A/N:Thanks to everyone who's commented, and also thankyou to the people reading further than the first chapter. Hope you enjoy this chapter, but if you don't let me know. I need to know what not to do if I want to survive here, so every comment helps.

Enjoy!

"But Hank," the boy pleaded. "It wasn't like that! I was just giving her a tour of the holding cells."

I didn't make any attempt to hide the huge snort of disbelief which had escaped me. I was standing next to my new favourite fuzzy, blue doctor and wasn't planning on leaving his side for a while.

Some of the people in this place were freaks.

"Bobby, I advise that you never try to begin a career as a tour guide." Dr. McCoy was acting like this was a common occurrence, which sort of worried me. "I don't know about you, but most people would think that locking someone in the high security holding cell and refusing to let them out until they divulge all of their darkest secrets is NOT an acceptable way of leading a tour."

I stuck my tongue out at the older boy. By all means he should be a man by now, but what can I say; he just never grew up.

He scowled at me and looked like he was about to retaliate. Dr. McCoy must have seen it all brewing because he cut in before Bobby could say anything, stepping forward a little bit, and effectively creating a wall between us.

"Now, Bobby, if you'll be so kind as to please show Seven to an area where she actually CAN get changed."

Bobby was evil. You could see it in his eyes. It was only a matter of time before he snapped and killed everyone around him.

The mentally five year old turned to look at me with a huge grin stuck firmly on his smug little face.

"Of course," he said just a little TOO sweetly. "I'd be glad to show Seven where to go."

I instantly jumped closer to my fluffy body guard, both my hands snapping up and clutching onto the doctor's arm, pulling it in front of me for more protection.

Dr. McCoy sighed deeply.

"On second thoughts, perhaps I should escort her." He rolled his eyes. "If not to make sure nothing bad happens, than certainly because I'm unable to pry her off my arm."

I felt far more relaxed after Dr. McCoy showed me where the girl's bathroom was. I had a shower and got into some clean clothes and headed downstairs feeling much less gross on the whole.

I was also very proud of the fact that I only wandered through two wrong hallways on my return trip to the lounge/bed room.

I clipped the door firmly behind me and glanced over at Aisha, who was sitting on her bed exactly where I left her half an hour ago.

"Hey."

"Howdy," came the reply. It was a moment later as I was putting my dirty clothes back in my bag that her thoughts finally caught up with her mouth.

"What took you so long?"

I tensed up a little just thinking about it.

"DON'T ask." I warned.

"O… k?" Oh good. She wasn't one of those annoying people who don't know what 'don't ask' means.

My hair was still wet from the shower, so I tried tying it up in a ponytail before it could soak the shoulders of my t-shirt. Tried but failed; my shoulders were pretty well saturated.

"You like Charming Line?" I was slightly startled when the question was flung at me. I looked down at the multi-coloured face of Imogene Tykes standing out from the plain black of my t-shirt.

"Yeah, you know them?" They weren't exactly the most well known band in the world.

She grinned, a far more genuine smile then the kinds I'd been giving to people all morning and nodded enthusiastically. "I had the same shirt but in blue."

"Seriously? Oh yeah- dah; you can't lie. What's your favourite song?"

Don't worry; I'll spare you the boring details.

After who knows how long we were both sitting cross legged on her bed with the wrappers from all the foods I'd brought in lying in an untidy pile in between us.

"So, what's your mutation?" she asked fairly out of the blue, casually picking some of the sugary food from her teeth.

I felt that now familiar sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach again. I'd been enjoying having a normal conversation for once. Without anything to do with mutants and without anyone offering me a shoulder to cry on or advice on how to deal with my new lack of family.

But I didn't want to drag the conversation down with me into the depths of moodiness, so I sucked it up and answered anyway.

"My body is basically rejecting my bones and forcing them to the surface because it thinks I need protecting." I presented her with my flaky forearm where the bone was coming through. "See?"

She barely even glimpsed the offending limb before she looked away and held a hand up to say that she got the point.

I rolled my eyes (I figured I was safe to because her eyes were still closed) and put my arm down again. I began fishing through an empty chip packet looking for any crumbs that might be left.

"But wait," her voice came again. I think she must've plucked up the courage to open her eyes, considering that she was now looking at me again. "If your mutation is only just coming out, then you must be pretty fresh. When did you find out?"

I scowled. Half because of the question, half because I couldn't find any more food.

"I dunno. I kind of had suspicions for a while, but I only found out for certain this morning."

She winced. "Man, that's gotta be rough. When I first found out, there wasn't near so much pressure as you're getting."

