To everyone's relief, Jubilee accepted Alma and Logan's deepening relationship with remarkable maturity. "Wolverine's always been more like a big brother than a boyfriend," she shrugged. "'Sides, I've seen how they look at each other. Why argue with the weather?" As proof, Jubilee and Alma became even closer friends, experimenting together with hairdos and makeup like typical teenagers. This made Gambit uneasy: "One teenage gal in dis house bad enough, but two?" he grumped. His misgivings were justified, for now that Alma had learned to laugh, she quickly developed an impish sense of humor. Jubilee was an eager fellow conspirator, and for a week the mansion was plagued by a rash of juvenile practical jokes. Scott and Logan had their beds short-sheeted on several occasions, Hank was drenched by a bucket of water perched over a doorway, and Rogue and Jean spent several hours untying the knots in their underwear. They sighed and tolerated the nonsense, for it was a crucial step in Alma's emotional healing. But Remy brought the pranks to an abrupt halt when he awoke to find his ponytail arranged in elaborate braids and adorned with flowered ribbons. Exploding in a tirade of French curses, he gave the two girls a furious dressing-down, promising dire consequences if they ever tampered with his hair again.

 It was the first time Alma had been shouted at or scolded since her rescue, and it was a mark of her recovery that she took Gambit's reprimand without cringing, anger or hysterics. Indeed, the incident helped bring her back to earth; ever since the Fourth of July she had been caught up in every teenage girl's favorite adolescent romantic dream come wondrously true. Her relationship with Wolverine, together with the rapid and radical changes in her life, left her feeling dazed and dreamy and unreal.

 The bubble had to burst eventually. One late July morning Jean entered the kitchen to find Alma slumped at the table, staring blearily into her teacup. When Jean greeted her, Alma merely waggled her fingers listlessly, barely lifting her head.

 "Alma, are you all right? You look like you've been dragged through a knothole."

 *I … not feel good. I not want move, I hurt all place, back hurt bad, and hurt most here.* She winced and laid her hand on her abdomen.

 "Ah, yes, I understand." Instantly sympathetic, Jean put on the kettle and prepared a cup of chamomile tea. "This may taste funny, but I find it helps me. Do you usually get cramps with your period?"

 *With my what?* Alma was confused, and her expression made it clear that she didn't understand.

 Jean gasped as realization hit her. "Oh, no! Alma, we need to talk with Hank right now!"

 Beast explained the menstrual cycle to Alma in frank, clear terms, and reassured Jean: "I am not at all surprised that she is experiencing menarche so late. Malnutrition often has that effect."

 "Malnutrition? Hank, she eats like a horse!"

 "I am referring to the malnutrition she suffered during her captivity. Alma, you did say the Cruel One fed you on raw meat, correct?"

 Alma flinched at the memories. *Yes, also dog food in can. Milk be reward.*

 "A highly improper and unbalanced diet, especially for a growing child. This could have lifelong effects, Alma. You will probably never grow much taller than you are now, I'm sorry to say."

 She shrugged. *I be what I be. Tall or short, I always be me.*

 "A very mature attitude, my dear. Now, sometime soon you will experience your first menstrual flow. It is nothing to be afraid of, it happens to every woman. Indeed, it means you are a woman, not a child, and it could serve as a trigger for whatever mutant power you may possess. If you have cramps or other pain, come see me; there are many medications especially for this situation."

 Three days later, when Alma did not appear at breakfast, Jean went to her room fearing the worst. She found her writhing in agony on her bed, gasping and clutching her belly as searing, knife-like cramps ripped through her tiny frame; her nightgown and bedsheets were spotted with blood. Jean's hands flew to her temples as she sent a mental summons: <Hank! Bring your medical kit to Alma's room! HURRY!>

 Beast arrived in moments, and quickly gave the tormented girl an injection. "Relax, Alma. Relax. You're going to be all right." Slowly her muscles unknotted as the sedative took effect and the pain eased, and finally her glazed eyes fluttered open.

 *It -- it -- always be -- this bad?* she signed shakily.

