Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Wren! The rest belongs to Marvel! I make no money off of any of this; I do it for the love!
Story summary: I got tired of Hank being alone in the comics all the time, they keep dangling true love in front of him and snatching it away, so I gave him a girl, because Trish whatshername couldn't stand by her man. And because Hank/Bobby slash is just not cool in my opinion. It's just a respect thing I have for Stan Lee's creations.
Author's notes: This is rated M for graphic discussions of sexual content in later chapters. Think sex ed rather than "dear penthouse forum".
The day the music died was a Tuesday.
I was on the bus going to work when the aforementioned music died.
See, I was listening to the best of the Rolling Stones when my ipod crashed on me, and I was forced to endure the rest of the bus ride to Worthington Industries where I worked as one of many secretaries in the hallowed halls of the accounting department. I was a part of a small, obscure section of the corporation's fiance department that dealt with some of our CEO's more sensitive investments, such as mutant rights projects and funding for mutants in need.
When I got the promotion, I had to go through a million background checks, but on the upside, the corporation handles my taxes for free, so long as I give up most of my financial freedom (and explaining to a room full of dower business men why I had to buy that "novelty item" from the adult website is not a conversation any single 24 year old woman should have to do). But the perks far outweighed the downfalls, crazy Christmas bonuses, limos home if we had to work past 10pm, three weeks of vacation every year (and being fabulously single, I have spent the last two Christmases/New Years in Argentina and Bali respectfully, this year, it's Greece. Just me, the beach, and a bottle of booze.)
I know I sound like some alcoholic sex addict, but honestly, my job is intensely stressful, especially since I'm the only non-mutant working in my department I'm constantly being scrutinized for being even the slightest bit anti-mutant, which I'm not. So when I need to unwind a little, I tend to take it rather seriously. The big man himself, Warren Worthington the Third had the tendency to drop by a couple times a week to make sure we were guiding his investments properly since the discovery that some of the investors were putting company money into a place called X-Ranch through one of my colleagues (who shall remain nameless, but that incident made me the only non-mutant in my department).
When I finally reached the headquarters, I hopped off the bus into a warm spring Manhattan day, and I pushed my way into the lobby, my pumps clicking tastefully across the marble floor as I showed security my ID card and hopped the first elevator that became available. Just as the doors slid shut, one of my associates called out.
"Hey Wren, hold the elevator!" Bobby Drake called out and I stuck my white and oxblood secretary heel into the closing doors which bounced open gently and I stepped aside. "Thanks Wren, you're a life saver."
"Anytime Bobby," I grinned back.
"So Warren is coming down to go over the finances for the Xavier Institute fundraiser coming up," Bobby said lightly, and I looked at him, confused.
"I know, I set up the meeting, I'll be there this morning too," I replied. I had to go to the party, I was one of the managers of the event, so my presence would be all work and no play. But at least Professor Xavier was kind enough to give me a room to stay in for the weekend, since Bobby and Warren were residents.
"Well-umm-I was wondering if you were going with anyone," Bobby mumbled, and I turned to look at him for a moment. Even in pumps he had a few inches on me, and today I felt particularly sexy in my black pencil skirt and ivory blouse with the scarlet embroidery of a sparrow on a tree branch. So his suddenly asking me to a work function threw me off my groove enough that I almost fell over backwards.
"I-umm, well no, I'm not going with anyone, I have to work that night," I said, suddenly feeling out of my league. I had seen him down in the company pool one day doing laps and I couldn't help but stare at his chiseled physique as I got ready for my own swim. His words sent the flash threw my head and I had to savagely push them aside.
"Not all night, come on, I know the schedule just like you do, you show up early to orchestrate the set-up, and stay after to make sure everything gets cleaned up, except for handling minor problems during the event, you're free as a bird, why don't you go as my date? You'll already be spending the weekend at the Institute, might as well enjoy it," Bobby said, giving me a rakish grin.
For the life of me I couldn't think of a reason to say no, so I forced myself to say yes. "Alright Bobby, sure, I'll be your date."
"Great, hey, how are you getting to the Institute anyway?" He asked as the numbers of the floors steadily pushed towards the fiftieth floor.
"I'm not sure, I think I was going to take the train out to Salem Center and then get a cab to the Institute, I still have a month to figure it out," I said thoughtfully.
"Hey, why don't I drive you back to the school that Friday night after work?" Bobby asked, suddenly enthusiastic.
"I-I can't," I said, suddenly realizing that I had a solid reason all of a sudden. "I have to pick up my dress from the tailors, I've been having fittings for this dinner like crazy and the tailor said it'd be ready that Friday night, so I have to go and pick it up."
