MATTHEW

Matthew leaned his head back against the window as the train sped towards the UpMountain and the life he led there. "Go to the airlocks." G was still big on that. Matthew had heard the phrase whispered as a parting greeting throughout the Sewers, and even in other parts of the DownMountain. He wondered if G was responsible for its prevalence. Matthew sighed. He wished his childhood friend wasn't prone to superstition but had humored him this time.

This day in the DownMountain had put a lot on his mind: reconnecting with G, having his history with Jenna shoved in his face again, uncomfortable old memories resurfacing. He had woken this morning looking forward to another day of thinking about nothing and was irritated by G's interference. He sighed and asked himself again why he had agreed to G's hairbrained plan.

Then he thought of the dancer and felt something he hadn't felt in a long time. He pushed those thoughts aside.

His view through the binoculars hadn't been great, but it had been enough to understand that she knew what she was doing. A student of ballet since he was small himself, he appreciated other dancers of skill. She hadn't been doing any leaps, probably because she was dancing on concrete and would risk injury, but that hadn't taken from her performance, which had been compelling in its organic composition and passionate presentation.

It had called to him.

She dances like you used to dance.

Again uncomfortable, Matthew pulled away from why that might be. His mind sought another topic.

He didn't like the idea of dancing without music. Music might also help keep the girl from running. He thought he recalled a portable player in a storage closet. He decided he'd ask his father.

It also occurred to him that given his hiatus from dancing, maybe he shouldn't be too ambitious getting back into it. He hadn't danced in over four months. Would that be a problem? After some consideration, he decided it wouldn't; he'd been dancing since he was six and had regularly joined pick up sports games in the past few months. His physical fitness was fine.

As the train pulled into the UpMountain station, he thought of dancing the next day, and found a small smile tugging at his lips.

His good mood faded quickly as he stepped out onto clean unblemished tiles of the platform at the UpMountain station, so different from the one he had left 20 minutes ago. That had been crumbling and dirty, festooned with grafitti. His moment of peace lost, he once again only wished to escape from the truth about the world he lived in.

Matthew kicked at the ground and gritted his teeth, then proceeded to make his way down the streets that wound through high arched tunnels. Wrapped up in his anger and bitterness, he arrived at home, a simple house in a row of similar houses. He thought his mood might just be perfect for the reception he knew was coming. He went around to the back and entered through the double doors into the casual dining room.

His sister Jae, short for Jalisa, was setting the table. She graced him with the disgusted look that had become customary as he entered, but surprisingly had no choice words for him tonight. Not yet, he thought sourly.

"Mattie, is that you?" a voice called from the adjacent kitchen. At his affirmative grunt, his father emerged bearing a steaming dish which he set on the table. An inch or so shorter than Matthew, Adam Summers had brown hair, unusually light for his tawny face, and hazel eyes positioned with a slight slant. Also a dancer, his physique was more suited to the art than Matthew's, which bordered on burly with its wide shoulders. Adam was instead slender, almost slight, although his strength was apparent in the way he moved and his well-muscled body. He gazed levelly at his son.

"How was school?"

Matthew smiled broadly. "Great. I learned a lot today. Those DownMountain teachers are the best." His father knew very well he hadn't gone to the school once since transferring.

Jae made a disgusted sound, and Matthew heard her mutter something about a total waste. He shifted his smile to her.

His sister was tall, like him, and stood almost on par with Adam. Her skin was a shade lighter than Matthew's, but her eyes were a shade darker and her face was narrower. Her black hair with glints of red she cut short and dyed blond. Currently, it was styled in small spikes across her scalp. She was athletic and participated in many sports although basketball was her favorite. She was as powerfully muscled as Adam or Matthew.

"Did you say something, sweet sister? I missed it."

"Just go back to her already, you fool. You could have a veritable goddess at your side, and instead you hang out with gamblers and gamers. What the hell is wrong with you?"

There it was. Jae was completely indoctrinated into the UpMountain. She would never understand why Matthew wouldn't go back to his ex-girlfriend. It wasn't even worth it to try and explain.

"If you like her so much, why don't you start dating her? We all know she swings both ways now. Go ahead, be my guest."

Jae looked down uncomfortably for a moment, then glared at him again. "There isn't a straight guy, or a gay girl, or anyone in between, who doesn't wish they weren't you. You could get back with her just for the kicks, which you apparently had a lot of, and not have to use your useless brain at all." Her tone was scornful.

"Jae!" Adam's voice was sharp. Her comment toed too close to a line that Adam held dearly. A line that he had once crossed and would forever regret. He had been sure to teach his children well so they wouldn't make the same mistake. It had been an extremely uncomfortable conversation.

