Chapter Text
A young girl stood alone on a hill deep in the woods, shivering as winter tore through her thin suit. Snow spiraled in gentle strands around her, landing on her shoulders, melting instantly against overheated skin. Every part of her body ached, from cold, from shock, from the things she had seen.
And from the things she could never unsee.
Below her, the facility, her entire world, burned. Flames curled upward like hungry, reaching hands. Steel beams sagged, bending as the heat devoured them. Smoke climbed thick and suffocating into the sky, swallowing what few stars might have guided her.
Her thin latex suit clung to her skin like a second, colder layer. It had never been meant for warmth, only compliance. It offered no comfort. No protection. No softness. Nothing in that place ever had.
Ash streaked through Marigold's short black hair, dusting it in gray. Her cheeks were smeared with smoke and dust. The scrape on her knee pulsed dully, warm blood slowly soaking through the rip in her suit, but she barely felt it.
She felt nothing.
Except the hollow, sharp ache in her chest.
She was alive.
Julie wasn't.
Marigold wrapped her arms around her shaking body, fingers tucked into the spaces beneath her armpits. One of the few small tricks she'd learned for warmth. For comfort. But comfort wasn't really something she understood. Comfort had been rationed in the facility, like everything else. A reward. A privilege.
And Julie...
Julie had been both comfort and confusion.
A scientist who'd always worn gloves even when she didn't have to.
A researcher who refused to meet her eyes some days, and other days stared at her like she was the only thing in the room that mattered.
A woman who could sound hard, clinical, rehearsed, and then crumble if she thought no one saw.
Marigold squeezed her eyes shut.
The memories found her anyway.
"Marigold, take this!"
Julie shoved a black backpack into her chest so hard it knocked the air out of her. Sirens blared overhead, bathing the hall in flashing red light. Guards sprinted past with weapons drawn. Somewhere deeper in the facility, an explosion shook the walls, sending dust raining from the vents.
Marigold stumbled, gripping the bag with both hands. "What's happening, Julie?!"
Julie didn't answer at first. She grabbed Marigold's wrist, more roughly than she meant to, and pulled her down the corridor toward the stairwell. Her breath was ragged, her movements frantic.
They reached the metal door. Julie's hand trembled as she swiped her badge.
The lock clicked open.
"I've done a lot of wrong in this place," Julie said, her voice low, shaking, almost swallowed by the alarms. "But tonight is the night I fix it. The Rebels are here to take Hydra down, but not you."
She dropped to a knee, tugging the backpack straps over Marigold's shoulders. Julie's hands were cold, her movements sharp but not cruel. She handled Marigold the same way she always did, like she wasn't sure she was allowed to touch her.
"I can't erase what I've done," she whispered, fingers tightening the straps, "but I can get you out."
The building trembled again. Something collapsed far below them.
Julie grabbed her shoulders and forced Marigold to meet her eyes. Her eyes, usually guarded and unreadable, were wide with fear now. And something else. Something raw.
"I know you're scared," Julie said. "I know you've only been outside for missions or training. But when you get away, far away, open the pack. Find the people in the files I put inside."
Marigold's voice broke as she grabbed Julie's lab coat. "Why do I have to go alone?"
Julie flinched, like she wasn't expecting the touch. Marigold had never grabbed her before.
"Because I have to stay," Julie forced out. "I have to help take this place down from the inside. They can never hurt anyone like you again."
She hesitated, internal war flickering across her face, before she wrapped her arms around Marigold. The hug was clumsy. Stiff. Shockingly warm.
It lasted two seconds.
Three.
Four.
Too long for facility rules.
Long enough to mean everything.
"I have so much blood on my hands," Julie whispered, voice cracking. "But not yours. You're good. And you deserve a better life."
Another explosion rocked the hallway.
Julie shoved her through the door.
"Run! Don't look back! That is an order...your last order."
Marigold slammed into the door, pounding her fists against it.
"Julie! No!"
