Authors Notes – This fic is very different from my other fics. It's very…raw? I don't know, all I can say is that its different. It takes place WAY in the future (Pietro is 32) and he works at a drug rehab center. WARNING – there are a lot of drug references in here and a coupla drug scenes. Some are explicit. One of them is in this chapter. Also, a whole lot of swearing and basically, adultish themes. MY POINT IS, please don't read this if you can't handle 'mature content'. So now that everyone thinks I'm queer, I'll move on. The flashbacks do not go in order, this is the first chapter in four! What the hell does a mirrorball have to do with this fic? Maybe you'll see! Meanwhile, chapter 2 will be out in um a week? Review! Read! In reverse order, or course…

"The Mirrorball"

By NHSpartanGal14

Chapter One ~ Slivers of Him in Me

Mr. Maximoff rubbed his chin pensively, thoroughly taking in the sullen teenage boy that sat before him. His hair was greasy and in dire need of a haircut, and his angrily protruding cheekbones gave him the appearance of a starved fox. His eyes were cold and twin blocks of solid ice, set too close together and accented by wispy blond eyelashes. His nametag cheerfully introduced him to be Tony, and he found no shame in staring right back at Mr. Maximoff, his translucent eyebrows knit together in silent spite as he took in the crisp white button-down shirt, the perfectly coordinated tie, and the snow-colored hair that had clearly taken a helluva long time to get it looking the way it did. He shook his head, somewhat disgusted and more than a little scornful of these stupid adults with too much time on their hands, all clean-cut and desperate to lend him a helping hand because he was poor and misled. God, they were dumbasses, and they were all the same, too. He settled back comfortably in his chair, already bored of this little "talk" session that hadn't even begun yet.

"Tell me about yourself," Mr. Maximoff said loudly, his piercing blue eyes firmly locking upon Tony's, who simply snorted and looked away.

"What the hell don't you know? It's all in there, isn't it?" Tony grinned mockingly, gesturing toward the slim manila file folder that lay upon the desk between them.

Mr. Maximoff smiled in reply, not looking the least bit fazed. He had no qualms with the cocky-assed attitude that this boy obviously carried; in fact, he rather enjoyed it. He'd never been one to turn away from a challenge, after all. Flexing his fingers, he said smoothly, "yes, well, I'd like to hear it from you, Tony. You don't mind my calling you Tony, do you?"

"If I can call you – Pietro." The derisive young boy replied, reading off the wooden plaque that stood in front of him.

"I suppose it's settled then, Tony," Pietro answered. "Now tell me, from your standpoint, everything you know about yourself. I'll tell you if it's true or false." A poker smile played coyly on his lips and his pale eyes remained forever locked upon Tony's.

The greasy-haired boy shrugged casually, though feeling slightly uncomfortable under the unwavering scrutiny of his counselor. Letting his eyes wander, he said, "what do you mean by that?"

Pietro studied him in reply, making him feel as naked as a newborn baby. This guy was actually sorta creepy. "I mean," he said finally, "tell me about yourself. Where were you born? How many brothers and sisters do you have? What primary school did you attend? Details, generalizations, it doesn't really matter, Tony. Just talk and I'll listen." He leaned forward expectantly, his pen poised jauntily above his paper, ready to scribble down the first words that escaped the young boy's lips.

Tony snorted and stretched his arms above his head, lazily taking his time to think up an answer. "I was born in Minnesota," he said deliberately, "but we moved to Bayville when I was eight."

"Why'd you move?" Pietro interrupted, his pen flying across the notepad.

Tony stared at him. "Why the hell do you care?"

"It's my job to care," Pietro replied dryly. "Just answer the question."

"Haven't you got it in that packet of dirt on me?" Tony demanded, pointing accusingly at the file folder.

"Nevertheless, I'd like to hear it from you," Pietro said smoothly, taking a sip from his steaming mug of coffee. Setting it down with a loud clunk, he smiled pleasantly. "I'm waiting."

"Fuck you, what if I don't want to tell you?" Tony sneered.

"Sounds like a challenge," Pietro sneered back through cold blue eyes and an amused smile.

"So what if it is?"

"We'll be sitting here for a while then, Tony. Trust me, we've got time."

