Quetzal paced by the window. She was furious. Furious with herself and furious with the accusing eyes that glanced her way. The children had not been the primary target, Jean had. While she had been busy chasing down the van with the kids, the other van had gotten away with Jean. What would her dad say?

You did the right thing baby, rescuing the kids. And you had no way of knowing about Jean.

Gee thanks pop, think they'll find it all that convincing? I screwed up. I bit into the decoy and they got Jean.

You saved the kids.

I could've killed them.

Quetzal spent most of the day in the medical ward at the mansion. It took Beast a few hours to get all the gravel and glass out of her. Fortunately the bony plates along her back protected her more delicate parts from damage. Two of the plates had broken in the impact with the light pole and every time she moved too fast it felt like broken porcelain. Her head was killing her too.

Quetzal picked up the device. It was the most exotic equipment the MIBs had been carrying. The weapon that had put down Logan was a sound rifle, firing blasts designed to mess up the inner ear. They'd brought devices to neutralize each of the X-men. Quetzal had been an unanticipated wild card.

But the weapons were not what caught her attention. "This is why Jean couldn't see them," she turned the cigarette pack sized device over in her hands. "It's bulky – inelegant and in my universe wasn't developed for another thirty years. But I recognize the basic tech. It's a psychic conduit. Used to conduct psychic powers over long distance. Each one has to be tuned to the wearer and designed specifically for the psi." She scowled. "And I know this design. It's specific to my cousin – Grace. The one who can make people invisible to psychics. That's why Jean didn't see them. Psychically they weren't even there."

"How awfully convenient you know all this," Wolverine growled.

The hackles raised on the back of her neck. "I don't appreciate what you're implying." She was on edge and feeling both defensive and aggressive. No regrets about what she had done. But still, she'd killed people. They'd been alive, and then she snuffed them.

"Then I'll say it outright. You're behind this somehow."

"I ain't!" Quetzal yelled. "And you got no reason nor right t'say that. None at all! You sunnuva-"

"Where did you go when you left the group?" Scott asked. His voice was calm, but Quetzal felt the accusation.

"I told you," she tried to keep the defensive snarl out of her voice. Emotion was making her drawl thick. "I wanted to pick up a handgun. I didn't think it'd be much approved of so I did it on the sly. Maybe y'all are willing to let an attacker get close enough to hit you back – but I sure as hell ain't."

"Where did you get it?" Scott asked.

"From a drug dealer."

Quetzal was pretty sure Scott's eyes were bugging out of his skull behind his red glasses as he sputtered. "You bought a gun of a drug dealer?!?"

"No," she snapped back, rolling her eyes. "I beat the crap out of him and stole it."

"Quetzal you can't do things like that!"

She blinked. "Why not. We're a vigilante group right? I got a drug dealer off the streets. It's not like he was just some innocent bystander."

"But you don't rob them!"

She blinked again. "Why not?"

"That assumes we believe you story," Wolverine interrupted. "You've nicely distracted us from that question."

Quetzal face turned red in an apoplectic rage. "I never lie!" She looked like she was about to leap across the table at him.

"I think that's a lie too," he growled back at her.

Quetzal gulped deeply and tried to force herself calm. She wasn't going to let him goad her into saying anything stupid.

"You would have had plenty of time to alert the guys who kidnapped Jean. They were prepared for us."

She tried visualization exercises. It wasn't working. The only thing she could visualize was wrapping her hands around his neck. The Creature was clawing at the back of her brain, longing to be released. The Creature wasn't angry. Truth and lies meant nothing to it. No, it was afraid. This man had killed her mother. He was a threat to her survival. Quetzal batted it down and took a deep, slow breath. "I did no such thing. Never would. They were waiting for us, but that weren't none of my doing." He voice was calm and low. "Now, I suspect that they've got someone from my cousin Grace's family. She's the only person I know of who can blank out Jean. The best case scenario is a simple kidnapping."

"Best case scenario?" Scott felt his stomach lurch.

Wolverine knew the girl was right about that much. "If they've got a mutant that can manipulate Jean, they might have a way to weaponize her. It's something the Genoshans would do."

Quetzal nodded. "And I'm the best thing you got against a weaponized psion. They can't get into my head."

"Maybe, given the particulars," Scott said. "You should stay behind Quetzal."

"No I ain't!" Quetzal barely kept from shouting. "Jean's a friend a'mine too! And that means I ain't gonna just sit by and hope for the best!"

"I think the kid is right," Logan said. "I really think she should come with us."

Quetzal arched an eyebrow out him.

"Because if you do anything out of line I'll be on hand to gut you like a trout."

Quetzal's eyes narrowed and her stance changed so she was ready to spring. "You just try it little man. I ain't the one who'll be put down."

Wolverine kept his gaze steady with Quetzal's. Her eyes were impassive, like a wild animal. There was nothing behind her eyes except for optic nerves, no anger, no fear, no emotion at all. He knew she would attack if he looked away. Her head lowered slightly and her fingers started twitching. She was ready for a fight. Wolverine was prepared to draw his claws and put her down for good if she leapt at him. Hell, he was prepared to initiate the fight. It was crystal clear that polite and friendly as she appeared to be, she was a traitor. The time-travel story was some bullshit she fed them to infiltrate and facilitate Jean's abduction.