 "No, of course not," Jean reassured her. "Your body will adjust to the changes in time. My first few periods were so bad they made me throw up, but they hardly bother me now."

 *I think -- I need --* Alma shuddered and retched, then clapped a hand over her mouth and turned green. Beast got her into the bathroom just in time, and Jean helped him clean her up, changing sheets before putting a groggy Alma back to bed.

 "I'm surprised Logan isn't here," Jean commented as she wiped Alma's face with a cool cloth. "He seems to sense when Alma's in distress."

 "I believe he is working out in the Danger Room. Do you wish me to summon him, my dear?"

 Alma shook her head. *No. Just -- want rest. It okay I -- be alone -- for little? Please?*

 "Of course," Beast told her. "Sleep will do you a world of good. If you wake up feeling ill or in pain, use the intercom to whistle for me. I'll be refreshing my knowledge of gynecology to see if there is anything else I can do to make this easier for you."

But Alma was not allowed the rest and solitude she so desperately craved. She had just dozed off while Beast and Jean finished tidying up when the intercom beeped and crackled: ~"I want everyone to meet in the Conference Room right away."~

 "Professor, this is Jean. Could Alma be excused? She's not feeling well."

 ~"I'm sorry to hear that, but this directly concerns her. If she expects to be part of this team, she must learn to take orders."~ The intercom crackled again as Xavier abruptly switched off.

 "The Professor sounds unusually testy," Beast noted.

 *I need go?* Alma gestured irritably.

 "I'm afraid so," Jean sighed. "Rule Number One around here is when Professor Xavier says now, he means now. Can I help you get some clothes on? The sooner we get started, the sooner it'll be over."

 A surlier-than-usual Wolverine was the last to arrive, shirtless and still toweling off his hair. Xavier's summons had interrupted a stimulating session, and he felt like gutting something -- or someone. Alma's sullen expression warned him to expect trouble as he sat down beside her.

 "Whatsamatter, querida?" he whispered. "You look like yer 'bout ready t'bite someone."

 *Later, Logan. Please. I -- tell you later.* Even as she replied, his nose told him the answer. Blood was an all-too-familiar scent, and he'd smelled it on the other X-Women often enough. [Hoo-boy, Chuck, you better back off or there's gonna be trouble!]

 "All right, people," Xavier began without preamble. "I've delayed this meeting long enough. First, I have some good news for once. Alma, your 'Cruel One' has decided to plea-bargain, and …"

 *He not 'mine',* Alma signed; her mouth was tight, and her eyes sparked dangerously.

 Xavier scowled. "Don't interrupt. I was about to say that this means there will be no trial, and you will therefore not be called upon to testify."

 Alma sighed in relief. *I very glad. Wish I can just forget him. I not know his name and I not want know, and I never want see him again, never. Maybe now bad dreams stop.*

 "You're still having bad dreams about him and you haven't told me? How often?"

 Alma grimaced. *Almost all nights. He always in dreams, always, and some more bad than others. Some very bad ones, ones wake Jean and Logan, I think word be 'nightmare'. I not know I need tell you. Everyone not have bad dreams?*

 "Of course they do, but not every night. You've never had a good dream?"

 *Just one time, after party last month, when I sleep in Logan's arms.*

 Wolverine forced a chuckle. "That's a switch. Usually I cause nightmares, not chase 'em away." The laughter from the rest of the team was definitely strained and artificial, and tension still crackled in the air. Xavier rapped sharply on the table, and snapped:

 "That's enough, people. Now, if we can continue without further distractions, please? Alma, the bad news is that I've been attempting to trace your background and have found virtually nothing."

 Some deep intuition told Alma to be wary. Slowly she signed: *I not think that bad news. I not understand why you try again and again and again; I not care.*

 Xavier looked nettled. "You aren't interested in finding your family, or where and when you were born? Or knowing what your real name is?"

 Wolverine felt her stiffen. *My name Alma. And you-all my family, you here.*

 "I'm flattered you think of us that way, but I mean your real family: parents, brothers and sisters."

