"RAAAAARRRRGGHH!!!" The book Wolverine was trying to read flew across the room and hit the wall in a flurry of pages. He was at the end of his rope. He had torn the Danger Room to pieces, worked out in the gym to the point of collapse, showered until his fingers turned to prunes. Meditation, reading, katas -- nothing helped. Every time he closed his eyes or tried to concentrate, two huge black eyes filled his vision and swept him away again. Rogue and Storm had assured him that Alma's loss of consciousness was simply due to fatigue and too much excitement on her first day up. [Yeah, right.]

 Jean had just left the infirmary after a late dinner with a very happy, very tired, and very perplexed Alma. She heard the commotion, made a good guess at the source and cause, and tapped on Logan's door.

 "WHO IZZIT?" came a bellow of frustration and rage.

 "It's Jean, Logan. May I come in? It sounds like you could use a talk."

 He opened the door, growling, "If it was anyone else …"

 "Who else would you agree to talk to?" She looked him over: his face was drawn and haggard, and his eyes were bloodshot and haunted. "Please, sit down and talk to me. You're obviously upset and you know darn well you won't rest until you talk this over."

 He stood glaring for a moment, then slumped onto the edge of his bed, buried his face in his hands and shook for several minutes. Jean sat next to him with her hand on his shoulder, sensing his inner turmoil and trying to comfort him with her presence. "Those eyes … God, those eyes!" he groaned at last. "I can't get 'em outta my head. Jean --" he looked at her pleadingly "-- what the flamin' hell happened?"

 "I honestly don't know. I could give you a lot of song-and-dance about psychic bonding and such, but I won't do that to you. That's not what you need. Try telling me what happened and I'll try to help you make some sense of it. Talk to me."

 "All right," he sighed, trying to assemble his thoughts. "You … know how I feel about you …"

 "Yes," Jean replied softly. "I do love you, you know, just not …"

 "Not the way I wish ya could. This was different. It … it was like she was lookin' inside me. Not readin' my mind, but seein' me -- my self, my soul, all o' me -- an' wasn't turned off. The killin' … the animal inside me …all the shit I've done …"

 "Don't be so hard on yourself, Logan, there's a lot that's good about you, too, or I wouldn't care for you so much. If she saw the 'shit', she saw the good as well. It's all part of what makes you you."

 "Well …" He fell silent, then cleared his throat and continued. "The weirdest part is that it's like she's still lookin' inta me, right now. Everywhere I look I keep seein' those eyes, an' it's drivin' me nuts!"

 "Those eyes are rather haunting, I agree. I think one reason you're so uncomfortable with this is that you're an intensely private person. You don't like the idea of someone getting past your barriers so quickly and easily. Also, it was very strong, very sudden, and totally unexpected."

 His mouth twitched. "Like a ton o' bricks out of a clear blue sky."

 "Logan, if it's any comfort, Alma's as confused and upset as you are, and for the same reasons. I just talked to her, and whatever this is, it's hit her just as hard, and it's affecting her much the same way."

 "What's that supposed ta mean?"

 "I mean she feels like you looked inside her and saw everything she's gone through, and she keeps seeing your eyes everywhere."

 Again he hid his face in his hands, muttering curses. "Jean, what are we gonna do? I mean, I can't possibly sleep with her, she's just a kid, fer crissake! I'm old enough ta be her -- her grandfather!"

 "LOGAN!" Jean snapped. "I'm surprised at you! Sex should be the least of your worries right now!" He managed to blush under her scathing tone. "I think you can relax on that matter, since she's obviously not going to be in shape for it for a long time. And --" her voice and face softened "-- is the age difference really so important?"

 Logan had to think about that question for a while. "I don't really know. Right now all I do know is that I could drown in those eyes 'n' die a happy man." His face twisted. "Hell, I can't even talk ta her!"

 "Of course you can talk to her! She seems to understand English almost as well as you do. And there are other ways to communicate besides talking. If this is going to grow into anything, you'll both find a way, but it won't be easy. Scott and I have worked pretty hard to build what we have."

 He looked thoughtful. "Y'know, it sounds like she had a real rough time, maybe as rough as I did."

 Jean nodded. "Worse, possibly. You were a grown man, whereas she was a child, with a child's trust that whatever grownups do is right. I don't think I'll ever forgive that 'Cruel One' for robbing her of her innocence and her childhood. But it's made her very mature for someone her age, and very strong inside. It gives you something in common, something to start building on. This could grow into a very rich and rewarding relationship, or mellow into the kind of friendship you have with Jubilee."

