Eye of the Beholder

Author's Notes I: On the plus side of going on vacation, I took along my note book and I hand wrote the next couple of chapters, you lucky people you. A big thank you to Cass for your review.

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“That is the most...interesting...news, 'Ro,” he states, glancing down at the sleeping beauty beside him, the early afternoon sun highlighting the bruise on her forehead.

“There's more,” she tells him.

“Oh?”

“Yes, it seems that Amanda is-”

BEEP!

“Hello?” he calls. “'Ro?”

After a couple seconds of silence, he looks down at his cell phone and sees that the blasted little thing has shut itself off. He remembers seeing that the battery was low earlier and he huffs in frustration. He plugs the phone into the charger and the takes the ear piece off, tossing it into the glove box.

He looks down at the woman beside him again and wonders what other secrets she's hiding from him.

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“Hank?” she calls out. “Hello, Hank? Can you hear me?”

When she doesn't get a response, she hangs up and calls him again. It goes straight to voice mail and with a sigh of frustration, she leaves a message, hoping that he'll get it soon. After hanging up, she stares at the computer monitor for a little while more before turning it off and leaving her office.

“Guter Tag, Ororo,” Kurt greets as she walks down the hallway. “Iz everyting all right?”

“I'm not sure,” she replies as he falls into step beside her. “I found out something about Amanda Simon and her sister that I thought Hank should know, but we were cut off before I could tell him everything. I'm just worried that he'll assume the wrong thing and it will cause problems between them. I wonder if I've done the right thing.”

“If it iz meant to be, den all vill be vell,” he assures her. “One must trust de good Lord to help dem to vork out any problems dat may develop.”

“I hope you're right, Kurt,” she sighs just as a band of giggling girls go charging down the hall.

“I vonder vhat dat vas all about,” he muses as the gaggle disappears around the corner.

“I'm not-,” she starts only to be interrupted by the bellow of an angry Wolverine and she sighs. “Here we go again.”

“Zo it vould zeem,” he chuckles as a half dressed Logan comes barreling around the corner with his bright purple hair even wilder than normal.

“I don't even want to know how they managed that one,” she states as they angry mutant goes careening past them and makes the same turn as the girls did.

“Should ve save dem from demselves?” he asks as they hear shrieks coming down the corridor.

“I guess we better,” she answers as Logan starts yelling.

With a sigh, she turns around and follows the others, not sure if she should punish the culprits or compliment them for being able to pull one over on the Wolverine.

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She watches the snow covered landscape go by through her window, admiring the unspoiled beauty of it all. He hasn't spoken much since she woke up a while ago, but since he's having to navigate winding mountain roads, she doesn't really blame him. Heaven knows she'd have a death grip on the steering wheel and would only communicate in grunts if she was driving.

When they finally reach their destination, the sun is starting to set and her stomach is beginning to grumble. Fortunately, the driveway and the path to the front door have already been cleared of snow so they don't have to contend with that. They quickly start unloading the car and all but run inside only to find that it's as cold inside as it is outside. He goes to the fireplace to start a fire while she goes in search of a bathroom. When she comes back out, there's a roaring fire going and he's bringing in the last of the luggage. She goes to help him, but he brushes past her and then disappears through a door that leads to the bedroom.

“Do you need help with anything?” she asks.

“No, thank you,” he answers from the other room. “Go ahead and get comfortable by the fire. I have everything under control. I'll get dinner started in a bit.”

“Are you sure?” she questions as she moves closer to the fire.

“Quite sure,” he assures her.

“Umm...we didn't stop at a grocery store,” she hesitantly points out while she sits down near the delightful warmth.

“I sent the owner a list several weeks ago and paid him quite handsomely to have the place stocked before hand,” he tells her and she can hear him moving around in the next room. “There should be enough food to last one person a full week or two people half a week.”

“You think of everything, don't you?” she chuckles while she looks around.

