Chapter 1

Back in my dorm, I sat at the stool facing the mirror, chin in my hands. I stared at the reflection in front of me, a light skinned woman with tangled brown hair, brightly inquisitive eyes, and a smudge of dirt across her left cheek. If Logan did like me, which I doubt he did, what did he see?

I picked up my brush and pulled it through the thick tangles of my hair and gasped as it just about wrenched half of it out. I smirked at the pained reflection, which in turn smirked back. After a minute of all out war with my hair, I decided to suffice with a messy ponytail. I cocked my head at the reflection, which looked slightly better, though still dirty.

I turned to the digital clock on the bedside table. In a blink, the clock changed to 2:37 AM. I sighed and looked in the mirror. The reflection looked pitiful.

I brushed off a leaf I found on my small tank top, and turned back to the mirror. I hadn't changed when I had gotten back. The scent of my clothes had had the fresh, crisp scent of the clearing. My only comfort in the turmoil of my mind. Now, looking at the short shorts and yellow top, both old and now smudged with dirt, I decided to change.

I ripped through what was left in the duffel bags, and found my only pair of pajamas. They weren't much. They were both cheap, sky blue cotton, a light pair of capri pants and a top with spaghetti straps that barely went down enough to cover me. I lifted my nose to them hopefully, and was happy to discover that they still had the scent of my apartment; pizza pockets and a glade plug-in. It wasn't a particularly good scent; but it was the scent of home, another small comfort.

I dressed in my comforting smelling clothes and looked back at the clock: 2:48. I flopped back on my bed and tried to get some sleep, though I knew it was useless. I couldn't sleep. Not with the thousands of thoughts that barraged my mind, making it utterly impossible to focus on just one. The thought that Logan might have even the slightest spark of interest in me, was...was a feeling that was completly confusing, arousing, and partially scary all at the same time.

One minute I wanted to jump for joy: He Liked Me! A second later I wanted to throw up: He Liked Me? The next I felt a spark go off in the back of my head: He Liked Me... All rolled and tumbled and thrown around in the back of my mind, a confusing, nauseating thought.

I squeezed my eyes shut. This was too much. I liked tangible dangers; something I could touch and feel and rip to shreds. Something like this conflict, pulling my psyche into a thousand irreplacable bits...it was scarier than Sabretooth or any of the other pychotic mental patients Xavier talked about.

I shouldn't do this. I can't. Couldn't. WON'T! I sprang up. This was too much, being pulled apart. I couldn't stand it; this was not the kind of thing I was adjusted to, and I hate not being able to attack a danger head on.

Fight or Flight kicked in again; I realized there was no way to fight it, so why not choose flight? Being trapped here; cooped up like a canary in a cage, I couldn't stand it! What these people didn't realize was that I wasn't a canary, I was a phoenix. A bright, shiningly proud phoenix aching to spread her wings, but unable to simply because of feeble locks. What I realized right now was just how feeble those locks were; Logan, Xavier, Jean...simply locks trying to tether me here; keeping me in line by confusion, no freedom to speak of.

I loved freedom.

That one thought; They took away my freedom!. I couldn't stand it, and I think that's what made up my mind. I gathered my duffel bags, and shoved my stuff in them, clothes, drumsticks, old cell phone, everything. I was leaving, no doubt in my mind. I was a one track machine. My mind made up. Some people said you couldn't run away from your problems; I beg to differ. I'd run away from a ton of problems before, from the repo man to drunks. No one could say I couldn't run away from this Logan problem too.

Logan. That thought slowed me, but only for a half a second. I was leaving. Now. Before this whole thing got out of hand. I paused at the doors, listening for any sounds. Nothing. Bags slung over my shoulder, I hurridely crept down to where the cars, bikes, and jet were held. No one had ever told me about them, but I could sense the engine exhaust of a bike a mile away.

Once in the garage,( or whatever this was), I looked around. There was a bike here, I was sure of it. My gaze gliding across the cars, gleaming and glistening as if they had just been bought, and I saw it. It was sleek black, aerodynamic it looked like. I admired it for a minute. This made my old bike look like a pile of scrap, which I guess it was. Now at least. My mind flitted back to Sabretooth; with enough power to smash my bike to smithereens. I growled. I was not letting anything, not even Sabretooth deter me. I slung one leg over the bike and got a good stance. The leather felt great against my skin. I leaned in and breathed in the smell; polish and gas. I was in my own personal Nirvana.

I slung my bags securely over my shoulders again, and started the bike. It was quiet, but there definetly was an engine going, purring like a lion content, staring at helpless prey. I felt the familiar rush of power again, and for the first time in a week, Freedom. I rushed forward the garage door, the engine now a lion's roar rather than purr. The door slid open automatically, letting me gain access to the road. I felt wind pushing against my face, the bike vibrating violently, the engine roaring louder than ever. As I raced through the iron bars, I felt free. The phoenix had spread her wings and flown away.

Logan immediatly threw himself out of bed. This time, it wasn't a dream that awoke him. It was the sound of a roaring motor. It was definetly from the garage, he could tell. As he heard the scuffle of footsteps outside his door, he knew Jean and the others could tell too.

He ran out the door, and saw Jean and Storm racing down the stairs, Scott was coming out the door to his room as well. He followed them to Xavier's study, where the professor spent most his hours. Rushing into the room after Jean and Storm, Scott following close behind, Logan saw Xavier, his chair turned away from them, looking through the window. The faint glimmer of a motorcycle light was in the distant road.

"My God, she's gone." whispered Xavier horsely. Logan thought he saw something move in the trees near the road. The professor seemed to notice it too. "We need to get her before Magneto does. Jean, Storm, come with me, Scott, keep look out. And Logan..."

Logan realized what Xavier wanted. Gruffly, his mind spinning, he grimaced.

"Fine. I'll get her."