 He sighed again. "Jubilee. What am I gonna do 'bout her? I didn't ask fer this …"

 "I don't know," Jean admitted. "I'd hate to see Jubilee turn jealous. There's the potential for a good friendship between those two, one that could go a long way towards healing Alma."

 "I'll talk ta her tomorrow, see if I c'n get it straightened out. Gotta talk ta Alma, too, somehow …"

"Logan, stop worrying so much! Give it time! Stay friends with Jubilee and keep doing special things with her and for her, of course. Meanwhile, help Alma heal, and maybe she can help you heal, clear away some of that 'shit'."

 Wolverine was silent for a while. "Maybe," he said at last.

 "Feeling a little better? Think you can get some rest?"

 "I think so."

 "Good. I'm off to bed, but go ahead and wake me if you need to talk some more." She rose, patted his shoulder and gave him a peck on the cheek. After she left, he sat thinking for a while, then dug out the Yellow Pages and looked up several addresses. He brushed his teeth, went to bed and finally drifted off to sleep, noting drowsily that he no longer minded the huge dark eyes gazing into the depths of his soul …

 Logan was gone the next morning, and Jean found a note on her door: Thanks for last night. I'm heading into town to do some special shopping. Back in time for dinner. L.

 After lunch with Alma, Jean commented, "Y'know, I think this cast may be ready to come off." Alma's face lit up, and she nodded vigorously. "I'll call Dr. O'Dell to see if she can stop by to confirm that."

HOO DOK ODEL? Alma spelled.

"Sorry, I forgot you don't know. She helped us the night we found you. Your hand was so bad we were afraid we might have to cut it off …" Alma went pale, her eyes widened with horror, and she clutched at her wrist protectively. "Don't look so scared, dear. She was able to fix it, that's why it's still there."

Alma sighed and relaxed, then spelled LADY DOK?

"Ladies can be doctors or lawyers or astronauts or police or anything else they want to be."

CROOL WUN SAY ALL WIMIN HORS

"That's ridiculous! I'm a woman, I'm certainly no whore, and neither are you! Besides, I know women who are ministers and business owners and senators. Some are married, some aren't."

WAT I BE?

"That's for you to decide, when you're well and have learned more about the world and yourself. That may take a while, but you've got plenty of time, so don't fret about it. Which book are you reading now? Any words you don't understand?"

 Wolverine returned with a large shopping bag in his arms as dusk was falling, and found Jubilee waiting to let him in. "Your timing is perfect, we're almost ready ta eat. What didja get? Anythin' for me?"

 "Sorta, but you'll find out soon enough. Are we all eatin' together?"

 "Yeah, Alma's gonna join us 'stead of havin' her dinner in the infirmary. Uh, Wolverine … maybe I shouldn't be askin', but … I-I gotta know … what happened with you two yesterday?"

 He sighed. "Can't tell ya, kid, mostly 'cause I dunno myself." He freed an arm and rumpled her hair. "Hope ya ain't mad about it …"

 Jubilee blushed and looked uncomfortable. "It looked ta me like neither of you had much choice. I guess this means you won't be spendin' as much time with me …" She hung her head.

 Wolverine set down the bag and seized her shoulders. "Jubilee, look at me." She kept her head down, fighting the tears that stung her eyes, the tears she knew he'd hate … Then she felt his hand gently cup her chin and tilt her face up. "Look at me, darlin'." There was worry in that gruff voice, and when she met his eyes she saw concern and compassion filling them. "Look, kid, whatever happens between Alma 'n' me ain't gonna change what I feel fer you. You know how I feel about Jean, right? Has that stopped me carin' about you? Alma's gonna need all the love 'n' help we c'n give her if she's gonna get well, 'specially inside her head. You've heard the reports, how scared she is o' touchin', but she hugged you! I saw how happy she was t'see you; I think you two c'n be real good friends if you don't get jealous. You 'n' me are still pals, an' we always will be, I promise. Now quit lookin' like yer dog just died 'n' gimme a smile."

Jubilee managed a wistful grin. "We're still buddies?"

"Always 'n' forever. You heard me promise, an' you know I don't break promises." He gave her a firm hug. "So what's the latest medical report?"

"The doctor's comin' over tomorrow an' Alma may get the cast off her leg."

 "Hey, that's great news, but knowin' you'll try not t'be jealous is even better. Now, lemme wash up 'n' stuff, an' I'll see ya in a few."

