Okay, this is my first X-men fanfiction so go easy on me. As a recent fan, I don't know much about the X-universe, only what I've seen in the two movies and managed to glean off the internet. So, to compensate, I've tried to stick to the most basic details about the X-men and not rely too heavily on the movies, which I know have changed lots of things quite a bit. If something seems off to you, please put it under artistic license and try to enjoy my story just the same. If I get good reviews, I'll try to continue this story. If I don't… well, I think I'll still try. But it'll be more fun if I get reviews, cuz then I can make it better. So feel free to offer constructive criticism! D

Diclaimer: I think it's obvious but here we go anyway. The X-men don't belong to me, and never will. The only characters that belong to me are the girl from whose point of view I write (you'll get her name later) and the assorted little people she meets along the way.

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I never thought it would happen to me. I never even thought about it. Sure, I knew about them. They were on the news all the time. Those freaks with weird powers; those mutants.

"Ouch!" I yelp sharply as the subway lurches beneath my feet and the large man standing next to me steps on my toe. I glare at his back, until he turns around and leers at me. Heart pounding, I wisely drop my eyes. This is New York. Better follow the rules of the jungle, or you are bound to get hurt.

Breathing deeply to calm my pulse, my thoughts drift back to me. What was I doing here, alone and totally helpless, home and safety thousands of miles away? Biting my lip, I try to keep the tears from my eyes. This too is a rule of the jungle; tears are apt to be taken as a sign of weakness, and before you know it, you've just been mugged. But it's hard not to cry.

Again, I focus on my breathing, this time to keep my feelings from overflowing. I find my calm center, and the tears fade, but the anxiety remains. Honestly, what can I hope to accomplish here?

I notice than my stop is coming up and readjust the strap of my messenger bag across my chest. The bag barely holds a change of clothes and some toiletries, but I had no choice. I had to pack light.

I get off the subway and sit on a bench, trying t gather my scattered thoughts and formulate some sort of plan.

Ok. Breathe. Breathe. In… hold it… and out. Repeat.

How long I sit there, just breathing in an out, I don't know, but when I open my eyes again I feel better. My breathing exercises were taught to me by my mother… and they're more or less all I have left of her.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a half eaten energy bar and munch on it, distractedly pulling my jacket more snuggly around me against the chill of the night air coming from the stairs leading to the streets above.

Let's review the facts. I am a 16-year old girl. I'm alone in a strange city- heck, in a strange state, and have absolutely no one in the world. I have a little over $40 in change, which has to last me… well, as long as possible. I've been on the road for, oh, about 2 weeks. And let me tell you, that has been more then enough to last me a lifetime. Two lifetimes. Lastly, and probably most importantly of all, I am a mutant.

I close my eyes again, but this time it's because I'm suddenly weary. It still hurts to say it, to think it. I'm a mutant. One of them. A freak. My mutation is… God, I don't even know what it is. I've thought about it many times, but I can't seem to figure it out.

Everyone makes wishes, right? They'll say 'I wish I had a million dollars' or 'I wish I never gained any weight'. Silly wishes, stupid wishes… all kinds. We all do it. Well, I used to make wishes like that too.

And then one day, my wish came true. I won the lottery. It didn't matter that I hadn't bought a ticket, or that I wasn't old enough to play or redeem the prize. I wished that I could win the lottery (I hadn't even been serious), and the next day I found the winning lottery ticket in my jean pocket. I gave it to my mom, she claimed the prize, and that was that. My first official wish.

It was exciting at first. Sometimes my wishes came true, and sometimes they didn't. People started coming to my house, asking to make a wish. And I'd do it. It was fun. Sure, there was no guarantee of success, but their wishes were so good. I wished away three brain tumors (two of them inoperable) and at least ten cases of AIDS. I felt so good.

People called me miracle girl. They called me an angel.

I take another bite of my energy bar without opening my eyes and chew slowly. But people are never satisfied. More kept coming. My mom hired private security to keep the house from being overrun. And still wishes kept pouring in. The more I gave, the greedier everybody got. And as if that wasn't enough, dangerous wishes started coming to me as well. Wishes of revenge and retribution. Of murder and deceit. You'd think people would be embarrassed about wishing about stuff like that to a 16 year old, but they weren't. I wasn't a person anymore. I was an object, a tool to be used. It's not like I was human.

