As soon as they stepped into his office, The Professor began speaking. "Thank you for rescuing this young lady. Jean is tending to her injuries as we speak. What can you tell me about her?" Scott described the young woman, including her wings. "Thank you, Scott," The Professor said, "It's important that we figure out as much as we can about her." "Why can't you just read her mind?" Logan asked. The Professor sighed and said, "It's not that simple, Logan. I've tried that, but she has more mental barriers than you. Even in her unconscious state, I could only get a flicker of information before I was blocked out completely." "Well, what was it?" Logan asked, "What did you find out?" The Professor smiled. "Her name is Angel, and she loves to fly."
When Angel woke up, there were dry bandages over her eyes. And she had no idea where she was, which scared her to no end. She strained her ears, listening for any sound. The slightly antiseptic smell of a hospital caught in her nostrils sending a brief flash of panic through her. Am I back in his lab? she wondered. Did he catch me? All of a sudden she felt a cool breeze on her face as a door was opened and she sat up. As she did, she realized that her wrists were tied to the bed she was lying on. "Who are you?" she called out, knowing that someone had entered the room. She tried to hide the fear in her voice, but she wasn't sure she succeeded.
It was Logan's turn to check on their "visitor" and he stepped into the exam room. At that moment, the young woman sat up called out "Who are you?" "Hey, just relax," Logan said, stepping closer, "My name is Logan." "Where am I?" she asked, continuing to struggle at the bonds holding her to the bed. "Hey, hey, listen to me," Logan said softly, "Just relax, and I'll tell you everything you want to know. Just take some deep breaths and stop struggling." He extended a claw and cut the cords binding her wrists to the bed, noting the nearly invisible shudder that went through her with the touch of his claw against her skin.
Whoever this man is, Angel thought, He sure has a really nice voice. Calmed by the gentle words of this stranger, Angel took a few deep breaths and said, "Alright Logan, where the hell am I?" "The exam room in the lab at Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters, in upstate New York," was Logan's reply. "'Gifted Youngsters'?" Angel snorted, "How old are you?"
"I'm not a student," Logan replied, a wry grin on his face, "I guess you could say I'm a teacher." Don't ask her about the bandages over her eyes Logan heard the Professor say in his head. I'm on my way down. Logan sat down on the edge of the bed and continued answering Angel's questions.
As Angel listened to Logan, she tried to picture what he looked like. Tall, dark, and handsome? Blonde hair, blue eyes? "Logan," she said suddenly, interrupting him, "Can I see your face?" She heard his hesitation and then added, "I mean with my hands. I'd just like to get a sense of what you look like." Upon hearing no reply, Angel slowly reached her hand out in the direction that Logan's voice had come from. She flinched slightly when his hand brushed against hers as he took her fingers lightly in his and guided them to his cheek. She slowly drew her thumb across his warm cheekbone, and then trailed her fingers across his rough sideburns and along his strong jaw line.
The light touch of Angel's fingers across Logan's face sent shivers snaking through his body and he closed his eyes. As her fingers trailed up from his chin, they traced the edges of his lips. She lifted her other hand and ran both hands over his forehead and eyebrows before tracing a line down the center of his nose. Next, her hands moved to his hair and brushed against his ears, and then followed the soft skin of his neck down to his shoulder, then to his bicep, then to his bare forearm. Angel's fingertips fuzzed against the hair on his arms as she continued her path down along the inside of his wrist and brushing a feathery touch over the palm of his hand. She lifted her hand and felt his collarbone, then felt down his t-shirt clad chest. Logan hoped that his heart wasn't beating too uncontrollably. This strange and mysterious mutant girl was having a strange effect on him.
Angel stopped her wandering hand when she felt Logan's heart beating underneath her fingertips. She could feel the warmth of his skin through his t-shirt and after a few seconds, let her hand run over Logan's strong chest and muscled stomach. Logan cleared his throat and said, "Uhh, Angel," but was interrupted by the mechanical sound of the lab doors sliding open.