 When Logan entered the dining room with his shopping bag, he was greeted by wonderful smells from a heavily laden buffet table, grins and curious looks from a fully assembled team, and a shy smile from Alma, who was wearing her dark glasses (to his relief -- and disappointment) and a bathrobe about three sizes too big. "We were just about to start without you," Jean called with a teasing note in her voice.

 "An' here I thought it was fashionable t'be late," Logan replied loftily as he pulled a chair between Jubilee's seat and Alma's wheelchair and set the shopping bag down on it. Puzzled glances were exchanged around the table: Wolverine making jokes? And was that a smile on his face?

 "So what's in the bag already?" Jubilee persisted.

 "Can't a guy get some chow without gettin' razzed ta death?" He rumpled Jubilee's hair again, turned to Alma, who was listening to the exchange with wide eyes, and took hold of the handles of her wheelchair. "Let's get you a plateful 'fore these jokers eat it all. Storm, izzat yer chicken curry I smell?"

 The meal was filled with good-natured banter; even Professor Xavier relaxed and told a few jokes. Alma was bewildered by the repartee, but she ate heartily, using her fork with care and pride. At last empty plates were cleared away, and everyone watched eagerly as Logan set his bag on the table, reached in, and took out a small box. "This is fer you," he said, handing it to Alma. Inside was a slim silver cylinder about three inches long, beautifully chased and engraved and attached to a delicate necklace chain. "Blow inta it," Logan instructed at her baffled look. An ear-piercing whistle was the result, and Alma was so startled that she dropped it. "That's fer emergencies," Wolverine explained as he picked it up and clasped the chain around her neck. "You may not be able t'holler fer help, but blow that 'n' someone will come a-runnin'."

 "Wonduhful idea!" Rogue cried in delight, and Alma's eyes and face glowed. Next came a flat rectangular package; when Alma finally got the wrappings off she found a sturdy piece of plastic with the alphabet printed on it. "Yer paper's gettin' kinda worn," Wolverine noted. "This won't bend or break, an' it c'n be wiped clean. It's small enough ta fit in yer pocket or yer purse, too." The next package was so bulky and heavy that Jubilee had to help Alma open it. Inside was a thick book entitled A Dictionary of Sign. "Sign language was developed fer deaf people," Logan told her. "It's a way o' talkin' with yer hands." There were nods and murmurs of approval around the table, Jean beamed at him, and Alma was so elated that she forgot her shyness and hugged him (producing gooseflesh clear to his toes).

 "Gosh, it's almost like Christmas!" Jubilee exclaimed.

 "Well, these are fer us," Logan replied as he produced a stack of sign language instructional videotapes. "If Alma's gonna learn t'talk this, it's up ta all of us --" he gave Gambit a meaningful look " --t'learn ta understand her."

 "Very thoughtful of you, Wolverine," Xavier complimented him. "I'm almost embarrassed that I didn't think of this myself. We'll start studying these tapes right away; there's no need to wait until Alma's hand is healed." Logan felt an urgent tug at his sleeve and turned to Alma. She had been looking in the dictionary; she patted it, pointed to the tapes and plastic board, and touched the whistle at her throat, her eyes full of tears. She put her hand behind his neck, drew his head down, and kissed him softly on the cheek. (The contact would not have broken a soap bubble, but he felt goosebumps again) Then she raised her fingertips to her lips and extended her upturned palm to him, signing her first words: *Thank you.*

*****

 Next morning the X-Men crowded into the infirmary when Dr. O'Dell completed her examination in hopes of witnessing Alma's first steps. Dr. Katherine ("Call me 'Kate'") O'Dell, an orthopedic specialist, was a plump, motherly brunette in her mid-fifties, and her natural warmth quickly won Alma's trust. With regret, she decreed that the splints and bandages on Alma's right hand had to stay a while longer.

 "Compound fractures don't heal overnight. This is doing a lot better than I thought it would at first, though, and you should get nearly full use of it. How did it happen, anyway?"

 Alma turned pale and winced, shuddering at the memory, but she spelled CROOL WUN STEP ON IT HARD on her new "alpha-board".

 Kate was aghast. "You mean this was done deliberately? For heaven's sake, why?"

I SKRACH HIS FACE was the reply.

 "Good fer you, kiddo," Wolverine told her. "I'm glad t'see ya got some fight in ya."

 "Ah 'membuh now that creep's face wuz all scratched up," Rogue commented. "Alma hon, Ah'm glad now Ah threw him so hard."

 *Thank you,* Alma signed with a wry smile.