"We can go together, I'll even wait while you try it on," Bobby said with an easy smile.
"Oh yeah? Okay then, if it's alright with Professor Xavier," I said, smiling back.
"I'll ask him tonight and let you know tomorrow," Bobby replied brightly.
When we arrived on our floor, Bobby headed for his mailbox while I began the journey through the endless cubicles towards our somewhat hidden door and when I pushed inside, I stared in horror at Warren Worthington himself standing in the main foyer, his crisp white shirt and wings contrasting handsomely with his blue skin.
"Oh my goodness, am I late?" I asked, suddenly alarmed.
"Not at all, I came down to check something, but I don't seem to have the keys to get into the records room," he said, looking almost sheepish.
"Huh? Oh, right," I said, putting my handbag down on my desk, I unlocked a desk drawer and pulled it open, removing a set of keys, I swept past the angel with cool efficiency and unlocked the door to the records room, allowing him to peruse the hard files to his hearts content.
While he did that, I started up my Mac and logged onto Worthington Industries network and opened up my emails, sending off a few replies, I made a couple phone calls, and when Bobby came in, he winked at me and dropped my mail on my desk. Smiling a thanks, I confirmed a meeting for one of the women in my department, named Harriet, and then got ready for the meeting, which, miraculously, everyone was on time for.
"Alright, so we're holding the fundraising event in the main ballroom of the Xavier Institute, there will be tables outside on the patio, and inside around the ball room floor," Warren began, looking over the catering files.
"Yes, the catering company has been approved for both quality of food and budget, the flower arrangements have already been purchased, no fragrant flowers at the tables, and there will be a 16 piece orchestra playing 1940's jazz, the classics, Frank Sinatra, Nat King Cole, Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald. The doors open at 6:30, and run till midnight," I said smoothly, laying out the actual event information, and from there we moved onto pay schedules and by the end of it, I had a neat little list of things to take care of.
When I left work that night, Bobby and I slumped down the empty cubes towards the elevator, and I gave serious thought to taking a cab back to my apartment on the Upper West Side. But instead opted for the subway, my new party dress had cost a handsome chunk of change.
"Up to anything tonight?" Bobby asked.
"It's 9:30, the only thing I'm doing is ordering Chinese and watching old television reruns of 'I Love Lucy'," I said, leaning against the wall, my usual grace and verve had abandoned me in the face of a long day at the helm and I was looking forward to turning my brain off for a while.
When we reached the lobby, we bid each other goodnight, and I hopped on the subway and made my slow way home.
The next few weeks were filled with meetings, phone calls, countless hours spent running all over Manhattan, and finally, (finally!) the weekend of the event was upon us. Aside from myself, only Bobby was attending the event out of all the people in our department.
The night before I was due to go up to Westchester with Bobby, I my hair and nails done, and I picked up my shoes from the cobbler before heading to the diamond district to get my grandmother's diamond necklace and earrings from the jewelers where they were being cleaned. When I got back to my apartment, I got down my weekender bag, luggage locks and train case for my make-up and packed my things. My pajamas and several changes of clothes went into the traveling case along with the jewelry, hosiery, and shoes. Into my train case went shampoo, conditioner, blow dryer, curling iron, hundreds of bobby pins, yards of ribbon, and an enormous amount of hairspray, on top of the bottomless pit of make-up I kept around for any and all occasions.
Placing it by the door, I collapsed into bed and prepared myself for the weekend to end all weekends.
The next morning I showered, dressed, and wheeled my things down to the corner where I caught a cab to work. The day went by normally enough until 4pm when Warren's shadow darkened my desk, and he told me and Bobby to leave early, since I still had to get my dress. Leaving my bags in Bobby's car trunk, we left the garage and took the subway downtown to the tailor where I slipped into the fitting room and emerged several minutes later in a nude organza dress in an interior space where I stood while my female tailor busied herself. The bodice hugged my body severely, one strap went over my shoulder with a fall of ivory fabric that hung in artful tatters. The skirt flared low on my hips in endless layered ruffles of organza, making me look as though I was a shipwrecked mermaid, and when I saw myself, tears sprang to my eyes. I had never felt more beautiful. The skin tight bodice showed none of my flaws, and paired with the mad drama of my skirt and the tatters of fabric over my shoulder only emphasized my waifish features. My thin face, ice blue eyes, and white blonde hair. Despite that, I had a supremely feminine figure, full hips and large breasts, and a confidence that probably terrified more men than it emboldened. I suddenly remembered one of Alexander McQueen's quotes "I like to make clothing that make women seen strong, so strong that it almost turns the people around them off".
I was supremely grateful to my seamstress who looked at me and said firmly. "Wear grey eyeshadow."