 *X-Men only brothers or sisters I need or want. I tell you very many time I not remember anything before Cruel One.*

 "You may have no conscious memory, but if you would just let me probe your mind …"

 *No.* Her gesture was abrupt, and her chin jutted defiantly.

 Xavier glared at her, and his voice was sharp. "I told you not to interrupt, young lady."

 Alma shot to her feet, glaring back and bristling with sudden anger. *I say no.*

 "Don't talk back to me!" he barked.

 *Then you not shout at me! You promise you not look in my mind without my say yes!*

 "I'm asking for your permission! I'm trying to help you!"

 *I SAY NO!* One fist slammed on the table for emphasis, then both hands blazed in furious signs. *How much I need say no before you stop ask! I not care about parents! Not want know anything about them! Charles, Cruel One say he buy me from 'stupid Mexes'. You not understand? If be true, my parents sell me for SLAVE!* And before anyone could stop her, Alma whirled and ran headlong out the door.

 "ALMA!" Wolverine vaulted clear over the table in a single bound and ran after her. The rest of the team sat speechless, completely stunned by the vehemence of Alma's furious outburst. Even Professor Xavier could find nothing to say for several minutes. Finally he spoke:

 "What on earth has gotten into her? I've never seen her so touchy and irritable."

 "It's the first day of her first period, Charles," Jean said bluntly. Rogue, Storm and Jubilee all nodded in been-there-done-that sympathy; Gambit and Cyclops turned beet red and looked uncomfortable.

 "Why didn't you tell me this earlier?" Xavier demanded.

 "I tried, Charles. You wouldn't listen."

 It was Xavier's turn to blush. "You're right, Jean," he admitted, rubbing his temples. "I really don't know why I'm so short-tempered today. Perhaps I'm subconsciously picking up Alma's agitation."

 "I've been feelin' a bit crabby too, and my period's not due for ten more days," Jubilee butted in.

 Gambit squirmed in his chair. "Did y' really hafta say dat, p'tite?"

 Rogue snickered. "Whatsamatta, swamp boy? Didn't yo' momma tell ya th' facts o' life? This is sum'thin' we gals hafta live with ev'ry month."

 "Alma is having an extremely painful and traumatic onset," Beast said hurriedly, trying to forestall another argument. "Perhaps we are all subconsciously sensing her emotional distress. I, too, felt strangely edgy this morning, and if I recall correctly, we were all very tense and irritable the day we rescued her."

 "An intriguing theory," Xavier replied. "If true, I hope she calms down soon, for all our sakes."

 Jean chuckled. "Logan will 'calm' her if anyone can."

 Xavier sighed. "I hope you're right; I must find some way to apologize to her. Well, there's no point in continuing this meeting any further right now. You are dismissed."

 "Before we go," Storm interjected, "There is something I think we all need to look at." She pointed to the spot on the table top where Alma had struck it.

 The flat marble surface was now marred by a dent. Not a crack or a chip or a discoloration, but a smooth indentation -- the exact size and shape of a small fist.

 Alma had not run very far. Wolverine found her standing in a corner of the hallway with her face to the wall, shaking from head to foot, and her glasses were smashed to pieces on the floor. "Querida," he said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. She stiffened at his touch, but did not resist as he turned her to face him. That normally resolute chin quivered, tears sparkled on her lashes, and her great dark eyes beseeched him.

 *Hold me, Logan. Please. Please. Hold me.* He gathered her into his arms; she shuddered, then buried her face in his hairy chest and burst into wild, uncontrollable tears. Her entire body was racked by the sobs her throat could not produce, and her fists hammered his shoulders. Wolverine made no attempt to restrain her: the blows barely stung, and she obviously needed the emotional release of hitting something.