“I do try,” he responds as he emerges and then crosses over to the kitchen area.

“How did you know that the owner wouldn't just rent the cabin out again since you weren't here when you said you'd be?” she queries.

“The owner is a friend of mine and he doesn't normally rent it out, but he owed me a favor,” he responds and she nods her understanding. “I felt it only fair to compensate him for his time and the use of his property, so I paid him for it.”

She takes a good look around the cabin and admires the quaint place while he rummages around the cupboards. She's in a fairly good sized room that consists of a comfortable looking couch facing her and a couple over stuffed chairs roughly circled around a coffee table. There's a couple book shelves mostly filled with books, though she can see some games on a couple of shelves. Shoved into the corner of one of the shelves is a small CD player, but other than that, there's no electronic entertainment equipment to be had.

On the far side of the room, separated by a counter that extends from the wall to half way across the room is the kitchen. Not wanting to leave her warm spot and knowing that she's not really going to be using it that much, she just looks over from where she is. The appliances all appear to be fairly new and she's happy to see that there's at least a microwave.

“Can I turn on the heater?” she inquires after looking the place over and not seeing the thermostat. “As much as I like the fire, I'd like to be able to move around without freezing.”

“I'm afraid that the fire is the main source of heat in here,” he tells her. “You'll notice that the bedroom is directly behind the fireplace. This allows the excess heat to warm up that room instead of being lost to the world outside.”

“Very cleaver,” she notes as she finally warms up enough to at least open her coat and shed her glove and scarf.

“Not really,” he says as he starts filling up a large pot with water. “Until the invention of central heating, houses were normally built with the fireplace in a central location. It's just common sense.”

“Something a lot of people are lacking these days,” she mutters as she gets up and retrieves her art bag.

“You'll get no argument from me,” he replies while he turn off the water and puts the pot on the stove. “I hope you don't mind a simple supper tonight. It's been a long drive and I'm not feeling particularly creative this evening.”

When he only gets a noncommittal grunt, he looks over at her and finds her drawing once more. A smile starts to pull at his lips until he remembers Ororo's call earlier. He wonders if she ever plans on telling him the truth and a frown creases his brow as he turns back to making their dinner.

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She watches him from the doorway of the bedroom as he reads his book so intently, that he doesn't even so much as glance at her. All she's wearing is the little negligee Doug talked her into buying and the matching robe that she's eternally glad she bought and she wonders if he'd notice her if she was wearing nothing at all. She's not sure what's going on, but he seems to have had something on his mind for a while now.

Ever since she woke up in the car, he's been quiet and rather distant. What little dinner conversation they had was on nice safe subjects, like the weather and the local flora and fauna. She's not sure what's up, but if what she's wearing doesn't draw his attention back to her, she's not sure anything will.

Fighting back the need to shiver as a stray draft makes it right up her robe, she quietly pads across the hardwood floor to the couch. She settles down next to him with her feet curled up underneath her and stares at him. After nearly a minute of him not even acknowledging her presence, she scoots closer. She hopes that he'll at least put an arm around her so that she can cuddle up next to him and get warm. She frowns as he continues to ignore her and she decides use a different tactic.

“What are you reading?” she asks.

“Descartes,” he answers coolly.

He gives her a cursory glance out of the corner of his eye as he turns the page and nearly drops the book. The little robe she's wearing clings to all the right places and he can feel his blood starting to head south while Beast sits up and takes notice. She moves a little bit and becomes very evident that if she's wearing anything under that little bit of cloth, it's not much.

“I'm in the mood for some tea,” he states suddenly as he launches himself off of the sofa. “Would you care for some as well?”

“No, thank you,” she replies, confusion evident in her voice.

“Then perhaps some hot chocolate?” he suggests as he quickly heads for the kitchen. “I believe I saw a box of it in the cupboard earlier.”

“I'm not thirsty, thank you,” she responds as she gets up and goes to stand near the kitchen table.

