Before her rescue, Alma's world had been limited -- literally -- to the bars of a cage, and her knowledge of that world had been restricted to a few meager facts gleaned from television. Now, thanks to computers, books, and loving friends, a strange, sometimes frightening yet wonderful new world was hers to explore. That first unforgettable spring was a time of rare and treasured joy for the X-Men as they watched Alma blossom and grow, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Everyone helped to teach her, and she quickly became a willing pupil. Some lessons came harder than most, and many had unexpected side effects, but all helped in the development of Alma's personality, so long repressed and denied.

The team found they had to work hard to resist the temptation to overindulge their new friend in those early days. She'd had so little all her life, and was so pathetically grateful for the least kindness, that it would have been terrifyingly easy to spoil her rotten. However, she already knew the meaning of "danger", and quickly understood that there were good reasons why there were places she was not yet allowed to go (Hank's lab, the Danger Room), things she was not allowed to do, and the need for discipline and rules. Besides, her new life kept her far too busy to worry -- every day brought something new to learn or do.

She was obsessed with sign language, studying and practicing so intensely that the team was hard-pressed to keep up with her. All her life, Alma's inability to speak had meant pain and misery and shame. Now sign language finally gave her a way to express her needs and thoughts and feelings, and it was like a floodgate being opened. She reveled in the satisfaction of being able to communicate, and was sometimes so eager to "talk" that her hands couldn't keep up with her thoughts. The X-Men found they were fascinated by the grace and eloquence of the silent language. Wolverine and Gambit were quick to point out the tactical advantages of being able to communicate soundlessly, and no one needed to be reminded to "do their homework". Group conversation became a mixture of verbal and manual speech, since they found that forming the signs themselves helped them learn more quickly, and everyone helped to invent individual "name-signs" for each of them.

Alma's mental and intellectual growth was phenomenal. Insatiably curious and eager to learn about this new world, she became an incurable bookworm and read everything she could get her hands on, from Beast's medical works to Jubilee's teen magazines. Anthropology fascinated her (*So-very many ways be people!*); history, both natural and human, helped reveal the world to her. She started learning to write as soon as her hand could manipulate a pen, and mathematics was also added to her study schedule. Beast supervised her "schooling", and patiently answered her innumerable questions as best he could.

 Her body was developing almost as fast as her mind. Wolverine took charge of her physical conditioning, putting her on a carefully-monitored exercise program designed for strength, agility, and stamina. The first few sessions were awkward, as their uncertain and unspoken feelings for each other were a distraction until Wolverine's iron discipline regained control. Alma readily accepted the repetitive and rigorous drills: *Want be strong,* she insisted. *No one ever hit me again.* She enjoyed her workouts partly because they allowed her to spend time with Logan, but she was also finding a new source of pride in the health and vigor of her developing body. With physical strength and agility came poise, confidence and self-assurance. When she no longer flinched at a clenched fist, Wolverine paved the way for martial arts by teaching her tai-chi. She took to it like a duck to water, with a light step and fluid grace that turned the old Chinese exercise into a beautiful, stately dance. Hearty meals and workouts each day made her skin glow like burnished bronze, and her arms and legs grew curved with muscle. Other curves began to develop elsewhere, and Logan found it was more than just her eyes that haunted his dreams …

Professor Xavier tested her to determine her abilities and limitations. She showed no evidence of special powers yet, and was indeed partly colorblind, though hearing, smell and other senses were normal. As suspected, though, her night vision was highly acute, far better than Wolverine's. She saw clearly in almost total darkness and could read fine print by starlight. She could also see into the infrared spectra in compensation for her colorblindness. However, ordinary light hurt; one lamp had to be removed from her room, and low-wattage bulbs installed in the others. Without protection, normal daylight gave her blinding headaches, and explosions or bright flashes were agonizing. Cyclops understood eye protection better than any of the other X-Men, and he worked together with Beast to develop an adjustable visor somewhat like his own for the day when (or if) Alma became a member of the team. Scott also gave her tips on fitting ordinary dark glasses, and making them more comfortable to wear. "You're lucky in a way, Alma," he told her. "At least you can take your glasses off sometimes. I have to wear mine even in bed or in the shower."

