Chapter One

"Look, I promise not to ogle a single guy in the entire club if you promise to choose one guy to dance with."

I sighed. Jubilee, queen of italics, dragged me along to some club. Yes, I'm nineteen. Yes, I'm underage for alcohol consuption.

So what am I doing with a untouched Coors in front of me, in a night club?

Just then, the full import of Jubilee's statement hits me. Jubilee, the insatiable wander slut, promising to leave guys alone?

This is obviously a serious matter.

"Look, Jubes, I can't just choose a guy ... you know that. It isn't that simple for me."

Hello, and welcome to my mutated world. I'm a level four telepath, telekinetic, and touch empath. My physical appearance is ... somewhat unusual; namely I have pointed ears and slitted pupils. An exceptional sense of human smell (in other words, it's darn good for a normal human) and unusual agility and strength only add on to the mess called Tris. As such, choosing a guy doesn't isn't a simple procedure consisting of you-have-a-nice-bod-well-thats-good-enough-for-me. Because it just isn't enough for me. I can sense who and what they are, not to mention knowing all their sordid little secrets and whatever emotions they happen to be feeling at the moment. Plus I look like a sure-fire mutant to top it all off.

This makes the impulsive choosing of a guy out of the crowd somewhat problematic.

Jubilee is giving me a glare. Jubes has a glare for every occasion. Some of the more common are the 'I can't believe you (insert insane action here)' glare (reserved almost exclusively for Iceman), the 'I hate your miserable guts and hope you die of cyanne overdose' glare (generally for ex-boyfriends and Pheonix), the 'I'm so incredulous it's not even funny' glare (I have to say that's for Wolverine and Xavier usually), and, worst of all, the glare she was currently giving me, the 'I love you but this is for your own good' glare. I'm certain the last was invented soley for the purpose of torturing her supposed best friend.

Me.

"So turn off. For once in your life, live a little. Look around the room, choose a guy because he's hot and a good dancer, deck his current girlfriend, and ask him out! You've had one boyfriend in your entire life. Let somebody else break your heart besides you for a change."

I wince internally. Jubilee has an evil tongue and a decent guessing average when she gets worked up. Oh, Piotr wasn't my only boyfriend and he didn't break my heart, I did that, but ... I'm not going to think about him right now. In fact, I'm not going to think about him at all, period.

I sigh. My mutations of telepathy and empathy can be turned off and on at will, and my shielding defeats even the Professor. But after Piotr, every guy has to meet up to my standards. He has to be honest, trustworthy, and absolutely...

Oh. My. God.

"Woooooooow."

Obviously Jubilee picked up on the same guy I did.

I think Jesus just entered the room. Well, a blond and white-skinned Jesus wearing a trench coat, but ... you can practically see the halo.

"Jubes, he's mine."

Jubilee gapes at me. I shut my eyes, and try to hide everything that makes me a mutant. Empathy and telepathy, gone. Telekinesis, in check. Pupils ... okay, no longer quite so like slits in the dark, maybe he won't notice. Ears I can't change, but if I rearange a few curls the tips aren't so obvious. I suppose I ought to be happy that my outward mutations are so easy to hide, unlike Beast and Nightcrawler.

Sorry, did I forget to introduce myself? I'm Tris, aka Path. But that's my working name. Right now, Tris will do just fine.

I've never felt so naked in my life. With my usual spying methods gone, I'll have to relate like every other person.

This was a bad idea.

I am about to go and talk to a gorgeous guy voluntarily and ask him to dance.

I suddenly wish I hadn't been my usual fashion-ignorant self and worn something other than these loose jeans and a tank. Maybe I can turn around before it's too late. Maybe...

He's turned. He's looking at me.

Well. That's a bit odd. His upper body shouldn't be that thick, even under a coat.

"Would you like to dance?"

Wait a minute, that was my line! Well, if he decided to take the responsibility out of my hands, I'm not about to argue with him.

"Sure. Let me take my jacket off." If I'm going to dance, I want to make sure I'm not in that tiny little excuse for a jacket/corset that Jubes made me wear.

"Mind if I don't?"

Well, that's an odd question. Maybe he has a beer belly to make up for that hunky face. Well, I don't care. I'm about to dance! I can already feel the vibrations coursing through me. I used to love to dance, before The Incident, and being down on the floor with this gorgeous guy is more than I can take.

"Naw, doesn't make any difference to me. Slow or fast?"

He quirks an eyebrow. "Fast, if you can keep up."

"Keeping up has never been a problem for me."

I can't believe this. I'm flirting. I'm lieing and flirting. So what? Loosen up girl, Jubes is right. Live a little.

And he's so good-looking.

He leads me over to the corner where the fast couple dancing is going on.

I hope I haven't over reached myself.

