RUTH HATED THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate its benefits to keeping houses from being engulfed in the flames started by stoves and small appliance malfunctions, or that she wasn't aware of the benefits of having the technology to stop fires before they consumed homes and lives. There was nothing about the fire extinguisher that she had any fundamental qualms with.

She just didn't like it being used on her.

"Dr. McCoy!" she shrieked, holding up her arms in a useless attempt to block all the spray aimed directly at her head as she was startled from yet another intense nightmare, her heart rate only increasing as her face was covered by a mask, regulating her breathing and protecting her eyes.

"I'm sorry!" Hank McCoy called, his face turned away as he finished aiming the fire extinguisher towards her, setting it onto the ground carefully before reaching out and carrying her off her bed and towards the door, tugging the mask off her face, "The Professor told me to camp outside of your room in case something went wrong. And it did."

She coughed, trying to fan away the fumes, pointing harshly towards the mask he held in his hand, struggling to take deep breaths in order to calm down, and Hank finally pushed the both of them out of the room, letting her sit and lowering her head in between her knees to regulate her breathing on her own terms, her heart rate decreasing back to normal.

She sighed as she tilted her head back, her vision blurry as she pointed towards the mask that had long since been a familiar entity in her life. Since the carbon dioxide from the fire extinguisher would have blinded her, as well as forced her into a terrible fit, Hank made her the mask to protect her, just until he was able to figure out a formula that would be able to put out her fires without causing her any physical harm.

She didn't like how terrifying the mask looked, it was like Hank had gotten it back during WWI. Of course, despite the decelerated aging rate in mutants, he was old by non-mutant standards, so she wouldn't have batted an eye if he said he had lived to see both World Wars and had been a scientist aiding the war effort.

She reminded herself to ask him about it some time, maybe get him to do her school work in the process. Of course, it was summer, so there wasn't much need for that, but when September rolled back around, she knew what she would be doing.

If she lasted until then, of course.

"What happened this time?" Hank asked, taking a seat next to her on the floor, and it was then that she noticed all the scattered papers and stationary around her.

He caught her eye and shrugged. "I figured I could get some work done while I waited to make sure nothing bad was going to happen. Turns out, something did, but at least I was able to start on some work. But back to you."

She shrugged, making a noise in the back of her throat as she felt her eyelids begin to droop, struggling to fight back a yawn as the panic of the nightmare and being woken up settled, leaving her utterly exhausted and ready to go back to sleep.

"It was just another nightmare," she explained, feeling a chill rush through her as she tried to remember her nightmare, only bits and pieces rising to the surface, the sounds so crystal clear, and she could hardly differentiate dream from memory at this point, what with how many times her memories had replayed in her mind with details just shifted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Hank asked, and while the man had six PhD's, he clearly wasn't comfortable fitting into his unpracticed role as therapist, which he had had to fill ever since their counselor had been called back to her home out of the country to take care of her ailing parents.

"Not really," she mumbled, because all she wanted to do was forget everything that had happened.

Unfortunately for her, the Professor wasn't willing to take those memories away, no matter how much she begged him to; it seemed he was much more willing to talk through all the tears and screaming rather than finding the easy way out.

"Well, if you want to, just come find me or Charles, we'll be more than happy to listen," Hank said, and she believed him, because it wasn't as if the two had much else to do in the sparsely populated mansion, but that didn't mean she was ever planning on taking him up on it.

The two fell into a silence, and Ruth wasn't sure whether it was uncomfortable or not, but she just sat on the floor with her hands in her lap, not thinking, and Hank was the exact same, leaving his work to sit around him, and she had to appreciate the effort he was making into ensuring she felt solidarity and comfort around him, even if he wasn't quite sure how.

"Do you want to go back to sleep?" he asked after an indeterminable amount of time, turning to look at her, and she had to pause, mulling over his words for a few moments before responding, which wasn't something she often did, especially not recently, so she had to give herself credit for that.

She thought back to her empty room with nothing but darkness and her own thoughts to keep her company, then to the hallway with comforting lights and Hank, with things to occupy her mind, distracting her from the thoughts and memories that denied her peace.

"No," she said, her voice so hoarse that it was hardly even a whisper, and she tried to shake her head, but found that she could hardly move, her body strangely numb, as if she were still asleep, her limbs heavy.