"That's an order!"
Orders had always been absolute.
This one felt like a knife.
Marigold ran.
Through gunfire. Through smoke. Through flames.
Two guards grabbed her ankles, dragging her across the floor. Her nails scraped against the tile. Panic clawed up her throat.
She twisted.
Kicked.
Wrenched her leg free.
A gunshot tore the air.
She threw up a shield,colorful like oil mixed with rainwater on the ground, shimmering, instinctive.
Fire erupted along the walls, swallowing the guards behind her.
She watched them burn.
Watched their eyes melt.
Watched their bodies collapse.
She could barely breathe inside the heat of her own shield.
Everything went fuzzy.
Marigold blinked. Her head swam. The cold wind slapped her across the face, reminding her she was no longer trapped inside the burning corridors.
The fire was behind her.
The cold was ahead of her.
And somewhere, in a backpack she barely remembered grabbing, was Julie's last hope.
Marigold knelt. Her knees dug into the snow as she opened the backpack with stiff, trembling fingers.
A file lay on top.
THE XAVIER INSTITUTE FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS
Julie's final act.
"I won't waste it," she whispered. Her voice shook. "I promise."
She pulled the straps back over her shoulders, turned toward the endless trees, and stepped into the woods.
– The Institute / Professor Xavier's POV –
The mansion was silent at this hour, save for the faint hum of electricity and the soft creak of old floorboards settling. Moonlight drifted through tall windows, casting silver paths across the polished wood floors. The air was cool, still, almost too still.
I rubbed sleep from my eyes as I guided my wheelchair toward my office.
Emergencies at this hour were never good news.
And only a handful of people possessed the address that had triggered the alert awakening me.
Inside the office, I switched on a lamp. Warm yellow light washed over the desk. An urgent message flashed across my computer screen. Coordinates, encrypted attachments, and a single video file.
"A strange combination..." I murmured, clicking play.
The screen flickered to life.
A woman appeared. Lab coat wrinkled, hair disheveled, eyes red with sleeplessness and fear. She looked directly into the lens as though the weight of the world pressed on her shoulders.
"Professor Xavier. My name is Julie Brown and I'm a doctor working for
HYDRA. I can't tell you who gave me this e-mail, but the person who did
said that you could help my daugh-a child experiment we are holding
here. Her experiment number is 25, but her name is Marigold. We have a
group of rebels working under SHIELD coming in to burn down our
building tonight and I'm going to help them take this organization
down...but I can't let Marigold get taken, or worse... I'm going to help her
escape during the attack, our facility would rather kill her than let any
other organization take her. Especially anyone with relation to SHIELD.
Please. follow the coordinates that I've sent in this e-mail and take
Marigold with you. She deserves a life, and tonight I'm going to make
sure she has a shot at having one."
She faltered mid-sentence. Covered her mouth. The video cut and resumed, her eyes redder.
"You help mutants live a normal life, you give them a chance to be
happy. And the people who work in this building have tried to make
Marigold a weapon, they experimented on her, tortured her, and I can't
sit back and let that happen anymore. I-"
She broke again, hand covering her mouth.
Another cut.
When the video started a third time, she looked hollow but resolute. She was talking quickly.
"I've seen the monster that I had become in the name of science through the eyes of Marigold. And I have built up a large debt of evil acts.
I can'ttake back everything I have done, but I can give Marigold a chance tolive a better life.
We've taken so much from her. Please. Give her the lifeshe deserves. Everything you need to know about her are in the files I will give her when the attack starts.
I would send them to you, but I can'trisk putting any information into a digital form where anyone with acomputer can get it.
By the time you receive this message the attack willeither be over or active, and Marigold will probably be on her own out ina world she doesn't know.
I don't know the kind of man that you are, butthe person who gave me this contact said that you care deeply formutant children and this Xavier Institute can help her.
Please, find Marigold and help her."
The screen went black.
