A/N: Hey ya'll! Sorry this took forever to get up. Just a warning, this is the darkness before the dawn. ;P

Chapter IX

I spent the memorial service in my room. Sitting in the chair beside the bed, I stared off into the distance, not talking to anyone who passed by. After a while my curiosity got the better of me, and I made my way out to the recreation room where a window overlooked the grounds. From there I could see a group of people seated in front of a small platform where Professor Xavier sat, talking to the crowd.

A small hand slipped into mine. I jumped slightly and then looked down, relaxing when I saw that it was only Artie.

"Weren't you and Jones going to the service?" I asked, surprised to see him there.

He shrugged. "It was boring."

"And standing up here with me isn't?" I smirked faintly, but it faded when he did not answer. I sighed then, looking back out. I could see Peter's back, right beside the smaller one of Kitty's. Bobby and Rogue were on the other side, but I only glanced briefly at them before turning away.

I walked over to one of the couches and collapsed on one, pulling a cushion over and hugging it to my stomach. Artie came over and sat down beside me.

"You want to play Foosball?" he asked, glancing at the table.

"No," I said, staring at the blank TV.

"Me either."

There was a pause.

"You want to get some food?"

I shook my head. "No." My reflection looked gloomy in the shiny surface of the black screen.

"Me either."

I had to smile slightly at that. Turning to look at him, I took in his melancholy features. Suddenly I felt guilty and rather selfish. Here I was feeling sorry for myself, when Artie and the rest of the students had lost a beloved doctor as well. I wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

"How are those hands doing?" I asked, picking up his arm and inspecting the hands. They had healed remarkably fast. I wondered if that was part of his powers. All I knew he had was that forked tongue, which did not seem to do him any good at all.

"They're fine," Artie said, pulling his arm away from me. He was frowning slightly.

Before I could ask what was wrong, Jones came into the room. He sat down on the other side of me with a sigh. Blinking, he turned the TV on and started flipping through the channels. I turned toward him with a frown of my own.

"Hey," I said, wondering how he was holding up. "How are you doing?"

"Fine," he said shortly, blinking rapidly. The channels flew by so fast Artie started to look dizzy. My frown deepened.

"What's wrong?" I asked, looking at him and then at Artie. Artie stared down at his shoes innocently. Jones's jaw tightened. Something was wrong. I jostled Jones's shoulder lightly.

"Hey," I said more firmly. "What's wrong?"

The TV shut off abruptly. Silence enveloped the room in a rather stifling way.

"Peter saw you," Jones forced out through gritted teeth.

I blinked in confusion. "Excuse me?"

He turned to look at me, frowning in disappointment. "I went with him to go check on you after you broke down yesterday. We followed Bobby to your room." His eyes were filled with accusation behind his glasses. "We saw you kiss him."

My mind went totally blank. I couldn't think of anything to say besides: "oh." I glanced over at Artie. He continued to stare at his shoes. I wondered if he even knew the significance of what had just happened. Obviously Jones had told him something. Suddenly I got angry. My love life, or lack thereof, was none of Jones's business. And now, thanks to him, Peter, and probably Kitty as well, knew of my humiliating episode with Bobby.

I flushed and stood. "Yeah well, I don't have to explain myself to you," I snapped, my pent-up emotions getting the better of me. "I've liked Bobby ever since I came here. There's nothing wrong with what I did."

Jones's eyes flashed with anger. He stood as well, glaring at me. I realized with a start that he had grown over the past few months. He and I almost stood nose to nose. "For one thing," he said, doing his best to stay calm. "Bobby already has a girlfriend. And for another thing, Peter likes you. And he has since you came here."

"Uh-huh. And how would you know? You guys have sleepovers and talk about your feelings while braiding each other's hair?" I realized that was hitting below the belt, but I couldn't take it back now.

Jones's flushed. "I know because I care about you and want you to be happy," he snapped. "But since you think you know what you want, I'll just leave you to it. Come on, Artie." He stormed over to the door. Artie gave me a slightly apologetic look before hopping off the couch and hurrying over to follow the older boy. Jones stopped in the doorway as Artie went on. He turned and nodded to my necklace.

"I know because he asked me what you would like for Christmas and I told him to get you that," he added, his voice cold. "I bet you thought it was from Bobby, huh?"

Without waiting for an answer, he left, leaving me standing alone in the middle of the rec room, my heart heavy, my head pounding. That is, I thought I was alone. As I turned away, a deep, quiet voice spoke from the doorway.

"We always want what we can't have."

I froze. "How much did you hear?" I asked, my voice small.

"Enough."

I grimaced and turned slightly, looking over into the grim face of Peter Rasputin. I felt even guiltier when I saw no accusation in his eyes, only a calm, sad acceptance.

