Eye of the Beholder

Author’s Notes: Thank you to Namibulla, blue_lioness, onewing, Arden Skysender and Wendy for your reviews. They mean the world to me. In this chapter, things get…interesting.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hank quickly glances at his watch, utters a mild expletive and then swiftly gathers his things before hurriedly going to pay his bill and leaving the diner. Once he steps out into the cold night air, he breathes a sigh of relief. That was way too close. If Amanda ever finds out that he was eavesdropping on her conversation she’d probably never speak to him again.

So, she’ll say yes if…no when he asks her out and suddenly there’s a spring in his step as he starts to whistle as he heads home. It’s not until he’s snuggled into his bed and thinking about how to ask her out that he realizes he forgot to do the grocery shopping.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, that was bizarre,” Doug mutters as the door closes behind the man they had been talking about.

“Do you think he heard you?” Amanda asks as she closes her drawing pad and puts it back in its satchel.

“How could he?” he questions back. “I was barely whispering. Do you think it was McCoy?”

“Oh, please,” she scoffs while they stand to go. “Last I heard, mutations can’t be turned on and off, they can only be controlled and in some cases even that’s not really possible. I’m sure if Hank could make the fur just disappear, he’d do it permanently. Now come on, I still need to get food.”

“Ok, ok, I’m coming,” he replies as he drapes an arm around her shoulders. “You going to make your famous Twinkie sundae?”

“You know it,” she laughs as wraps an arm around his waist before she turns somber. “Thanks for listening.”

“What are best friends for?” he asks as he gives her shoulders a squeeze. “You have those candy sprinkles this time don’t you?”

“I don’t remember,” she answers as they step into the cold night air. “We can pick some up at the store. I think I’m out of the dark chocolate sauce anyways.”

“Where we going to meet next week?” he questions while they head towards his car.

“I’m not sure I’m going to make it,” she replies. “I’m going up to visit Serena next weekend. I’ll try to make it back in time for dinner. Where do you want to meet?”

“Our usual place?” he inquires.

“Sounds good,” she responds. “I’ll call you if I can’t make it.”

“You better,” he playfully warns. “Or I won’t invite myself along the next time you go clothes shopping.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

About an hour later, she lets them into her apartment where the smell of the cleaners she used still hangs in the air. He helps her put away the groceries before she pulls out a couple of bowls to make their sundaes and he goes to find the movie. Within minutes they’re both happily watching the movie and eating enough sugar to send a five year old into orbit.

About half way through the movie, he glances over and sees that she’s curled up and sound asleep on the other end of the couch. He goes to retrieve a pillow and blanket from her bedroom and finds a letter sitting on her nightstand. Curiosity gets the better of him and he sneaks a peak at the note.

Dear Miss Simon,

Let me convey my most sincere congratulations to you for your successful defense of Miss Song. Lawyers such as yourself who would put their careers on the line to defend a known mutant are few and far in between. May your future endeavors be as successful as this case.

Your most humble servant,

Ambassador Henry McCoy

Doug chuckles as he puts the piece of paper back on her nightstand and heads back towards the family room. After making sure she’s snugly tucked in, he turns off the TV and lights and then lets himself out using the spare key to lock the door behind him. He drops the keys off in her mailbox, before heading home with the hope that maybe his best friend his finally found someone to love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She stands outside the door of the firm and sighs. The tension in her shoulders has been there since she got up and even thinking about food makes her already queasy stomach clench. It doesn’t help that she fell off the couch when she woke up from a nightmare at one in the morning. She hasn’t felt this nervous since the first time she went to court solo. She takes a deep steadying breath and opens the door and steps into the lobby where Betty is sitting reading the newspaper.

“Morning,” Amanda tries to greet as pleasantly as she can.

“Morning,” Betty replies without looking up. “I thought you went to the ball with Mr. Jones’s nephew.”

“I did,” Amanda responds, carefully keeping her voice neutral.

“Then you’ve got some splaining to do, Lucy,” Betty says in an absolutely horrible rendition of Ricky Ricardo as she holds up a center two page photo spread.

“Oh, dear lord,” Amanda moans as she looks at the picture in the dead center of Hank McCoy carrying her away from the dance floor.

“There are more on the other pages,” Betty tells her, trying not to smirk. “You care to share why the US Ambassador to the United Nations is carrying you around?”