"Karen'll be here at three."

"Karen can wait."

The two males stared each other down, the younger getting more and more angry while the other remained sinisterly calm.

"It's a long story," Tony said, finally dropping his gaze.

"Like I said before, we've got time," Pietro replied.

"You wouldn't understand if I told you, anyway," Tony said, smirking slightly.

"Try me."

"What if I won't?"

"Oh, but you will."

Tony sat up, his temper flaring. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He demanded, his eyes glittering dangerously.

Pietro rubbed his chin thoughtfully, ignoring the fact that the boy in front of looked as if he were about to kill him. "Relax, Tony," he said after a moment, gesturing for him to sit back.

The young boy narrowed his eyes suspiciously, his heart still racing in fury. God, he hated this guy. He was an asshole, an asshole with way too much free time that just had to pry into other people's lives to cure his own boredom –

"Would you like a Coke, Tony?" Pietro interrupted his thoughts, smiling inquiringly in that annoyingly subtle way. "A lemonade? A coffee? We serve anything and everything except for the alcohol variety."

"No," Tony said stiffly, sitting back and glaring hatefully at the man in front of him. A fucking smartass that didn't know shit about him except the written facts. Fucking rich white asshole.

"Shall we move on?" Pietro suggested cheerfully, stirring his coffee. "I'll let you come back to this question."

"Golly, thanks," Tony said.

"Your welcome," Pietro replied, seemingly oblivious to the young boy's sarcasm. "Now, Tony, how long have you been staying here?"

"Where, in New York?" Tony asked, feigning stupidity.

Pietro lifted his gaze and smiled sweetly. "At Jefferson's."

"Don't even remember," Tony replied, grinning. "Been in and out ever since I moved here. They're thinking of sending me to the one upstate if I don't get my act together."

"Why would they ever?" Pietro said quietly, scribbling messily across his notepad.

Tony's fragile temper snapped and he leaped to his feet, his eyes burning. "Fuck you," he spat furiously, his angular features twisted into a violent expression. "Fuck you, asshole! Don't think you can sit there and talk shit about me! I'll kill you, I swear I will." His chest heaved with emotion and his fists itched to wipe that stupid expression off his counselor's face.

"Sit down, Tony," Pietro said sharply, his eyes narrowing. "You need to calm down."

"Don't tell me what I need to do!" Tony shot back.

Pietro smiled then and leaned forward to rest his chin on his fingertips. "Well, then tell me again what you think of me, Tony. I'd like to hear it again."

The young boy glared doubtfully at him for a minute, unsure of what to do. Then, taking a quivering breath, he said in strangled calm, "You're an asshole and I hate you. All of you. You don't want to help messed-up kids, you just want to mess them up more than they already are so you can make enough money to buy that Mercedes-Benz you've been drooling over for the past week. You don't care but you don't even pretend to, and that makes you worse than the rest of them." He glared frostily at Pietro, his chin angled defiantly. "You don't know anything about me or kids like me, so I think you need to drop that fucking act you've got going on there before someone like me slits your throat. The only things you know - " he paused for a moment, his heart swelling in hatred, "is what you read in your textbooks and shit and those're all wrong. You don't know what it's really like, Pietro." He glowered contemptuously at the indifferent man in front of him, who looked as bored as he had in the beginning of the meeting.

"How old are you, Tony?" Pietro said suddenly, lifting his gaze and looking the young boy straight in the eye.

"Seventeen," Tony replied slowly.

"I'm thirty-two," Pietro said, tapping his cheek thoughtfully. He studied his fingernails carefully, then turned his hands over to stare at his palms. "I've been seventeen before, Tony."

"Driving a convertible and getting laid every weekend?" Tony asked cuttingly.

Pietro chuckled softly. "Maybe," he said. "What're you in for, huh?"

"I dunno, smartass. You know better than I do."