 [Better me than the wall,] he thought wryly. [Guess this is all part o' bein' a boyfriend. Well, if she needs cuddle 'n' comfort, I'm glad t'oblige.] He held her close, enjoying the warmth and softness, ignoring the odor of blood that tainted the usual sweet lavender fragrance of her body. [So, querida, yer a woman now. No wonder yer so grouchy. As if we didn't have enough problems …]

 Gradually the storm of weeping passed as she cried herself out, and finally she slumped against him and sniffled. He fished a handkerchief out of his pocket and helped her blow her nose, then tucked fingertips under her chin, tilted her face up, bent his head down and brushed his lips against her eyelids, gently kissing the tears away. She lifted her head a bit further; his mouth moved over her damp cheeks, then found her lips and kissed her firmly. A wonderful warm shiver coursed through her, and she responded eagerly, snuggling against him as her arms stole around his waist.

They were both trembling when their lips finally parted some twenty heartbeats later. "So the X-Men are yer family?" Logan grinned down into her shining eyes and flushed face. "Well, I ain't interested in bein' yer brother. Not if yer gonna kiss me that way, querida." She gave him a shaky smile in return, then stood on her tiptoes, seized his sideburns, pulled his head down and kissed him again, pressing even closer as her arms slid round his neck and his arms tightened around her. Instinctively her lips came softly open; he could not resist the invitation, and their tongues met for the first time, sending waves of fire through both of them.

Alma had read about passionate kisses in several romance novels, but experiencing one was quite another matter. Startling new sensations were sweeping through her, sensations she'd never known she was capable of feeling. She found herself melting against him, shaking uncontrollably, suddenly and keenly aware of him as a man: the fusion of bone and hair and skin and muscle beneath her hands, his masculine scent and strength, the grip of his arms, and the hard warmth of his mouth. Anger and pain and fear were gone; all that mattered, all that existed was his embrace and his kiss and a fierce hunger for more.

 Never again would Logan think of Alma as a child. She might be small, but this was definitely and delightfully a woman in his arms, wonderfully warm and enticingly soft and sensuously fragrant and very very tempting … He felt a stirring deep within, and struggled for control, sternly telling his body to behave itself. Still, being absorbed in a very intense kiss did not make his guard slip completely. His sharp ears detected the soft hum of Xavier's chair behind them, and the shuffling of a number of bodies. Lifting his head, he reluctantly broke the kiss. "Whew! Where didja learn t'kiss like that, darlin'?" he whispered hoarsely, then cleared his throat and addressed the unwelcome eavesdroppers.

 "I know yer back there," he grated. "Me 'n' my girl don't like bein' interrupted, so anyone who coughs gets skinned alive. Now, buzz off!" The X-Men knew Wolverine well enough to know this was no idle threat; the slim brown arms locked around him were reason enough not to provoke him at a time like this. The only thing to do was to wait patiently until the two were finished.

 It finally ended when a sudden involuntary wave of exhaustion and nausea flooded through Alma's body. Her knees buckled, and only Wolverine's embrace kept her from collapsing completely.

 "Querida!" he gasped in alarm. "Alma, darlin', are ya okay?"

 "No, Wolverine, she is quite unwell," Beast answered for her. "I had to give her a strong dose of sedative less than an hour ago; I'm surprised she has remained conscious this long."

 Wolverine pivoted, supporting Alma with one arm while the other brandished bared claws. His fiery eyes made the assembled team all step back. "So whatcha doin' here buggin' her for?" he snarled.

 Xavier discarded the elegant speech he'd prepared and said simply, "I want to apologize to Alma."

 Outrage and anger gave strength to Alma's wobbly legs, and she drew herself proudly erect, squinting against the hallway lights. All four feet nine inches of her radiated indignation as she defiantly signed: *My answer still no, Charles. You not look in my mind.*

 To her surprise he replied in sign language: *I'm very sorry if I harassed you, Alma. I promise I won't ask again. Will you please forgive me?*

 *Not now. Maybe later. Now I can go? I need lie down before fall down.*

 *May I please show you something very important first?*

 She hesitated, then nodded in agreement, clutching Logan's arm tightly to keep herself upright as Xavier led the way back to the Conference Room. The sight of the dent in the table top made her start. *I do that?* she signed in disbelief, then extended her fist and set it in the hollow. It fitted perfectly.

 "Apparently you did, Alma," Xavier said very softly. "Do you think you can do it again?"

