I've not updated this since 2017, not because I didn't want to, but continuing ended up complicated by the loss of my chapter notes during 2016 and then I had to come up with a way to organize my WIP in a way I can hopefully manage all the WIP I have. I'm hoping to update my WIP, particularly the older ones, more frequently, but no promises.

Cyber & Saber
What's Worse

"I don't know what's worse," Lance said, finally pushing the trey away, having eaten half the unappetizing things there, finding they did nothing for the throbbing headache. "Not knowing what Mystique was talking to that teacher about."

He looked up at the teacher Mystique spoke to in whispers as if he'd done something wrong before lowering his head, but apparently, she noticed. "Let me write you a pass to the nurse's office if you're finished eating Alvers."

"Or being told by Mystique to go to the nurse's office because someone noticed I'm not well." He glanced up at Abernathy, who remained in the room. "At least he…"

"Hope you feel better."

Lance's eyes blinked, the thought about Abernathy thinking it was simply a matter of not eating rather than cluing into the massive migraine that throbbed in his brain sliding right out of his brain. "Uh. Yeah."

"See you later."

"Uh-huh." Lance stared, unsure of how to respond to Abernathy, and instead stood up and walked to the teacher's desk, taking the slip. "Of that, this guy here is trying to be helpful, involving himself in a business that is obviously not his own."

The pass crumpled, being shoved into his jeans pocket as Lance walked out of the testing room.

"I am not looking forward to staying at school for the day," Lance thought to himself. "What with all the loud noises. Perhaps…" The thought of ditching crossed his mind, but then, "She'd know. She's the bloody principle."

He stood there, pondering which way to go, when a realization hit him. "The teacher didn't say where the nurse's office was, so I could use that as an excuse to bug out. The problem is, it should be near here, near the front offices, so…"

"You aren't looking to cause trouble, are you?"

Lance's head jerked around, his head turning to look at a redhead, his mouth forming a thin line, recognizing her as someone who'd shown up the other day back in Northbrook. "One of the few good foster parents I ended up with, and then…" His eyes rapidly fired. "Not that it would last, with my record, given…"

"I asked if you're looking to cause trouble?"

"Because I look it," Lance said, none too thrilled with dealing with her, whatever her name may be. "I don't recollect her name if I'd managed to catch onto it." His fingers tightened in his pocket around the hall pass as his teeth gritted together. "Looking like trouble, kind of like the guys who blew out my tires this morning. Which…"

"I am aware of your record, you know."

"Shouldn't that be sealed from your prying eyes?" Lance snapped. Then, his eyes snapped closed, his head pounding as he forced himself not to overthink things. He took a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look. Just point me to…"

"And I should help you because?"

His eyes snapped open. "What?"

"I mean, you are playing hooky, aren't you?"

"And this is why I don't like redheads, right? They're always…" He couldn't formulate the thought beyond remembering some of the adults theorizing one of his bad foster parents in the past must have been a redhead, yet he didn't remember one while the negative feeling. "It's not anger." He continued gritting his teeth. "Nurses office?"

"So you can play hooky?"

He took a deep breath, looking her up and down while she glared at him. "Says the person not in class herself."

"I've been sent on an errand for a teacher."

"And My…" Lance almost let the principal's other name slip and bit down lightly on his tongue, making a sound and remembering how much his head hurt and that doing so might not be good. He let out a gasp, closing his eyes. "Look. Miss Darkholme told me to go to the nurse's office, but she'll be pissed if she learns I'm not there, so if you don't want me to cause trouble…"

"Fine," the girl pointed in a certain direction. "It's around the corner from the front offices to the right. Can't miss it."

"Thanks. I guess," Lance muttered, turning in the direction she pointed, swallowing. "The front offices are that way? I've really gotten turned around because of this blasted headache."

"Sure," she said, not giving her name before continuing in the same direction she was before calling out to him, but the look on her face—

"She doesn't believe me, I think," Lance thought to himself before heading to the front offices and the nurse's office. He pulled out a slip, holding it out to the nurse, who frowned.

"Another one of the principal's wards?"

Lance flinched. "That…"

"You aren't faking illness like the one the other day. Got a right chewing out from Darkholme for sending him home."

"She's the one who sent me," Lance squeaked out. And then his mouth twitched. "I—trash can."

"Trash can?"

The pressure in his head got to be too much, and he hurled himself, thankfully, into the trash can and not onto the floor or anywhere else.

"Again?"

Lance started lifting a hand, wanting to indicate he was okay or that Mystique sent him, then let out a groan, his eyes closing. He took a deep breath. "I'm fine."

The nurse didn't answer.

"Really…" Lance opened his eyes despite the way his head spun.

"You aren't fine," the nurse said, letting out a sigh. "Lie down on the bed. I'm calling Darkholm."

"Yeah, yeah," Lance said, going and flopping on one of the beds in the nurse's office, pulling an arm over his eyes. He heard the curtain closing while he swallowed. "Just how much trouble am I going to get into on the first day? Mystique already suspects me of cheating but won't outright say as much, and now my headaches are going to be a nuisance yet again, right?"

He lay there, letting the darkness take the edge off the pain in his head, letting his breath go in and out at a steady rate while his entire mouth tasted like vomit.

"Yes. He's here in the nurse's office right now," he heard the nurse say, indicating she'd gotten in contact with Mystique.

Lance swallowed, then took a deep breath. "The woman who told me I didn't have a choice in coming here, that moving into the group home was final." His teeth gritted together, remembering his housemate from that morning. "Fuck. Home's going to be loud as well if my impression of him is anything to go by."

"I think it's more than an issue of not eating, as he threw up what he ate, but he's limping slightly."

Lance opened his eyes slightly. "Limping? Oh. Yeah. I stepped on that stupid road spike earlier, which might be an issue, I guess. Not that I should bother her with that."

"Yeah. Well, I think you should take him to see a doctor," the nurse said.

"Doctor?" Lance's body tensed, his eyes widening.

"Yeah. I think you should take him to see one or arrange for someone to do so," the nurse said, "If you can't arrange for a visit on the weekends, that is. Although…"

Lance took a deep breath, his fingers tightening around the edge of the bed.

"Tests…"

His mouth twisted upon hearing the word, sitting up even though his head hurt, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly.

"…are something that would need to be done during the week."

Lance stiffened, his head jerking up as nausea set in, yet he held back on the urge to throw up again.

"Yes. I think some lab work…"

The curtain shifted noisily as he bolted for the door, wanting out of the room then and there.

"Hey. Where are you?" The nurse paused. "Come back here!"

Instead of heading for the school's front door, he didn't, his feet keeping him moving, not towards his jeep or his home, the group home that didn't feel like home, but to somewhere…

Someone reached out, grabbing the back of his shirt and pulling him backward.