WHOEVER BROUGHT THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER HADN'T BROUHT THE MASK. Everything moved so fast that Ruth couldn't keep up, but one moment there was screaming, and the next she was screaming. She felt the familiar sensation of being blasted by the foaming substance that sprayed out the nozzle of the mockingly bright can, but instead of the safety of the mask, a frightening barrier between her and blindness, all she could do was hold her breath and squeeze her eyes shut, muffling her screams as she raised her hands towards her face, trying protect herself, starting to shake.

"Peter, wait—" she heard someone call, and she would've let out a sigh of relief if she wasn't too afraid of inhaling the carbon dioxide.

"Fall back, I'm gonna get it off her," someone else said, and she recognized it as the boy—Scott—and before she knew it, there was something touching her face, soft as it wiped away the foreign substance, soft fingers pressing against her cheek, keeping her in place.

There was special attention placed on her eyes and by her nose, which she appreciated, and it was only when they moved to her eyes that she chose to breathe, glad to find that there was nothing inhaled except air and the faint smell of smoke.

"You can open your eyes now," Scott said, pulling his hands away, and Ruth nodded, not daring to open her eyes until she wiped at them with the back of her hands, making sure that she could feel nothing before she dared peer out.

When she did, she found a group of teenagers staring at her with wide eyes, all huddled by the far wall, inching towards the door, and she sighed, feeling her chest tighten at the fear in their eyes, the distrust and wariness, a preparation for the worst, as if she were at threat rather than a teenager.

It seemed that she was both.

Looking to the side, she found Scott standing next to Alex, the two holding their arms out over the other, as if ready to protect at a moment's notice. Alex didn't seem afraid, more concerned than anything, but Scott was not so trusting, his expression more like the others than the man who, as Ruth quickly put together, was his brother.

All the air seemed to be sucked from the room, and Ruth didn't know what she was supposed to say. Fortunately, she had been calmed down before she could do too much damage, but it was clear they were all too frazzled to even begin explanations, let alone introductions. She was ready to roll underneath the bed and suffocate to death with the dust bunnies, but before she could start to make any sort of move, a pair of footsteps interrupted her attempts.

"We came as quickly as we could," Charles began, appearing in the doorway, Hank close behind, pen and paper in his arms, "Jean, what happened?"

Everyone turned their attention a bewildered redhead, and Ruth registered that this was the girl Scott had been looking for, and she glanced towards the boy, only to be startled by all his attention being turned back to her, as well as everyone else's.

"Ruth?" Charles called, giving her a supportive smile, and she blinked, not having heard what had been said.

"What happened?" Hank asked, setting the paper down on the bed, leaning forward in preparation to take notes, keeping his eyes trained on her.

Ruth sighed, looking towards Scott for help, but before the boy could begin speaking, more than ready to take charge, she forced herself to explain for herself, not interested in correcting whatever he might get wrong.

"He needed help looking for his glasses," she began, motioning towards Scott who nodded in agreement, "And then I just laid down here. But then I remembered what happened last night and started getting scared, then they all barged in and started yelling. Then one got up in my face, so my hair caught fire and they got me with the fire extinguisher."

"Without your mask?" Hank asked, startled as he looked towards the group, raising his eyebrows, "Who was it?"

A man with silver hair raised his hand, looking rather flustered as he cleared his throat, avoiding eye contact. "Listen, she was gonna burn the whole place down, you should be thanking me, I saved the school again."

"Yeah, but she could've been the one getting hurt," Hank said, rolling his eyes, only to tense, his entire body freezing, eyes flickering over to Alex who was leaning against his case.

The blond grinned, his scarred skin stretching as he did, and a laugh escaped his pearly whites. "Like I said, you got a sense of humor while I was gone."

Hank rolled his eyes without much bite, his scoff more of a breath than anything, and Alex just continued to grin. Whatever they were referencing was something that no one else understood, but they were all fine to watch, just as Ruth did, until the two remembered that there were more pressing matters to attend to; of course, considering what had happened to Alex, no one seemed all too inclined to wipe the smile off his face.

Scott, with his lips pressed into a thin line, lightly nudged his brother, jerking his head over towards Ruth, and the blond immediately sobered, nodding. "Yeah, Peter just shot at her with the thing, but Scotty helped her get it out of her eyes and stuff, so she's fine. Right?"

The question was directed towards her, genuine rather than a nudge for agreement, and Ruth paused, mulling over her response. She wasn't interested in oversharing with the group of strangers, but she also knew that lying and saying that she was completely fine would be counterproductive, as she would have to record the incident later on with Hank for his files.

"I'm not not fine," she tried, leaning against the bed, and it was clear that her response wasn't going to be accepted by anyone, sans Alex and Peter who seemed rather amused, fighting back smiles as they nodded.