When the dress was lovingly hung inside not one, but two garment bags, I dressed into my other clothes and went out to pay for it.
When I was done, I turned to face Bobby who had a slightly glazed look, despite being in the shop for only 15 minutes, and we headed back to work where my dress was hung in the back of the car, and we set off for Salem Center together.
An hour later and we pulled up in front of a gorgeous Dutch colonial mansion with a long graceful driveway and a statue of a phoenix in the front drive. Climbing out of the car, I retrieved my dress and two bags and followed Bobby in through the front door.
"Oh, hi Hank, hi Logan," Bobby said brightly, then turned, motioning to me. "This is Wren, she's orchestrating the event this weekend."
"Hi, it's nice to meet you," I said, smiling broadly at them.
"What are you doing, at least offer to take her bags," Logan growled, but when he tried to take my dress, I snatched it back out of his grasp.
"It's one of a kind, based on an Alexander McQueen, no one is touching it except for me, and these two cases are just as valuable. I appreciate the chivalry, but this is my burden to bear," I explained, and returned the man's gazed as he reassessed me and nodded approvingly.
"Come on Wren, let's get you settled before dinner," Bobby said, dragging me up the stairs while I struggled with my bags.
Finally we were standing inside of a simple guest room with an adjoining bathroom. I hung the dress in the closet before turning to Bobby.
"Thanks for having me come up early, this is fantastic Bobby, really," I said, smiling widely.
"Dinner's in an hour, go on and get settled and I'll come and get you," Bobby grinned before shutting the door behind him.
I took my time unpacking, and changed out of my work clothes into a pair of jeans and an old t-shirt I took my train case into the bathroom and unpacked it before turning to stare at the room-sized shower stall in appreciation, and promised myself a long hot shower before bed tonight. I put my meager clothes in the dresser and put my shoes next to the door. By the time Bobby came to retrieve me I was happily tucked into my room and I followed him down the long and winding halls until we came to the kitchen and Bobby pushed through the door ahead of me. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Warren talking to a woman with white hair and he smiled when he saw me.
"Everyone, this is Wren Gerard, she'll be running the shindig this weekend. Wren, this is Ororo, Remy, Scott, Jean, Emma, Kitty, Piotr, Professor Xavier and you know Warren, Logan and Hank," Bobby introduced and I smiled at them nervously.
"It's very nice to meet all you, thank you for putting me up for the weekend," I said gracefully.
"You're very welcome, please, won't you join us?" Professor Xavier asked, and I nodded, taking a seat at the table between Warren and Bobby.
Everyone was welcoming and kind, and by the end of dinner, I felt like I had found my way home. When we retired to the living room, I settled myself into a wing back chair with a mug of warm tea, and felt, for a moment, something like a buzzing at the outskirts of my mind, and I serenely studied the people in the room around me until my eyes fell onto the professors and I smiled at him, and he smiled back appreciatively.
"Tell us. . . Wren, is that right?" The professor asked courteously, and I nodded.
"Yup, Wren, just like the bird," I replied easily.
"How'd you get a name like that?" Logan asked curiously, and I started laughing.
"My mother was pregnant with me when she saw 'Footloose', so she named me after Kevin Bacon's character," I answered, laughing at their faces.
"How. . . quaint," Emma said coolly, her eyebrows raised, and I shrugged affably.
"So tell us Wren, have you had much experience with mutants?" Xavier asked, and I suddenly found myself under close scrutiny once again.
"Just at work, with Bobby and Mr. Worthington and some of my other co-workers," I replied, staring into my tea.
"Please Wren, call me Warren," Warren said gently, and I felt oddly touched by that.
"Do you have mutants in your family?" the professor continued, but I shook my head.
"I don't know, I never really knew my family," I answered honestly. "I lived with my aunt, but she never really cared for me, so I brought myself up. If I have anyone in my family that's gifted in that capacity, she never told me."
"Are you a mutant?" Hank asked curiously.
"Nope, 24 and never showed any inclination," I replied comfortably.
"There are late-in-life mutants," Hank responded. "Some people don't even experience their mutations until their twenties, thirties, even forties."
"If I'm one of them, it hasn't become apparent yet," I said.
The conversation changed after that, but throughout the night, I kept hearing an odd buzzing on the outskirts of my mind. But those thoughts were banished from my memory when I returned to my room and crawled under the pounding shower head, changing the jet so that it almost hurt as it pounded against my skin before I crawled into bed and collapsed naked between the sheets.
The next morning I dressed in a pair of black cotton pedal pushes, a green tank top and a grey shrug. Stuffing my feet into plastic flip flops, I waddled downstairs, carefully following the map the professor had given me until I found the ballroom and pulled open the doors. Flicking on the lights, I stared at the bags over the chandeliers to keep the dust off them and then went to open the patio doors to air the space out.
