FicWad

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except Tara, Kari, and all the other people you don't recognise from Marvel. So, if there's any rabid lawyers out there - go bite someone else.

Crystal Drops and Hawks
Chapter One

"Hey, wait up, Tara!"

Two girls sped through the corridors of the orphanage, sandaled feet slapping loudly against the cool wooden floors. The second girl paused in mid-stride, glancing behind herself for signs of approaching teachers, especially approaching teachers looking in need of a scapegoat. Not particularly wanting to become a scratching post for every stressed, frustrated teacher in the building, she grimaced at the noise they were making.

. "Come on, Kari, or we'll be late!" the first girl called, her short-cropped dark hair bobbing around her shoulders with each step. "Professor Lenora told us to make sure we were outside by three o'clock!"

"Slow down. She can't really expect us to be on time, not when she's never on time herself," The second girl exclaimed, struggling to keep up with her scrawny partner-in-crime. Tara had a major advantage in height. Short, stocky, and tanned despite her struggle to get the least amount of fresh air possible, Kari knew she'd never have that effortless, loping stride. She forced her feet to move faster, her calves beginning to burn.

"Kari, today we're having a guest. He's supposed to be really important. I heard-"

"You eavesdropped, you mean," Kassandra, or Kari, cut in with a knowing grin, her voice breathy as she spoke between footfalls.

"You'd be surprised what you can hear when you listen. Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," Kari gave Tara a playful shove; "Professor Lenora wants us to show him around. I don't remember what she said his name was. Professor Avery or something."

"Why us?" Kari asked. "Why not have Karla or Sam show him around? They're the brainiacs. Or maybe Anthony, the human dictionary."

"Because of that project we did last semester in school, when we researched the history of the orphanage."

"I would have just taken the exams if I'd known that this would come of it. That took ages to complete! Going through all those old blue-prints, and making that model of the school-"

"But we got to explore the basement and attic. Students aren't normally allowed to go in those places. And we got to see inside the staff rooms."

"Hooray!" Kari replied sarcastically. "It would have been a whole lot less work to just sneak into there when nobody was around."

"You're unhappy about this? What about me? How am I supposed to sound relatively intelligent if all I can say is 'um'?"

"So you're taking out all your nervous energy on me by making us run there? Tara, unlike you, some people don't find zooming through the hallways fun!"

"But it is! If any teacher asks us to slow down, we can just say we're late to meet this Professor and they'll let us pass."

"Says who?" Kari asked, glancing behind them again as if those very words would be enough to summon a teacher from a nearby room.

"I tried it already," Tara informed Kari smugly.

"Oh." Kari fell silent for a moment. "He must be really important then."

"Yep."

They reached the doors leading outside and Tara paused before opening the door. She peeked out the window; palms flat against the cool metal and took a deep breath. She could see Professor Lenora's burnished hair sparkling in the mid-afternoon sunlight through the window. "Okay, breathe. He's not going to fry me and eat me for dinner. He just wants to know about the school," she murmured. For some strange reason, the pep talk wasn't helping her nerves any.

Kari leant against the wall, panting. She swept her twin braids behind her, wiping damp wisps of blonde hair from her forehead. "Gosh, Tara, you make it sound like he's a monster. I'd go first, but I don't know if I can. I'm still winded from racing here," Kari shot at her friend. Tara moved aside gratefully.

"Thanks, Kari."

"You're welcome. You owe me one, though."

"I'll help you with that Global History project tonight," Tara promised as Kari pushed open the door. She stopped talking abruptly as she caught sight of the man Professor Lenora was helping out of a car and into a wheelchair. Professor Lenora turned around, smiling.

"Tara, Kari! Not late this time, I see," she commented with an easy smile. "I suppose Tara's told you everything there is to know about the Professor you will be showing around?"

Tara grinned affably at her favorite Professor. "No, Professor."

"Only that we're to show him around the school because of the history project we did last semester," Kari sent Tara a mock glare. Tara smiled sheepishly back.

"It sounded like fun when I heard about it," she offered. Kari snorted.

"Professor Xavier, please meet my two students, Kassandra and Alyatara."

"Nice to meet you, Professor Xavier," the two girls chimed.

"I'm very glad to meet you both," he told them, eyes twinkling in his bald head.

"I'll leave you three alone to get acquainted, then," Professor Lenora commented. "Tara, can you run these bags up to the guest room in the Green Wing?"

"Yes, Professor," Tara picked up the bags and was about to head off when her Professor called to her.

"Kari and Professor Xavier will still be here when you get back, Tara. I didn't mean run in the literal sense."

Tara checked her pace. "Yes, Professor."

Kari sat down on the grass beside the Professor's wheel chair. "The Green Wing is just about the farthest away from the parking lot," she explained. "Even if Tara goes slowly until she's out of eye sight, it'll still take her a while."

"I take it Alyatara likes to run?"

"Likes to run? I reckon that in her past life she must have been a deer or something! She's got enough energy for the both of us," she grinned. Tara was the athletic one, whereas Kari had always preferred to read about people doing things involving physical exertion than actually doing them herself. Fast and agile like a gazelle; Tara's frailty lay in her painful shyness around people she didn't know well.

Turning, Kari stared at the trees of the forest in the distance. They swayed in a healthy breeze. Normally it would have been a hot August day, but the wind kept everything tolerably cool. She could just barely see the glint of blue in the forest of the lake.

The door to the orphanage opened just enough to let Tara slip though, much chastened. If she had been a dog, her tail would have been in between her legs. Kari's smile vanished when she saw her friend's look.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Nothing," Tara answered, her eyes flicking to Professor Xavier quickly before her gaze became fixed solidly on the lawn under her feet. She wiggled the toes on one of her feet, watching how the tiny movement affected the individual blades of grass.

