A/N: sorry that the last chapter was sad. but it was important for the story line.

Chapter Seven

"Carson, I think that now would be ample time to talk," Kitty said, entering my hospital room. I was making the bed. I was finally allowed to leave.

"I don't want to talk about New York anymore. I'll go to Charlotte and live with my aunt and forget everything."

"That's not what I was going to talk to you about. I think its time I told you the truth."

"The truth?"

"Carson, I'm not here because my dad died. I don't live in New York because my dad died either. My dad isn't even dead. He's alive and well in Illinois. I wasn't actually transferred from New York, either. I came from there but I'm actually not supposed to be at your school but thanks to the professor, no one suspects anything. I'm only supposed to be here as long as it takes to get you to join our group."

"How did you know to come here?"

"The professor is a powerful telepath and he has this machine called Cerebro that amplifies his power. It's how he found you. It's how he found me."

"So basically, you lied to me."

"What? No, I-"

"You didn't come up to me looking for a friend because you were at a new school. You came to me looking for someone to join your- your cult!"

"Carson, it's not a cult. It's-"

"It is a cult. I don't want to join your group. I don't want to be mutant!" I stormed out of the room.

"Carson!" I heard Kitty call from behind me. "Carson, wait!" But I was gone, storming out the doors and to the parking lot. Waiting there, of course, was John.

"With friends like that, who needs enemies?" he said, startling me.

"What are you talking about?" I asked.

"Your little quarrel with Kitty. I totally agree with you. How can you trust someone who can read your thoughts? They're always one step ahead."

"You heard that?" my eyes widened. "How much do you know?"

"I know everything." I turned to run. To run away from Raleigh and this whole mutant business.

"Wait," he said, grabbing my arm. "You don't have to run."

"I've got nothing tying me down here anymore," I said. "I could go wherever I wanted and no one would care." I felt hot tears rolling down my cheeks now.

"Don't cry," he said, wiping away a stray tear on my cheek with his warm thumb. Everything about John was warm, soothing. Almost comforting. "Come with me," he whispered. "Somewhere where you don't have to hide who you are."

"Watch," he said. I found myself in an old warehouse of some sort. I don't know how he expected me to watch when it was completely dark. He silenced me, as I was about to protest. And then, there was a flicker of light. I wondered if he had a match. But then the flame began to dance. Not as if he had breathed on it but as if it was alive. Then it began to move. Then he was holding me by my shoulders with both hands and the flame moved to light his face. He smiled an impish grin, his black eyes staring intently at the dancing flame. And then it was gone in the blink of an eye.

"We aren't so different," he said.

We began to talk about everything. His childhood. And mine. It was great to actually tell someone how I felt when my dad died. He seemed to understand. He didn't push me, telling me that our powers were gifts instead of curses.

"Interesting," I said. "That my father should be killed by water and my mother by fire."

"Yeah," he replied. "It is interesting. But more interesting is that you became afraid of water after your dad died. Why is it that you aren't afraid of me when fire killed your mother?"

"I don't know, exactly," I replied. "You make me feel safe." I knew I was treading water here. But John made me feel safe enough that I could tell him.