Hank tried to fight back a sigh, but Ruth caught the tell-tale sound and the rise and slump of his shoulders, and debated just lying and telling him that she would be fine, she could go back to her room, because they weren't friends by any means and, having arrived just as classes ended, she hardly knew him as a teacher, so there was no reason to expect him to actively spend time with her in order to curb the nightmares that found purchase in her fleeting moments of empty every night.

But then she thought about all the memories that surfaced and all the nightmares she had, and the guilt she felt for inconveniencing him melted away in favor of self-preservation, because as a teacher Hank was expected to make some sacrifices, and while it was summer break, his position still stood and, having been sent by the Professor to keep an eye on her that night, it wouldn't be a stretch to say it was his job to make sure she stayed well enough to not cause any more incidents throughout the dark hours.

"I have some blankets and pillows in the lab," he said, gathering his things and standing up, and it wasn't until Ruth had pushed herself up onto her feet that he realized he should have probably offered her a hand, his reaction delayed but the attempt duly noted, Ruth catching the pens that nearly fell from his hands as he jerked towards her.

"Thank you," the two said in unison, Hank for his pen and Ruth for his time, the two giving the other a pursed lipped smile, manners taking hold, but no true attachment beyond the one they had backing the actions.

With that, the two made their way down the halls and through the mansion, making their way towards Hank's renovated lab. Of course, the entire mansion was renovated, but the point still stood. 

Ruth's bare feet padded against the floor, shivering as they walked over alternating carpet and hardwood floor, the fluctuation between the textures and temperatures rendering her unable to relax, the scratch of the carpet making her itch and the cold expanse of the hardwood making her tense.

By the time they made it to the lab, Ruth was far too awake to fall asleep, but was far too tired to stay fully awake. As they entered the room, Ruth shivered at the feeling of the cold concrete floor, wishing nothing more than to have some control of her powers, if only to warm herself up, watching as Hank made his way towards one of the many cabinets, pulling out a pillow and a blanket, bringing them over to a table that was reminiscent of the ones found in the medical wing, which Ruth had frequented more than she would have liked.

"It's not a bed, but it's better than nothing," Hank reasoned, and Ruth didn't respond, instead just hopping up onto the table, taking the pillows and blankets from him, getting settled into her makeshift bed.

Turning so she could still see him, Ruth watched as Hank, after checking to make sure she was okay, made his way to his desk where stacks upon stacks of files and papers and books were waiting for him, monitors and a television propped up sections added onto the various desks that were pushed together.

It didn't take long for the man to get to work, and it was a shock to Ruth that the sounds of him working were as soothing as they were. It wasn't necessarily rhythmic, but there was a general cadence to the way Hank shuffled his papers and typed on the keyboard, his pen scratching against various surfaces every so often, his quiet mumblings virtually inaudible, blending into the general sounds of existence and nothingness, but providing Ruth with the distraction she needed to ignore the nagging of her own mind, at least for the time being.

It wasn't peace, not by any means, but it was calm, and that was good enough for her.

She didn't know when she started to doze off, or even when she had closed her eyes, but before either of them knew, Ruth had fallen back asleep, falling back into the light hold of the few moments of solace she wasn't always allowed to have.

º º º

Ruth didn't know what woke her up, but she soon found faced with a significantly dimmer room, the lights a dull glow akin to the dying embers she would often stare at during the bonfires and camping trips she and her family would occasionally have. She felt a chill run through her body, jolting forward as the memories came flooding back, emotions so strong that her back tensed and feet began to shake as she fought through the visceral reactions to the onslaught she hadn't been able to avoid in time.

When the moment finally passed, she found herself needing to stretch, the feeling of her skin crawling subsiding, but not entirely gone. It took her a few, vulnerable moments, and it wasn't until she was finished stretching, her back popped and her muscles relaxed, that she felt her skin crawl for more sinister reasons. 

Looking around the dim room, she half expected to find someone standing there, watching her, and she wasn't sure if the empty space she faced was more comforting or concerning, but as she turned back around, half expecting a person to be standing in front of her, she felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

Looking around her, she found a note on the floor that had most likely been placed next to her, but had been knocked off in her sleep, blue ink tainting the slightly folded paper in his illegible scrawl.

Dropping down from the table, she bent down and picked up the paper, feeling the need to look all around her before looking down and reading. 