"C'mon, folks, let's get this cast off and see how the leg is," Kate cut in. "Don't be scared, Alma, this plaster cutter won't hurt you if you hold still. Logan, quit breathing down my neck." The instant the leg was free, Alma began scratching it almost frantically, producing a small blizzard of dead skin flakes. Her ecstatic expression and sigh of pure bliss made several people chuckle. Hearing their laughter, Alma stopped scratching, looking at her friends in consternation.

"They're not laughin' at you, Alma," Jubilee reassured her. "They're laughin' 'cause we all know how good it feels when ya can finally scratch an itch."

Once Alma had eased the irritation, she displayed alarm at how thin the exposed limb was, but Kate soothed her: "The muscles are wasted because you haven't used them. Exercise'll build them up in no time. Now, wiggle your toes … good. Rotate your ankle, slow and easy. Don't fret, those pops are just your muscles stretching. How far can you bend your knee? Any pain?"

Alma shook her head and spelled STIF.

"That's to be expected," Kate told her. "Now swing your legs over the edge of the bed. Logan, get her left side and I'll take the right. Put your arms around us, I don't want you to fall." Slowly they eased her to her feet. "Are you dizzy?" Kate asked. Alma shook her head. "Good. Steady … slide your arms off." She wobbled a bit and grabbed Wolverine's arm, then squared her shoulders and stood erect. Now that Alma was upright, the X-Men saw how small she was: the top of her head barely reached Logan's chin, and her dainty hands and feet, fine bones and huge eyes made them think of a pixie. A broad grin lit up her face; she tried a few slow steps, then wobbled again. "Not too fast," Kate cautioned. Suddenly Alma's legs gave way, and her helpers caught her. There was a chorused sigh of dismay, and Kate glared at the team. "Stop that," she ordered sternly. "She's been flat on her back for a month, it's no wonder she's weak. Alma, don't stand up unless someone's here to catch you. If you fall, you might reinjure your hand. I want you to walk several times a day, but make sure you have support until you're a lot stronger and steadier on your feet."

 "I'll take care o' that," Wolverine offered, but the other X-Men shook their heads.

 "Non, mon ami, y' can't hog all th' fun," Gambit told him with a grin.

 "We all want to help Alma," Storm said firmly. "We can set up a schedule and take turns. Jubilee, I do not think you are strong enough to catch Alma by yourself."

 "Ya mean I don't get ta help?" Jubilee asked, crushed.

 "Of course you can," Cyclops reassured her. "Just make sure there's someone else here as well."

 *Thank you all,* Alma signed.

 "I'm glad that's settled," Kate chuckled. "I'll be back in a couple of weeks to check on your hand. Meanwhile, you practice walking as much as you can."

 The next two weeks were busy ones for Alma, and she no longer had time to be lonely or bored. The infirmary saw a steady stream of visiting X-Men, especially Jubilee, and the two girls quickly became friends (to Logan's vast relief). Alma became a familiar sight in the hallways, clad in bathrobe, slippers and dark glasses, with one or two X-Men always at her side. Steadily her strength increased and her balance improved, and each day she could walk for longer periods and greater distances. Between practice walks she read, exercised in bed, and studied sign language, practicing the fingerspell alphabet and some simple one-handed signs. She grew more confident as well, no longer flinching when someone touched her unexpectedly. Indeed, she seemed starved for physical affection and loved hugs, both giving and receiving.

 Ten days after Dr. O'Dell's visit, Alma climbed her first flight of stairs to thunderous applause. "Now ya get the guided tour," Wolverine told her, and over the next few days she explored the mansion from top to bottom. The library left her stunned and ecstatic (SO MUCH BOOKS! she spelled in awe) and the gymnasium intrigued her, but Cerebro baffled her. She had never seen a computer, and the concept was totally alien to her limited comprehension. Beast tried to explain, but she lacked the necessary background knowledge to "connect" his explanation. "Do not worry," he consoled her. "You have learned so much so quickly that we tend to forget your lack of knowledge in other areas. It will come in time." Her first walk in the garden was another reminder to the X-Men of the gaps in her education. Alma had never touched a tree or felt grass between her toes, never heard a bird sing or crickets chirp. The entire world of nature was strange to her, and its complexity and beauty were often beyond her grasp. Books helped fill some of the gaps, however, and she read more than ever. By the time Dr. O'Dell returned, she was reading at sixth-grade level, was able to walk unsupported, and was impatiently eager to "talk" with both hands.

