[A/N:] The setting for this is between the first and second movies, only Wolverine hasn't left to go to Alkali Lake. I hope that makes any sense... :)

"The sin of pride may be a small or a great thing in someone's life, and hurt vanity a passing pinprick, or a self-destroying or ever murderous obsession." -Iris Murdoch

1. Reluctant Change

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” The words left my mouth with a bitter taste, and I looked at my mother out of the corner of my eyes. She was tearing up again, causing guilt to flicker up inside of me. Damn it. She always knew how to get to me, just like how I always knew how to manipulate her.

“Sheila, you know I don’t want to. But…” She bit her lip, turning away from me and keeping her eyes focused on the road once more. It was nearly a three-hour drive from Albany to Westchester, and I was no more pleased about it than she.

“But what?” I asked sourly, staring at her directly. I knew it bothered her, so I did it anyways. I knew she hated looking me in the eyes; she was vulnerable if she did that, and she knew it.

She did anyways. We were nearly stopped to begin with; the traffic was practically in gridlock on the freeway, much to my annoyance. Still, if it delayed me getting to where I didn’t even want to go, it was fine with me. She looked over at me, focusing directly above my eyes. Sneaky. I didn’t even really know why I had asked the question. I already knew what she was going to say.

People were scared of me. I understood that, and honestly, I didn’t blame them. I scared myself sometimes. After all, it wasn’t easy, having power and almost complete control over people. Needless to say, I could ruin people’s lives if I wanted to, and it was no wonder they feared me.

I was a mutant, more commonly referred to as a freak, especially by my classmates—or should I say, former classmates? Against my will, my mother had withdrawn me from my old school, the Albany Academies, and had enrolled me in the school that was pretty much all over the news: Xavier’s School For Gifted Youngsters, down in Westchester. Obviously, I was opposed to her decision.

I didn’t need to go to some stupid school for “gifted” kids! I wasn’t gifted; I was dangerous. And that’s why she was shucking me off, getting rid of me while she still could, because people were complaining about me. It wasn’t like I did things on purpose… they just happened…

I had what Professor Xavier had told my mom were “a rare, and extraordinary gift”. Yeah, the hefty check my mom had sent off probably convinced him to say that. But basically, I was capable of shape shifting, a power I had discovered at the tender age of five. However, it had its limitations, which I had learned as I grew older—I could only take the shape of females, and I could only do so if I had touched them first.

The reason for said limitations? I’m a genetic mutation in itself. I was a twin, which I only discovered seven years prior, no thanks to my mom’s expert ability at leaving out crucial information. When my dad took off, she had to explain, and it certainly wasn’t easy to hear.

When she had been pregnant with me, I was a twin. She had been carrying two girls, much to her delight. She’d always wanted lots of girls. However, before anything could really be done, I absorbed my twin. Yes, it’s almost as disgusting as it sounds. When I was born, the doctors explained everything. I was known as a “genetic chimera”, meaning I had two sets of DNA—one that was mine, and one that belonged to my fraternal twin. Technically, I could be two different people. I could commit murder and get away with it… you know, if I really wanted to.

My mother never told my father, however, and it still eludes me how she could’ve kept that big of a secret from him for ten years. One day, it occurred to him, though, how much we don’t look alike. He confessed his fears to my mother, and demanded a DNA test. She agreed, and after the results were in, spilled everything.

Genetically, it appears as though I’m not related to my father. At all. We have nothing in common, when it comes to blood. It seems as though I am only related to my mother. However, when tissue samples were taken (not a fun process, by the way), it appeared as though I was my father’s child.

Was and wasn’t. His, and not, yet my mother had never had an affair. This freaked him. He took off, leaving my mom to raise me and my younger brother, who was still a wee thing at the time.

From then, everything pretty much just sucked. Because while I caused havoc and mayhem with my shape shifting ability, I discovered my genetic position had allowed me another power that could be used to do drastically horrible things.