Jae did look chastised. They sat, and for a few minutes they focused on their food in silence. Then she started again, a new topic, but as full of scorn and derision at her brother as ever.

"Well, at least one of us is working to uphold the dignity of our family. I'm joining the Cadets."

"Jae, please, I said we need to talk about that some more…"

Matthew disregarded his father's entreaty, and slamming his fork down, full out shouted at his sister. "And you think I have problems? Are you crazy? They're a bunch of stuffed-up sadistics!" The Cadets was the entry-level to the Montagne's military branch.

"I've decided, Dad." Jae ignored Matthew's outburst. "I'm going to sign up tomorrow and will be starting summer exercises once classes are out for the year. I'm going to restore the honor of this family, if it takes my whole life!" With that, Jae stormed from the table and up the stairs, leaving her dinner half eaten. Her last comment had been directed at both him and his father. Matthew could see the pain on Adam's face.

Jae had mixed feeling about Adam, but usually kept them to herself. Matthew's feelings on the issue were that no matter his past, the man had done well by them. The family dinner that had just fallen apart was one example of his commitment to raising them right.

"Ignore her, Dad," he muttered, turning back to his dinner.

Adam had rested his head in his hands at Jae's dramatic exit and stayed that way for a long minute. When he finally raised it, the man looked solemnly at Matthew and asked the last question the young man would have expected.

"Matthew, what is keeping you away from Jenna?"

Matthew stared at his father, wondering why today people just couldn't mind their own business. His father, in particular, usually kept his distance about such things, which Matthew appreciated, even while he knew his behavior was poor in light of his father's respect.

He couldn't answer, though. Like Jae, his father wouldn't understand, although he might try, which Jae never would. The truth of it was Matthew probably would have taken Jenna back had it just been a wild fling. It was what he had learned as a result of that fling that kept him away from her and the rest of the UpMountain.

Shoving the memories that thoughts of Jenna brought to mind away, he responded simply. "I just don't want to see her, Dad. She's not the person I thought she was." And neither am I. He recalled his promise to G and was thankful for a way to change the subject. "Dad, I think there's a portable music player in the attic. Could I use that?"

Adam looked nonplussed for a moment at the sudden change in topic. Then he became sad. Matthew winced internally. He should have guessed it was tied to her. He didn't want to leave his father to face his pain alone and gave him an opening to talk.

"You used to use it with her, didn't you?" It wasn't really a question. Adam, nodded, eyes distant as he remembered a happier time.

"We used to take it everywhere and put on spur-of-the-moment performances. Madam P berated us for it, telling us it ruined our form. But everyone else loved it. She loved it," he finished softly. Sighing, Adam shook his head, and focused on Matthew. "Of course, you can use it. Let me make sure it works. I think I still have some of the discs, too." He looked at Matthew speculatively. "Are you dancing again?"

Matthew just shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought it might come in handy. Thanks, Dad." With that, Matthew retreated to his room for the night.

The next morning found him back on the train DownMountain with the portable player. He was dubious that this ploy was going to work, and chided himself for ever agreeing to it, but figured it wouldn't hurt. If the girl ran off that was that, but he might keep dancing. He found himself nodding at the thought.

When he got to the Towers, G was waiting. "She's there," he said and, clapping Matthew on the shoulder, led him over to base of the first tower. As they went, he provided some basic instruction: not to approach the girl, where she would be in the room, etc. When they arrived at the doorway, he turned to Matthew.

"Thanks for doing this, Mattie. For giving it a try at least." He eyed his friend. "And I want a promise out of you, no matter what happens today."

"What is it G?" Matthew replied warily.

"That you'll come back here tomorrow." Matthew was surprised and touched. Maybe he'd spent enough time wasting his life. His stomach clenched thinking about what he had to go back to. Maybe not. Then again, he was only promising tomorrow.

"Sure G. I'll be here." With that, G instructed him as to the location of the room where the girl was dancing and let him go.

Matthew mounted the stairs and went up 4 stories. Coming out of the staircase, he turned right and walked out onto a wall-less corridor, similar to the one from yesterday, but longer. At the end of it he slowed and paused. The room started just to his left. There was a doorway a few feet ahead, and he could hear a distant shuffling sound. The girl dancing.

He knew that once he went in, he would only have a few seconds before she was gone, if she did run. He prepped the music box so it was ready to play at the touch of a button, and double checked that the sound was turned up.

