X-23 was embarrassed.

She didn't know why, but it annoyed her deeply to think of herself as a crying child. None of the other mutants cried, at least as far as she could see. They groaned and sighed and did all manner of things that confused her, but they didn't cry. The Professor seemed to take her tears well, but still, a lifetime of being glared at and told not to act so emotional had hardwired X-23 to be ashamed of any display of emotion. She'd just thrown herself at someone she barely knew and sobbed.

It was hard, reeling herself in. After years of being emotionless and reigning in every last stray thought, she'd snapped. After snapping, all control was gone. She didn't know how to act normal like the others. She just was, in a way that was pure and unfiltered. Screaming, fighting everything and nothing, angry. Tearful, wishing her life hadn't been hers. The two attitudes came out of her uncontrollably, as natural as breathing after so long living like a machine. Wolverine understood her struggle from within, and he had told her it'd help to beat something up once in a while. Something besides herself.

But all roads led back to beating up on herself. She didn't even know when it had all started or how she'd ever gotten the idea in her head. All her life, even before her claws, she'd scratched at herself. Alone, trapped away from anyone and everyone else, she had been desperate for any kind of feeling. She remembered being told not to once, until her healing factor began to kick in. Then they'd let her go for it. With her healing factor, there was no injury that ever required medical attention, though secretly she wished it did so someone would act like she mattered. The fact was, however, that she hadn't ever been treated like she mattered. No one had cared about her enough to try to stop her, and certainly no one had ever cared about her enough to hold her.

She smiled faintly to herself. Even on that night, having snapped so hard she could barely think, Charles Xavier had felt sympathy for her. Her mind was a hurricane at that point, of hate, anger, pain, envy so sharp it hurt and desperation so deep it was better than adrenaline. She had collapsed, cried, lost it if only for a few moments. Everything was chaos within her. And he, in spite of her being an intruder in his home, had felt for her. He sensed her inner struggle, though her thoughts were too jumbled for him to understand it.

And now, months later, he had accepted her back into his home. No questions asked, no second thoughts, no background or motivation check. Just a room for her, some clothes that the other girls had given up, and dinner. Her father was relieved to have her back – he stopped to look in on her once every night, though he thought she couldn't tell. Ororo was relieved she was alright, and the easiest person to talk to at first. It was the Professor, though, who had talked to her for long hours about her life before. X-23 couldn't tell Logan, because he got enraged at what had happened (truthfully he frightens her somedays). Ororo would be too horrified to listen. Charles Xavier would merely listen for as long as X-23 was willing to speak. He was quietly disturbed at what had happened, but he never pitied her. He was wary of her powers and screaming tantrums, but he was never afraid of her. He was loving towards her, but never condescending. He let her into his house and his life unhesitatingly.

Was this what normal life was supposed to be? Was this love? X-23 had asked Ororo for the definition of love, only to be given a horribly confusing answer. Love could be many things. There were many kinds that all fell under the same one word definition. The girl had groaned and rubbed her head, annoyed. She was having such a hard time following the explanation that Ororo rephrased it.

"Love is when someone does things for you, to make you happy, and doesn't expect anything in return." She'd explained gently. "They care about you. When you're upset, they're upset. When you're happy, they're happy. Do you understand?"

And she did, sort of. If that was love then Charles Xavier loved everyone in the house. What she did not understand was the way love worked. The others did not return the sentiment towards him somedays, the way they grumbled about even the most logical and practical rules the Professor imposed. They complained about it even when, through the utterly unclouded eyes of X-23, it all made sense. She supposed it was a normal kid thing, something she hadn't gotten yet. One day maybe she would grumble right along with them all, ignoring the huge difference he'd made in her life. She doubted it, though. There was no way she would ever be anything but awed by the Professor, by the way he took her flaws in stride and never dealt anyone a harsh word, let alone a blow.

X-23 was unsure as to whether or not she was in love. There seemed to be a difference, she was told, between feeling it and being in it. What that difference was, she wasn't sure. When Lance broke up with Kitty, he told her he loved her but wasn't in love with her. X-23 failed to see a difference. They both seemed to care about each other. Somehow there was some difference between their feelings? Then why would they act the same? Dear lord, she just couldn't get this concept. It made no logical sense, had no practical line of thought to it. Was this something a normal teen would have understood? She tried to take everyone's different answers and behaviors about the subject and figure out what applied to her.

She wanted Charles to be happy, of course. After all he'd done for her she was on call for anything he could dream of. If he'd told her to kill, she would, and if he told her to live, she would. He wanted her to be happy, so he had thus far demanded nothing other than basic good behavior from her. Hmm, dead end on that. Did he expect anything in return for making her happy? Not that she could see. Did she expect anything from him? Merely an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry hysterically onto. (Once. She would never let that happen again, she told herself firmly.) When she was happy, he was happy, because it meant that she was making progress. When he was happy, it usually meant she'd done or said something sane and normal for once. When she was upset…

Even when he didn't know her name, he was concerned for her. Even after she'd trashed a room for no reason, he worried over her. He loved her, didn't he? Already. She hadn't even done anything to earn it, and he loved her. Although she'd never seen him upset, X-23 tried to envision it. She pictured what it would feel like it someone hurt him. Her claws sprung forth in an instant, instinctually. If he was upset, if he cried? She could feel her stomach twist, though her emotionally stunted mind didn't comprehend what it meant. Was that nagging feeling, the worry she wouldn't know what to do – was that love?

It was, she decided. She had to wonder, however, why she didn't act the way the others did in love. Jean, Kitty, Rogue, even Scott sometimes blushed around their various love interests or even just plain attractive people. X-23 put a hand to her face, frowning. It didn't emit the heat the others faces did. The other stammered sometimes around one another, but the rate of it went way up around those they were attracted to. Well, X-23 knew why she didn't do that. The habit had been quite literally beaten out of her a long time ago. She certainly never giggled like the girls did, even in private. There had never been anything to giggle about as a kid. X-23 frowned to herself. She wasn't very good at this love thing.

There had to be something she could do as far as this went. She couldn't mimic those behaviors, because she was too new to life outside of work, but there had to be something. The best way to go about this, she decided, was to study love. Sitting down in the living room one day when the others were at school, she watched several varying shows on the subject. Most, thankfully, centered around what the woman should do, which was good since X-23 didn't even know where to start. The women on TV echoed what Ororo had said: listen to them, care about them, make them happy. Frustrated after three hours of television, she flicked it off and groaned. So much for her research. Ororo had said in a minute what these people took hours to get across. The only new thing she'd been told was to do something for him to make him happy. X-23 was at a loss there, as she had no money, no clue as to how to decide on a gift, and no means of transportation. She put her hands in her head, convinced that she had failed, right up until she heard a creaking noise.

Operating on sheer instinct, she pounced, and slammed into some kind of blur. That blur turned out to be Pietro, and Pietro turned out to be very cooperative when put in a headlock with claws held up to his neck. Half dragging, half walking with him, she found the Professor and her father talking about feeling that there was an intruder, and coughed pointedly.

And so, without a hint of embarrassment, X-23 learned to give.