Whasssaaap! Haha, I think I have the whole pairings thing figured out. But I'm not telling you who's with who. Because I'm mean. :D

SO SORRY I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN FOREVER! My computer had a busted bezel (I know, WTF right?) and the mouse was jacked up and I had to go out and buy a mouse with my dwindling funds.

My funds are dwindling because I bought myself The Elder Scrolls Anthololgy pack with all of the games for Christmas. ^.^ *cough* addiction *cough*

I would like to send a shout out to the amazeballs people who went and voted. You're the real heroes here, and if it wasn't for you, then we wouldn't have a story because I would lose interest. And also to dreamgirllivi, who messaged me about the pairings. YOU ARE THE REAL MVP MY FRIEND.

And with that, on with the story.

I fidgeted around with the pocket of my hoodie. I'd accumulated a bunch of lint and whatever else, and it was bothering me. "What's your name?" I directed at Hannah, my voice rough-sounding from lack of use. It had been a few hours since my argument with Storm, Logan, and she-who-shall-not-be-named, and we were sitting in the kitchen watching Dr. Grey bustle around.

"It's Hannah. My birth name isn't, but I identify as Hannah."

"Well, what's your birth name, then?"

Dr. Grey glanced uneasily over at She-who-shall-not-be-named. "Well, I don't really remember. I don't remember anything before 1994." I scowled. I'd struck a nerve, I could tell, and so could everyone else. I could cut the tension with my claws.

"Oh." I wasn't going to apologize, as it wasn't my fault and I wasn't sorry for asking, but I did feel bad for the girl. "Well, I remember everything, and I wish I didn't. Oh, let me, would you?" I hissed, leaping easily around the counter. Dr. Grey was fumbling with the stove.

She looked surprised. "You know how to cook?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Dr. Grey, I can cook. I'm damn good, too. My airhead of a mother couldn't tell the difference between her ass and a hole in the ground, but she could whip Aunt Bee's ass when it comes to cooking." At the strange looks I got, I quickly elaborated as I turned the heat up and reached for an egg. "Aunt Bee from Andy Griffith. You know, the iconic 60's television show...?"

I didn't see their reactions, because I was cracking an egg on the edge of the pan on the stove. "Does that mean you were born in the sixties?" asked Victor, the strange man I'd met on the stairs yesterday.

"Oh, ha, no." I didn't explain further, but began to rattle off ways to improve Dr. Grey's cooking techniques. "Now, what you were about to do is this-" I pushed my thumbs into a crack in the egg, and the whites went everywhere. "Don't. It just makes a mess, and honestly, it's probably a lot harder. Here, deary, try it like this next time." I gently tapped the egg against the edge of the stove. A hairline fracture appeared, and I tapped the other side, holding both ends. Then I held it over the bowl and pulled the two pieces of shell apart, letting the yolk slide into the pan. I immediately lowered the heat.

"Are you British?"

"What the hell kind of accent is that?"

Hannah was rolling laughing. "She does that when she gets distracted or is cooking. It's great."

I wanted to smack her with the egg shell. "Shut the fuck up. I'm not British, you ass," I directed at Victor. "I'm Irish, there's a difference. Now sit down and shut up. I'm making food." They did. Everyone gathered around the bar and watched me like my siblings used to do when my mother cooked.

"When are you from?" asked Storm timidly. Her eyes followed my movements as I poked an egg with a fork. I laughed.

"Wow, well, we weren't exactly keeping track back then, but I was fifteen when my, uh, feral senses kicked in, and then nineteen or twenty when that crazy woman, Anne, took control of Britain. Well, I'd guess I was born about 1645 or so."

I think Logan shit a brick. "1645?! Jesus, you're a fossil!"

I hissed. "Gee, thanks, you asshole."

Hannah rolled her eyes. "You're, what, three-hundred sixty-something years old? Yeah, um, you're a fossil."

"You're the oldest living person on this planet. Definitely the oldest living feral." I nearly hit my head on the cabinets, I jumped so high. "Sorry, Miss Felix, I didn't mean to startle you."

I waved him off. "I-It's okay, Professor, I'm just a bit jumpy." I prodded an egg with the fork again, and then slid it onto a waiting plate. "There. Perfect over-easy eggs." I plopped the plate down on the bar and let them serve themselves.

"It takes a tremendous amount of brain capacity to retain that many memories. You remember everything, from 1645 to now?" I nodded.

"Mostly. I think I may be remembering Pope Pius the Fourth wrong, though. Didn't he have a wart?" Storm laughed behind me.

Professor Xavier nodded. "Very, very impressive, Miss Felix. Would you mind if Dr. Grey and I ran a few scans? I'd like to see how much of your brain is functioning." I blinked, then glanced over at Dr. Grey. She was looking like she'd cut me open the first chance she got. "The others will be present, of course," he added, and I nodded.

"Well, ah, as long as you don't prod me with random needles." He chuckled.

"Of course not, Miss Felix." He glanced over at the people digging into the eggs. "We can discuss your terms of staying here later, if you'd like. I assume you're hungry, after all you've been through." I nodded. I have a deep respect for this guy, honestly. He gets it.

"Thank you for all this," I replied. He simply nodded and rolled away. I wanted to burst out laughing. It was so dramatic when he just turned and rolled off, like the end of some shitty movie.

But I didn't laugh. I turned around and made more eggs.