A/N: Ok, now I'm really getting annoyed. I've only gotten 2 reviews, and they're from the same person! Is there anyone out there reading this!? Please let me know. At this point I don't care if you love it or hate it, I just want some feed back. I'll even accept flames right now. Anyway, back to the story. There's a bit of a time gap between this chapter and the previous one (it was unavoidable). I don't actually know how Ororo met Prof. X, so a lot of this will probably be AU.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own.

Chapter 4

Nine-year old Ororo ran through the crowded streets of Cairo, her bare feet seeming to glide over the packed dirt with an almost inhuman grace. Her breath came in measured gasps as she plunged deeper into the bowels of the city, and every so often she would look over her shoulder for the pursuing police officers. Such pursuits were familiar to the young pickpocket, ever since old Rasha had passed away; situations like this had been the norm. Ororo felt her eyes fill up with tears at the thought of the old woman who had raised her for the first five years of life. Rasha had been the closest thing to a mother that Ororo had ever had. Not only had Rasha given her food and shelter, she had taught the young girl how to survive on the streets, where the best places to bed down for the night were, the places to avoid, how to make enough money for the things they needed, and how to steal the things they couldn't afford. Those early years had been the best of Ororo's life, not because she had had more food or material comforts, she hadn't, but because she had had a friend, a mentor who loved and understood her. Ever since the old woman had succumbed to the strange rasping cough she had suffered for weeks before her demise, Ororo had been alone. She remembered that day vividly. Rasha had been getting sicker for some time, every day it seemed to take a little more effort for the old woman to rise in the morning, every day her already thin frame seemed to dwindle. By the end, Ororo had been more taking care of Rasha than the other way around. It had been about noon and Ororo had been out in the market all morning, trying to filch some food for herself and the poor ailing woman. The take had actually been fairly decent that day. The market had been busier than usual and with the sheer number of customers it had been easy for the diminutive thief to sneak in unnoticed and sneak out with a loaf of bread. There had even been some fresh fruit, including Rasha's favorite, apples. Pleased with her haul, Ororo threw back the flap of the little shack she had erected once it became clear that Rasha was too sick to move.

"Rasha, you'll never guess what I found in the market today."

She looked over to the heap of rags that served as the old woman's bed, noticing for the first time how abnormally still she was lying. "Rasha?"

The little girl ran over to her mentor's side, feeling desperately for a pulse, but the effort was wasted; Rasha was gone and had been for hours if the stiffness of her body was any indication. Ororo didn't scream though, or cry Rasha's name, or fall down beating her hands against the floor, her grief was beyond that. She just sat there, crying softly. Outside, storm clouds gathered in the previously cloudless sky as if summoned. Lightning flashed and rain began to rain in torrents that would be more suited for a rainforest than a desert. The storm lasted all that day and throughout the night. Even after it ended, the next week was unseasonably cold, some nights coming below freezing, and for that entire week, no one saw the sun. Local meteorologists were at a total lack, but Storm knew. Rasha had always told her that she was special, sent by the God's themselves, but she had never felt or done anything the least bit unusual save her slightly pointed ears. Until Rasha died that is, after that the power was always there, waiting just under the surface so that she wondered how she had never noticed it before. She would have traded all that power in a minute though, if it meant that Rasha were still there.

Tears flowed freely now down her cheeks as she ran, reducing the street around her to a multicolored blur. With her vision so impaired and her mind focused in the past instead of where she was going, she hardly recognized that there was an obstacle in front of her before she hit a wall of flesh and fell back onto the street. Wiping her eyes, she looked up at said "wall of flesh", also known as a middle-aged man with a baldhead and piercing, intelligent eyes. Just then, the police officers who had been chasing her broke through the crowd.

"There you are you little rat! This'll be the last time I'm chasin' you through the streets. I've got you now!"

Ororo's eyes filled with fear. She had been stealing food for her entire life, but she had only been stupid enough to get caught twice. In Cairo, justice was run on a three-strike system as far as petty crime was concerned. This was her third strike, if she didn't find a way to escape, she would loose a hand. She began to struggle fiercely against the grip of the officers, to do avail. Desperately, she called upon her powers. Her eyes shone a pure white while the wind began to whip around her. Before she could build it up to hurricane force though, thus giving her an opportunity to escape, her captor's rough handling broke her fragile concentration. The wind died down to normal immediately. The officers continued to drag her down the street without a second thought to the odd phenomena. After all, there were always strange drafts and breezes through the narrow streets of Cairo. Fortunately for Ororo, there was one in that street who recognized power when he saw it.