I had to go run an errand for the Professor, if you wake up before I get back, just go back to sleep or go get yourself some food. Do whatever you need, but please don't touch my work. You know where the Professor's room is if you need him.

— Dr. McCoy

While it gave her some reprieve to know that Hank hadn't abandoned her or been kidnapped, the empty room was still rather unnerving and she didn't feel comfortable staying inside, but since Hank didn't have a clock hanging anywhere on the walls of the room, she wasn't able to immediately leave, unsure of whether or not it was a respectable time to head into the kitchen to get something to eat and simply wait for Hank to return; while there wasn't an open window in the room, there was just something in the silence that told her that it was still dark out.

As she looked around for where Hank could have placed a clock, she couldn't help but snoop at some of the blueprints he had laying around, despite what his note had told her. She found sketches for upgrades to a jet and other plane-like designs that she couldn't quite understand, but were still concerning nevertheless. She had heard about what had happened to the mansion before she had arrived, so the idea of him going back to the same problem had her concerned, though it had been brought to her attention that they had built a separate bunker on the outskirts of the grounds, which was most likely safety enough for them.

Finally finding a clock, Ruth groaned when she saw that it was only three in the morning; she hadn't been asleep for very long, but she was too awake to go back to sleep, but far too tired to try and act like she didn't want to lie back down.

Despite the conflict, she knew that she didn't want to stay in the lab, especially when she saw a shadow move out of the corner of her eye, the feeling of being watched so strong that she couldn't help but whirl around, finding nothing there.

Of course, Ruth knew better than to think that the shadow moving was genuinely something there. After all, it was dark and her eyes were constantly moving, searching in her periphery for something, so it only made sense that her eyes would create the illusion of something moving just out of view. There was a logical explanation and she was more than aware of it.

That didn't stop her from sprinting out of the room.

Pushing open the door, she couldn't help but look behind her as it closed, afraid of what she might see, only to find nothing except an empty room and the closing of the door, her eyes tricking her into seeing a darker shadow just in the corner of the already shadow-filled room, her heart skipping a beat.

She whirled around and tried to take a calming breaths as she made her way down the hall, searching for any sign of non-threatening life, though she didn't know how she would react if she found another mutant just wandering around the halls in the middle of the night like her.

She didn't know how many were staying over the summer as she was, but she had seen some pictures of the way some looked, and while she had nothing against the way anyone looked—rather hypocritical of her if she did, considering her life growing up—seeing someone with glowing eyes or some other physical mutation this late at night was something she probably wouldn't take well.

She had hoped that thought would help ground her, remind her to stay calm in the event that something like that did happen—she didn't want to offend anyone—and while it did to a certain degree, she suddenly realized how vulnerable she was, not paying any attention, and goosebumps immediately began to crawl up and down her arms.

She started to move faster down the hall, her heart pounding as the moonlight peeking through the curtains over the windows, and the occasional dull lights hanging on the walls, cast shadows that reached out to where she stood in the center, not wanting to get too close to where someone could be hiding. 

As she turned her head back forward from where she had been looking at a curtain that shouldn't have been billowing the way it was, she caught sight of movement out the corner of her eye, and her heart leaped into her throat because she knew that it was all in her head, she knew, but it wasn't a black shadow there was color, there was skin, she was sure it was a person, but when she looked there was no one there.

But then she felt someone standing just a few feet behind her and it was as if everything she did was in slow motion, her body disconnected from her soul and reality, running on a growing fear and adrenaline, her heart pounding in her arms, her entire body shaking along with it, and she didn't find anyone behind her, but logic stood no chance against fear, and it was hard to explain away constant movement just out of the corner of her eye.

"Professor," she called, unable to help herself as she desperately tried to fill the deafening silence that surrounded her, her feet starting to pick up as she started to run down the halls, trying to remember where she was and the way back to her room, cursing herself for not going out more in order to have the layout of the mansion memorized.

Of course, she had no reason to go outside to be with anyone, but what she wouldn't give for some safe company.

As she started to run, she fought to try and ignore the silence around her, any and all sounds seeming all the more menacing in the empty darkness, but any hope of calming the pounding of her heart died when she started to hear footsteps following her.