It was learning to "be people" -- all the myriad nuances of human behavior and culture -- that Alma found most fascinating, as well as the most challenging. There were so many things the team had known from childhood that she had never had the opportunity to learn, such as slang terms, the subtleties of body language, manners and other social niceties.

There were many new freedoms and privileges to enjoy. Having been hungry most of her life, it was a source of amazement for Alma that she was not just allowed but encouraged to go to the refrigerator and get an orange or a glass of milk whenever she pleased. Unfortunately, her first attempts at cooking were a resounding failure: she got baking powder mixed up with baking soda, confused teaspoons with tablespoons, and blew up the toaster by buttering the bread before inserting it. This fiasco turned out to be a blessing in disguise, for when no one even scolded Alma, let alone punished or beat her, it bolstered her confidence and made her more willing to "try, try again."

Teasing and jokes left her baffled and confused at first, and the idea of doing things "for fun" was totally alien to her. Still, she tried. Jubilee showed her how to rollerblade and skateboard, Rogue and Storm took her horseback riding, and Remy taught her to shoot pool and play cards: blackjack, poker, gin rummy, and several forms of solitaire. Although Alma had trouble grasping the point of gambling, poker did help clarify slang terms like "ace in the hole", "wild card", "square deal", and "not playing with a full deck".

Personal hygiene and grooming took very little teaching. The filth and squalor of her captivity had made her almost obsessively tidy, with a natural cat-like love of cleanliness. Her room was always neat as a pin once she got over being startled by the roar of the vacuum cleaner. Rogue taught her how to care for her clothing, how to sew on buttons and use the laundry facilities, and she showered or bathed daily. This led to an unexpected lesson one evening when Storm knocked on Alma's door in the middle of her bath. Alma answered the door stark naked, dripping wet, and without the slightest trace of embarrassment.

 "I am puzzled, Alma," Storm admitted when the girl was dry and in pajamas. "You are hesitant about showing your scars, yet it does not bother you to reveal the rest of your body."

*It wrong be naked?* Alma asked.

 "Not exactly." Storm thought a moment, then asked: "Do you understand the idea of privacy?"

 *Little. Things some people not like talk about, like use toilet.*

 "That is part of it. For instance, you are reluctant to talk about your past because the memories are painful for you. Sometimes it helps to talk about them, but they are your memories, and you share them when and with whom you choose. Everyone has painful memories, and sharing them can be difficult."

 *Like Logan's claws?*

 "Yes, and although I know a part of how he got them, I will not tell you."

 Suddenly Alma understood. *Because it his story, and you not tell without he say yes.*

 "Exactly. This is why Professor Xavier promised not to enter your mind without your permission, he is respecting your privacy. Your body is your own as well. I know you enjoy being hugged, and I am very pleased that you are losing your fear of being touched, but there are evil people who enjoy using children and young people sexually, and you should be wary of strangers attempting to touch you."

 Alma nodded, her face bleak. *Hank and Logan both tell me. Word be 'pervert', yes?*

 Storm's face was equally bleak. "Yes. That is one reason Logan gave you your whistle, to summon help. However, we are getting off the subject of privacy. It is also why we knock on doors. This is your room, and we do not come in without your permission unless there is an emergency."

 *But if you knock my door, you not-can see hands say 'wait minute, I get robe'. When I knock your door, you ask 'who?', how I tell you 'Alma' if you not look me?*

 Storm frowned. "You have a point, Alma, and one I had not considered. Perhaps we should discuss this problem as a group and find a solution."

 Discussion turned out to be unnecessary, however, for Jubilee accidentally found an answer the following morning. She entered the kitchen to find Alma breakfasting on cold cereal (no cooking required) and hot tea (she still disliked coffee, but had developed a taste for Constant Comment and Earl Grey).

 "Mornin', Alma," Jubilee greeted her. "D'ya know if there's any Frosted Flakes left?"

 *Not know, and this last Raisin Bran.*

 "Bummer. Someone's gonna hafta do some grocery shopping." Jubilee rummaged through cupboards, whistling tunelessly, then jumped in surprise when she heard a clatter behind her. Alma was half out of her chair, staring at Jubilee as soggy cereal soaked her lap. "You okay, Alma? What's wrong?"