I exhaled slowly, letting the weight of her desperation settle into my bones. This woman knew she would not survive the night. But she had done what she could to save the child in her care.
I placed two fingers to my temple.
"Logan. Ororo. Please come immediately. Suit up and meet me at the Blackbird. We leave at once."
Logan's half-asleep growl responded first.
Ororo's concern followed.
"We're going after a child," I explained. "A mutant. Alone, injured, fleeing Hydra."
I looked toward the rising sun beyond the mansion grounds.
"Hold on, Marigold," I whispered. "We're coming."
-Marigold Pov-
The forest swallowed her.
Snow blanketed the ground, soft and deceptively gentle. Her bare feet pressed into it, sending shooting pain up her legs. The scrape on her knee had gone numb, which scared her more than when it hurt.
Numbness meant danger.
Numbness meant she was losing the fight to the cold.
She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, fingers tucked into her own body heat. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably.
Earlier, the sunrise had been beautiful.The first one she had seen in person. A moment of fragile, overwhelming wonder.
Now it felt like a memory from someone else's life.
Her foot slipped into a shallow hole beneath the snow. She fell sideways into the mud and slush, a sharp cry tearing from her throat.
She lay there for a moment. Stunned, freezing, hurting.
Then, with slow, heavy breaths, she forced herself upright and crawled toward a tree. She leaned against the trunk, letting its rough bark ground her.
Her hands fumbled with the backpack zipper.
Inside: protein bars, medical tape, the files.
Julie had prepared everything.
Even though she'd known she wouldn't be there to help.
Marigold tore a tiny piece from a protein bar and chewed. The cold made it feel like rubber in her mouth. Swallowing hurt.
Julie died making sure she had this chance.
Marigold wouldn't waste it.
Not even if her legs shook.
Not even if her heart felt like breaking.
Not even if she was more alone now than she had ever been.
She pushed herself up again.
One step.
Another.
Find the Institute.
Find safety.
Find out why Julie had looked at her like she mattered.
The forest had grown darker.
The gray-white sky filtered through the branches in thin beams, but the light felt cold, distant, like the world was dimming around her. Snow settled more heavily now, dusting her hair, clinging to her lashes before melting slowly down her cheeks.
She didn't even bother brushing the flakes away anymore.
Her arms wrapped around herself tighter instead, her shoulders curling inward, body instinctively trying to shield its own warmth.
Every step hurt.
Every breath burned.
Marigold wasn't sure if the shaking in her limbs came from the cold or from the memories clawing at her from the inside.
She wished, desperately, painfully, for warmth.
For anything familiar.
For—
A twig snapped behind her.
She froze.
Her breath caught in her throat.
Her eyes stung, not with tears, but with sharp, instinctive terror.
Someone was there.
She knew the feeling. Being watched, studied, cataloged. She knew it like the cold knew her skin.
Hands trembling, she turned.
"Who's there?" she called, her voice higher than she meant for it to be. "S-Show yourself! I know someone's there!"
She raised her hands, and the forcefields sprang to life. Weak, flickering, but there. A shimmering color that reflected off the frost around her.
A slow rustling.
A shape moved between the trees.
Then a woman stepped into view.
Marigold's heart dropped like a stone in her chest.
Tall.
Blue.
Red hair like burning embers.
Yellow eyes that glowed with something dangerous, clever, curious.
The woman smiled.
"Impressive," she drawled, stepping forward with a hunter's grace. "Very impressive, actually. I can see why my boss is interested in you."
Marigold stiffened, every muscle locking. The forcefields wavered.
"What... what do you want?" she asked. She tried to sound brave.
She did not succeed.
Mystique tilted her head.
"Oh, I think you know what I want, little one."
Her voice was syrupy, almost sweet.
Sweet the way poison could be.
"I want you to come with me."
"No," Marigold whispered immediately.
Mystique laughed. A light, melodic sound that didn't match the sharpness in her eyes.
"You don't even know what I'm offering yet."
