WHEN RUTH CAME TO, SHE WAS IN A NEW SET OF CLOTHES AND WRAPPED IN A BLANKET. She shivered as she tugged the blanket around her, looking around as she took in her general surroundings, realizing that she was on another table, but in the medical wing rather than in Hank's lab, and she didn't know what time it was or how long she had been out, but when she was finally able to sit up—which took her more time than she was willing to admit—she nearly passed out from fear, catching sight of the group watching her from the foot of the table.

"It's alright, Ruth, it's just us," Charles called, shifting the joystick of his wheelchair, making his way towards the side of the table, smiling up at her, and there was a calming presence about him, something that Ruth couldn't explain, and she had to wonder if he was using his powers because she wasn't sure if she would feel similarly at ease if it was with anyone else.

Unable to help herself, Ruth pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, wishing that she could find a way to be fully encased within the soft material, protected from the world and her mind, from what she could escape and what she couldn't, but a thin piece of fabric was nothing against the fabric of reality.

"Do you know what happened, Ruth?" Hank asked, catching her attention from where he was now by the monitors, looking over whatever scans and tests he had done, and was doing, on her, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose, his brows furrowed.

The memories came flooding back, and in the harsh light of the medical wing with the presence of everyone around, Ruth felt more ridiculous than scared, though the feeling of dread still lingered in the pit of her stomach, the residual fear found in the young and alone. But despite the slight pang of fear, she couldn't help but feel her face heat up in embarrassment as she thought back to the figures she had seen out of the corner of her eye, of how she had let her emotions get the best of her again; this time, the only one who had gotten hurt was herself.

"Erm, maybe it's best if Ruth and I speak privately, I'm sure that whatever happened, whether life threatening or not, was very upsetting in the moment and no one can be faulted for reacting humanly," Charles said, turning to the small group of adults before then turning his attention back to Ruth, giving her a supportive smile, reaching out and placing a hand on her arm from where it was hidden under the blanket.

"Did you get the note I left for you, Ruth?" Hank asked, and while it didn't seem like he was arguing, he wasn't making any move towards leaving, and Ruth was somewhat grateful; like everyone else, she felt very safe with Charles, but the idea of having to explain everything one-on-one was upsetting to think about.

She nodded silently, finally deciding that it would probably be in her best interest to speak up, croaking out, "What were you doing?"

The doctor turned to look at the foot of her bed, and she followed his gaze, finding an unfamiliar blond man giving her a wave and pursed lipped smile. She tried not to flinch when she looked at him, knowing that it would be incredibly rude, but she couldn't help herself, unsure of whether to look away or continue to stare.

While he was sufficiently clothed, his arms covered by a leather jacket, the exposed parts of neck revealed major burning. It wasn't entirely scarred, some parts of his flesh unscathed, but the scarring included the right side of his jaw, creeping up the side of his face, getting dangerously close to his eye, though his ear seemed to be fine, the back half of his left cheek bearing the same scarring.

"He was picking me up from the hospital. Finally got checked out of physical therapy, I can walk and everything," he said, raising his other hand to show a cane, the sound of a shoe stomping on the ground following shortly afterwards.

Before Ruth could ask him who he was and what had happened, another voice spoke up, the last in the group, and it was a wonder that Ruth's attention didn't immediately fall on the blue-skinned red-headed woman.

"I hope I wasn't the one who scared you, I saw you were running, but you didn't react too well when I tried to stop you," Raven said, and while her disposition was less than warm, her eyes betrayed a responsible concern, and Ruth appreciated that.

"I didn't know it was you," she admitted, because she hadn't, and she didn't want the woman to think that she was running away from her because of how she looked; that would have made things so much worse.

"The dark is a very scary place," Charles said, drawing the attention back to him, and Ruth startled when she found his gaze trained on her, "The mind even more so. Together, they play tricks. That's why it's always best to find light wherever you can, and that includes people."

Ruth took a deep breath, hating how she trembled, as if she had just spent the past hour sobbing. She didn't know how long she had been asleep, nor what time it was, but she just wanted to go back to sleep. However, from the looks of the people around, it was clear that she wasn't going to be sent back to her room so easily.

"Do you remember what happened, Ruth?" Charles tried again, giving her a hopeful look, and for all her embarrassment, she knew better than to lie to him; he would find out eventually, if he didn't already know.

"I remember running, then hitting my head," she explained, because she didn't think they had to know about the scary shadows she had seen and how terrified she had been; she had been told stories about what they had done, they wouldn't want to keep someone who was afraid of the dark.

"Yes, that is what happened," Charles began, propping his elbow up onto his armrest, rubbing at his mouth, glancing over towards the others who were all grimacing to themselves, watching her carefully.