She smelled acrid. Either she was about to piss her pants in fear, or she was murderously violent. She didn't look afraid.

Quetzal kept her eyes locked with Logan's. Her father was right. Wolverine was a dangerous man and a personal threat to her. If she looked away he'd try to snuff her. She was certain of that. His eyes were locked with hers and they were filled with more rage than she'd ever seen. He was going to try to hurt her. Well, he would quickly regret that. She curled her fingers into stiff claws and waited for Wolverine to twitch. If he moved she'd go for his eyes first. Could he smell the sour fear soaking through her?

She'd tried to get over her gut-clenching fear of him. Tried to be friendly and win him over, but he was a mad dog. Unreliable and quick to turn on his pack. And he was pinning his anger on her, trying to turn the others against her. It was a no-win situation – even if she won the fight against him, one of the other Xmen would take her down. She'd be exiled. Quetzal suddenly felt how very much not one of them she was. She was different, she was other, she was a mysterious who from Asylum. She'd never be a hero. And then logic faded as emotion spun up, fear mutating into anger.

"Enough you two," Cyclops broke the spell. He didn't realize how close they were to a blood-bath. "Quetzal, you're coming with us. Everyone get suited up. We're leaving in ten minutes."

Quetzal finished pinning up her braid. She was so upset she stabbed herself in the scalp several times trying to get it secured. "I should jes' leave 'em. I don't have to put up with this crap. Ow!" She rubbed the sore spot on her head and sighed before picking up another bobby pin. "But Grace is family here or home. And Jean – OW! – is a friend." She tucked it under a cap that matched her fatigues. "And ain't no . . . ." she glared at the mirror. "Ain't no dos Santos ever gonna leave friend or family behind."

Wolverine watched Quetzal as she did a final check on her equipment. She had been very still on the plane ride so far. Unnaturally still. There was something about seeing her go through her mental checklist that was gnawing at the back of his mind. It was something he thought he should recognize. She was inherently dangerous and untrustworthy, and even if she wasn't an outright traitor, she couldn't be trusted in a pinch. But damn if he could figure out why he was so certain of that.

She had changed her uniform to be more in line with standards, but not much. Her fatigues were a dark charcoal now, a navy blue X spanned the back of her jacket and dark yellow piping at the seams. The shirt underneath was completely black.

Scott half-turned from the controls. "Quetzal, Storm, you ready to fly?"

Quetzal took off her jacket and tucked it into the belt. She shook out her arms as she feathered them and stretched them into wings. "Good to go!"

Wolverine couldn't resist stretching and 'accidentally' hitting the switch to open the bay door Quetzal was standing on. She disappeared with a satisfying yelp.

Quetzal tumbled through the sky. She rejoiced in the freefall and turned a few somersaults and for a while fell facing up, gazing at the stars, diamonds scattered over black velvet. Achingly perfect and beautiful. "And the firmament shows and proclaims his handiwork." There were few things better than a night flight in such glorious weather. She arched backwards until she was face down and set her wings into a glide.

Storm floated down next to her. The night was quiet. "It looks like a good place to set down."

"I see a few heat signatures," Quetzal said. "Little big for foxes, not quite big enough for people."

Quetzal felt uneasy. She had that vague but definite feeling of dread again. Looking down at the clearing she frowned deeply. Something felt wrong. She thought about saying something but decided against it. There was nothing concrete. And anything she did have to say would just be discounted by Wolverine and Cyclops. Unlike Logan, Scott hadn't said outright that he thought Quetzal was somehow responsible, but she knew he was at least entertaining the idea.

Besides, she thought as she banked away. This is what the Xmen do. They don't need advice from some kid who's only done simulated combat insertions with paintguns. And it'd serve them right too if something should jump out at us.

She flapped a few times to gain altitude. It was probably just nerves. It was one thing to suddenly find yourself in a dangerous situation. This was charging up to the dragon's cave on a white charger, banners unfurled, and trumpets blaring.

Geez Quetzal, melodramatic much. She rolled her eyes at herself and found a thermal. She hovered there, watching the Blackbird land. Once she was out of the range of the wash from the wings she spiraled down to land. She landed fairly delicately.

"Quetzal, you're with me," Wolverine said. "I want to keep an eye on you."

She sneered back at him. "Try to keep up."

"Knock it off you two!" Cyclops snapped at them. "We've got a plan of attack. Follow it."

Quetzal shrugged her jacket back on and muttered "You know what they say about battleplans . . . ."

They only survive until first contact with the enemy. Quetzal found herself buried under a pile of dead leaves and peat. She had managed to burrow in with surprising speed and efficacy. Another mutant power or part of the instinct set from her reptilian genes? Whatever the reason, she hid herself pretty well when everything went FUBAR. As far as she was concerned this X-man did indeed hide.

The soldiers had been waiting for them. The clearing was the best strategic location to land the Blackbird – the only really decent location on the whole island. And shock troops had been waiting – prepared for the X-men's arrival.

