Disclaimer: Do I ever claim to own a thing? No. And I still don' t own X-Men Evolution.

AN: Finally, the second and final chapter. I know, I know. I too, thought it would end up longer than 2 chappies but I discovered while writing this second half that I had pretty much written myself into a corner. I think it's still alright though. Go ahead, see for yourself.

"Guys, I really don't think this is a good idea," Lance reasoned as his friends pulled and pushed him into theatre 8.

"Come on, Lance," Todd reassured, " Flight 141 is supposedly the best terror in the skies movie ever! It'll be great! Not to mention Fred brought gummi bears."

"Sure did," Fred said, giving Lance a push forward.

Trapped, trapped like a rat! Lance thought, arms still looped with Pietro and Todd, just as they had been when he had tried to get away. Fred stood behind him, keeping him from retreat of any kind. They maneuvered him all the way into the theatre and paused at the decision between stadium seating and the traditional seats up front. "Which do you think, Lance," Todd asked.

"Neither," Lance replied, " I really just want to go home." No such luck as his teammates pooh-poohed that idea. He could feel anxiety take hold. If the guys found out he got motion sickness he'd never live it down. Flying didn't agree with him and from what he'd heard about Flight 141 there were plenty of moments filmed so you felt as though you were actually on the plane. Nope, he didn't need this kind of stress.

"We're sitting up front," Pietro decided for them, "the best seats are right up front."

Lance wanted to nix that idea but remained silent as they ushered him to the fifth row from the front. Maybe it won't be that bad. Maybe I'll be perfectly fine. After all, it's the motion of the plane that gets me; I can't possibly get that sick from a film. He took a deep, calming breath as the previews began to play.

"The musical that swept the nation is now the hit film that will take the world by storm. CATS!"

"Damage control," Fred said, quickly passing out the gummi bears. "Ready, aim, FIRE!" As one the Brotherhood boys bit off the heads of the jelloid candy and threw the bodies at the screen. "Ten points if you hit one of their tails," Fred smiled, nudging Lance to go ahead and throw the bear.

Lance stared at his large friend. "Fred, what is your problem? This is a pineapple one, like I'm going to throw its decapitated body at the screen, what a waste."

"So take a lemon one," Fred proffered the box of candy at him.

With a sigh Lance grabbed one of the bears. "Alright, they asked for it." With the ease of many years gummi bear throwing he chucked the body at the screen.

"See, isn't that better," Fred asked.

"Yeah," Lance agreed, "now I'm leading in points."

"Not for long," Todd replied, taking aim.

By the end of the previews Lance was leading in points, a little suspicious that his friend's good intentions to cheer him up had made them forfeit their own excellent aim. As soon as the animated ticket stub flew across the screen to signal the end of the previews Lance felt his palms get sweaty as he awaited the start of Flight 141 with baited breath. The beginning was alright, all on the ground, nothing to worry about. Then they took to the air.

Lance felt queasy just thinking about getting on a plane, and it only worsened when the on-screen engines fired up. He clenched his hands on the armrests and closed his eyes, telling his stomach to stop its revolt before it started. A finger on his left poked his arm. "Open your eyes, Lance," Todd hissed, "You're missing the best part."

"Oh," Pietro's whisper rose, " is Lance crying again?"

"Shut up," Lance replied, eyes still tight shut."

"It's alright," big arms wrapped around him, forcing his eyes open as he worried about his air supply, "let it all out, Lance."

"Let me go," Lance gurgled.

"Only if you're sure you're alright."

At that moment Lance noticed the dipping plane on screen and his stomach did flip-flops. "I'm going to be sick," he exclaimed. With strength he didn't know he had Lance pushed Fred's arms away as his legs bolted down the aisle and out of the theatre towards the nearest bathroom.

"I'll go see if he's alright," Todd conceded.

"If he's drowning himself in the toilet make sure he does it properly," Pietro replied, gaining dirty looks from the other two. "What?"

"How could you," Fred asked. " He's your friend and you're making fun."

"He's also my rival for Brotherhood leadership. I'm an optimist; I have to look on the bright side."

Fred pursed his lips in anger as his brow wrinkled. A meaty fist pointed towards the door. "Go check on him."

"No," Pietro scoffed, leaning back in his seat.

"Do it."

"Shhh," a couple two rows behind hissed at them.

"Shhh, yourself," Fred answered back. "Now, Pietro."

"You go ahead, Fred, I spent good time sneaking into this movie."

That was the last straw as Fred grabbed the speedster and dragged him out the door and into the guy's bathroom.

They found Lance leaning over the toilet. "Lance, you can't puke away your problems," Fred consoled.

"I'm not," Lance said. "I just...felt nauseous."

"Sick to your stomach over a certain pretty kitty," Pietro asked.


