Alma had another nightmare that night, a hideous one, and her psychic shrieks of anguish and terror awakened not only Logan and Jean, but Professor Xavier as well. "Wolverine, how did you know Alma was having a nightmare?" he asked as he watched Logan trying in vain to calm the hysterically weeping girl. "I can understand Jean and myself being here, but you are not telepathic."

 "I dunno, Prof, I just woke up 'n' knew somethin' was wrong with my girl. C'mon, Alma, wake up. Take it easy, darlin', I'm here. Relax. C'mon, relax. It's just a dream."

 "Perhaps if I …"

 "No, Charles." Jean's voice was stern. "You promised you would stay out of her mind, and I will stop you if I must."

 "What's wrong?" Scott's sleepy voice came from the doorway. "I can feel you're upset, Jean."

 "It's Alma who's upset, a very nasty nightmare."

 "After that horror story she told, I can't say I'm surprised. I had some bad dreams myself."

 "You may have caught the echoes from my mind. I'm sorry I woke you, darling."

 Gambit's tousled head poked out of his bedroom doorway. "D'y' hafta wake all of us? Why not let Wolverine take care o' her? I bet he like dat, an' th' rest of us c'n go back t'bed."

 "Sensible suggestion," Scott yawned.

 "Fer once I agree with you, Cyc'," Wolverine growled as he stood up with Alma in his arms. "Don't let the door hit ya on yer way out, Chuck."

 Xavier bit back a sharp retort and said evenly, "Certainly, Wolverine. After all, I prefer my lungs to remain where they are."

 After bolting the door, Logan grabbed the box of tissues from Alma's nightstand before sitting in her easy chair, settling her in his lap and wrapping his arms around her. Words were obviously useless; he simply held her, comforting her with arms and body until she was finally able to stop shaking.

 It was a long time before sanity and coherence returned to Alma's terror-fogged mind, before the tiny, pitiful whimpers died away. She clung to Logan, finding comfort and security in his strength and closeness and the steady beat of his heart. Finally she sighed, nestled closer, and sniffled. He loosed one arm and held a tissue to her nose. "Blow," he ordered with a hint of chuckle. She obeyed, and was rewarded with a long, tender kiss. "The Cruel One, right?" he asked at last. She shivered and nodded, unwilling to let go to sign a reply. "Cages, too, I'll bet." Again she nodded, trembling. "An' belts 'n' cigarettes." Another shivering nod. "Good thing I quit smokin' a good while back."

 Intrigued, Alma shifted, freeing her hands. *You smoke before?*

 "Yup. Drank quite a bit, too, but I cleaned up my act when I joined the X-Men. Oh, I still enjoy a beer every now 'n' then, but no more o' the hard stuff."

 *It good you stop. I hate smell tobacco smoke and alcohol, it -- it make me remember …* She jammed her face into the hollow of his shoulder and shuddered violently.

 "Easy, querida, it's over. Try t'put it behind you."

 *I -- I not-can do …*

 "Mebbe this will help," he said softly, and kissed her again, gently but thoroughly.

 Afterward, she sighed contentedly. *Thank you, darling. It help so-very much, feel all good and safe when you hold me. Logan dear, it okay I ask you …?*

 "You wanna know 'bout my claws, right?"

 *Nobody tell me, all say it your story.*

 He sighed. "None of 'em know the whole thing anyway. It's a long story, an' it ain't a nice one … well, neither was yers, an' since you told me, I guess I c'n tell you …"

 He told her all of it, or all he could remember: the kidnapping, the lab, the torture of body, mind and soul, the horror of being used and conditioned like an animal, all the details he had never told anyone else. Alma wept throughout the telling, not just for what Logan had suffered but for the obvious pain it caused him to talk about it. "I'll never forgive them," he ended. "Never. Even if I could ferget, I'd still have these t'remind me of what they did ta me." He extended his claws, watching them gleam in the moonlight.

 *I understand, Logan.* She displayed the marks on the back of her hand. *Scars on mind and heart and body never let me forget Cruel One. All not-mutants like that?*

 "Heck, no. Doc O'Dell ain't a mutant, an' you owe yer hand ta her skill even more'n you do ta my blood. There's good 'n' bad normal humans just like there's good 'n' bad mutants. That's part o' the reason Prof started the X-Men."

 They sat quietly together for some time before Alma asked, *Logan, you teach me fight? Please?*

 "Why, querida? Learnin' t'fight means gettin' hit."

