Nothing in the world mattered but the point on the wall. Staring at it, Marty could keep advancing little by little, breath held tight. Each step cost her more than she had, but as long as the point on the wall remained . . .

It was a single drop of sweat that betrayed her. Her eyes shut against the salt, the point was lost to the dark; she felt more sweat beading on her furrowed brow, felt the cold metal of supports under her hands, the exhaustion of every muscle as her body tried to work around legs that didn't feel like her own.

Legs that weren't her own. She began to buckle, but hands caught her by her shoulder and waist.

X to the rescue, again. Great.

"Careful now," she said, finding an angle to half-lean-half-sit on one of the supports. "A girl could get used to this treatment. Towel."

She wiped her face and slung the towel over her shoulder, opening stinging eyes to see X's morose face. By all rights, it was identical all his other faces, but she could just feel the moroseness.

"If it's all the same to you, I'd like to take a break."

X checked the clock on the far wall. "You've been at it for an hour. Well done." He moved to held her to the chair, paused with that unnatural rigidity when waved off.

"Don't you have an internal clock?" Marty asked.

"Excuse me?"

"You always check the clock when you want the time."

"Oh. I hadn't noticed."

What was it Doppler had called him? A superior sentience? Superior, sure. Here here is acting like a lost, lobotomized puppy.

Now, that's hardly fair, she thought. What's eating you?

"Thanks for coming by so often. You and Preston are the only guests I get, and there's only so much of him anyone can take."

"Ah, that is . . . Doctor Cain and Doctor Doppler are very busy. They—"

"You're busy, it hasn't stopped you." Even as she spoke, Marty regretted the force behind her words.

"I can sleep through most of the tests," X said.

Well, you've got me there. She fidgeted and her whole body reminded her how tiring it was to learn to walk all over again. She wanted to sit, but just imagining X helping her to a chair irked her.

"Are you coming around so much because you feel guilty? About this?" she pointed to her reconstructed knees.

He said nothing.

"Well don't. I knew the risks going in. Signed up for my own reasons, and I'm ready to live with it. I don't need pity, especially not from—"

He looked down at the floor. Of all the—she sucked in a hot breath, let herself deflate. A laugh escaped her, acid-tinged.

"You can't even lie when it's the obvious right answer. Weren't you supposed to be Mister Slick for thirty-something years?"

"Xavier was not real."

How can you be so sure? The words were just behind Marty's teeth; she held them there for a moment.

"If it means anything, guilt is not my only reason for wanting to see you."

She forced a smile but couldn't meet his eyes, ended up looking at the ceiling. Hot tears formed at the edges of her eyes; by God she still had some frustration about all this she wanted to take out on somebody, but he didn't deserve what she'd already done. "Must be because I'm such great company."

"Yes."

There was no trace of irony in his voice—how could there be?

"You can't mean that."

"I d—" X paused to consider. "When you all first found me, I could not stay awake for very long because the sensory input overwhelmed my atrophied receptors. A few days ago, I was able to function at a human level for sixteen consecutive hours. At some point, I won't need to sleep ever again. But some things are just exhausting by nature, and some things are restful."

Something in his demeanor was different. He had loosened his shoulders slightly, folded his hands in front of him; he wore the neutrality of a man holding his peace, observing. Marty felt a jolt of surprise as though suddenly confronted with a stranger. Then there was the implication left floating in the air.

"All right. I'm sorry I snapped at you. I've had to make do by myself for a long time, so this situation is . . . Yeah. Anyway, when did you pick up an ounce of savvy?"

X was instantly again his stiff self. "I thought about what Xavier would say."

"Doesn't it feel strange?"

"What?"

"Putting on and taking off a whole personality like that. And how do you know Xavier isn't who you should be?"

"If I could be Xavier, it would make many things easier. Xavier knew how his world worked, and this one seems to work the same."

"Then why—"

"Xavier was also utterly deceived by that world. He—I—never once questioned its reality until Otto . . ." He froze entirely. ". . . changed everything."

Otto must have been a good friend, if you'd soften the blame on something like that for him.

"You're scared to get fooled again."

"Yes."

The sound of the clock ticking out tens of seconds.

"But it is strange, to answer your other question. I worry how it will be like for the others."

"What others?"

"The robots that will be put through the upgrade program. There are over three-hundred registered now. If the program's successful, they're going to suddenly have their own wills, but they'll also have memories of a whole life without."

She hadn't dwelt on that thought—enough on her own plate lately—but seen head-on, the depth of the thing was dizzying.

"Have you said anything to the docs about it?"

X shook his head. "Only to you. I will speak to them before the work begins, though. Thank you for listening."

"No problem," Marty said.

"When you—ah, nevermind."

"Hmm?"

"When you're fully recovered, what will you do?"

"Well, on the off-chance that I know something about how you work, the TG folks aren't going to let me leave for six months, until they're sure they've . . . uh, what did Desmond say? 'Secured their market position,' I think." She shrugged. "So you're stuck with me for a while."

"I'm glad."

Even if it came at the cost of charm, Marty had to admit it was nice to hear something so simple from someone so guileless.

"After that, I'll probably go home. I'll have enough money to fund some big undertakings. You know, enough to maybe build something meaningful instead of just blowing things up."

X was opening his mouth when the door swung open to reveal Cain, flanked by a few harassed-looking engineers trying to talk over each other. He silenced them with a quick glare, then turned on the sun beams for X.

"There you are, my boy! Marty, how are you coming along?"

"Slowly."

"But steadily," X added. "She—"

"Splendid. I hope I'll have some time to drop by and catch up with you soon, but right now I'm afraid X is needed in Lab Two. Shall we?"

X blinked, looked back to Marty; she nodded and silently mouthed 'Go.'

"I hope we can resume our conversation soon."

Cain was already talking to him before the door shut behind them. Their voices receded down the hallway, their forms dissipating behind the frosted glass windows. She was alone with the sound of seconds ticking away.

She gathered herself up, gripping the supports tightly, and began putting one foot in front of the other again.