 *I -- try,* she replied, then traced the spot with her fingertips. *It feel different,* she signed uncertainly, then spread her hands on the table top. Nothing happened at first; she inhaled slowly to center herself, then bit her lip and tried again. Sweat beaded on her brow as she strained, then body and mind and will suddenly meshed in a way they never had before. Power surged from an unknown source within her, and she felt the table change somehow as a faint silvery glow surrounded her hands for a split second. She swayed, then lifted her hands to reveal two perfect handprints pressed into the table top. She gasped, staring in awestruck wonder, then her lashes fluttered, her eyes rolled up, and she collapsed in a dead faint.

 Logan caught her just in time to prevent her head striking the edge of the table, gathered the rag-limp girl into his arms, then faced Xavier with blazing eyes. "God damn yer lousy stinkin' soul ta Hell!" he roared. "You just couldn't leave her alone, could ya? Blast you, Xavier, doncha ever learn when t'quit?"

 "Wolverine …"

 "SHUT UP!! One more word, just one more peep outta you 'n' I swear ta God I'll rip yer flamin' lungs out!" Still carrying Alma, he stalked out of the room and kicked the door shut behind him, and a silent Xavier let him go.

 Alma lay motionless on her bed. Except for the regular rise and fall of her breathing, she had not stirred since Wolverine had set her down over three hours before. Exhaustion and worry had taken their toll on Logan; he was dozing in Alma's easy chair when a cautious knock jerked him awake.

 "Who izzit?" he growled, instantly on his feet with claws at the ready.

 "Your Friendly Neighborhood Blue-Furred Physician, Wolverine. I wish to ascertain the condition of my patient."

 A wary sniff told Wolverine that Beast was alone, and he unbolted the door and let him in. His tired face lit up as Hank handed him a food-laden tray with the comment: "I thought you might appreciate a few calories."

 "Fanks," Wolverine mumbled indistinctly around a huge bite of donut, then turned his attention to sandwiches, fruit and three more donuts.

"There's coffee in the red thermos," Beast told him as he donned his stethoscope.

"Hey, all right!" Wolverine drained two cups with a sigh of relief as the invigorating warmth spread through his veins while Beast focused on respiration, blood pressure and pulse. Wolverine waited for him to finish his readings and offered him a cup of coffee before asking: "What's in the blue one?"

"Milk. For her, when she wakes up."

Wolverine hesitated a moment. "Uh … Hank?"

Beast was instantly alert; Wolverine seldom used his real name. "Yes, Logan?"

"Thanks, Hank. Thanks fer carin'."

"I love her, too, my friend," he replied candidly. "Not the same way you do, of course, but I have become extremely fond of her these past few months. From the very first, she has looked at me, touched me, even hugged me, without fear or revulsion. You cannot know how much that means to me."

"I've been called an animal, too," Logan replied very quietly, then cleared his throat and spoke louder: "So, what's wrong with her?"

 "Nothing that rest and time will not cure. You do know what happened to her today?"

 Logan tapped his nose. "I know what it means when a gal turns cranky 'n' smells like blood."

 Hank chuckled. "You are more at ease with the concept than Remy or Scott; I have seldom seen grown men blush the way they did."

 Logan snorted in derision. "So th' Cajun ain't the ladies' man he thinks he is. Hmm -- ain't she a little late startin' this? Most gals start around ten or eleven, right?"

 "Alma's maturation has been delayed due to the poor diet of her captivity. Yes, I know she has been eating well since we rescued her, but no amount of food or vitamin supplements can completely offset the damage already done. I do not want to offend you, and I have no wish to pry into your personal lives, but as your friend and her doctor, I feel I must warn you. She could have serious difficulty with pregnancy and childbirth, and I strongly urge you to use appropriate precautions."

 Wolverine turned red, not from embarrassment but from anger. "Hell's bells, Hank, not you too? Does everyone in this damn joint think I'm some sorta child molester? She's jailbait, bub. I ain't that dumb; if I was t'mess with her, Xavier'd prob'ly haul me up fer statutory rape."

