I hear the footsteps behind me and instantly snap awake. There should be no-one here. For three months now I've been hiding out here and never seen another person. I force myself to stand in the cool morning air and start moving. I can hear the footsteps more distinctly now, as well as voices. I think there's about six of them, heading towards me, slowly getting faster. I break into a run, my legs moving without any conscious thought. I shove through the bushes and my jacket snags on the thorns of one, just about ripping in two, but I leave it behind. It's not important now. What is important is not letting them find me. My feet pound against the hard-packed dirt, stones skittering under my feet, and I keep pushing on, even when a decent sized branch painfully hits my collarbone. I hear my heart beating fast in my ears, the stabbing ache in my chest rips through my body, but I keep going. I start heading down a slope that gradually gets steeper, and I pick up speed. I skirt past trees and boulders that are in my way, until I trip on an exposed tree root that I can't dodge fast enough. I go tumbling down the hill, my exposed skin getting scratched in the undergrowth, thorns tearing more holes in my already tattered clothes. My upper back slams into a tree trunk and pushes the air out of my lungs and my head whips back and hits the trunk with a dull thud, and I lie there coughing for a moment before I struggle to my feet and stumble on. I go a few metres before crumpling to the ground, my stomach protesting against my activity without food, and even though I try to keep it down, I still end up vomiting bile, since there's nothing in my stomach. I ignore the throbbing pain in my head and continue, but know my best hope is to hide. The voices are much closer, the footsteps much faster, but here, there is no place to hide. I see shadows darting through the trees, then can only watch as six people dressed in blue and gold bodysuits emerge from the bush and slowly advance on me. I step back until I feel a solid rock wall behind me and sigh. I've run so many times before, but never have I been caught. Normally I'm so much better than this, better than those who thought they could catch me. But this time it just wasn't good enough. They're in a loose V formation pointing towards me, and keep advancing on me, even though I now have nowhere to go.
The man in front is huge, with what look like metal claws protruding from his closed fists. The woman standing beside him, but still just behind him, is dark-skinned, with spiky black and white hair. There are two young men behind them, one even bigger than the man in front, and his body appears to be made entirely of metal. The other man looks normal, but as I look at him more closely, his hands look a pale blue colour and seem to be steaming even though the air is so cold. At the back are two women, one quite short and young with plain brown hair, nothing too special looking about her, and the other is taller and older, again with brown hair, but with a bright white streak in the front of her hair.
"Who are you?" I ask, my voice and body shaking in fear.
"We're here to help you," the dark-skinned woman says, stepping out from behind the man with claws.
"That doesn't answer my question," I counter. "Who are you and what do you want with me?"
"We're the X-Men, and we just wanna help you, kid," the man with claws says in a deep voice, stepping out in front again.
"How can you help me?" I ask, wondering if they can actually help me.
"Well you gotta tell us your name, kid," the clawed man says.
"Well what's yours?" I ask, trying to put off the inevitable.
"I'm Logan," he says simply. "And now that I've told you mine, what's your name?"
I sigh softly. I've been dreading revealing my identity to someone for months now, but it looks like I'm just going to have to tell them now. "My name is Darcy O'Hara."
"How old are you, Darcy?" Logan asks.
"I'm fourteen," I say quietly. My eyes dart between each of them, noticing every movement they make, no matter how small.
"Why are you out here?" the dark-skinned woman says.
"Tell me who you are and I might tell you," I reply, looking down at my feet.
"I'm Storm," she says kindly, taking a step towards me. I don't move until she's a few steps away from me, and she extends a hand.
"Don't touch me," I say softly. "You'll only get hurt."
"And you don't want to hurt us?" Storm asks me quizzically.
"I don't need any more blood on my hands," I say darkly, looking up to meet my eyes with hers. She doesn't question it, but does take a step back.
"Do you want to come with us?" she asks after surveying me for a moment.
"Where are you going to take me?" I ask hesitantly.
"Somewhere you can be safe," Storm says. "Somewhere for people like us."
"So you're all-"
"Mutants, yeah," Logan says gruffly. "Look, kid, we can't tell you what to do, but we can tell you what you should do. And if you know what'll be good for you, then you'll come with us, and we'll help you."
"Help me what? What can you do to help me?" I ask.
