Where on Earth has Alice Tyler been? Well, it's complicated.

Her first semester at Xavier's had been more than she had expected, both in nice and not-so-nice ways. She had made some new friends, faced a couple of silly bullies, and developed a healthy amount of crushes. She had participated in the usual teenage shenanigans and acclimated to the dorm life pretty well, lucking out in the roommate department. But along with all of this, homesickness had also played a large part.

She missed her mother with her fabulous Italian cooking and surprise shopping sprees. She missed her kittens, Pepper and Minty. She missed her old friends, even the ones who had difficulty accepting her mutation. She missed the dazzling atmosphere of San Francisco, the way the city lights looked like watery stars in the dead of night. She missed the friendliness of the lovely grandmother who ran the secondhand book store in her suburban neighborhood.

She missed being the Alice Tyler she used to know, the one who didn't have to worry about accidentally hurting other people. The one who didn't have to face shock and derision when explaining her mutation. The one who didn't have to care so much about anything, really, when life had been simple. Just simple.

But life in New York City, at Xavier's...was complicated. Rough, confusing. Sometimes downright hard. She had lived her entire life in San Francisco and learning to live in another alien city was difficult. The bustle and chaos of The Big Apple was worlds apart from the energy of the Bay Area. Mutant and baseline human relations were insane. There was much violence perpetrated by mutants, as well as against them.

Things went downhill after Gina Shuyler was viciously beaten by rogue cops. The students at Xavier's were furious and divided, and Alice found she could not understand or cope with what was going on. She was so new to the world of mutant politics and so used to the protective little bubble San Francisco had afforded her, she could not understand all of the aggressive tension and trouble brewing in the city. And it made her squirm to hear some of the students speak of retaliation...bloodthirsty retaliation.

And then, one chilly winter evening, Alice found herself surrounded by three drunken men with ill intentions and one powerful mutant hidden within the darkness. The events of that night were still blurry, her mind's attempt at bludgeoning the trauma, but she could still fit the hazy pieces together to form a murky memory.
The smell of hard whisky, bruised wrists, a torn scarf, blood that was not her own. A steel gun glistening in the dim fluorescent glow of a dying streetlight.
The shadowy, hooded figure had saved her, that's all she remembered before blacking out and waking up in the mansion.

That was all enough to send her running back home. That week she packed up all of her boxes, said goodbye to no one, and hightailed it back to San Fran.

___________________

((The traumatic night in question took place here.))

Her mother had not been entirely pleased with the sudden developments. While Celia Tyler was doing her best to help her daughter, she still had unresolved feelings regarding the dangerous nature of Alice's mutation, along with disappointment that things had not worked out at Xavier's like it had for Toby.

She feared Alice might resent her for not being supportive after the initial manifestation of her mutation. She could not blame her, really. She had failed as a mother during that time, and she wanted to make it up to her young daughter, which meant accepting her back home with open, loving arms, even if Alice offered no solid explanations as to why she had decided to return. Celia did not want to repeat the mistakes she had made with Toby.

Alice's parents considered sending her back to public school, but ultimately found that it might be too taxing on the fifteen-year-old to re-acclimate herself in the middle of the school year. Eventually the family decided homeschooling for second semester would be best. Alice took online classes and was occasionally tutored by her mother.

The following months went by slowly. Studying was a bore, and her old interests no longer seemed to entice her anymore. She spent her free time staring at the television. She found that her cursed mutation was as uncontrollable as ever, sometimes manifesting when she had nightmares, which were quite frequent. The first time the young mutant had woken up screaming, her mother had run frantically into her room, only to run back out once she began choking on the awful chlorine. It had taken Alice nearly an hour to calm herself down and shut down her mutation. And she felt so guilty for harming her mother, even if Celia claimed it was alright, that it was just an accident. The young mutant was tired of causing accidents.

The night terrors and nightmares did not go away, and the relationship between mother and daughter began to deteriorate once again due to the stress. Alice was even forced see a therapist once a week, but that didn't stop the nighttime madness.

It was her fault, and she knew it. The problem wouldn't go away if she tried to repress it, but whenever Margaret, her therapist, asked her what happened in her dreams...she could not speak the truth.

"I...I don't remember. Everything was so hazy..."

"Can you remember anything at all? Even a vague piece? Because these dreams appear to be quite difficult to manage. I think it would help to identify what about them causes so much distress."

It's because...of that night...

"Uh...I really can't remember anything about it. I-I'll try to write about it next time, right after I wake up. Like you suggested."

"Well, you did say that last week as well, dear... But okay. We'll touch back on this next week. How is it at home? Things with your mom any better?"

"Yeah..."

It was June 1st, the day before Toby was coming home to visit. Alice hadn't seen him since Christmas. She had only left him a brief text message to let him know she was going back home, along with vague, clipped answers when he called her and frantically asked her to explain herself. She was excited to see him, but she was dreading the reunion as well. He was going to want more information from her than she had supplied earlier that year. He was also going to want an explanation as to why she had not answered any of his calls afterwards...

The fifteen-year-old went to sleep uneasy, covers pulled over her head and window ajar to let in the warm summer breeze. (Also a precaution in case she had more mutation-triggering nightmares.)

It took a while, but eventually sleep overtook her, dragging her into its blackened grasp.

. . . . .

Her breathing was shallow and erratic, chest feeling unbearably tight and weighed down. She saw nothing at first, nothing but pitch black, but her senses eventually began to pick up her environment.