Come on, you're Katherine, the girl who used to be able to dance circles around everyone else. Live a little. Is it just me, or is that getting monotonous?

Still, I think I better start out with just some basic moves. After all, this wasn't exactly my perfew so far as dancing went

Before Blondy has a chance to react, I'm dancing.

Let's see, I've watched Jubilation do this hundreds of times. Merge with the crowd, rolling off other bodies, posing, rubbing. Just move with the music girl, remember, you're dancing for him. Flip a hip, twirl the hair.

I turn around and face my partner, keeping my hips moving. He looks shell-shocked. I stop.

"What's wrong?"

Shit, was I that bad? Good going, just chased him off Path.

"You a dancer?"

I look away, avoiding eye contact in the hope he doesn't notice my pupils. "Almost was, a while ago." It's my turn to raise an eyebrow. "But it was ballet and formal, not ..." I indicate the crowd.

"What's your name?"

I look back. This is pretty friendly for just a quick dance. "Tris. Yours?"

His lips twitch. "Warren."

I can't help it, I have to laugh. So Jesus was not so close. "Almost worse than mine." Noticing the brief flick of emotion across his face, I inquire, "You still want to dance?"

He grimaces. "On seeing how you dance, I'm afraid I won't be an adequate partner after all."

"All right." Are you watching Jubes? I'm living dangerously. In fact, I'm beginning to wonder what you slipped in the water I insisted on drinking.

Keeping my eyes on his left ear (well, it happens to be a very cute left ear), I move closer. "I could just dance while you watch." Did I mention that another catlike ability of mine is purring?

My peropheral vision sees his eyes widen. "I think I might enjoy that."

I grin. Yup, Jubes definately put something in my drink. I used to be an semi-acomplished flirt, and the skills are coming back after their long and dusty storage, but still ... "Make yourself comfortable."

I walk up on the stage and stalk over to the DJ. "Hey, could you put on Hear Me for me?" He gives the equipment he's fiddling on a weird look without even looking up. "Sure. Kelly Clarkson, right?"

So I know the rest of the audience will be laughing. It's hardly a get-down-and-dirty song, but I danced a ruitine to it long ago and at this point familiarity is a must. "Right."

I walk down the steps this time, trying to be a little more ladylike than before. Why do I want to impress this guy so much?

Maybe I have pheromones after all. Or perhaps I'm just a horny eighteen-year old. Take your pick.

He's waiting for me when I get back, although I notice a few girls giving him the once over. I give them Kitty's patented, 'Back off, tonight this one is mine' stare she taught me.

The music stops for split second, and the DJ rifles through a dusty drawer. I don't think Kelly Clarkson is in much demand at this place.

"Follow me." I give Warren a bit of a flirty look aimed somewhere around his adam's apple and start to walk through the crowd. Hmmm, could use Logan right now, that guy is an excellent crowd splitter.

Warren manages to follow my twisting path through the crowd to a dark corner. I turn around when we arrive in the only empty space on the floor to see Blondy sizing me up.

"Just stand still." That surprised him, I can tell even with my shields back up. I must be getting better at this reading body language stuff. I turn my back to him and roll up the cuffs of my baggy jeans. The thin leather slippers I am currently wearing are perfect for this ruitine. Standing there, the silence in the room as the DJ finally starts the song is precious to me. It gives me the chance to control my emotions, gather my energy. I am dancing for him. The rest of the crowd doesn't exist as I turn and look straight into his eyes.

For the first few moments of the dance the movements are slow and deliberate, not to mention easy on my slightly out-of-shape dancing legs. I wait for the strain of melody to start that signals...

There it is.

I whirl on one foot. This was the part of ballet dancing my Da never liked. Said it looked like classy pole dancing without a pole.

In other words, my seductress mask is on.

My partner for this dance originally was Mark. Dear Mark, my poor baby brother...

Don't think about it.

Warren turns as I glide behind him. "Stand still," I hiss in his ear as I lean in to breath on the back of his neck, "It's part of the dance."

He stands, and I close my eyes to a mere slit. All that matters is the small space on the floor and the blond man frozen in the middle. My goal is to taunt him and to flaunt myself.

Dearest Jubilee, those were some strong whatevers you fed me.

Once again I am the wild child of Miss Bourkes' ballet class. I flirt with the floor, the dance, and him. I exist to be watched, admired. The air is moved by the leaps and delicate turns of my slight body slicing through it. I am free to be Path, not quiet and contained, and not the dependable Tris. My identity is fused with the music, and I am only alive to keep that fusion pounding.

The dance ends with a finale where I slowly lower myself, inch by tantalizing inch, to the floor. I rest with my head there between my knees, hands splayed to support my weight, and catch my breath. God, it feels so good to do that again. I can forget how not beautiful I am when I dance.

