Prologue
The rain mists the quiet grounds outside the Xavier Institute for the Gifted. She stares placidly out the window, eyeing her reflection with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. The coffee cup she holds in glove concealed hands steams softly, fogging the glass pane in front of her. She turns back to the man sitting expectantly beside the fire. Even in a wheel chair, Professor Charles Xavier is the most imposing yet at the same time gentlest figure she has ever met. Like the stern father that can't help but spoil his children. He has always been there for her, just as he is trying to be there for her now. Wearily, she sits across from him, setting down her cup and reaching for her hair in nervous habit. She pauses when her fingers close on empty air. She wonders vaguely if she will ever get used to the chin length cut of her soft blonde hair. Of course, it's not really blonde any more. Instead it is dark, almost black, and what was once dominantly blonde has faded into muted highlights. She sighs and instead, draws her hand roughly over the black, cotton sleeves of her turtle neck, as though to chafe away cold she doesn't feel.

"Are you ready Melanie?" Xavier asks. She sighs again and nods. "You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I certainly won't make you."

"No." Her voice is quieter and hoarser than she intended. She clears her throat and tries again. She clears her throat and tries again. "No. I'm ready."

He nods slowly and closes his eyes before placing withered hands on her skull. A bright light whips across her vision and the room, the cold rainy day, and the present moment at the Xavier Institute melts away.