I am freaking awesome.

Storm appraises me as I saunter out of the locker room. "I hear no one died today."

"Amazing, right? You leave me in charge and no one dies, incredible."

"My apologies again for being absent." Her tired sigh ends with a smile. "Scott says he was going to ask you to join the team before the incident."

I shake out my damp hair and comb it with my hand. "So it seemed."

"He believes you have reservations now after what's happened."

I've always had reservations, but unless I'm speaking with Logan I can't explain them to another team member. "Tell Scott to put me wherever there's use for me. I trust him."

"You should tell him yourself."

"Well, you know, if you see him before I do." I nod at a waving student as I pull my hair back with a loose tie.

Storm continues studying me. "How realistic were the media reports about Manhattan? Was it actually an army?"

"Army sounds accurate."

Storm crooks a concerned brow and looks down the hall at Cerebro. "Rate of retaliation?"

"Nil." I stuff my hands in my pockets. "But they're not the only ones out there."

"What did they want?"

"Hell if I know," I reply, impatient to get away.

The sight of trodden snow on the way to the stables gives me a faint sense of dread. Vince did say he might arrive a day early, but I was kind of hoping he wouldn't. It was nice last time I saw him- the kissing was strange- but he had to leave for school the next day which meant I was left with several weeks to develop a mild regret.

But as I step over the footprints- smaller and lighter than his- I pick up a female scent. Concentrating, I locate the lone human heartbeat in the stables, and taste a mild perfume. The agent Romanoff, always showing up in places she shouldn't be.

I stand in the snow, my own heart beating wildly. If she's out here then Xavier already knows. She may even have cordially introduced herself, but I don't know why she'd walk into a place like this uninvited. This isn't somewhere she can pretend to belong, and these aren't people she can easily deceive.

With a start she pivots to face me as I land not three yards away from her.

"Who let you in?" I ask.

She swallows, and gives a small smile. "Clint said you'd do that."

Ignoring her, I wait for an answer. Gathering her wits and putting on a very casual expression, she says,

"Gruff Canadian with sideburns. Told me I'd find you here."

"No he didn't." Although she isn't lying.

Romanoff purses her lips and tilts her head. "I'm not here to make trouble, Ace. Clint asked that I come see you."

Again, no lies, but people who've been lying for so long believe everything they say. No increased heart rate, no mental dissonance, just words falling from a rehearsed tongue. It takes me a minute to remember Clint is Barton's first name. "Why would he ask you to do that?"

"Because he's worried about you. And he trusts me." The way she says it, as though it's a recommendation. "He says you already know what Loki did to him. When you met him he wasn't so bad, but the extent of the damage-" She presses her tongue into her cheek. "He's being monitored at a secure location, and should make a full recovery. He wants you to know he intends to make contact when he's released."

I hear Vince approaching the building. Trouble. Stay inside.

Natasha notices the change in my attitude, but Vince barely hesitates to obey. I disguise his retreating footsteps by walking over to a cabinet and unlocking it. The horses all shuffle to their gates, muttering in hopes for a treat. The mansion door shuts.

"Clint was tired and drinking when he spoke with me," I say. "I didn't think he meant anything he said."

Natasha watches my actions carefully. "He meant it, but he has the bad habit of taking on more than he can handle. I noticed you've moved into your suite."

I glance at her over my shoulder as an old roan brushes pillowy lips over my palm. "The tower?"

She smiles with just the corner of her mouth. "Now that you're on the team, you'll find Clint thinks he can support everybody."

Oh good, I'm unofficially part of two teams now. "So, what are his symptoms? Is it PTSD, or something else?"

"Disorientation, disassociation, episodes of dramatics- that's the shortlist. He's in good hands. He just wanted to make sure you were adjusting well."

I wipe off my hands. "Tell him he shouldn't worry."

"I tell him that often," she says with a hint of humor. "There is another reason I'm here."

Of course there is. I don't respond, but resume locking the cabinet. She recovers the silence easily.

"SHIELD still has you listed as a consultant- Sorry, not you," she puts up both hands disarmingly, "an anonymous informer."

I don't like the way she acts, like these are lines in a play and she's putting on a show. "And you're here to consult?"

"That's not in my job description, but I am here to see if you're still interested in the position. Barton seemed to infer that you were trading information with Coulson. If that were the case, he asked that-"

"No." Hell no. "We'd concluded our agreement as there was nothing left to discuss. Please thank Barton for his concern, but there's nothing I need from SHIELD."

Ms. Romanoff smiles and clasps her hands in front of her. "I wasn't finished. This is between you and Clint, I'm just the intermediary. He's not trying to get information out of you, but if there was something left to fulfill on Coulson's part he'd like to help out. You don't have to tell me what it is."