 *I be hit before. Maybe if I know how hit back I not afraid so much.*

 He nodded. "Guess I c'n understand that. Could even keep ya from gettin' hit in the first place. You should learn gymnastics too, an' ya need t'start workin' out with the rest o' the gang. Plus ya gotta work on this shapin' power o' yers, find out exactly what ya can 'n' can't do. It's a lotta hard work, but it's all part o' bein' an X-Man."

 *It okay I still work out with you?*

 He hugged her. "As long as ya remember that workouts are fer workin', not cuddlin'."

 She returned the hug, then signed: *I remember. I love you, Logan.*

 "I love you, Alma."

 So it was that Alma began yet another phase of her new life. She spent many long afternoons in the lab with Beast and Xavier, exploring the aspects of her power. Hank found himself totally enthralled as he watched glass, plastic, stone and metal all change shape with equal ease under her deft fingers.

 "She can shape anything?" the Professor asked with some skepticism.

 "I did not say that, Professor. I said I have yet to find any inanimate solid substance which she cannot shape."

 "Would you show me, Alma?" Xavier requested. Hank set a translucent cube on a scale.

 "Plexiglas, exactly two pounds," he stated, then handed it to Alma. She took it and squeezed, molding the cube into a ball as easily as squeezing an orange, then handed it back to Beast. "She does not melt it, for there is no discernible rise in temperature," he said as he set the ball on the scale again. "It still weighs precisely two pounds. Spectral analysis of other objects which she has shaped shows that glass remains glass, steel remains steel, and granite is still granite. Mass and atomic or chemical structure remain unchanged; only the object's physical form is altered. And thus far, the alteration has been permanent."

 "Intriguing," Xavier murmured. "What limitations have you discovered so far, Alma?"

 *Shape happen only when head say 'now', except if I get mad,* she signed with a blush. *But must touch what I shape. Even if hand this close, it not work.*

 "Experiments with mice and potted plants show that she cannot shape living tissue, either," Beast added, then chuckled. "A fact for which I am certain Wolverine is quite grateful."

 Alma stuck out her tongue at him and grinned -- she had finally recovered enough to understand friendly teasing -- then signed: *But I can shape things alive one time but not now, like wood or cloth. I tire fast, but I get more strong more I do.*

 "That's consistent with other mutant powers involving the mind," Xavier commented. "Exercise strengthens the mind just as it does the body. Hmm … have you tried fusing two objects made of the same material? Like those two nails, for instance."

 *No! Not think of that! You want me try now?*

 "Are you tired?"

 *Little. Also lights hurt my eyes.*

 "Will you dim the lights, please, Beast? I have a suspicion I'd like Alma to confirm."

 When it was dark, Alma removed her glasses, rubbing her eyes with a sigh of relief before picking up the nails Xavier had indicated. She held them so their points touched, then placed thumb and forefinger over the spot. In the darkness, the glow around her hand was far more visible as she concentrated. When she lifted her fingers, she was holding a single straight piece of metal with nail heads on either end.

 "Put your glasses back on, my dear," Hank requested. "I must bring the lights up to get a good look at this." After she complied, he studied the joined nails closely, then gave them to Xavier. "I need to analyze this, but I find no trace of a seam such as that created by welding. The implications are staggering."

 "They certainly are," Xavier agreed. "She'd be the envy of any sculptor, and can you imagine the havoc she could wreak on a cyborg or a robot?"

 *Sorry, Professor, but I not understand word you use.*

 "Which one? Cyborg?"

 *Yes.*

 Xavier explained briefly, then asked, "Alma, did you find it easier to use your power in the dark?"

 *Yes, much more easy. How you know?*

 "Simple," he replied. "Light is painful for you. Pain is a distraction and makes it more difficult for you to concentrate or focus your power."

 "Perhaps we should keep the lights dimmed in here whenever Alma is working," Beast suggested.

 Alma thought that over, then shook her head. *Very kind you say, Hank, and I thank, but must learn use my power all kind of ways. If you make dark all time, maybe make me lazy or not as strong.*

 Xavier beamed in approval. "Excellent, Alma. I can't tell you how pleased I am with your attitude. Your willingness to experiment under adverse conditions shows great promise and potential. You have a remarkably mature outlook for one so young."

 Alma's face fell. *Maybe because I not let be child. I still not understand word 'play'.*

 "We've all been through difficult and painful experiences," the Professor said gently. "That's part of the glue that holds this team together. Now, you've put in a good day's work; put on that lovely smile of yours for Wolverine and go get some dinner."