She watches as he bustles around the kitchen, putting the tea kettle on, getting out a mug and selecting a tea. She can see him occasionally glancing in her direction, so there's no doubt in her mind that he knows what she's wearing. Her stomach ties itself into a knot as she begins getting the sinking feeling that his interest in her has already started to wane.

“Did I do something wrong?” she blurts out, even catching herself by surprise and he pauses for a moment.

“I was curious about something,” he starts hesitantly while he carefully places the tea bag in the cup, keeping his back to her. “What's your sister's full name?”

“Annabel Marie Gifford” she responds, a bit confused.

“Why does your sister wear customized contact lenses?” he inquires and when she doesn't immediately respond, he continues. “I noticed that her pupil size never changed no matter what the lighting condition.”

“The treatment that saved her life when she was six left her with a sensitivity to bright light,” she answers a few moments later, a hint of sadness in her voice. “if she's not wearing the contacts, then she'll be wearing sunglasses with very dark lenses.”

There's more silence between them as she shifts around and pulls the rope tighter around her as she tries to stay warm. A moment later the tea kettle whistles and he pours the boiling water into his mug. His mind is going a mile a minute as he figures out how he wants to continue, never noticing the cold mask her face is taking on.

“I find it interesting that while Annie's nails are much shorter than yours, she left scratch marks on your face, yet when you did the same to her, there were none,” he says in a tight controlled voice and it's all the evidence she needs to know what's going on.

“I hate to disappoint you, Ambassador, but my sister is happily married with children and it's very unlikely that you'll be able to convince her to leave her family for you,” she states in a cold, hard voice.

He blinks several times in confusion and by the time he turns around to talk to her, she's gone. He hears the bedroom door firmly shut a moment later and he stares at it, completely befuddled by her reaction. Without consciously telling his feet to move, he finds himself headed for the bedroom.

He listens at the door and he can hear her moving around inside. He quietly opens the portal where he finds her finishing pulling on her regular clothes and a pile of unfolded clothes on the bed. He steps into the room and sees that the silky little number that she had just been wearing is on the floor next to the garbage can.

He steps into the room and a glittering something catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. He sees the necklace he gave her sitting peacefully on the night stand and his brow wrinkles in a frown. He takes the few steps needed to reach the spot and then carefully picks it up by the chain.

“You're not wearing your necklace,” he calmly observes, remembering the last time he found it when she took it off in anger.

“It was hurting my neck,” she coolly replies as she starts to fold the clothes on the bed. “It's heavier than I'm used to.”

“I would imagine that after your fall, every little thing must hurt,” he says and he tries to suppress the images of her from this morning when he helped her bathe.

“I guess it doesn't help that whatever electronic gizmo's in there has added to the weight,” she responds and he nearly stops breathing as his heart rate skyrockets while his brain begins racing through all of the she could have found out. “Paul told me that there was something in there, that it's powerful and it'll last a long time. However, he wasn't able to tell what it does. Care to enlighten me? Or do I get a screwdriver and pry that locket open? Or maybe I should just take a hammer to it? After all, it could be something quite dangerous to me. I received more than one death threat after Serena's case.”

“It won't blow up or harm you in any way,” he assures her quickly. “It's a neural dampener and I created it to keep you safe.”

“And who's neurons are getting dampened?” she asks, a hint of anger in her voice.

“James Jones,” he tells her without hesitation. “It took me more than three weeks to get it set to the right frequency and I now owe the man who helped me a major favor, but it was all worth it to know that you'll be safe when I'm not around. I will sleep better at night knowing that he cannot coerce you into doing anything against your will when I'm not there to put him in his place.”

“How close does he have to be for it to work?” she questions, some of her anger fading with his words.

“As soon as he's within fifty feet of you, his powers will be dampened,” he answers, noting that she's not looking at him. “If you have to go to court, this should even the playing field.”

“What if the battery goes out when he's around?” she inquires.