"Well, how long have you known about your mutation then?" Up 'till now I'd just figured she must've been a mutie-newbie just like me.

It surprised me when she had to pause and think about it. "Must be about four years now."

And she was about a year older then me, so she would've found out when she was, like, 13.

"Then how come it's taken you this long to get chased out of town by an angry mob?" I couldn't help but be a little jealous. I was kicked out five minutes into my new social status, and she got four years? How the hell was that fair?

"Well, I lived with my dad, see," she started off strongly. The way she spoke made it seem like she wanted to appear like she was fine with everything, but her honesty complex must've been working against her, because I could see she didn't like the memory.

"He didn't really care about—well, anything, I guess. My mum was the one who wanted to have kids and when she died, he just stopped giving a crap." Again she tried to appear like she didn't care, but I noticed her averting her eyes and fiddling with her socks.

"As long as he got to do his thing, I'd get to do mine. That was sort of the deal. Trouble was, 'his thing' had a lot to do with gambling. If I messed up one of his poker games, I was screwed." She attempted to make this seem like a joke and even threw in a smile, but it still didn't seem quite real. "Anyway, one day, he and his work buddies were playing poker and I was asked to bring in a new round of beers. My mutation hadn't really been a problem before, so Dad hadn't minded, but when Dad finally found himself unable to bluff, there were… consequences."

There were far too many silences within the last two days for it to be considered normal.

"But I thought you got beaten up and left for dead by the F.O.H." It took me a while to realise that the words had come from my mouth.

Damn it! I need to get my jaw padlocked shut or something.

"Nah." She laughed bitterly. "It was Dad. He got pretty angry about the whole poker thing, and we were arguing and eventually things just got out of hand and he pushed me. He didn't mean to really hurt me or anything; I just fell and hit the bench on my way down." I was surprised how quick she was to jump in and defend him after what she'd told me.

She turned and pulled her hair out of the way to show me the spot at the base of her skull where there was now a fairly nifty bruise as well as a pretty deep split in the skin. It was stitched up, but not looking much better than it would otherwise.

Now it was MY turn to look away and close my eyes. She was lucky she hadn't been paralysed.

Eventually she turned back and let me open my eyes again. "But anyway, I can't remember much of what happened next; it was pretty hard to stay conscious. I think he must've thought I was dead, and he freaked out. He didn't want to get in trouble, and I can't really blame him."

Fine, you don't have to. I'LL do it FOR you.

"He dumped me in the back of his pickup and threw a tarp over me and drove out into the middle of the woods, or some place. I was unconscious for most of the trip, so I don't really know, but I woke up again when the pickup stopped. He rolled me onto the ground and I blacked out again for a while. The last thing I heard was the engine in the pickup starting and then getting further and further away. Next thing you know, I wake up in a medical centre with a bunch of strangers staring at me and 'F.O.H.' dripping off my forehead in pig's blood."

She managed a more real smile this time, so I put in the effort to smile back, but now I was having trouble. How could she possibly be defending this man?

"If you think about it, it was really a smart move. He didn't want to get caught, so he pinned it on an anti-mutant group. I think it was a good plan."

What? Was she nuts? An unnatural grin lit up her face, and I could see the false hope in her eyes.

"I'd be going back there now, but I think it would freak him out even more to see me back from the dead, so I'm thinking I might just hang around here with you guys for a while."

Was this chick in denial or something? YOUR FATHER IS EVIL! Take the hint.

Oh, thank goodness she isn't a telepath.

"Aisha," I began, shaking my head. She couldn't lie, so she must actually believe this stuff. But she had to know. She couldn't keep thinking her father was a good guy deep down.

But before I could say anything else, someone had opened the door and stepped unsurely into the room. It was Tall-Guy-'S'-name.

He looked awkward and uncomfortable for a moment and then spoke. "The Professor would like to see you in his office as soon as possible, but considering neither of you know where that is, I'll be back in five minutes to take you there." He looked like he wanted to leave, but something was holding him there. You could practically see the debate he was having with his brain right then.

Eventually he won out.

"For the record, fatty and sugary foods aren't allowed."

You've GOT to be joking.

"Actually, I'd rather like to know where you got those." He added and nodded towards our trash pile, his eyebrows shooting above his sunglasses expectantly. Did he ALWAYS wear those things?

"They were stashed at the back of the highest cupboard in the kitchen." Hmmm. I'd been shooting for more of a 'none of your beeswax' type of answer.

"Thank you, Seven. I appreciate your honesty." He nodded and walked out of the room.

If looks could kill, Aisha would be dying a very, VERY painful death right now.