"What was your project on?" The Professor asked, wheeling himself forward as Tara went behind him to push his chair. "No thank you, Alyatara, I'll get it," he assured her.

"Yes, Professor."

Kari snuck a glance at her friend. "It was on the history of the orphanage and the school. Tara," she sent Tara a mock-exasperated look, "found out about it from Professor Lenora last semester."

"Professor Lenora said that I could do that Project instead of our semester test, since I was, um, wasn't here for a lot of one of the units."

"Where were you?" Professor Xavier asked politely. Tara's eyes grew a bit darker and her cheeks flushed slightly.

"I was adopted," she said shortly, and Kari took over to avoid the long, awkward silence she knew would follow.

"Tara thought it sounded neat because we'd get to explore places we wouldn't be able to otherwise, and accepted. She was only half done by the time of the semester test. Professor Lenora looked over what she'd planned on including and decided it was way too much for one person to handle, if said person wanted to get any sleep in the next few months. Tara hadn't yet mastered the art of power napping, so she was going to have to end up dropping a lot of information."

"Professor Lenora said that if I wanted to keep everything, I could choose one person to help me, and in return, that person wouldn't have to take the semester test either."

"So she chose me, and I accepted." Kari grinned at the friend who had become almost like a sister to her in those few months, however grudgingly the friendship had started out. "I admit that I had some fun at least," she said wryly.

Tara beamed, skipping a step and whirling around to walk backwards so that she could see her friend. "I told you so!" she exclaimed. "Ha, you admitted it."

"Yeah, well, I didn't really like the snakes that were nesting in the basement," Kari shot back.

"The snakes? Did you take a look at some of those spiders?" Tara shivered slightly. "Ugh, some of them were as big as my palm!"

"The snakes are far worse than those spiders."

"The snakes were rather cute," Tara protested. "You were just annoyed at the bats that were nesting in the bell tower."

"Bats I don't mind. Bats getting into my hair and relieving themselves on my clothes - that I mind!"

"They were fuzzy," Tara pointed out.

"What did you expect? For them to be naked?"

"You never know," Tara grinned. "Maybe one day we'll stumble across bats that have purple spiked fur."

"The only bats that would look like that are those that Kathy gets her hands on."

Once inside, Tara gave Kari a Look.

"I have to use the restroom. I'll be back in a moment," she said, heading off toward a door to their left.

"Me too," Kari burst out, following her inside. Professor Xavier just caught the edge of the conversation. "So what did you eavesdrop this time?" Kari felt a thrill of foreboding when Tara didn't protest against her word choice. The normal, "I was only listening in," speech didn't form on Tara's lips.

"It's awful! The Professor isn't here to hear about history! He's here to take one of us away, maybe both!"

"It's horrible!" Tara finished. "And Professor Lenora said that it's doubtful that he'll take both of us! We'll probably never see each other again." She shuddered. "I don't want to go. Not like the last time."

"The last time you were adopted. This time you're just going to a different orphanage. Besides, I might be going too," Kari, pointed out.

"But what if you don't? I'll miss you so much! You're like a sister to me!"

They embraced, hugging each other tightly. "I'll miss you too. But Tara, wherever you go, we'll still be friends. I'll never forget you."

Tara sniffed, tears flooding her eyes. "I won't ever forget you, either. And if somebody else tries to adopt me, I'm leaving. I'm coming back here, and there's nothing anybody can do about it!" She sniffed as they spilled over her cheeks.

"Tara, not all people are as mean as the people who adopted you," Kari sighed, getting a paper towel down. "Collin wasn't. Here, wipe your eyes and blow your nose. We've still got to show the Professor around, and I bet you wouldn't want him to know you were crying."

"He called me Alyatara," she mumbled, even as she realized how childish she sounded. "They called me Alyatara."

"That was how you were introduced. Nobody else knows why you came back except me. Nobody else knows what happened with Them," she spoke the word venomously, as if it were something poisonous or sickly that would sting her if she didn't hold it at arms length. "Here, I'll tell him that you don't like being called Alyatara. He looks like a nice sort of person. I'm sure he'll call you Tara."

"Thanks," Tara whispered, hugging her friend tightly as if afraid that if she let go, Kari would disappear forever.

"Here, the Professor is waiting for us. Come out when you're ready."

Professor Xavier was waiting when Kari came back outside. "Professor?"

"Yes?"

"Tara really doesn't like being called Alyatara," Kari's brow knitted as she glanced worriedly toward the entrance to the bathroom. "She often says that her parents must have had a really odd sense of humor, naming her that."

Tara gave a small whimper and clutched her temples as Kari left. For a few minutes, she thought her head would burst from the pain, and her stomach began to churn. She had the feeling that something big was trying to fight its way out of her, something that she didn't want to get out. Sweat beaded her forehead.

Finally, the pain began to ease until she was able to stand and sponge the sweat from her forehead. She pressed a damp paper towel to her face, willing the heat to leave and her flushed cheeks to go back to their normal pale color. But since when have I ever had good luck? She wondered as she took a deep breath and walked around the corner.

Kari looked up as her friend came out and her smile faded, replaced by a worried countenance as she took in her friends red face. "Tara, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," Tara assured her friend as the headache beat its familiar tattoo against her forehead. It'll go away eventually. It always does, she thought.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Come on, Professor Lenora wanted us to show him the old boundary line. We'll have to hurry before it gets dark."

"You had another headache, didn't you?" Kari asked her friend later that evening, after they'd gotten the Professor settled in his quarters. He was to stay for the next couple days. They were to continue to shepherd him around when he wasn't meeting with the other teachers.