Logan stood and turned at the sound of the doors and saw the Professor come in, followed by Scott and Storm. "Logan, who is it?" he heard Angel ask. The Professor merely looked at Logan and rolled right up next to the bed. "Hello, Angel. I am Professor Charles Xavier," he said in his calm voice, "With me are two of my colleagues Ororo Monroe and Scott Summers. I see you've met Logan." "Yes, he was kind enough to tell me where I am, and the basic story of how I got here," Angel replied, "How did you know my name?" "That's not important right now," Charles replied, "What matters is that you aren't harmed from your crash into the west wall. Although I have a few questions for you about your wings, which seem to have vanished."
Angel knew that her face went white at the sound of his words. How could she have trusted these people? They were just mutant haters and tormenters like everyone else she knew. However, these thoughts were quickly banished from her mind when Charles continued, saying, "Angel, we're not going to hurt you; you don't have to worry about being a mutant. We're all mutants here. Even the students." "But...but Logan said this was a school for gifted kids," she said, slightly confused. "These children are gifted," Charles said, a smile in his voice, "They just all happen to be mutants." Welcome Angel Angel jerked her head at those last two words. She somehow knew they weren't said aloud, but projected into her head. "You—you're a telepath!" she exclaimed. "Yes," Charles replied out loud, "And you are too."
The professor motioned everyone else out of the room, but when he saw a flicker of fear cross Angel's face at the retreating footsteps, he mentally asked Logan to stay. The brooding Canadian had apparently formed some kind of bond with this young woman which would probably be useful in keeping her calm. "Alright, Angel," The Professor calmly said as he rolled closer to the bed, "I have a few questions for you. You've obviously been through a traumatic experience, but I need to have some answers. If it helps, its just Logan and me; I've sent everyone else away. Would you be more comfortable with just the two of us?" She shook her head and moved to a sitting position. "No, this is fine," she replied with a half smile as Logan perched on the bed frame next to her. "Your wings," the Professor stated calmly, "Tell us about your wings."
Angel took a deep breath. "Well," she started shakily, "They're 16 feet across from tip to tip and the color changes, depending on what mood I'm in. As you've probably noticed, they can 'appear' or 'disappear' as I wish." She turned around so that her back was towards the two men and her wings began to appear.
Logan watched Angel's wings growing with a small sense of amazement. The tips pushed through her skin and continued to extend. When all 16 feet of her currently pale green feathered wings were extended fully, it was a truly magnificent sight. "You can touch them if you want," she whispered over her shoulder. Logan reached out and traced along the ridgeline of the wing, noticing how soft the shimmery feathers were, yet how strong the structure of the wing felt.
Angel felt Logan's gentle touch and started to draw her wings back in before the color change alerted Logan to her feelings about him. She barely knew him, yet his touch caused her stomach to flutter and his calm, deep voice captivated her.
Charles watched in amazement as Angel's wings simultaneously appeared to slide into her back and shimmer out of existence. He had never seen anything like this before and it was truly beautiful. "What about your eyes?" he asked, knowing it was going to be a difficult question for her to answer, "Did somebody do something to your eyes?" "Yes," Angel replied after a deep breath, "He operated on them and after he bandaged them, he said that I couldn't ever take off the wrappings or open my eyes, or else I would go blind. So I'm not going to. But for the most part, I can use my telepathic powers to sense where things are, so I can get around." "Who operated on them?" Logan asked, raising an eyebrow as Charles glanced at him. "No one in particular," Angel replied, shrugging her indifference, "Just a very bad man who likes to experiment on mutants. Anything else you want to know?" "Is that where you were coming from?" Charles asked, "Were you running away from the people who did this to you?" "I was escaping from captivity," Angel replied, getting slightly agitated, "I didn't particularly want to be locked in a cage anymore, with an evil bastard doing experiments on me, so I buggered out. Anything else?"
"Did you send out a telepathic message just before you crashed?" Logan asked, ignoring another Look from the Professor. "I could tell I was going to hit something," Angel answered, brushing her fingers against the lump on her forehead and wincing, "So I sent out a kind of panic message to anyone who was near. You probably felt that. Do you guys have anything to eat around here?" Angel was obviously finished talking for now. "Logan, will you show Angel around the mansion?" the Professor asked, "I need to finish getting ready for the overnight trip tomorrow." The Professor, Storm, Jean, and Scott were taking all of the kids into Canada for two days, leaving Logan and Kurt behind to keep watch at the mansion. And it looked like Angel was going to be keeping them company, at least for the time being. Not that Logan minded.