More Than Meets the Eye

(A.N. As you might pick up, in my world, Scott and Emma are together in my world. I just like the creative potential of Emma better)

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Hank let out a low whistle. Bellwood was the state-administered psychiatric institution, usually reserved for hopeless cases and those considered dangerous. "She was a patient?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah. But I don't think she was supposed to be. I think she's a mutant, a telepath, like the Professor." He glanced up. "Speaking of which, he's gonna get suspicious soon."

"Very true. We'd best join them," Hank agreed.

By the time they had slipped into the sitting room, everyone else had found seats, and Hank took up his former position, leaning on the windowsill. Scott went to sit with Emma, who had just flounced into the room.

Their newcomer was sitting in a chair at the Professor's side, her head down. She was young, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. Pretty dark brown hair reached past her shoulders. Her clothes were very dated, and looked rather worn, her sweater faded and her jeans frayed at the hem. Guessing from earlier, she was only five foot four or so, and of slight build. As the room settled she sat rather stiffly, twisting her hands in her lap. He watched the Professor lean over, say a few words, his large hand resting on her wrist, and noted that at his touch, she seemed to relax slightly.

"Everyone, I would like you to meet Faith Delacoeur. She's going to be moving to the mansion," Xavier said simply as way of introduction. "As I'm sure you've all noticed, Faith is profoundly blind, and has been since birth, so I would ask that everyone go out of their way to help her settle in. This includes not moving furniture any more than necessary and warning her of any impending danger."

"Since this is not a school for the blind," Emma began coldly, "can we assume there is SOME reason why she is here?"

Hank sighed. Emma was, at best, haughty and unthinking. At worst, she was just a cold bitch.

Xavier raised one eyebrow. "Of course. Faith is joining us because it has recently been discovered that she is an empath, with some telepathic abilites."

"She just developed her powers? Or just no one knew till now?" Logan asked abruptly.

Xavier smiled patiently. "It seems likely that Faith's powers developed when she was a child. Unfortunately, they were not recognized for many, many years."

"Meaning?" Logan pressed.

"Meaning, they thought I was nuts and threw me in the looney bin," the young woman - Faith, Hank reminded himself - interrupted quietly. She a very sweet,clear, soprano voice, with just the hint of an accent that Hank couldn't place.

"You were in an asylum?" Emma said, contempt dripping from her voice.

Faith frowned. "That's what they do when you hear voices no one else hears," she explained.

"Something about Faith's telepathy makes her difficult to trace using Cerebro," Xavier conitnued. "I did not even know of her situation until a colleague at Bellwood Hospital contacted me." He gave everyone a stern look. "I assure you, the decision to place Faith there was a grave mistake. She is not now, nor has she ever been psychologically unsound."

"How the hell's she gonna fit in around here, then?" Logan muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Hank hastily coughed to cover his laugh.

"Well, it's wonderful to have you here," Storm said warmly, coming forward to squeeze the younger girl's hand. "Xavier's has always been a haven for any mutant. We're happy to be here for you."

The younger girl smiled, and Hank noted how it lit up her whole face. "Thank you very much, Miss...?"

"Ororo Munroe," Storm answered. "But you can call me Storm."

"Of course.I forgot myself. Perhaps it would be best to introduce everyone," Xavier said. He went around the room, introducing names and offering a few words about each teacher as they greeted Faith. Logan offered only a gruff 'Hey' from his place at the window before the Professor turned to Hank.

"And of course, you've met Dr. Hank McCoy," Xavier said.

"Doctor?" she interrupted sharply.

"Indeed," Hank said, coming forward. "I hold a doctorate in biochemistry and genetics, as well as an MD."

"Hank is our school physician," Xavier added. "On that note, Hank, I know it is late tonight, but you do need to schedule a physical for Faith. I have her medical records from Bellwood with me, but given that they managed to overlook her being a mutant, I have my doubts about the competency of their medical staff."

"As do I, Professor," Hank agreed. "Actually, unless you have more to do here, I could get this out of the way tonight. It won't take long."