"Yes," Tara sighed. She was lying on her bed, an ice pack (a bag of frozen peas snuck from the cellar) planted on her forehead. She didn't want Professor Lenora to know. She would only fuss, insisting that Tara stay in bed, drink prune juice, and eat lots of onions and garlic. Tara was beginning to hate the taste of prune juice.

"We should tell Professor Lenora. She could get you some Tylenol."

"No."

"Come down to dinner, then. You can't just not eat or drink anything. Maybe you'll feel better if you get some food inside you."

"No, I won't. I eavesdropped on Professor Xavier and the Headmistress talking. He's going to take me as a Ward. Headmistress is making him," She stared up at the ceiling. "He lives in New York State."

From the small town of Northern Halifax, Nova Scotia, New York State seemed ages away. "New York State?" Kari burst out. "But that's got to be ages from here! It's in a whole different country!"

"It takes more than two days to drive," Tara said in an emotionless voice. "About five, six hours by plane. I asked the librarian."

"We can write," Kari said slowly. "Maybe once in a while Headmistress will let me use the telephone to call."

Tara sighed heavily, reaching up to tug the bag of iced peas back into place as it slid down to her nose. Her headache, which hadn't abated all day, was finally leaving.

"Go on down to dinner, Kari," she said slowly. "Don't starve yourself because of me. I'll get something from the kitchens later."

"No you won't, you'll 'forget'. I won't have you starving yourself. I'll bring you something back," Kari promised her friend. She gave Tara a tight hug before she got up. "You just rest here. We can worry about - about packing in the morning."

The next few days flew by. Tara was in one of the gloomiest moods she'd been in since coming back from the Wellington's residence several months before, swathed in bandages and jumping at shadows. The day before Tara was to leave, she wandered around the library, one of her favorite haunts.

The library was a room about the size of the cafeteria. Books were piled everywhere: on shelves, in cupboards, on tables and chairs. The older students, whispering to wide-eyed little children, said that the librarian spent her nights rearranging the order of the books so that anybody who tried to find a book to read would become lost in the never-ending shelves. Tara, who knew the librarian was not the crabby, grouchy old shrew that the rest of the school seemed to see her as, knew exactly where to find any book in the place.

The librarian, upon hearing that Tara was leaving, had granted her leave to take with her a few of her favorite books, provided they weren't needed for research purposes. Tara knew that she was really being forbidden from taking the blueprints to the school like she had been tempted to do, just out of spite to the headmistress. Since she knew them by heart, there wasn't much point in taking them for herself. She could just about draw them with her eyes closed.

Professor Xavier wheeled his chair in through the heavy oak doorway. The scent of dust and old books was thick upon the air. The wide widows along one side of the room allowed sunlight to stream in, illuminating floating dust particles. He saw Tara immediately from where she towered over the bookshelves. The librarian, being only about five feet tall, was always complaining about not being able to reach the shelves, and kept lowering the bookcases a few inches or so every year. As such, they were also slightly uneven, as her method of lowering the bookshelves lay in hacking an inch off the bottom of the shelves with a hatchet.

Tara was wandering through the bookcases, running her fingertips lightly over the bindings. Her face was wet and the fresh tear tracks shone in the dim light. "Happy birthday to me," she said softly. In the silence, Professor Xavier could hear her words clearly. "Happy Birthday Tara. Go pack up. We don't want you here anymore."

She pulled a book out of the bookcase and laid it on top, flipping it open and placing a small, brightly colored bookmark in it. She closed the book, pressed the cover against her cheek, and replaced it. Her adoptive father's voice seemed to ring in her ears. "Crummy kids attract crummy parents." She had mumbled a complaint that she had the worst luck when it came to foster parents. The fact that she had now been adopted three times, and sent back each time, wasn't common knowledge in the orphanage.

"Tara," Professor Xavier's voice seemed to boom throughout the silence, shattering it like a hammer to a delicate piece of glass. Tara spun around, eyes wide and dark. "Sorry, child, I didn't mean to startle you."

Yeah, well, you startled me, Tara thought, but then rebuked herself. He hasn't done anything yet. You might as well give him a chance.

Oh yeah, like I did the Wellingtons? And the Johnsons before that? And the Pruetts five years ago?

She bit back a sigh. None of them had lasted longer than a year, and the Wellington's had been the shortest. For three months she'd lived with sickly Agatha Wellington and her fanatical husband, Rob. Three long months until he was locked up in jail for child abuse and fraud and she - well, she still had the scars from the burns. When she'd heard that the headmistress was making her leave, she had felt like somebody had dropped leaden weights into her stomach as the remains of her tattered vow never to leave the orphanage again fluttered to rest, broken, around her ankles.

"We have to leave early to catch our flight. We should leave at about seven o'clock."

"Yes, Professor," she answered. She felt a stab of relief. At least as a Ward he would not expect her to start calling him dad or father or Uncle Charles. And even if he did, she would refuse. She was sure she had once had a father, and that would be the only one she would call that name.

"I am very glad you are coming with me. I'm sure you'll be happy in New York."

Tara scowled inwardly. She felt the familiar stirring of fear and her head began to throb painfully. That's just what They said, she thought, face going pale. She felt a sharp, burning pain on her left palm. Looking down at it, she saw that her palm was red and raw. She curled her fingers around the burn, her stomach plummeting. I thought they'd all healed. What could I have burned myself on? Ever since she'd left the Wellington's, she'd avoided anything hot enough to burn: burners, hot pans fresh from the oven, kilns, etc. Anything that would bring back memories of Them was treated with avoidance and fear.