 Once again everyone crowded into the infirmary "for the unveiling". Alma was trembling with anticipation and excitement, and could barely sit still as Kate undid the bandages. The hand was thin and wasted, with unsightly scars on the back and faint white patches on the fingertips. But it was whole, and it worked, as Alma quickly proved to cheers and sighs of relief. *I talk! I talk now!* she signed triumphantly, then turned to Kate. *First say big BIG thank you. Not have this hand without you. You ask, I do.*

 When Scott had translated, Kate blushed. "No need to thank me; it's all in a day's work." Seeing Alma's disappointment, she added, "Really, dear, it's thanks enough just to see you smiling, but I'll accept a big hug," which Alma readily gave her. "Now, let's check the sensitivity of those fingers," Kate continued as she took a feather out of her pocket. "Close your eyes and nod if you feel this." She lightly brushed each fingertip with the feather, and Alma nodded each time. Pinpricks produced flinches as well, and Kate was amazed. "You've got almost normal feeling in your hand, and you should be able to achieve full mobility and strength with practice and exercise. This has healed far better than I ever hoped when I first saw it."

 "Several of her blood transfusions came from Wolverine," Jean explained.

 "Oho," Kate exclaimed, but Alma looked confused.

 "One o' my mutations is quick healin'," Logan told her. "I gave some blood to ya, an' it helped ya heal up faster 'n' better'n normal."

 For a long moment she looked at him as she comprehended the significance of his act, then slowly signed: *No words say big enough thank. This hand yours too,* and gave him a long, hard hug.

 The somewhat flustered Wolverine's ears turned red, but no one dared snicker or even smile. Kate finally came to his rescue by opening her satchel and removing a jar, which she opened. "Here, Alma," she interrupted smoothly, displaying a lump of putty, "Squeezing this will build up the strength and flexibility of your hand. Use it often, like this," she demonstrated. "When you aren't using it, put it back in the jar or it'll turn hard. Also --" she took several sheets of paper from her satchel and handed them to Hank "-- these are some exercises to help develop the smaller muscles and improve your dexterity. In my professional opinion, you are well; all you need is rehabilitation, and I'm sure your friends here will be glad to help you. Now that you're well, what's the first thing you'd like to do?" Alma sniffed at her armpit and wrinkled her nose in distaste, then mimed scrubbing herself.

 "A bath! She wants a bath!" Jubilee interpreted, and Alma nodded in agreement. Shampoo, soap, towels and a fresh bathrobe were produced while Kate made her farewells, and Alma eagerly headed for the infirmary's bathroom, with Jean accompanying her in case she needed assistance. As soon as water started running to cover their conversation, the X-Men held a quick conference, with the Professor linking Jean telepathically. Agreement was unanimous, and plotting began for a big surprise for their new friend.

 Alma finally emerged from the bathroom without Jean's support, her still-damp hair combed as neatly as its ragged cut would permit. "I had to trim her nails and show her how to scrub her back, and she needed a little help with her hair, but she did everything else on her own," Jean boasted.

 "Excellent!" Xavier approved. "Alma, would a large group of strangers frighten you?"

 *Maybe. Why?* she inquired, looking a bit nervous.

 "Well, you can't wear a bathrobe all the time. The ladies want to take you shopping for some clothes tomorrow, to celebrate your recovery."

 Alma was stunned. *You be say it okay I wear clothes? Like people?*

 "Of course ya can! You're 'people' too!" Jubilee declared indignantly.

 *I not know how be people,* Alma gestured sadly.

 "We'll all teach you," Jean said. "That's what friends are for. Everything from how to tell time to how to drive a car. How to make change and tie your shoes and put on makeup. Right, gang?" There was a clamorous chorus of agreement. When it quieted, Xavier continued:

 "Also, now that you have recovered, there's no reason for you to stay in the infirmary any longer. There are several unoccupied rooms here and there; I'm certain we can find one you'll like."

 Utterly flabbergasted, Alma signed, *You say true? Not make fun? I get room for mine?*

 "We-all got our own rooms," Rogue replied. "Why shouldn't you?" Alma suddenly burst into tears, shaking so hard she had to sit down. Rogue looked distressed. "Whut did Ah say wrong?"

 Alma shook her head, wildly signing, *I happy, I happy!* It was several minutes before she was calm enough to sign coherently: *You save me from life so-very bad it no life. No one be nice at me. No one touch me, only hit me. Always hungry. Always fear. Always hurt. And lonely, always so-very lonely.* She shook under the burden of memory, her face stark with grief and pain, then took a deep breath before continuing. *Thank you not enough say for all you give. You make hurt stop, you say I people, you say I friend, you give food and hug and talk and life. Now you give more. Too much, what I can give back?*

Though the grammar was crude and the signs clumsy, the meaning was clear. Professor Xavier glided forward and took her hands. "Alma, you have a great deal you can give us. You survived a long and hideous ordeal that would have broken many people. You retained your sanity and kept fighting. And despite all you have suffered, you were still willing to give us your trust and affection. We need that kind of courage and strength and spirit. I'm the one who needs to say 'thank you'. Let me show my gratitude by giving you a home -- this mansion -- and a room in it to call your own." Blinking back tears, Alma knelt beside him, slid her arms around him in a fierce embrace, kissed his cheek, then drew back to display a dazzling smile. Xavier smiled back. "That says 'yes' better than any word or sign."

