I don't own anything except any original character and/or any original plot

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Chapter Ten: Limits

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I woke up slowly. Rolling over to look at my alarm clock I sighed. I would be finish my first hour if I was at school. I picked up my phone, looking at the texts I had received. I answered Liz's simply.

Sick. Guess what I had at the Decathlon came back

I answered MJ truthfully.

Hero problems. Needed a day off

Peter had texted me a few times, but I ignored those for obvious reasons. One of Ned's texts caught my eye.

Peter says "I don't know why I said it but it isn't true."

I don't know what he's talking about but he means it

Breathing in deeply through my nose I closed out of the app, leaving both Peter and Ned on read. I didn't know how I could answer either of them. Ned didn't do anything wrong, but Peter was his best friend, he wouldn't understand. Spending a few more minutes on my phone I finally hunkered down and walked to the kitchen.

"Donuts?" I asked myself when I saw a box of them sitting on the counter. A sticky note was on top, "You deserve it, Mom and Dad."

Sliding open the box I took out a (F/d). The sweet taste enveloped my senses. I hummed appreciatively. I couldn't remember the last time I had a donut. Probably the last time the X-Men had finished a mission.

Success.

The word turned the sweet taste in my mouth bitter. What was success exactly? Different people gave different answers, so what was mine?

I knew one thing for certain. Success wasn't what happened the day before. If I wanted to be a hero, I had to do better. I had to be better. I was too content with controlling small amounts of water and concentrating them into weapons. I had to evolve.

Frustration bubbled up within me as I finished my donut. Every frustrating moment in the past week flashed through my mind in a slideshow. I had been in New York for a week and everything was going to hell.

The X-Men told me to go live a normal life, although the Professor implied that I should continue hero work. No matter what I chose to do, this wasn't what they would have wanted for me. Stuck in a state of self-hate and confusion. A bumpy road to a hero partnership gone wrong.

With breakfast finished I changed into a pair of exercise clothes. I stuck my phone into the small pocket in the pants and picked up my earbuds from my nightstand. Filling up a water bottle I carried it by my side on the way to the elevator. Once inside, I pressed the gym floor button.

Leaning against the railing I took in a few deep breaths. Closing my eyes I focused on the mechanical hum of the machine.

"God, I don't know why I worked with you in the first place."

"Bug-Boy-"

"What kind of mutant can't use their mutation?"

Whoosh. My eyes snapped open as the doors did. I stepped over the threshold and directly into the gym. Weaving my way through the different equipment, I settled on a punching bag in the corner. Logan always told me that when I wanted to punch someone, a punching bag was the next best thing. I was sure he didn't follow his own advice most of the time, but I appreciated it all the same.

The first punch was the one I would later regret the most. It was the key to the floodgates. Every negative emotion rushed through and concentrated in my punches. The force whipped the punching bag around on its chain. To compensate I bounced on the balls of my feet to shift with it.

Hooks, jabs, and kicks were thrown at the bag mercilessly. Sweat gathered along my brow and upper lip. Drips in between my shoulder blades told me it had gathered there as well.

I wasn't counting each punch, but I must have been around two hundred when the skin on my knuckles split open. The sting of my sweat hitting my raw skin caused me to hiss and pause in my assault.

My breathing was heavy, uneven. The insistent stinging in my arms told me I'd be feeling it in the morning. That topped with how far I had pushed myself already would make for a lot of pain. It made me wish I could really heal myself instead of just spreading the pain farther along my body.

Taking a long swig from my water I checked the time on my phone.

"Eleven twenty? I've been at it for almost an hour."

I wiped my brow with the back of my hand, careful to avoid making contact between my knuckles and forehead. A door on the other side of the gym caught my attention. POOL, in all caps, told me what was on the other side.

"We were surrounded by water and what did you do?"

"... You can't control a pool full of water much less a ferry."

Something hot and roaring flared in my chest. I marched over to the door, throwing it open. The smell of chlorine immediately hit my nose, burning it slightly. I pressed forward, pausing at the edge of the water.

The air was humid inside, different from the dry autumn air outside, and the controlled air inside the building. Chairs and tables were scattered around the pool, with a staircase in the shallow and a ladder in the deep.

"You can do this (Y/n), prove all of them wrong."

Pepping myself up I shook out my arms. They sang out in protest. Holding out both of my hands I concentrated on the element in front of me. Moving my hands up and down, I watched as the water became unsettled. Bit by bit it rose into the air out of the pool. All the water was out. I grunted, holding it in place as long as I could. Dropping it back, the water sloshed over the side and splashed my shoes. I didn't care.

I ran a hand under my nose. A red streak marked the back of my hand. I sniffled, smelling metals.

"Just like Eleven," I shook my head and left the pool.

I grabbed my water bottle from the gym and entered the elevator. Pressing the button for my floor I closed my eyes, relaxing. I had pushed myself hard today, physically and with my mutation. It was early in the day but sleep sounded nice.

The elevator stopped, and a vaguely familiar elderly man stepped inside. I smiled politely, keeping my eyes open this time. Silence fell over us until we stopped at my level.

"You might want to find some boxing gloves. Your hands don't look so good."

I chuckled, flexing my hands, "Thanks for the advice."

The man nodded as the doors closed. I entered my apartment and threw my keys on the counter, setting my water bottle next to them. I took of my damp tennis shoes and left them by the door. Leaving faint footmarks on the hardwood, I went to the kitchen.

Washing my hands in the double-binned sink, I tinted the water near the drain red. Knowing I would have to deal with the flesh wound, I healed my knuckles. I took two Ibuprofen to deal with the rising pain in my hands afterward. I went through the fridge and took out some leftover soup to heat.

