Eye of the Beholder

Author's Notes: For those interested, I've updated my Author's Page again, but not with another rebuttal. However, what is there, is important to me, so if you feel so inclined, go ahead and have a look. Big thanks to my reviewers: Anon, onewing and Capt_Davy_Jones_Lover.

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“Are you sure about this?” he asks nervously, Beast not helping with its need to just steal her away and hide her. “I don't want...”

“Hank, please,” she sighs, shifting slightly in her seat to try and get more comfortable. “This has been a long time coming. It's been like an abscess that's needed to be drained for ages.”

“How lucky is it that I just happen to be a doctor,” he jokes and he feels slightly better when he sees her smile, even though it's just a small one.

“I'm sorry you got caught in the middle,” she tells him sadly. “I just hope it helps wake my parents up to the fact that I'm my own person and I want to be treated as such.”

“And if it doesn't?” he questions, mindful of the freshly plowed roads. “They certainly weren't happy when you insisted on going back with me and not them, though they did back down when you pointed out that you're an adult, so there is hope.”

“I'd like to say that I'm better off without them, but they are my family” she replies in a melancholy tone as she carefully cradles her broken arm. “I don't know what I'm going to do. All I do know is that I can't stay under that roof with them for any longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“What do you intend to do once you're back in New York?” he inquires while he makes the final turn onto the road her parents live on.

“Bury myself in my work,” she answers, staring dully out the window of the car. “It's the only thing I can think of to help me get through this since I can't do much else with a busted arm.”

“Yes, I imagine it would be rather difficult to clean while you can sort out your problems,” he responds and she finally turns to look at him, a confused look on her face.

“How did you know that I clean when I need to think things out?” she asks, her brow wrinkling into a frown.

“I'm sure you must have mentioned it once or twice,” he answers, mentally kicking himself for slipping like that.

“When?” she questions suspiciously.

“I don't recall the exact time and place,” he replies and he's actually grateful as he pulls up in front of her parents' house. “Are you ready?”

“No, but the sooner we get this over with, the better,” she sighs, looking like she'd face a hoard of hungry lions then her own family.

He nods his reluctant agreement, turns off the engine and then carefully gets out of the car, making sure to not jar the car when he shuts the door. He quickly makes his way around to her side and he can see her taking deep calming breaths through the window. He gently helps her out of the car and no sooner is she out then the twins come barreling out of the house. He barely manages to get himself between Amanda and the charging girls and they run into him instead of their intended target.

“I'm sorry, girls, but I can't let you run into your aunt like that,” he gently tells them when they look up at him with confusion in their eyes. “She's very sore from yesterday's fall and you'll hurt her if you charge into her like you normally do.”

They look up at him with big, wide eyes for a moment and then look around him at their aunt. They can see the tip of her cast peeking out from her coat sleeve and the bandage on her forehead does little to hid the growing bruise there. Amanda gives the girls a sad smile as they carefully walk around Hank to their aunt and they gently wrap their arms around her middle once they reach Amanda. They immediately bury their faces in her coat and start crying.

“We're sorry, Aunt Amy.”
“Please don't go.”
“It's all our fault that you got hurt.”
“Please don't go.”
“We're sorry.”
“Please don't go.”

“Girls, let's go inside where it's warm,” Amanda suggests, rubbing her hands up and down their backs as best she can while Hank tries to figure out which girl said what.

They head for the porch with the twins still firmly holding onto their aunt where they find Cathy and Mike waiting for them. Cathy doesn't look happy, but she leads them inside without a word and Mike looks like he could use a few more hours sleep if the bags under his eyes are any indication. Hank keeps a close eye on his lady, watching to make sure she doesn't stumble or worse yet, fall.

Once they're inside the warm house and she's managed to dislodge the girls, Hank carefully helps Amanda take her coat off, being very mindful of her broken arm. She removes the one glove she can wear and her scarf as the silence in the house starts to get a bit nerve wracking for him. As soon as she's free of her outer garments, she slowly makes her way into the living room, the twins shadowing her all the way.

She takes a seat in the middle cushion of the couch and the girls immediately flank her, taking a seat on either side. She pulls them as close as she can, gently kissing the top of their heads as they get more comfortable. Hank, Cathy and Mike also take seats and Hank notes that Annie, Paul and Stuart are either not in the house or are keeping very quiet so he can't hear them.

“Girls, what happened to me is not your fault,” Amanda tells them in a gentle but firm voice. “I wasn't paying attention to where I was going.”

“But you and Mom had that fight because of us,” Bethany points out with a sniff.

“Your mother and I have been having fights most of our lives,” Amanda replies.

“But not like this,” Beverly whimpers. “Mom's never slapped you before.”

“Yes she has,” Amanda tells her. “When we were growing up, we used to have fights that make a couple alley cats look calm. We've mellowed a bit with age, but we still have arguments.”

“But not like this,” Bethany sobs just before burying her face in Amanda's shoulder.

