Graduation was days away. Zira Moran laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her curvy form was dressed in a baggy t-shirt and jeans. Waist-length silver hair laid loose underneath her as silver eyes stared at the cracks in the tiles above her. Outside, she could hear some of her friends playing ball or exercising. Even here, at a school for people who were different, she was a social outcast.

Unlike many of her classmates at the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, she had little to no control over her powers. Most of the time, they only showed themselves under extreme duress, usually when training in the danger room. This had led to her being taken off of every single team combination, and put with the younger kids who were just learning.

While Zira had figured out that she loved teaching younger mutants, she still wished that she could exude the control that she was trying to help them achieve. She had even gone so far as to have private lessons with Professor Xavier, where he even dove into her mind to try and find something that would help her gain control without being put in danger. Nothing had helped. A few days ago, he asked her for a blood sample and sent it down into the lab to be tested to find her mutation in her DNA.

"Hey kid," a gruff voice called, accompanying a knock on the door. Zira looked to her right and saw Logan standing there. Used to being an outcast among his own, he had taken the younger girl under his wing and had essentially become a second father to her. She sat up and observed him. He was wearing his usual leather jacket over a wife-beater, and blue jeans with leather boots. His face was serious, but his eyes were warm. "Professor wants you to come to his office," he continued. "Your results are back." Zira heaved herself off the bed and fixed the baggy navy blue t-shirt and jeans she was wearing, sliding on a pair of black flip flops.

"Thanks, Logan," she said, moving for the door. He didn't move. Instead, he looked at her, cocking an eyebrow.

"You nervous?" he asked.

"Nervous that my life since the age of 5 has been a lie?" Zira asked wryly. "Of course not." She tried to slip past him, but he stood up straight, his large form blocking her path.

"Hey," Logan said. "It's gonna be okay. You know that the Professor wouldn't just kick you out. He'll help you in any way he can." He put his hands on her shoulders and forced her to look at him. Her silver eyes locked with his brown ones.

"And what if he can't?" she challenged. "There isn't exactly a win-lose situation. Either I'm a mutant that is complete shit at controlling her powers, or I'm the very human definition of a freak. I can't win, Logan, no matter what." She sighed. "I just want an answer, not more questions." Logan sighed and pulled her into a hug. Zira took in his scent of leather and cigars. It had been a source of comfort to her, as he was when she arrived at the mansion.

Zira was orphaned at five years old when her mother died of a massive aneurysm. Multiple small ones in her brain had ruptured all at once, and the doctors had been unable to save her. Zira's father, according to her mother, had abandoned them when she was a baby, so Zira had no memory of him, nor did she have any interest in a man who didn't see fit to be a part of her life. When her mother died, Zira had a fit, almost destroying the hospital, giving her her now-natural silver eyes and hair, and resulting in her placement at the Xavier Institute. Logan stepped in as a father figure after being more or less adopted by the distraught five-year-old. He rose to the occasion, especially after she grew frustrated during training one day and almost leveled the mansion. Logan taught her how to release her anger in healthier ways, and appreciated her cynical humor and realistic - albeit bleak - outlook on life.

Now, at a pinnacle point in her life, she needed him more than ever. He was proud as hell to see her graduate but was just as worried as she was about the test results. The young adult now felt a little more relaxed being in her surrogate father's embrace, but the nerves were still there.

"It's gonna be okay," he assured her. "I'm here for you, no matter what." Zira smiled into his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thanks, Logan," she said. They pulled back from each other, and Logan gave her a grin, which she returned with a crooked one of her own.

"Anytime, kid," he replied. "Right, let's get this over with." The two of them walked down to Professor Xavier's office, and before Zira could even knock on the door, the professor's baritone voice called for them to come in.

Charles Xavier sat behind his gorgeous wooden desk, his wheelchair looking like a normal chair. His wise-looking brown eyes sparkled when he saw Zira and Logan enter, and he gave them both a warm smile.

"I wondered if you were going to come with her, Logan," he said as they both sat down.

"Moral support," was all the answer Logan gave. Charles nodded and slid a manilla folder toward Zira.

"You haven't looked at it yet, Professor?" she asked, slowly pulling it toward her.

"I thought you should be the first," Charles replied. Zira nodded slowly and opened the folder. Her eyes scanned the results, her face emotionless as she took in the information. After a moment, she closed her eyes and handed the results to Logan, not looking at anyone. Logan took the folder from her and read it.

"She's human," he said softly. Charles took the folder back from Logan and read the results for himself.

"It would certainly seem that way," he agreed, putting the folder down. "However, this doesn't explain her abilities. We've tried everything to unlock what's holding you back, but nothing we've tried works."

"So I'm just a freak," Zira said sadly.

"You're not a freak, Zira," Charles said kindly. "Everyone's abilities are different, and everyone has their own vices they must work through. I'm not the person to help you, but I believe I know someone who might." That made Zira look up, her silver eyes sparkling with hope.

"Who?" she and Logan asked at the same time. Charles smiled.

"He should be arriving any minute now," he said. Suddenly, a circle of orange-gold sparks formed near the far wall of the office, and a man stepped through it. He was dressed in a thick blue tunic, with a huge gold medallion around his neck. A red cape was attached to his shoulders, and a thick leather belt adorned his waist. Zira's eyes, however, were locked on his face. Despite the facial hair and stripes of gray above each ear, those serious green eyes were eyes that she would never forget for as long as she lived. She jumped out of her chair and backed away from the man.

"Sorry I'm late, Charles," the man said. Logan had jumped up too, fists clenched, ready to extend the adamantium-coated claws that came from his knuckles.

"Thank you for coming," Charles replied. "Zira, Logan, this is..."

"Dr. Stephen Strange," Zira said.