A/N: A shorter chapter again, but I felt it needed to stop when it did. =)

Chapter XX

Jones sought me out later that afternoon. He stood there stiffly, hands clenching and unclenching. He didn't look me in the eye when he spoke.

"Artie's really happy," he said, his voice strained. "He hasn't been happy in a long time. So . . . thanks." After a slight hesitation, he turned and started off down the hall with quick, short, angry steps.

My heart twisted painfully, and I knew I couldn't let him go like this. I'd made my peace with Artie, even though I knew it would cost me, and I needed to say something to Jones as well. I couldn't keep being a selfish coward. I had no idea where this path I was starting on would take me, but I knew I wanted Jones and Artie to be happy, no matter what happened to me.

Still, it took Jimmy's sharp nudge in the ribs to get me to actually speak up. And when I did, I surprised myself by desperately yelling the last thing I expected to come out of my mouth.

"Connor!"

Jones froze in mid-step. I realized I had never, ever heard anyone use his first name. I also realized I had never asked why he didn't go by his first name. Another testament to how selfish I had been.

Jones was still frozen, and I could see his thin shoulders heaving as he breathed heavily. Another nudge from Jimmy shoved me forward, and I stumbled over to the boy. Tentatively, I lifted my hand and placed it on his shoulder, turning him slowly to face me. Taking both his shoulders in my hands, I moved closer, trying to catch his gaze. He wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Connor," I said again, gently this time, watching his face carefully. He flinched and wet his lips before biting down on his bottom one. He didn't say anything for a long moment.

"You know my name," he said finally in a small voice. "I never told you."

"No," I agreed. "You didn't."

I waited for the implications of that to stick. Obviously I had found out about it before I left, and had cared enough to remember it two years later. It was the only conclusion I knew he would come to. I could feel him trembling beneath my hands, and I tightened my grip to steady him.

"I'm so sorry," I said softly, watching him closely as he blinked rapidly, his eyes wet. "I didn't mean to hurt you. Any of you. I thought I was doing the right thing."

"The right thing for who?" Jones asked through gritted teeth, finally raising his face to look me in the eye. His accusing gaze pierced my heart as surely as if he had taken a knife to it.

"I wanted to protect you." I risked laying my hand against his cheek, stroking it with my thumb. I felt him stiffen at the contact, so I dropped my hand to my side.

"No, Madi," he said finally, his brown eyes boring into my soul. "You wanted to protect yourself."

"I'm sorry," I repeated softly, unable to think of anything else to say.

Jones backed up, shaking his head faintly before turning away completely and quickly making his way down the hall. I took a deep, shaking breath as I watched him go. Jimmy reached over and slipped his hand into mine.

"He'll come around," he said confidently. "I could tell he still cares about you. Don't think about what he said. He'll be back."

"I'm not so sure," I murmured. "Because he was right, Jimmy. He was right."

Jimmy had no answer for that. I pulled my hand away. "I need to be alone for a little while," I told him, staring down the hall where Jones had gone.

"But . . . your headaches," Jimmy protested.

"I'll be okay," I assured him, patting his shoulder absently. Without another look at him, I walked away, heading toward John's room. I wanted to talk to someone and not feel threatened to spill my entire secret out. John was the only one who knew everything about me, even though he definitely would not have been my first choice in confidantes. He didn't understand the bond I had shared with the boys and Peter. And he definitely didn't get why I liked spending time with Jimmy.

"That's almost as bad as just taking the cure," he had said, glaring at me.

"It helps my headaches," I said.

"Yeah, well, take an aspirin." He had then slammed the door in my face. We hadn't really spoken since then.

Now I hesitated outside his door. Taking a deep breath, ignoring the pain in my head and the guard watching me warily, I knocked loudly. The door opened almost instantly. John blinked at me in surprise before frowning slightly.

"Yes?" he asked shortly.

"I just wanted to talk," I said, biting back some scathing words at his attitude.

"So talk," he said, leaning in the doorway and crossing his arms.

"Can't I come in?" I asked, glancing sidelong at the guard.

Rolling his eyes, John stepped back and held the door open wider. I stepped inside the room, and he shut the door behind me. Moving over to the bed, he sat down and looked up at me.

"So . . . shoot," he said.

"Um, how are things . . . with Bobby?" I asked, stalling.

John scowled. "Guy doesn't know when to give up. Every stinkin' day I get him telling me he's forgiven me and how he wants me to 'come back.' Like I want his forgiveness. Like I want to be a stinkin' goody-two-shoe X-Men. I've been staying in here mostly, so I don't have to see him. So, when are we busting out of here?" He looked up at me expectantly, and I swallowed hard.

"I-I'm not entirely sure I still want to go . . ." I said in a small voice.

John stood abruptly. "You're kidding, right?" he demanded, his scowl darkening into a deadly glare. "You promised we'd get out of here if I played along with your little act. I've been waiting and waiting . . . you know how many times I could have burned down this place? But I kept my cool because you said you'd get me out of here."

"I know, I know I did," I said, flushing. "But things have changed . . . I think I'm changing. Things aren't that bad here, John. We have a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear. We're not being treated badly. Where would we go if we leave? Magneto's human now; the Brotherhood is disbanded. You think anyone would give us jobs now that we've spent so much time behind enemy lines? On both sides? We're better off here."

"Argh! I can't believe you're doing this to me!" John cursed at me loudly. "I should've never trusted you. Get out of here."

"But John—"

"I said, get out!" He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the door, shoving me outside and slamming it in my face.