Nearly tripping, Ruth whirled around, desperate to find whomever was following her, and part of her tried to scream, tried to explain that it was just the echo of her feet slapping against the hardwood floor, but then another part told her that sound is swallowed if there are things within the room to absorb the noise, and no matter what it was there was no convincing her that there wasn't something wrong, because ghosts weren't real and there was no way anyone could trespass in the mansion, but Hank had left and the Professor was asleep and she didn't know how many mutants had stayed behind for the summer, but she was all that was there, and after everything she had done she wouldn't be surprised if someone was after her right then and there.

She struggled to breathe as she continued to move, now sprinting at this point, and she couldn't understand why these hallways were so long and she was getting lost and she felt her heart rise up in her throat as she realized that some hallways had to have ends, and she didn't know which ones did and which didn't, and she didn't know what to do if she found herself there.

In her panic, the blood that continuously roared in her ears gave way to sounds that weren't there, breathing that was hers warped into the sounds of breathing from far away, footsteps still following that weren't there, her constant movement and the panic rising, causing her to see more movement out of the corners of her eyes, and she saw a flash of black hair and a sliver of pale flesh and she couldn't see, but she could feel.

She could feel them closing in and she couldn't breathe, couldn't stop, her feet slapping against the hardwood floor and she couldn't find Hank or the Professor and these hallways were so long, and she saw the small, slightly brighter lights that were always lit by the stairs, desperately chasing after them, but as she turned to make her way there, she caught sight of a face just inches from her own nestled into the darkness of the barely lit hall and she couldn't even scream, throwing herself away from something that wasn't even there, logic gone and pure fear coursing through her, sending her sprinting towards more lights that would give her no safety.

Thinking wasn't an option and breathing was forgotten, and Ruth couldn't even remember how to do either, let alone fathom on taking a moment to try, the very idea of stopping foreign, nothing existing in her being except the need to run, the need to get away, because her other option was to stop and let whatever was chasing her show itself or prove it wasn't there, and that wasn't about to happen because her mind and body weren't one, her mind trapped in a dream and her body trapped in a nightmare.

Then the lights started to flicker. 

Ruth wasn't sure if she screamed, but it didn't matter either way, her chest constricting as oxygen became a scarcity and her vision began to blur, panic settling and her breath catching and her couldn't catch anything more than a sharp, shallow inhale that didn't nothing but cause her body more panic, unable to breathe and now unable to see, the flickering more intense as the power began to fluctuate and she couldn't stop running and she couldn't think and she couldn't breathe and the sounds were getting louder and she could see the movements more clear, but there was nothing there, but she couldn't tell because the lights were dimming and brightening, finally rising until she could hardly look at them, her eyes unable to adjust, black spots crowding her vision, everything so bright until—

Pop.

Ruth screamed as the lights went out, plunging her into darkness, a black and empty and completely silent that she couldn't escape and the shadows were everywhere and she could feel them following, she could feel them getting closer, and she couldn't breathe and she couldn't think and she couldn't get away.

Then she heard them. The footsteps, this time real, coming closer and closer and they couldn't be her own, but that didn't matter because all she could do was run, but she had nowhere to go, the feeble moonlight doing nothing but reminding of how alone she was, and as she rounded the corner, she realized with a horrifying start that she was nearing a dead end, the sight of a doorknob glimmering on the other end, and a scream rose in her throat as the footsteps began to overpower the sounds of the blood roaring in her ears.

Then a hand wrapped around her arm, pulling her back, and a contorted, grinning face of a woman that didn't exist jumped from out of the shadows just out of her sight and she screamed, her heart bursting as she ripped away from the hand and the face and she ran and ran until she realized she wasn't running at all.

Until she hit her head on the ceiling and came tumbling back to the ground, black filling her vision until everything became the nothing it always was.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

( 06.12.19 )

BACKSTREET'S BACK ALRIGHT! Ah, guys, I'm so much happier with this start, I'm not cringing, it introduces Ruth, it's accurate to how fire extinguisher's affect people, we see how the Professor and Hank would have actually reacted to her mutation, what with how volatile it is, it references the fact that Hank does in fact have that many PhD's, it's set in summer so it makes sense that they have all this free time and so few other mutants around, the way her wings are shown actually has a logical context behind it, I'm so happy. Of course, I'm not super happy with the ending and the way I wrote it, I feel it could've been more intense and more scared, but it was the best I could do and, at the very least, has more emphasis than how the original chapter had.

Also, this is being posted a day before the three year anniversary of the original chapter and it's over twice as long, so I'm very proud!

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!