 In contrast to her steady progress in the lab, her intensified sessions in the gym were far more difficult. Learning to fall came first, and caused some bumps and bruises as well as a few disagreements.

 *I fall better if you warn me, Logan,* she complained as he helped her up.

 "The bozos you'll be fightin' won't warn ya, Alma. Ya gotta learn t'expect the unexpected."

 *Not think of that.*

 "Didn't think ya had. Ready t'quit?"

 *No!* Her gesture was emphatic.

 "That's the spirit, darlin'. Now try that tuck-'n'-roll again. Ready? One, two, three …"

 Keenly aware that he was dealing with an abuse victim, Wolverine would not allow Alma to work out with the other X-Men until he was fully satisfied that she could tolerate rough handling both physically and emotionally. It took several weeks of very hard work, but finally one day he caught her by surprise and threw her without any warning. Not only did she take the fall with ease, she also bounced to her feet with fists at the ready, eyes blazing behind her glasses.

 "Congratulations!" he complimented her with more than a hint of pride in his voice. "Ya just graduated from first grade ta second."

 She relaxed with a sheepish grin. *Next time you do that I want throw you.*

 "Not fer a couple days, querida; tomorrow you 'n' me are goin' out t'have some fun."

 Her face lit up. *I tell Hank when see him in lab later today.*

 Alma woke the next day full of anticipation, which became alarm when she saw the time. [How did I oversleep?] she wondered as she sprang out of bed. [Especially today!] She stretched and did a set of tai-chi to get the kinks out, then showered and dressed quickly, expecting Logan's knock at any moment. But no knock had come by the time she finished her face and hair, and she finally noticed that the mansion was strangely quiet for that hour. [Something's not right about this. Maybe he's still asleep, and I'll get to tease him for once. I'll get a cup of tea, then find out what's going on.] As she opened her door, a piece of paper fell to the floor; Alma picked it up to find it was a note addressed to her. Unfolding it, she read:

Querida,

 I'm sorry to break our date, but something came up during the night and Prof is sending me and some of the others to check it out. We may be gone for three or four days. I promise I'll make it up to you when we get back. Don't skip your workouts while I'm away. Te amo, mi Alma.

         XOXOX,

         Logan.

 Paralyzed with shock and disappointment, her stomach turned into a lump of ice, Alma had to read the note three times before its message finally sank in. [He's gone! Logan is gone!] Her chin quivered, then she slowly turned and went back into her room. Kicking off her shoes, she flung herself on her bed and cried into her pillow in abject misery until there were no tears left. She lay unmoving and unfeeling for what seemed hours before several knocks on her door finally penetrated the numbness in her soul.

 "Alma, may I please come in?" Jean's voice called. Alma raised her head and reluctantly whistled #Come in#. Jean sat on the edge of Alma's bed and patted her shoulder. "I know how you feel, dear."

  Alma felt a spark of fury flare within her, and she quickly rolled over and sat up. *No, you not know. You not,* she gestured angrily. *You not love him same way I love him.*

 "No," Jean agreed. "But I do love Scott the same way you love Logan. So yes, I do know." The sadness in Jean's voice cut through the fog of grief in Alma's mind, and she began to think again.

 *Scott go too?*

 "Everyone except Hank, Jubilee, you and me."

 *Professor go too?*

 "Yes. You were busy getting well, or too absorbed in your studies to notice, but there have been other times when people were away on missions. You've been lucky that Logan hasn't had to be away more often. This is one of the hardest parts of being an X-Man: saying goodbye to friends." Her face was bleak, and something about her tone caught Alma's attention.

 *You say there be something even more hard?*

 Jean sighed. "Sometimes friends don't come back." Alma's heart froze. "Yes, dear. It's happened more than once. You never get used to it, but it's something you must learn to accept." Chins quivered, eyes filled with tears, then the two lonely women held each other, mingling their tears in shared sorrow.

 *Jean, I feel so empty,* Alma signed when their grief had eased somewhat. *It feel like he take piece my heart away with him.*

 "I know exactly what you mean, Alma. Logan and Scott don't like leaving us, either."

 Alma heaved a sigh. *I be selfish, yes? Not think about how he feel.*

 "It's okay as long as you don't overdo it. Moping won't bring him back any faster, and it eventually makes everyone else miserable as well. This is all part of growing up, Alma dear, and being in love, and being people. Now how about washing your face and joining me in the kitchen for a cup of tea?"