"I—I don't care." Marigold tightened her arms around herself. "Julie told me who I'm supposed to find."
"Ah." Mystique's smile soured. "The Xavier Institute. Of course."
Marigold's breath hitched.
Julie had spoken that name with her dying moments.
Even if Marigold didn't understand why, she trusted Julie's last wish more than anything.
Mystique's expression changed. Cooler now, sharper.
"That school is a cage," she said softly. "A prettier one than Hydra, but a cage nonetheless. You think they'll treat you like a person? Like an equal? No. They'll train you. Shape you. Use you."
Marigold swallowed hard.
Her voice came out smaller.
"You're lying."
"Am I?" Mystique asked, stepping closer. Her boots didn't crunch on the snow. She moved too smoothly for that. "You've been used your entire life. Turned into a weapon. You think Xavier's little pets don't fight? Don't bleed? Don't die for their cause?"
Marigold didn't know how to answer that.
She only knew how to curl tighter into herself.
Mystique studied her.
"Poor thing," she murmured. "You look half-frozen. You look like a stray."
The words stung more than the cold.
Because they felt true.
"Come with me, Marigold," Mystique said gently. "We can protect you. You'll be one of us."
Marigold shook her head, breath trembling in the air.
"No. Julie... Julie wanted me to find the X-Men."
"And she died, didn't she?" Mystique replied, her voice suddenly softening. "People die when they care too much. You've learned that already."
A tremor ran through Marigold's legs.
"She cared enough to let you go," Mystique continued, stepping even closer. "Why not honor her by living freely, truly freely? Not under another institution."
Marigold's breath stuttered. Something hot pressed behind her eyes.
"You don't know anything about her," she choked out. "She wasn't like you."
Mystique's smile thinned.
"We'll have to disagree on that."
She lunged.
Marigold reacted purely on instinct. A shimmering shield burst from her hands, slamming Mystique backward and throwing her into the snow.
Mystique grunted, and her eyes flashed.
"Fine," she spat. "The hard way."
Marigold ran.
Branches slapped her shoulders. Snow kicked up behind her. Her breath tore from her lungs, white and frantic in the cold air.
Mystique's footsteps followed.
Soft.
Dangerous.
Too close.
Marigold's vision blurred. Her injured leg screamed. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
She didn't have stamina.
She didn't know what to do.
She had never even run without being told to.
She stumbled, caught herself...
Her foot slid toward a slope she hadn't seen.
Mystique leaped.
Marigold screamed...
And a roar, deep, raw, feral, tore through the forest.
A massive shape flew over her head, slamming into Mystique with brutal force. They hit the snow in a tangle of limbs.
Marigold skidded to a stop, chest heaving.
Claws! Three gleaming metal blades, extended from the man's fists.
Logan.
"Real classy, Mystique," he growled, voice low and full of danger. "Chasin' kids through the woods now?"
Mystique hissed, kicking away from him.
Marigold staggered backward...right into someone warm and steady.
She gasped and turned.
A woman stood there. White hair flowing, eyes soft as moonlight.
Storm.
"It's alright," she whispered, hands raised. "You're safe now."
Marigold blinked.
Her forcefields flickered.
"You're... the Xavier people?" She said, looking at the giant X on the woman's uniform.
"That's right," Logan said gruffly. "Some doc named Julie Brown sent us a message. Told us to find ya."
Julie.
Julie had told them to come.
Her chest tightened painfully.
"She... she told you about me?"
Storm stepped closer, expression aching with understanding.
"You're freezing, child," she murmured. "Let us help you."
Marigold stepped toward her, but the ground began to shake violently.
"Avalanche!" Mystique shouted.
The earth cracked.
Snow shifted beneath Marigold's feet.
"No! no, no—"
She slipped.
The world tilted.
And she fell.
Branches tore at her skin. Rocks slammed into her ribs. The world flipped and spun and roared around her.
She hit the bottom hard.
Everything stilled.
Everything hurt.
And then everything went quiet.
