Eye of the Beholder

Author's Notes: Sorry that this chapter took a while, especially since I said that I had already written it. I had to rewrite it a couple times to make it work. The first time I wrote this it was long hand and Amanda had monologue that was 2 ½ pages long. Not good. But it's done now and all is right with the world. A big thank you to my reviewers: Anon, Cougar, Capt_Davy_Jones_Lover and Aderiana.

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The shock of hearing those two names leaves him speechless for several minutes and while he's recovering, she goes back to folding her clothes. When he finally looks over at her, he can see that her face is set in a cold mask again, but her actions are anything but calm if the sloppily folded clothes are anything to go by. He can almost feel her anger radiating from the other side of the bed and he has to remind himself to proceed with caution.

“I would greatly appreciate it if you told me what exactly happened,” he says carefully.

She doesn't slow down her folding, but he knows she heard him as he can see that her face becomes a bit redder and a muscle twitches next to her eye.

“Do you want the long version or the Cliff notes version?” she asks, a touch of hostility in her voice.

“Cliff notes, please,” he requests. “I'll ask for clarification if I need it.”

She collects her thoughts for a while as he watches patiently, waiting for an explanation for her obvious dislike towards a couple people he once cared for. She tries to make the pile of folded clothes neater as she figures out how to tell him things that she's never told anyone else before. He has to remind himself to be patient as she seems to be taking forever and then finally, she takes a deep breath.

“At age six, Annie got sick and was saved by an experimental treatment,” she starts while he bites his tongue to keep from reminding her that he already knows that and then something clicks in the back of his mind. “At eleven, she woke up in the middle of the night screaming that her eyes were burning. The doctors couldn't find anything wrong with her, but when the pain finally went away, she had cat eyes. Shortly after that, we moved to Virginia. When she was fourteen, she was attacked by some guy on the run from the law who was hiding out in the woods behind the house. That's when we found out she could turn into a black panther.”

She pauses for a bit and he patiently waits, knowing the hardest part is about to come.

“There was a huge media frenzy over the guy's death,” she continues. “When it was over, the authorities claimed that the mountain lion that had killed the guy must have moved on. About a week after everything settled down Xavier and Gray arrived at our front door.”

He watches her and notices that her face is pale now and beads of sweat have appeared on her forehead and upper lip.

“They were all set to take both Annie and me to the school, but when they found out that I hadn't shown any signs of being a mutant, that's when things got ugly,” she says and he can see her starting to tremble. “Xavier wanted a blood sample, I said 'no' and then Mom told him to use whatever means necessary. I tried to leave, but the next thing I knew I was sitting at the kitchen table with my arm out. I couldn't move, I couldn't scream. I couldn't do anything but what he told me to. I watched as he told Gray how to draw my blood. I had hated needles before that, but I'll never get the image out of my head of that needle going in and me not being able to do or say anything about it..”

“I'm sorry you had to go through that,” he softly tells her as he starts to move around the bed. “Charles was normally a lot more sensitive towards other people's feelings. I can't imagine why he would be so callous towards yours.”

“Might have had something to do with the fact that I threatened to push him down the front steps if he laid a hand on me,” she replies and his mouth drops open.

“You didn't,” he gasps a few moments later after recovering from his shock.

“I never said I was an angel, Hank,” she points out a bit heatedly as she grabs another item off of the pile of clothes. “In fact, I've told you several times that I'm the evil twin.”

“You're not evil, my love,” he assures her as he steps up to her. “Angry, hurt and lashing out, yes, but not evil. It's no wonder that you're on antidepressants.”

She doesn't say anything, but he can see the muscles in her neck and shoulders tighten. She turns away from him and this worries him. He tries to move into her line of sight, but she refuses to look at him.

“Amanda, why are you on antidepressants?” he asks, concern tingeing his words.

“Do you remember when I said I wanted to crawl in a hole and die after I found out that Keith was just using me to get his rocks off back in college?” she counter questions in voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeeesss,” he hesitantly answers.

“It wasn't for lack of trying,” she states as she hangs her head in shame.

“How...?” he starts, but he's not sure which question he wants to ask or even if he should ask any of them.