For a moment he paused, as again the absurdity of the scenario hit him. Trying to get this random girl to stay with what? His dancing? He shook he head. He had agreed. He'd go through with it. He didn't think this would last long. Taking a deep breath he closed the final distance to the door and entered the room.

"Hi, I'm Matthew. I just came to dan-, oh shit!" The last was growled to himself. The girl had started bolting as soon as he spoke. She was fast and was nearly to the door. Pressing play, he put the music box down by the wall, and moved to the open floor. The song he had cued up was familiar, the choreographed piece of ballet was one that he had been doing for years. Once he had enough space for him to move, he began to dance.

It was a complete disaster.

From the beginning, his body didn't respond as he knew it could. His muscles refused to lift him as high as they should, and he actually began to lose his balance on turns. He avoided jumps and leaps entirely, and not just because he was dancing on concrete. He realized, horrified, that he could easily injure himself in the shape he was in.

Nonetheless, he pressed on. He knew the choreography perfectly, a small triumph in light of how badly he was botching the steps. He had thought he was still strong, that he couldn't lose his finesse and skill, but the sharpness of his spins, the lithe balancing, the grace of his promenades was all gone. It was a relief when he came to the end. He balanced between being thankful he was done and humiliation.

His shock was so deep, he momentarily forgot why he was even there. Belatedly recalling the girl, he surreptitiously glanced across the large room.

There she was, trying out steps to the next piece that had come on the box. Acting as if he wasn't there at all, although he was sure she was keeping tabs on him and would bolt if he tried to approach. He didn't, and instead set to stretching and nursing what he knew would be sore muscles tomorrow. He didn't dance again that day and focused on the most basic of drills to rebuild his strength and ability.

Meanwhile, out of the corner of his eye, he watched the young woman dance. His opinion from the day before was unchanged by what he saw. She was well-taught and skillful. Her dancing was more contained, less raw, than it had been before, probably due to his presence.

During some of the songs she just played with steps. Other pieces, all ancient scores, she set into choreography with which she was obviously familiar. Matthew guessed that what he had seen yesterday had been a compilation of choregraphed pieces and free form dancing. He found he enjoyed watching her dance.

Sometime in the mid-afternoon, he checked to find her gone. He panicked for a moment, before realizing that there was little he could do about it except come back the next day.

G met Matthew on the way down and led him into a large common room where several small groups of kids were doing crafts or other projects. A few of the young adults who worked with the kids were sitting around a table, and that was where G led Matthew. Matthew noticed one of the seated individuals, one of the two who had been watching the young woman the day before he thought, gave him a disdainful sneer. The man had tawny skin, marked by large patches of blue, and strong features under his thick curly black hair. Matthew looked away, not caring.

G hadn't said much on the way down, except to comment that it seemed to go well given that the girl had stayed and confirm that Matthew would come back tomorrow. Now, however, the large man smirked a sideways glance at his friend.

"Mattie, I don't mean to be harsh now, but you might want to work on your twirls a bit, or you're not going to get to be the prince in Swan Lake." His postured trying to hide his embarrassment for his friend, and the flood gates opened with G's friends sniggering or all out bursting into laughter.

"You call yourself a ballet dancer?" The young man who had been glaring at Matthew jeered. "She watched you for a total of one second and wrote you off." He hooted with laughter. "G are you sure this guy can help?"

Other friends of G's started to give Matthew 'friendly' advice on how he might improve his dancing, like not losing his balance. One asked, dubiously, if he really was the famous young danseur that all the tabloids had been gushing about last year. A couple days ago, Matthew would have snapped at them and left, but despite his very real embarrassment he found himself shaking his head and laughing.

"Yeah, I was pretty bad. Nearly injured myself. That was probably one of the stupidest things I've ever done. I have no idea why you all stuck around to watch! Guess, you all are none too smart yourselves!"

They laughed some more at him, claiming it had been just too entertaining, then drifted away reenacting parts that had apparently been particularly memorable. Matthew groaned as he sat down in a chair by the wall and dropped his head in his hands.

"It was pretty bad, man." G was giggling. "Best entertainment I've had in weeks, that. No harm you being taken down a few pegs, my precious peacock." Matthew growled and swatted at him half-heartedly. Sitting up and thumping his head on the wall behind him, he determinedly changed the subject.

"So, do you think she'll come back?"

"I'd say if you have that music box of yours, then yes. Otherwise…" He grimaced painfully and started sniggering again. Calming his mirth, he went on seriously. "That was a good start. I thought we'd lost her for a minute there. She left the room." Matthew hadn't realized that. "But the music brought her back. And when she saw you were clearly no, uh, competition," another snort of laughter, "she came back in."

