch! I don't have to take this from you!"

The man's grin abruptly twisted into a frown, "I'd be more careful about insulting my elders if I was you, boy" He spat, "Or did you forget that you need my money?"

Lance flinched. "S-sorry." Any courage he had mustered collapsed under the immense weight of hopelessness that had just descended on him. His entire body sagged with the mental defeat. "Please, sir… I do need the money. Do you have an opening?"

The man's horrible grin returned, "I'll always have an opening for you, boy. Go down the right hall. The first door on the left will be your room. You know what to do."

Lance nodded and slowly shuffled down the hall. Looking down, he could see one or two porno magazines strewn across the floor. No doubt to help the man's "clients" get in the mood. Lance shivered in disgust. Arriving at his door, Lance turned and stared at the knob. Standing in the hallway, he was once again paralyzed with fear; this time all the more because he knew he could do nothing about it. He was utterly helpless, his once-stubborn pride reduced to shambles. If the guys knew about this… If the X-Geeks knew about this... if Kitty knew about this… Lance choked back tears. He was not going to cry dammit! Steeling himself against the fear and the pain, he gripped the knob, twisted, and strode boldly into the room.

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Forty-six minutes and seventeen seconds later a very different Lance strode out of the room. His clothing was rumpled and a damp sheen of sweat covered his skin. He walked with an air of someone who had just surrendered the very last ounce of their human dignity, and his eyes reflected untold misery. Lance slowly shuffled away from the door, and then collapsed, leaning against the wall for support. He slowly sank to the floor, not caring that it stank of sweat and sex, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Several teardrops appeared on the floor as Lance broke his earlier promise not to cry.

Eventually, his sobs died down to the occasional gasp and his tears stopped falling. Heaving himself off the floor, he reached up and wiped at his eyes, disgusted at both himself and his weakness. As he slowly began walking back toward the main desk, he unconsciously rubbed his arms. He just felt so dirty... so freaking dirty. When he reached the main desk, the lecherous man was still there.

The man looked up from some paperwork and stared at him expectantly, "Well?" he finally asked.

Wordlessly, Lance reached into his pocket and removed a small test tube. He held it out and the man took it with an appreciative grunt. After inspecting the white, viscous contents for a few seconds, the man smiled and looked back at Lance, "Alright, kid here's your compensation for your generous donation." The man reached into his pocket and handed Lance a crisp, clean fifty dollar bill.

Lance slowly reached out and took the money.

The man turned around and went back into the back room, but came out a few seconds later with a cup of orange juice and a cookie. "And here's the second part of your payment" He gave them to Lance, then continued, "You know, there's really nothing for you to be ashamed of. Donating to a sperm bank is a very noble thing to do. You're helping people out, kid."

Lance nodded mutely and walked out the door. As he walked back to his jeep, he sniffled and took a bite out of the cookie. He still felt like he'd lost some of his dignity, but the cookie made him feel a little bit better.

END.

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Author's Note: Didn't see that one coming, did ya? I was originally going to be up front about what Lance was doing, but it's just so much fun to lead you on and then yank the proverbial carpet out from under your feet. You get twenty-five points if you can tell me where I got the sperm bank giving out orange juice and a cookie from.

Review my story, or I'll kill my dog.