“I twisted my ankle and he was helping me,” Amanda tells her truthfully as she takes the section of the newspaper Betty is holding up. “Are you done with this?”

“Yeah, you can have it,” Betty snickers. “So other than being swept off your feet by the Ambassador, how’d the ball go?”

“You don’t want to know,” Amanda answers.

“That bad?” Betty asks with an arched eyebrow.

“Let’s just say you’ll sleep a lot better at night never knowing the details,” Amanda sighs as she flips the page to see more photos and cringes. “Is Mr. Jones in?”

“Yeah, and he didn’t look happy,” Betty warns her.

“Peachy,” Amanda mutters. “I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.”

With that, she walks off towards her office, stopping in the break room long enough to drop off her lunch, hoping that she’ll be there to eat it. After arriving at her office and getting everything put away, she settles down in her desk chair and starts to boot up her computer. A shadow falls across her doorway causing her stomach to do a flip-flop and her heart starts to beat double time as Mr. Jones steps into her office, a frown on his face and a folded up section of newspaper in his hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good morning, Mary,” Hank greets in a less then pleased tone.

“Good morning, Ambassador,” Mary replies and gets a bit nervous at her boss’s unhappy face. “Is something wrong?”

“Last week I gave you a card to mail,” he says calmly. “What did you do with it?”

“I mailed it,” she answers.

“I talked to the person who was supposed to receive that card and she says she didn’t get it,” he tells her.

“This was the card to Miss Simon, right?” she asks.

“It was,” he confirms.

“I remember, you gave me the card, I dropped in the outgoing mail basket and then I went to go get your coffee,” she tells him.

“Show me exactly what you did that day,” he instructs.

“Yes, sir,” she says as she stands up and leads him to the other side of the work space where the overflowing outgoing mail basket sits. “I put the card right here and then I went for your coffee.”

“Was the basket as full then as it is now?” he asks

“I don’t remember, but it’s usually this way in the morning,” she answers.

He picks up the basket to look under it and a couple pieces of mail slide off the top and land on the cabinet. When he moves the basket to get a better look, another piece slides off and falls between the wall and the cabinet. Hank hands the basket to Mary, grabs hold of the cabinet and easily moves the heavy item away from the wall where several pieces of mail fall out at his feet. He bends over and picks them up, easily finding Amanda’s card among them.

“Mystery solved,” he sighs as he pushes the cabinet back in place. “See to it that we get a bigger basket.”

“Yes, sir,” she replies as he relieves her of her burden and puts it back where it belongs.

“I will be rather busy this morning on the phone,” he states as they head back towards his private office, taking Amanda’s card with him. “Please hold my calls unless it’s truly important.”

“Yes, sir,” she responds, feeling guilty about the card and heads towards the break room to get him his morning cup of coffee.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you busy?” Mr. Jones asks in a tone of voice that says she better not be.

“No, please come in,” Amanda invites as she logs into her computer and he shuts the door behind him.

“I was given the impression that we had a deal,” he starts as he takes a seat. “You go to the ball with my nephew and I get Mr. Steele to back off. Yesterday I got a call from my brother who was rather displeased when his son came home with half of his face bruised and swollen and stating that Ambassador McCoy attacked him. According to my nephew, you abandoned him part way through the festivities and then hooked up with McCoy. When James tried to persuade you to return to him, McCoy attacked him, punching him in the face and then taking off with you for a ménage à trois with McCoy and his date. This morning I get an even bigger shock when I see these.”

He nearly tears the newspaper as he opens it to reveal the pictures of Amanda and Hank.

“Now I did not get where I am today without realizing that there are two sides to every story,” he continues as he sits back in his chair and glares at her. “So please, tell me your version of what happened.”

She takes a deep breath, lets it out and then tells her side of the story. She leaves nothing out, including the fact that James is a mutant. When she’s done, he says nothing for several minutes and while that is a bit nerve wracking, she’s just glad she got through it without breaking down in tears.

“Had I been Mr. Steele, I would have said that you’re a delusional female who’s only looking for attention,” he finally states with a sigh. “Unfortunately, I know my nephew and I know that as a child, he was a spoiled rotten brat. His parents let him get away with murder, almost literally once. Yet, at family get-togethers, it didn’t matter how mad I was at him for something he did to my kids because he was just so darn likable. Now I know why.”

“The bad seed,” she mutters.