Matthew nodded, thoughtfully. "She pretty?" He didn't know where that had come from. The room they were dancing in was large enough he couldn't have said.

G glared at him. "I told you, don't be getting any ideas," he growled. Matthew held up his hands defensively.

"It was just a question. She's an amazing dancer. I was wondering, if I do get through to her, how do you plan to help her? Without a pass card, there's not much more you can do for her. I mean, if she's not registered and doesn't want to be…"

G glanced around before answering, "Mattie, be quiet about that. There's a couple of the gang that work here who suggested she came from outside, but most think she's just lost her way in life. It happens pretty frequently in the Sewers, and…the explanation makes things less complicated. I've been letting people believe what makes the most sense to them." Matthew nodded, not really caring.

G kept his voice quiet as he answered the original question, again glancing around to make sure no one was close. "I still have Tara's pass card. Never bothered to turn it in, and they've gotten lazy about tracking them down. They don't key the death into those. She can have that. Administration is so lax down here, I'm sure I can get the name changed. No one will ever care, anyway. Especially since she is a mutant."

"How do you know that?"

"She's has occasionally asked people questions before disappearing. They said she spoke perfectly."

Matthew wrinkled his brow.

"Then, maybe she did grow up here," he pointed out. G just shook his head and doubled down on his position.

"I've never seen her around, and I pay attention. And…it's what my gut is telling me." He slapped his large midsection. "It hasn't been wrong yet." Matthew snorted, but accepted his friend's dubious confidence.

"If you're right, she has the ability to pick up languages," he murmured. The language of people coming off the Wasteland and that in the Montagne were cousins – similar grammar and words, but pronunciation differed quite a bit. It wasn't difficult to learn one language knowing the other, but it did take a bit of time to get fluent. "That makes things a lot easier."

"But wait to talk to her. Let her get use to you first," G cautioned.

"Sure. Hey, I should get going. See you tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow." With a fist bump, this time free of superstitious phrases, Matthew headed back home.

Over the next three weeks, Matthew's life settled into a pattern, not so different from what it had been before, but decidedly better. He woke, traveled DownMountain, and went up to the 4th floor of the Towers.

He didn't dance. Instead, he focused on building back his strength, flexibility and balance. He spent hours rotating through repetitive exercises, scouring his memory for every one he had done over the years. As his strength grew, he attempted some more challenging moves, but still did not dance full pieces.

And, of course, he watched the female dancer as well as he could without being obvious. Overall, he was pretty content with how he spent his days.

The third day he went, the young woman didn't show.

"She's not coming." Matthew turned to see G coming in through the door closest to him. There were several doors that led out of the room.

"Does she do this a lot?"

"Every few days. But if she is not here by now, then she won't be here for the day. That's her pattern." Matthew found himself slightly disappointed. "So, you're mine today." He looked up at G in surprise.

"What?"

"You're going to join us downstairs. There are a few kids curious about dance. I might have signed you up to teach a class or two." Matthew protested that he was no dance teacher, which G ignored as he led them downstairs.

Matthew had had some idea that G had turned the abandoned Towers into a hangout for youth. That day he learned his friend had done that and far more.

G had turned the Tower's into a safe, lively and productive center for kids and young adults. It wasn't just a spot to pass the time. G had people in to teach the kids whatever they would learn, and not just school subjects, practical subjects as well. Fixing things, how to purify water as the DownMountain water supply was not the most reliable, how to grow plants in pots, and dry and preserve food. There was also some art, music, sports activities and physical fitness.

Matthew learned that some mutant kids were able to get instruction on their powers, provided G could find a knowledgeable adult with the time. The Montagne made a big deal about the mutant powers UpMountain, and all youth there were given training specific to their abilities but neglected to provide mutant children DownMountain with the same opportunities. G was filling in those gaps the best that he could.

That day was a Holday, the one day when school was out each week, and the Tower was filled with kids. While he wasn't comfortable with being a teacher, Matthew did acquiesce to showing the kids who were interested some introductory ballet. The basic positions, plies and pointing their toes. They used a few chairs in place of a barre. The kids were disappointed that they weren't soaring across the room, so at the end Matthew let them leap and spin as they pleased to the music on his device.

"Thanks for doing that, Mattie." The two 'classes' had ended, and Matthew was again hanging out with G and a couple of his cohorts. He recognized Tray, with her short-cut blue hair and tan skin, from the first day G had brought him, and had just met Bright. Bright was a shy non-binary who was almost finished with school and only came in the afternoons and on Holdays. Their round figure gave their face a charmingly cherubic look, and they had deep brown skin, and wooly black hair pulled into tight braids.