Beverly follows suit and a moment later, Amanda can feel her top getting wet and all she can do is hold them closer. One of the girls squeezes her a bit tighter and she winces as one of her many bruises protests being touched. Mike and Hank both start to get up and she shakes her head at them while she holds the girls a little bit closer as best she can.

“Where's Paul?” Amanda asks after the girls calm down again.

“Annie found him hiding in your room late last night,” Mike hesitantly tells her. “It looks like he was...playing his new game on your computer and then passed out at some point. He's still pretty tired and Annie's upstairs with him right now.”

“I told him not to do that on my computer,” Amanda sighs sadly with a shake of her head. “Not that Annie would believe me if I told her.”

“Aunt Amy, what happened to your hand?” Beverly questions, effectively cutting off any further discussion of Paul.

“I broke my wrist,” Amanda answers.

“I know that,” Beverly pouts. “I meant your other hand. There's a big old bandage on it.”

“That's where the IV was,” Amanda replies, her discomfort very evident in her voice and a shiver runs up her spine.

“I must say you put on quite the show for the hospital staff,” Cathy huffs. “It's probably half way across town by now. I know you don't live here any more, but please have consideration for your father and I who do.”

“You thought I was faking it?” Amanda demands, the memory of the needle in her hand and her mother's current attitude making it very hard to maintain control.

“You were definitely being melodramatic about the whole thing,” Cathy sniffs. “You didn't used to act that way when you had to have your shots when you were a child.”

“That's because I got those shots before you let those vampires at me,” Amanda snarls through clenched teeth as carefully disentangles herself from the twins.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Cathy states in confusion while Amanda slowly stands up.

“Remember when Annie had her...incident when we were fourteen?” Amanda snaps and Cathy looks at her in confusion for a few moments before realization dawns on her face.

“But that was nearly sixteen years ago,” Cathy blurts out in surprise.

“I don't care if it was sixty years ago,” Amanda growls as she glares at her mother. “The fact of the matter remains that not only did they force me to give that blood sample, but you told them to do it and then stood there watching with that disapproving look on your face that you seem to have reserved only for me. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go pack.”

Before anyone can react, Amanda marches out of the room as best she can and then heads upstairs, leaving those behind rather stunned by her outburst. The adults are shaken out of their dazed states by the sound of the girls starting to cry again and Mike immediately goes and takes Amanda's spot on the couch. Hank looks over at the other man and he looks as confused as Hank feels.

“Might I ask what happened almost sixteen years ago?” Hank quietly requests.

“It was a family matter,” Cathy stiffly tells him and all but launches herself out of her seat before quickly leaving the room.

“Interesting,” Hank mutters to himself before turning his attention to Mike with a hopeful look.

“Whatever happened, happened before I knew them,” Mike tells him while he tries to calm his distraught daughters. “I could ask Annie, but I doubt she's in a mood to talk about it and quite frankly, I'm not in the mood for another fight.”

“Yes, it does look like you didn't get much sleep last night,” Hank observes, intent on getting to the bottom of all of the confusion.

“Cathy and Stuart need to invest in newer couches,” Mike grumbles. “The ones they have now are murder on the back.”

“Why didn't you just go and use the bed I had been sleeping in?” Hank inquires, a bit bewildered. “I certainly wasn't going to be using it since I checked into the hotel near the hospital.”

“Stuart was sleeping in there since he and Cathy had a disagreement about God only knows what,” Mike grumbles. “Sleeping in Amy's bed would have just been too weird and Paul tends move around a lot when he sleeps, so it was the couch for me.”

“For what it is worth, I am sorry,” Hank softly sighs. “I didn't mean to cause such an upheaval.”

“It's not your fault, Hank,” Mike assures him. “Something's up with Annie and whatever it is has got her really on edge.”

“Besides me being here?” Hank questions with a tilt of his head.

“Besides you being here,” Mike confirms. “I just wish I knew what was up with her.”

Before Hank can respond, he hears Amanda calling for him.

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She firmly shuts the door behind her and then leans against it as she tries to regain her composure. She can feel her heart pounding in her chest as the memory of the day she really learned what fear is swims around in her head like a hungry shark. It takes all of her will power not to collapse into a useless mess on the floor as she remembers how helpless she felt and several tears leave their wet tracks down her cheeks as her body shakes from the memories.

“Pull it together, girl,” she growls to herself as she hastily wipes the tears away. “They're gone and they can't hurt you anymore.”

She roughly shoves herself away from the door and then steadies herself against the wall as a case of the vertigo hits her. She waits until her vision clears, seething at herself for being so weak and for letting her family get to her once again. Once she's sure she's not going to fall down, she stumbles over to the closet and pulls out her bags.

Caring only for speed and not giving a damn about neatness, she crams her clothes into her bags as fast as she can. After barely getting her bags zipped up, she goes to pack away her art supplies and her computer, but the desk is conspicuously bare of any laptops. She quickly looks around to make sure she somehow moved it without remembering, but comes up empty.

