((OOC: Originally I had this outside the Sanctuary, which was silly of me really...I had the sudden urge for Twyla's situation to be radically different so I decided that one of her namesakes was going to find her...Writing all the back story has taken a crazy long time , so I hope that I'm happy with it in the end...I really should have posted the thing here in the first place...))

Today was the day, Twyla was going to do it. She was going to go to this mutant school and ask the questions she needed to ask. Her talk with David was only a few days earlier but she felt that she had gathered enough information to make the trip out to Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters sister school. She was nervous but she thought she was ready. She was almost excited. This was just the thing that could set her life back on track. She tucked the napkin into her pocket and checked herself in the mirror one last time before leaving her room.

Twyla walked out into the early morning sunlight. Using her right hand to shield her eyes from the sudden brightness she began walking towards the nearest bus stop. She didn’t notice the taxi pull up to the curb or the tall, elderly woman who got out of it. The woman noticed her though, and followed Twyla for a moment before making her presence known. “Twyla Blanch Ashby, if you don’t turn around right this minute and give your grandmother a hug--” She paused for dramatic effect and to give the girl a chance to register what was going on.

“Twyla Blanch Ashby, if you don’t turn around right this minute and give your grandmother a hug--” Twyla knew that voice anywhere and it made her stop in her tracks. Grandma Kleinsmith? Here? Outside the Sanctuary? This makes no sense. Twyla was confused but it didn’t stifle the feelings of excitement and pleasant surprise that she felt. She also had the sudden urge to cry. She ignored the latter urge and turned around to face her mother’s mother. Once she found the tell-tale salmon Columbia coat in the thin morning crowd Twyla forgot about the hows and whys and sprinted into the open arms of a tall, elderly woman with silvery-white hair tied back in a perfect bun who was wearing a pink Columbia jacket that was obviously worn and at odds with the crisp pant suit that she wore underneath it.

Blanch Kleinsmith was Twyla’s mother’s mother and she was the more liberal of Twyla’s grandmothers. Her son-in-law’s family tended to classify Blanch as an eccentric. This was something that the widow of Thomas Kleinsmith didn’t argue with. She knew that their conservative community thought her strange and she knew this was a perception that she couldn’t change so, as she would say, ‘why fret over them’? Blanch and her husband had started a dairy in their rural community right after they were married in 1954 and it had been successful for fifty-five years and counting. When Thomas died in 1998 Blanch had given her eldest son, Twyla’s Uncle Bill, the deed to the dairy on the condition that she would receive pension payments based on the success of the business. This pension, combined with a lifetime of thriftiness and a well planned retirement left Blanch enough money to live the rest of her life however she wished to. What Blanch did with the money was what lead to the accusations of her being an eccentric.

At age sixty four Blanch Kleinsmith had gotten it in her mind that she would like to travel before she became too old to do so. She ended up traveling all across the globe and for about three years her family only saw her at Christmas time. In more recent years she had taken to traveling to obscure tourist towns in the United States and then filling her small house with the trinkets she collected on her trips. It didn’t surprise Twyla in the least that Grandma Kleinsmith was in NYC but what surprised her about the situation was that she had found her. In a city of millions her very human grandmother had found her runaway granddaughter.

After a very long and very silent hug Blanch pulled away first and held Twyla in front of her so that she could get a better look at her. “You’re looking a little thin. I guess that’s to be expected. I’m sure you haven’t had much money for food.” Her long fingers swept a piece of Twyla’s brown hair out of her face and she smiled at her youngest granddaughter. Twyla wasn’t only Blanch’s youngest granddaughter, she was also her secret favorite. She loved all of her children and all of their children but she got along well with Twyla’s personality. This was, she assumed, because Twyla had yet to inherit their area’s knack for being hostile towards anything out of the ordinary. She was terrified of everything, but once she got over her fear she was much more accepting than any of her sisters or any of her female cousins, making Twyla the only possible favorite to an ‘eccentric’ like Blanch Kleinsmith.

After the initial euphoria wore off, Twyla was in shock. It made no sense to her that her seventy four year old grandmother had found her when the police could not. Her shock and confusion must have shown on her face, because before she could say anything Grandma Kleinsmith began speaking again in the fast, purposeful way of hers. “You probably have questions. I’ll answer them once we get back to the hotel, alright? Now, go and get your things. Yes, I know you’ve been staying here.” Twyla’s grandmother gestured to the Sanctuary’s golden doors. “I’m sure they’d prefer someone like...me to stay out here. Please be quick. I wanted to stop for coffee before we headed back and I’d hate to get caught in a New York line.”