Tray had completed school with G a year earlier. In both cases, their work at the Towers kept them from being roped into long hours at the production units.

"I just hope I didn't teach them too many bad habits." He eyed Bright and Tray curiously and felt them watching him as well. They would know a fair amount about him, but he knew next to nothing about them. No one offered to fill in the gaps. "This place is impressive, G." His large friend waved off the compliment.

"Just pulling together people with too much time on their hands." He gave Matthew a pointed look which Matthew ignored.

The young man with the spots on his skin came over. Again, he gave Matthew a look of unwelcome.

"What's up, Patches?" G asked.

"Some kids want a pick-up game of football. We need two more people." He eyed Matthew, a challenge in his eyes, but G redirected his interest.

"Tray and Bright here appear to have nothing to do." Tray was game but Bright objected.

"I just finished tutoring math. It's my break!"

"I need to have a heart to heart with Mattie here. Out." G's order brooked no resistance, and Bright reluctantly heaved their self from the large blocks they had been using as a seat. Once the two had left, Matthew looked at G curiously.

"Mattie, what are you doing staring at them like that?"

"What? I've just met them. I was just trying to get a sense for who they are and…what they can do."

"You're trying to figure out their mutant abilities." Matthew opened his mouth to object, but then thought better about lying.

"Maybe. UpMountain, everything is out in the open if you care to know." He felt himself getting defensive. It made him uncomfortable not knowing what they could do.

"Yeah, we all know that," G said dismissively. "You know, they don't necessarily have mutant abilities." Matthew looked at G in surprise to find the man watching him closely. "Don't like that, do you?" Matthew blinked. It did make him uncomfortable. More uncomfortable than not knowing their mutant abilities. G shook his head. "They really got to you. We didn't always used to think like that, you know."

Matthew was familiar with his friend's opinion about the Montagne's core beliefs. It was one of the reasons they had grown apart over the years. He found the distance between them bothered him more now than it had in the past.

"It makes a difference; whether you are a mutant or not, and how powerful you are," he argued. These were all well known facts UpMountain.

"Not to me, it doesn't. Unless you are planning to use your abilities to gain power or to control, use or hurt people. Those last three are usually synonymous, by the way." He gave Matthew a sharp look, which was returned with one of disgust. "Maybe you're looking to go down in the annals of history along with Magento?"

Matthew winced at G's blatant use of the potent name. Sure, he was the man who had founded the Montagne, and was said to be their savior. He also had a terrifying reputation; history had it that he had been little more than a tyrant in the building of the mountain refuge.

"It's arbitrary, Mattie," G continued, "like you being good at dance. Or, well, so they said." G coughed, and Matthew looked away in annoyance. "It's just something that you happened to be good at. It might affect who you become in your life, but it doesn't define who you are. Unless you let it."

Matthew didn't say anything for a minute as he considered what G said. He shook his head. "It makes a difference," he reasserted, "It makes me uncomfortable not knowing." G sighed.

"Most people here feel that their status as a mutant is personal, assuming the mutation is not obvious. Revealing to someone whether you are a mutant or not, and your powers is a sign of a close friendship. So, make some friends." He peered closely at Matthew's face. "That doesn't include sleeping with them by the way." Ignoring Matthew's exasperated groan, he went on. "The truth is, word gets around, and people tend to know. But we don't shove it in everyone's face like you do UpMountain."

G walked away at this comment, and Matthew watched him go, discontent. The man had made it clear he wanted Matthew there. It didn't mean he always liked it.

Uncomfortable or not, Matthew came to enjoy his days hanging out with G and his friends and helping out around the center. As weeks slowly passed, he met the rest of what he thought of as G's gang, Scarlet and Hulio. The former had a brash, in-your-face personality to her peers, but was a stern den-mother to the kids who came to the Tower. She was G's second-in-command, and at 21 was the oldest of the group and a year older than G himself. Tall, her skin was relatively pale, and she wore her brown hair shoulder length.

Hulio was personable and laid back and also set to graduate with Bright in a matter of weeks. His tan skin had a subtle pattern of scales on it. Matthew got along with him the best. He was apparently a very talented singer. Beyond that, Matthew had no idea of either his or Scarlet's abilities.

With the exception of Patches, they seemed curious about him, and engaged him in conversation or included him in activities when he was there. Patches continued to glare at him. He was also still in school, like Bright, but came every afternoon. Whenever there was an activity where he could best Matthew, he tried to draw the man in, and his overall demeanor was standoffish. The second week in, Matthew asked G about it. His friend coughed uncomfortably.