"Wait," the man who she ran into cried suddenly. "Where are you taking her?"

"Who, this little rat?" One officer laughed, looking back. "She's a thief, we got a lot like her around here. We're takin' her to the jail, where scum like her belong."

"I see," replied the man. "As much I usually avoid interfering in the law, I have to wonder, what would it take to erase her previous indiscretions?"

"Huh?" The Cairo police force obviously didn't hire on basis of intelligence.

The man sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "How much must I pay in exchange for her freedom?" He rephrased patiently.

The officers gaped at him. "You want to pay for her sir? She's nothing but a petty thief!"

"Never the less, it's my money and I will decide how I wish it spent. Now, how much?"

The officers looked at each other. One stroked his chin. "Well now, that depends. Goodness knows she ain't worth a lot, on the other hand, we sure aren't supposed to take bribes."

He looked at the man expectantly. The man just sighed again, and then reached into his shirt pocket ("Smart," thought Ororo. "Harder to steal.") And retrieved his wallet. "Would $75 American do it?"

The Officer's eyes lit up. "Why sir, I think it would." He looked down at the girl he was restraining. "Looks like it's your lucky day rat. But if I catch you down here again, I'll take the hand off myself."

"I'll keep that in mind." Snapped Ororo, snatching her arms out of their grip.

The policemen glared at her the entire time while they got their money and left. Then it was only Ororo and the strange man who had just saved her. For a moment they simply regarded each other, then the man broke the silence. "I suppose I should introduce myself, my name is Professor Charles Xavier."

Ororo just looked at him, absorbing the information. "Why did you help me?" She finally asked.

Professor Xavier's lip twitched in amusement. "Now, that is the question I hoped you would ask, and the answer's really quite simple. Those of us who are, unique shall we say, must stick together."

Ororo's back straightened involuntarily. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Xavier laughed, "Truly? Do you not think I know power when I see it? You have no need to fear me, if I wanted you hurt I would've let the police take you." The little thief could hardly argue with that reasoning. "You are a mutant, like me, most likely with powers effecting your environment from what I saw." He looked away for a moment as if he were seeing more than just the world around him. "Weather hmmm? You're a very talented person."

If possible, Ororo's back got straighter. "Get out of my head." She whispered, having already figured out that he was a telepath.

"My apologies." He said, genuinely sounding contrite. "I didn't mean to intrude, but you are a very interesting child, I'm afraid I have a habit of letting my curiosity get the better of me." He gave her an appraising look. "There was more to my aid than simple kindness I'm afraid, but I'm sure you suspected that. The truth is, I have a proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition?" The girl asked.

He smiled. "You live on the street, you've always lived on the street. Your only mentor and parent figure died when you were five. You rarely sleep in the same place and even more rarely come across anything legally. What I am offering will ensure you'll never have to live on the street again." The gaze he rested on Ororo was full of compassion. "Ororo, I run a school in America for people with unique gifts. A place where people such as you or I can have a home among others like us, a place where we can teach you how to control your powers."

"And if I say no?" Ororo asked.

"Then we go our separate ways." The look in eyes said that he didn't want that to happen. "I want to help you, will you let me?"

Ororo felt herself melt under his kind gaze. It had been so long since someone had cared about her, so long since she'd had a family. Besides, realistically, there was nothing for her in Cairo but more of the same life she had led since Rasha's death. The thought of her "mother" was what decided her; Rasha had always wanted more for her than a street life.

She looked up at the Professor and uttered one word. "Ok."

A/N: Wow, this was a hard one to write, it just didn't want to flow. There was actually one point where I looked back and realized I had slipped into 1st person POV, so I had to go back and fix everything. Oh, well, I think it finally turned out well. However, as I've mentioned before, I NEED REVIEWS!!!! If the only feedback I'm going to get is from my family, I might as well just write it and show it to them only. I'm actually getting quite aggravated. I started writing fics to improve myself as an author, not that I'm not enjoying it but I have other things to do! At the risk of me abandoning this story PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!!!!! It takes like 30 seconds! Come on!