Eye of the Beholder

Author’s Notes: Thank you blue_lioness, Namipulla, Arden and amh for your reviews. Please enjoy and please remember to review. It means the world to me.

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Hours later, Amanda and Hank are leaving the police station exhausted, hungry and too tired to speak. They get back in the car and leave without saying a word to each other, just drained from being in such a depressing place. It’s not until they’re on the highway does he hear her breathing pattern change and glances over at her just as the first fat tear rolls down her cheek.

He takes the next exit off of the highway and finds a deserted parking lot to stop in. As soon as the car is parked, he undoes his belt buckle and then undoes hers. He slides half way across the bench seat before pulling her towards him, holding her in his arms as for the second time in less than twenty-four hours she cries into his chest.

The Beast whimpers in sympathy again as Hank runs his fingers through her hair while she starts to curl up into a ball. He holds her closer, trying to form a type of shield with his body to protect her. They stay like that for some time and he’d gladly stay that way for the rest of whatever despite the kinks he’s getting in his back, but eventually the tears do come to an end. A short time later, she regains some of her composure and starts to pull away from him which he regretfully allows despite The Beast’s growls.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly, refusing to look at him.

“For what?” he asks, wondering when she let her hair down.

“I got you wet again,” she points out as she opens her purse and pulls out a pack of tissues.

“That’s alright, the shirt needed to be washed anyways,” he gently jokes and she smiles softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Emotionally, I’m drained,” she admits. “Physically, my head’s throbbing like there’s a drummer’s convention going on in there.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“There is no doubt in my mind that that man wanted to rape me,” she tells him a few moments later, staring out the front windshield. “At first I was terrified and then I thought about James and the fact that he was going to do the same thing, the only difference being I wouldn’t be able to say in a court of law that it was forced. That’s when I got angry and let that miserable jerk have it.”

“Where did you learn those moves you used?” he asks. “I must say I’m very impressed and a bit frightened that you were able to take down a man his size.”

“Miss Congeniality,” she tells him with a small snicker.

“Excuse me?”

“Didn’t you see that movie with Sandra Bullock?”

“No, I’m afraid I must have missed that one. Unfortunately, my life seldom allows me have the leisure time to go to the movies.”

“It’s a very cute movie. Sandra Bullock plays a cop who has to go undercover in a beauty pageant and for the talent section of the competition, she teaches everyone how to S.I.N.G.”

“And what exactly is S.I.N.G.?”

“Solar plexus, Instep, Nose and Groin,” she explains. “It’s a very cute movie, you should see it.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he chuckles as he cringes internally. “I have another question for you.”

“What’s that?” she asks.

“Why wouldn’t you look at me earlier?” he questions, managing to keep the hurt out of his voice.

“I learned some time ago that police, judges and juries do not like to watch overly emotional people, especially hysterical women,” she answers, staring down at her knees. “I can hold the emotions in for a while, but when the dam breaks, boy, does it break.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” he points out and she sighs as she lets her hair curtain her face from him by looking down further.

“As long as I feel slightly threatened, I can maintain the façade of being in control,” she quietly replies. “If I feel safe, then everything just comes apart. When I look at you, I feel safe. I would have been useless if I had looked at you, so I didn’t. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

“You feel safe around me?” he asks in surprise as he gently brushes her hair out of her face with one hand and even in the low light, he can see her blushing.

“Well, yeah,” she smiles shyly, glancing at him from the corner of her eye. “You are my knight in shining blue fur after all.”

“A duty I take with great honor,” he softly tells her.

His other hand comes under her chin and lifts her face to look at him and her stomach starts doing flip-flops. His breath brushes against her lips like a warm spring breeze and she can feel her heart pounding against her ribs. She breathes in his scent as his nose gentle bumps hers and her eyes close of their own accord.

BAM! BAM!! BAM!!!

“SWEET JESUS!” she shouts as she jumps and he snarls as a bright light is shown in their eyes.

“You can’t park here!” a rent a cop who looks barely old enough to drive hollers through the window at them. “Jeez, lady, that’s just gross.”

“What?” she shouts back, looking down at herself for whatever is wrong.

“Being with that…thing!” the kid yells and it takes quite a bit of will power for Hank not to leap out of the car and scare the kid right out of his acne. “What’s wrong with you that you have to go out with something like that?”

“That is none of your concern, young man, and I will thank you to mind your own business!” she snaps back, eyes narrowed as Hank moves back into his seat and straps himself in.

“Well, you still can’t park here!” the kid shouts again and Hank starts the engine as she slides back into her seat, fastening her own seatbelt a second later.

With a death grip on the steering wheel, Hank pulls out of the parking lot, fighting the urge to go back and chase the snot nosed whelp around the parking lot. A few minutes later, they’re back on the highway and they continue to drive on in a tense silence while Amanda casts nervous glances at him. He stares straight ahead, his hold on the wheel never loosening as The Beast screams and howls inside his head.

“Hank, are you alright?” she softly asks several minutes later and he’s startled out of his dark thoughts.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he sighs, seeing the strange look on her face and his shoulders slump.