 *That noise you make!*

 "You mean this?" Jubilee pursed her lips and whistled a few notes.

 *Yes yes! How you do that?*

 "Well, let's clean this mess up 'n' I'll show ya after I get some breakfast."

 They mopped up milk and spilt cereal and got Alma into clean clothes, then barricaded themselves in her room. Jubilee had to demonstrate several times, and it took some practice, but Alma finally got the knack. *I can make noise! I can make noise!* she signed, bouncing on the bed with glee.

 "I've heard ya make other noises, like when ya sneeze or sniffle, but this is totally cool! Let's surprise the others at lunch, okay?"

 Their surprise was perfectly timed. The other X-Men had just started discussing Storm's concern when Jubilee burst in bragging: "Look what I taught Alma!" Both received lavish praise for the feat. "Darn good job, Jubilee," Wolverine told her proudly. "I'm surprised no one thought o' this earlier."

 Just as they had invented individual name-signs, everyone pitched in to develop signature whistles for each of them. Alma was overjoyed that she could now get a specific person's attention from a distance, as well as being able to announce her presence. Certain whistled cadences were agreed to mean "Come in," "Just a moment," "Who is it?" and other useful phrases, and Alma also mastered the shrill attention-getting "whee-up" through her teeth. The silver whistle Logan had given her was to be reserved for emergencies, or when her mouth was too dry. Further experiments revealed other sounds Alma could make: snapping her fingers, "razzberries" and Bronx cheers, and blowing into her fists to make an eerie hooting noise.

 "I'm very proud of you all," Professor Xavier told them. "Thanks to your help and friendship, Alma has been progressing faster and better than I ever dared hope."

 There were dark days and difficulties, of course, and things did not always run smoothly.

Alma's lack of "people" knowledge created much confusion. Gambit's attempts at flirtation were received with a blank look, which hurt his pride until he thought it through. Alma also had a steely stubborn streak; she would not have survived her captivity otherwise. When she found she could say *No* without punishment, and have that *No* respected, there were several contests of will between her and the Professor. She resisted his efforts to question her about her past (*Remember make hurt*), and adamantly refused to let him probe her mind. Xavier indulged her, since keeping her trust was far more critical than unraveling her history.

It was clear that her mental and emotional hurts were healing more slowly than her physical ones. Like most abuse victims, Alma had trouble believing her friends' reassurances that she would not be beaten when she made mistakes or did something wrong. She often suffered from panic attacks; her first trip to the grocery store had to be aborted when she "went ballistic" in the pet food aisle. The team did their best to prevent these attacks, but they still knew too little about her past to guess what might trigger one. They understood her recoil at the sight or scent of cigarettes, or her hysterical tears upon seeing a caged or leashed animal. But she couldn't or wouldn't tell why a carpenter's file caused such terror (it took the joint efforts of Jean, Jubilee, and Logan over an hour to coax her out from under her bed). She was often plagued by bad dreams as well. One evening, after being allowed to stay up late to watch a special TV program, Alma was "channel-surfing" when she suddenly gasped and sat up straight, her eyes glued to the screen.

 "Is something wrong, Alma?" Jean asked after seeing what had caught the girl's attention: a public service announcement on one of the Hispanic/Latino stations.

 *I understand him!* she signed, looking scared. *He not talk English, but I understand him!*

 "That's Spanish he's speaking. Hank and Dr. O'Dell think you're Hispanic in origin, and Spanish is what Hispanic people speak. That's why they're called that."

 Alma looked bewildered. *But I not remember hear anyone talk like that. Cruel One always talk English. All talk I remember hear be English!*

 "Well, you probably heard Spanish when you were very little, before the Cruel One got hold of you. It's nothing to worry about, so go brush your teeth and we'll talk about it in the morning, okay? It's long past your bedtime."

 Jean awoke about two in the morning with a sense of foreboding. Sleepily she scanned psychically for the problem, coming fully alert when she "heard" a mental shriek of terror from Alma. Jean grabbed her robe, raced for Alma's room, rounded the corner and nearly ran headlong into a kimono-clad Wolverine.

 "What are you doing here?" Jean gasped when she got her breath back.

 "Somethin's wrong with Alma."

 "I know, that's why I'm here, but how did you know?"