"Don't mind him. He objected to my bringing you in. What did he say?" G leaned back with a grin, "Ah yes, he said you weren't really a suitable person to be helping young women in distress." G chuckled and Matthew gave him a flat look.

"But I'm the only one who she hasn't run away from."

"Well, he's also a bit…jealous."

"Jealous? Of what?" There were a couple answers that came to mind for Matthew. None of them were what came out of G's mouth.

"Well," G thought again, "because she didn't run away from you." Matthew sensed G didn't like this topic and was purposefully trying to be vague.

"Um… why would that make him jealous? Unless…," he gave G a dubious look. "Is he interested in her?" G reluctantly nodded his head.

"I've tried talking to him. He's infatuated. Hopefully, it will pass." Matthew felt surprisingly protective of the young dancer, and also felt that Patches wasn't thinking straight. The next time the dancer didn't show, he sought out time alone with young man.

"Hey Patches." The blue splotched face looked up in surprise. He was 17, a year younger than Matthew who had turned 18 just a few weeks ago in April. In spite of his slight build, he pulled up to his full height and held himself defensive as the customary look of distrust entered his eyes.

"What do you want, Summers?" Matthew gritted his teeth at the unfriendly tone but held his temper.

"I heard about your interest in the dancer upstairs. She's pretty amazing to watch, isn't she?" The young man didn't take to his friendly tone.

"You don't have to be a famous dancer to see that." He turned back to the bowls he had been collecting from a table.

"Look, it's just that, I get the feeling you're interested in more than her dancing." Patches ignored him completely. Matthew soldiered on. "But you've never spoken with her. None of us have. We have no idea what she is actually like. I just wanted to caution you a bit."

"What, so you can have her all to yourself?" The angry comment had been accompanied by a look of pure disgust. "I know what you'd do with her. Yeah, maybe you are helping a bit, but just remember, she's one of US. Keep your hands off her!"

"Helm and Hellfire, kid! What are you going on about?"

"Oh, come on! You're just a rich UpMountain playboy, looking for a good time. Well, go get one somewhere else!"

"Hey, I'm doing this for G! I want to help her!"

"Well, get on with it, and then leave." Bowls forgotten, Patches was in Matthew's face, his own twisted in disgust and anger.

"Look, I was just trying to look out for you! And her! If you want to go get your heart broken, kid, have fun."

Matthew kept clear of Patches from then on.

Another bit of friction came when G got around to asking how Jae was doing. When Matthew had started coming to the Towers, he had made some joke that Jae was stubborn and obnoxious but otherwise doing well. He had been relieved at the time when G had accepted the joke as a decent status report. Eventually, however, she came up again.

"So, is Jae getting high on being raised with the gods, too?" That was one of the ways G referred to Matthew's UpMountain life.

"She was even younger than I when we got here. It's all she knows." G nodded.

"It was the same for Tara, but at least she was raised in a place where people remember what their hearts are for." Matthew took exception to that.

"Hey, Adam's done well by us. You can't fault him for anything."

"Taking in two young strays—powerful strays. Hmmm." Matthew got ready to give G a piece of his mind, but the large man cut him off. "So, what does she do with her time, other than school?" Deciding against the argument he had been about to start Matthew hedged his answer.

"She's into sports. Really good at basketball. For a while she was thinking she might try to go professional."

"Anything else?"

"Just hangs out with her friends…"

"Matthew, you are a terrible liar."

"What? She's a high school student. What else should she be doing?"

"Yeah, but I know you, and I can tell there is something you don't want to tell me. Spit it out." Matthew sighed. He closed his eyes against G's reaction to his next statement.

"She's joining the military."

"WHAT?! By the Strength, NO! Oh, this is the worst thing that has happened since Tara died. Really? Please tell me this is some sick, terrible joke, Matthew. A pathetic attempt to get me back for all the zingers I throw at you. Not my fault you make yourself such an easy target…" His attempt to bring the topic back to the humorous was derailed as Matthew spoke again.

"She's starting with the summer cadet training program." G's face fell, and Matthew thought the man would cry. Then his face twisted in anger.

"She's going to become one of those twisted bastards, coming down here to make our lives hell." It wasn't unusual for small bands of low-level military personnel to visit the Sewers under the guise of providing assistance. The visits were a long-standing tradition originating from raids seeking out non-mutant humans hiding there. While those humans were technically allowed in the Montagne now, the visits continued. Matthew had seen those groups and noted that no one in the Sewers went to them for help.