"Ruth," he started, after a few moments of silence, "What is your mutation?"

She didn't like where this was going. Glancing around at the group, she cleared her throat, "We're still figuring it out, but I can set myself on fire. Ideally, anyways, usually it just comes up from my hair. I only set myself on fire once and I can't do it again. You know about it."

"Yes, yes, we do, and yes, we are still trying to understand the extent of your abilities, but..." he clicked his tongue softly, turning his chair slightly, turning towards Hank, "It seems that there is more to your mutation than we were initially aware of."

Ruth frowned at him, waiting for an explanation, but when none came, she turned her attention to Hank whose gaze was flickering between the screens in front of him and Ruth herself, his lips pressed into a thin line. When he saw that he had her attention, he stood to his full height, which was taller than anyone had any right to be, in her personal opinion, tilting his head slightly.

"You have wings," he explained, fiddling with the pen in his hand, pointing it towards her.

"Nice," the blond man commented, earning a sharp glare from Raven who shushed him, and he just smiled back at her, though it didn't quite meet his eyes, and Ruth wondered if that had anything to do with the scars on his face.

"Wings?" she repeated, feeling her heart rate start to pick up, "What do you mean wings?"

She twisted around on the med table, dropping the blanket so she could try and see, pulling at the shirt that wasn't hers, expecting to see open wounds on her back by her shoulder blades. When she couldn't see, she reached behind her, trying to feel for the tender flesh, but found nothing but the smooth skin that had been there before she had hit her head.

"They weren't there for long, they disappeared by the time that we brought you here, but we had all seen it, Raven especially. I mean, you hit your head on the ceiling, it's hard to do that even with wings," Hank continued, using his pen to point over towards Raven who nodded, verifying his statement, her arms crossed in front of her chest.

Ruth struggled to keep breathing, fisting her hands in the blanket, her vision starting to cloud. "How-how did I get wings, how—where did they come from?" The very idea of her skin shifting to make way for feathers made her want to keel over.

Hank opened and closed his mouth, finally stating, "That we're still trying to understand, I think it stems—"

"Erm, Hank," Charles interrupted, holding up a hand, his attention placed solely on Ruth, "Maybe it would be best to just let Ruth rest, we can give you the specifics once we've learned more. Right now, it would probably best that you get something to eat, you can go up to your room after that."

"I'm not hungry," she tried, but her stomach betrayed her mind, choosing that exact time to growl, the rumbling filling the space in the room, much to the amusement of some of the adults.

"I can take you," the blond said, stepping forward, "I brought chocolate chip muffins, you can have one."

Realizing that there was no getting out of it, Ruth climbed off the table, Hank calling after her that she, fortunately, didn't have a concussion, but if she noticed any problems to let him know. She wanted to tell him that she had been having problems ever since she arrived, but she knew better than to actually say it out loud.

"I'm Alex," the blond man explained, the two making their way towards the kitchen, and Ruth hummed in greeting as she followed him, tucking her hair behind her ears as she looked down at her new sleep clothes.

"The shorts are yours, but the shirt's Hank's, that's why it's a dress on you," Alex explained, glancing behind him to see her tug it down, the hem of the shirt reaching down towards her knees, "He figured that you'd want something pretty big after the whole wings thing. Don't worry too much about it, I knew a girl with wings once, they helped her out."

Ruth frowned, looking up at him as he turned back forward, continuing to walk. She didn't know many people at the mansion, but she had been told that there was only one other telepath at the mansion besides Charles—who that was, she didn't know—and while this man had just arrived, she didn't think that there would be another.

"I'm not a telepath, by the way," Alex said, looking at her again, giving her a bright, if not sardonic smile, "I just know what it's like to be angry and confused."

Nothing else was said until they finally reached the kitchen, and Ruth was surprised to find that the sun was only just starting to rise; it seemed she wasn't out for as long as she had suspected. Either way, no one else was in the kitchen except for them, and she found she could do nothing but sit at the barstool on the kitchen island, watching Alex make his way around.

He wasn't familiar with the set up, having to open and close drawers and cabinets, but he wasn't entirely foreign. He moved like someone who was visiting an old home, but a home that had changed since he had been there. Considering the way he interacted with the others, Ruth figured that was the case.

As he made his way around, she couldn't help but focus in on his scars and his cane. He had removed the jacket when he stepped into the kitchen, mumbling about how it was too hot, and while he seemed rather tense, most likely because she was staring, she couldn't help but stare.

His hands and wrists were burned almost as severely as his neck and face, but they seemed to be properly healed, though the burns faded almost immediately after his wrists. The back of his neck was perfectly fine and he leaned heavily against the cane, walking as if something heavy was tied to his right foot.