The first was smell. The pungent odors of sweat and alcohol, along with the smog lining the city streets. The combination of scents left a bitter, awful taste on her tongue.

Suddenly, a flicking light assaulted her eyes, and she had to blink back tears as her pupils adjusted themselves. She saw broken, cracked pavement and damaged streetlights. The brick wall buildings around her were shrouded in shadows. It seemed as though everything was falling apart.

Then she felt a pain in her forearm, as though something was crushing it. She looked down and saw a huge hand curled around her thin arm like a pincer, her skin red and raw around his fingers. A man had her trapped in his vice grip, a gun in his other hand. She gasped and tried desperately to pull away, but her attempts were laughable compared to his strength.

The metallic gun was pointed at a hooded figure blending in with the darkness around him, beneath the looming shadow of a deteriorating apartment complex. She noticed men on the ground, limbs twisted and faces frozen in eternal expressions of fear and pain. There was dark, fresh blood staining her sweater, the droplets growing larger as they absorbed into the fabric. She tried to scream, but it was as if her vocal cords were twisted around themselves, choking out any sound she attempted to make.

The next moments went by rapidly: The mysterious figure grabbed the gunman's arm. The weapon went off with a thunderous, deafening bang. She managed to emit a pitiful, strangled sound, tears pouring down her cheeks and hands shaking violently with fear. It was only when the gunman sank to his knees that she could finally scream.

"Toby...I think it would be best if you waited until morning to see her. She's had a few rough nights this week and needs all the sleep she can get," Celia murmured, forehead creased with concern.

"What do you mean 'rough nights?'"

"She's, ah, been having some nightmares. Hasn't she told you?"

"She hasn't answered any of my calls," Toby replied, frowning, "When did she start having these nightmares?"

"Honestly? Ever since she--"

"Aaaaagh!"

"Wait! Don't--"

But Toby was already sprinting up the stairs to Alice's room, smoke emanating from his clenched fists and eyes burning a fierce orange. He left a singed handprint on the door as he burst in.

She was on the bed with her knees drawn up, cradling her tear-stained face with sweaty palms. Soft, pathetic sobs escaped her lips. Her brother looked at her with shock for a split second, then quickly scanned her and her surroundings to make sure she was alright, unharmed. What could cause her to shriek that way? Somehow, he could not believe that a simple nightmare could have caused it. The terror in her voice just seemed so real, too real.

Toby sat down next to his little sister, placing a worried hand on her t-shirt clad shoulder. Instinctively, the brunette leaned into his comforting side and continued to quietly weep and sigh into her palms. She was so tired of the same images and pseudo-memories assaulting her. Dream and reality had melded, and she found she could no longer distinguish what had really happened and what her mind had corrupted and warped. It didn't really matter in the long run, though. Her heart still beat madly, fingers still trembled uncontrollably, when she awoke.

"The...the man was shot. He was shot but he didn't die. There was b-blood on my clothes. I was next. I-I mean, I thought I was going to die next. But he rescued me...I-I woke up at the mansion." Her words were interrupted by scattered sobs and spasms, but she managed to speak what mattered clearly enough. "I thought it had a-all been a horrible n-nightmare...b-but there was still blood e-everywhere."

Her breathing hitched, and she found another wave of tears spring from the corners of her dark chocolate eyes.

"I-I'm sorry I n-never--" another sob forced its way through her ribcage, "--told you. I-I haven't told a-anyone. I just wa-want these b-bad dreams to g-go away."

Alice couldn't bring herself to speak after that, and her older brother required no more information, at least not yet. He let her soak through his flannel shirt until she calmed down, and then coaxed her back to sleep. It wasn't a difficult task. The screaming and crying had exhausted her so that she fell into a deep slumber right away. And thankfully, she didn't dream.

Alice told all the next day. She had to.

Her mother was shocked and upset to say the least, and spent a good thirty minutes cursing the day she had ever sent her daughter to New York City. She tried to include the school in her ranting, but Toby immediately refuted her and countered with information on all of the good Xavier's had done for its students. But eventually they realized it did not matter who was to blame for what, at least not at that moment. Alice was at the top of their list of priorities, and they had to figure out how to help her best.

Alice's mother wanted to keep her at home, where she could watch and protect her at all times, no matter how overbearing.

Her father was concerned that her control over her mutation was dwindling. He thought that some solution to the issue should be found before she seriously hurt herself or others. He did not believe things were working out or would work out with the current arrangements.

Her brother thought--nay, he knew--that taking Alice back to Xavier's would be best. The mansion staff could protect her from any danger and teach her how to better handle her mutation. And the guidance counselor could certainly help her through her post-traumatic stress as well.

Ultimately, it was Celia versus Toby, with Greg torn between protecting his daughter and trusting someone else to protect her. When they (finally) turned to her for input, she had already come to a decision.

"What happened in New York was...my fault. It's plain and simple. I was stupid. I was somewhere I shouldn't have been, all alone. And I should've known better, and I do now," she paused to take in a deep breath, "It was my fault for leaving the school so suddenly and worrying everyone. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for lying. I..." She realized she was beginning to ramble and cut herself off.

"What I'm trying to say is...I think I need to go back to Xavier's. I can't deal with all of this mutation stuff alone. And I'll have Toby there, at least. I won't make the same mistakes as last time, I promise." The last bit was aimed especially at her mother, whose worried, conflicted expression filled Alice's heart with guilt.

"Okay."