She could hear the hounds; they were getting closer. That horrible baying sound made her want to cover her ears as she ran. No matter how many times she had circled and crossed the water, they still followed her.
Panting now, Kit splashed through another stream, the water cold on her bare skin as she stumbled on the slick rocks. She managed to stay on her feet and fought the urge to look back over her shoulder as she pushed through the black woods.
The pursuit was so close now she could hear the rider. Shouts of "mutant" and "freak" reached her over the sound of the thudding hooves of the horse and she swallowed the sob threatening to burst from her throat. Her legs trembled, fatigue setting in. She tripped over a tree root, hitting the ground hard on hands and knees before tiredly pushing herself up, running for her life. Her breath rasped loudly in her ears and she knew they could hear it as well.
She could smell them now—the pitch of the torches, the smell of horse and hound, and gunpowder. They were closer than she realized, but she had no more energy. Again she tripped, falling into a clearing, but unable to get back to her feet. She curled herself into a ball as the baying pack of foxhounds surrounded her, turning into men as the lone rider thundered into the clearing. He pulled up the horse just short of trampling her. One of the men surrounding her came and pulled her up by her hair, forcing her to look up at the rider.
"You always were a disappointment," he stated in disgust, his face hidden in the shadows cast by the flickering torches the men now held. The voice seemed familiar, yet she couldn't place it. "A freak of nature that was of absolutely no use to anyone."
"I didn't ask to be what I am," she argued, biting back a cry as her hair was jerked again, silently telling her to show respect. There was another scent, one of burned flesh, which crept into her nose. Her night vision was no use, Kit suddenly realized. She could not make out the face of the rider, but she could suddenly see those of the men who had hunted her as hounds. Her heart was pounding in her throat as she recognized the boy who had raped her, as well as many of the men she had tracked for the police, including the two child molesters she had happily killed.
"You were a failure from conception," the rider told her. "Did you really think anyone would ever love a creature such as you?" She caught the gleam of a pistol being leveled at her heart. "Even your own mother couldn't love you, you little beast."
"That's not true! Leave my mother out of this!" she shouted. "You didn't know her!"
"Oh, didn't I?" He leaned into the light, his face nothing but a blacked, grotesquely grinning skull as he cocked the pistol. "Don't you recognize me, Daughter?" he sneered and she screamed as her father fired the pistol.
Kit awoke with a start, panting and sweating, but wrapped in Logan's strong arms. She fought to slow her heart rate back to normal and he pulled her closer.
"Same dream?" he asked sleepily, but she shook her head.
"New one," she whispered, taking comfort from his warmth as she snuggled against him.
"Tell me." She just shook her head again.
"Not yet. It's too fresh." He grunted in reply and kissed her sweaty temple lightly before sliding back into sleep.
Kit lay awake, however, afraid of falling back into that dream. Slowly, carefully, she moved away from Logan, trying not to wake him. Needing air, she quickly dressed in jeans, a shirt and sneakers and slipped out. It was just after 3 am and the house was quiet as she crept out the front door, closing it silently behind her.
With a bright moon as a guide, Kit started running. She kept it smooth and even to keep herself from remembering the frantic flight in her dream. Finding a trail into the woods, she took it, her footfalls nearly silent on the compacted dirt. She followed the trail deep into the grounds to the small lake where the creek emptied. Slowing to a walk, Kit circled the lake several times before sitting on a large, flat rock to look at the moon reflected in the smooth, dark mirror of the water. A light breeze rippled the water, distorting the reflection and cooling the perspiration on her brow.
Kit stripped away her clothes, tossing them on the rock, and dove into the water, letting it wash away the sweat and the dregs of memory from the dream. At peace again, Kit swam for a while in silence, not even caring that Logan now sat on the rock watching her as the sky started to lighten.
"I tried not to wake you," she stated as she walked out of the lake, her wet hair plastered against her body to mid-thigh.