"It's okay if you are, Lance," Todd chimed, " I know after Wanda hexes me I sometimes feel like tossing my cookies too."

"It's not the same thing, Todd," Fred told him. "We can go home if you want, Lance. I mean, we snuck into the movie anyways so we're only down a little for the snacks."

"I'd like to go home," Lance quickly replied.

"Wimp," Pietro scoffed.

Back at the Brotherhood House Lance found himself blissfully alone. He had convinced the others that he was indeed fine. A perfect time to just sit back and relax. He loved his companions but sometimes they were just too much.

Lance was just starting to doze off when he heard a smack on the roof and accompanied yelling from outside.

"Aw, man! Now we'll never get it down, it's stuck up there forever," a kid's voice whined.

"It's your fault," another voice broke in, " You were aiming too high!"

The yelling continued, bringing Lance out of his dream state and over to his window to see exactly what the problem was. Two boys stood on the lawn arguing over who was going to ring the doorbell to ask for assistance. Lance poked his head out of the window. "Hey," he called, "you lose something?"

"Yeah," the first boy replied, "Our Frisbee's stuck up on the roof," the other boy elbowed him, "and we were wondering if there was some way you could get it down."

Lance mulled this over in his brain for a moment. There was no reason why he couldn't do that for the kids. If the house had been more "stable" he'd just shake it loose but as it was he worried a quake would demolish it. "Just give me a minute," Lance called back.

Meanwhile, Lance's counterparts downstairs were watching reruns of "I Love Lucy" when the picture suddenly cut out. "Something must have hit the antenna," Pietro said, looking pointedly at Todd.

"So? What do you want me to do about it," Todd challenged.

"Go check it out," the white-haired boy replied.

"Why don't you?"

"I'll do it," Fred said, "but I'm tellin' ya right now I ain't climbing up there for nothing. One of you can do it." He lumbered to his feet and made his way outside. What he found frightened him more than he would have thought. Two boys stood on the lawn looking up towards the sky. "Don't fall," the one called.

Fred followed their gaze to see Lance, poised on the rooftop crest. "Pietro! Todd!" Fred yelled, right before Lance lost balance and nearly toppled over the side.

"What is it?" Pietro asked, zipping outside, followed by a more leisurely paced Todd.

"I think Lance is gonna jump," Fred said.

"Why would he jump," one of the boys asked.

"Well," Fred didn't know how exactly to explain the emotional anguish Lance had been through as of late so he decided to keep it simple. "His girlfriend- who was his world- dumped him this last week.

The second boy looked up at the roof. "I still don't think he's gonna jump. He promised us..."

"Look," Todd cut in, "I'm sure you're all smart and stuff because you're still in school but I don't think you fully grasp the situation. When a guy loves a gal..." he broke off, hearing Pietro muttering, "Jump, Alvers, Jump," to himself. "Pietro," Todd smacked the speedster.

"What," Pietro asked. Receiving glares from teammates and children alike he cleared his throat and called up towards the roof. "I mean...Don't do it, Lance! It'll be okay...I'll fully take over leadership of the Brotherhood if you come down in one piece...no jumping though, definitely no jumping."

"What are you talking about," Lance called back, a yellow Frisbee in hand as he maneuvered his way down the side of the roof towards his room. He disappeared inside and a few minutes later walked out the door. "Here ya go, kid," he said, handing the Frisbee to the first boy, who thanked him before looking at Fred. "We told you he wasn't going to jump," the second boy said before they both ran off.

Lance looked at his fellow Brotherhood members. "You guys didn't really think I was going to 'end it all' and jump off the roof did you?"

A litany of mumbles replied. "Gosh, you guys, I thought you knew me better than that. Yeah, Kitty dumped me, and yeah, it hasn't been that easy to get used to but you guys just took it too far."

"But," Todd interrupted, "this morning..."

"This morning I got soap in my eyes, burned my face and banged my head against the sink."

"The movie..." Fred answered. "What was that about?"

"Well...I..." Lance looked at his friends. "I...get airsick," he muttered.

"You get airsick," Pietro blurted. "Man, Lance, I mean, there are some lame things to get sick over but flying? Pah! I guess that means you couldn't handle living life in the fast lane like me, you'd get sick looking at the floor rushing past your feet!"

"Yeah," Lance replied, "getting airsick is pretty lame...but I know someone who's afraid of the dark."

"Your mother," Pietro quipped, averting his eyes.

"Pietro's afraid of the dark?" Todd hopped up and down. "Who'd have thunk?"

"Shut up," Pietro snapped.

"We will if you don't give me crap about me getting airsick."

"Done," the speedster spat.

"And you'll all stop trying to cheer me up," Lance asked, getting affirmative answers. "Good. Now let's order some pizza and break out the board games, I've got a lot on my mind and need to drown it out."