“Sleeping pills and cheep whiskey,” she answers, still not looking up at him. “Can't say that I recommend that combination. Doug's the one who found me and called 9-1-1. The things they did to me when I got to the emergency room...”

He reaches out and gently touches her shoulder as she gives into a full body shudder. When she doesn't pull away, he takes this as a good sign and carefully wraps his arms around her trembling form. She makes a strange sound that's reminiscent of a wounded animal and he holds her closer as the dam finally breaks.

He scoops her up into his arms when her legs give out and he's rather glad for his mutation as he balances on one leg. With the other leg, he pushes all of the clothing onto the floor and then climbs onto the bed with her still in his embrace. She's completely oblivious to what he's doing as she continues to make noises like a hurt and frightened animal.

Once he has them situated on the bed, she curls up into a tight ball and starts to wail even louder. He holds her close as all the years of pain and suffering that she's been keeping bottled up come flooding out. He tries to use his body to shield her from the rest of the world as her sobs wrack her body and it kills him inside that she's been holding onto this for so long.

He buries his nose into her soft hair as he whispers words of love and acceptance and he comfortingly strokes her back and tresses. Her fingers grab a hold of his shirt and she clings to him as if her very life depends on it while she presses her face against his neck. Despite the fact that she has a very solid grasp of his chest hairs, he doesn't pull away and continues to comfort her the best he can.

It seems to take hours for all of the emotional pain to drain out of her and he couldn't care less. It could take days as far as he's concerned and he would continue to sit there with her, never leaving her side. Since he's given his heart to her, he can do little else.

When at long last the tears run dry, she gives one last shuddering sigh and then goes limp in his arms. After making sure that she's simply fallen asleep, he carefully gets out of the bed with her still safely in his embrace. He puts her to bed, goes out and turns off all of the lights, dumping his tea out in the process, before returning to her. He strips down to his boxers and then climbs between the sheets with her, content in knowing that for the time being, they are safe from the world outside.

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The feeling of someone getting in bed with him wakes him and he's instantly alert. One sniff tells him it's only his lady love and he gladly pulls her close when she snuggles up to him, letting out a contented sigh. It takes several moments for her body temperature to make it through his fur and he starts to rub her back and bare arm to try and warm her up.

“Good heavens, woman, what have you been doing?” he grumbles as she cuddles up even more and her cold digits burrow beneath his fur. “Playing in the snow?”

“No,” she snickers as she nuzzles her frigid nose against his cheek. “Just getting some wood from the shed. There was only one piece left next to the fireplace and I needed more to get a good fire going.”

“If the fire needed to be built up, you should have woken me,” he gently admonishes as he carefully rolls towards her to allow more body contact between them.

“No need,” she sighs happily as she buries her face into his fur. “I know how to build a fire and I had to get up anyways.”

“Why?”

“Bathroom.”

“Oh.”

He lets out another happy sigh while he relaxes and tries to drift back to sleep. However, he has to capture and still a mischievous hand that's ghosting over his body while Beast encourages him to explore the silky item beneath his other hand. It's only then that he realizes that she's not wearing the same outfit that she went to bed in.

“Why did you change clothes?” he asks as he tries to slow the blood that's headed for his groin.

“The sweats were living up to their name and I was melting,” she answers while she squirms around next to him and he has to bite back a groan. “Besides, there's something very sensual about fur on bare skin.”

“You're not playing fair,” he moans as her lips find his jaw.

“I'm a lawyer,” she reminds him with a devious chuckle. “I'm not supposed to play fair.”

He tries to come up with a response, but then she finds his ear and it's all he can do to keep Beast at bay. He groans as his traitorous body eagerly responds to her even though he knows he could hurt her so easily. When she pushes him onto his back, climbs on top of him and then finds his lips with hers, he's sure the war is pretty much over.

His hands seem to develop a mind of their own as they start roaming over her body and completely enjoying the feeling of her soft skin. They gladly caress her thighs before sneaking under that little number she's wearing and his fingers carefully explore the lacy panties she's wearing. He's so hard he wouldn't be surprised if he could knock holes in a brick wall right now.

He grabs her hips and moves her down so that her moist heat is right above his turgid length. He holds her firmly in place as he grinds himself into that sweet spot, the only barrier between them being thin pieces of satin and silk. He moans as that delightful friction starts to drive him mad while she lets out a strangled whimper and it takes his lust fogged brain several moments to register the sound as a bad one.

