Been a long, craaaaazy year. Oof. But I managed to finish TWO chapters! Here's the first one and the next will come sometime after WLB's (which is being worked on).

I'm hoping to get more writing done now since things are calming down. So a chapter here, a chapter there, some artwork in between. I'm also working on another story but I want that one to be completely done before I start posting, so it'll be a bit.

Mild warning for description of panic attack(?).

Chapter Six: Slipping

Sighing, Chris stared up at the sky, watching the soft, white clouds pass slowly above him. He'd gotten Professor Xavier's message, knew that he'd been seen, but even before he took off, he knew that going up to the roof was going to get him into trouble. If he was going to be punished, he'd accept it, but he was silently hoping that the Professor would understand what had happened and why he did what he did.

It's not like he had anywhere else to go. Sure, the teachers always told him to call for one of them if he needed it, but he honestly couldn't imagine that any of them would have been able to get him away from the crowd and back inside without drawing everyone's attention to him and that… That would have been far worse than getting into a little bit of trouble.

Granted, Chris' choice to stay on the roof afterwards would likely make things worse for himself, but where else was he supposed to go? If he retreated to his room, he'd either be found immediately and scolded (and after panicking that badly, he needed time to calm down), or Dan would return and start rambling about how great everything was and how he met all the heroes and did this or got that…

Chris had briefly given thought to going off into the woods, but that would really make things worse. The Professor would be sure to send Logan in after him and aside from being punished for literally forever, he'd definitely be getting one of the man's legendary spankings. That left him with two options. Where he was, which required no effort until it was time to go down, or the garden, where he risked being found and brought inside to be punished even sooner.

So on the roof he remained, watching the sky as his ears twitched, haphazardly listening to the sounds everyone on the ground was making. This high up, with that many people, he couldn't single anyone out, but they… they sounded like they were having fun.

Sighing, Chris rolled over onto his stomach and pushed himself up, shaking the bits of leaves and dirt off of himself before sitting back on his knees. He crawled closer to the edge, just to where he would be able to see what was going on, ears and tail twitching as he did so. The activities seemed to be winding down, finally. That meant he would be able to go down soon and with any luck, get something to eat.

So he folded his arms, resting his chin on them as he watched. The teachers started leading all of his classmates back into the school, aside from Professor Xavier and Ororo, who were talking to the Avengers. Chris was tempted, just a little, to try and listen in on what they were saying, but with everyone distracted, it was the perfect time to get back down without anyone seeing him.

Shuffling further down the roof, back to where he'd come up, as the balconies and vines should block any straggler's view of him, he turned and let his paw-like feet drop first, claws digging into the roof's tiles. He dropped down enough so that he was hanging onto the roof's edge, then reached for a thick bundle of vines, grabbing onto them tightly, holding his breath.

Getting up–the side of the school, a tree, a cliff, anything–never a problem. Getting down? That was the hard part. Not that he was afraid of heights (though he used to be), but he was afraid of falling, and one wrong move, one loose brick or rotted vine and he'd be sent straight down and while he could heal from some wounds, hitting the ground from the height he was at…

He'd rather not think about it.

But it was going well. Just as it had that morning when he'd climbed down from his room. Sure, he was a lot higher up this time, but it was basically the same. All Chris had to do was stay focused, which unfortunately wasn't as easy as he'd like. His ears kept twitching, picking up every noise, he'd flinch when his claws scraped the bricks, and more than once, he'd have to re-steady himself when he'd miss where he was trying to put his foot and slide down an extra foot or two.

Tears of frustration (and fear, though he'd never admit it) were starting to build and he started wishing he'd never gone up to the damn roof. Not when he was already feeling bad, not after freaking out. Now he had to get himself down and he just wanted to be down. Wanted someone to be there to help him, but that wasn't possible.

Sniffling, he quickly used his sleeve to wipe his face, pushing those thoughts aside. He had to be big, he had to be strong. No one was there to help. He could do it. He had to. Just like always, he would do this by himself. It didn't matter that he was a little. It never did. Aside from the very few times one of the teachers would manage to convince him to let them do something, he took care of himself. Like a big bo–no. Not a big boy. Like an adult. Like he was supposed to be.