 "I think you misjudge him, but for her sake, I am grateful for your patience." No trace of ridicule or scorn showed in Beast's voice or face.

 "You damn well better be. God knows it ain't gonna be easy keepin' my hands off her. I want her like crazy, but I gotta wait till she's legally old enough, or I'd never forgive myself." Logan sighed, gazing at the tiny figure on the bed. The naked longing and love on his face put a lump in Beast's throat.

 "She will be all right, my friend," he consoled, putting a hand on Logan's shoulder. "She is simply exhausted. Between the stress of menstrual onset, the emotional upheaval of today's events, the first display of her powers, and the sedative I gave her, it is no wonder she has remained unconscious this long."

 "Why'd she need a sedative?"

 "She was suffering excruciating cramps and severe nausea. Make certain she drinks plenty of water when she awakens: she is definitely dehydrated."

 Wolverine's heart leaped at the sound of a faint sigh from the bed. "I'll get some right now, it sounds like she's comin' around!"

 "It appears you are correct. Switch off the room lights as well, if you would."

 Alma did not want to wake up; she was floating peacefully in a dark sea of painless oblivion. But a familiar voice was calling her name, and something smooth and hard and curved was pressing against her lower lip. A burst of cool wetness flooded into her mouth, bringing awareness with it. [Water! Water!] Her parched throat begged for moisture, and she swallowed so hard she nearly choked. "Slowly, my dear. Sip it slowly." She obeyed, letting the water work its cool magic as it seeped through her. It took all her strength just to lift her eyelids; swimming before her were two blurry ovals, one blue, one white.

 "Would you get her some more?"

 "Sure." The white oval vanished; she heard a splashing noise, then the white oval reappeared and the glass was back again. She drained it gratefully; it was refilled, and she emptied it again. She managed to blink several times, and the two blurry ovals gradually resolved into two cherished faces: Hank's and Logan's. She tried to sign, but her limp and leaden hands barely twitched: *Lo-gan …* Hands surrounded her own in a warm, comforting grip.

 "I'm right here, querida. Don't try t'talk." She blinked again, trying to focus. Logan's face was etched with lines of worry, his mouth looked drawn and tired, and his eyes …

 Beast decided not to cough this time. These two needed to draw what strength and solace they could from one another.

 It took two full days for Alma to recover completely, and she spent most of her waking hours deep in thought. On the third day, after a bath and a huge meal, she politely asked for everyone to meet in the Conference Room: *I need say something you all need know.* When the team had assembled, she began:

 *Few days ago many words be say here that maybe should not say. Word 'sorry' not take those words away, but want say I sorry if my words hurt anyone.*

 "I'm sorry, too, Alma," the Professor said gently. "You're right that apologizing can't change the fact that angry words were said, but it helps to put the incident behind us."

 Alma nodded, then continued: *I know you want know about me all time I be here. It be very hard I tell this, so please not interrupt, but I think you have right know. This what I remember …

 *Sometimes I see two faces in dreams. Maybe my parents, but dreams always so-very bad I not want learn if true. Not know how Cruel One get me from them, he say he buy me, but he tell many other lies and I not know what believe. All I remember when very little be cage in his truck, cold and hungry and dirty always, many freak shows and cheap motels. He learn fast I like milk, and he use it for reward, make me do animal tricks -- 'sit up', 'roll over', things like that -- and my shows get money for him. He watch TV in motels we stay in. I watch too, that how I learn most English. Also how I start learn 'be people', because I never see anyone look like me live in cage or wear leash. I start learn I not animal he say I be. I start hate eat raw meat and dog food. Please not make ugly face, Jubilee. I need eat it, I not get any other food, and if you enough hungry you eat anything. But not mean I like it.

 *I think maybe three-four years ago, things start change. One day woman at show see me in cage and say, 'Oh, you poor thing.' Her face look like feel sorry for me. I cry, put arm through bars, try touch her. Cruel One hit my arm with stick, and she get mad. She shout at him, ask how he treat human like that, and say she call police. Many people ask money back. It first time he beat me real bad, with belt. He hit, slap me before, but this … I not-can do show for two-three days. Professor, I still not care we not find my parents, but someday I want find that woman and thank her, even if make Cruel One treat me more bad. She first person I remember know right away I not animal, and try help me, not laugh at me.