Marigold felt tears freeze on her cheeks.
Not from pain.
But from fear she couldn't contain.
She curled inward, trying to protect herself from the cold, from the world, from everything.
Above her, muffled voices called her name.
Familiar voices.
The ones Julie said she should trust.
But Marigold had learned long ago that trust got people killed.
Snowflakes drifted in and out of her vision. White blurs against the dark trees. The world had turned upside down, and Marigold couldn't tell if she was lying on the ground or floating. The cold seeped deeper into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy, distant.
She blinked hard.
She could hear voices. Muffled, distant, like they were underwater.
And then...
"Marigold!"
Storm's voice.
Soft but sharp with fear.
"Kid! C'mon—where are ya?"
Logan.
Her heart jerked.
She wanted to call out, but her throat wouldn't cooperate. She curled on her side, trying to make herself small. Trying to protect her ribs, her stomach, anything soft and vulnerable.
She didn't realize she was crying until she felt the warm wetness mixing with the cold on her cheeks.
Branches shifted above her.
Boots landed in the snow.
Logan's voice cut through the air.
"I got her scent."
He smelled like leather, metal, and something warm beneath the cold. She heard him land heavily near her, snow crunching under his boots.
"Kid?"
His voice was lower now.
Rough, but gentler than before.
Marigold curled tighter, barely able to lift her head.
Storm landed beside her, feet barely making a sound on the snow. Marigold sighed knowing she had been found and made herself visible to the two adults. The air around her warmed ever so slightly as Storm knelt next to her.
"Oh, sweetheart..." Storm breathed, brushing a cold hand through Marigold's tangled hair. The touch was feather-light, like she was afraid to hurt her. "Can you hear me?"
Marigold managed a tiny nod.
Her vision blurred again.
Storm exhaled shakily, not from cold, but from relief.
"You're alright now. We've got you."
Marigold didn't understand how those words could make her chest hurt and warm all at once.
"Let me take a look," Storm murmured.
Her hands hovered above Marigold's forehead, then her ribs. Marigold flinched when Storm touched the cut near her hairline.
"I'm sorry," Storm whispered. The apology was soft, real. "You're hurt."
"I—I'll be b-better once we g-get out of here," Marigold whispered, voice trembling. "Julie... s-she said... she said to find you."
Storm's eyes softened with such deep warmth that Marigold had to look away.
"We're here," Storm promised. "We found you."
Logan stepped closer, his shadow falling over Marigold. His gaze swept over her small frame, taking in every detail: the shaking, the blue lips, the bare feet, the way she hugged her arms against herself.
His jaw tightened.
Without a word, he unzipped his leather jacket and draped it over her. It fell around her like a blanket, the inside still warm from his body heat.
Marigold gasped, a small, broken sound, at the sudden warmth.
"You need it more than I do," Logan said gruffly.
Storm gave him a faint, grateful smile.
Marigold tried to stand, but the moment her injured leg put weight on the snow, she cried out softly and stumbled.
"Oh no you don't," Logan muttered, stepping forward. Before she could protest, before she could warn him she didn't like being touched, he slid his arms beneath her and lifted her effortlessly off the ground.
Marigold stiffened in shock, every muscle tensed.
Logan paused.
"You okay with this?" he asked quietly. Not gently, exactly, but with something gentler hiding beneath the gravel.
It stunned her.
People didn't ask permission.
People didn't care what she felt.
Her breath trembled.
"Y-yes," she whispered.
He adjusted his hold, settling her against his chest. She weighed next to nothing. He felt that immediately. Her cold fingers curled into the collar of his uniform automatically, like her body had decided it was safer than the ground.
"Hold on tight," Logan told her. "We're gettin' you outta here."
Storm hovered close beside them as they began moving, watching Marigold's face carefully.
"She's freezing," Storm murmured. "And exhausted."
"She'll warm up once we get her inside the jet," Logan said. "And she'll sleep. She needs sleep."