Over the next few hours I supervised the cleaning and arranging of the furniture, where the band would be stationed. I saw to the setting up of the tables and centerpieces and everything else imaginable. At 3pm, when everything was set to go, I told the band where to set up, and the caterers were preparing in the kitchen, I snuck away to my bedroom after leaving Warren in charge to do my hair and make-up.
On my way, I ran into Bobby and told him I would meet him at the party, and then stole away to my room.
When I got there, I undressed quickly and found myself staring at an odd rash on my thighs before I shrugged it off, chalking it up to nerves as I went about my ablutions.
Three and a half hours later I emerged, a vision in my dress, with my eyes outlined in stormy grey clouds and my lips were a dark purple ichor. The contrast to the dress and my skin was startling, and in the end, I decided to wear my grandmother's earrings, but not the necklace.
As I approached the ball room, I could hear music playing, and I stopped in a nestled corner to catch my breath.
"Okay cookie," I muttered to myself. "Let's rock and roll."
The main entrance to the ballroom was by a set of stairs that lead out onto the dance floor and I walked through the main entrance, pausing at the top of the stairs and watched as the entire room slowly turned to regard me for a moment, standing at the top of the stairs in my finery. The only sound was a glass of champagne dropping. The room was silent save for the band playing "At Last" by Etta James as I descended the stairs.
I saw Bobby standing with Hank and Logan and I crossed the floor to him, taking his hand and leading him out onto the dance floor, moving with ease and passion to the music and enjoying the feel of his hands on my body through the dress.
"Oh Wren, you look-you look," he finished lamely.
"You look handsome too," I smiled back as we danced, and I smiled as other couples joined us on the floor. Scott and Jean danced by, and even Hank and Emma as we twirled across the floor, my dress catching and twirling with the air currents as we moved. We danced for another hour, talking and laughing until we found our way to our seats as Warren stood up to make his speech. While he prattled on about the importance of mutant rights and funding, Hank and I were carrying on a conversation about Darwinism and mutant genetics softly, laughing at articles we had read in science journals and discussing the finer points of dominant and recessive genes in mutants while Bobby looked on, seemingly flummoxed until Warren's speech ended and I turned back to him, diffusing his frustration easily with a friendly joke.
But despite my efforts at being a good friend and date to Bobby, Hank and I kept coming back to one another until after dinner when he asked me to dance. We moved across the floor with ease and I tried to ignore the terrible scratching pain that the dress was producing in my legs until-
"Wren, are you-did you-I think you had an accident," Hank said, and I pulled away from him as shame flashed across my cheeks, but I hadn't wet myself, my entire dress, front and back from the waist down was soaked, and then a wad of skin hit the dance floor next to my right foot and I shrieked, took a step back and fell to the floor, suddenly unable to support my own weight.
"What's that on her back!" A woman behind me screamed, and I looked up at Hank in a panic.
"What's what on my back?" I asked as tears slipped over my cheeks. "What's happening to me?"
I watched as Hank turned from a man into a doctor, gently easing my skirt up to the knees, not letting me see the damage, but the surrounding people cursed and made dark noises, but Hank simply lifted me off of the parquet floor and carried me from the ball room with speed.
I clung to him fearfully as he carried me down into the recesses of the house, and he carefully undressed me as Warren and Bobby joined us a moment later.
"Bobby, go get Jean," Hank instructed firmly.
"But-" Bobby began.
"GO!" I roared, afraid and hurting.
"These buds on her back," Warren breathed. "They're the beginnings of wings, she has hours of labor ahead of her by the looks of them."
Jean came hustling in.
"We need to get her undressed," Hank said, and Warren immediately began to undo the delicate hook and eye fastenings on my dress.
"Get out, I don't need you or Bobby seeing me naked, we work together," I said desperately.
"She's right Warren, this is going to be hard enough without her worrying about her job," Hank said, pushing Warren and Bobby out the door while Jean began to undo the delicate fastenings.
Ten minutes later my dress sat stained on another bed, but largely out of harms way as Hank and Jean cleaned off the debris and dust that had accumulated in the pooling lymph on my legs. The pain was unearthly, but I was terrified, so no matter what I did, I was basically screwed.
When they finished cleaning off my legs, Hank and Jean wrapped my legs and feet in clean white gauze.
"Take these Wren, it's going to be a long night," Hank said, handing me two chalky white pills which I popped for the pain and allowed myself to be turned onto my stomach.
As I slept, the two small buds on my back grew in size, but the opiates had knocked me out and when I woke, roaring into life from the pain, I heard my two guides in this ordeal come hustling into the room.