~15 Years Before~

"Fuck, yo, my nose is burning," Todd Tolensky muttered shrilly, shaking his head from side to side. "It's burning, yo! It's on fuckin' fire!" A tear slid down his cheek and he rubbed at it vigorously, his face crumpled into a pitiful expression. "It's on fuckin' fire," he repeated quietly, his fingers twitching. Uttering a soft cry, he turned and buried his head into the couch cushions. "My body's tingling," he whispered, his voice muffled. "You know what it's like down there? Yo, it's like fuckin' spiders. Mean spiders." He trembled in fear, then lifted his head to gaze solemnly at Lance. "C'mon, Avalanche," he begged, his pale eyes beseeching. "Avalanche, the spiders are coming. Please, don't let them burn me. It hurts, dammit. You don't understand. You won't let them, will you? I didn't think so…" He paused, concentrating on a spot on the couch cushion. His frightened expression melted then and was replaced by an eager smile. "Gosh, they're here! And they lit their candles!" He started to giggle hysterically, his small frame quivering. He turned to Lance again and frantically started to bat at him, babbling incessantly under his breath. "C'mon, Avalanche! Please? They're pretty this time! Damn pretty! Like snowflakes, I think. Big snowflakes with rainbows stuck to their asses – "

Lance ignored him and instead, yanked the plastic straw from his hand and stuck it up his own nose. Tapping a bit of fine white powder onto a broken slice of mirror, he held it beneath the straw, burying the bent plastic end in the pearly dust. He sniffed sharply, filling his lungs with the warm fogged joy, and he collapsed back onto the couch, his eyes closed and his breathing deep and even.

"Ew!" Todd squealed upon watching him, his face contorted in fascination. "You's doing poison, yo!"

"Fuck off," Lance replied irritably, opening his eyes and shoving Todd away from him. He fell back onto the couch cushions again and sighed slowly as he was enveloped into the obscuring mist. Beside him, Pietro snorted the glittering crystals in the same manner that Lance had, allowing his mind to sink into a sea of semi-conscious bliss as the drug took over.

"Fuck, yo! Freddy's sleeping!" Todd cried suddenly, his excited shouts jerking the other two from their tranquil states. The young boy exploded into peals of laughter as he pointed to the twitching figure that lay spread-eagle on the floor. "He's drooling, too! What an ass! Heh heh!"

"Shut up, Toad," Lance said angrily, shoving him off the couch and sending him sprawling across the couch so that his head rested awkwardly on Fred's shoulder.

"Ha! Fred's sleepin' with Lance's sister!" Todd quipped, immediately rolling over and pinching the blank, clammy face with his fingers. "Freddy sleeps with his eyes open!" He grinned lopsidedly, a giggle escaping his lips as he reached down and pecked Fred on the cheek. "Sweet dreams!"

"Lance, make him shut up," Pietro whined as he felt the residual rapture leave his veins. He'd always found that his highs never lasted very long and he suspected that his mutant power had something to do with it. The older boy complied by kicking Todd in the head, who didn't even seem to notice. "Siiilent niiight," he warbled, cradling Fred's head in his lap, "hoooly niiight…alllll is caaaalm, alllll is briiight…"

Pietro grabbed the straw and the nearly-empty plastic bag from between the couch cushions and sniffed eagerly, grimly hoping that the tiny amount of ivory powder left was enough to evoke some sort of feeling.

"Hey, that last shot was mine," Lance protested, yanking the bag away.

"I wasn't done!" Pietro snapped, diving towards the dark-haired boy's outstretched hand and successfully snatching the precious bag away.

"…mooother and chiiiilld…"

"Shit! It's all gone anyway – "

"Sleeeeep in heeeeaaavenly peeeee-eeace…"

"Give it back – "

"It's all gone, asshole!"

"….sleee-eep in heeaavenly peeeaaacce."

Fred's eyes were wide and glassy, and he had long since ceased to twitch. He was dead.

~Present Time~

"Have you ever lost anyone to overdose?" Pietro said suddenly, startling himself out of his own daze.

Tony stared at him. "None o'your business."

Pietro raised his eyebrows. "Tony, your business is my business. You are my business. Now I suggest that you start to talk, and soon, I might add, or you may as well set up tent here."

"This is like fuckin' criminal interrogation," Tony replied angrily. "What the hell did I do wrong?"

"You got caught," Pietro said shortly, tapping his pen against his notepad.

"Yeah, well fuck you."

Pietro lifted his gaze, a slight smile flickering on his lips. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Do that," Tony said curtly, glowering at him.