Dutifully the teen walked back through the golden doors. It took her a moment of walking the halls to realize that she still hadn’t said one word to the only family she had seen in months. Mrs. Thomas Kleinsmith had that effect on most people. Twyla liked that about the matron of her mother’s family. She was all business and was never cowed or overly emotional. Twyla looked up to that, even if she didn’t live up to that example. It wouldn’t take her long to pack, she hadn’t really unpacked in the first place, she didn’t have much besides clothes with her. Pulling her green duffel out from under hear bed she began her task.

Blanch Kleinsmith was comfortable in unfamiliar places. Her extensive traveling made it second nature to navigate strange locations. New York City had always held a certain magic for the seventy four year old. She loved the old charm mixed with the modern–the ritzy mixed with the worst of mankind. It was the diversity that excited her. Diversity that she couldn’t find in a small town in Wisconsin. She was glad that her granddaughter had come to the Big Apple but she wished it had been under different circumstances. Blanch stood up straight and held her black purse close to her as she waited for her granddaughter to come out of the mutant homeless shelter. Blanch had always an open mind about mutant affairs. These feelings had become more extreme when she had come to the conclusion that her sweet Twyla was probably a mutant but she didn’t want to cause any discomfort for anyone by walking into a mutant-only homeless shelter. She’d let Twyla pack and take care of whatever she needed to in private so as not to cause a scene. Looking across the way at nothing in particular she silently wondered what kind of life Twyla had been living from the fall of 2008 up until now.

Before she finished packing Twyla decided to leave Meld a note. She was the only person in the Sanctuary she had ever interacted with and it was because of her that she wasn’t still walking the streets. Her penmanship had never been very good, but she hoped that it was legible. “Meld, This might be weird to hear (it’s weird for me) my grandmother has found me. I don’t know how or I’d tell you. I’m sure you wouldn’t be concerned either way but I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving this place. I have a few ideas of where I’ll end up from here. I just wanted to thank you for bringing me to Sanctuary. It’s an experience I needed. If you ever need someone with my special talents, let me know. My given name is Twyla, by the way. Best of luck and thank you again, for everything. Wallflower.” Twyla read aloud to herself. Before she left she would stick it under Meld’s door and hope that the woman received her message.

Walking back outside Twyla found the pink coat again, this time it was standing next to a taxi cab and one of it’s ratty arms was holding the door open for her. The woman that the coat belonged to smiled at her briefly before ushering Twyla into the vehicle. “You wouldn’t keep an old woman from her coffee, would you? Come on. Let’s go.” Blanch’s tone was not angry or harsh but a mixture of teasing and exasperation.

After a silent drive to the nearest hole-in-the-wall-café that was silent because the younger passenger was in shock and the elder had more important things than talking (like her coffee) on her mind and three cups of coffee (one for each passenger and for the taxi driver) and then another silent drive the pair arrived at the hotel in which Grandma Kleinsmith had a room. Once they made it to the room in particular Twyla seemed to snap out of her shock. “Grandma, it’s good to see you but why am I seeing you exactly? I mean--” Twyla was cut off when Blanch held up her hand. “I know what you mean, dear. I tend to talk in circles too, if you remember. It’s one of the wonderful traits that my genes and too much reading have instilled in you. Now, would you rather I told you the whole story--all at once or would you like to ask questions and I’ll answer each one specifically?”

Twyla thought about this for a moment. It would make more sense to start from the beginning and to hear about the events in chronological order. It was like a novel the best place to start is usually the beginning or you run the risk of people becoming confused and not liking your storyline. “Just tell me the whole thing please.” She replied, sitting down in the uncomfortable armchair that every hotel room always seems to have. Her grandmother looked pleased with this, she had always loved telling stories. She looked very much like a giant, preening bird when she adjusted her cream jacket after sitting down on the edge of the bed.