"Are you okay?" Professor Xavier asked her, wheeling closer. She squeezed between two of the bookcases, a snug fit for her and one she knew he would never get through with his wheelchair.

"Yes." She lowered her eyes to look at the titles, hoping he'd take the hint and go away. Oh, it's my favorite. Her headache forgotten, she ducked down to pull down two old, battered volumes. They were big books: all over 900 pages each. She heaved them up onto the top of the bookcase and blew the dust from the covers.

She smiled sadly as she flipped through a few pages, reading about Merlyn and King Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table. The second book was three novels shoved together, containing stories of Queen Elisabeth of England and Princess Mary of Scotts. She ran her fingertips over the covers reverently.

"I thought she'd gotten rid of these. I thought they must have fallen apart ages ago," she mumbled to herself as she ducked back down, scanning the shelves. She found another of her favorites, a collection of Terhune's books on Lad and Lassie. She set the heavy tome down beside the others. "The Librarian said a few. I hope that one of these doesn't count as more than one."

"Well, if you said that you thought she got rid of them a long time ago, she probably wouldn't mind. If they are that old, she might have forgotten that they are there."

"Oh, the Librarian wouldn't forget," Tara, murmured, reverently touching the first page of Lassie Come home. "The Librarian doesn't forget anything."

Professor Xavier chuckled, and Tara flushed. "Goodbye, sir," she nodded her head to him as she picked up her heavy burden and walked into the back room. The door, old and warped, didn't close all the way and he could hear her voice and that of the librarian as he steepled his hands, a frown settling over his face as he listened.

"Could I have these three books?"

"Certainly, Tara. Are you sure they'll fit in your duffle? Those three must weight a ton!'

"Only a small ton, ma'am. I was wondering...could you sign the inside cover for me? So that I'll - well, just because?"

"Yes, Tara, I'd be glad to. Thank you for thinking of a wrinkled old prune such as myself. You take care of yourself, now, and don't let that Professor of yours push you around."

"Yes, ma'am," Tara replied, smiling, "Thank you, ma'am."

"You're very welcome, dear. Run along now."

Tara stared out the window of the airplane, trying to fight the howl of misery that longed to escape her. If she weren't feeling so dejected she would have been excited, this being her first - and probably last - ride in an airplane. Professor Xavier was in the seat beside her, but she steadfastly ignored him. She didn't want to be anyone's Ward. Giving it serious thought, she had decided that being someone's Ward was almost the same as being adopted, something she'd struggled against ever since she was eight years old and had just come back from the Pruett's. She wished she could go as far away from the Professor as was possible miles above the ground.

Instead, she contented herself with inconspicuously edging away from him. She was good at being inconspicuous. Must come from spending half my life trying to keep out of the view of my adoptive parents, she thought bitterly. Kari, I miss you so much already.

Tara wished she could just wake up and find herself back at the orphanage, with Kari sleeping in the twin bed next to Tara's. What wouldn't she give to wake up and talk to Kari to drain the horror from the memory of a dream she knew was just that - a nightmare.

She rested her head against the window with a sigh. The cool glass pressed against her forehead. The glass helped to sooth the vague headache that had begun to haunt her endlessly nowadays, a reminder of the constant torture she'd lived through at the Wellingtons and was probably now going to go through all over again. The pain seemed to never let up, not even in sleep, for she'd wake up in the morning with a worse headache than she'd started out with. Eventually her head seemed to grow numb to it, leaving just a slight fuzziness of thought.

Professor Xavier turned his head to look at the sleeping girl beside him. "I wish you would trust me," he said softly. She frowned in her sleep and shifted her forehead against the glass to find a new position, where the heat of her skin had not seeped the coolness from the surface.

Five and a half hours later Professor Xavier laid a hand on Tara's shoulder to wake her. She sat up straight with a gasp; wincing as the back of her head hit the window with a dull thunk. "We're here," he told here. She nodded, shaking her head slightly to try to clear the feeling that was filling her brain, like somebody had stuffed her ears with cotton wool. She felt the back of her head where a lump was rising and grimaced.

Tara looked around her with wide eyes as they stepped out of the airplane. "The academy is in Bayville," Professor Xavier informed her as he rolled his wheelchair down the ramp. "I arranged for one of my students, Jean Grey, to pick us up."

"Am I to live at the academy?" Tara asked in a small voice.

"Yes. There are dormitories attached to it. You will go to school in the nearby high school. I hear that you are to be a freshman in High School this year. How old are you?"

"Thirteen, Professor," she informed him. "My birthday was yesterday."

"Then you started Pre-school when you were two?" he asked her.

"No. I was home schooled until I was seven, when I went into third grade."

Professor Xavier went outside to watch for Jean as Tara got her bags from luggage chute. She slung her backpack onto her back, stumbling a step backward under the solid weight of it. Most of the weight came from the three books she packed carefully between layers of her clothes. Looking up, she saw a familiar, hawk-nosed profile in the distance. Mr. Wellington? How did he get out of jail? She thought. Panic rose inside her as she edged toward the door, bending her knees to appear shorter than she really was as she slipped outside. Please don't let him see me; she begged whatever higher powers might be listening in. Her back to him, she didn't see as he turned around, sighting her retreating back and giving the sadistic smile that had always made her stomach turn over.

There was a red convertible waiting for them outside. A red-haired, grey-eyed lady stood beside it, chatting cheerfully with the Professor.

"Professor Xavier, welcome back!"

"Hello, Jean. I'd like to you meet Tara. Tara, this is Jean Grey."

"Nice to meet you," Tara said softly, eyes as wide as dinner plates and twice as dark. Her skin seemed twice as pale beneath her mop of curly dark hair.