"Excellent. Unless anyone else has any questions or concerns?" The Professor looked around. "Obviously not. In that case, Hank, I will leave her in your capable hands. Perhaps you can show her to the empty room in the faculty wing once you're finished."

"I would be happy to. If you'll just accompany me Miss Delacoeur?" Hank said, offering his hand.

:I - I don't think a physical is necessary. I did just come from a hospital," she said quickly.

Xavier patted her hand. "It is simply a matter of protocol, Faith. We like to have baseline normals to compare against at a later date, if need be."

Hank slipped his hand under her elbow, helping her rise. "It's all very routine, Miss Delacoeur, nothing to worry about." He took the file the Professor offered in his free hand. "Best to get it out of the way now."

Xavier nodded. "Faith, I think that will be enough for tonight. I will see you again tomorrow morning for your first lesson."

She nodded distractedly in agreement, and allowed Hank to carefully guide her from the room and out to the elevators which led to the lower levels of the mansion and the infirmary. As he walked, Hank explained the school, offering advice on potential pitfalls.

"If I were you, I would avoid the stairs anytime around seven am, noon, or four o'clock," he advised sagely. "Our students are generally very good, but they can occasionally be dangerous when in a pack."

"I'll remember that," she said tightly as he led her into the infirmary, the lights snapping on automatically. "Is this a lab?"

"No, this is the infirmary," Hank explained. "It's rather cluttered, so if you need to be down here, I'd suggest having someone accompany you, or stick to the wall until you find me. My office is connected to this room, as is my lab, although that is locked at all times." He led her up to an examining table, placing her hand against it. "Shoes off, and the cardigan as well, please. I think we'll dispense with the gown for today," he added with a grin, turning away to pull an instrument tray over. "It'll take me a few minutes to gather everything, so if you just want to climb up on the bed and relax, I'll be right with you."

He looked over at her, still standing stock-still by the bed, uncertainty and... was that fear on her face?

"Do you need a hand getting up?" he prompted.

Her head snapped around at his voice. "This....this is a waste of time," she stammered.

He smiled. "Well, the time is mine to waste, and it really is protocol," he said gently. "It'll only take a minute." He took a step toward her.

She stepped back quickly. "No... no, I don't think I want to," she said. "It's just stupid. I'm fine."

He stopped moving toward her, his brow furrowing. Was she afraid of him? "Miss Delacoeur, if you'd rather a different doctor..."

"Don't touch me! I don't need a physical!" she suddenly exclaimed, fear making her words sharp. She started backing away.

She's scared of doctors, he realized. "Faith... Faith, you need to stop moving," he said, switching to her first name, hoping to defuse the situation. "You're going to run into something and hurt yourself."

"I don't need a physical," she repeated.

"Fine, we won't do a physical. We'll just sit and talk. But you need to stop moving," Hank repeated.

"I want to leave," she said stubbornly. "I'm leaving." She turned away.

"Faith, watch out!" His warning was a second too late, and she tripped over a tray of glassware that had been set by a sink, sending it and herself crashing to the ground.

"Don't move!" he barked as he closed the distance between them. "The floor is covered in broken glass! You'll hurt yourself!"

In one smooth motion he stepped into the mess, scooped her up, and crossed back to set her on the bed. "Stay!" he said firmly. "I need to clean that up."

Fetching a broom and dustpan, he quickly swept the pile of glass up, depositing it all in a large sharps container. Making a mental note to vacuum to get any last shards, he turned back to his reluctant patient.

She was sitting exactly as he had left her, head down, a curtain of brown hair hiding her face. He could see her small frame trembling, and inwardly he cursed himself. She was already afraid. He didn't need to go and bark at her.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be sharp. You just frightened me. Are you hurt?" he said as gently as he could, crossing back to stand beside her. Mutely she held out her hands, the palms and backs of them crisscrossed with blood.

Hank took on hand and carefully examined it, noting the glass shards in the wounds. "I'll need to clean and bandage these. Is that okay?"

A silent nod, a sharp contrast to the fear-inspired bravado of a few minutes earlier.

"Just wait while I get some supplies," he said.

Another nod.

