It wasn't my fault. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't.

I could run through that pathetic mantra over and over again until the words became meaningless, and I still wouldn't be pacified. Come to think of it, you only hear people say things like that when it was their fault. Accidents are still the result of cause and effect, no matter the intention. Even if someone didn't mean to knock over a vase when they tripped, it was still their fault it was broken, right?

No, that couldn't be right. If there was justice, accidents would be just that. Accidents. No one should pay for a mistake beyond their control. Especially not me. Did I sound like a psychopath or what?

It wasn't my fault. I'd swear on it, if it came down to it.

I had to admit, I had every doubt the police officers in the front seat of the cruiser I'd been tossed in would believe that. I doubted any jury of normal people would believe it. The parents of those kids on their way to the hospital now wouldn't believe it. I wasn't sure I believed it.

Even so, there were some aspects to what had just happened that were inherently not my fault. The rocks thrown from counter-protesters. The mud in my face. The police intervention. Rubber bullets. Fire, igniting the dry grass. The panic that shook the campus quad. Not my fault.

What was my fault, and what got me carted away so fast I didn't even have time to cry out, was my reaction. The two kids thrown to the ground with the wind knocked out of them. The rock I deflected that cut a gash in the forehead of an onlooker. The looks of horror from those closest to me when they saw what I could do, what I instinctively had to do, to protect myself.

The truth was, I'd always been shit at controlling my powers. Now, I was paying the price.

Ick. Powers. I hated that word. It's supposed to be used for someone powerful, like one of the damn Avengers. Someone righteous, who saved the day on a consistent basis. Not for someone plain and regular like me who just happened to be unlucky enough to be born this way.

I don't know how long I sat with my dirty face smooshed up against the glass window before the police car turned off. We had arrived at the station. The "Downtown". The "Big House". The place where the tranquilized had hit my neck hurt. The cuffs on my tiny wrists were finally starting to itch. Yeah, they used actual cuffs on me. Not those plastic ties that you see in modern movies that make a hell of a lot more sense to place on criminals. Amateur move number one, because for all they knew I could've been the daughter of Magneto.

The second I was led into the station I was hit with a sensory overload.

"…at Carroll Community College earlier this evening. Seven were injured. One in critical condition."

It felt like more than just a coincidence that the news was blaring loudly over the din. It became the clearest sound in the room, every word like a slap in the face. I was sure that God or some higher being was purposefully adding fuel to my roaring flame of shame, and it took all the strength I could muster not to grumble out loud. My picture, taken from my Facebook profile picture (thanks, Zuckerberg), flashed on the screen among about ten other protesters. Feeling eyes on me from every corner as I was pushed through the lobby by two stereotypically burly male officers, I turned my stare to the floor in front of me.

My escorts pushed open a door to reveal a long white hall. I had never been arrested before, but I definitely never imagined the place looking so…sterile. The fluorescent lights against the pure walls made me feel seasick. Doors with tiny square windows lined the walls. When we reached the last one on the left, the larger of the two officers punched in a key code in the numbered lock and the door swung open. For a brief moment, I tried to remember what the code was, but immediately realized that it wouldn't be much help once I was inside the tiny dungeon. With a light but gruff nudge, the other policeman guided me inside. He removed my restraints after giving me a look that plainly read, "Don't try anything funny." I rubbed my wrists in relief and examined the room while the two cops loomed in the doorway.

"Comfy?" The large one asked.

"I was expecting bars," I said. "Kind of impressive for a holding cell."

"Your parents have been notified. Someone will retrieve you for questioning."

"Questioning? Why? When? And do I get a lawyer or something?"

The officers ignored me as they turned their backs. Suddenly, the walkie-talkie on the smaller one's belt began to crackle and hiss until the words of a woman on the other end could be understood.

"This is Smith. We've apprehended the pyro and are bringing him in now. Status report on the girl?" The voice sounded unprofessionally excited.

Grunting, the officer unclipped his radio and held it up to his lips. "Settling her in now. I take it that means backup was successful."

Another moment went by before the voice returned.