"It's very nice to meet you too, Tara," Jean said warmly, extending a hand that Tara took timidly, biting back a wince as the burned skin on her left hand stung painfully. "Here, let me help you with your bag."

"That's okay. I can get it," she slipped out of the shoulder straps. Nobody was going to take her bag while it still held her books in it. "Besides, the straps come loose if you hold it wrong." This bag had been through fire and back - literally.

Jean helped the Professor into the car as Tara climbed into the back seat. Holding her bag on her knees, she rested her forehead on it, half-closing her eyes. She felt tired, emotionally and physically, and welcomed it. Things didn't hurt as badly when you were bone weary. And if I'm not mistaken, I'm going to be hurting real soon, she thought wearily as she thought back to her sight of Rob Wellington. Her one comforting thought was that obviously Professor Xavier wanted her. If it came down to a legal fight, the Professor would win. Even so, Rob was more likely to steal her away, rather than face a court battle. He was a wanted criminal, after all. She dreaded what would happen if it came down to that. He would be merciless.

"I was glad to come and get you. Logan decided to take us on another 'happy survival trip'," Jean commented wryly as she stashed Tara's small suitcase in the trunk.

Jean climbed into the car and started the engine, making Tara start and her eyes to shoot open all the way. The breeze whipped through her hair and she stared almost unblinkingly out of where the window would have been had the hood been up. She gaped as the academy came into view.

It was an immense building. More than twice as big as the orphanage, the mansion towered above her as they drove up the gently sloping driveway. "I trust that you haven't burnt down the Institute in my absence?" she dimly heard Professor Xavier remark to Jean, who chuckled.

"Not from lack of trying," she joked.

Jean parked the car. "Tara," Professor Xavier called. "Why don't you go wait inside while we set up my wheel chair again?"

"Yes, Professor," Tara rose obediently, slipping from the car and striding up the front steps where she opened the front door just far enough to be able to fit inside.

"Professor, you know your wheelchair takes hardly any time to set up."

"I know, but I wanted to ask you something. Jean, can you show Tara to her room? She is not very fond of me at the moment, and I haven't quite figured out why as of yet. I wish to refrain from prying," he tapped his forehead, "for as long as possible, although it's rapidly looking as if I may be forced to."

"Is she human?" Jean asked. "I must say; none of us expected you to come home with anybody, much less a Ward."

"I do not believe she is human, yet I think she has been repressing her mutant powers for a very long time." He frowned, stroking his chin. "I do not believe she is ready to accept the fact that she is a mutant. Another mutant, a Robert Wellington, physically and emotionally abused her a very short while ago. She has not fully recovered from it."

"Why did you bring her here?" Jean asked. "It sounds as if she might never become a mutant at all if she just keeps repressing her powers like she has been doing."

"But if she doesn't, I don't want to think about what might happen to her if she falls into a mental institution, like Wanda," he looked suddenly stern. Jean nodded, chastened.

Just inside the academy doors, Tara pressed her ear against the door. She was unable to hear anything but the murmur of the two voices outside, the deeper rumble of Professor Xavier and the higher treble of Jean. They're talking about me, she thought, biting her lip. Scheming, most likely. Just like the Wellingtons. Of course, it wasn't so bad until Aggie died. She remembered Agatha Wellington, sickly and pale. In her three-month stay there, she could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen the woman standing. However, Aggie had always tried to shield her from the brunt of Rob's wrath.

Her stomach began to churn and her throat seemed to close up as she took her ear away from the door, a sense of hopelessness and impending doom falling over her. Why does everything have to hurt so badly? She wondered as she leaned heavily against the wall, letting her bag drop limply from her fingers as she forced back tears. You'd think I'd be used to it by now.

The door opened. Tara straightened, picking up her bag as Jean followed Professor Xavier through the door. "Jean will show you to where you will be staying," the Professor informed her. "I will speak with you again after dinner."

"Yes, Professor," Tara nodded. Those two words seemed to be all that ever came out of her mouth around him, but there wasn't much she could stutter on with that.

Jean gave the girl a smile, beckoning for her to follow. "Come. You are to stay up in the wing right above the library," she chuckled quietly as a slow smile bloomed across Tara's face. "Yes, we thought you would like that."

Tara slipped her arms back into the straps of her backpack as she followed Jean up a flight of stairs and down a corridor. Soon she was completely lost. She'd always had a pretty good sense of direction, which had been incredibly helpful in her long treks through the woods, but the corridor seemed to twist and turn like the smallest stream running through a mountainside.

Jean opened a door upon which Tara's name had been written in white chalk on a small black chalkboard. "This is to be your room," she held the door open as Tara stepped inside and stopped dead, mouth falling open.

The room was bigger than the one she'd shared with Kari back at the orphanage, but she didn't have to share this one. The coverlets on the twin beds were smooth and unruffled. The room was too clean to have seen a recent occupant. A window looked out into the backyard. The sun painted the sky as it descended behind a forest, and she thought she caught a glimpse of a flash of silver that might have been a river before Jean laid a hand on her shoulder.

She flinched away, whirling around as her head gave a particularly nasty throb. Jean pretended not to have noticed her reaction. "I'm glad you like your room. Dinner is in thirty minutes. I'll leave you alone to unpack. Don't worry about finding your way around right off," her eyes twinkled kindly. "I was lost too when I first came. I'll come back for you."

Tara scowled resentfully after Jean walked out the door. No, you just don't want me wandering off before you can do whatever it is you do to people here to me.

That's silly, part of her whispered. Has Jean ever done anything to you?