 "Discuss it later, okay? Let's worry about how after we find out what."

 They paused outside Alma's door while Logan sniffed and listened. "Don't smell anyone else in there, but she's sure as heck scared o' something." He opened the door a crack and peered in. "Nope, no one's there but her. Alma?" he called softly, then pushed the door open and went in. Alma was thrashing around in her bed, panting like a marathon runner while her arms flailed wildly. Her face was a contorted mask of fear, and her tight-closed eyes gave the final clue.

 "She's having a nightmare!" Jean whispered.

 "Must be a doozy," Logan agreed, then took Alma by the shoulder and gently shook her. "Hey, Alma, wake up!" he urged. "C'mon, darlin', wake up!" Suddenly she sat up, chest heaving, fists warding off some unseen enemy, eyes wide and staring at nothing. Logan shook her again. "Alma, yer dreamin'. C'mon, wake up."

 She blinked as comprehension spread over her face. *Logan. Logan. It you. It true you.*

 "It's really me, kid. You were just havin' a bad dream." She covered her face and began to shiver violently, and he put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. "Easy, Alma, easy," he said softly, his usually harsh voice gentle and soothing. "It's okay. It was just a dream."

 [My, what Sabretooth would say about this!] Jean thought, hiding a smile. [The savage Wolverine comforting a frightened little girl? But then Alma isn't a little girl, I need to stop thinking of her that way.]

 When Alma finally calmed down, it took some persuasion from both Jean and Logan before she agreed to discuss her dream. *Not Cruel One first. Two people, man and woman. I not remember see them before, but I know them.*

 "What did they look like? Did they say anything?" Jean prompted.

 *They have brown skin and black hair, like me. Man have hair here.* Alma touched her upper lip. *They talk Spanish, I know it Spanish but I not understand words. That part what scare me. Then very-fast they go and Cruel One there. I try run away but not-can do.* She shivered again.

 "Alma, I'm sorry," Jean apologized contritely. "This was my fault, I should have talked to you right when you heard that announcement and got upset. Do you think you can go back to sleep now?" Alma lay back down, and Wolverine stayed beside her, holding her hand until she slept peacefully.

 Alma was her usual perky self the next morning, and although she heard Spanish numerous times over the next few weeks, that particular nightmare did not return. She was reluctant to discuss her dreams further, however, and the team respected her wishes.

 Beast was worried. Teaching Alma was a pleasure, not a chore, and a warm friendship had sprung up between them. She never forgot that he had named her and given her an identity, and she made a point of always addressing him as "Hank". He was deeply moved by her so-what-no-big-deal attitude towards his bizarre appearance: she touched or hugged him as readily as she did the other X-Men. It was a joy to have such an apt and eager student, and he had taken enormous pleasure in introducing her to Shakespeare and other great works of literature, as well as music and art. He was ecstatic when she grew to like classical and jazz music; here at last was someone who shared some of his tastes. (She especially enjoyed flute music, and her CD collection featured many selections by Rampal and Galway). But he was concerned that she might be studying too hard, for she had not taken a day off since they had begun her lessons. "'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'," he quoted one evening after checking her homework.

 She looked puzzled and replied: *Not understand.*

 "An old proverb, my dear. You have been working very hard; you deserve to take a break and have some fun once in a while."

 *What be 'fun'?* she asked. Her expression told him it wasn't a rhetorical question. *This part 'be people' I very not understand. Hank, why people laugh? Why Jubilee buy clothes she not need? Why people tease, like Logan call Remy 'Gumbo' or 'Cajun'? WHY?*

 Beast suddenly realized that although Alma now smiled readily and showed many other emotions, she still had not laughed. They discussed the topic for over an hour, but Alma was as confused as ever. "It is a difficult conundrum," he finally admitted, "and one I feel you must learn by experience. So, tomorrow we will not have your regular lessons; instead, your task will be to study 'fun', preferably by having some."

 Wolverine scowled when he found Alma warming up in the gym the next morning. "I thought Beast gave ya the day off."

 *Hank do. You not.*

 "Alma, a day off means a day off, no lessons, no drills, no nothin'. Yer supposed t'have fun today, remember?"