"You heard about what happened to the mansion?" he asked, turning to look at her from where he was grabbing the milk from the top shelf of the fridge. Ruth nodded silently and he gave her a mirthless smile. "Yeah, that was me."

Her eyebrows shot up in silent surprise and he nodded, reaching into a plastic bag and pulling out a muffin, placing it in front of her while he went to grab a plate and a mug. "Yup. I nearly died too, if it wasn't for that guy Peter. He got everyone out safe, but I was so close that I got dinged up pretty bad."

He paused, taking the time to pour both of them a glass of milk, putting their muffins on plates. He had initially gone to get himself cereal, then thought better and put everything back, coming to sit on the other side of the island, facing her.

"It had started to get at my face and hands, which is why these happened," he explained, raising a burned hand up towards the scars on his face and neck, "And with the way he grabbed me, heading back towards the others down the hall, it also got at my feet. 'Cause I had shoes on, it helped, but I wound up losing so much of one that they just cut it off and gave me a metal one. Hank modified it, made it cooler, but it took a hell of a lot of physical therapy to get me to walk right, 'cause I didn't get treated right away and I wound up getting hit by debris, busting up my arms and sides."

Ruth just stared at him, unsure of what to say. She had just met this man and he was telling her about the worst day of his life like he was recapping the highlights of the most recent baseball game. It was horrifying and comforting in a way she couldn't explain, but the pity she felt in her stomach was enough to make her sick.

"Don't worry about it, I've dealt with worse," he explained, taking a bite of his muffin, speaking around it as he added, "Well, no, this was pretty bad, but there really was a lot worse. I mean, when I discovered my mutation, that was pretty bad. Forced them to put me in solitary. I got a new family, lost half of them. Got drafted in the war, lost most of that first family, and lots of my others. Tried to get back on my feet, but people weren't too kind to mutants, still aren't. Finally reconnected with my actual family, realized I missed my brother growing up. Found out that he was saddled with the same thing I was, so I brought him here, then I lost my foot and got burned up. It's kinda funny, I shoot plasma beams out of my body, but I'm not invincible."

"I'm so sorry," Ruth whispered, because she didn't know what else to say, just staring at him, her milk and muffin sitting on the plate, watching as he ate, fighting back a wince when she saw him struggle to drink his milk.

"Don't be," he said, waving his hand dismissively, "I've had enough time to be angry and sorry for myself. If I was still angry, I wouldn't be here. Trust me, when I was your age, I was nothing but angry. It got me in trouble a lot of the time."

"I know what that's like," she mumbled, and he paused, raising an eyebrow at her, but one look told him that it was best he didn't push it.

Fortunately, he didn't, instead switching gears. "My brother's about your age, I think, you know him? His name's Scott. Scott Summers."

She shook her head, giving him an apologetic smile. "Sorry, no. I don't really know anyone around here except Dr. McCoy and the Professor."

"Aw, well, if you're up to it, try to find him. He's a little punk sometimes, but he's a good kid. Saved the world too. He was always the good one," he said, trailing off to stare down at his milk, and Ruth didn't know if she should get his attention or let him think; she knew firsthand how harmful thoughts could be.

But it didn't take long for Alex to snap back to reality, giving her a wry smile. "Here, how 'bout you just take your food up to your room, you eat when you're ready. I won't tell the others."

He gave her a wink and Ruth couldn't help but laugh, smiling as she nodded, feeling her body grow heavy at the thought of being able to lie down and go back to sleep. Even though she had been knocked out, it would be nice to sleep on her own terms.

Gathering up the plate and glass, she headed towards the stairs by the kitchen, already thinking over the quickest way to her room. Just as she was about to exit the archway, she turned, looking at Alex who was still eating alone.

"It was nice to meet you," she called, worrying on her bottom lip before adding, "I know what it's like to lose things. And what it's like to get really, really angry, so, um, you're not alone."

Alex smiled the smile adults gave when they understood what young people were trying to do and appreciated it all the same, knowing more than they would ever let on. Reaching out with a burned hand, he picked up his mug, raising it in a toast, his hand shaking ever so slightly.

"It'll get better, Ruth Dakin. You've got a family now."

Ruth could only hope that was true.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 06.30.19 )

I'm honestly so happy with how this chapter came out, I wasn't quite sure what to do, but I like how I wrote everyone much better, and I liked showing how Alex survived, but didn't come out unscathed, because there was no way he could have, the reason he hadn't survived was because Peter didn't get to him in time, it only makes sense that, if Peter did, he would still have received some of the blast, so I liked being able to explain that, I feel clever. I also liked not making Mystique the antagonist for no reason at all; I'm not sure if she and Ruth will get along, but Raven doesn't just hate some kid for no reason.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!