“As long as you're wearing it, or even have it on you somewhere the power should remain constant,” he says. “Just you moving around will give it the power it needs.”

They stand there in silence for some time as she continues to sloppily fold her clothes.

“Are you upset that I did this?” he finally asks.

“No,” she answers. “I think it was very sweet that you did it, but I do wish you had told me before Paul found out that there was something in there. I've been kind of freaked out the past couple of days because of it.”

“I do apologize for that,” he replies contritely.

“It's ok,” she assures him.

“Do you need help putting it back on?” he questions.

“No, thank you,” she responds.

“Why not?” he inquires, a bit hurt that she doesn't want to wear his gift.

“Because for one, I doubt that James is going to come bursting through the door and for two, it really was hurting my neck,” she tells him.

“I understand,” he replies as he carefully puts the item back down on the nightstand.

They stand there in silence again until he remembers why he came into the room in the first place.

“What makes you think I'm romantically interested in your sister?” he asks and Beast hisses at the idea.

“Why shouldn't you be?” she demands and she can feel the muscles in her shoulders tightening up. “Everyone loves, sweet, quiet, shy, demure Annie. She's nothing like loud, obnoxious, opinionated, domineering Amy. Why shouldn't my own supposed boyfriend like her more than me too? It's not like you'd be the first guy that chose her over me.”

“Amanda,” he starts in a firm tone.

“It doesn't seem to matter where I go or what I do, it all comes back to Annie,” she continues bitterly as if he hadn't said a thing. “I've got to wonder why you even bothered to drag me out here if it's my sister you're really interested in.”

“I am not interested in your sister,” he states through gritted teeth.

“Then why ask me questions about her?” she snaps and her hands start shaking, making it hard to fold her clothes. “Why bring her up at all? She's hundreds of miles away and I'm right here!”

“I got a most interesting call on the way up here from Ororo,” he tells her, quickly reigning in his ire. “It seems that sixteen years ago Xavier's got a student with enhanced senses, green eyes like a cat and the ability to change into a black panther.”

She doesn't answer him and doesn't look at him. The only thing she does do is stop folding her clothes.

“The student's name was Annabel Marie Simon from Ashley, Virginia,” he nearly snarls. “Her parents were Cathy and Stuart Simon and her identical twin sister...Amanda Rachel Simon.”

“Your point?” she questions, still not looking at him.

“My point is that if one identical twin is a mutant, so is the other,” he reminds her, barely containing the hurt he's feeling. “You lied to me.”

“I have never lied to you,” she states, finally looking him in the eye. “I may not have told you every little thing about my life, but neither have you.”

“Lying through omission is still lying,” he snaps.

“What omission?” she demands. “I've told you point plank that I'm not a mutant.”

“That's impossible,” he shoots back. “Your identical twin is a mutant. This means you are too.”

“Oh really?” she snarls. “And what exactly is my mutation, Hank? Hurting myself? Because if it is, I might be tempted to switch powers with Rogue.”

“Not all mutations are blatantly obvious,” he heatedly points out. “I've known many mutants who could pass as normal.”

“But I am normal,” she insists loudly. “I spent three years of my life checking myself in the mirror, analyzing every little thing that happened around me and wondering if I somehow caused it with my undiscovered powers. I actually hoped that I would become a mutant like Annie and then maybe my parents would finally realize that I was just as special as she is...But then one day, my parents let a couple vampires take my blood and they tested it. As angry as I was at them for their method of getting their sample, they were my last hope for finding out what my mutation was. You can't imagine how upset I was when I found out that I am completely, boringly normal.”

“What were the names of these people?” he asks. “I am must curious to know who these people were that you and your parents would trust their results.”

She narrows her eyes and glares at him before grinding the names out through her teeth.

“Jean Grey and Charles Xavier.”

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A/N II: So, once the mushroom cloud from the bomb I just dropped clears, please leave a review.