I tried to breath into the pain while I worried about what was happening to me.
As the night progressed the pain grew worse until I was soaked with sweat and gripping my headboard while sitting on my knees, screaming every time a wave of pain hit me. I felt less like a person and more like an animal, determined to go to ground, determined to die without a soul noticing, a hard thing to accomplish as I was under constant surveillance.
Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes I let out another maddening scream, turning my voice to gravel as I begged for salvation.
Huffing and panting between spasms, I bent my head against my forearm, exhausted from a labor that showed no signs of ending. Occasionally the hard nubs on my back would twitch, growing bigger. The skin on my legs screamed with sensitivity where they rubbed against the gauze. For my part I had abandoned all hope at decorum and wiped my streaming eyes and nose on the pillow case.
"Okay cookie, somewhere in this is a silver lining," I said and the pain toned down enough for me to wonder for a fleeting minute if I could handle getting some water before another pain took me, exorcizing any thought that I could somehow ease my suffering in all of this.
When the next wave of pain subsided, Jean pressed a glass of cool water against my lips, and I drank deeply, preparing for the worst.
Another wave hit me and I pressed my head forward into the bed, screaming madly while Hank tenderly felt the area around the masses on my back while Jean spoke gentle words and lied to me that it would all be over soon.
"Wren," Hank said gently. "I have some news for you. You're going to be getting wings, and some new legs by the looks of it. But don't worry, I'll be here to help you through it. You're going to live, but right now I need you to rest."
I managed to snag a few hours of broken sleep, and when I woke I found Hank cleaning my feet and I stared for a terrible, long moment at the place where my toe nails had once been and I began to cry in horror, clawing desperately at my chest, I almost fell off the bed and had to be restrained and sedated.
When I woke up next the pain in my back was white hot and I gasped, grabbing my stomach in one hand and my headboard with the other, the metal bed frame was cool to the touch and I screamed and cursed, pushing into the pain until I felt blood running in rivulets down my back and I stared up at the lit ceiling, as sweat and blood ran down my skin, turning into rivers between my shoulder blades and breasts. My legs and feet screamed in agony and for one long horrified moment I hung suspended in a moment of pure decision. I could kill myself from exhaustion, or I could live, and I forced myself to breath, forced myself to take some of the proffered water and I stared ahead waited. I knew the final moment was coming soon and I patiently waiting for it, trying hard not to snap at the people standing on either side of me and keeping me upright.
A moment later a terrible pain consumed me whole and I screamed, bending forward as a terrible crackling sound filled the room and my wings broke free from my body, arcing blood across the walls and ceiling as they shook free from my body.
I cowered on the bed, whimpering in fear as Hank tenderly cleaned me off, clucking gently as he wrapped the base of my wings in gauze to stem the bleeding. And then, finally, I was allowed to lie down, for a few moments, in the ruin of my evolution.
I slept for much of the next few days. I couldn't move, couldn't go anywhere or do anything. I couldn't even make it to the bathroom on my own and had to use a bedpan. I won't go into details about this period of my life. It wasn't pretty, frankly it put a serious dent in my self-esteem having to rely on other people for things like food and the bathroom.
One night, after Hank left me for the night, when I was alone in the bowels of the Xavier Institute, I began to cry, softly at first, then I began to keen like an animal. I was in constant pain, slow and saturating pain, and I hated myself, hated myself for being weak, hated myself for needing these people, and mostly I hated myself for feeling so lonely through all of this. I laid there, screaming out my pain in the basement, unable to move, I cried so hard I couldn't breath and snot ran down my nose and tears fell hot and salty down my cheeks.
I heard the door to the infirmary open and I saw someone come in through the shadows. "Wren, what's going-"
"Don't hurt me!" I screamed, falling gracelessly off the bed. My wings fluttered uselessly against my back while my bandaged feet struggled to find purchase on the slippery steel floor. I skittered back until I hit the wall and I could feel blood well against my wing joints, soaking the bandages and leaving behind a streak of crimson blood.
"Wren, it's Hank, it's okay, take it easy, everything's going to be alright," he soothed, slowly inching his way forward.
I shook my head frantically. "No it's not! I don't have skin on my legs, and my wings aren't feathered, they should be feathered, but instead I have-dragon wings! I don't even have toe nails! This isn't evolving, I'm turning back into a lizard, going back into the ocean!"
"Oh, oh Wren," Hank murmured. "You're not going back into the ocean, you're going to soar through the skies."
"Yes," I wept bitterly. "Like a pterodactyl!"