 Rogue helped Alma to her feet. "C'mon, sugah, why doncha have a look at our rooms 'fore ya pick one fo' yo'self?"

 Alma blew her nose and pulled herself together, and kept a firm grip on Wolverine's arm as he escorted her down the hallway. She was amazed that each room was different and reflected its occupant's personality. *You all look like your room!*

 "Well, mine's not usually this messy," Jubilee replied, blushing.

 They inspected several vacant rooms as well, but none seemed to appeal to Alma until they found one with a picture window facing the garden. It was dusty with disuse, and Alma signed: *It look lonely.*

"Well, if you want it, it's yours," Xavier told her, "but it needs to be cleaned and fixed up for you. If you don't mind staying in the infirmary one more night, we'll do that while you're out shopping. It looks like you need some sleep; it's been a long day for you today and it will be a long one tomorrow as well."

 *I tired,* Alma agreed, and Storm took her back to the infirmary and tucked her in.

 Alma's first shopping trip began in near disaster. Jubilee entered the dimly-lit infirmary the next morning to find her sitting on the edge of the bed and squeezing her ball of putty. "G'mornin', Alma," she greeted her. "Didja sleep well?"

 *No. Too much excite. What be?* she responded, pointing to the bundle in Jubilee's arms.

 "Ya can't go shoppin' in a bathrobe, so I looked through my closet t'find somethin' for ya ta wear today. You're littler'n I am, so these'll prob'ly be too big, but the other gals' stuff'd be even worse!"

 They found a shirt that wasn't too baggy, but even Jubilee's smallest slacks kept sliding off Alma's slim hips. "I got it!" Jubilee cried. Pawing through the bundle, she found a belt and offered it to her. Instead of taking it, Alma gasped, turned pale, and fled into the bathroom, where Jubilee found her curled up in a corner, whimpering faintly in deep and terrible distress, shielding her face with one arm and clawing futilely at the air with the other. Belatedly, a guilt-stricken Jubilee recalled a foul-smelling motel room, and the marks of a lash on a thin brown back. Sobbing in remorse, she tried to apologize, but Alma was completely hysterical and could not -- or would not -- listen.

 "Oh, no!" Jean exclaimed from the bathroom's doorway. "Jubilee, what's wrong?"

 The younger girl pointed forlornly at the belt lying on the floor. "I'm s-s-sorry!" she wailed, appalled at her thoughtlessness.

 Jean knelt down, seized Alma's shoulders, and shook her gently but firmly. "Alma. Alma, listen to me. No one's going to hurt you. Don't be afraid, Jubilee isn't going to hit you." Slowly Alma relaxed as Jean's words penetrated her panic, and her terrified tears gradually ceased. Handling the belt eased her fear even more. "See?" Jean soothed her. "It's just something to hold your pants up. It won't hurt you."

 "I'm sorry I spooked you, Alma," Jubilee sniffled.

 "Actually, it's better that this happened here and now rather than at the mall," Jean told them. "Alma, you'll probably see people smoking cigarettes today. Nobody's going to hurt you with them. We'll be with you all the time. Think you can handle it?" Alma rubbed her fingertips, shivering at the memory of unbearable agony, then nodded slowly. "Attagirl," Jean said with an encouraging hug. "Now both of you had better wash your faces. And hurry, breakfast is almost ready. Jubilee, did you bring any shoes?"

 "Well, I figured Alma's never worn shoes --" Alma shook her head "-- so maybe these might be a better idea," Jubilee replied, holding up a pair of sandals.

 "Smart thinking," Jean agreed. "Now, this strap goes like this, dear."

 "Here's your shades, Alma, an' your alpha-board," Jubilee reminded her. "Gotcher whistle?"

 Alma touched the silver at her neck, blushing a little. *Never take off, never,* she replied.

 "C'mon, you two, we've got all day to chat. My stomach says it's breakfast time," Jean chided gently as she shooed them out of the infirmary.