I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to remember it… and I can't. My memory stops abruptly, and picks up two weeks ago, when I found myself in a hotel room in Kansas. From what I can deduce, I made a wish about two weeks ago, my last wish. I don't know what it was, or why I made it, but somehow I know that my mother is gone, somewhere I can't wish her back from, and that I can never return to my old life.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and I spring up, clutching the strap of my back protectively.

"Woah, easy!" says the man who tapped me, hands held in the air and a strange smile on his face. "I just wanted to see if you were ok." He put his hands down, deciding, I guess, that I wasn't going to freak out. "Are you ok?"

I try not to fidget as I shrug. "I'm fine. Just zoned out for a bit." I try to move past him, but he uses on hand to block me.

"Hey, what's the rush? You look like you could use some help…"

My heart hammering against my ribs again, beating so hard I can feel it in my throat and behind my eyes. As Buffy would say, I feel my Spider-sense tingling.

"Nah, I'm cool. Just on my to see my aunt."

The man looks me over, and I notice a calculating quality in his gaze. This man is definitely not someone I can dally with. I watch him under lowered lashes, doing my best not to let on how tense I've suddenly become. He is in his late 30's and he's pretty well-muscled. I'm not quite sure why I feel threatened, but I do, so I decided to trust my instincts. I try to look him in the eyes fearlessly, but I'm afraid, and I think he knows it. Thank god we're not alone in the station.

I try again, my voice persuasive and light. "Sure. I mean, come on. Would someone really travel this light if they didn't have somewhere to go?" I look at my watch, feigning surprise. "And I really gotta go now, or she's gonna kill me. I was supposed to be at her house 20 minutes ago."

I walk past him with authority, and he lets me pass. My guess is either he'll look for easier prey, or perhaps he was genuinely the helpful kind. Even as I consider this thought however, I find myself unable to believe it. In this world, you don't get something for nothing, and that's a lesson no wished memory-wipe can erase.

The cold night air nips at my nose and my fingers, but it feels good going into my lungs. I set off down the street at a brisk walk, stretching my (kinda short) legs. There are people on the sidewalk, so I know it's not too late.

I smile slightly as I hurry along, keeping to the well-lighted streets. Little did that man in the subway station know that I have no idea what time twenty minutes ago I was supposed to meet my "aunt" because my watch hasn't worked since I… left home.

After a few blocks, I hail a taxi and ask the cabby how much it would cost me to get to… I glance at the scrap of paper I've been folding and re-folding nervously for the past week. My hope.

"1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York," I say clearly, my voice only slightly trembling.

The cabby turns around, resting his elbow on the back on his seat. "For you sweetheart, I'll take you there for $60."

My heart sinks, and I bite my lip. "All right. Take me there." I lean back in my seat, but the cabby's short bark of laughter makes me jump.

"Girly, I weren't born yesterday. You look hard up, and for such a long trip, I have to insist on cash first. No money, no ride."

I take the twenty and two tens out of my pocket, smoothing them nervously. I hate my gift, and it hurts to use it. Obviously, my early abuse has strained it more than I can bear. But I have to risk the head-splitting pain if I'm going to get anywhere. I have no choice. As I hand him the bills, I wish that the bills I give him will be $60 instead of $40.

He chuckles and pockets the bills without a word. I let my held breath out slowly and rest my forehead against the somewhat fogged up window. As he pulls away from the curb, I can feel the tension creep up from the back of my brain, and pretty soon my blood is roaring in my ears as an enormous pressure pounds inside my skull. I grit my teeth, making as little noise as possible. Thankfully, the cabby turns his radio on, giving me a little cover.

An agonizing hour later, I start to feel the pain recede. My body is stiff as I force my muscles to unclench. I guess this wasn't my final wish. I smile ruefully as I contemplate the irony of what had just happened. For lack of $20, I had just spent the last hour wondering if it would be my last hour. $20 dollars, for my life.

We're out of the city now, and I can see the stars better. As I look into twinkling expanse, I suddenly feel as if I cannot keep my eyes open. I know I shouldn't sleep, that I should stay awake and make sure he takes me where I need to go, but I can't. My eyes are fluttering, closing, opening, closing… pretty soon I can't open them again, and I know I'm falling asleep.

Finding it hard to care anymore, I hug my bag close to me and let sleep overcome my senses.