Nonetheless, Matthew couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as he watched his friend's nostrils flare and lips twist. G's anger felt extreme. Given the shaky ground they were already on, Matthew didn't say anything.

The large man got up and paced for a minute, after which he seemed back to himself. He didn't ask about Jae again.

The days at the center were in the minority, however, as anytime the dancer was there Matthew was upstairs dancing as well. Sticking to stretching, strength building and practicing specific moves and sequences, his strength, flexibility and grace slowly returned.

The young woman continued to be wary of him, and he didn't try to approach or speak to her again. He had the impression that she tolerated him, but at the slightest sign that he wanted anything more from her, she would bolt. The fear, that G shared, was that she wouldn't return.

The days fell into a pattern. When Matthew came in the morning, and she was already dancing, then she would be there for the day. They danced for the morning, then took a break on opposite sides of the room. Matthew brought food, and she pulled out a couple of snack bars along with the metal water bottles she always kept with her. G and the others were leaving the bars for her, and she was taking them. G suspected she had been stealing prior to his efforts to draw her out. She was painfully thin. Matthew started leaving packaged food behind as well and was glad to see it disappear.

After the lunch break and a short rest, they returned to dancing, and sometime mid to late-afternoon she would disappear. Matthew went downstairs at that point, and usually left to return UpMountain. He found the days relaxing, and more satisfying than the months he had spent wandering the DownMountain, hanging out at the gaming shacks or playing pick-up sports games.

Being focused on dancing again energized him, and watching his fellow dancer, albeit surreptitiously, renewed his love for the art. He was impatient to dance again himself but was careful to pace his training. At the end of the three weeks after working up from small steps to leaps and short choreographed segments, he finally felt confident that he could perform a piece without embarrassing himself.

He had received a lot of ribbing over his failed performance, and the day before he intended to dance he mentioned it to G on his way out.

"Going to try again, eh? Fix your damaged reputation before the tabloids get whiff of it? I'd hate for you to only be known for ONE non-mutant talent, as delicious as it is…" The mumbled comment earned a cuff from Matthew.

"Looking forward to it, Summers," Patches added from the next table over, a nasty edge to his comment.

"Oh, can I put in a request?" That was Scarlet. "Hmmm, what's a really sexy ballet?" Alarmed by the look she gave him, Matthew hastily said he had to get home and left the conversation that drifted out behind him as he went.

"Carmen," Tray provided.

"That's an opera not a ballet," Hulio corrected, "And it's the woman, not the guy, who does the dance."

"Well, then, it's damn well time that was fixed…" came Scarlet's strident reply. Matthew gladly hurried out of earshot and was relieved when he didn't encounter any of them as he entered the Tower the next morning.

The dancer was there however, and after a brief warmup, Matthew cued the music box to the right location on the disc and moved himself into position.

He reflected on the piece he had chosen. He had first danced it at age 12. At the time, it had been significantly more challenging than the previous pieces he had learned. Madam Pietrovich, his dance teacher, had given it to him as a sign that his dancing was not just a childhood hobby, but that he had real potential and she intended to see that he met it as long as he met his end of the bargain and kept striving to be the best he could.

He felt a spike a guilt at failing to keep that unspoken promise these past months, but then pushed that feeling aside and instead recalled the pride and sense of accomplishment he had felt the first time he had completed the piece. Madam Pietrovich had praised him, a rare occurrence and all the more significant for that. The music started, and he danced.

It felt wonderful. More, it felt right. He glided, he soared, and he loved it. He was once again the young man described as the best young male dancer of his generation as he reveled in his own ability. Leaps, spins, glides, he had it back. Not at the level he had been at 6 months earlier, but respectable, and he knew he would reclaim his previous mastery. The choreography was second nature to him, allowing him to focus on making improvements where he could. When he landed the final pose and the music faded, he grinned with satisfaction, and allowed himself to peer across the room out of the corner of his eye.

She was watching him. He couldn't tell her reaction from her posture, but she was not dancing and he guessed she had been still for some time. He turned his head in her direction, still smiling, but she quickly turned away and positioned herself for the next song. Matthew watched her for a moment, before turning away himself and setting back to stretching while he decided what he would work on next. He found that catching her attention proved to be just as satisfying as regaining his acumen in dance.

CITADEL 3020.06.01

DAVE

"Come on, Dave. Let's go."

Dave Kelly bristled at his mother's tone: impatience tinged with disgust. She had caught him on his way out and insisted on coming with him. He did his best to ignore her and stood staring at the small box sticking out of the wall in front of him. It was one of thousands of squares in front of him. Some were sealed with engravings on them, but most weren't. Only the fact that it protruded out from the wall made this one distinguishable.