Pietro smiled knowingly, nodding towards the hanging clock on the wall. "Tick-tock, Tony. It's 2:40 right now. Now, while I would most definitely enjoy your charming presence in my office for the rest of the day, I'm guessing that you'd rather leave on time."

Tony glared at him in reply. "Well, fuck you," he repeated, though he clearly was starting to realize the hopelessness of the situation.

"I'll repeat the question. Have you ever lost anyone to overdose?"

Tony bit his lip, his heart pumping with fury. "One guy," he said grudgingly.

Pietro nodded, writing hastily. "Good friend?"

"No," Tony shrugged casually. "Knew each other."

"What drug?"

Tony glared at him. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"I was assuming that you were with him at the time. Were you?"

Tony shrugged again. "I guess, but there was so much shit goin' around that I never knew what really happened. Fuckin' doctors said he died of a heart attack."

"Stimulant."

"What?"

"Stimulant. Increases the heart rate."

Tony frowned. "Whatever. It was his fuckin' fault that he died, anyway. He had a bad heart to begin with. Shouldn'ta been messin' around."

"But you still do."

Tony whipped to attention at that, his short temper churning once again. "Fuck you, asshole. I'll do what I want. Don't fuckin' sit there and preach me, man. I'll kill you if you do."

Pietro didn't even look up from his writing. "Wasn't preaching you, Tony. I'm just saying, your friend died of overdose and you haven't even thought once about quitting?"

"Why the hell should I? He was the dumbass that OD'd. Not my problem."

Pietro looked up, his icy blue eyes carefully scrutinizing Tony. "What about health reasons? What if you overdose and die, too?"

"I'm not stupid enough to do that," Tony replied scornfully.

"It's not a matter of stupidity."

"Yes it is, fuck you. If you're stupid, then you don't have control. If you don't have control, then it's better that you fuckin' die."

"It doesn't bother you that your friend died because he 'didn't have control,' as you say?"

"He wasn't my friend and it was his fault, anyway."

"It didn't hurt, not for a second?"

Tony glared at him. "What're you getting at? You saying I'm a fucking cold-assed bastard?"

"I didn't say that, Tony. I just want to know what your feelings are on the whole situation."

"Yeah, well you're right. I am a fuckin' cold-assed bastard. I don't care. It was his goddamn fault and what happened to him won't fucking stop me from doing it again."

"I understand, Tony."

"No you don't. You don't understand a word I just said because you don't know what it's like out there, man. There's the weak and the stupid and then there's the strong and the smart. The weak and the stupid die, and I'm still here 'cause I'm not."

"And I'm glad."

"Fuck you."

~15 Years Before~

"I hate you!" Todd Tolensky screamed, kicking a chair to the floor. "Fuck you! I'll tear this whole house apart if you don't fuckin' give them to me now, Lance!"

Pietro watched in open-mouthed horror as the crazed younger boy ran around the tiny family room, frantically ripping everything from the walls and shelves and throwing it to the floor, jumping up and down until the floor was littered with shards of broken glass and plastic and wood.

"Todd, calm down," Lance ordered sharply, hurrying forward to control the young boy.

"FUCK YOU!" Todd shoved him aside violently, his eyes blazing with rage. "Fuck you!" He yelled again, picking up a clock and throwing it across the room. "Where the hell are they?" He sprinted from the room and into the kitchen, furiously yanking open the cabinets and shoving the contents aside. "Where the hell did you put them?"

"Todd, calm down," Lance shouted, roughly grabbing the young boy by the shoulders in an attempt to restrain him.

"LETGO OF ME!" Todd shrieked, his eyes bulging. He reached forward and shoved the unexpecting Lance into the counter, sending him sprawling to the floor, moaning. "I know you have them!" He exploded, brutally kicking Lance in the stomach.

"Todd...stop…" Lance gasped, his face contorted in pain and shock as he attempted to deflect Todd's blows.

"Todd!" Pietro rushed forward, his heart pounding wildly. "Todd! Calm down! It's me, remember? Todd, it's me!" He desperately searched the red-rimmed eyes of his young friend, desperately seeking some bit of sane recognition.