Tears gathered in my eyes and threatened to spill over down my pale cheeks. That had gone worse than I thought it would've. Taking a deep breath, I turned and made my way to an unfamiliar part of the mansion.

The very top of the Mansion was flat, and I knew of a staircase that led to it. None of the kids were allowed to use the stairs, but I doubted anyone would try to stop me. Where could I go from the roof? Still, I was apprehensive about Peter following. When I looked around I couldn't see him, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He was always nearby as far as I could tell.

That wasn't going to stop me though. I crept up the staircase and opened the trapdoor that took me onto the roof. It was a gorgeous view, I had to admit. Trees everywhere, the courtyards spread out from the back and the front. Standing near the edge of the parapet's crenelated wall, I could see some children playing on the basketball court, and some studying beneath the trees. Despite my headache, it was quite peaceful up here.

"You stole my thinking spot," an amused voice from behind me said.

I froze and shut my eyes in frustration. I hadn't known anyone else came up here. Couldn't I get at least ten minutes to myself? Was that too much to ask?

"Yeah, well, I don't see your name on it," I shot back, stubbornly looking forward and refusing to look at whoever it was. It sounded male though, and vaguely familiar. I wondered if it was someone I had known before.

"Touché," the guy said. "Still, I've never seen any of the other students come up here. What's on your mind?"

"I'm not a student," I said instead of answering his question.

"Oh?"

"Prisoner of war, technically. I was with the Brotherhood. Madelyn Shard."

I glanced slightly to the side, but he must've still been behind me because no one was there.

"Warren Worthington III," the guy said, though he didn't sound that happy about it.

"Long name. Sounds familiar."

"Warren Worthington, Jr. is my dad."

"Oh, right. Didn't he create the cure?"

"Yeah. Worthington Labs is on Alcatraz. Well, it was at least."

I grimaced. "Sorry about that."

"I don't really care."

I started in surprise. "But, your dad . . ."

"Never really understood me. He thought I wanted the cure, but he was wrong. I never wanted it. Well, maybe at first when I was a kid and afraid of him. But when I got older, I grew to like them. Still do. They give me freedom. It's exhilarating being up there. Some of the students tell me about dreams they have, and ask me if it feels the same in real life. I tell them it's better."

I had stopped breathing. I'm not sure when I knew, but I did, and now my hands had glued themselves to the merlon.

"You okay? You look pale."

It's okay, I told myself. You're overreacting. What he's saying doesn't mean he's who you think he is. He could mean anything. People dream about a hundred different things. He doesn't have to mean flying. He can't mean flying. What I saw was just a hallucination. They're just dreams. Not prophecies. Just dreams.

But then a hand came down on my shoulder and turned me toward the speaker. Warren Worthington III. The first thing I saw was the wings. The large, beautiful white wings extending from his shoulder blades. He was shirtless and his toned chest was covered with a light sheen of sweat. His hair was blonde and although it was short, it looked windswept. Obviously he had just landed from somewhere. But he couldn't have lived here. Why had I never seen him before? His blue eyes looked at me in concern.

"Are you alright, Madelyn?" he asked.

"No," I croaked. "No. No. No!" It was all I could say. Reaching up, I pushed him away as hard as I could. He looked surprised.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, though I got the feeling he didn't know what for.

"No, no, no," I continued to mutter. "This can't be happening. You can't be real. You can't!"

"Look, maybe I should get someone. Do you want me to call someone for you?"

I stumbled back against the parapet wall, dangerously close to the crenel. "No! You can't be real! I won't let it come true!"

"What are you talking about?" Warren asked desperately. "Please, just get away from the edge, and we can figure this out."

I shook my head back and forth violently, feeling lightheaded. I knew a faint was coming: I felt the same during the battle at Alcatraz just before I hit the debris. Warren came forward to help me, but I jerked away . . . and over the parapet.

As I fell I could hear shouts from above me. It sounded like more than one. But before this could really register, my body collided with something and everything went black.

00000

I could hear voices. They were talking all around me, arguing. I could hear John's angry voice shouting at people to get away from me. I could hear Kitty's voice trying to calm him. I could hear someone crying, and another voice soothing the tears. Warren was explaining to someone what had happened. There was so much noise and confusion; I didn't want to wake up.

But I felt someone stroking my face, my hair. Someone with large, calloused fingers. My eyes flickered open, and I looked to the side to find my gaze arrested by Peter's. He was smoothing back my hair, his lips in a firm, straight line. He didn't look happy, but I could see relief in his eyes. I felt groggy, as though drugged. Without really meaning to, I found myself speaking.

"You're always right there," I murmured to Peter, my eyelids threatening to close again. "Watching over me. You know what I am . . . and after all I've done to you . . . why?"

His gaze softened, and I could see the battle behind his eyes. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, and it was so full of emotion it cracked.

"You know the answer to that." He took my hand and squeezed it three times. One. Two. Three.

Even as I drifted back into unconsciousness, I could feel the beats of my heart echoing that squeeze. One. Two. Three. And I flushed because I knew their meaning as clear as if he had spoken them aloud.

I. Love. You.

*heart melts* Finally, right??? Ahhhhh, things are coming to a head! We've met Warren, and Peter's relenting. I foresee great changes in Madi's future, some good, some bad. But remember, they always live happily ever after. ;) Most of the time at least . . . Anyway, review and tell me what you think of the chapter! XD

(P.S. If you didn't remember, Jean Grey called Jones by his full name in chapter 3. His first name was never spoken in the movie, so I took the actor's first name: Connor.)