Marigold blinked heavily.
Her head fell against Logan's shoulder without meaning to.
Storm brushed a piece of frozen hair from Marigold's face, her touch lighter than snow.
"You're safe now," she whispered. "We promise."
Marigold wanted desperately...painfully...to believe her.
The forest felt different now.
Less like a maze.
Less like a hungry thing waiting to devour her.
With Logan's steady steps and Storm's warm presence at her side, the looming trees didn't feel as suffocating.
Storm kept glancing at Marigold's face, checking her temperature, murmuring little reassurances that Marigold didn't know how to respond to.
"You're doing so well."
"Just a bit farther."
"We're right here."
Marigold had never had words like that spoken to her.
Not with meaning.
Not with warmth.
Her chest ached with something sharp and unfamiliar.
Logan shifted her slightly as he climbed a small incline, adjusting her weight so she wouldn't jostle too much.
"You're alright, kid," he muttered. "Gotcha."
The words vibrated through his chest into her cheek.
She didn't know how to answer.
So she closed her eyes and held on just a little tighter.
The Blackbird came into view through the trees like a dark metal bird perched on frozen earth. Its engines hummed softly, sending waves of warm air through the clearing.
The moment Storm opened the hatch, heat spilled out like a gift from another world.
Logan carried her inside.
The warmth hit her skin so suddenly she whimpered at the shock. Storm immediately reached for the emergency supplies. Blankets, towels, and clean clothes.
"Let's get her warm," she said softly.
Logan set Marigold gently on one of the seats but crouched in front of her before letting go, making sure she was stable. His hands hovered near her arms as though he wanted to help but wasn't sure how much she'd tolerate.
"You okay to sit?" he asked.
Marigold nodded weakly.
Storm wrapped a towel around her shoulders and began rubbing warmth back into her arms. Marigold flinched at the touch, too sudden, too much.
Storm paused instantly.
"May I?" she asked in a soft voice that didn't push.
It made Marigold's throat tighten.
"Y-Y-yes," she whispered.
Storm's hands were gentle, deliberate. She rubbed warmth back into Marigold's skin the way a mother might after a child came in from the snow. Even the towel smelled warm. Fabric softener, something floral.
Marigold blinked fast against the sudden sting in her eyes.
Storm noticed.
"Hey," she murmured, tilting her head. "You're doing so well."
Logan pulled open a storage compartment and tossed Marigold a thick sweater and sweatpants.
"Put those on," he said. "They'll help."
Storm helped her dress when her fingers shook too badly to manage the fabric. Every time Marigold flinched, Storm waited, Patient, and grounding, until Marigold gave a little nod to continue.
By the time she was wrapped in clean clothes, she was already warming up. Her cheeks had regained a hint of color. Her lips weren't blue anymore.
But her eyes...
Her eyes stayed hollow with exhaustion.
- Professor Xavier Pov-
The sound of wheels on metal reached them before the Professor appeared at the front of the jet. His expression softened immediately when he saw Marigold wrapped in blankets, leaning weakly against Storm.
"It's nice to finally meet you, Marigold," he said gently. "Although I wish it were under better circumstances."
Logan draped another blanket around her shoulders. Storm adjusted it so it tucked beneath her chin.
Marigold swallowed.
"Th-thank you," she whispered. "For... coming to find me. Julie... she told me about you. Before she died."
A look passed between the three adults. Soft, sad, full of unspoken weight.
"I can imagine you're frightened," Xavier said. "All of this is overwhelming. But you're safe now. Truly safe."
A tiny tremor ran up Marigold's spine, relief or fear, she couldn't tell.
"She was the closest thing I had to..." Marigold's voice wavered. "She was all I had left."
Storm's eyes shone with compassion.
Xavier rolled forward and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. The touch was grounding in a way she didn't know she needed.
"You may not have had a family before," Xavier said softly. "But you are not alone now. We will take care of you."
Marigold's breath hitched, tears threatening again, but this time softer, quieter.
