Indi woke once, briefly, not even opening her eyes. She smelled sulfur, and felt someone holding her before she drifted back into unconsciousness.
When she awoke again, she was laying in a bed. Her right arm was covered by a white plaster cast, and she felt tender and bruised all over. But despite the pain, Indi was warm and comfortable for the first time in three years.
Then she realized that she was blue, and her peaceful feeling disappeared. She struggled to sit up, but was pressed back down by gentle hands.
"It's alright," said a kind female voice. "You're not endangering anyone."
A woman came to stand beside Indi's bed. Indi looked at her hands, then back at the woman. "You're a mutant," said Indi, as if the woman didn't know that already.
"Yes. My name is Jean Grey."
"I'm Indi." She paused, remembering something her owner had said. "You're not mad at me, are you? For what I did?"
"Of course not," said Jean, knowing that Indi was talking about her power. "We both know that it wasn't your fault."
Indi stared up at the woman, not knowing what to say.
"You should rest now, Indi. And don't worry: you're safe here."
Indi felt a slight pressure on her mind, willing her to fall asleep.
"But…" Indi mumbled, not bothering to try to resist her fatigue. "But I didn't…even…pray…"
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It was nighttime when Indi woke for the third time, but the room she was in was lit by the soft glow of a reading lamp. Turning her head, she saw a teenage boy curled up in a chair by her bed. He had fallen asleep reading, apparently, for he held an open book in his lap. Indi stared curiously at him. She remembered him from somewhere, like from a dream.
Before she could figure it out, a man entered the room. At least, Indi thought he was a man, but he was the oddest man she had ever seen. His skin was dark blue, making him almost blend into the shadows, and his eyes glowed yellow in the light. He had strange hands, with only three fingers, and (was it true? Yes, Indi saw it again) he had a tail. Despite his peculiar appearance, Indi wasn't scared of him, because a familiar smell had entered the room with him: sulfur.
"Hello," said Indi softly, not wanting to wake the boy.
The man started slightly, then smiled. "I did not think you were awake," he said. His accent was unfamiliar to Indi. "You are supposed to be resting."
Indi wriggled into a more comfortable position in her bed. "I am resting," she said. She looked at the boy, then back at the man. "Who is he? And who are you?"
"I am Kurt Wagner," To Indi, it sounded like Vahgner. "But I am also called Nightcrawler. This boy is Chris."
"Just Chris?" asked Indi. His name struck her as familiar, just like his face had.
Nightcrawler nodded. "Just Chris. He has no family, and no other name."
"Just like me," said Indi. She stared at the boy again, and suddenly remembered where she had last seen him. He was the boy from the orphanage, the boy who could fix things!
Nightcrawler saw the expression on her face. "You remember him?" he asked.
Indi nodded. "But he was the first…the first one I…they…he was killed!" She sat up straight, which hurt her bruised ribs, and she started to cry.
Immediately, Nightcrawler sat on the bed beside her and held her close. "Hush now," he said soothingly. He hadn't the foggiest idea what he was doing, but he did it anyway. "It's alright."
Indi didn't know how long she cried, but when she finally calmed down, Nightcrawler was still holding her. She couldn't remember the last time anyone hugged her, or showed any affection at all. The two of them sat silently for a while, Indi's small hand holding tightly onto one of Nightcrawler's thick fingers.
Just as Indi began to get tired again, Nightcrawler started to whisper something, more to himself than to Indi. Indi blinked sleepily. His words had a cadence that she recognized. Closing her eyes once more, Indi murmured the prayer along with him, and fell into a very peaceful sleep.
Nightcrawler gently released his finger from the child's grasp, and edged out from beside her. He tucked her back into bed, carefully, so as not to wake her. As he was pulling the blankets up to her chin, the teenage boy spoke.
"Who knew you'd make such a good father?" Chris whispered, standing and stretching his cramped limbs.
"What? No, I was only…" Nightcrawler stopped and glared at the fifteen-year-old. "How long have you been awake?"
Chris grinned. "Long enough." He looked down at Indi and his grin faded. "I can't believe she's really here. She was just a toddler when we got taken. I thought I'd never see her again."
"She will be safe here, Chris. I…we will make sure of it."
Chris nodded. "I know you will." He walked towards the door, than turned back to Nightcrawler. "You'd better get some sleep, Kurt. New fathers need all the energy they can get." With a smirk, Chris left.
Nightcrawler started to go after the boy, hesitated, and looked back down at the sleeping Indi. "Father?" he wondered aloud. He shook his head. Ridiculous. And yet…
Taking one more look at the little girl, Nightcrawler left the room.