Kathleen "Kitty" Pryde always knew she was different. Like the time when she was six and she spilled a bunch of plates at Thanksgiving, but she hadn't dropped them. Or when she was eight and she ran through a forest running home. But she really didn't have to account for those differences until she was thirteen.

Her cousins avoided her, Kitty knew this. She just didn't care. And to show how much she honestly didn't care about her cousins shunning her she almost refused to go to the family cookout. But her mom insisted it was her birthday, and therefore she was the guest of honor. After much hesitation and many complaints, Kitty was in the back of their Black SUV and happily driving to her aunt's.

Later she would find out that it was a drunk driver, celebrating the fourth of July early. He had ran through a red light and smashed his truck into their car, right in front of their families horrified faces.

Kitty just remembered the screaming. It wasn't even someone else's screaming, because her family was stock still, her parents had died on impact. Kitty should have too, but screaming still pierced her ears, so she figured she must be alive. But it sounded so close. And then she realized she was screaming. Because she wasn't in the car…

Her uncle Pete had always been her favorite uncle in the world. But now his bright blue eyes stared from his brother's mangled body to his niece that he had seen pass through the back of the car. He watched as she sat trembling in the middle of the road as the ran began to fall first lightly and then harder, pouring water down. And then his own daughter, who had never liked Kitty, lifted a shaking finger to point at the scared teen and whispered,

"Freak." then she shouted, her hand steady and accusing, "FREAK! FREAK! SHE'S A FREAK!"

Kitty looked up at her cousin with wide brown eyes filled with tears.

'I'm not!' she wanted to shout, 'I'm not, I swear!' but no words came. It was like her body had frozen the minute she had passed through the back of her car without a scratch. She looked down like her body wasn't even a part of herself. It couldn't be, because her body had never acted like this.

But it had. She knew it had and it was why she was avoided. She was. She was a freak. A freak of nature…the word took a minute to settle in…a mutant.

She didn't think. Didn't stop to think. She just got up and ran as her family cried and screamed, shouting curses after her. They were screaming curses and insults, calling her all the words she had been thinking.

She must have run for hours without even stopping. By the time she had stopped she couldn't even keep herself up, her legs would no longer support her and she collapsed to the ground, trembling. She clutched at her arms, rocking back and forth with her sobs. She was alone. An orphan. A stranger inside her own life. She didn't belong anymore and no one cared…

"But you're wrong."

She looked up through her tears. A shiny silver wheel sat in the mud, level with her eyes, as nonchalant as if it belonged there, or at least had been there a while. She must have looked a mess: knees in mud, clothes soaked, hair matted and sticking to her face, tears tracking down her cheeks. But she didn't care.

"You're wrong, Kitty," the voice said again. She looked up into the very kind face a man with a bald head and a nice smile. He was the man in the wheelchair and he put his hand on her matted hair, smoothing back her curls. "You're so wrong. You do belong, with us. And people care, Kitty. I care."

It was an island in a raging sea. Seeing the man in dark glasses, the woman with red hair, the other woman whose eyes went white as the rain stopped falling, all of them smiling at her. And she believed him.

"Welcome Home, Shadowcat."