She nodded.
Then sagged forward with exhaustion.
Logan caught her automatically before she could fall.
"Easy there, kid," he murmured. "You're okay. We gotcha."
Storm helped guide her to a reclining seat. Xavier placed a blanket over her legs. Logan pulled another around her shoulders.
Marigold blinked sleepily.
Her fingers, almost without her noticing, reached out and curled around Xavier's sleeve, seeking reassurance.
He covered her hand with his own.
"Rest now," he said. "You're safe."
And for the first time in her life, she believed it.
Just a little.
Her eyes drifted closed.
And the world finally fell quiet.
The Blackbird hummed steadily beneath her. Deep, low, comforting. The warmth inside the jet wrapped around Marigold like a cocoon, melting the ice that had settled into her bones. Blankets piled around her shoulders, soft and heavy. Logan's jacket lay draped across her lap like a shield, smelling faintly of leather and pine and cold winter air.
Storm sat beside her, one hand resting gently, always gently, on the back of Marigold's seat. Logan remained in the pilot's chair, glancing back more often than he probably realized. Professor Xavier was positioned near the front, quietly monitoring her with a warmth she could feel rather than see.
Marigold hadn't known warmth like this existed.
Not warmth that didn't hurt.
Not warmth without rules.
Not warmth without conditions.
Her eyelids drooped, but she fought sleep for a moment longer. Something inside her wanted to stay awake. Wanted to watch these people. These strangers who had come all the way here just to find her. Julie had trusted them. And Julie had rarely trusted anyone.
The engines shifted as Logan adjusted their altitude.
"Hold on, kid," he said without turning around. "Gonna smoothing us out above the clouds."
Marigold's grip tightened on the blanket at the sound of his voice.
He didn't even look back, but his tone softened. "Yer good. Just noise. Plane's fine."
Storm smiled gently at her. "Logan may sound gruff, but he flies more smoothly than he talks."
"Hey," Logan called back. "I heard that."
Storm's soft laugh warmed the air.
Marigold's lips twitched, the ghost of a smile.
When the jet cut through the last layer of cloud, Marigold's eyes widened. She sat up straighter without thinking, leaning toward the window.
The world outside was breathtaking.
A horizon of endless orange and gold stretched in every direction, painted across the tops of clouds that glowed like fire. The sun hovered low, casting long rays that shimmered across the Blackbird's metal wings.
Marigold pressed a hand to the glass, breath fogging faintly against it.
"It's... beautiful," she whispered.
The memory of that morning's sunrise stirred inside her. Her first sunrise. The colors had been pale and delicate. But this?
This was a sky on fire. A sky big enough to swallow everything she had left behind and everything she had feared.
Storm leaned a little closer, voice soft. "I never get tired of it."
Marigold's fingers curled slowly against the window frame. She didn't know why, but her throat tightened.
"I saw my first sunrise this morning," she whispered. "And now I'm seeing my first sunset."
Logan glanced back again, more openly this time, and for once his expression wasn't guarded or sharp. It was softer. Warmer.
"Kid's had a hell of a day," he muttered under his breath.
To Marigold, he added, "You'll see more. A lot more. We fly a lot."
The warmth in his voice made something fragile inside her tremble.
Marigold sank back into her seat, pulling the blanket closer. She watched the sky shift as the jet cut through the last rays of sunlight.
But the quiet inside the jet began stirring something uneasy.
Her breaths slowed.
Her fingers twisted in the blanket.
Her chest tightened with a painful, familiar squeezing.
Storm noticed first.
"Marigold?" she asked softly. "What are you thinking, child?"
Marigold shook her head, staring down.
"What do I do now? I've always dreamed of leaving the facility, but now I don't know how to be normal."
Storm stilled.
Logan's hands tightened on the controls.
He didn't turn around, but she could feel his attention shift toward her.
Marigold swallowed hard. Her voice was small and tight.