 She sighed forlornly. *Logan, I not know how.*

 "I have trouble with the idea m'self sometimes," he admitted. "You could try doin' somethin' you already like t'do, but do it in a different way."

 *Not sure I understand.*

 Logan thought a moment. "You like learnin' about animals, doncha? You like t'read about 'em an' watch 'em on TV, right? Ever thought about goin' t'the zoo 'n' seein' the real thing?"

 Alma shuddered in revulsion. *Cages,* she replied, her hands trembling.

 Wolverine winced and smacked his forehead, mentally cursing himself. "I'm sorry, darlin', I didn't mean t'remind you. Well, I don't care fer cages much m'self, either, but in most zoos nowadays the bars are there t'keep people out, not t'keep the animals in. Besides" -- he bared his claws -- "nobody's gonna put you in a cage as long as I'm around."

 *You be say you come with me?* she signed, eyes wide, barely daring to believe it. [A day with Logan? Just us two? ¡OLÉ!]

 "'Course I am! What didja think I meant? 'Sides, it's easier t'have fun if ya share it with someone."

 The trip turned out to be far more pleasurable than either had anticipated. Since it was a weekday, the zoo wasn't overly crowded, and puffy white clouds kept the late June sun from being oppressively warm. They concentrated on the open paddocks where giraffes and llamas and kangaroos roamed freely, and Alma was captivated. She loved the nocturnal exhibit where she could take off her dark glasses, stood unflinching while an elephant took a peanut from her upturned palm, saw a cow being milked, watched in fascination as a chick pecked its way out of its shell, and Wolverine nearly had to drag her out of the petting zoo. Of course, the fact that she was with Logan gave an added excitement to her day …

 Logan had resigned himself to the role of bored-but-indulgent escort, but to his surprise, he found he was actually enjoying himself as they strolled the paths, Alma's tiny hand lost in his. [Ain't felt this relaxed in ages,] he mused as they rested their feet on a shady bench and lunched on hot dogs and popcorn. [I wonder if …] At first he resisted that line of thought, then decided he might as well confront it, since Alma was distracted by a mob of pigeons and squirrels begging for crumbs. He finally had to admit that the reason for his good mood was Alma herself: he was comfortable, even happy in her presence, and he enjoyed simply being with her. The bond forged when their eyes first met was growing stronger every day, and he no longer cared about their age difference. He admired the courage she had shown in trusting the X-Men, her resilient recovery from her brutal ordeal, her hunger to learn and grow and be. Fate had brought them together; maybe, just maybe this time Fate would be kind enough to let them love each other …

 Alma's gasp and start brought Logan out of his reverie. One squirrel, bolder than the others, had jumped onto the toe of her sneaker and was looking at her expectantly. "He's just lookin' fer more popcorn, greedy little beggar. Toss it to him; squirrels c'n bite." Alma scattered the rest of the crumbs and dusted off her hands. "So, d'ya think yer havin' fun?"

 *Not sure. I happy, yes. I like see animals, and it good be outside even if sun hurt my eyes little. And …* Shyness suddenly gripped her, and her hands dropped to her lap.

 "And?" he prompted, suspecting what was coming next.

 *I … like be with you.* Her eyes were fixed on the ground, but Wolverine could see the blush spreading over her cheeks.

 "Alma, look at me." Slowly she raised her head, and what she saw in his face made her insides quiver. "I like bein' with you, too. I ain't been this happy fer a long, long, long time, but I'm a little nervous 'bout what I think may be happenin'."

 *Scare me, too. Just-now start learn who and what I be, and what mean 'be people'. So-very much I need learn, so-very many things I still fear …* She shivered slightly.

 His arm had gone around her shoulders without his quite knowing how it got there. Had Logan been given another second, he would have kissed her, and Alma would have let him, but the moment was shattered by a peacock's shrill cry, and they both jumped half out of their skins. It was an indication of Alma's influence that Wolverine did not instantly decapitate the bird, but merely blew out his breath in an explosive sigh and said: "I think when we go out ta dinner tonight I'm gonna order roast peacock."

 *That be joke, yes?*

 "Sorta. We are goin' out ta dinner, though. After all, I guess this counts as our first date, querida."

 Alma caught her breath, her eyes went wide, and her heart skipped a beat. *Logan, that word -- *

 "I know what it means, Alma; I speak Spanish, too. Or does hearin' Spanish still spook ya?"