Frowning and thinking as he gathered his supplies, Hank began to wonder about Bellwood. He had heard stories about the place, but had assumed that they were nothing more than a few isolated incidents blown out of proportion. However, Faith's reaction seemed to suggest otherwise. Or, she could just be afraid of doctors, his rational mind reminded him as he settled his supplies on one equipment tray while donning gloves and draping the other in a sterile sheet.

"Let's have a look," he said kindly, gently taking her hand. "Not too deep, but there is a fair bit of glass. I think I'll just use a topical anesthetic, to minimize the discomfort, and then I can clean and bandage them." Another nod.

Hank started working on her hand, swabbing the whole area with lidocaine, holding her wrist firmly as she flinched from the sting of the anesthetic in her wounds. He heard a soft whisper.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, Dr. McCoy," she whispered again. "I-I didn't mean to break your things."

He used one finger to tip her chin up, pushing the hair back away from her face. "No apology is necessary," he told her seriously. "I'm just glad you weren't more seriously injured. You really shouldn't move around down here without a guide."

"Yes, Dr. McCoy," she said, still meek.

"And it's Hank," he corrected. "Only the students call me Dr. McCoy. Makes me feel like I should have a tricorder."

There it was. The ghost of a smile playing around her lips.

Hank grinned. "Oh, thank you for getting the obscure reference and not making me feel even older than I am," he quipped, picking up a set of forceps and beginning to carefully remove shards of glass from one palm. She flinched again as he dug one large piece out. "I apologize, but given the surface area, I'm reluctant to use a local. I suspect you might need the use of your hands more than most."

She shrugged. "I'm fine," she muttered.

He studied her face. "Care to tell me what that was about?" he asked, adopting the same gentle tone which had prompted more than one reluctant student to pour out their woes.

Another shrug.

"Do you not like doctors?" he pressed.

She frowned. "Sort of. Not really. I mean, yeah, I guess."

He raised an eyebrow. "I have never heard anyone give such a long reply to a yes or no question, and yet I'm still not sure what the answer is." He waited a few minutes. "You don't like doctors," he stated flatly.

"It's nothing personal," she said quietly. "I just.... I don't know..."

"I take no offense, my dear," he said kindly.

"You probably think it's stupid," she muttered.

"Ah, to the contrary," he said. "No fear is stupid to the one afflicted by it. I myself have an intense hatred of caterpillars."

She smiled. "You're teasing me."

"Indeed, I am not," he protested. "Even one of the creepy crawly little monsters will cause me to scream like a girl."

She laughed, and Hank smiled. He had always prided himself on his bedside manner and ability to put patients at ease. "This might sting," he warned, cleaning her hand with an antiseptic. "Fear of doctors is likely one of the most common social fears in the human population today," he said as he worked. "Of course, usually that fear or discomfort is the result of experiential trauma rather than simply an innate fear." He watched her for a reaction as he wrapped one hand. "After all, doctors are supposed to help, and instinct should not have us fearing that which can help us."

She said nothing, though her frown deepened. He released her hand and reached for the other.

"Did something happen to you which you'd like to share with me?" he prodded carefully.

She shook her head. "No," she answered shortly.

Hank applied lidocaine to the other hand, which had mercifully less glass in it. "No, nothing happened, or no, you don't want to talk about it?"

She fell silent again. "Nothing happened," she said flatly.

He started cleaning her hand. "Well, if you do ever remember anything that you'd like to talk about, I'd be happy to listen," he said. "How long were you at Bellwood?"

"Eight years," she answered. "I was involuntarily committed when I was eighteen."

Which made her twenty-six. She looked younger. "And your physician there?"

Her face clouded. "Dr. Curtis."

He regarded her as he disinfected the wounds and started bandaging her hand. Was her reaction due to a dislike of doctors as a whole, or was it indicative of a bad past with that doctor? As much as he wanted to press on, her demeanour suggested she would shut down if he did - and he still needed to coax her into a physical.