"No, like a legend," Hank said which such finality that I looked up at him, my self-loathing forgotten for a piercingly clean moment of clarity. He took another step forward, crouching down he reached out to touch me and I tried to pull away, leaving behind another crimson stain. "You are a champion Wren. You've lost your physical humanity, but you are still the same person inside, the same intelligence, the same sense of humor, no matter what you look like that will never taken away from you Wren, no matter what. You will always be human, even if you doing fly through the sky."
"I used to be so proud of what I looked like, and now I'm just. . . bereft Hank. I can't find the strength to overcome this," I said, feeling so lost.
"Have you seen your wings yet Wren?" Hank suddenly asked.
I looked at him for a long moment. "W-what?"
"Have you seen your wings yet?" Hank asked again patiently.
I took a breath and then let it out. "N-no."
Before I could move, Hank lifted me up in his powerful arms and carried me across the hall and set me down on a high chair which he rolled into his lab. Against one long wall was a series of mirrors. Flicking on the light, I sat there and stared at myself for a long moment.
Despite the angry purple circles under my eyes, I was still the same person. Same pale white skin, same long, curly white blonde hair, same ice blue eyes, same wide thin mouth. I still had the same thin face and abnormally long neck that perched on slender shoulders and gave way to my torso and legs. But there, just over my shoulder, were a pair of pale green wings, smooth and muscular with the delicate sinewy bones underneath.
Hank tenderly lifted one of my wings and pulled it out to it's full length, almost 8 feet. I gasped, and then whipped my head around and looked, really looked at my wings for the first time. It was like meeting my kid for the first time, kind of strange and surreal but supremely welcome and amazing and I had no idea how I had ever lived without them before.
I lifted a hand to touch them, and then drew my hand away, afraid they would vanish if I did. But eventually I worked up the courage and they felt smooth and warm to the touch, and I gasp and choked for a moment.
"T-these are mine?" I finally asked.
"All yours," Hank said, gently rearranging my wing before rebandaging them.
"Forever?" I breathed.
"Forever and ever," Hank replied, and when he finished, I whipped around on the stool and threw myself at him, holding him against me in an enormous bear hug.
"Thank you Hank," I said, leaning my head back and gazing into his eyes.
"You did all the work," he said, smiling and showing his canids.
"You kept me sane," I replied with an adventurous smile, and then I leaned forward and kissed him tenderly on the mouth. When I pulled away Hank was studying me with a mixture of shock and happiness, and then he leaned in and kissed me deeply.
He felt immensely real to me, the feel of fur under my hands was strangely surreal, but the brush of his claws against my sides through the thin hospital gown felt good, despite my considerable bruising. His tongue against mine was immensely human, and I lost myself in that kiss. When he released me my breathing hitched, and he looked bruised for a moment.
"I'm sorry, it's just, it's been so long, and that was woooow," I said breathlessly and Hank threw back his head and roared with laughter.
"Would you like to sit outside and see the stars?" Hank asked gently. "It's a full moon."
"Okay, but I want to put on some more clothes otherwise there's gonna be two full moons tonight," I said blithely.
One change into scrubs later, I found myself sitting outside on an adirondack bench under a blanket with Hank, who was furry, and therefore immensely warm.
We sat out there for hours pointing out constellations to one another until we fell asleep. We were woken hours later by Logan, getting ready for his tai chi class on on the lawn.
"You two forget where you were? This ain't no hotel," Logan growled, and we slinked off into back to the infirmary to change my bandages and see how my legs were doing.
When Hank unwrapped the bandages, we gazed in awe at the little, pale jade green scales that were slowly forming on my legs and feet. Even toenails had begun to grow back in, except now I had talons on my feet instead of regular toenails. After washing my legs and feet, we let them air dry and while I sat there waiting to be rewrapped, Bobby and Warren came in and wandered over to study my legs.
"I'm sorry I've been missing so much work," I said to Warren. "I'll make it up, I promise, late nights, weekends, the works."
"Actually, we were thinking that perhaps your place would be better suited here at the mansion with the kids," Bobby said brightly.
"I-what?" Was all I could think of to say.
"At the Hampton's party for two years running, you've played my piano and sang, and we do need a music teacher," Warren said, this was a job offer that was bringing me up short.
"But I'm not a teacher. I just kinda wade into the fray," I said thoughtfully.
"Professor Xavier thought it might be a good idea," Bobby said. "But you could really mean something to these kids since your-"
"Since my what?" I demanded to know, my voice rising the octave.
"I think perhaps the both of you should leave," Hank began.
"No, I want to know what Bobby means," I railed. "I'm having a hard enough time coming to terms with this, I don't want to be treated like some damned mascot!"