Hank, who had started to write down her response, paused, looking at her without lifting his head, adding another layer of exasperation to his already unimpressed look, though he forced himself to soften, possibly when he remembered whom he was looking at.

"Can you be more specific?" he asked, his tone even, and he looked over towards Charles who gave him a supportive smile, the man resting his elbow on his armrest, tapping his finger against his lips.

Ruth sighed heavily, tilting her head back, trying to pretend that she wasn't being ogled by complete strangers as she closed her eyes, trying to understand what she was feeling; if she knew, maybe she would know how to handle it better.

"I'm just tired," she admitted, which was as close to a complete explanation as she was going to get, "I was scared before, but I'm tired. I don't want to do anything, I don't want to move. I don't have any energy."

Hank hummed to himself as he finished transcribing her less-than-ideal explanation. "You sound fatigued. Did it just start today or have you felt like this before? Recently, I mean."

Ruth tried to shrug, though her shoulders didn't move as much as she had hoped they would. "I mean, I've been sad and tired since getting here, Dr. McCoy."

"They call you Dr. McCoy?" Alex gasped, though one look from Charles had him clearing his throat, dismissing his question with a wave of his hand, pursing his lips to hide his smile.

"Only she does," Hank explained, relenting, before turning his attention back to Ruth, "I asked because this fatigue could be a side effect of your wings manifesting, especially considering it was your first time. When your initial mutation first manifested, the report said you were unconscious for three days."

"Wait, you've got wings?" Peter interrupted, his eyes wide as he looked at her, and Ruth wondered if his hair was naturally silver or if he had colored it to be that way.

"They just manifested a few hours ago, Peter, we're trying to get to the bottom of her mutation, it's very difficult for her to control, and there doesn't seem to be a rhyme or reason to it, the pattern isn't always perfect," Charles explained, and Ruth didn't know how to feel about him just telling people information about her, though it seemed that he trusted these people, so she said nothing.

She wouldn't have said anything either way.

"I mean, she got really freaked out and scared before her hair lit up, so maybe it just happens when she's scared," Scott ventured, motioning towards her as if she couldn't hear, and that didn't make her feel any better at all.

"While you do have a point, that's not necessarily true, it happens when she's angry as well," Hank countered, tapping his pen against the palm of his other hand, "And it happens while she's asleep mostly now, but she can't control it when she's around us. If she manages to create anything, it gets out of hand."

"So it just happens when she gets upset in general," Peter finished, looking at Hank and Charles who didn't seem keen on admitting so.

"But it doesn't always happen when she gets upset, only certain occasions," Jean supplied, reading between the lines, raising her head from where she had been eyeing Ruth curiously.

"That must be difficult to manage," a boy whose name she had yet to learn—the boy that had, as much as Ruth would regret to admit, scared her when he first appeared—commented, and while it was a good observation, he also failed to acknowledge Ruth's existence while making it.

Soon, they were all starting to talk, their sentences overlapping as they all tried to understand the situation that Ruth was in, all while neglecting to include her in the conversation, motioning towards her in passing without a second thought, reducing her to nothing more than a glorified figure to gesture towards in the school lecture that was their conversation.

Ruth was used to being overlooked—any attention she received was typically unwanted, so being forgotten was generally a blessing—but this was an experience entirely separate; at least when she was ignored, she didn't have to worry about people giving her a second thought, let alone a first. With this, she could hear every thought that passed through the minds of people that had no business speaking about her, dissecting her brain as if they had any right to go poking around, as if she was already dead on the examination table instead of leaned against the bed, counting the days until she finally was.

It aggravated her beyond belief, the feeling of being cast aside, and she felt more alone in this room full of people than she ever did by herself in her room, where she had been before Scott had fallen in and demanded that she help him.

The boy in question was using that very experience to spearhead the conversation, explaining how tired she sounded when walking with him, and all that she had told him, commenting his speculations on why, as if he knew anything about her.

"I guess she's sad," he finished, with a shrug of his shoulders, arms crossed over his chest, and the others nodded along, having been listening to his regaling of their quest to his find his glasses.

"Yeah, no shit!" Ruth shouted, unable just sit and take it anymore.

She clenched her jaw and grit her teeth, glaring as everyone whirled around to stare, as if just remembering that she was a living, breathing human being just like them, and that only made her feel worse, her chest tightening and heart rate increasing, her hands balling into fists at her sides, fingernails digging into her palm, nerves screaming in pain but the rest of her body not caring, almost reveling in the reminder that she was still alive.

"Ruth," Charles began, wheeling over towards her, holding his hand out placatingly, "Let's just take a breath, we'll talk about it."

"So now you want to talk to me?" she demanded, and she always wondered what overtook her when she reached this point, what being possessed her, taking away any and all inhibitions, leaving her thoughts with no filter to protect any of the parties from her words and what followed.