Boxes like this were the cheapest method of burial. He felt his own wave of disgust towards his father. Couldn't the man have done something more?

Pushing the angry thought away, and he focused once more on the box. It was empty. His father had told him that. The bodies hadn't been recovered, and there had been nothing to cremate. There was no question that they were dead, however.

He tried to remember a prayer he could say. His church attendance had always been minimal, and more recently traumatic. Now, when he wanted to memorialize someone he loved, he found had no words. He was as empty as the box. Tears of frustration pushed at his eyes. He tried to remember what it had felt like to be in her arms.

Another exasperated sigh from his mother threatened to release his anger again. Then, he heard her footsteps walking away, and took his chance.

Determination replacing all else, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a cloth package. Holding it in one hand, he carefully folded it back so that only he could view its contents.

A pair of earrings, like delicate cascades of silver filaments and a matching necklace where the filaments made a serrated pattern along the bottom of the shining oval. An image of her wearing them came to mind and suddenly his heart ached and tears leaked from his eyes. He wiped them away quickly, not wanting to hear the comments they would bring from his mother.

Taking out a key, he opened the box and placed the jewelry, once again hidden in the fabric, within. He locked the box and pushed it back into the wall. Later it would be sealed with a stone.

He allowed himself another moment before he turned and walked away. He mother fell into step beside him, and upon seeing his face, made a noise of dismay.

"Really, Dave. This is unseemly. I hold myself partially responsible. I never thought your father would let you get so close to that…girl." She gave a sigh of disgust. "You'll see in time that it's a blessing she is gone." Another swell of anger threatened. He pushed it down and thought about the box.

After he returned the key, they left the building and got in the electric transport, the sort only the wealthiest in the city could afford to use. Moving without a driver, it started down the narrow street, and soon turned onto a broad boulevard, heading to its preprogrammed destination.

He looked out the window for the short trip back to his mother's townhouse. She was talking again, trying to reason out his behavior.

"Dave, I thought you would understand from our society how badly your father failed us." He glanced at his mother and saw her lips twist in disgust. "I trusted him." This was said in a quieter tone and pained. Dave looked away again. He didn't care. "The sooner you stop mourning for …" His mother's lips twisted and couldn't even finish the sentence. "She should never have existed," she said instead.

At that comment, Dave felt his anger turn to hatred. He allowed himself a bitter moment of triumph. If she knew how close he had been to the girl in question, she would disown him. If she knew the girl had been a mutant, she would no doubt destroy her husband for the risk to which he had exposed them all. For a moment Dave found perverse pleasure in the idea of his father's downfall at his mother's hands. His hatred for the man still burned hot as well. Then he let it all go and said nothing.

At the townhouse, they descended from the transport and it drove away automatically. While his mother started ascending the steps, Dave stopped at the bottom, his fingers reaching for the earring he always wore in his left ear. He hadn't been able to put that in the box, though he had considered it. She turned back, noticing his absence.

"Aren't you coming?" He looked at her. Living with his father was intolerable at the moment but living with his mother was proving to be suffocating. He couldn't wait for university classes to start so he had a third option.

"I'm going to go for a walk." Her eyebrows went up helplessly. She sighed.

"Don't take long. I'll send Raymond for you." And she would. He assured her he would return soon.

There was a small and mostly private park at the end of the street. The city was dotted with similar green spaces, a few large enough to occasionally lose sight of the tall buildings that dominated the cityscape. It was impossible, however, to lose sight of the Veil, the massive structure that covered the entire city, and kept its residents safe and alive.

This park had a statue in the middle, some memorial to a general of the past who had protected the city when a mutant slipped through the sever monitoring. Martial law had been the rule at that time.

Dave ignored it as he went by, intent instead on one of the sparse benches that lined the back of the park. There, sitting among the plants, he grasped a modicum of privacy. Looking out over the rare and cherished space, green with the spring, he recalled that she had enjoyed going to the parks. At least, that is what she had told him. They had never been able to go together.

His anger, hatred and frustration from earlier came together at that thought, and mindlessly he yelled out loud at the city where he was forced to live. 50 miles squared, contained, covered, and populated by people like his parents, a vestige of humanity. They had condemned his love to death from the moment of her birth. It was a city he wasn't sure was worth living in any longer.

Dropping his head into his hands, he hid the tears that fell, and wondered if he could go on. If he didn't find something other than hatred, anger, pain and despair to fill the emptiness inside him, he didn't think he could.