I KNOW ALL OF YOU ARE PISSED ABOUT WHAT I DID IN THAT LAST CHAPTER, SO TAKE THIS IS A GESTURE OF MY GRATITUDE THAT YOU ARE STILL HERE. NEXT CHAPTER COMING RIGHT UP.

All rights go to Fox; except for Arya. She's mine. She's having boy trouble.

update, 1/12/2016, explained in the A/N of Chapter 8 of Prometheus: Arya, originally from Carlsbad, California, is now from Glen Island, New Rochelle, NY.

Chapter 14

She could feel his breath fanning over her face. He was so close, their noses were practically touching. His hand ghosted over her cheek, while his thumb brushed against her lower lip. She sighed inwardly, practically vibrating with anticipation.

He had her pressed up against the wall, his one hand on her face while the other was placed firmly on the wall beside her head. It kept her from slipping away and to the door. Her frame shook, and it wasn't because the night was cold. His eyes pierced into her, seemed to look through her. And just as she was about to excuse herself, that was when he kissed her.

The kiss was hard, and desperate for reasons she didn't know nor did she need to know. His lips bruised against hers, and she returned his kisses with the same fervency.

His tongue brushed her lower lip and she moaned in contentment. She wound her hand in his hair, appreciating the feeling of his pushing at the small of her back. He pressed her firmly against him and she didn't fight.

When they finally pulled away, each of them was a hot mess. Her breaths came in short puffs as the kiss still lingered on her now-swollen lips. He still hadn't let go of her and was then leaning his forehead against hers.

Their noses touched, and he sighed.

He said, "Good night, Arya."

DAY 5

Arya woke up to the familiar loud knocking on her door.

"Arya! Breakfast!" Raven yelled from the other side. It had easily become a routine for them, for Arya would never really get off her bed herself willingly if it weren't for a particularly bad dream.

But her friend never woke her up before 11:30. Arya glanced at the wall clock, narrowing her eyes because it was across the room, and saw that it was just 8 o'clock. She groaned and put her pillow over her head. "Wake me up when it's lunch," she said. Her voice was muffled, but it was still loud enough to reach the door.

"Charles wants us finished with the sessions early so we can play Capture the Flag," Raven explained, knocking again. "Are you decent?"

"Of course I'm decent," Arya mumbled against her pillow. "I don't friggin' sleep in my underwear."

The door opened noisily and she threw her blanket over her head in an attempt to discourage the bouncy blonde. She groaned again when Raven practically jumped onto the bed, rocking the mattress.

"What time did you go to sleep?"

"Eleven," Arya muttered, digging her face deeper into the pillow. She could have suffocated but all she really wanted was to go back to sleep.

Raven laughed beside her. "Come on, that's already at least nine hours of sleep."

What you don't know is that I was at the kitchen for at least half the night. Arya sighed. She didn't want to tell her about what happened the previous night. In fact, she wasn't planning on telling anybody. No one really needed to know about the tension between her and their favorite telepath. If that were to happen, she was positive that things would turn awkward very fast. She just hoped it wouldn't make fighting in the same war more difficult than it needed to be.

The bed creaked softly when she flipped around to face Raven. She offered the mutant a sleepy, half-hearted smile. "I'll be down in ten minutes." Thankfully, the blonde got the message and left her. Once she was alone again Arya raised her arms over her eyes.

Traces of the dream were still fighting for attention at the corners of her mind. Arya wanted them to go away; she couldn't risk Charles snooping through her thoughts. And why wouldn't he? The scene they made in the kitchen was disastrous. And that dream Arya just had?

What was going on with her?

She showered quickly, mostly keeping the freezing water to her face to wake her up. When she was done, she dressed herself in pretty much the exact same clothing she wore the previous day, but this time, she tied her hoodie around her waist; more protection for the game.

Her limbs were still sore, and they yelled in protest with every step Arya took down the stairs. She focused more on the pain, and even though it was hell, it was still better than the alternative.

The noise was duller downstairs, and she quickly became suspicious. Arya peeked behind the wall and found all of them sitting in the living room. In the middle of their circle was a huge box, and Alex was rummaging through it with zeal. Arya jumped down the final step, announcing her presence.

Bad idea.

All eyes turned to her, but the only pair she was concerned about was Charles'. He sat on the wooden chair at the end of the room by the bookshelf, shifting in his seat when he saw her. For a few more torturous moments, Arya was forced to return his gaze. She could see the unspoken question behind his eyes, and she gulped.

When Alex exclaimed loudly—"Aha!" he said—she finally had a reason to look elsewhere. Arya stared at Charles for a moment longer before turning to look at Alex. He was holding up some kind of armor, and apparently it meant a great deal to him because he was beaming like a madman.