You do not know this woman, you do not know this woman. Since our first encounter in Malibu, she's seen through me as though I were glass. People don't notice me in general, but when they do they're women. I do my best to avoid women. "I already told Clint that the matter was resolved. Is he suffering from memory loss as well, or does he just not believe me?"

Ms. Romanoff lifts her chin. "He believes you."

Finally. The hairs at the back of my neck prickle, but unlike last time, it isn't out of fear. "Then I think we're finished here. Do you need me to escort you back to your car?"

One copper brow arches, and her hands unclasp with a casual swing. "I can find my own way back. Thank you."

I smile wanly and stay where I am until she's left the building. Listening, I make sure she enters the mansion and indeed goes back the way she came. I've got a Canadian to find.

Vince is waiting for me in the mudroom, scratching the back of his head and looking sheepish. "Is everything okay?"

"Where's Logan?"

"He was down by study hall last I saw him."

I jump there. "Why did you let her in?"

Logan looks up annoyed, and takes his feet off the desk. "Front door ain't exactly locked. She asked how to find you, I directed her back outside. Figured you could handle yourself."

"Did the fact that I've never had visitors before fail to tip you off that she shouldn't be here, or did you just see red hair and let her sidle on by?"

He glowers.

"Don't do it again." I turn on my heel to leave.

"Hey," he strides into the hallway after me, "how am I supposed to know who all you spend time with nowadays? You're never here, and when you're away I don't know who or what you're seeing."

"Why do you care? It's not like I'm running a crime ring or sleeping with strangers. I work 24/7, I stay in shape, I eat healthy, I see my friends- friends you know- and the worst I do is go to bed after midnight. What more do you want from me?"

He scowls. "Ace, I'm not worried about you. But you were supposed to tell me some things by now, things you've told others, things I never get to hear. As someone who's put a lot of work into you, I'm entitled to a bit of insight."

"Insight? Okay. You set me up with Vince because suddenly he listens to you, and suddenly you care. I was supposed to be an X-Man by now, but that didn't happen. The Avengers seem to think I'm part of their gang, which is news to me because last I checked one of them is off-planet, one's in India, Tony's in Malibu, another two are trying to readjust, and the one who despises me just sashayed past you and marked her territory. Is that insight enough?"

A veritable storm cloud rests on his shoulders. "Set you up with Vince, huh?"

"That's what you got out of that?"

"Since you were in school you'd rather tell your friends things than me," he says. "It bothers me when you keep things from me- makes me wonder what I did to deserve it."

I run my hands through my hair, hating the smell of the shampoo that was in the locker room today. "I never know what you want me to tell you. I told you about Manhattan, my upbringing, and why I didn't age. There just isn't much left after that."

He's grinding his teeth, but not in anger. He knows he's made a mistake. "Scott had words for you. I'd catch him before he forgets them."

...

Scott rubs his forehead and looks around the staff kitchen.

"Assignment four, it's beneath that yellow paper."

His eyes fall on the spot and he sighs disconsolately. "Was there anything else? How's Haslett doing with the vertigo?"

"Fine, and Joe doesn't trip over his own feet quite as often. Everyone else is doing a good job. Maybe not to your standards, but good." I glance at his face. "The other papers are to your left."

"Please don't do that."

"Sorry."

He reaches for the papers. "I keep forgetting to ask, but this New York team, who are they?"

I hear the subtext. "They aren't trouble. They won't be trouble."

"And you know Tony Stark pretty well."

"I know a few of them well. They're good people. Freaks, all of them," I crack a smile, "just not mutants."

Scott smiles back, and it's refreshing. "As long as they make our job easier. Matt seems frustrated."

He usually calls him by his last name. "He's going through a mid-life crisis. I hear college kids have those."

Scott laughs flatly, almost like it hurts. "I know it's hard, but stay in contact with him. Let him know he's never too far from home."

"I will." I glance at his empty coffee cup. "Refill?"

"Please. Thank you."

I'm emptying a single packet of sugar into the mug when Vince enters the kitchen and leans against the fridge.

"Crap, sorry." I give him an apologetic look. "I got distracted."

He just raises an eyebrow in an irritatingly vague way and nods to the pot. "There enough for another cup?"

"Help yourself." I move out of the way. "This is for Scott, by the way."

Vince shrugs. "I've never seen you drink coffee anyway."

There's a graphite stain on the side of his hand. He's never been one for drawing, but one of his professors encouraged it. He leaves his coffee to settle while he washes the graphite off under the sink. "That was a SHIELD agent."

I clear my throat.

"What'd she want?"

"Don't know." I look at the kitchen door. "I'll be right back."