"LET…GO!" Todd screamed, shoving him away. "Fuck you! You don't understand!"

"Todd…" Lance said hoarsely, pulling himself to his feet. "Todd, buddy, you need to chill. It's all right. What do you need?"

Todd's eyes bulged, his face quivering with rage as he turned on the older boy. "You know, asshole! I know you still got them! You're a dirty-ass lying bastard – "

Lance took that opportunity to grab Todd and wrestle him to the floor, splinters of glass crunching beneath their squirming bodies as the younger boy angrily struggled to escape his grip.

"Fuck you!" He screamed, writhing uselessly. "Fuck you fuck you fuck you! I hate you! I hate you! You don't even understand…" He started to cry; salty tears flowing freely from water jaded eyes, intermingling with the sheen of perspiration that coated his grayish skin. "I hate you!" He choked out, his body starting to jerk as sobs tore from his throat. "I hate you…you don't even understand. I hate you. You don't – you don't know what it's like for me – "

"It's hard for all of us, Todd," Lance replied piercingly, his grip still firm on the bony wrists. "We're all in on this together. You need to calm down."

"I – I am calm," Todd said in a strangled voice, fat tears oozing relentlessly from between his eyelashes. "God, you don't even understand. I hate you…I am calm. I hate you."

"You can't keep doing this," Lance continued, though his voice shook slightly. "Todd, you need to get over it. Freddy's gone and freaking out about it won't bring him back." He paused, breathing deeply in an attempt to cease his trembling. "Todd?"

"Fuck…you…" Todd replied, his voice cracking. "I hate you. You're a fucking hypocrite. I hate you. I know you still have them somewhere and you use 'em, asshole."

"I'm clean. We all are."

"Like hell you are."

"Todd, listen," Lance said, frustrated. "Using isn't gonna help. You gotta deal with it. Me and Pietro are here, buddy. We know what you're going through."

"No you don't," Todd whispered. "I need them. You guys don't, at least Pietro doesn't. You just say you don't."

"Todd…" Lance could feel tears forming in his eyes. "Me and Pietro, we'll help you get clean. You'll feel better in a little bit, buddy. I promise. It hurts right now, but it'll get better."

"No it won't," Todd mumbled. "You don't understand. I need them." His eyelids drifted shut and he passed out then, leaving Lance and Pietro kneeling in a wavering silence.

"You think he'll be ok?" Pietro asked tentatively after a minute, watching the young boy's thin chest rise and fall with his breathing.

"I don't know." Lance sighed, his eyes wet. He ran a hand through his dark hair. "Pietro?"

"Hm?"

"You think he really hates me?"

Pietro studied Todd intensely for a minute, pretending that he was thinking about something else. "I…I don't know," he said helplessly after a moment of tense silence. "I don't know." He gently brushed a shard of glass off the unconscious boy's cheek. "Couldn't…" He hesitated. "Lance, couldn't you just give him something?" When silence answered him, he exhaled deeply. "He's just a kid, Lance." He gazed imploringly at the older boy, who simply sat stiffly.

"He needs to get clean," he said sharply, though his tone cracked with longing. "We all do. It's not my fault, Pietro. What if one of us ends up the way Fred did…" He concentrated on a spot on the wall, refusing to meet Pietro's intent gaze. "Look…I'm sorry. But we have to deal. Life's like that." He turned toward his friend, his eyes pleading. "Please…you understand, right?"

"Yeah…" Pietro nodded slowly, tasting a slow bitterness forming in his mouth. "I understand." He shrugged, trying to appear unconcerned. "Better take the kid upstairs."

"Yeah…" Lance smiled nervously, getting to his feet and dusting the broken bits of silverware off his knees. Carefully, he picked Todd up and started making his way toward the stairs.

"Wait…Lance?" Pietro said suddenly.

The older boy turned, Todd's head flopping uselessly against his chest. "Yeah?"

Pietro bit his lip, almost afraid to ask. "Um…Todd – he's not right, is he? I mean, you don't still use them?"

A tear rolled down Lance's cheek in response, it's crystalline depths harshly magnifying his tan skin. His eyes glittered with pain and remorse, yet his lips remained firm. "No," he whispered, shaking his head slowly. "I don't."

End of Chapter One