 *I need change into sweats first. Logan want me work out while he away, and I need something make me not think how much I miss him.*

 "Yes, he left a note asking me to start teaching you some basic tumbling and gymnastics, and I'm ready to start as soon as you are."

 Alma's face brightened. *Sound like fun. Maybe I surprise him when he come back.*

 "You'll find the time will go faster if you keep busy, Alma." Jean gave her an encouraging hug. "I'll go start the kettle while you change. Earl Grey or lemon spice?"

 Alma found it hard not to mope during Logan's absence, so Jean kept her busy in the gym. Jubilee joined the lessons to keep her own boredom at bay, and the friendly rivalry and company spurred Alma to greater efforts. Though she could never rival Beast's superhuman agility, Alma soon learned to do stunning feats with her small but lithe body. She had superb balance, no fear of heights, and could stand on her head or hands with equal ease. Handsprings, somersaults, back flips and walkovers were soon mastered as well.

 "You are quite an acrobat," Jean told her at the close of the third day's session. "Maybe we should enter you in the Mutant Olympics!"

 *I never be as good as Hank,* Alma replied.

 "Do not let that stop you from trying," Beast commented from the doorway. "Might I have the pleasure of joining you ladies tomorrow?"

 "That'd be way cool!" Jubilee exclaimed. "Does this mean we c'n come t'the lab 'n' watch Alma work this afternoon?"

 "Do you object to an audience, my dear?"

 *No. Maybe Jean and Jubilee can think new way I use my power.*

 "Then I have no objection either. Indeed, the company of three lovely ladies will be a rare treat."

 "Flatterer," Jean chuckled. "Just for that, you get to fix lunch."

 "'A loaf of bread, a jug of wine, and thou'," Beast quoted as the four headed to the kitchen.

 After eating, they all pitched in to clean up and do the dishes. Jubilee was drying a glass when it slipped in her wet hand, struck the edge of the sink and shattered. "Oops," she winced, blushing furiously.

 "Are you injured?" Beast asked in some alarm.

 "Nah, I'm fine, but this glass is a total loss."

 *No it not,* Alma told her. *You want see me use my power, you watch.* Working carefully with the broken glass to avoid cutting herself, she fitted the pieces back together one by one, sealing the edges with a touch of a fingertip. When she was finished, there was no evidence of the glass having been broken; not a seam or chip marred its smooth surface.

 "Woah!" Jubilee gasped. "That is totally awesome! Maybe you c'n fix the stuff I blow up!"

 *Not all,* Alma signed with a grin. *I can put together things not normal go together.* She rummaged through a drawer and extracted two wooden stirring spoons. Crossing their handles, she grasped the junction and concentrated. When she let go, the two spoons had flowed into a single large X.

 "Even the grain is aligned," Jean said in awe. "It's like they grew that way!"

 *Now watch this!* Alma pinched the junction between thumb and forefinger and divided the X in half, creating two spoons with their handles bent at 90-degree angles. Hank caught his breath.

 "Alma, you have grafted the handle of one to the shank of the other! Incredible!"

 *I do change, yes? I make them right before next cook get mad.* She closed her fist around the handle of one spoon and slid her hand along the shaft, leaving it straight as a die.

 "Wait a moment before you do the other one," Jean interjected. "You have to touch something in order to shape it, right? Do you have to touch the exact spot you're shaping?"

 Alma's eyes went wide. *I never think try that! Hank, please you turn lights down? Not sure this work.* Once the room was dark, she held the bowl of the spoon lightly between her palms. Her first try produced no result other than the usual glow around her hands. She paused, took a deep breath, then clenched her teeth and summoned every ounce of mental force she could muster. Her friends watched in silence as the glow began to rise slowly -- very slowly -- up the spoon's handle. It seemed an eternity before the glow reached the right-angled bend. Jubilee bit her lip, crossing her fingers for luck.

 And the handle began to straighten itself.

 White-faced, perspiring, straining until her temples throbbed, Alma felt her power gradually force the wood to unbend, a fraction at a time. Dizzied by her efforts, she nearly fainted before giving up, the spoon slipping from her hands and falling to the floor with a clatter. Alma swayed in her chair and nearly fell herself until Beast caught her shoulders. "Alma! That's enough!" he commanded. "Jubilee, would you get her a glass of water?" Alma sipped it as the color slowly crept back into her cheeks, and finally her shaking hands signed: *I do?*

 Jean held up the spoon with a smile. The 90-degree bend had changed to a 135-degree angle.