"Wren, open your eyes, you're a grown woman," Bobby yelled. "There are kids here, girls who feel exactly the same way you do, except they've been that way since birth. If you can get your act together, you can prove to them that there's more to life than hiding themselves!"
That shut me up. He was right, there were people here who had it much worse off than I did. Not everyone's mutation manifested in a place where mutants were taken care of and protected.
I let the silence lengthen to an almost uncomfortable point, then I sighed. "Can I think about it?"
"Take all the time you need," Warren said gently, berating Bobby for his attitude towards me as they left the room.
Hank didn't say a word to me, just left me to my own thoughts. When Hank came back into the room, I asked him for a wheelchair.
I made my way out of the basement by myself, my legs carefully wrapped in a blanket. I wheeled slowly along the corridors of the hall, pausing every now and again to watch the kids, laughing, running, playing with one another. When I reached the back patio, I stopped my journey, and sat watching the kids on the basketball court, smiling as they used their mutant powers to play.
I was so absorbed in my observation that I didn't even realize Professor Xavier had come up behind me.
"May I introduce you to someone?" He asked gently. I looked over at him, in his own wheelchair, studying me intently.
"Okay," I said, my voice cracking like a twelve year old boys. I followed the professor up to the second floor of the mansion, and he lead me into a section of the house that wasn't visible from the outside. When we reached a solid oak door, he stopped.
"Don't be alarmed when you meet Agatha, she's really quite sweet," Xavier said, and before I could do anything, he pushed the door open. Lying inside on the bed was a girl with no hair. She had a clean, glistening white skull cap, and an empty eye socket. Save for the skin and cartilage that covered the right side of her face, giving her a nose and most of a mouth, her entire body was glistening white bone, the calcium of her bone was up in enormous peaks of armored solidarity. For a moment, I was struck dumb, but she smiled at me, her one brown eye twinkling in the light.
"Agatha, this is Wren, I thought that the two of you might enjoy getting acquainted. Wren might be joining the school as a music teacher," the professor explained.
"Oh wow, we need a music teacher," the girl said. "Especially the younger kids, music feeds your soul," Agatha said brightly as the professor withdrew, leaving us alone.
When he was gone, the girl sighed sadly, and I wheeled up next to her.
"Are you okay?" I asked her hesitantly.
"I'm just tired of having to stay in this bed all the time," she said sadly.
"Why can't you leave?" I asked gently, resting my forearms on her bed.
"I don't have muscles or ligaments to support my legs," she said.
I stopped, even stuttered a moment on that one. "So what?"
She shot me a look. "Well, look at me!"
"Yes, look at you!" I crowed loudly. "You're fabulous! You're the only girl who'll never have to worry about maintaining her figure! Your rib cage is armored, so you don't have to worry about anything injuring or damaging your internal organs."
She stared at me wide-eyed.
"Look, I'll make a deal with you," I finally said. "I'll let you sit in my wheelchair, and we can take a walk down to the music room and I'll give you a singing lesson, if you still don't feel comfortable by the end of the hour, you can cloister yourself back up in here all you want."
Agatha regarded me for a long moment. "One hour?"
"Give or take a few minutes," I replied.
"O-okay, but can you walk?" She asked, concern etched on her face.
"I have enough on the soles of my feet that if I hold onto the wheelchair it should be fine," I replied.
Ten minutes of scrabbling followed where I managed to get me out of the chair, Agatha into it, and ourselves out into the hallway without killing or injuring ourselves too badly. I walked very slowly down the hall towards the elevator, a journey that took two minutes now took ten. When we reached the first floor, I walked Agatha slowly out into the hall and looked around.
"I don't know where the music room is," I admitted. "So we're going to find it."
I began walking slowly down the hall while Agatha looked around us nervously. My feet hurt a little bit, but my slow pace more than compensated and when we turned a corner, I nearly ran over Logan.
"Wren, Agatha, what are you two doing out of bed?" He asked, chomping on the butt of his cigar and eyeing us closely.
"Music lesson, just trying to find a piano," I said as Logan moved out of the way and we resumed our slow search.
"End of the west wing, come on, I'll take ya," Logan said, and joined our little party.
About halfway down the hall, our journey was stopped, again, when an Asian girl in a bright yellow trench coat jumped out of no where, nearly blowing the three of us over.
"Hi, wow, are you new to Xavier's?" The girl asked Agatha, nearly jumping up and down. "I'm Jubilee, what's your name?"
"Agatha, and I'm not new, I've been here a few months," Agatha replied shyly.
"Then why haven't we ever seen you?" Jubilee demanded, her hands planted firmly on her narrow hips.
"Oh well," she began.
"Don't tell me you were embarrassed by the way you look! Come on, my friends and I were just about to grab lunch, why don't you join us?" She asked merrily, and Agatha leaned her head back to look at me.