 She blushed again, but replied: *No more. I think Spanish never scare me again.*

 "Good. Whaddaya wanna see next? 'Lions 'n' tigers 'n' bears, oh my'?"

 They resumed their tour at a leisurely pace, lingering beside shady ponds of waterfowl, enjoying being together as much as viewing the animals. They paused at the deer yard when Alma saw twin fawns, and was overjoyed when one came up to the fence and licked her finger. The only blot on the day was that Alma didn't laugh. She was enjoying herself hugely, but nothing happened that was notably funny. Logan hoped otter antics might produce a giggle, but the afternoon heat had driven the otters into their den. [Don't fret, she'll laugh soon enough,] he thought. [How would a mute person laugh, anyway?] They avoided the Monkey House's barred enclosures and the Aviary's flight cages, satisfying themselves with bears and wolves and bison as the afternoon slid by. Finally, as they exited the Reptile House (Alma had not shown any fear of snakes), Wolverine's stomach rumbled audibly, and Alma froze, staring at him. "I think that's chow call, Alma," he said, looking sheepish. "I'm starved; you ready ta head outta here 'n' have dinner?"

 *Yes! I hungry too, but this be so-very good time, I not feel hungry before now.*

 "That sounds like a good definition o' fun ta me. You haven't had Japanese food yet, right? Willin' t'try' teriyaki chicken or cucumber rolls, or maybe sashimi?"

 Alma fell in love with sushi and yakisoba noodles and learned to handle chopsticks with ease, and they both stuffed themselves. At last Logan put down his napkin with a sigh. "I hate t'say it, querida, but I think I'd better getcha home or Prof's gonna have my hide fer a doormat. There'll be other times, an' I think you c'n tell Beast that you had fun."

 *I not laugh, Logan.*

 "You will, Alma. You will, trust me."

 The day Alma learned to laugh was a day no one would ever forget. The Fourth of July dawned cloudless, bright and hot. A federal holiday meant one for the team as well, and after a lavish breakfast most of them spent the rest of the morning loafing. The afternoon heat drove everyone to the pool with lemonade and snacks, where some lolled in deck chairs while the more energetic dove or swam to cool off.

 It was Jubilee who started it by playfully splashing Gambit. He promptly grabbed her and tossed her in the pool, and the single splash rapidly escalated into a full-scale water fight. Buckets and bodies flew in every direction, and the air rang with shouts and squeals of laughter. Two huge eyes shaded by dark goggles studied the horseplay in slowly dawning comprehension …

 Wolverine was watching Gambit and Cyclops swinging Storm by the wrists and ankles, debating whether or not to join in the action, when ker-SPLOOSH! a bucketful of water drenched him from behind. He catapulted out of his chair and whirled around to find Alma standing there with an empty bucket in her hands and a mischievous grin on her face. She was panting in an odd, rhythmic fashion and making faint nasal snorts, and it took a moment for the bewildered Wolverine to realize what was happening.

 Alma was laughing!

 The water fight had awakened a place deep within her that she had never known was there before. For the first time she understood the difference between laughing at someone in mockery and scorn, and laughing with someone in shared joy. Somehow she knew Logan wasn't really angry as he charged at her, growling "Why, you little …" Alma dropped the bucket and fled in pretended terror, her fingers fluttering in a rapid series of letters: "h" and "a", over and over. *Ha ha ha ha ha ha!*, she "giggled" in delight.

 Logan caught up with her, grabbed her, and dragged her to the pool while she wiggled and kicked playfully. "Okay, kid, you asked fer it!" he roared, shoved her in and dove after her with a wild warwhoop.

 <Jean?> Scott sent his thought to her along their psychic link. <Did you see what I just saw?>

 <Yes, darling! I think it's marvelous! WHOOPEE!>

 The water fight resumed with even wilder abandon. Rogue grabbed Beast and carried him thirty feet in the air before dropping him to hit the water in a cannonball of tsunamic proportions. Jubilee lit up the pool with multicolored energy bursts, Logan ducked everyone he could grab, Rogue and Storm danced together on the water's surface, and Alma darted left and right, flinging bucketsful of water everywhere.