She had been hit with some kind of sonic weapon. It scrambled her inner ear and left her unable to stay upright. Quetzal scrambled away on her hands and knees, able to escape because of Wolverine. He had come charging in, claws drawn. Whether he was trying to protect her or trying to snuff her in the confusion, Quetzal didn't wait to see. The soldiers turned their attention on him and Quetzal crawled and clawed her way into the marsh. She had no compunctions against turning tail and running when faced with an overwhelming force. As far as she was concerned there was at least one X-man who was perfectly happy to run away. Once out of sight she had buried herself in the muck. Her eyes were covered but she could 'see' body heat well enough to watch the action. The shock troops were wearing an armor that dampened their heat signature, but now that she knew what she was looking at she could make them out.

Wolverine was hit hard by the sonic device. He wasn't even able to make it to his hands and knees. Quetzal held her breath and pulled further into the muck.

Run and hide, she heard her dad's voice in her head. And don't look back.

But she had to look. She had to know what happened. Storm had crashed into the ground after being hit with one of the sonic weapons. Scott was hit with some kind of electrified net that put him down. When Scott was captured she ducked back under the leaves and muck.

"Did we get them all?" one of the soldiers asked as they collared and bound the decommissioned Xmen.

Yes! Yes you did! No need to look further! Quetzal squinched her eyes shut and projected the thought as hard as she could.

"No, one got through into the marsh. Couldn't have gone very far though."

Quetzal tried to wiggle deeper. The men were standing not even three feet away from where she was hiding.

"Which one was it?"

"Some new female. Sounds like the one who took out five of our guys back in New York."

"There any details on her powers?"

"Purely physical. She can develop wings."

"Get the nets ready then."

That's not all I can develop, she lengthened her toes into saurian claws, one large gut ripping claw on each foot tearing through her boots. Her face lengthened into a muzzle and serrated, curved teeth pushed through her gums. She was dangerously close to being stepped on and fully intended to bring two or three soldiers down with her. Her mouth filled with thick drool, enough that it started dribbling from her mouth. She very carefully shifted her weight, the better to spring from her hiding place.

Hopefully they would just pass by. They were practically standing on top of her and were completely oblivious to her presence. If she held really still they might pass her by altogether.

The radio crackled to life. "Hold your positions. We'll be there with tracking dogs in a minute."

Awww, flipping heck.

Quetzal slowly moved her weight further back on her haunches. She waited for her opportunity to make a break. She hoped she wouldn't end up having to snuff any dogs.

The three men nearby her clumped together to share cigarettes and a light. Quetzal decided that this was her best opportunity; not optimal, but as good as things were likely to get. She sprang silently from her hiding place. She tackled the man in the middle to the ground, sinking her teeth into his neck. A quick bite – a nip and a twist of her neck – and blood gushed into her mouth. She twisted around and up to bite the second man and took a chunk out of his thigh. Then she was running.

The trees were too thick here for her to spread her wings and fly, so she sped along the ground. If she could make it to the water she would be home free.

There was shouting and footsteps behind her. They were getting too close. Something nearly fell on her but she swerved quickly and nearly avoided it. Her arm got tangled in some kind of netting. She gave it a sharp pull to try to get free. It tugged loose from whoever was holding it, but her arm was still entangled. It would drag and get caught. Quetzal turned with a snarl and struck at the man closest to her with her free hand, her hooked claws tearing out a large chunk from his throat. She whipped her neck to one side and flung her heavy tail in the opposite direction to keep balance. There was a satisfying 'crack' when her tail impacted with one man and her teeth sunk into someone's upper arm, she tore out a mouthful of flesh with an easy twist of her strong neck.

Three men down and she was almost at the water. She turned to run again.

"Jesus Christ! Activate the net already!"

Blinding, searing pain shot up the arm that was tangled in the net. Her muscles seized and she fell to the ground.

What rose from the ground a second later wasn't Quetzal. There was no sentience, no conscious thought. There was pain, fear, rage, and hunger. There was killer instinct with nothing to temper it. The Creature had no interest in escape. The Creature instantly bulked out to its full size and strength and turned on the prey that had aroused its hunger and rage. She turned on the prey that was harrying her.

It was a bloodbath. The prey hectored her on every side, but they were soft and her jaws were strong. She bit and kicked and lashed out. She was being overwhelmed by numbers. The Creature knew she should run from these numerous little pests but it had been a long time since she had properly fed. And their squeals and yelps sharpened that hunger.

She was suddenly encumbered. Something was over her head, it didn't hinder her vision, but it tangled in her mouth. She tried to claw it off and got her right wing tangled. There was more squealing from the prey but it was more pressing to get the thing off her head.

There was sudden pain and blackness. The Creature was gone and Quetzal reeled in pain and confusion. She was covered in a netting and her senses were awash in blood. In pain and confusion she staggered and withdrew into herself, becoming human and trying to pull the netting off. There was another shock and she stiffened, falling forward into blackness and nothingness. Her last thought was a vaguely formed worry that being knocked out three times in one month was going to have a long term effect.