"Peter," I choked out. "I didn't mean—I mean—I didn't want to hurt you. Ever. I just—"

"I know" came the gruff answer. He did not even sound angry. Just . . . resigned. "You just wanted him more than you wanted me." There was a slight twinge of hurt in his voice.

I lowered my head, balling my fists, and squeezing my eyes shut. Slowly, I raised my hands and unclasped the necklace. I gathered it up slowly in my hands and stared down at the rose. Swallowing hard, I held it out to him.

He shook his head, taking a step backwards. "It was a gift," he told me gently. "I don't regret my feelings for you. I won't take it back." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I can't wish you luck with Bobby," he added. "Rogue is my friend. She loves Bobby. And he loves her too."

I shut my eyes again. The screen of the TV wobbled slightly.

"But I know you're hurting. Maybe even more than the rest of us. So I hope you find peace, somehow."

When I opened my eyes, he was gone. I knew then what I had to do. I couldn't stay here. I was hurting too many people. Again. And no matter what my power was I couldn't fix it.

000000

I tried my best to sneak out during dinner, while all the kids were in the cafeteria. I put all my belongings into a backpack (I didn't own much) and headed for the door. I almost made it too, but Artie found me. He stood staring at me, wide-eyed.

Unable to face him, I turned my head away and stepped around him, hurrying to the front doors. I placed my hand on the handle and was about to pull back when a plaintive cry made me pause.

"Don't go!"

I turned slightly, catching a glimpse of Artie's tear-stained face before I had to look away. "It's for the best," I mumbled, knowing that was a lame line but not being able to think of anything better to say.

"No! Please stay. Please!"

The tears I had so stubbornly held back began to trickle down my face. I knelt quickly in front of him and gathered him up in my arms, holding him tightly. "I'm sorry," I murmured into his hair as I stroked his head gently. "I'm so sorry."

His small hands clung to me so tightly, I was afraid I would have to peel him off of me. "When will you be back?" he mumbled.

"I don't think I'm coming back, Artie," I said, choking on my words.

He suddenly ripped himself from my arms, glaring at me with red, watery eyes. "Don't say that!" he cried. "You have to come back. You have to!"

"Artie—"

I reached for him again but he pulled away, his eyes blazing angrily, the tears continuing to fall. "I hate you!" he shouted. "I hate you!"

He turned and fled, leaving me stunned. With a sob, I stood quickly. Turning before I could stop myself, I grabbed the handle and yanked open the door, stepping out into the darkness. I took several deep breaths, doing my best to stop crying. It did not help much.

Hiking the backpack further up my shoulder, I sprinted out through the courtyard. I knew I would not be able to go far on foot, but I couldn't bring myself to hotwire any of the cars. Besides, I didn't even know how to hotwire a car.

I ran up the road, not stopping until I stumbled over a rock and fell, face first in the asphalt. I rolled over onto the dirt and lay there, heavy, dry sobs wracking my body so hard it was painful. I had come to the school alone and now I was leaving it alone. Who knew so much could change in only half a year?

I had made good friends with Jones and Artie . . . and now they both hated me. I hadn't even tried to say goodbye to Jones. Somehow facing him would have been harder than my confrontation with Artie. And Kitty . . . she tried so hard to break through my shell. I had finally lowered my defenses enough to let her in and now this. She would probably forgive me, but would I be able to forgive myself?

Holding grudges was my fatal flaw, I realized. Only I didn't hold them against other people. I held them against myself. I couldn't forgive myself for my past wrongdoings. For my past sins . . . what was a few more to add to the pile?

None of those at the School knew about what had really happened to my parents, and I had never told anyone. It was better this way, it really was. If I had stayed longer . . . I might have actually told. Would they have looked at me the same? If I really thought about it, I realized they would have. Especially Peter . . .

Peter. The name caused another heaving sob. I had thrown away my friendship with him for a kiss that had given me no satisfaction whatsoever. And now he hated me too.

No Madi, he doesn't, my mind told me.

But my heart was too heavy to listen to it.

A noise in the trees beside me stopped my mental ramblings. I sat up slowly, swiping at my cheeks.

"Hello?" I called out hesitantly. "Is someone there?"

I reached into my backpack and pulled out the only weapon I had had on hand. A glass shard, broken from the bathroom mirror. It was somewhat broken itself, with spidery veins stretching over it. But that was good. That meant it would take less time to separate into a dozen glass daggers if I need them. I stood slowly. The sound paused, as if whoever it was had seen the weapon.

"You wouldn't really use that on me, would you?" a familiar cocky voice called out from the trees.

I lowered my hand in surprise. "John?" I asked, incredulously.

Pyro stepped out of the trees and grinned at me. "Hiya babe. Did you miss me?"

Ahhhhh! Cliffhanger!!!! You know that's right. ;) Review and tell me what you think of the chapter! (And yes, Madi is pretty crazy right about now. Just wait. This is only the beginning. }:} Mwuahahahahahahahaha!)