One of the definitions for chimera that don’t consist of mythological beasts is “A fanciful mental illusion or fabrication”. That, in a nicely constructed sentence, was what I was capable of doing. With simply the power of my imagination, I could trap people within their very dreams—or nightmares, if I so desired. Mostly, I could do it using mine.

Which is why I was being sent away, going back to my original point. When I daydreamed in class… let’s just say my classmates got a taste of what I was thinking, without me even realizing it. And I had put several of them in danger, more than once. So it was either I find a different school, or I get rid of the ability. Since I genetically couldn’t get rid of the ability (which is what any moderately intelligent person could see), my mother had to find a different school for me. The head of my old school suggested Xavier’s.

And so, here I was. Caught in the tail end of a drive to a place I was being forced to attend, with a mother who was just as scared of me as my classmates were. Things were definitely a suck fest.

“But we have to find a place that’s right for you,” She said softly and slowly, like she was explaining things to a small-minded child. “We have to find a place where you don’t have to worry about what other people think.”

“As if I already do,” I grumbled, running a hand through my choppy blonde locks. It was nearly a white-blonde, and in the light, hurt even my eyes. I shoved it away from my face, focusing instead on the scenery flying by outside the window.

To break the silence, my mother flicked on the radio, finally settling on a station that had minimal static. It was playing what I discerned as oldies, but I couldn’t exactly tell who it was. Luckily, I didn’t care.

The sound of the wind rushing by the car and the crooning over the radio eventually lulled me into sleep. Fortunately for both my mother and I, I dreamed of nothing at all.

“Sheila? Honey, we’re here.” I felt her gentle nudging at my shoulder, and I opened my eyes the tiniest fraction. Half of my face was smushed against the window, and a trail of drool had dripped from my mouth onto the armrest of the door. Disgusted, I wiped my face and the armrest with my sleeve, wincing as I sat up and felt the crick in my neck.

We were parked in front of what appeared to be a sprawling mansion, although ‘castle’ would’ve been a more appropriate word. The drive was gravel, and it crunched under my feet as I stepped out of the car. There were beautiful flowers that bordered the front walk, with hedges and what I thought was a fountain but I couldn’t tell. Trees surrounded the place, mostly shading it from the sun, and bathing it in a cool glow. The air smelled fresh and earthy, and I was tempted to break into song. But I remembered why I was there, and my mood darkened considerably.

“Do you want me to walk you in?” My mom asked, also stepping out of the car.

“No.”

She bit her lip. “I really should. I want to meet your headmaster.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Pop the trunk.”

She leaned back in, doing as I commanded. I went around to the back of the car and pulled my luggage from within—a measly suitcase and duffel bag—and dumping it on the ground. She came around, shutting the trunk and automatically locking it with her key ring. She reached for my suitcase, but I beat her to it, slinging the duffel bag across my shoulders.

“I got it,” I said, refusing to look at her.

“Okay,” She said in an indecipherable tone. “Shall we head inside?”

“Sure. Whatever. I don’t care.” Personally, I was content just to stay outside, letting the fragrant breeze wash over me, tempting me to spend the afternoon daydreaming. But due to my hazardous nature, that was impossible. So I followed my mother dutifully, as she walked across the courtyard towards the large, fortified front doors. I swallowed almost nervously as we passed inside, to the dimly lit atrium.

I looked around, hiding my awe. The place was larger than I could see from outside. The walls were a dark wood, the floors extravagant, and the entire air inside was very esteemed. I held my breath, watching as several people walked past and stared at my mother and I before disappearing into an elevator at the end of the room.

I felt the first hints of fear, before a separate elevator opened. I watched as a man in a wheelchair rolled out, stopping in front of us. He smiled kindly at me.

“I’m Professor Charles Xavier, fondly referred to by the student body and some of the staff as Professor X. Welcome to my school for the gifted. I take it you are Shelia McKenzie?”