Vince shakes his head. "Just meet me outside."

On my way back I grab one of the dinner plates from the cafeteria and race it out to the stables. We don't usually eat at the appropriate times anymore, but I feel bad for forgetting him like I did. Vince perks up at the sight of dinner, and makes room for me to set it on the desk. His room has a bigger desk and two chairs, but we both prefer the solitude out here. Halfway through the mashed potatoes, Vince clears his throat. "I shouldn't have kissed you."

I sit still, knowing the blood is rushing to my cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I should've asked- It was cheesy. Like something out of those movies you hate."

I rub my thumbs together, wishing I knew of a clever way to dispel the awkwardness. Taking the fork, I start spearing kernels of corn onto the tines. "It wasn't bad, I just…wasn't ready."

He tucks his hands between his knees- my room is rather chilly- and leans forward. "So, what do you want to do? Do you want to go slow, do you want me to back off-"

"Slow," I interrupt. "I'm sorry I've never done this before. It'll take some time getting used to. Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay. You don't have to ask."

I twirl the fork slowly, critiquing my work. "I just don't want to make you wait longer than you already have."

At this, Vince laughs. "I think I left a few times and dated other people. You didn't make me wait for anything."

I scrape the corn off on the side of the plate. "Yes, but Logan says you're crazy about me."

"Logan thinks everyone's crazy."

"So you're not crazy about me?"

He sucks in his lips and smiles with his eyes. "I'm not answering that."

I laugh under my breath, feeling shy for some reason. This is strange.

Vince stands up and takes the plate. It'll get less strange. I promise. We'll finally be normal for once.

I smile at the irony, but it strikes a chord. Handing him the fork, I stand up too. "Come back with ice cream."

Leaning up, I kiss him gently on the cheek, linger a little, and pull away.

...

Decaying paper, old ink, and countless hands.

I hand the book back to Madge. "Definitely that old book smell."

She grins and puts it back on the shelf. "Sometimes I just buy books for the way they feel, you know? New books are okay, but old books have so much personality. Here, hold this one."

Another used book is stuffed into my gloved hands. Humoring her, I appraise it like a collector, testing its weight and the way the pages turn. "Oh. There's a pressed flower in this one."

"Really?" Madge leans forward with held breath as though I were holding out the first copy of the bible. "I love finding those."

Matt is chuckling somewhere which means either the cashier did manage to show him where their vintage porn is kept, or he's found a book of classical art.

Madge takes the flower book back from me. "Keeping."

"Are you going to read it?"

"Already did. I have five copies of Gone with the Wind back home. Won't hurt to have another."

Vince taps me on the shoulder, so I turn around. He's holding up some old engineering book or other, and points to a black and white photo of a mustachioed man. "That's Tony Stark's dad?"

"Get out." I snatch the book from him. "He's actually younger than him in this picture."

"So, I've seen enough art for one day." Matt swaggers over, glances at the book in my hands, and glances away again. "There are only so many sculptures of naked men one can look at before turning gay."

I hand Vince his book and look over my shoulder at Madge. "Well, Belle here decides when we leave. I wouldn't cross her."

"Oh no, it's fine." Madge sets a book back on the shelf and adjusts the stack in her arms. "I'm good to go."

"You got enough money for all that?" I ask.

Madge nods surely, but there's a glazed look in her eye and she nods too much.

I check my pockets. "I've got a ten. Matt?"

"Hm? Oh, sure. I'll enable your addiction, Maggie."

That girl blushes like it was going out of style. "Oh no, really, I can just put some back."

"That is the most anti-Madge thing I have ever heard you say," Matt declares, "and I don't ever want to hear it again. Here."

"I can't take your money-"

"I'm going to blow it on beer if you don't," he threatens.

Madge sucks her lips in, half hiding a smile. "I'll pay you back."

Matt shrugs. "Whenever."

Vince clears his throat. Smooth.

I glare at him. No.

Vince and Madge lead the way up the street to the record store, crunching through old snow and patches of salt. I stare up at the fish scale sky, tasting a blizzard on the way.

"Madge doesn't pretend does she?"

I come back to Earth. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, she just is what she is and isn't fake about it." Matt looks at me to make sure I understand. "She's not trying to be anyone else, she's just happy being herself."

That's a revelatory observation on his part.

"You guys should come to London again. She loved it last time."

Now he's noticing someone else's enjoyment of something. "Matt, when was the last time you had a steady girlfriend?"

He gives me a funny look then tries to think about it. "I guess it was Kelly. We dated back in April."

"Matt," Vince and Madge have stopped walking, "is this place the next block over? Maggie can't remember." Matt catches up to them, and Vince falls back. "How is he?"