“More worried than frightened,” she tells him. “You looked like you were about to rip that kid’s head off at one point.”

“I wouldn’t have done that,” he assures her. “Scaring him until he lost bowel control had crossed my mind, but not murder.”

“Good thing you didn’t do either,” she replies, trying to contain the smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t really feel like visiting another police station tonight. Plus I’d then have to bail you out and then having to explain to the media why you were arrested and then I would have to explain to my mother what I was doing in a car alone with you and then my dad would have gotten his shotgun and demanded to know what your intentions with me were. It wouldn’t have been pretty.”

By the time she finishes he’s chuckling and she grins at him as he relaxes.

“Thank you,” he says with a sigh. “One would think I’d be used to such treatment by now.”

“You should never get used to being treated so horribly,” she states firmly and he can see that her smile is gone. “If you do, it means you’ve stopped fighting for your rights.”

“You’re right,” he admits sadly. “But it seems that some days it’s just not worth getting out of bed.”

“Is today one of those days?” she asks and he can see her looking rather uncomfortable.

“No, of course not,” he assures her, noticing her relaxing with his words. “Not too completely change the subject, but I was wondering something.”

“What?” she questions as she tries to ignore the gnawing feeling in her belly.

“Would you go out with me again?” he asks.

“Of course, but I’m not sure when,” she answers. “After all, we’re both busy this week.”

“Actually, I was thinking about right now,” he tells her as he starts to change into the slow lane.

“Right now?” she squeaks. “But I’m a mess. I haven’t had a chance to do my hair, my makeup must be a disaster and my clothes are all wrinkled. I’ve got dirt stains on my knees from when I got hit by the Frisbee and I still have this lovely shiner.”

“I think you look beautiful,” he states as he pulls off of the freeway.

“You think I look…,” she sputters. “I don’t know if I should take that as a complement or if I should have your eyes checked.”

“I suggest the former,” he chuckles. “Besides, there is more to beauty than physical appearance, there’s also the beauty inside of a person that makes up a part of the whole and you, my dear, are a very beautiful person on the inside. And I must admit that the outside is quite easy on the eyes as well.”

“Thank you,” she whispers, too stunned to say anything else.

A short time later, they’re parked on the street in front of a bunch of shops but she’s still too much in shock to really notice. It’s not until he opens her door and the cold November air hits her in the face that she really reacts to what’s going on. He watches her in concern while he helps her out of the car as she glances at him and gives him a brief smile before looking away as her cheeks redden once more.

“Is everything alright?” he asks while he shuts the car door and then locks the car with the remote.

“Yeah, I’m just a little shocked is all,” she answers as he leads a little hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant between all of the shops.

“About what?” he questions while he holds the door open for her.

“No one’s every told me I’m beautiful inside before,” she tells him as they step into the warm restaurant and the wonderful aromas make their stomachs growl.

“I can’t imagine why not,” he muses as a small Asian lady bustles up to them and then leads them to a table.

“Probably because I’m as stubborn as a mule, as opinionated as a right winger at a libertarian convention and as argumentative as a five year old who doesn’t want to eat his vegetables,” she replies truthfully as he holds her seat out for her. “Thank you.”

“I find it hard to believe that you’re any of those things,” he quietly chuckles as he takes his seat next to her.

“You’ve only known me a week,” she points out. “Trust me; I’m every one of those things and more. That’s usually what ends my relationships within the first few weeks and that’s if they stick around after they find out I refuse to jump into the sack with them until I feel the relationship is stable. Needless to say, there aren’t a lot of guys out there who are willing to put up with that.”

“I feel sorry for them, but at the same time I’m glad,” he tells her as he picks up a menu and pulls out his glasses. “If they had stuck around, you wouldn’t be here with me.”

“Thanks, but you might be eating those words later,” she replies while her cheeks turn a bit redder.

“Speaking of eating, what would you like to order?” he asks as a teenage boy puts a couple of glasses of water in front of them.

“I’m not sure,” she answers as she picks up her own menu, trying not to smirk at the sight he presents. “I haven’t had a lot of Chinese food before.”

“How in the world do you survive in New York without eating Chinese food?” he questions in surprise.

“Frozen dinners don’t take as long and I don’t have to tip the microwave oven,” she responds as she stares at all of the food choices, decidedly not looking at him with those glasses perched on his nose. “I grew up with Mom making dinner every night or there were leftovers. We didn’t go out a lot.”

“It sounds like you led a rather sheltered life back then,” he observes.

“Very sheltered,” she replies as she frowns at her menu. “I have no idea what to order. What’s good here?”

“Well, I haven’t tried everything, but what I have tried has all been good,” he answers. “Would you like me to order for you?”

“I guess so,” she sighs as she puts down her menu, trying very hard not to giggle at the cute picture he presents.

“Anything I should avoid?” he inquires.

“No food allergies, if that’s what you’re wondering, though I’m not particularly fond of octopus,” she tells him.