But you'll never be a real adult. You'll always be a stupid baby.

Taking a deep breath, he shook the intrusive thoughts from his head and continued making his way down, briefly glancing to the side at the ground to see how much further he had to go. He was about half-way. Good. A vine here, a brick there, more vines and a slight swing to a small windowsill and–Shit!

It felt like all of the air was sucked out of his lungs as the worst of all possible scenarios happened all at once. His foot slipped, claws refusing to cooperate and in his panic to try and step onto something else, to do anything to steady himself, he reached for a bundle of thin, weak vines and under his weight, even as small as he was, they snapped.

And he fell.

Time seemed to slow down for the first few moments of the fall, an involuntary scream of terror escaping him before he felt the air rushing past him, tears flowing as he scrambled, trying to dig his claws into anything. But nothing seemed within reach anymore, and the scream got louder. Trying one more time, he just barely managed to scrape the corner of a window and the realization that this was it, that he messed up, that he was about to possibly die hit him full force.

The next second, it was all over. But instead of hitting the hard ground, hurting himself beyond what his healing ability could handle, he was wrapped in a pair of large, warm arms. The fear, the adrenaline, the million and one thoughts going through his head were too much, and even though whoever caught him was speaking, he couldn't hear a single word. The fear of having fallen was overpowering, but along with it now was the fear of being not only caught, but held, by someone unknown. He knew the scents of every teacher in the school, and even through everything that was overwhelming him, he could still pick up on that, on the fact that he didn't know this scent.

The urge to fight, run, and scream once again hit him all at once, but after what happened, he did the only thing he was capable of at that moment. Chris began to cry, sobbing loudly, ears pressed back against his head as his tail tried to curl itself underneath him, between his legs. He moved to curl up, bury his face against his knees, claws digging into the flesh of his calves.

"Shh, hey kiddo, it's okay. You're okay. Let's not do that, huh?" Chris knew that voice, somehow, but he couldn't pinpoint who it belonged to. He couldn't think. All he knew was that he was scared. He was scared and he was being touched by a man he didn't know and it didn't matter how nice the man was trying to sound, the worry that this stranger would hurt him was the only thing flashing in the little's mind.

It was made worse when hands touched his own, trying to gently remove them from his legs so that he couldn't hurt himself anymore. That was when his fight instinct finally kicked back in and he knew he needed to get away. He needed to get far, far away. He needed to hide where no one would find him. Punishments be damned.

In a flash, he went from curled up and sobbing to thrashing and struggling in this stranger's grasp, still crying, his breaths shallow as panic set in. Whoever was holding him was strong and fast, and managed to avoid any and all hits he threw out, including those with his claws and teeth. That meant… It was one of the heroes. One of the Avengers. Knowing that only fueled his desperate need to get away, and he actually did manage to land a couple of hits, though they hurt him far more than whoever it was he struck.

All he was doing was tiring himself out, which was obvious as he started to sag in the man's arms, still crying, but he realized he wasn't getting away. Not without seriously hurting someone and he couldn't do that. He wouldn't do that. Not again. "There we go, little guy. You're okay. Shh, sweet boy. You're safe. I've got you."

No, he wasn't safe. He wasn't okay. He wasn't going to be either until he got away, until he retreated to a dark little corner of whatever cabinet or closet he could squeeze into, somewhere he could hide and stay hidden, where no would be able to reach him until he was ready to come out.

With his energy quickly fading, the man was able to easily maneuver him into a different position, gently readjusting the young mutant so that his legs were splayed, an arm going under his (soaked, he realized in that moment) bottom, and one around his back, all the while this stranger continued to talk, speaking soft, soothing words to him, trying to help him calm down.

It worked. Somehow.

The new position combined with the soft words and the man's body heat, which was much higher than any normal human, evident even through whatever… costume he was wearing was… It was soothing. The man must have noticed that what he'd done had a calming effect on Chris as he continued to speak, now softly bouncing the boy in his arms.