"Nerve-wracking. He's never been single for this long." I blow my hair out of my face. "I don't know what to do with him if he's not womanizing."

"He still parties though," says Vince. "And, er, I'm pretty sure he has one-night stands."

I cringe. "That's not something I needed to-"

A preteen blasts past us, bumping Vince. His flip phone clatters across the pavement, but he keeps going. I retrieve it and run after him. "Hey, kid!"

He turns sharply, and I slow my sprint.

"Oh, wow, thanks," he smiles gratefully as he takes the phone. "My aunt would've killed me."

His pullover is emblazoned with an image of Cap's shield, his hair is neatly combed, one of his sneakers is untied, and it looks like he's jimmied his broken glasses back together with jeweler's wire. Ingenious, really, especially for a kid who needs glasses.

"Nice sweater."

Immediately he becomes sheepish. "Oh, thanks. Early Christmas present."

Shouldn't be out by yourself. "Be careful, okay?"

He nods a few times, probably used to being chastened by that aunt. "Thanks again."

...

Once we're home I let my face reform. Holiday season, everyone's out on the streets window shopping like we were. Action figures of the Avengers were in a toy store display today- laughable all of them- and I was relieved not to see one of myself in there too. I've run into various other people I rescued during the event, but at least three of those times I was wearing a different face and went unnoticed.

"Does it still hurt?"

I stop massaging my face for a second. Yeah.

Vince gets an ice bottle from the mini-fridge Logan got me last Christmas. "Will this help?"

I shake my head and press my face into his shoulder. The ice goes back, and he closes the door.

"Is there a reason you don't just use an illusion for everyone?"

For convenience sake I used one for him and Matt and Madge today, keeping my real face for them. It's too much hassle. I've got to alter the perception of each and every mind in the vicinity- not to mention cameras- and that means also predicting who's going to come around the corner in the next minute. I'm just not that good at it. How're you doing? You said the telepathy was acting up.

"Nah, just the ventriloquism. It happens when I study, I feel like my mind is on the other side of the room."

Studying makes most people feel that way. You learned that while you were away, no?

Vince rubs his chin, freshly shaven from the beard he attempted to grow. "One of the brethren could do it on a mass scale and used it to keep Xavier off our backs. He taught me how to do it just for me."

Getting Vince to talk about his time with the Brotherhood happens so rarely that I hate to change the subject. However, I flinch at the sound of shouting in the house. Scott and Logan are at it again.

Vince covers my ears with his hands. Does that help?

I try not to smile, leaning my head against his chest instead. Yes, that helps.

"Does the shape-shifting make it hurt to talk out loud?"

I resort to hugging him. You ask too many questions.

He keeps his hands over my ears and kisses the top of my head. Back before the Brotherhood, when he was restless and troublesome, Vince could still calm me down like this. He'd just sit there quietly and let me think at him, always making me wonder if this was the real him and not the contentious kid with truckloads of angst.

"What should I do, Vin? Should I be an X-Man, or an Avenger?"

His fingers run through my hair, pushing it back from my face. "Why can't you be both?"

"Why can't I be both?" I repeat. "I don't know, can I?"

"Do you want to be both?"

I grumble at this new complication and rub my eyes. "You want to be both."

"Alright," he turns me toward the bed, "go to sleep, crazy."

"You're crazy." I pull off my overshirt. "Get out of here."

There's a crash in the mansion and more shouting. Vince stops at the door and looks back at me, but I shake my head.

"They've been doing that all semester. Sometimes it even ends up outside."

A louder crash, I can hear Jean's raised voice, and the snikt of Logan's claws.

"They do that around the students?" Vince asks.

I sit on the edge of the bed and peel off my socks. "Most of them seem to just accept it now. It happened once or twice over the summer too so I hear."

Vince puts his hands in his pockets and stares at the window, looking conflicted.

"You're welcome to snuggle with one of the horses, but it's going to be warmer inside," I joke.

He glances at me, then back at the window. "How long do they usually last?"

I shrug. "It'll clear up in another minute. Jean and Storm usually separate them, or the Professor makes Logan chill out. Logan hates that, but he does get nasty sometimes."

"And you're okay with all of it?" Vince asks uncertainly.

"I'm out here, aren't I?"

He rubs his chin again, still obviously nervous about going inside.

"Vin, it's okay. They're calming down right now, I promise. Storm's giving Logan the cuss-out of the century. It's beautifully eloquent, you should hear it."

That merits a small smile. "Goodnight, A."

I listen as he shuffles his way back through the snow, letting his mind wander farther away until I can't hear it anymore. Piotr and Hank are cleaning up whatever the guys broke, and Storm continues berating Logan down the hall and into the garage as he makes his way to the nearest bar.