"Those will need to be changed in a day or so," he told her as he taped the last piece of gauze down. "They'll likely be sore when the lidocaine wears off, but if they become very painful, find me so I can check for infection." He held her wrist for one moment longer. "If you can't bring yourself to come down here, then send someone to find me."

She nodded mutely.

He released her. "Now, Faith, we still have the physical to complete," he said carefully, ready to grab her if she tried to bolt. "But it won't take long, and it won't hurt. It's all very routine."

Her face blanched, her breathing shorter and shallower, and he could see her hands begin to tremble. She started to shake her head. "Please.... please, Hank, I don't want to. I just want to go now."

Something tugged at his heart as she pleaded. She was obviously terrified, an edge of panic creeping into those lovely blue eyes. "Faith, I promise you, it won't hurt," he consoled. "It isn't even invasive. Just some vitals, a review of your chart, and a blood test." She flinched when he reached out to lay one large hand on her shoulder, but he held his hand there, not restraining, just reassuring. "You can trust me," he said in a low, even voice, hoping to avoid the full-blown panic attack she was working up to.

Hank watched as she battled with her fight or flight instinct. With gentle pressure, his free hand coming up to cradle her head, he urged her to lay back on the bed. "Just lean back here for a minute, my dear. You look like you're going to faint. Close your eyes and take deep breaths."

Grabbing the pillow off of a neighbouring examination bed, he carefully put it under her feet, removing the worn black loafers she was wearing and setting them on the end of the bed. "That's it. Deep breaths. In through your nose, out through your mouth."

One hand continued to rest heavily on her shoulder, as the other snagged his stethoscope from the instrument tray and awkwardly fixed it in his ears. "Faith, I'm just quickly going to listen to your heart and lungs," he explained, leaning forward to place the stethoscope against her chest, listening for abnormal heart sounds, then to the clear breath sounds.

Convinced she wasn't in danger of hyperventilating, he pulled his stethoscope off and slung it around his neck, then perched on the side of the bed. His hand moved from her shoulder to rest against her forehead, stroking back over her head, smoothing the dark brown hair, trying to decide how to proceed.

Slowly, her trembling subsided, her hands relaxing from tightly clenched fists. Her breathing slowed, and her eyes, shut tightly, fluttered open. One deep shuddering breath escaped her lungs, then another.

"That's better," Hank murmured. "Just focus on breathing. You're safe here, Faith, Nothing - and no one - will hurt you."

"I feel so stupid," she whispered, her voice nearly breaking.

"Don't," Hank told her. "It's okay. It's a phobia. We'll just learn to work around it, until we can help you come to terms with it."

"I just don't want to do this," she repeated.

"Okay," Hank said.

Faith's head snapped up. "Okay?" she repeated. "You mean, I don't have to?"

Hank covered her small hand, laying against the bed, with his, his thumb running over the back of her hand. "No. At least, not right now." He squeezed her fingers. "If we are to conquer this phobia, Faith, and I hope we can, we need to start by getting the instinctual part of your mind to understand it can trust me. And that means if you say no, then it's no. I'm not going to do anything to you without your permission."

She frowned, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. "So.... I could just leave?"

He rested the back of his fingers against her forehead. Her skin was still clammy, but her breathing was better and some colour was returning to her face. "If you want to, yes."

She sat up, swinging her feet of the edge of the bed. "But," he continued, "we need to arrange a schedule of appointments, to address this issue." She frowned at him again. "I am not sure what your plans are, Faith, but here, as part of this school, there is always the possibility that you will become injured, and I would rather not have to sedate you to treat you." He placed her shoes back in her hands. "We can meet tomorrow afternoon, around one, to discuss how that is going to proceed."

"Fine. Can I go now?" she said.

Hank reached out and easily lifted her from the bed, his large hands nearly spanning her waist. Placing one hand on her elbow, he started guiding her toward the door.

"Of course, if you decide you'd like to discuss it before then, any of the students can tell you where to find me," he added.

"And if hell freezes over, I'll be sure to let you know, too," she muttered.

He chuckled. "Then I will expect to see you tomorrow," he said. "Now, let's go find your room, and get you settled in. You'll need your sleep to deal with this place on a school day."