 Everyone was gathered in the kitchen, except for Beast and the Professor. "Everythin' okay?" Logan looked up from the counter, brows knitted in concern. "I had a funny feelin' somethin' was wrong."

 "Just a minor misunderstanding," Jean reassured him, not wanting Jubilee to feel any worse.

"Glad to hear it, ladies," Cyclops called as he stirred a skilletful of scrambled eggs. "Have a seat, breakfast will be up in a minute. Wolverine, hurry up with that sausage."

 "Sliced or diced?" he replied, popping his claws. Hearing Alma's startled gasp, he flushed slightly. "Sorry, Alma, I fergot you've never seen these. Don't worry, I ain't never gonna use 'em on you."

 *Okay I touch?* she asked, suddenly curious.

 "Sure," he replied, surprised and impressed by her lack of fear. "Careful, those edges are sharp." After a thorough inspection, she pulled her alpha-board out of her pocket and spelled MUTASHUN? Logan winced at the memory. "It's … a long story. I'll tell ya some other time, okay?" He patted her shoulder, steering her to an empty chair. "C'mon, siddown 'n' eat, you gals will wanna be on yer way."

 *You come too?* she asked hopefully.

 "No way!" Wolverine exclaimed, his eyes wide in mock terror. "I ain't gettin' shanghaied inta a ladies' shoppin' spree!" Alma looked devastated, and Rogue consoled her:

"He's just teasin' ya, sugah. Ah don't think Alma unduhstands that joke, Wolverine."

 *Not understand lots things,* Alma replied.

 "Don't fret. Eat," Cyclops reassured her as he dished out eggs. "Here's coffee, Jean." Alma sniffed curiously, and Scott asked her, "Want to try some? Just sip it, it's hot." Alma tasted it and grimaced. "Well, you don't have to drink it if you don't like it."

 *Okay I say no?* she asked, startled. Refusal had always brought punishment before …

 "Sure, p'tite, ev'ryone got diff'rent taste," Gambit told her. "Y' don' like tunafish, don' hafta eat tunafish. Some people want sugar in coffee, some don't."

 "That's right," Jubilee chimed in. "F'rinstance, Wolverine likes ketchup on his eggs, but Gambit 'n' I think it's gross." Alma decided she did not like ketchup on her eggs after trying a taste, and the rest of the team silently cheered the spark of individuality.

 When they had finished, the men escorted the ladies out to the van. Wolverine helped Alma fasten her seat belt, then gave her a hug. "You have a good time, okay?"

 *I try,* she told him.

 He waved to her, feeling an unexpected pang as they drove away. He swallowed hard, then turned to Remy and Scott. "All right, you wise-asses, quit grinnin' an' grab a paintbrush, we got a lotta work t'do."

*****

 The crowded mall made Alma nervous at first, and she clung tightly to Storm's hand. No one gave them a second glance, however, for she and her friends looked no different from any other group of women on a shopping trip, and she soon relaxed and began to enjoy herself.

 The first stop was the optical department for dark glasses, including swim goggles and a special shatterproof pair with a head strap. Next was the beauty salon, where they made an appointment for early afternoon. Then came lingerie: panties, slips, pajamas and some training bras. They also found a pretty velveteen robe to replace the plain terry-cloth ones Alma had been wearing, and she fell in love with a pair of "bunny" slippers. They moved on to hosiery for socks in various weights and colors, plus pantyhose and tights. Some of Alma's color selections were unusual, and her friends suspected she might be colorblind.

Blouses, T-shirts and tops, slacks, shorts and blue jeans: Alma was overwhelmed by the variety of patterns and styles, as well as exercising the privilege of choice. By the time they had assembled a basic wardrobe, she was getting shaky from sensory overload, and Jean checked her watch and decided it was lunchtime. They headed for the mall's fast-food outlet, and Alma had her first encounter with French fries (which she adored) and chocolate milk shakes (*So-very more good than Ensure!*). She also enjoyed her hamburger more after being reassured that it really was all right to take out the pickles.

Rogue and Storm carried packages out to the van while Jean and Jubilee accompanied Alma to the beauty salon. The bright lights hurt her eyes, and they decided to postpone her "perm", settling for a haircut and set. Alma was dumbfounded at the difference. *That me?* she signed in amazement, staring at herself in the mirror. "That's really you, dear!" Jean told her. "Alma, you're pretty!" Jubilee enthused.

 They resumed their shopping, selecting sweaters and skirts and dresses, a warm jacket and a light windbreaker. The athletic department produced a minor mystery: though Alma eagerly chose two sweat suits and an assortment of gym wear, she balked at trying on swimsuits.