“Amanda, no!” he nearly yells as he none to gently pushes her off and she lets out a yelp of surprise and pain as she hits the bed. “This is why we mustn't do this. I'll hurt you.”

“Why did you bring me out here?” she softly asks, the emotional pain evident in her voice.

“I wanted you to relax and heal,” he answers miserably, knowing that he's hurt her again. “I know if I left you in New York you'd just work yourself ragged. Your body needs to heal in a quiet atmosphere.”

“I can't relax here,” she tells him dejectedly as she slides out of bed.

“Why not?” he asks, sitting up.

He can easily see the multitude of bruises covering her arms, shoulders and legs in the low light of the room and once again he curses himself for not going after her sooner.

“Because you're here,” she retorts as she finds her sweat pants and starts pulling them on again. “How the Hell can I relax when the man I want most in this miserable world is sitting right there but won't even touch me?”

“Amanda, I just hurt you!” he reminds her heatedly. “How can that possibly be enjoyable?”

“It's more manageable than the emotional pain I'm feeling right now,” she whispers as she grabs her sweat shirt off of the floor and bolts out of the room.

“Amanda!” he yells as he gives chase.

He easily catches up with her just as she reaches the bathroom door and barely manages to get between her and the doorway.

“Where do you think you're going?” he demands, trying not to growl.

“The bathroom,” she says, her voice and body both shaking. “It's not like I can go any place else. You've effectively trapped me out here.”

“I don't want you to feel trapped and I will take you back to New York if that's what you really want,” he says, misery tingeing his words. “But I must ask why you feel this way.”

“You're here,” she repeats, refusing to look him in the eye. “How can you expect me to calmly sit around when you're here? To be told that you're not going to touch me or love me is the worse kind of torture.”

“You're injured,” he reminds her. “I don't want to risk hurting you further.”

“You think I don't know that!?” she demands loudly, assaulting his sensitive hearing. “You think I don't feel the throbbing in my head and arm when the pain killers start to wear off? That I don't feel the aching muscles every time I move? Every time I bump into something, I'm reminded of that stupid fall. Trust me, Hank, I know what my body is feeling better than you do!”

“I can't risk hurting you,” he reiterates, his shoulders sagging in defeat.

“I'm willing to take the chance,” she softly replies.

“I'm not,” he firmly states.

“Then take me back to New York,” she pleads, on the verge of tears. “I can't take you pushing me away any more.”

“Is this what our relationship going to be based on? Sex?” he quietly asks.

“I'm not asking for sex every second of every day, but please stop pushing me away,” she begs, her voice filled with emotional pain. “I need to have that physical connection again.”

“Again?” he queries, confused.

“After Annie got better, it was like she became my parents' whole world,” she tells him, calming only slightly. “Every little scrape or bruise was comforted with hugs and kisses. When I got hurt I was told to go wash up and try not to bleed on the carpet.”

“They weren't really that bad, were they?” he asks in concern

“Probably not, but when your seven, it sure seems like it,” she responds dejectedly. “Hank, I've spent the past twenty-four years of my life having very little physical love and then you came along. I know we've only been this close for less than a week, but it's like I've been starving for it and I never knew it until recently. Now you're telling me I can't have it any more and I don't think I can take the rejection. If you've grown tired of me so soon, please don't torment me like this. Take me back and just let it be over.”

“I haven't tired of you and I'm certainly not ready for this to be over,” he tells her as he gently pulls her into his arms. “But every time I see your injuries, I can't help but blame myself for them. You must remember what it was like the first two times we made love. I was less then gentle with you and I can't risk that I would lose control again. If there was a way that I could be sure I wouldn't hurt you or be reminded of your injuries, then I would gladly make love to you.”

She leans her head against his shoulder and he gently rubs her back, sad that he can't give her what she wants. He's at least glad that she's no longer fighting with him and with a sigh, his nose finds itself deep in her tresses again. He's only marginally aware that she hasn't relaxed against him like she normally does and as his eyes start to close, she pushes back slightly.

“Is something wrong?” he asks worriedly, not really wanting to go another round of why he will not risk hurting her.