“What if I wasn’t?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. My mother immediately started smiling apologetically; she did that a lot when I opened my mouth.

His blue eyes twinkled. “Well then I’d have to accuse you of stealing her luggage.” He gestured to my suitcase, which had my name embroidered on the side. Damn. I flushed.

He just chuckled. “Its very nice to meet you. If you’d kindly follow me, we can talk in my office, before showing you to your room.” I just nodded, swallowing hard as he made an expert turn and began leading the way back to the elevator. Saying nothing, my mother and I followed.

Ten minutes later, I was seated in one of the hard-backed chairs in front of his desk, my mother beside me. Someone had come and taken my luggage to my room, wherever that was, and currently Professor X and my mom were discussing my education.

“We do have vacations during the summer and at Christmas, during which the children can leave and stay with their families if they’d like. We make it optional, of course, for the children who, ah, have more delicate situations with their parents and the nature of their enrollment here.” Professor X steepled his fingers, nodding his head at me. “Here, Sheila will be taken care of, and her specific needs will be met, unlike at any other school. Here, she doesn’t have to hide. I think you,” He smiled at me, “are going to enjoy it here.”

“Are the dorms co-ed?” My mom asked curiously, and Professor X opened his mouth to reply. However, a quick knock on the doors interrupted him, and they swung open. Several people trailed inside, two of them arguing rather loudly. I turned, surveying them with interest.

The first was a woman with dusky brown skin with white hair. And I thought mine was bright, I mused to myself, as she rolled her eyes at the arguing pair. The second was a striking woman with vivid red hair pulled back in a polite bun, thin glasses on her delicate nose. The two who were engaged in the less-than-polite discussion were two men, which didn’t surprise me in the least. The first thing I noticed (of course it’s the first thing I noticed, I’m a girl) was how attractive they were. I brushed that away immediately, focusing instead on the stranger aspects of their appearance. One was not much taller than me, with wavy brown hair and arresting cheekbones. He was wearing a strange pair of what looked like wraparound sunglasses, the lens’ a deep scarlet. The other was slightly taller, with dark hair in a strange retro style, sideburns darkening the sides of his rugged face. He was muscled, and had the stance of a man not to be trifled with.

“Listen, Logan, I really don’t care that you took it—I don’t!—It’s just the lack of permission. I mean, really, you—” The brown-haired man was saying, trying to be civil.

So, the rugged one was Logan. He rolled his eyes, firing back. “Sure you don’t care. Which is why you’re making a huge deal about it. If you don’t care so much, then why didn’t you just say ‘hey, thanks for bringing it back with a full tank?’ which I did, out of the good—”

“No, that’s beyond the point. I’m glad you did, yes, thank you, and you’re welcome to use it but I would really appreciate it if you would just ask—”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you would appreciate—”

“Gentlemen, if you please,” Professor X said, his voice holding a hint of thunder.

The two of them fell silent, and I watched as the red-haired woman rubbed her temple with a grimace. The one with the white hair just looked annoyed. It was then that they all seemed to notice me, and they all shifted into straighter postures and better attitudes.

“Everyone, this is Sheila McKenzie, our newest addition. Sheila, these are four of our teachers—though they don’t always act like it…” He muttered good-naturedly. “You will no doubt encounter them once you receive your schedule. Here, we have Dr. Jean Grey and Professor Ororo Munroe. Professor Grey is a telekinesis mentor for those of our students who have that ability. Professor Munroe teaches our history classes.” He gestured to the two men. “Professor Logan mostly teaches self-defense and survival, though he has been known to surface some art classes.” Professor X smiled as Logan rolled his eyes. “And Professor Scott Summers teaches elective leadership, and has some tactics classes.”

They were all staring, smiling, trying to be welcoming. My head was spinning almost unpleasantly; this was so much to take in. I managed a weak smile, as it hit me: this was my home for the next seven months.

Welcome to Xavier's School.