"Don't you want to learn to swim?" Jean asked, puzzled at her reluctance.

*Yes, want be strong, but …* Alma hesitated, biting her lip. *Not know words yet …*

"Just say it the best that you can," Storm encouraged.

Suddenly Jubilee remembered the crisis that morning. "It's her back. She gets weirded out by people lookin' at her scars. Haven't ya noticed? Everything she's picked out covers her back 'n' upper legs. And whenever we help her put somethin' on in the dressin' room, she doesn't turn around. Right?"

Alma nodded, trembling. *Not feel bad about hand. I lucky have. But my back … not want you see … feel shame. Ugly.*

"Don't go feelin' shame, sugah," Rogue tried to console her. "It weren't yo' fault that low-down skunk treated ya so mean. An' don't go thinkin' you is ugly just 'cause o' yo' scars! If showin' yo' back makes ya feel funny, ya c'n wear a long T-shirt ovuh yo' suit when ya swim. Ah do that when othuh folks're in the pool, so's Ah won't drain 'em accidently."

Encouraged by Rogue's thoughtful solution, Alma was restored to good spirits by changing into some of her new things. They all gave their feet a rest while Alma tried on shoes and sandals, then started on accessories. Alma decided she preferred a shoulder-strap handbag, justifying the choice by explaining: *Make hands free for talk*. They filled it with a nail file, a comb, a handkerchief, an eyeglass case, a small mirror and a clutch purse, and Alma added her alpha-board as well. She picked out several scarves and a perky baseball cap while Storm slipped away for a surreptitious call to the mansion (she returned signing *One more hour* behind Alma's back). When it came time to select costume jewelry, Alma adamantly refused to be parted from Wolverine's whistle, and they settled for some bracelets and clip-on earrings, and an inexpensive wristwatch. They took a short break for donuts and soda (Alma did not like coconut), and picked out a boxful of donuts to take back to their friends. Their final stop was at the cosmetics counter for lipstick and similar items. Alma was starting to droop with fatigue when she lifted her head and sniffed, then made a beeline for the perfumes. Her favorite scent turned out to be lavender, and they completed their purchases with a gift-pack of soap, shampoo, talcum powder and cologne.

 Dusk was gathering as they carried their loot out to the van, and Alma collapsed in her seat, took off her glasses, put them in her new purse, and rubbed the bridge of her nose with a weary sigh. She dozed off on the trip home, but woke when the gravel of the driveway crunched under the tires. A welcoming party of five men gathered on the porch to meet them as Rogue parked the van. Logan reached up to help Alma down, and froze in his tracks in astonishment. He had said goodbye to a ragamuffin in ill-fitting, borrowed clothing and unkempt hair. Now he was meeting a lovely young lady in a flowered blouse and navy-blue skirt, hair attractively arranged, whiffing most deliciously of lavender, and her eyes …

 Once again the world came to a halt as their eyes met and locked in wordless communion. Alma did not faint this time, gazing almost hungrily into Logan's eyes, letting them sweep the darkness and pain from her soul. She knew, somehow, she would never be lonely again …

 It took two coughs from Beast to break their trance. No one said a word as the two started toward the mansion, hand in hand; they simply started unloading.

 The silence was broken when Logan opened the door to Alma's new room. She gasped in disbelief at the transformation that had taken place. The main room was painted a warm pink, with rose and gold accents. The window was framed with flowered curtains, and a colorful throw rug covered the floor. The room was further brightened by pictures: a seascape on one wall, and a print of Van Gogh's "Sunflowers" on another. Against the window was a desk with lamp, chair and wastebasket. Bookshelves lined one wall, containing her sign-language dictionary and other reading material, plus a stereo. In the corner next to it was a comfortable easy chair, another lamp, and a small end table that held a vase of fresh flowers. The other side of the room held a chest of drawers with a stuffed teddy bear seated on top, and a freshly made bed whose spread matched the curtains, as well as a nightstand holding a clock-radio and a box of tissues. The bathroom was freshly painted in powder blue, fixtures were scrubbed until they sparkled, towels hung ready on racks, and the sink's counter top held a beautiful silver-backed hairbrush and matching comb.

 Tears filled Alma's eyes as she slowly drank it all in. She turned to face a grinning group of X-Men, and spotted splatters of paint in Beast's fur and Wolverine's hair. *YOU!* she signed with trembling hands. *You do all this! One day! For me!*

 "Surprise," Cyclops chuckled, and she insisted on giving them each a warm hug as well as thanking them all individually.

 "Welcome home, Alma." Professor Xavier said gently. "Welcome home."