“Any particular reason why you don’t like that particular cephalopod?” he asks with a smile pulling at his lips.

“Besides the fact that it has the consistency and taste of a rubber eraser?” she counters, her own smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

“Yes, if prepared improperly, it is rather unappetizing,” he admits as he lays the menu down and puts the glasses away. “But when done right, it’s actually rather tasty.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” she responds as the woman who showed them their table comes over to take their order.

While he places their orders, she looks around and admires the décor. The walls are painted red on the top half and wood paneling lines the lower half of the walls with a pair of golden pillars against the back wall with a dragon wrapped around one and a phoenix wrapped around the other. Between the pillars is a shelf with a small statue of Buddha on it and a couple of oranges with burning sticks of incense sticking out of them along with other various items in honor to the owner’s ancestors.

“So what do you think of the place?” he asks after she’s had a good look around.

“I think it’s a refuge that been cleverly hidden in plain sight,” she answers with a smile.

“How do you mean?” he questions as he takes a sip of his water.

“It’s obviously mutant friendly if the way we’ve been treated is any indication,” she replies as she picks up her own water and sits back. “Plus there’s the fact that the young man who brought us our waters had red irises and he’s not wearing contacts. The couple over there, the man snapped his fingers under the food he’s holding in his chopsticks and a small flame burst out of his fingers and burnt the food and the chopsticks to a crisp. The woman sitting with him laughed so hard she actually turned invisible for a moment. Of the two gentlemen sitting a few tables over from them, the thinner gentleman with the gray at his temples reached over to the next table over to get a napkin and stretched his arm about a foot more than it should have been able to go. The larger man sitting with him who’s wearing a trench coat and fedora has skin that appears to be made out of orange stone. The lone gentleman in the corner has barely touched his food since he’s staring around the place in wonder as if he’s never been inside a restaurant before and when he took a sip of his drink he hiccupped and turned completely silver for a second. Should I go on?”

“No, that will do, thank you,” he laughs. “You’re very observant.”

“It’s my job,” she responds, looking a bit smug.

“Speaking of your job, you said that you were going to be in court this week,” he reminds her. “Can you talk about the case your handling?”

“It’s just one neighbor suing another,” she tells him dismissively. “Nothing Earth shattering.”

“What happened?” he inquires.

“Well, it all started when the neighbor that we’re suing came over to the client’s house and asked if they could trim back some of the branches of the big elm tree in the client’s yard,” she starts. “Now, by law, any branch that crosses over the property line may be trimmed back to the property line by the home owner. My client didn’t see any problem with this so they said to go ahead. Imagine their surprise when they got home from work one day and found that all of the branches had been cut back down to the trunk. They tried to save the tree but in the end, it had to be removed.”

“So they’re suing their neighbor’s because they killed a tree?” he asks. “Isn’t this something that could have been settled out of court?”

“It should have been, but the neighbors are fighting this tooth and nail,” she continues. “It’s not just the tree that the client’s are suing for; it’s also the mental anguish that the loss of the tree has caused their eight year old son.”

“Mental anguish for their son?” he questions, an eyebrow rising higher than the other. “Over a tree?”

“The boy’s slightly autistic, has ADHD and has a mild form of retardation,” she explains. “The one thing that he loves to do and that he’s really good at is climbing and he really loved that tree. In fact, it’s because of that tree that they bought that house in the first place. His mother says that he would have literally slept in that tree if she had let him. Now that the tree is gone, the boy has become inconsolable and has started to violently lash out at his parents and his teachers.”

“What do your clients intend to do if they win their case?” he inquires.

“Buy a new house with a big tree but this time they’ll probably get someplace where the neighbor’s aren’t so close together,” she answers.

“I hope they win the case,” he states. “But with you as their lawyer, I don’t see how they can lose.”

“Thanks, but Mr. Jones is the lead lawyer on this case,” she replies. “I’m the junior lawyer so I get to do all the fact finding and information gathering and he gets look good in court.”

“Hardly sounds fair,” he says, not sounding very happy.

“It’s ok, I made a stand with Serena’s case and people now know who I am,” she assures him. “Sooner or later, I’ll be the one grilling the witnesses and there will be a junior lawyer making me look good.”

“Still doesn’t sound fair,” he slightly grumbles.

“It’s part of the learning process,” she tells him. “You wouldn’t expect someone who only just knows the basics of wood working to start making violins would you? No, they have to study with a master first and after many years of practice does the apprentice become a master himself.”

“Ah, I see,” he replies with a nod as the food arrives. “Ah good, I’m starved.”

“So am I,” she replies as she starts to help herself to some of the food. “It looks and smells wonderful.”

“You shall not be disappointed,” he assures her while filling his own plate.

“Ok, I’ve got a slight problem,” she states as she looks around her plate.

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“I don’t have a fork,” she answers.

“You don’t need a fork,” he tells her. “You have these.”

She stares at the pair of long thin bamboo sticks he holds in his hand with a combination of worry and horror.

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Cyber cookies to anyone who can guess who the other patrons in the restaurant are.