"Yes!" he said. "Heck yes! Finally!" He craned his neck to look at Charles, nodding his appreciation. The telepath returned it, somewhat unenthusiastically. Then Alex looked to Arya, who had just recently walked into the room. "No more bruises today, right, Arya?"

She raised her eyebrows and returned his smile, still staring at the armor in his hands. It was obviously for the paintball war they were going to have later in the day, but where had they come from?

For some reason, she turned her gaze to the professor again, and found him already staring at her. She raised a questioning eyebrow and he shrugged, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

In her mind, Arya spoke to him, knowing he was already—and always—listening. "Is that an apology?" Around them, Alex and Erik were distributing body armors to everyone, but Arya watched as Charles inclined his head the slightest bit; a nod.

A smile threatened to spread across her cheeks because he really had nothing to apologize for. The previous night was awkward for both of them, she knew that. But she also knew that she shouldn't blame Charles about it. There was an underlying mutualism with their feelings, and Arya discerned enough about herself to know when she was in denial.

Across from her, the telepath was still waiting for a response from her. Without breaking eye contact, she leaned down and got a piece of body armor for herself. She ran her hands over the length of it before permitting a grin.

Charles smiled before finally looking away, and Arya allowed herself to run her eyes over the thick piece of clothing in her hands. She sat next to Hank, who pulled his on his front, frowning. "No helmets or goggles?" he asked.

Everyone looked to the professor. He merely shrugged. "We only found those in the basement, Hank, and my father wasn't one to waste his money on silly games such as… paintball war." He smirked slightly at the last bit, and Erik chuckled from where he stood by the window (which seemed to be his favorite spot).

"It's not such a silly game anymore, is it, Charles?"

The telepath shook his head, his eyes subtly turning to Arya. "Not at all."

She smirked at him right before Raven appeared from inside the kitchen, holding in her hands two steaming hot plates of bacon, eggs, and toast bread. She placed them on the already-set table before rubbing her hands together, regarding the group with sparkling eyes.

"Breakfast is served."

She glared at Erik from across the field. He was the only one left to put down, but it was already their fourth round and Arya was exhausted. Her gun-arm dangled limply by her side as the other was pointed at Erik. Her Third Eye struggled to find the chink in his mental defenses.

She had already tried—several times—to distract him using Banshee's power, but every time she stopped screeching and tried to breach his mind, his walls were already back up. He had been practicing, as Arya hadn't been.

There hadn't been any other way for her to confuse him. Raven's mutation wouldn't help her, neither would Charles', neither would Hank's. She had never used Alex's, but all of them were unsure as to how it would go. She was too afraid to try anyway.

For a few more minutes, Arya tried every possible thing to get through to Erik. She threw multiple large objects at him, but he would just use the foil balls—now newly-improved and bigger—to knock them away. She tried shooting him at point blank range, to no avail. She even tried going at him with just her fists, but he kept levitating away.

Arya didn't chase him around, knowing she would just look stupid. Behind him, the flag taunted her. Today, it was a bronze red, and it reflected her desperation. The rain didn't help either.

Yes, it was raining. The little drops fell on them in heavy sheets of freezing cold. They weighed Arya's clothes down and turned the ground muddy, making walking all the more harder for her.

She was fairly aware of the others standing behind her, watching—as she had permitted. And when no other ideas presented itself, she gave shooting the levitating mutant point blank another go. As she pressed her finger tight against the trigger, keeping her eyes on him as paintballs shot out from the barrel of her gun, she ran at a slow pace to get closer.

His aluminum foil balls caught the impacts of the paintballs. They spun around him in a dizzying orbit, catching the force of every one of the colored balls.

At the same time, Arya held her other hand out, still trying to get into his mind and to his power. She scowled when he smiled cockily at her and flicked his wrist, sending one of the foil balls toward her. She knew it was just his method of taunting her, but she had already given up all together.

The ball whizzed past her head, barely missing her ear. Arya stopped shooting and dropped both her hands, letting her paintball gun fall to the ground the same time she did.

Stretching her legs out in front of her and her arms behind her to steady herself, Arya let her head fall back and she closed her eyes tight, fighting away the migraine that had appeared because of fatigue. "I yield," she said in a strangled gasp.

Erik's feet touched the ground beside her. He looked down at her, obviously amused by her current condition. "What was that?" he asked, and Arya saw the slightest hints of a smirk trailing up his lips.

She exhaled deeply, repeating, "I yield."

"We can't have that, can we?"