"What do you mean?" Charles asked, and that only infuriated her, the constant calm in the face of her anger, as if she were nothing more than a petulant child, her feelings not worth his energy; of course, that wasn't Charles' perspective at all, but Ruth could never be convinced while in a fit of rage.

"Why are you asking me, you obviously know everything about me," she spat, "Or maybe ask everyone else, I'm sure Scott can figure something out since it's so obvious that he's got me figured out, even though he couldn't even see me when he first showed up."

Charles opened his mouth, most likely to tell her to take a breath, to tell her that she was screaming, that no one was against her, but Ruth wasn't interested in what he had to say. "You don't get to act like I don't matter, if you want to know about me, you ask yourself and you wait for your answer, you don't get to just assume shit about me, and you don't just get to tell people shit without asking!"

Charles had the decency to look embarrassed at the last point, as did everyone else, but Ruth was too far gone to try and make amends or forgive; right now, all she wanted to do was scream.

She glared at each person in turn, forcing them to hold her gaze, wanting them to know how she felt, wanting to show just how much they didn't know; if they wanted to try and understand her, they would have to get actually know her, and she needed it to be clear that she wasn't going to make it easy.

She found herself caught at Scott, his glasses making it impossible to know if he was actually looking at her, and that only angered her more, the memories of all the noise he made, of all the questions he asked, of how she had to get out of bed and help him find his glasses, forcing her into the position she was in; it was all his fault.

Her rational brain tried to break loose, tried to remind her that Scott didn't force her into doing anything, not really, and that there was no reason to hate someone who only wanted help, but reason was no match for anger, especially not the level of anger that Ruth possessed, and any hope of containing her rage herself was lost the moment someone else stepped onto the scene.

"Honestly, Ruthie, you're scaring them."

Ruth couldn't see him, and she couldn't hear him, but her mind supplied her with more than enough thoughts that she might as well have. Anger made people think strange thoughts to begin with, but for Ruth, it downright tortured her.

"You know," Lionel hummed, jumping onto the bed, lying on his stomach with his head hanging on the edge, just by hers, and Ruth willed her mind to stop, "It kinda makes sense, you know, you getting mad over nothing. I'd say it's almost like you wanna kill them all, but since it's you, we both know you really do."

The real Lionel would have never said anything like that, he would never be that cruel, especially not to her. But that wasn't the real Lionel and, unlike him, Ruth was more than happy to be cruel to herself, but that didn't mean she was going to just sit and take it.

"Just shut up!" she bellowed, and whether it was to the group or to her own mind, no one would ever know, but they were all very aware of what happened next.

"Peter, get her mask, it's in the lab!" Hank shouted, motioning for Scott and Alex to get with the rest of the group, ushering them all towards the door as Ruth burst into flames.

It was a strange sensation, almost freeing, and Ruth could never describe it after the fact, but if she were able to think clearly in the moment—and she never could—she would find that, for the majority of it, it was as if all the anger bubbled to the surface, as if every last shred of feeling and pain that she had ever felt was being felt all at once, in a fit of pure rage that was fit to be shown through fire.

But then at the end, just before it was all over, before all her energy was taken away, there was a feeling of pure bliss. An empty that wasn't numb, but waiting. A blank slate without anything to be set down, a nothing of possibilities that would never be found, and it was all the better that way.

It was a fleeting moment at the climax of ruin before it all came crashing down.

Before she could come anywhere close, Ruth found herself being encased by the mask, her heart skipping a beat and her body instinctively freezing, but only for a moment. Then she was clawing at the edges of the mask, fighting to take it off, but unlike before, it wouldn't move, then her arms were being pinned at her sides, hands tied by something she couldn't see, and the voices and shouting were getting louder, and she could hear Hank call out, but before she could fight to hear what he was saying, she was being sprayed by the fire extinguisher, but it was far too close, too strong, and she couldn't move, and suddenly everything was still.

She felt her skin prickle and her hair start to stand, and her breathing grew shallow and ragged behind the mask, and she didn't know if they stopped spraying her or if she simply couldn't hear, but soon she couldn't move at all, and she was given the silence she wanted, but it wasn't the moment she was usually given.

The last thing Ruth thought, before she faded out of consciousness, was that she never remembered her fire being so cold.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 07.29.19 )

I actually wasn't planning on ending it right here, but I figured that it would just be best to stop here and have the resolution be next chapter, as they're going to have a lot more time to understand things if I give them an entire chapter, so yeah, that's what we're doing.

Let me just say, I'm just as surprised as all you re-readers at the addition of her freezing, but it actually makes a lot of sense? One of my therapists told me that there was another option when it came to reactions, and that was freeze. Fight, flight, or freeze. So, as you can see, I decided to give her all three, if only to make the entire thing a bit more footing, though I didn't expect to have this done so early on, as we haven't gone over her wings completely yet, but it happened and there's literally nothing I can do about it now, I had the thought, I can't just desert it, it's too exciting an opportunity for me to pass up.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!