 Beast's participation made the next day's gymnastic lesson an exciting one. Group acrobatics, though harder than singles, are more rewarding when done successfully -- and are much more fun. The four barely noticed the hours pass as they flipped and rolled and spun. It was nearing lunchtime as Hank stood, legs braced and rock-steady, with his right arm stretched overhead. His flattened palm was big enough to hold both of Alma's small hands with room to spare. She was holding a handstand on it, her body arrow-straight, feet together and toes pointed.

 "Ready, my dear?" he asked, flexing his elbow a fraction. She pressed a fingertip against his hand to signal "yes". "One -- two -- three!" he counted, and thrust upward. Alma flipped in a neat half-turn, straightening her legs at just the right moment for her feet to land on his palm. "And now!" He thrust again, and she tucked her knees, rotated in a full somersault, and landed lightly on the floor in a perfect dismount.

 A burst of applause from the gym's doorway made all four start. They turned to see a group of costumed X-Men, smiling and clapping enthusiastically. "Scott!" Jean cried in delight, and ran straight into Cyclops' outstretched arms. Jubilee squealed happily, squeezing Gambit so tightly that he winced. Hank caught up Rogue and Storm, one in each arm, whirling them in a joyous living merry-go-round.

 Alma stood staring, her feet rooted to the floor. She had never seen Wolverine in costume before, and for a moment she didn't recognize him, until he pulled off his cowl-mask and said, "Peek-a-boo, kiddo." The next moment her arms were around his neck in a stranglehold, his ferocious hug nearly cracked her ribs, and they were kissing with an almost furious intensity.

 "Don't I get a welcome-home hug as well?" Professor Xavier's dry chuckle broke in on the celebration. Alma and Logan were too absorbed in each other to hear him, but Jubilee gave him a hearty hug, and Jean kissed his cheek in greeting.

 "How'd it go?" Jubilee asked.

 "Piece o' cake, p'tite," Gambit replied with a grin.

 "Speakin' o' cake, we-all could use a bite ta eat," Rogue hinted.

 "Then permit us to prepare a feast of welcome whilst you refresh yourselves," Beast offered.

 "You've got yourself a deal," Cyclops laughed.

 Showered and changed, the returned team feasted while regaling their friends with a report on the mission. During a break in the conversation, Wolverine declared, "Beast, if you got plans fer Alma in the lab this afternoon, you better forget 'em. I hadda break a date with her t'go on this shindig, an' I promised I'd make it up ta her."

 "A promise is a promise, Wolverine," Beast replied with an indulgent smile. "Far be it from me to keep you from your tryst."

 Xavier added, "Far be it from me as well. Just make sure you get her home at a reasonable hour."

 Jean burst out laughing. "Good heavens, Professor, you sound like my father when I started dating. We'll clean up, Alma. You go change into something nice, Logan doesn't like to be kept waiting."

 Alma raced to her room with a song in her heart.

 Summer moved into fall in a blur of activity as Alma continued her training. Beast monitored her carefully whenever "that time of the month" approached, but to everyone's relief (especially Alma's) each occurrence was a little less painful and traumatic, and she required less time in bed in order to recover.

 Now that Alma and her friends had mastered the basics of sign language, they began working on the subtler nuances and fine points. Her vocabulary increased and her grammar and syntax improved, until she could express herself in sign almost as clearly as the X-Men could in English (at least some of them …)

For variety, her sessions in the lab now alternated with instruction in operating computers and other equipment, while her gymnastic practices were interspersed with combat training. Wolverine's previous instruction in tai-chi helped her learn the basics of judo and aikido without much trouble, but karate and boxing proved much more difficult, not for Alma but for Logan. He found it nearly impossible to strike at her, even in training, until the day she landed a roundhouse punch that made him see stars.

 "Woo hoo hoo! That was a goody! Ya managed t'impress me, querida!"

 *It's hard for me to hit you -- to try to hurt you …*

 "I'm havin' a tough time hittin' you, too, even though I'm pullin' my punches. If there's one thing I despise, it's guys that beat up on their girlfriends."

 *You're not beating me. You're teaching me. There's a difference.* The simple statement was telling evidence of how much Alma had recovered.

 "Glad ya understand that difference, darlin', but I still …"

 *Logan dear, I know you don't want to hurt me, and you try very hard not to hurt me, and I love you for it, but I need learn. There's a saying, 'don't dish it out if you can't take it', yes? If I not-freak when you hit me, I not-freak when anyone hit me.*

 "Querida, I know yer right up here --" Wolverine tapped his forehead "-- but it don't feel right here." He touched his chest.