Her eyes flew open and the first thing she saw was a frown on the mutant's face, all traces of enjoyment gone with the wind. She glared. "I'm tired, Erik. I yield," she repeated again. Behind her, the others had walked into the course once again. Apparently, they'd heard what she said and accepted it.

Erik still hadn't.

"If you can't beat me, what makes you think you'll stand any chance against Shaw?" he said, antagonizing her.

"Shaw will be wearing a friggin' helmet that can keep even Charles out. I think I have a pretty good excuse. And I've beaten you a lot of times before," she retorted, panting. "I just need five minutes and then we can—"

"Do you think our enemies will give you five minutes when we're facing off against them?" he cut her off. The aluminum foil balls he'd been using before now lay on the ground beside them, completely forgotten. "This is exactly what we've been trying to improve: your endurance. How much have you been using your powers?"

"Enough!" Arya snapped, sitting up. "I've been using it enough, and wejust started this crappy workout yesterday! Do you really expect me to beat you singlehandedly after two straight hours of using my powers?"

"This workout has been tiring for all of us and yet you claim that you should be the exception? Charles has clearly been too soft on you."

That did it. The thin cord of patience she had left broke and she was on her feet in an instant, her eyes burning with anger. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me—?"

"It's hard for all of us!"

"YOU DON'T GET IT!" Arya stomped her foot, sending chunks of mud flying in every direction. "I haven't used my powers in years. I only just started using them again because you people can't take down a single threat. It's been five days, and I'm already exhausted out of my mind." She was yelling now, and she could see the surprise on Erik's face at her sudden outburst, but she didn't stop.

"Do you want to know why I stopped? I'm sure you guys have been whispering behind my back about how I had turned away from the world's special plans for me. But let me tell you this." Her voice dropped an octave and she stepped up. Erik was still taller than her, but her anger was stronger.

"When I was twelve, I sent a little boy to the hospital because I held his face in my hands for too long. That same day, my mother tucked me in; and guess what? I killed her because she was trying to comfort me." Erik opened his mouth to say something, probably going to tell her to stop, but Arya cut him off before anything escaped his lips. "When I was fifteen, my dad brought me to the Rockefeller Center in Manhattan to see the giant Christmas Tree. We ate in this fancy restaurant; and there was music and dancing. At the end of the night, I ended up killing him too. How'd that happen? It's because he held my hand for more than thirty seconds.

"I barely got away, you know. The police didn't stay on the case for long b-because my parents 'weren't important anyway'." She fought back the tears, but when they fell she pretended they were raindrops slipping down her cheeks. The look Erik sent her was one of genuine sadness and sympathy, but she returned nothing. Only anger. Only self-hatred. "I don't know about you, but I refuse to be mutant and proud." She shook her head, and she could feel her lips trembling. "I'm not proud of killing my parents."

The seconds that passed afterwards were complete agony. Arya still had not torn her eyes away from Erik's. She challenged him to say anything more, seeing his discomfort. When his hand rose from his side and made a move to settle on her arm, she slapped it away. That was when she dropped her gaze to the ground, and when Erik finally slipped past her and walked away.

Her back was to the others, and she clenched her hands into fists, feeling the bite of her fingernails against her skin. The memories she'd fought so hard to keep back came like a river; a river of pain, sorrow, torment. She waded in it as her heart tore itself into a million pieces.

When she felt a hand on her arm, Arya turned around to find Charles staring down at her earnestly. There were tears in his eyes as well, and she suspected he'd been in her mind. She didn't care anymore. His hands travelled lower, and for a moment he was able to touch hers, but she quickly pulled away.

Arya ran past him and past the others, into the house and to her room, where she hit the wall again and again and again, hoping it would relieve her of all the pain and the anger, but it helped as much as she had expected it to. Nothing.

She swiped her arms over her bedside table, knocking everything clean off. They clattered to the floor and she sat beside them, cradling her head in her hands. She took deep breaths. In… out… In… out… A knock came on her door and she didn't reply. It opened anyway, and Charles immediately stepped into the room.

For a minute, he just stood there and stared at her. And she stared back, sniffling. But when he rushed up to her and knelt in front of her and wrapped his arms around her, Arya accepted his touch without hesitation. She leaned into him, and he placed his chin on her head.

Arya continued her ragged breathing for a while longer, determined to plug the weakness back into the dam. However, when Charles placed a kiss on the top of her head, murmuring the words "It's alright" into her hair, her walls broke down all over again.

She sobbed into his chest, and he kept kissing the top of her head, murmuring the same words over and over again. He didn't know if it helped or not, but he wasn't afraid to try.