"I... I don't know how to, how to live. Outside. Without orders. Without rules. Without..." She pulled the blanket tighter around herself. "Without someone telling me who I am supposed to be."
Silence fell for a beat.
Not cold.
Not uncomfortable.
Thoughtful.
Xavier broke it gently.
"That's why our school exists," he said. "To teach young mutants how to control their abilities, yes, but also to discover who they are beyond them."
Storm nodded, her fingers brushing a stray hair from Marigold's forehead.
"You're more than what Hydra tried to make you," Storm said. "Much more."
Marigold's breath hitched.
"But I don't know... anything." She lifted her eyes just enough to meet Storm's. "I don't know how to talk to people. I don't know how to sleep in beds. I don't know if I like food or books or... anything. How do I... start?"
Storm's hand cupped her cheek gently.
"You start by being safe."
Logan murmured from the cockpit, "Normal's overrated anyway."
That earned a tiny, broken laugh from Marigold. A sound that surprised even her.
Storm reached across a small compartment and pulled out a metal thermos.
"Can you drink something warm?" she asked.
Marigold hesitated. Warm drinks had always been... controlled. Often used to calm subjects. Or sedate them.
Storm saw the hesitation. She unscrewed the lid and took a sip herself before offering it.
"It's just tea," she said. "I promise."
Marigold reached for it slowly. Her hands shook so badly that Storm steadied the thermos with her own.
The warmth seeped through her fingers, up her palms, all the way to her chest. Her eyes fluttered shut at the simple comfort.
Storm's voice was quiet.
"You're not a subject here. You're a child."
Marigold had never been called that before.
Not kindly.
Not without an edge.
Her eyes stung again.
She took a sip of the tea. Sweet, earthy, floral. Nothing was hidden in its taste. No bitterness. No sharpness.
Storm's hand rested against her upper back, rubbing gentle circles. Slow, steady, grounding.
Marigold leaned into it without thinking.
Logan didn't turn, but she could see his reflection in the cockpit glass. His jaw clenched once, like he was trying not to feel anything at the sight.
When the tea was gone, Marigold's head drooped. Her eyelids grew heavy. The warmth made her feel safe, but safety was almost more frightening than danger. Her breathing stuttered.
Xavier noticed the shift immediately.
"Marigold," he said gently, "what's troubling you?"
Her voice trembled.
"I... I lost the backpack Julie gave me."
Logan turned halfway in his seat.
Storm froze.
Xavier leaned closer.
Marigold shook her head, panic rising.
"I dropped it when...when I fell down the hill. I should've held on. I should've—"
"Marigold," Xavier said softly.
She stopped.
Not because of a command.
But because the tone was so calm, so warm, so unlike anything she had heard in her life.
Xavier continued, "No one is angry. You are safe. That is all that matters right now."
Marigold blinked. Hard.
Her breath shuddered.
Storm wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders.
"Losing the bag isn't your fault. You were being chased by Mystique, and the ground gave out beneath you."
Logan added, "Kid, you survived a building on fire. A forest. An ambush. And a fall. Backpack's not more important than you."
The sincerity in his voice nearly broke her.
Her fingers curled around Storm's sleeve.
She whispered, "I'm sorry."
Storm pressed a kiss to the top of her head. Soft, instinctive, maternal.
"You have nothing to be sorry for."
A sound escaped Marigold's throat then. Like a child who hadn't known tenderness in years. Maybe ever.
Her body finally gave in.
Her eyelids slid shut.
Her breath deepened.
Her grip on Storm's sleeve loosened but didn't let go entirely.
Xavier pulled a thick blanket over her.
Storm brushed her hair back until it laid smooth across her forehead.
Logan dimmed the lights in the cabin.
The jet flew on. Steady, warm, safe.
For the first time in her life, Marigold slept without being watched.
Without being monitored.
Without being feared.
She slept as a child sleeps. Exhausted, vulnerable, and wrapped in the quiet, unspoken promise of protection.