Chris continued to cry, but now it was silent aside from a few sniffles and hiccups, his face buried in the man's shoulder. He hated it, all of it... Or rather, he wanted to hate it. He was being held, being comforted, like a baby, and aside from working, he loved every second of it. The warmth, the comfort, the safety. But he didn't want to! Touch meant pain! Even if it wasn't always immediate, touch meant pain was coming, and these were superheroes. As a mutant, one of his abilites was (slightly) enhanced strength, so he was stronger than most humans were, but these people? At any moment, if they chose to, they could do far worse than his—Than anyone else ever did.

"Good job, Cap. You caught the little guy and calmed him down." As the second voice echoed in Chris' ears, his breath caught in his throat. There was more than one around him, and the one that spoke was another… another male. That meant they could all be right there, surrounding him. Waiting for an opportunity–Waiting for anything.

Panic rose in Chris once again and his cries became choked breaths and he began to shake, skin going pale. "Oh, shi–shoot. Hey, hey, kiddo. It's okay. Can you look at me? C'mon, let me see that cute face." Shaking his head, Chris tried to just force himself to breathe normally, which did nothing more than make things worse–it felt like his throat was closing up and he started coughing, desperately gasping for air as he pawed at the chest of the man holding him. "Come on, kiddo, look up for us, look at me. I know you're super scared, but if you look up, it'll all be better."

Chris didn't believe that. It didn't matter how sincere they sounded. But... maybe, just maybe, if he listened to what they said-if he was a good boy-he'd be safe? He wasn't sure, but it had to be worth a shot. So he tried to move and raise his head, but his body wasn't listening to him at that point.

The hands on him moved though, the one under him lifting him higher and the one on his back moving to his head, gently pushing it up so that his chin was resting on the man holding him's shoulder and his golden eyes, frozen open in fear, met soft brown ones as he was put face to face with Tony Stark. Ironman himself.

Mr. Stark's face held a soft, warm smile, though he didn't move to touch Chris. "There we go. That's a good boy. Now I need you to count with me, okay? It might be hard because you're scared, but focus on me and try to count. Try to breathe with me. One… Two… Three…"

With nowhere else to look, nothing else to focus on, Chris did try. He tried as best he could–he hadn't been doing a great job at calming down before but now, watching Mr. Stark, listening to the man talk him through it while the large hand returned to his back, rubbing circles as whoever was holding him continued to bounce him… It was working. "There we go, sweet boy. Just listen to Tony." Cap, that was what Mr. Stark had called him. That meant he was being held by Captain America. Steve Rogers. "Good boy. That's a good boy, just keep breathing."

Following along with Mr. Stark became easier and easier each time he did it, and once Chris was able to take a full, deep breath and his panic began to fade, he went back to silently crying, aside from the occasional sniffle, once again burying his face in Cap–Mr. Rogers' shoulder. "You did so good, kiddo. We're so proud of you."

Proud? Why? How? What reason would anyone, let alone a group of strangers, let alone humans, be proud that he calmed down? If they'd have let him go, he'd have calmed down on his own! It was their fault he had freaked out even more!

… Even if Mr. Rogers was the one that saved him. He didn't have to do that… Though, thinking about it, both men may have even been warned about how Chris would react to them, which is why Mr. Rogers didn't put him down, why he tried to calm Chris instead of letting him run off or bringing him straight inside while he was in the middle of what would look to most others like the tantrum of the century.

All of this, the entire situation, was too much for Chris though. He was overwhelmed, exhausted, and his true self, the toddler part of him, was slowly clawing its way out as his mind slowed down. He was still afraid, but more than anything, he was just tired. He needed a change–no, he needed to change, he was hungry and thirsty, and he wanted to take a na–go to sleep. Just sleep for the rest of the day.

"Let's get this little fella inside, Tony. We can talk to Professor Xavier then meet up with the others." So that meant it was only Mr. Rogers and Mr. Stark with him. That was comforting, enough so that he actually started to relax against Mr. Rogers, the roller-coaster of mental turmoil he'd gone through that day taking its toll.