 *Now we only stay same place maybe two days. Sometimes leave very fast, sometimes car chase us, car with light on top.* Alma twirled her finger in the air to indicate the revolving lights of a police car. *It get hard for him find big show take me, and he start drink lots. He hit me more, and more hard. Any time I do something he think be 'too human', or if I show feelings …*

 Alma was shaking visibly as the tide of memory flowed from her hands, and she was grateful for the comfort and support of Wolverine's arm around her waist. Several handkerchiefs were in use around the conference table, but no one dreamed of interrupting Alma's dreadful story.

 *Less money now, and he spend more on alcohol. I afraid more of him now, not just hate, because when he drunk he sometimes beat me for no good reason. Two-three times he beat me with belt till I faint just because I try touch person. When he not drunk, I try everything I can think, show him I not animal, but he not-can see, or else beat me again. If I not do show, he starve me, one time three days …

 *Winter just past, not long before you come, he try make me be more like animal for make more money. Too many shows he only get three-four dollars, or nothing. He try make me eat from bowl with mouth like dog, not use hand for eat, not just for shows but always. I hate, fight him always, but he more strong. He tie hands three-four days, hit hand with stick, but I always try eat with hand because it what people do. He -- he then … he burn my -- my fingers with -- with cigarette …* She paused, fighting to control her shaking hands, her face pale and sweating. *It -- it hurt so-very very bad … I faint each time and food come out mouth. So-very bad hurt and bad feeling in head and heart … you not know how bad it be. I think always life never good, I never get away, start want die … think die only way end hurt.

 *Last time he beat me, when you come, we make no money from four-five shows, so he try -- he try use … think word be -- be 'file', make -- make my -- my teeth sharp like Hank, make me look more like animal. I scratch his face, fight so-very hard that he shout dirty words and step on hand very hard and kick me and throw me at wall … I faint. When I wake up I be tie up and hurt all place and cry and -- and he have -- he have file -- have file in his hand. When -- when he try use I -- I bite him …*

 "GOOD FOR YOU!!!" nine voices said in unison, and Wolverine added, "I hope ya took a chunk outta him, querida. You got guts enough fer three."

 *Thank you, Logan, but please, my friends, still have words need say. I bite him because I want make him so mad he -- he kill me. I know it wrong now, but then … I -- I want die … I hate life of hurt and hate and fear and shame … I think if you not come when you do, he kill me and I -- and I be glad …* Alma was shaking so much she could not go on, and clung to the table's edge so hard that her knuckles turned white. Once again the faint silver glow surrounded her hands, and everyone could clearly see her fingers sinking into the table as if the wood and stone were soft clay.

 It was the irrepressible Gambit who finally spoke. "Nuttin' f' you t'be 'shamed of, cher'. Shame belong t' dat Cruel One. Relax, p'tite, it all over now, an' time t'try 'n' f'get. You here 'n' you alive 'n' we all happy 'bout dat. Now you better take it easy 'fore Xavier gotta buy anudder table."

 Alma started at his words, then blushed as she saw the grooves her fingers had made in the table's edge. *Sorry,* she signed, then covered the grooves with her hands and concentrated. When she lifted her hands, the table was as smooth and unmarked as the day it had been purchased.

 "Fascinating," Beast murmured, and she smiled wanly.

 *I wish past go away so easy,* she signed slowly. *Just one more thing. I owe you all my life, my freedom, my mind. No word or sign say thank you big enough, but thank you, Jean. Thank you, Scott. Thank you, Rogue. Thank you, Remy. Thank you, Charles. Thank you, Hank. Thank you, Jubilee. Thank you, Ororo. Thank you, Logan. I like -- I want very much be one of you, as much as I can. You teach me how 'be people', with love and respect and friendship. You teach me how be X-Man? Please?*

 The raucous outburst of affirmative whistles and cheers and applause brought tears to her eyes.