“Were you serious when you said that we would make love if there was a way to do it without seeing my bruises or touching me?” she questions, staring him in the eye as if she's daring him to go back on his word.

“Yes, I was serious,” he answers hesitantly.

“Good, then I suggest you use the bathroom if you need it and then meet me back in the bedroom,” she says in an authoritative voice as she steps out of his embrace.

“Umm...,” he stutters, a bit stunned as she heads across the room towards the front door. “Where are you going?”

“After I get a sexual aide, I'm heading for the bedroom,” she tells him as she starts looking for something on the hooks next to the door. “By the way, where are condoms?”

“They're in one of my bags,” he replies, watching her as she pulls out her scarf. “What are you planning, my little minx?”

“You'll just have to come to the bedroom to find out, now won't you?” she teases and he can feel his blood starting to pooling in his crotch. “Which bag are the condoms in?”

“The small blue one,” he responds, his gaze never leaving her as she heads for the bedroom door.

“Good,” she says before giving him a sultry look. “If you're not going to use the bathroom, I suggest you get your furry blue butt into the bedroom.”

“I'll be right out,” he states and quickly disappears into the washroom.

By the time he makes it back into the bedroom, the little paper bag with the condoms and lube is sitting on the nightstand. He can also see that her scarf is laying across the one pillow at the head of the bed. He only casts those items a cursory glance before his gaze falls on her and he barely manages not to stumble as most of his blood starts rushing to his boxers.

She's sitting on her knees in the middle of the bed wearing the robe from last night and the way it's opened, it appears that she's wearing nothing else. She gets a knowing smirk on her face and then crooks a finger at him. He can do little else but obey and he climbs onto the bed beside her. She gives him a slow, sensual kiss that he can feel right down to his toenails and his hand seems to develop a mind of its own again as it slides through the opening in the robe.

He moans as he encounters nothing but warm, soft flesh and he knows he needs more, but he doesn't dare. With a great deal of willpower that's not being helped by a horny Beast, he breaks off their kiss. He looks into those eyes dark with desire and wants nothing more than to be able to take her right then and there.

“Amanda,” he starts but is silenced by a single finger on his lips.

“I want you to tell me if I'm hurting you or doing anything you don't like,” she instructs and he slightly frowns at her. “Promise me?”

He finally nods and she smiles as her finger slides off of his lips. He wants nothing more than to be able to suck on that escaping digit and he gets ready to chase it when suddenly she wraps her scarf around his eyes. He's startled at first, but he chuckles at her ingenuity.

“You've taken care of me seeing your injuries, my dear, but what do you intend to do about this?” he asks as the hand that wandered into the robe with her cups a breast and she gasps.

“Lie down on your back with your arms up and crossed at the wrists,” she pants as she reluctantly pulls away from him.

He pouts slightly at the loss of contact, but does as she tells him. Once he's comfortably lying down the way she wants him to, she straddles his chest and her heady scent sends Beast into a frenzy. So concerned is he with his primal half's behavior, that he barely notices her loosely wrapping something soft and silky around his wrists and her torso barely an inch above his face.

MATE! Beast screams in his head. CUBS! WANT CUBS! MATE NOW!

He takes a deep breath and he finally comprehends what's got it so worked up. Her smell has intensified and now he understands her need for love making. He groans in agony as the combination of her scent and Beast's antics make it nearly impossible to just lie still.

“Am I hurting you?” she asks in concern, pausing in tying off his hands.

“No, my love,” he moans as he pushes himself down into the mattress. “You're ovulating.”

“Oookaaay,” she says, confusion evident in her voice.

“Beast has decided it wants cubs,” he tells her and he can feel the heat of her body radiating onto his face.

“Cubs?” she questions.

“Children,” he clarifies, resisting the urge to start nibbling on the flesh above him. “It wants children and I sincerely doubt that it will be overly happy when you put the condom on me.”

NO! Beast shrieks. WANT CUBS!

“So I guess me spending hours driving you crazy is out of the question, isn't it?” she teases while she sits back up and he nearly moans as her body moves out of his lips reach.

“I can't recommend it,” he replies shakily, trying to keep a crazed Beast at bay.

“Then I guess I better get to work,” she purrs just before her lips start to drive him insane.