 Suddenly the chaos was interrupted by a call that rang in ears and minds: "WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON?!" The X-Men turned guiltily to see Professor Xavier glaring at them while his chair hovered near the pool. Then Jean saw he was unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile, and his eyes were twinkling.

 "Why, we're having a water fight, of course!" she cried joyfully. "Come on in, the water's fine!" And to everyone's amazement, she telekinetically lifted Xavier out of his chair and threw him in the pool, clothes and all.

 It was a magical time. For the rest of that glorious day, all their cares and worries vanished; it was as if Apocalypse, Magneto and the Friends of Humanity had never existed. No one could remember either Logan or Xavier laughing so much or so freely. When the water fight finally died down, the party moved to the patio as people slipped away for quick showers and dry clothes. Scott fired up the barbecue, and they all feasted on hamburgers and corn on the cob and potato salad. When dusk fell, Jubilee, Gambit and Storm joined forces to create their own Independence Day fireworks, and Rogue cranked up the stereo full blast. But the life and soul of the party was Alma. Her hands flew in sign language jokes, and her entire body radiated laughter and joy. No one had to teach her to dance; music and happiness were enough to guide her feet, and her eyes literally glowed behind her dark glasses.

 It was sheer exhaustion that finally brought the jamboree to an end, and once again it was Jubilee who gave the signal with an enormous yawn.

 "All good things must come to an end, my friends," Beast sighed sadly. "I think the party is over."

 "SH-H-H!" Rogue hushed frantically, then pointed to the corner of the rec room. Wolverine was sprawled in an easy chair, sound asleep. Curled up in his lap, also asleep with her head nestled on his shoulder, was Alma. His arms were firmly locked around her, and her right hand rested on his chest with the fingers curled in a sign they all knew well. Logan's perpetual scowl was gone, replaced by a look of contented peace that Jean had hoped and prayed but never truly expected to see.

 "I don' believe it," Gambit whispered. "Look like dat lil' gal tame our wild man."

 <Come on, people,> Xavier's thought rang in their heads as he herded the team to the door. <I think they might appreciate some privacy.>

*****

 Logan neither knew nor cared what time it was when he awoke. His cheek was resting on silky, lavender-fragrant hair, and a soft, warm bundle was snuggled into the curve of his shoulder. It fitted quite nicely, as if it belonged, and he was very satisfied to have it there. Although the room was dark, his sharp eyes could easily study the details of Alma's face: the smooth, gracefully rounded curves of chin, jaw, cheekbone and eyebrow; the faint smile tucked in one corner of her mouth; the wide forehead, smoothed in slumber; long dark lashes shielding the eyes which had stolen his heart. Then he noticed the sign Alma's fingers still made, a sign that he, too, knew well: the hand was flat, with index and little fingers pointing upwards, the middle and ring fingers curled against the palm, and the thumb thrust straight out to the side.

 It meant, "I love you."

 [I love you too, querida mía,] Logan thought while his heart raced. [I'm just sorry it took me so long t'admit it, my Alma -- my soul. Boy, Hank sure named you well. If there is a God, He better help us both, 'cause I love you too.]

 Alma stirred in his arms, every nerve instantly alert to his nearness. "Hola, querida," he whispered as her lashes fluttered open, almost losing himself for a moment in the ebon depths of her luminous eyes. She lifted a hand, touching his lips to silence him, then her fingertips gently began exploring the contours of his face. She had longed to touch him; now she savored the texture of his warm skin as her questing fingertips moved across his forehead and down the line of his nose, explored the cleft in his chin, brushed over the stubble along his jaw, and twined through his shaggy sideburn. Logan closed his eyes as quivers of sheer delight ran through him. Her touch was light and delicate, as though he were being caressed by a wisp of thistledown. It was almost more than he could bear, and when her hand crept across his temple and curved round the back of his head, a fraction of an ounce of pressure was all the invitation he needed.

 It was Alma's first kiss, and it healed something in her. For the first time in her life, she was able to forget the terror and pain of her past, losing herself in now, secure in the circle of Wolverine's arms.

 Logan, too, found an unexpected healing. There had been other women in his life, of course, other women he had known and loved in various ways and to varying degrees, but this was not "other women".

 This was Alma.