“When your mother called me in the middle of the night I knew in my heart that something had happened to my granddaughter.” Blanch touched her chest for emphasis. Whether or not she had actually had this feeling was debatable considering her love for theatrics when she told her stories. In any case, she went on. “I remember her frantically asking me if I had seen you. I think that maybe she was hoping that you were staying at my house and had forgotten to tell her about it. I asked her ‘Margaret, what’s going on?’ and she told me that you were missing and the police had marked you as a runaway. So of course I got off the phone with her and immediately put on appropriate clothing and then rushed down to the farm to see for myself what exactly the police were doing to find you. Your brother Nate felt terrible. He knew that he had helped you leave. No one could figure out how you got out of La Crosse though, obviously you didn’t have much cash with you. It took me a moment but then I remembered the train ticket that I had bought you as an early birthday present. I told the officers about this, of course but they called the train station and no one of their description of you had been in the station that day. Now, the next morning when they brought your picture down one of the clerks remembered your face but he said you weren’t wearing the clothing Nate had seen you leave in. We had no what idea your ticket number was yadda yadda yadda so it was basically impossible to trace where you had gone.” Blanch waved her hands in an annoyed manner.

“At this point everyone was very worried, even Miranda had come down to the farm to stay with you mother and you know how far along she was in November. She had her baby by the way. A little boy. Thomas James, seven pounds exactly and 20.5 inches long. Anyway, as you can see the entire family was worried sick about you but there wasn’t much we could do besides give your information to as many police officers and social service workers around the country as possible. This part of the story gets very boring and there’s just a lot of sitting around on our asses and trying to keep life going. Eventually it occurred to me, after there was no evidence of a bad boyfriend or anything like that that there had to be some reason that you had run away without telling ANY of your friends or family where you had gone. It hit me when I was watching the news and a story about a mutant rights group came on briefly. ‘What kind of secret could Twyla have that she couldn’t hide?’ I asked myself. The answer became obvious. You weren’t gay, a drug user, or pregnant because these are things that can be hidden or that can be changed. I realized that you must have been a mutant.” Blanch looked pointedly at her granddaughter.

“You could have told me, you know. I understand that out community isn’t very open-minded–the Mark Pronzinski incident and all that but you could have tried talking to someone about it.” Her features became harsh as she became more angry. “I know your parents aren’t ready to deal with the situation, but some of us are much more forgiving.” She paused for a moment. “Forgiving wasn’t the right word. How to put this.” She tapped a long finger on her chin for a moment before continuing. “You see, Twyla, when you get old you either become very conservative or you realize certain things are impossible to change. As I got older and traveled more I realized that life is life. It’s beautiful and it takes on many many forms. I’ve realized that although some ways of life may seem strange to me, they aren’t to the people living them.”

The elderly woman stood up suddenly and grasped her granddaughter’s hands. “I will always love you. That will never change–no matter what kind of genes you have. Do you understand me?” Her features were fierce with the depth of her devotion. To This Twyla nodded, she was shocked at her grandmother’s acceptance. “I understand why you left, but I wish you hadn’t.” She retreated back to the edge of the bed.

“Now, on with the story. When I came to this conclusion I decided to find you myself. I didn’t want to tell your parents. I knew that Margaret wouldn’t believe me and that she wasn’t ready to face that possibility. Before I left I made some phone calls to some contacts who knew a bit more about the mutant community than myself. From this information I made lists of areas you might have wandered to on both coasts. I started in California and eventually worked my way around the country. I had begun to feel that my task was pointless and that it was ridiculous to assume I could find one teenage girl in a sea of people. I struck gold when I met up with one of my friends from my travels in Boston. One of her children is also a mutant, you see and she had sent them to a school near New York City. This led me to believe that there must be a thriving mutant community in NYC and surely someone had seen you. My train came into New York a few days ago and I’ve been talking to people and searching local homeless shelters since my arrival. For ten dollars a very nice gentleman told me last night about the place you’ve been staying and I decided to check out this Sanctuary today. You know the rest of the story, of course.”

Twyla could tell that her mouth was hanging open. To anyone else this story would seem ridiculous but since it was bout Blanch Kleinsmith it was entirely possible that everything she had just said was plain fact. She didn’t have any questions, she could believe all of the story. Her grandmother was always good with people on some level and it stood to reason that she’d have many contacts considering her extensive travels across the United States. Twyla didn’t say anything, she was at a loss for words and not the first time that day. Her response to the whimsical story was to jump off the chair and hug her grandmother again. “I love you, Grandma B.” She finally said after they separated. Before Twyla moved out of her reach one of Blanch’s hands snaked out and grabbed the slip of paper she had spied in Twyla’s pocket. Glancing quickly at what it said she let a large smile spread across her face. “Now,” She said. “let’s see about getting you into that school.”