“A bit harsh, but accurate,” he concedes. “The problem is what do we do now? If he decides to press charges against Ambassador McCoy, there’s going to be Hell to pay.”

“No offence to Ambassador McCoy, but I’m a bit more worried about me,” she states. “Rapists are not known to take kindly to their target getting away. If he decides to come here, what is to stop him from getting my address from someone? Or even convincing me to go with him if he wants? The man is very dangerous, but I’m not sure what to do at this point.”

“A restraining order is going to be your best bet for now,” he tells her.

“A restraining order is only a piece of paper,” she points out. “It can’t physically stop him.”

“True, but it’s a start,” he says.

“But what good will it do me?” she questions. “If he does violate a restraining order and we take him to court, he’ll just walk up to the judge and convince him to toss out the case and then he’ll be within striking range of me. I got the feeling that he has only a limited range on his powers, but once you’re close enough, it’s over.”

“It’s that or you change your name and move, leaving no forwarding address,” he replies. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault James uses his powers for personal gain at the expense of others,” she says.

“No, but I am the one who asked you to be his date,” he reminds her.

“I didn’t have to say yes,” she points out. “I did it for personal gain and you did it because he’s your nephew. We can lament the about who’s to blame until the cows come home, but the fact of the matter is, that it’s truly James’s fault for using his powers irresponsibly.”

“True, but we’re still in a quandary of what to do,” he responds, sitting for a while, lost in thought. “I can’t think of anything right now except the restraining order. Do you want to go ahead with one?”

“Sure,” she sighs. “He’ll probably laugh when he gets it, but at least it’s a start.”

“Unless we can find a way to neutralize his powers, this is all we can do,” he states as he stands up. “I’ll get started on that restraining order. And don’t worry about Mr. Steele, I’ll have a talk with him.”

“Why?” she asks. “It’s not like I really kept up my end of the deal.”

“You said you would go to the ball with James,” he says as he stands with his hand on the knob to her office door. “It was never stipulated that you had to spend the entire evening in his company and it certainly wasn’t part of the deal that you had to sleep with him, much less let him rape you. You’ve faced tougher odds, Amanda, and came out a winner even though you were standing on your own. You’ll have us by your side this time. You will not face this alone.”

With that, he leaves her office and she just sits there, a stunned look on her face.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somewhere in San Francisco, a distinguished looking gentleman is having his morning cup of tea while reading the newspaper. He turns a page and is confronted with the image of Ambassador Hank McCoy carrying that mutant loving lawyer that was in the news a few weeks back. He scowls at the paper, wondering if there is any way to work this to his advantage just as shadow separates itself from the wall.

“I certainly hope you have something for me, Shade,” the man says in a cultured voice, not bothering to look up from his paper.

“Not on the project you assigned me, sir,” Shade replies as she solidifies into a dark haired, dark skinned woman. “Though I believe I have a solid lead.”

“You know how I dislike failure,” he growls menacingly, frowning at her.

“Yes, sir,” she says, cringing away from him. “I think I’m close.”

“Is that all you have for me?” he demands, in a dangerously calm voice.

“There are rumors of another mutant who has no great love for Sapiens,” she tells him and then points at the picture in the newspaper. “It seems he’s also gotten on the bad side of McCoy and that lawyer lady.”

“This interests me how?” he asks.

“He can control people to do what he wants them to do,” she answers. “He was going to rape the lawyer until McCoy interfered.”

“I like him already,” he purrs. “Do you have a name for me?”

“James Jones,” she says

“Where can I find him?” he inquires.

“Boston,” she replies.

“Very well,” he states, relaxing further into his seat. “I will assign someone to keeping an eye on him. I still want you to find her. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir, perfectly,” she responds, bowing her head in submission.

“Good, now get back to work,” he orders as he turns back to his paper.

“Yes, sir,” she says obediently as she fades back into the shadows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Amanda finally gets home, she’s dead tired and ready to drop. Between the nightmares featuring James, this morning’s stress of wondering she’d still have a job and working a full day, she’s completely drained. She stands, leaning against her closed door trying to get the energy up just to make it into the kitchen for dinner.

She drops her purse, shoes and briefcase off in the hall and then staggers into the kitchen. After retrieving something from the freezer and tossing it into the microwave, she finally notices that she has a message on her machine. She drags out a pen and a pad of paper before hitting the play button. She then listens to a message that warms her heart and just about gives her a heart attack at the same time.