"He is restrained and immobilized. Others from the protest still at large, but we're turning the hunt over to Sentinel Services. Over and out."

Huh. So some had escaped, after all. I had about a million questions, but just as the officers started to leave all I could blurt out was, "Don't I get a phone call?"

The two looked almost amused. One turned around and approached me like a triumphant cat would an already bleeding mouse. When he was within an inch of my face, I could smell onion and hot dog that the man had clearly attempted to mask with a weak mint. I'd logically had no reason to hate these officers before, but now the anger bubbling inside me felt well deserved.

"Who the hell would you call? Your mommy and daddy? They're not coming for you anytime soon, sweetheart. We just talked to them. They're scared of you. Everyone is. You're probably the most hated girl in Westminster right about now. Sure, you can get a free phone call. Just tell me who the hell you're gonna call," He whispered.

I said nothing at first, and looked down at the floor. Satisfied with himself, the officer turned his back on me and proceeded once more towards the exit.

"…Ghostbusters?

Suddenly, I was pushed up against the wall of my cell. The other officer came up and tried to pull his partner back, but his efforts were hardly noticed.

"What did you say, punk?"

"N-no one. I have no one to call."

I was immediately released. The attack hadn't been with his full force, but I was sure he was holding back with every inch of self-restraint he had. Just as I had been. He glared at me one last time, shaking off the hand his partner had placed on his shoulder.

"That's right. Fucking mutie scum."

"Leave her alone, Jeff, for Chrissakes she's a kid."

Before I could blink, they both were gone and the door shut tightly. I could still hear them as their voices faded down the hall.

"Got a kid who goes to CCC," Jeff was explaining to his partner. "She wasn't there, but by God I can't help thinking about what coulda happened."

"That's why these laws are in place, man. Just let justice do its thing."

Justice. The word seemed out of place in that context. Was it justice that my very existence was now illegal in the state of Maryland? I should have left this town in my dust the second I graduated, but I'd been lazy. That's a sin or something, I think. The light from the bright walls outside barely reached me through the tiny square window, and I was coiled in dimness. I felt my breathing get quicker and heavier, so I settled down on the hard bench in the corner of the room. My hands shook ferociously. Holding my breath, I reached one in front of me, palm outstretched. I closed my eyes. I felt a familiar flickering sensation, starting from the top of my skull and flowing through to my arm. As expected, a ripple of what looked like purple electricity wove in and out between my fingers. Slowly closing my hand, the energy solidified into a small translucent ball.

"I can control you after all, can't I," I murmured. "Just not when I need to the most, apparently." Not wanting a reminder of that day's events, I clenched my fists and shoved them deep into my sweatshirt pockets.

I fell in and out of consciousness for the next few hours. At one point I awoke in a haze to the sound of thumping and muffled yells from the cell to my left. I held myself perfectly still so I could hear, but after a sharp shout, everything fell silent. I suspected whoever it was had just been tased. Tears stinging my eyes, I tried to pretend it was all a dream and drifted back into some sort of sleep.

My rest didn't last very long. An hour later, the door screeched open, the hard light burning as it flooded the room. I opened my eyes wearily to behold a short man in suspenders standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. His look reminded me instantly of old detective movies. All that was missing was a cigar dangling from his mouth.

"Miss Addams? Come with me, please," He said huskily.

Slowly, I stood up and approached him. Before we left the room, he bestowed upon me a new set of cuffs, this time plastic and more like the kind I'd seen onscreen. We walked down the hall in silence, a firm hand pressed to my back for the duration of the trip. We stopped in front of an army green door, the only non-white door I had seen so far.

"The name's Detective Hamill. You're going to sit in there, not cause any trouble, and wait for me to return. You got that?" Hamill's voice was not aggressive. In fact, he sounded almost as tired as I felt. She nodded, and he opened the door.

There was already someone seated at the table placed in the center of the room. A man who must have been in his late twenties with golden hair, sporting a tight-lipped sneer as I was brought into the room. It didn't look right on his boyish face. He, too, was wearing hand-ties. His black rimmed glasses made him look like a collegiate jock, and I felt an unintended rush of mistrust. Hamill gestured to the open chair beside the man and I took it, begrudgingly.