No, but that doesn't mean anything. She's his accomplice. Why would he want to have me as his Ward anyway? This'll be just like the Wellington's. She sighed, sitting down on her bed and dropping her bag on the coverlet. The weight dimpled the mattress slightly. Maybe I could just run away, she thought, a slim stirring of hope rising within her. Maybe, I could just sneak off out my bedroom window during dinner, and

Idiot, part of her shot back, that never worked and it never will. If they want you bad enough, they'll get you back. Why would they bother adopt you if they didn't want you bad enough to keep you?

It worked for the Johnson's, she thought resignedly; they just got so tired of me running off that they brought me back. She remembered with a shudder how Rob Wellington had reacted the first time she'd run off, already nursing several burns along her back. She hadn't been away for three hours before he'd caught her. She fingered the long scar that ran down her arm, one of the only ones that hadn't come from fire. He had been so mad at her; he had used a knife.

Jean came back as promised, and Tara looked up at the knock. "Come in," she called.

"Dinner's going to be in a couple minutes. Come with me, I'll show you where the dining hall is."

Tara, who was sitting cross-legged on the bed closest to the window, one of her books on her lap, looked up at Jean, eyes pleading. "I'm not hungry. Could I just go to bed? I'm really tired."

Jean hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Yes. Goodnight, Tara. Pleasant dreams."

Tara waited until she heard the door click closed behind Jean before allowing herself to relax again. She leaned back against her pillow, her weariness falling down around her. She hadn't been lying about being tired; although that wasn't the real reason she didn't want to go down to dinner.

She didn't want to have to face Professor Xavier, or any of the other people who must live here. She realized that even if she did try to run away, she didn't have the strength to run far before her imminent capture. Leaning over, she shoved her book under her bed and safely out of sight before allowing her eyes to close and sleep to overtake her.

Tara groaned inwardly as she resisted the urge to kick her locker. On second thought, maybe the pain in my foot would distract me from the one in my head, she thought. The locker gave an oddly satisfying crash. She let out a yelp as pain flared in her foot. "Ouch!" she grabbed her foot and leaned against her locker, breathing hard. "Oh, I am an idiot!" she burst out, turning to yank hard on the handle of her locker. The door swung open. "Oh."

The end of her first day at school, and she already wished she had taken Jean's advice that morning and stayed home. When Jean had come to wake her up at 6:30 in the morning, only to find that Tara was running a fever, she had insisted that Tara stay home. Tara had proceeded to try to sneak out after her and Jean had given in - reluctantly.

"But I've got to go to school! I'll miss my classes, and I know how hard it is to catch up!"

Jean looked stern. "Stay here, get better, and you can go tomorrow. What good is going to do you if you can't concentrate for your classes?"

Professor Lenora would have tied me to my bed, she thought with a small smile as she slung her pack over her shoulder, looping the straps over her thin shoulders. It seemed to have gained twenty pounds with the addition of three textbooks.

I hope I can find my way back to the Academy, she thought ruefully.

You will, part of her told her. Just look for familiar landmarks.

All the other kids had probably already gone home, so she didn't have anybody to follow. She'd spent ten whole minutes trying to get her locker open. Bayville was so different than Northern Halifax, sometimes seeming to be halfway around the world. The High School was a far cry from the poor little school she'd come from, where they had to scrap to buy schoolbooks and the primers were old and outdated.

She sighed contentedly as she walked out the door. There was so much to learn here! She especially loved her history class. Since she'd been old enough to borrow books from the library, she'd devoured all the historical fiction she could get her hands on, along with whatever fantasy books there were. It was fascinating to read about the Kings and Queens of old, of their triumphs and their tribulations, of medieval romances and Quests for holy grails and white hinds.

Trudging along the street, she kept her eyes peeled and muscles tensed and ready to run. She remembered how at the Johnsons, the neighbor's sons had liked to chase her down the street, pelting her with pebbles and small sticks. What was to say that the kids here would be any different? She'd never been to any place that hadn't had its share of horrors, except the orphanage. At the orphanage, the other kids left her alone if she let them be. She'd had Kari by her side. Who could get lonely with a friend like that?

She saw the shape of the academy rising in the distance and sighed. She wished she could just keep walking, all the way back to Northern Halifax. With a sigh, she turned and began to jog up the driveway. Running had lost its appeal. Pushing open the front door, she trudged slowly up to her room, dumping her bag on her bed.

The forest seemed to call to her. She remembered all the times she'd dragged Kari outside to explore it, before and after dark. She remembered the glint she'd seen, and wondered if this place had a lake too. Probably not, she thought pessimistically.

Can't hurt to look, part of her whispered. She felt a stir of her old spirit. She walked over to the window, throwing it open, and a slow smile bloomed across her face as she looked at the tree branch not too far from her window. I can go tonight, she thought. Or maybe I'll go now the normal way, and go back later tonight. That way I won't get lost.

She grinned to herself as she opened her door and skipped down the steps - right into Professor Xavier. The smile disappeared from her face and she stopped dead. "P-Professor?" she asked, cursing her stutter.

"Hello, Tara. I hope you are well?"

"I'm okay," she answered, a wary look in her eyes. It was like that of a cornered animal.

"I was just wondering because you did not come down to dinner last night."

"I was tired," she answered quietly, ducking her head and inspecting her shoes as annoyance rose inside her. First you drag me here, and then you lecture me because I wasn't hungry?

"How was your first day of school?"

"Good."

"I hope the Tylenol helped your headache."

Tara's head shot up and she glanced at him suspiciously. No you don't. You're just like Him. "It did," she lied. By now she knew that Tylenol did nothing to help ease the pain in her head. For a moment she remembered the hot branding iron, inching closer to the skin of her palm... Tara cut that thought off, suppressing a shudder. "I was going to go outside," she said hesitantly, as if expecting him to bark at her that she couldn't.