Well, I hope he liked it.

I stand, stretching the long-unused muscles. Warren is staring at me as I maintain my gaze somewhere next to his left ear. "Sorry, I'm a bit out of practice. It's been a long time."

"If that was you out of practice, I want to see you in practice sometime."

I want to look into his blue eyes, but don't want to scare him off. I bite my lip and look away. "Well, it isn't exactly the most popular music around here. It's just how I know to dance."

"You said you knew formal?" He's moving closer. I haven't felt this attracted to any male since...

Scratch that. I haven't ever been this attracted to anyone, not on such short notice.

Just then the last person I wanted to see showed up. The floor rocked slightly as his tall form bulldozed its' way straight through the crowds towards us.

Piotr.

"Jubilee said you were with the blond." He glares at Angel.

I know I shouldn't be scared, not in this packed room, but I still instinctively edge a little to my right so Warren is between us. I hear a rustle as he turns his head slightly to watch me.

"Go away Piotr. I don't want to talk to you." I mutter, hoping against hope that the alcohol smell isn't coming from him. The last time he got drunk was the night before he left the mansion, the night he...

I'm not going to think about that.

As you can see, most of my thoughts are spent in avoiding other thoughts.

"I need to talk to you. Alone. I want to apologize..."

"Apologize with a note or something. I don't want to talk to you." Warren is still watching me rather than Piotr, hardly a smart move on his part. Piotr might not be the smartest piece of organic metal, but he is the fastest I've ever seen.

"I need to talk to you. I promise, nothing will happen." His russian accent is becoming almost noticable, which I know means he is getting angrier. I used to think it was cute...

Not after three months ago, when he came back to the mansion drunk and threw me across the room for the last time. Everyone used to believe him when he said my injuries were training accidents. I never contradicted him, so nobody had reason to think otherwise until he finally crossed the line and slapped Kitty in front of the entire team when she asked him to pass the sugar. Xavier kicked him out the next morning.

I can't believe Jubes told him where I was, not after I told the whole mansion what had really been going on. Did she think I was kidding? Maybe I should have poloroids of my broken nose x-rays circulated, if that's what it takes!

Piotr moves forward and I cringe, again instinctively. Warren moves every so slightly to the side, hiding me even more from view. I feel a sense of overwhelming relief. Piotr can be indimidating - I of all people know that! - and I was afraid that Warren would do the smart thing, and get the hell out of the way. Piotr seemed to take this movement as a direct threat of severing him from his property - namely, me.

"Look, my girlfriend and I need to talk. You mind getting out of the way?"

Warren was still watching me. I threw caution to the winds. I wouldn't let this gorgeous guy get hurt, just because of me. I tried a telepathic communication.

Huh. The man has shields like Hoover Dam. Even I can't get past them. Well, I can protect myself and him if I have to.

So why haven't I? Well, I was in love with Piotr for a long time. Love makes you do strange things, like not slam your boyfriend up against the wall using telekenesis because he abuses you.

But that's over now. Just like Warren and I are going to be over as soon as he makes the connection that I'm a mutant. Not that we ever really started.

Warren didn't even flinch at the message. "I don't think your girlfriend is interested in going anywwhere with you right now, Mr. ...?"

"Piotr. No Mister about it."

I hear the dinstinctive sound that still raises the hair on my neck - Colosus is emerging with the crinkle of metal foil being laid down on his body in layers.

I grab Warren's hand. "Let's go." To my surprise, he neither throws my hand from his or even flinches from contact with a mutant. On the contrary, he wraps his larger palm tightly around mine, and laces our fingers. "Anything you want." He is still ignoring Piotr. I lead him from the dance floor, scoop up the jacket on the way out, and walk out to where Jubes and I left the car.

Crap!!

Jubes and the car are nowhere in sight. She has done this once before - she meets a cute guy, takes him to some deserted spot, and proceeds to have a fun time while I sit waiting outside a bar for her return.

"Uhhh... my friend took off with the car."

He is still watching me. I try to avoid contact with those pale blue orbs. "Some friend."

I get defensive, even though I'm about ready to rip Jubilation Lee's little heart out myself. "Sometimes she just gets carried away." Leaving the sentance their to dangle for his chosen interpretation, I look wildly around for a cab, heck I'm desperate enough to steal a motercycle by now.

"I could take you home." I realize I'm still holding his hand. I try to disengage, but his isn't letting me off so fast. "Why didn't you say you were a mutant?"

I feel like I'm five again, getting into trouble for making up a stories. Hanging my head and still trying to avoid eye contact I mumber a reply. "Because I wanted you to dance with me. And I knew you wouldn't if you thought I was a mutant."