"You've got those on too tight, detective," My fellow prisoner noted casually, pointing to my ties. He spoke in a British accent, which I hadn't been expecting. "Poor girl's going to lose circulation."

"Shut up," suggested Hamill. He turned to me. "They hurt?"

"No," I lied. I didn't want to give the presumptuous man the satisfaction of being right, nor did I want to seem weak.

"Good. Neither of you need use of your hands any time soon, anyway," Hamill said. "Sit back. I'll be in soon."

The detective slammed the door behind him after he left. The two detainees sat quietly for a bit. I stole a glance at the man, who was blowing air now and then between pursed lips to fill the silence. It was only then that I realized I recognized him.

"You were there, today? At the protest," I murmured. It was a dumb question-why else would we both be sitting there? I had a vivid memory of his simple picket sign, "No Equality, No Peace." He didn't look at me, just kept staring straight ahead at the two-way mirror imbedded in the wall.

"I was," He said simply. "And so were you. You were marvelous. I've never seen a power quite like that."

I wasn't sure how to take the compliment, nor could I return it. I must've been incapacitated by the time he started using.

"What do you think they want us to talk about?" I asked, looking at the mirror. "They must've left us alone together for a reason."

"Oh, probably just hoping one of us will say something like, 'Those humans got what was coming to them!'. Y'know. Something conviction-worthy."

"There's the sound-byte," I rolled my eyes. Then, I paused, realizing what he had just said. "Wait, conviction? They can't seriously…it was an accident!" That was my story and I was sticking to it.

"So are most car crashes, but someone's always to blame. In this case, it's you, me, and the other mutes who couldn't keep it in. Seven hospitalized, was it?"

I huffed and began plucking absentmindedly at a bolt sticking out of the table.

"And all of them human to the core."

"Just our luck," He smirked.

"So, you're the pyro, yeah?" I asked quietly. "I heard them talking about you over the radio."

He looked almost offended as he let out an over-dramatic sigh.

"I'm not a pyro, Jesus. It's way more complicated than that. I'd show you, but these ties aren't just pretty bracelets. I got a nasty shock a few minutes before you came in when I tried to light up."

I looked down at the ties. They didn't seem all that high-tech, but word on the street was the government had been reserving some pretty nifty devices to keep mutants in check. Truth be told, I hadn't even thought to use my abilities. I genuinely did not want to land in more trouble than I was already in for.

The door creaked open again and Detective Hamill stooped in. He sat across from us, the chair screeching in an almost satisfying way as he scooted close to the table.

"I take it you two don't know each other after all," He growled. "Can I take it that also means you don't know the other mutants at that protest who got away?"

We looked at each other, then shook our heads. I wasn't lying, but I would've played innocent either way. I ain't no snitch, as someone in a cop movie said one time probably.

"Oh, so just because we're mutants, we all must know each other, is that it?" The prisoner joked. The comment was ignored.

"Pity," Hamill sighed, though I'm sure he didn't mean it. He looked like he wished he had some papers to rifle through, or a gun to twirl. "It really would've helped bring down the charges if you could help us find 'em."

Aha. That was why we were being questioned together. They wanted to gain as much information as they could without having to pry or bribe it from us. They were clearly wasting their time on two average-joes like me and this British guy. Although, maybe he wasn't average. I didn't know yet.

"So, we're being charged, then?" the non-pyro asked, his jaw tense. I hadn't even registered that part. "For what?"

"Destruction of property, disturbing the peace, and—oh, yeah, unlawful use of weapons," Hamill almost laughed.

"Our mutations are not weapons," growled the man.

"Actually, under Maryland state law, they are. Believe me, I understand that you think you're above the law. It's not uncommon for a mutant rights protest gets out of hand like this."

Again, the door opened, and I almost jumped at the noise. Jeff, the aggressive cop stood in the doorway, plaintive.