"Have fun," he told her, wheeling away. She leaned against the wall, shuddering, as soon as he was out of sight. She could almost feel the searing heat against her skin... Glancing down at her palm, she saw that it was beginning to blister, like when she'd first gotten it. Her eyes widened with horror and with a small moan she dashed outside.

By the next morning, all of her old burn scars along her back, legs, and arms had followed the one on her palm, losing their callus and becoming a raw red, and sore to the touch. She wrapped them in bandages and avoided touching them, for the contact made her head throb.

The other kids had come home late the night before. She'd only heard them because she'd been about to sneak out into the night, to sit by the bubbling water and let it soothe away the throb that pounded in her skull. Levering open her window, she'd shoved at the frame to shut it hurriedly as she saw the black jet land nearby. Several moments later, several shadows had walked by, groaning and complaining. The shapes had blessed the fact that they were finally back in civilization, with hot showers and flushing toilets ("A blessing from whichever Goddess is against Logan's God of cruel and unusual punishment," a soft female voice had exclaimed).

Ducking back inside her window, she'd quickly shut off her flashlight, afraid of the lecture and/or beating she knew she'd get in the morning if somebody had seen that she was awake at 2:30 in the morning. She'd managed to get out of another "chat" with the Professor after dinner, with the excuse that she still had homework to catch up on. She'd blocked all but the thought of that hideously long English assignment from her mind and he'd sighed, nodding reluctantly. She knew he wasn't fooled and that she wouldn't be so lucky today. Eventually she'd have to face him.

Tara yanked on the handle of the locker, in the midst of another argument with the stubborn hunk of metal. The locker just wasn't convinced that she should be able to get it open so she could stash her books in it. Looking up, her eyes widened. Rob Wellington was walking toward her out of the crowd of students, held back by the stampede. Her stomach clenched and she almost thought she'd lose her lunch then and there. It's HIM! She thought, panicking. How did he find me here? She spotted Jean's prominent red hair over the crowd and ran over, weaving in and out of the mob of people to reach her before she disappeared.

She was one of her friends. Tara almost lost her nerve. She snuck a glance back. Rob had stopped and was looking around with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed, searching. She turned her back and crossed her fingers. Between Rob and Jean, she'd choose Jean. At least Jean didn't have psychotic tendencies that she knew of.

"Um, Jean?" she took a deep breath as Jean turned around.

"Tara?"

"Um, maybe could, um, I walk home with you?" she asked, eyes wide and scared. He'll get me if you don't; she pleaded silently, stomach turning slow circles.

"I have a project to work on in the library," Jean told the girl, brow knitting in worry. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Tara squeaked, shaking her head violently.

"You just look, well," Jean stopped, looking over the crowd. "See that guy over there, with the red-tinted glasses?" she pointed to a tall, dark-haired boy leaning against a locker and watching Jean surreptitiously. Tara nodded. "He lives at the Academy also. His name is Scott. He'll give you a ride home."

Tara gulped, looking up at her. For a moment she debated hiding in the library, waiting for Jean to finish her project, but the knowledge that Rob would probably get them both if she did made her throw that idea away. Jean smiled slightly, giving her a small push toward Scott. "Go on," she told Tara. "He doesn't bite."

"Yes'm," Tara dashed over to him, casting a look back over her shoulder. She could tell that Rob still hadn't spotted her. "Sir?"

Scott looked down in surprise at the soft squeak from beside him. The sound came from a tall, skinny girl, her face so pale that her freckles stood out like pebbles beneath her curly mop of dark hair. "Sir? Jean said th-that you could give me a ride back to the academy. Could you? P-please?"

Scott smiled reassuringly, and Tara swallowed hard. "Sure. Are you new?"

"Yessir," she answered, ducking around Scott and standing beside him, bending her knees slightly so as to hide better behind his tall form. She yelped and jumped backward into the locker with a crash as another boy popped up beside her out of nowhere. Brimstone momentarily filled her nostrils.

"Hey Scott! Rogue and Kitty are waiting by your car," he announced with an easy smile.

"Thanks, Kurt. By the way, this is Tara. She's staying at the Academy."

"Cool. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," she replied. Some of the color returned to her face. Rob wouldn't attack her if she were with a big group. What if he follows me back to the academy? He's probably just waiting, biding his time until - she cut that thought off. I'll just have to stay at the Academy. I can say I'm sick, or hang out around Jean on the way to and from school. The thought made her almost as apprehensive as the thought of seeing Rob again. She'd come to find that being Jean Grey meant shooting yourself in the foot on a regular basis.

"Come on, Tara," Scott called to her, and she dashed out to follow him, casting a look behind her. Back at the Academy, she burst in the door and leaned against it, panting. The headache, which had finally begun to leave her alone, seemed to be burning a hole in her skull. She gave a small sob, pressing her palm to her forehead and yelped as pain flared in her head and hand. Looking down, she saw with horror that the skin of her palm was shiny and blistered.

"Tara! What's wrong?"

Tara looked up, startled. One of the other students was standing beside her. Kitty grabbed her hand, looking at the burn on it with alarm on her face. "What did you do to your hand?"

Tara wrenched her hand away. "Nothing!" she exclaimed, breaking free from Kitty and running up the stairs, all sense seeming to leave her in her terror. He's back, she thought. He'll find me here. I've got to get away - somehow. She burst in through her bedroom door, slinging her bag on the floor. The river! I'll go to the river! He'll never think of finding me there! If I just keep out of sight until nightfall, maybe he won't even come here.