When the microwave beeped, I carefully took out the hot container and set it on the counter. Getting a spoon I sat down and ate. I had a few more texts from Peter, ignored, a text from MJ, two texts from Ned, and a text from Liz. Answering the ones I wanted to, I opted to watch YouTube to calm down.

When I was done I put the bowl in the sink. I would wash it later, or pile up more dishes on top. Whatever was more convenient at the time. They would be washed eventually.

Not having anything to focus on, I was painfully aware of how sticky I was. Covered in dried up sweat and chlorinated pool water. It was 12:40, early in the afternoon, but I worked hard enough for a shower.

When everything was set up, I stepped under the spray of water from the showerhead. It was... strange. Normally, water felt like home. Like I was back at Xavier's. But now I was overwhelmed with insecurity. Sure, I had lifted the water in the pool, but it was something I failed at when people needed me the most.

"What use is a hero who can't use their powers?" I asked myself, turning the water off.

The pulsing insecurity shifted into a suffocating sadness. My mutation was something I was so confident in, minus the incident. Riptide wasn't scared of who she was. She was crazy proud and did what was best. Now I was unsure.

People said things they didn't mean when they were mad. I understood that. Ned had proven that Peter was in that situation, but the entire situation brought up all the thoughts I had pushed to the back of my mind. Now they were an army, waging war on all the positivity I felt.

I was young, a teenager, and emotions were at an all-time high. When mutations reacted to emotions, things could get bad. I wasn't as strong in my mutation as I wanted to be. Half- maybe more- of the world hated my kind and on top of that all I was generally inexperienced in the world of heroes and villains.

In a world where you could communicate with someone across the Earth in a heartbeat, I had never felt more alone.

Five Hours Later- 6:48 PM

I woke up from my long power nap to the insistent buzzing of my phone. Reaching over I grabbed the device aggressively. Holding it up to my face, I read off the text from Liz.

I know you aren't feeling well, and you totally shouldn't feel obligated to but homecoming would be great with you there.

That was right. It was homecoming night. In the midst of everything that was going on I completely forgot. I turned my head to look at my dress. It hadn't been removed from it's plastic covering since I bought it.

My fingers hovered over the keys as I thought about what to say. Half of me wanted to say yes, and the other half wanted to say no. I weighed my options, the pros, and cons.

Peter asked you to go with him, didn't he?

Yeah, we're just getting to the school. Dad is giving him 'the talk'

I chuckled, turning my phone off to get out of bed. Liz already knew my answer, so did I. My stomach grumbled, telling me to eat. I walked to the kitchen and got a snack to hold me over until my parents got home in thirty minutes to make dinner. While I was getting a glass of water my phone rang with a call. I was popular. It was the Star Wars theme, which meant Ned was calling.

"What's up Ned? Aren't you at homecoming?" I questioned, putting the phone on speaker.

"Peter just ran after the Vulture who is apparently Liz's dad and he needs help," Ned whisper-yelled in one breath.

"Did he ask you to call me?" My best friend's dad was our villain. Of course.

"Yeah, why?"

"That's surprising," I hummed casually, taking a bite of my food, "Look, Ned, I don't think Peter wants an incompetent mutant to ruin the mission. I'm sure he can handle it."

I hung up before Ned could say anything else. Leaving against the counter I ran my hands over my face. Why did I get stuck in a soap opera?

I do believe you could use some advice

"Professor? Are you using Cerebro?"

Well, Tony Stark contacted me and told me what happened. I told him a few words that made Logan scold me before I thanked him for watching over you. Now it seems that you need my help rather than my discipline

"I know people say things when they're mad, but I feel like he's right. He's right, why wouldn't he be?"

(Y/n), it's about time you pressed the other button on the locket we gave you. Everyone recorded something special for moments like these. Mine is the last watch it. Whatever you choose to do in this situation, we'll be proud of you no matter what

I felt the Professor leave my mind.

Leaving my snack on the counter, I rushed to my room. Snatching up my locket I hesitantly pressed the second button. A hologram appeared, a time stamp on the bottom. It was long, around an hour. Running my finger along the time stamp, I fast-forwarded until I saw the Professor's face.

"(Y/n), I believe I'm the last one on here. With that, I can give my advice and encouragement. In all my years of teaching and encountering mutants, you have made a mark I will never forget. Since the day we invited you to the school you were extraordinary. Filled with a fighting spirit I hadn't seen since the first class of X-Men. Even when your mutation revealed sides that frightened you, you worked hard to make up for your mistakes. You bring true meaning to the phrase mutant and proud."

My eyes burned with unshed tears. Closing the locket I grabbed my uniform from my closet. They believed in me. Maybe I didn't believe in myself, but they believed in me. I'd be damned if I was going to disappoint them.

In the process of pulling my uniform on, I texted Ned with one hand asking where Peter was. He sent an address for an old warehouse, long abandoned and scheduled for demolishing years from now.

With my uniform on I put on a later of blue lipstick. Crawling through my window I sent a text to my parents explaining the situation and tucked my phone away in its proper pouch.

~*~

The building Ned gave me directions to was demolished by the time I got there. I was doubting the address Ned gave me when I heard Peter's screams. While pain was an underlying factor, it was like he was encouraging himself.

"Come on Spider-Man. Come on, Spider-Man. Come on, Spider-Man!"

"Peter?" I maneuvered around, under, and over the rubble, following Peter's voice, "Bug-Boy where are you?"

"(Y/n), I'm over here," Peter's loud voice led me to him. His arms were straining under the weight of the pillar on his back, but it was nearly off, "I'm so close."

Activating my dispensers I assisted Peter in removing the rubble. Throwing it to the side I fell to my knees and pulled him into a tight hug. His arms wrapped around my torso weakly.

"You came."

"'Course I did Bug-Boy, we're a team. You don't have to do this alone. Now come on, we've got some villain ass to kick."