"I think we'll do this one at a time, folks. Ladies first? Mr. Church, you'll return to your cell for the time being," Hamill gestured at his cop buddy, who began to close in. Church raised his bound hands in defeat and stood up.

"Call off your goon, I'll wait my turn," He moved to the door with an unnecessary shove from Jeff.

I was left alone with the detective. He looked like a lazy toad as he settled deeper into his seat, waiting for me to make a move so he could pounce. I knew better, somehow, than to not speak first. We sat in silence for a while, until he realized his power play was not going the way he wanted. Drumming his fingers on the metal table between us, he looked me up and down.

"You were a student at CCC, were you not?"

"Yup," I nodded in slow motion. "Graduated last year."

"But you hung around?" Hamill was trying to make it seem like I should be embarrassed by the fact.

"I got a job in the communications department."

"And the mutants who organized the protest. You really didn't know any of 'em?" He sounded like anything I said would be perceived as a lie.

"Not personally. It's a small campus, I've seen them around. There was a flyer in my office, I showed up in support, and when some idiots started throwing rocks, shit flew off the handle. It's as simple as that," I tried not to raise my voice but I couldn't suppress the feeling of fire rising up my throat. The organizers were a couple of sophomores, loud but otherwise harmless. I didn't even know what their powers were.

"There's nothing simple about this," Hamill tensed up, sensing my irritation. "People were hurt. Innocent people."

"Yeah, I know. I didn't just paint these bruises on," I jabbed my finger at my black eye. "Oh, but when you say innocent you're only referring to the normal people, right?"

He sighed shakily and leaned forward as though he hadn't quite finished sizing me up yet.

"Kid, you're not an affiliated mutant, nor are you a registered super. By law, you had no right to use your powers in public. You're lucky they're not sending you to the Negative Zone."

I remained silent. Hamill knew as well as I that I wasn't important enough for a prison like the Negative Zone. It was only recently that Reed Richards and Tony Stark publicly announced its creation, with the purpose of housing supers who refused to register. It put everyone with any sort of power on edge. Not that everyone with powers was a hero or a villain, of course.

"What's your deal, anyway?" He waved a lazy finger at my tied hands. "You got force fields or something?"

"Sort of. I can externally project and amplify my brain's electromagnetic field to produce solid energy forms," I said. I only knew all of that because when I was sixteen my parents forced me to see a specialist who "diagnosed" my case of mutant-itis. I was pleased that the scientific jargon left Hamill with a blank look of stupidity.

"So, force fields," He summarized.

"…Yeah." There was more to it, though. I could sense the buzzing of the weak waves being emitted from his own small mind. I could even feel the other cops in the building and the other prisoner, like static spots in my head. He didn't have to know that. I could tune them out easily enough.

"You know what happens now, punk?"

"It's Maggie, actually."

"You'll be picked up in the morning by Sentinel Services and taken to a detention center where you will await trial. With all the mutants in your situation, though, it could take years. You could help yourself right now by telling us about these other mutants. Names, relationships, favorite hangout spots, anything."

"I told you, I don't know anything about them," My hands balled into fists. He didn't like that one bit.

"Then I hope you enjoy your stay, Maggie," He said, standing up.

Back to the depressing limbo of my lonely cell. I was surprised when the mutation-inhibiting ties were taken off before letting me loose, but really there was no way to escape even with full use of my "force fields". They weren't exactly Thor's Hammer. There weren't even security cameras, as far as I could tell. Why waste the money for such a temporary prison? It was apparent that my captors knew an escape attempt would be futile for many reasons. Where would I go? Who would I go to? My own parents kicked me out the second I turned eighteen, paying for an apartment to appease their mutant-phobic guilt. The few friends I had didn't like me well enough to house a fugitive. The X-Men…well, I'd given up hope that I'd be scooped up by them a long time ago. Xavier's school simply didn't have the capacity for all the wayward mutant kids in the world.

More time passed in silence. I pressed my head against the cool wall, on the other side of which I knew resided my unwitting brother in crime. His inquisition was surely done by now, and we were both floating on the same slowly sinking boat.