She flung open her window, not daring to chance going out the front door. Not with Rob Wellington waiting for her to show herself. Stuffing some bandages in her pocket to bind her blisters with later, she climbed onto the sill, gathered herself, and leapt.

She bit back a scream as the rough bark ripped through the blistering skin of her palm. She swung up onto the tree branch, breathing heavily. I can do this. Just get down from the tree. You can do this, Tara; you've done it before back home. She couldn't hold back a moan of pain as her injured hand came into contact with the branch. She didn't trust herself to look at it, so she wrapped her arm around the tree branch, closed her eyes with a muttered prayer, and slipped off the branch. It was at least ten feet down to the ground, which she hit hard, rolling to her knees from the force with which she collided with the earth. Then she was off, running for the forest at top speed, head beginning to spin as beads of sweat popped out on her forehead.

At the river's edge, she dunked her hand into the cool water, letting the ice-cold liquid numb her flesh and clean out the wound. Her hand was an awful mess. She seemed to have shucked off an entire layer of skin. Blood was beading around where the capillaries had fed oxygen to her skin cells. She took the slightly wrinkled bandage from her pocket and wrapped it firmly around her hand, tucking the end in neatly before leaning against the tree-trunk and closing her eyes, waiting for her headache to abate its steady crashing throb against her skull.

"And then she just ran, Professor," Kitty told Professor Xavier as he sat and listened. "She looked like she'd just seen a ghost!"

"Thank you for telling me, Kitty. I'm going to go check the security cameras."

Tara clutched her head, rocking back and forth as hot tears spilled down her cheeks. "The pain won't go away," the dreaded voice spoke from behind her. She looked up through her tears to see the tall, dark form of Rob Wellington staring at her. Blind terror overcame her vision as she got to her feet, stumbling backward.

"I do admit; I would have thought it would take longer to track you after I broke out of jail. Imagine my surprise when I called the orphanage - under a different name, of course - only to find that you had become a Ward of some Charles Xavier. But no matter, soon you will be mine again."

"I'll never be yours," Tara spat, anger beginning to burn inside her, a white-hot flame. "Never!"

"Oh, we'll see about that. Don't you remember the last time we had a little chat?" he reached down, grabbing the hand without the bandage. "Eventually you will bow to my wishes." He pressed his fingers to her palm and she screamed as pain lanced through it: the sensation a hot iron being pressed against her skin. Rob dragged her to her feet.

"I must say, I was surprised to catch you so easily, even with reviving your old burns to track you with. Yes, a surprise, isn't it? I would have thought you would be up in your room, moping. Imagine my surprise, and my relief, to find you out here, within easy reach. Now come, we're leaving before those mutant freaks up at the academy come down to rescue you."

Tara felt a shock of surprise. Mutants? What did he mean by that? "What?"

"You don't know?" he asked, looking at her incredulous and bursting out laughing. "I would have thought, living at the Institute with their leader - but no, I suppose not. I am a mutant, as are you."

"NO!" she burst out. "I'm not like you! Never!" She pulled free of him, dashing off down the bank. Rob laughed maniacally.

"You can't run from me, Tara," he said, waving his hand. Flames leapt up around her. Tara screamed, splashing into the river. Her headache seemed to grow with the flickering flames.

"Gotcha," Kurt materialized beside her and grabbed her arm before she could jump away from him, blinking out again with her in tow. The next thing she knew, she was looking up at Professor Xavier. She collapsed on the ground, clutching her head.

"Tara, what is wrong?"

"My head," she managed to grit out between clenched teeth. "It won't stop. It always stops! Why won't it stop?" she remembered what Rob had said, how she couldn't hide from him. She stood up quickly and her head spun. "He's coming," she managed to burst out. "He'll come and - and -" she saw again the red-hot poker, and gave a shrill cry as another of her burn scars seared with pain again. She curled into a little ball on the ground, the memories she had tried so hard to forget flashing through her mind. There was a loud crash and ice-cold water began to pour down from a burst pipe in the ceiling, flowing over the flagstone floor.

"Tara, let me help you," Professor Xavier wheeled his chair forward and she stumbled back, away from him, the pain in her head blinding her vision.

"No, Rob, go away! Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"Tara, I won't hurt you." He wheeled forward again. When she didn't back away, he pressed his fingertips to her forehead.

Memories of the Wellington's

No, Rob, I'm not going!

My head, it won't stop! Pain!

Kari, help me!

Memories of the Pruett's' and Johnson's

Why do you hurt me?

Rob standing over me, holding the poker

Red-hot poker, coming closer

Pain!

Tracking me, going to find me. Can't run, can't hide.

(Tara, listen to me. Let me help you!)

Professor Xavier wheeling toward me in the library. Why did I have to leave? I swore I'd never be adopted again.

(Tara!)

(Professor, where are you? I can't see you!)

(I am here, Tara)

An image of Professor Xavier in his wheelchair, stretching out his hand. I take it. There's something against my forehead - not Him; he hurts. This helps, soothing the headache that has plagued for so long.

Wet?

Tara opened her eyes. She could feel Professor Xavier's fingertips against her forehead. Her headache was slowly draining away, leaving a calming peace in its wake. One of her hands was holding herself up; the other was clutching Xavier's hand. Professor Xavier opened his eyes as she let go of him, smiling gently at her as he sat back.

Tara smiled back at him, pressing her own hand to her forehead. She felt - normal. Her smile widened to a grin. Looking down at her hand, she saw that the blistering had faded, leaving not even a scar. She sat on her haunches as she pulled the bandage off her other hand. The skin was completely healed. "I'm me again," she said happily. "Thank you!" Only then when she took notice of the puddle of water around her feet. "Oh!"