"What made you think that? Not that I ended up dancing much anyway." I look up, it's dark enough to do that without him seeing my pupils. His eyes laugh at me.

I manage to let out a short and reluctant giggle. "Sorry about that. I learned to dance a long time ago, so that was just a ruitine I could remember." Wait; he would have danced even if he thought I was a mutant?

"Do you need a ride?" He is watching me again, and this time the fear and uncertainty are in his expression.

I look around. Well, at least I know this guy, and it's not like I can't protect myself even without mutations. Logan saw to that!

The thought makes me smile; just a little flicker I allow myself knowing he can't see it. "Sure, why not." But I'll make sure you drop me off before we get to the mansion. You might be able to handle me, but I doubt you can handle the self-appointed watchmen Wolverine and Beast"Where's your car?" I look around, then back to him. His expression is sheepish.

"Actually, I don't have a car."

I groan. "Don't tell me you have a motorcycle." A small grin graces his mobile lips. I feel a sudden urge to kiss them.

Wow. Wow wow wow. Down girl.

"Um, well, actually I flew." Now he looks concerned again. "You are a mutant, right?"

Now I'm nervous too. Is it possible, could Warren actually be...

Naaaaaw. That would be such good luck, it couldn't possibly happen to me.

"Yup. Level 4 telepath and touch empath." I neglect to mention my most dangrous and useful mutation, telekinesis, purposely. No need to throw away my main defense.

He raised an eyebrow. "Then you won't mind if I ... ah ... fly you home?"

Does he mean what I think he means? "Are you a mutant?"

He's avoiding my gaze. "I, I, um, have wings."

A feeling of relief soothes my nervousness. If he has wings (which certainly wouldn't bother me. I mean those bat/dragon wings Diane has are awesome) he can't be weird about slitted pupils and pointed ears.

Halleloua, Praise the Lord, Amen, and may all God's little children stay away from this one 'cause he's mine.

I shrug. "So?"

His look is incredulous with a tinge of hope I can feel through the hand still clutching mine.

"But..."

"But?" he repeats, the tinge of hope leaking away.

"But I'm afraid of heights."

"Oh. You could not look."

I shake my head. "No, I'll just call for a ride. My place isn't that far from here. I'll be okay." I look down at our still entertwined fingers. He follows my gaze and instantly drops my hand. I look back up into his blue eyes. "Thank you for that. With Piotr I mean. I'll be okay."

He eyes bore into mine. "Okay?"

"Okay." I'm beginnning to feel like there's an echo in here. I suddenly feel daring. "Look, you want to come back with me? I live at a school for people like us."

"Xavier's?"

I nod, unsuprised that he has heard of the professor. "Yeah."

He looks sheepish. "I would like to, but I, ah, can't really ride in a car..." My shrug interupts him.

"So fly."

His gaze is disconcerting. "Um - I need someone to unhook the harness for me."

"Sure, 'kay."

He leads us around the back of the building into an alley. He starts to unbutton the coat in the dark. After watching him fumble for several minutes with the first button using limited human eyesight, I sigh and start at the bottom, meeting him still struggling with the second fastener. I push his hands away and finish the job. He shrugs out of it. Without clothing on underneath, I allow myself the brief pleasure of seeing his excellent and developed physique, a pair of black straps the only thing marring my view. Hmm... fuzz-free type, unlike Piotr. I swear, you could have probably made a carpet from his chest hair.

Warren turns around and I nearly scream with delight at the sight that greets me.

Large white feathers, the wings of an angel, are strapped down tightly to his back. With nothing like the Gothic look of Diane, the soft downy feathers strain against their harness. His shoulders are irritated and red where the straps chafe them. I take care of that in no time, and as he stretched the wings out I can see tense shoulder muscles relaxing in relief.

"Doesn't it hurt, having them strapped down like that?"

He turns to face me, the wings tucked neatly back. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

I blink in shock. No choice? Then, remembering my attempts to appear "normal" to this same man not so long ago, I begin to understand. My physical mutations are nothing compared to his, and I still tried to avoid looking in his eyes or disturbing the hair over my ears.

"You have a choice. That was your choice." I vaguely indicate the harness and coat he is holding against his chest.

He tilts his head, his eyes gone dark with thought. "I suppose I did, didn't I." He spreads the wings again, and I can't help but admire them, the soft white feathers cupping the night air as he tilts them this way and that, finally cracking his neck resoundingly. The white feathers brush the alley walls, and he hasn't even fully extended them yet.

"I'll call a cab. You can't really miss it, it's the giant mansion down that road," I point eastward, "just after the turnoff to the highway. You probably want to wait for me at the gates."

He nods, and walks out into the partking lot. Then, with a great updraft of air, he pushes strongly off the ground. His wings snap out and start a down sweep, and then he's gone over the building.

Better go call a cab.