Just when I was beginning to wonder if there was a way to speak to him, a drastic change in the wall's temperature sent me jumping back off my bed, startled. The once icy steel had turned burning hot in a matter of seconds. At first I thought it was just a torture feature set in place by the Westminster County Jail, but a small burning hole appeared where my forehead had just been. The oozing metal cooled and a blue eye appeared in the whole. In a moment, it was replaced with a mouth.

"Oi, get in closer so I don't have to shout," blondie called. I obeyed and put my ear closer to the hole. "Name's Jamie, by the way."

"Maggie," I said. "Hey."

"Hey. You ready to bust out, or what?"

"What?"

"I'd seriously consider the first option if I were you. These idiots have a shite security system, and, as I've already proven, the walls weren't built to hold me. I can get you out, if you promise to help me."

"That's…stupid! They'll just catch us again and we'll be in even more trouble," I whispered.

"We're in about as much trouble as we can get. They caught us off guard last time, but we have the upper hand. I've seen what you can do."

"Maybe you missed the part where I got tranquilized within the first five minutes of the riot."

"That was then. This is now."

What, honestly, did I have to lose? I didn't have to trust him to know we wanted the same thing.

"Alright. I'm in. If you get me killed I'll be really pissed, though," I snorted.

"Deal. Here's the plan. Step one, I'm coming in."

I instinctively stepped back just as the burning hole melted into a larger shape. It was eventually big enough for Jamie to begin to squeeze through, but it was a little tight so I had to pull on his arms to get him all the way in. We fell into a heap on my bed.

"Cheers," he said, straightening up. "It takes a lot of energy to heat up, so I have to do as little as I can at a time. That one wiped me out big time, so here's where you come in. If I make a little hole to the outside, can you use your force-thingy to widen the opening?"

"I dunno," I stood up next to him, examining the unscathed wall like it was an empty canvas. "I'm not really that good at using it to move other objects."

"Even if our livelihoods depend on it?"

I sighed.

"Worth a shot."

He gestured at me to stand back, which I didn't really appreciate. I watched as he held out his hands in front of him, which were quickly turning a glowing red along with the rest of his body. I could feel the heat emanating from him even from feet away. His shirt even began to singe. He sank an iron-hot fist onto the fresh bit of wall, and within moments the metal began to crease at his will. Soon, it broke, and the night air outside could be felt.

"Your turn," Jamie panted, returning to a normal color.

I took a breath and focused my energy at the little opening he'd just made. Flickering light filled the gap, but I couldn't solidify it. It kept going out like a flame.

"Shit," I said, starting to panic.

"Just breathe…and don't think about those voices coming down the hall."

I could hear them too. We didn't have long. With a jolt, I manifested enough of the waves to make a hard surface inside the hole. I pushed as hard as I could until the metal gave way and the hole expanded under the pressure.

"Excellent!" Jamie said excitedly, that's gonna have to be good enough. We've got company. Man, I've always wanted to say that line."

Without warning he shoved me at the hole where I fell through onto damp grass. I could hear my cell door opening on the other side and shouts fill the room. Jamie was right behind me.

"Now we run?" He suggested, pulling me to my feet. I looked back in time to see two guns pointed at us. I hadn't even heard the order to fire at will, but they weren't playing around. A bang sounded all too fast, and I swiped upwards, pushing Jamie behind me. A flash of purplish knocked the rubber bullet backwards.

"I have a better idea," I said. There was something I'd always wanted to try. Taking a deep breath, I expelled an orb that burst out from my cranium and surrounded the two of us in a perfect sphere.

"Nice," He noted. It was purely luck that a vast expanse of trees and darkness awaited us. We began to roll; the plinks of more bullets and the cry of alarms acting as fanfare for our great escape.

I imagined we looked miraculous, spinning out of control in a hamster-ball of energy, like the forest was a giant pinball machine. I wouldn't be able to hold it for long, but in that moment I was almighty. Uncanny, even. I felt like a kid again, dressed up in her cape and tights at playtime, shouting with glee as I wreaked havoc on the world around me. I didn't know what was to come, and I didn't care. For once in my life, I felt genuinely super.