Then she remembers what Mike told her earlier. With a snarl rumbling out of her throat, she tries to storm out of her room and heads down the hallway towards the room her nephew has been using. She does her best to ignore the throbbing pain in her head and wrist and opens the door with a bit more force then necessary, startling Annie by doing so. Annie's eyes narrow as the two women glare at each other for a few moments.

“Where's my computer?” Amanda demands.

“How should I know?” Annie retorts as she goes back to the cross stitch in her hands. “I'm not the keeper of your things.”

“No, you just happen to be the taker of my things whenever you get into one of your little snits,” Amanda growls. “So where the Hell is it?”

“And you eat with that mouth?” Annie scoffs.

“Listen you whiny, little brat, thanks to you I got to spend the night in the hospital with a needle stuck in my hand and strapped to a bed,” Amanda snarls, moving further into the room. “I have my arm in a cast and a headache the size of Mount Rushmore, so I'm in no mood for your little games. Where is my computer?”

“You can have it when you leave,” Annie huffs.

“That's what I'm trying to do, you...,” Amanda starts, but a whimper from the bed draws her attention away from her sister. “Sweet Jesus, he looks horrible.”

“No thanks to you, he's been unconscious since I found him late last night,” Annie snaps, though her voice is full of worry as she looks down at her son. “And he's been getting worse.”

Amanda barely hears her sister as she looks down at the boy in the bed. He's very pale and there's a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. She moves closer and gently brushes some of his hair off of his face, gasping in surprise when she makes skin to skin contact.

“He's been like this since last night?” Amanda asks, worry clearly etched on her face.

“He's been sweating since around dawn and the whimpering he only started a couple of hours ago,” Annie softly admits.

“Aren't you going to take him to the doctor?” Amanda questions, fear starting to clutch at her heart.

“And tell them what?” Annie demands, finally looking up at her sister with her eyes narrowed. “That he knocked himself out wandering around the Internet? He just over exerted himself. He'll wake up when he's rested.”

“Annie, he's burning up, he needs to see a doctor,” Amanda shoots back.

“I can't take the risk that someone will find out,” Annie whispers miserably, her shoulders slumping as she looks down at her son again. “I don't want him to live with the hate so many people have for us.”

“Luckily, I happen to know someone who can keep a secret and he makes house calls,” Amanda replies as she turns to leave the room, shaking off the vertigo from spinning around too fast.

“Where are you going?” Annie demands, getting up from her seat.

“To make a call,” Amanda answers as she steps out into the hall. “Hank! Come up here please.”

“No! I don't want him up here,” Annie hisses as she grabs Amanda's arm.

“Why not?” Amanda inquires, trying not to flinch as Annie squeezes one of her many bruises. “He's a doctor, he can keep a secret and he happens to be here. Convenient that.”

“But if he finds out that Paul's a mutant, he'll take him away,” Annie nearly sobs, clutching even harder. “Just like they did with me.”

“The reason Xavier came for you was because you were a danger to yourself and everyone around you,” Amanda points out as the sound of someone coming up the stairs reaches them. “Now let go. I'm starting to lose feeling in that arm.”

Annie gives her one hard glare before letting go and then wrapping her arms around herself for comfort. Hank reaches the top of the stairs with a curious look on his face and he heads towards her with Mike and the girls not that far behind.

“Do you need assistance with something, my dear?” Hank asks, a bit surprised to see her so far from her room and so close to her sister.

“It's Paul,” Amanda answers. “He's sick. Could you take a look at him please?”

“I shouldn't examine him without his parent's permission,” Hank warns, looking over at the distraught mother

“He hasn't woken up yet?” Mike questions a bit forcefully, staring at Annie who simply shakes her head, unable to look her husband in the eye. “You have my permission to examine him, Hank.”

“Very well,” Hank replies as he heads towards the door. “I'll see what I can do for him.”

Hank steps past Amanda and Annie and into the room, noting the air is stale and bit too warm. A frown furrows his brow when he lays eyes on the boy and he quickly moves to the bedside. With a deft flick of the wrist, the bedclothes are flung to the foot of the bed revealing that Paul is still wearing the clothes from the day before and they and the bedding are all soaked with sweat.

“He's burning up,” Hank murmurs worriedly as he lays his hand on Paul's forehead and then peels back an eyelid revealing an eye that's completely black.

“When you found him last night, what was my computer doing?” Amanda demands from her sister.

“I don't know, it was just sitting there,” Annie replies defensively. “Was it supposed to be dancing or something?”

“Was it displaying my desktop or was it doing that weird thing with the numbers,” Amanda snaps as Cathy joins them.

“I don't know, I don't remember,” Annie retorts, nervously casting glances at Hank who's watching them with curiosity.

“Where is my computer!?” Amanda nearly yells.

“Why!?” Annie demands, her eyes glistening with tears. “What's so important about your computer? My son's sick and all you can think about is your stupid computer”

“I want it because if we're lucky, Paul's still in it and not lost to the Internet,” Amanda growls her replies.

“Be quiet,” Annie hisses, getting right into Amanda's face.

“What's more important to you, Annie?” Amanda asks, her eyes narrowing. “Keeping Paul's abilities a secret or his life?”