"Learn to control it," Storm says. "We just want to help you, that's all. We don't want to force you into anything, but you'll be better off with us. Please, just let us help you."
I hesitate before answering. "So if I go with you, then you'll help me learn to control this, and you won't hurt me?"
"That's exactly right," Storm says kindly. "So are you going to come with us?"
I slowly nod, and take a step towards Storm. I shiver, and realise that just standing here in the chilly morning air, without my jacket, was probably not the best idea, and the hair on my arms is standing up on end in protest.
"Are you cold?" Storm asks, appearing genuinely concerned.
"A little," I say. "I'll be right."
"Don't you have a jacket?" she asks.
"I did, but I lost it when I was running before," I admit. "Like I said, I'll be fine."
The four people at the back turn and head off, and Logan follows. Storm walks with me, never taking her piercing blue-grey eyes off me, but it doesn't look like she's making sure I don't do anything stupid, just watching to see if I'm alright. After about ten minutes if solid walking in silence we reach a lethal looking black jet which must be our destination. A door drops down and we walk in, me last in line. I look around as I walk in, and Storm guides me to a seat. Before I sit down, I hear someone come up behind me, and I spin around to see the girl with the white streak in her hair. She has something held out to me and I take it, and see that it's a rough jacket and a pair of thin black gloves.
"Here," she says in a low voice, "you'll need them." She doesn't quite look at me as she speaks, and doesn't sit near me, either.
"Thankyou," I say to her quietly as she walks away. She turns back for a second and gives me a small nod of acknowledgement, but doesn't smile. I sit down and look around as we take off, but fall asleep a few minutes later.
When I wake, I'm in a blank looking room, and in a hospital bed, hooked up to various machines with their dull hum filling the room, along with the unnaturally clean hospital smell. I hear the clacking of high heels echoing through the sterile room. I see a face out of the corner of my eye and slowly turn my head to look, wincing as my neck cracks from the movement. The person moves closer, and I see that it's a young woman, maybe 20 or so, with kind eyes and dark auburn hair.
"Darcy?" she asks me, looking over a file. Her voice is soft and gentle, but she doesn't get too close to me, but her hazel eyes scan my body.
"Yes," I say in a croaky voice.
She gives me a smile, and continues forwards until she's right beside my bed. She sits on the wheeled stool beside me and sets the file down on my bedside table. She turns to me and locks eyes with me, but I look away after a few seconds.
"Darcy O'Hara, that's your name?" she asks. I nod in reply, and she rests a warm, gloved hand on my arm. I initially flinch, but relax when all she does is gently rub my upper arm soothingly. "My name is Dr Laura Gardner, but you can just call me Laura, OK?" I nod slowly, but that's all the recognition she needs. "You're fourteen, aren't you?" I nod again. "Darcy, I need to ask you some questions, if that's alright with you," she says, picking up the file again.
"Ask away," I say with a weak smile. She seems nice, and genuinely helpful, so I'm not worried.
"Thankyou. So, Darcy, how long were you living out there?"
"You mean in the bush?" I ask. She nods in reply. "About three months."
"When was the last time you ate? You're pretty thin."
I shrug slightly, my shoulders sore. "I dunno, probably about a week ago. I never really had much to eat at all though."
She quickly writes it down, and then turns back to me. "Do you have any pre-existing medical conditions or allergies? Any injuries we should know about?"
"No injuries or allergies, but I am asthmatic."
"Really badly or…?"
"No, not too bad; I never really used my puffer, except if I was doing a lot of sport."
"OK, we still need to get you one just in case. Do you mind if I run a few tests on you?"
"As long as you don't hurt me," I say.
"Darcy, hurting you is the last thing I want to do."
"I don't want to hurt you, either," I say, a bit louder this time.
"You won't, I'll make sure. Did you sleep well? I didn't want to wake you."
"Thanks, I haven't slept this well in months."
"So Darcy, before we begin, what exactly is your mutation, or, at least, what you know of it?"
"From what I can tell, I have a kind of electrical charge on my skin, and anybody who touches my skin gets an electric shock. I don't know much more than that though; I just kind of left before anything else happened."
"So why exactly were you living out there?" she asks, putting down the file again, focussing all her attention on me. We lock eyes again, but this time I don't look away.
"I killed my baby sister."