 *If it bothers you so much, maybe I ask other X-Man to teach me.*

 He shook his head. "It'll work out, Alma, don't worry 'bout me."

 *I do worry about you, dear, but if you say it's okay …* She sighed. *So much to learn and do, calculus and computers and acrobatics and sign language and shaping things. Sometimes I'm not sure I can do it all. You really think I can learn to be good fighter?*

 "Sure, darlin'. They've proved in labs that gals got better reflexes than guys, an' yers are better than most. You're real quick 'n' light on yer feet, an' ya ain't scared o' gettin' hurt. Bein' little c'n be an advantage, too. People tend t'underestimate you."

 Alma received graphic proof of Logan's statement a few days later. Gambit arrived in the gym for a workout of his own while Alma and Wolverine were having a sparring session. He stood watching until they were finished, then asked, "Why waste yo' time, mon ami? Lil' t'ing like dat never be any good in a fight. You jus' humorin' her."

 Wolverine glowered. "Don't sell her short, Gumbo, she packs a helluva wallop."

 Gambit looked scornful. "You jus' say dat 'cause she yo' girl."

 "Wanna bet?"

 "Bet."

 "Ten bucks?"

 "Done." Gambit swaggered confidently over to Alma, bent over, stuck out his chin, and tapped it. "C'mon, p'tite. Show Gambit how hard y' c'n hit."

 The next thing he knew, Gambit was flat on his back, stars swirled before his eyes, and there was a persistent ringing in his ears. His jaw ached abominably, and he quickly discovered that it was a mistake to try to shake his head. "Qu'est-que …" When his vision finally cleared, the first thing he saw was Alma standing over him, blowing on her knuckles and looking indecently pleased with herself. He propped himself up with one elbow and groaned, holding his head and muttering unprintably in French.

 Wolverine's voice dripped sarcasm. "I think ya owe me a ten-spot, Cajun."

 Gambit sighed heavily. "You right, mon ami. Owe sum't'in' else too." He got cautiously to his hands and knees, then sat on his heels before Alma and humbly bowed his head. "I 'pologize, ma'm'selle. Gambit be proud t'have you next t' him in a fight. If you permit, I teach you bo-stick."

 *I am honored,* Alma replied with equal formality.

 Gambit staggered to his feet and bowed unsteadily, nearly falling over again, then headed for the gymnasium door. "Where ya goin'?" Wolverine called after him.

 "T'get a ten-spot -- an' an ice bag."

 As soon as Gambit closed the door, Wolverine caught up Alma in a rowdy bear hug. "Darlin', I'm so proud o' you I could bust!" he crowed, kissing her heartily. "I been waitin' ages fer someone t'take that cocky son-of-a-gun down a peg or two! Tell ya what, querida, you go shower 'n' put on yer best party dress, 'cause I'm takin' ya out fer steak 'n' lobster, an' th' Cajun's payin' fer dessert!"

 Logan agreed to bo-stick lessons with only minor misgivings; it would do Alma good to learn martial arts from others. He felt even better about it after Gambit reassured him that he held no grudge: "I deserve dat punch," he freely admitted. To prove his magnanimity, Gambit also taught her a nasty array of nerve pinches, arm locks and other dirty tricks not requiring size or brute strength to apply.

 "Y' gotta touch sum't'in' t'shape it, non?" he pointed out. "Dis sorta t'ing make it safer 'n' easier f' y' t'get close enough." Despite the difference in their sizes, Gambit found Alma a worthy adversary, for what she lacked in inches she more than made up for in speed and aggressiveness. "Bein' so little mean y' move quiet, cher'," he told her. "Y' c'n sneak up 'n' get someone 'fore he know y' dere."

 *Logan says he almost not-can hear me walk when I try to move quiet.*

 "Dat big compliment comin' from him. Y' hide good too, don't need much cover. An' dat shapin' power y' got mean y' always got a weapon. Make bo-stick outta ol' board, or turn chain int' crowbar."

 *It need be very dark for me to do something that fancy.*

 Gambit grinned wickedly. "Y' move quiet like shadow, y' hide in shadow, y' power stronger in shadow. Mebbe we should call you Shadow, non?"

 The code name stuck. Before the week was out, Alma found herself answering to "Shadow" as often and as easily as she did to "Alma." She found she didn't mind, since most of the other X-Men had code names, and having one herself made her feel more like one of the team.

 But it takes more than a code name and mutant powers and gymnastic skill and fighting ability to make an X-Man, and Alma knew it.