"Ya didn't," he assured her, watching her and thinking of Venus rising out of the sea. "Woke up a little while ago, missed ya." Kit gathered her hair into a thick rope and started squeezing water out of it while he picked up her shirt and moved to dry her back and shoulders. "Feel better?"
"Yes, actually. I needed some air." She stood quietly as he dried her legs then stepped in front of her.
"Been there. Yer beautiful in the moonlight."
"It's almost daylight now," she told him with a smile. He tossed aside her damp shirt as she slid her hands under his.
"Even better." His clothes soon joined hers and her pulled her down onto the ground as the sun started to creep into the sky. Few were up at that hour to wonder about the wild cries that faintly carried back to the house, but those who saw Kit and Logan wander back to the house in the dawn light chose not to notice that he was bare-chested while she wore his shirt and carried her shoes in her hand.
After breakfast, Kit met with Xavier alone in his office.
"Thank you for meeting with me, Kit. Did you sleep well?" he inquired politely as she sat in the chair he indicated.
"Not really," she admitted, "but I feel fairly rested. I took an early morning run and a swim in the lake."
"Good, good. Now I understand something happened in the kitchen after dinner last night. What can you tell me about it?"
"Not much, professor. I just know Jubilee cut herself and I wanted to help. I don't know if it matters, but my mother was a healer in the village in Scotland where we lived. She knew about herbs and natural remedies. I always wished I could help people like she did. She seemed to have a special touch for healing."
"Yes, well, it seems you do now as well. Has this ever manifested before?" he inquired but Kit shook her head.
"I've not spent a lot of time with people at all, let alone ones who might be hurt or sick. For all I know, this might never happen again."
"Hm. Would you be willing to try an experiment?"
"Ex...periment?" Kit repeated, her throat going dry as her heart jumped into it. Xavier saw the sudden panic, saw her tense to run and knew he had chosen the wrong word. He reached out, both mentally and physically, to calm her.
"Excuse my poor choice of words. Let's just call it a test, shall we? Would you mind coming with me to visit Dr. McCoy?"
"I suppose not."
He explained on the way that they liked to keep a record of all of his students' abilities and limitations.
"Unfortunately, it may prove most difficult to chart the limitations of a healing ability without several patients of varying degrees of infirmity," Dr. McCoy stated as they joined him. "Though I am a willing volunteer in most situations, I prefer not to be thrown off a roof to prove a theory."
"Thank you," Kit said. "But how do you plan to prove anything at all? Don't forget, it may have been a one-time-only situation."
"True, true. We must endeavor, however, to—ah!"
"Hank, what is it?" Xavier exclaimed.
"Nothing. Sheer clumsiness," he replied, holding his hand as the scalpel clattered to the tabletop. "I'm afraid I keep my instruments quite sharp, much to my dismay."
Kit was at his side immediately, blotting away the blood with her own shirt and gently tracing the wound, closing it neatly and without a scar.
"Most intriguing," Hank whispered as she released his hand and stepped back. "Though I saw and felt it, it is still quite amazing." He flexed his hand, looking from it to her.
"I guess it wasn't once in a lifetime," she muttered, sinking into a chair.
"Are you quite all right, Kit?" Hank asked, concerned about her pallor and the far-away look in her eyes. She snapped back to herself, the color returning to her cheeks as she nodded. "Do you know your hands get quite hot?"
"No. I...I feel normal. I just thought about healing the cut. Were they really hot?"
"Yes, though I did not feel as though the cut was being merely cauterized, but in actuality closed from the inside out. A most remarkable experience."
"You set me up, didn't you?" Kit demanded, one eyebrow raised as she crossed her arms.
"I? Why would you believe...yes." Kit chuckled as she studied both men.
"We didn't want you to feel pressured or under a microscope," Xavier explained.
"Are there any other 'tests' you have for me?" she asked, but Xavier shook his head, reaching for her hand.
"No. I believe Rogue and Jubilee are waiting to take you to the mall. Go have fun. I've heard shopping can be very therapeutic."
With a soft, husky laugh, Kit left the lab to find Rogue.
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