"It's okay, go and spend time with the other kids," I said, passing my wheelchair off to Jubilee while I eased myself down onto a chair in the hall.
"You okay?" Logan asked, crouching down in front of me.
"Oh, yeah, just a little tired," I said into my hands.
"I saw what you did for Agatha, she hasn't left her room since she got here, and all of us have tried," Logan said. "But you're the first to pull it off."
"Maybe it's easier coming from someone who looks like they do," I said baldly, then. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."
"I know Wren, and it is, especially when it's coming from someone whose obviously still evolving," Logan said, catching my arms and drawing me carefully to my feet. We made our slow way back down the hall towards the elevator, and half an hour later when we made it into the infirmary, we found Professor Xavier and Hank talking with one another.
"I see your mission was a success," Xavier said, smiling broadly.
"Yeah, she's with Jubilee now," I replied, sighing as Logan helped me onto the bed.
"Wren, I know your feeling a little tender right now, but you could really help these kids," Xavier said.
"It's not that I don't want too, it's just that Warren has all but said I can't go back to my job. Maybe it's because besides him I'd be the only outwardly physical mutant besides him in the company, but I just wish he'd be straight with me," I said, finally giving voice to the anger I had been sitting on since that morning.
"I think Warren is trying to protect you Wren. You live in the City don't you, on the Upper West Side?" Xavier asked, and I nodded mutely, wondering where this was going. "Many mutants get attacked just by walking down the street, they get sent package bombs, and are physically, sexually and emotionally harassed constantly. By coming here and working with the kids, you'd be safe and out of harms way and be giving back to the community."
For a moment I flashed on myself two years earlier, a positive sex activist and educator working in one of premiere toy shops in Manhattan while I worked my way through college where I was studying music and art. I remembered how good it felt, how empowered I was to take ownership of my body. I had given lectures on pleasure anatomy and how to escape partner abuse. I had given back all through college, but when I started working for Worthington Industries, I had stopped all that. Of course, this was also an aspect of my life that my boss and co-workers were woefully unaware of.
And suddenly, I felt the need to come clean.
"Can we talk about the position? Alone?" I asked, sitting up straight and trying hard to ignore the measuring look Hank was giving my back.
"Of course," Xavier said, looking thrown off by my ferocity.
Up in his office, I sat there for a long moment, staring at the rain that had begun to fall outside.
"Community is a really funny thing," I said. "I never really had a family, so wherever I went, my community became that family. Back in college, I needed a job, so I wound up doing the last thing I ever thought I would do. I worked in an upscale boutique selling sex toys. This wasn't in one of those scuzzy places in Midtown, it was down in Tribeca, on a little side street. All warm wood and clean lines inside. I got really good at my job. So good, in fact, that I began speaking at universities around the city under a false name. I worked with other survivors of partner abuse, both as a counselor and an empowerer. I taught pleasure anatomy, and helped couples and individuals find their own ways back to better intimacy with their bodies and their partners bodies. I know that I would never be teaching any of this to the kids. Lord knows that's something that should go without saying. But I need you to understand that that is the root of my teaching experience. It wasn't some class I took in college, it was working out in the world with people of all different kinds of identifications, and I loved doing it."
The emotions that crossed the professor's face were rich stuff, and I expected to be thrown out onto my ass, but instead he surprised me.
"Emma Frost on staff is a train sex therapist Wren. And I'm sure the two of you will be delighted to teach sex ed together. I don't have any problem with how you got your experience, so long as you don't bring it into the classroom with the children. Warren says you studied music and art in school?" Xavier said, and I almost laughed out loud as the ease with which he accepted my past.
"Yes, I did a double major in performance, I play the piano and sing, and I studied art history," I explained. "I graduated from NYU with honors."
"That is most impressive, perhaps you'd be willing to take up several classes then," the professor suggested. "Sex ed, art history, and chorus."
"I-I'd be delighted too," I said, oddly touched by the offer.
There came a knock on the door behind us, and Warren poked his head in. "This a bad time? I was hoping we could talk business."
"Of course," Xavier replied easily, and I watched the familiar sight of Warren move from friend to businessman.
"Now, Worthington Industries will continue to pay your salary," Warren began, but I stopped him.
"No, if I'm working here in a capacity as a teacher, then we'll be working along side one another as equals, I don't want you to have that kind of control over me since we'll both be on the same ground," I replied firmly.
"How much is your salary?" Xavier asked, steepling his hands.
"55 grand a year," I replied. "With full medical benefits."
"I can match that, and offer hazard pay," Xavier said, and I felt the blood rush out of my head.
"Hazard pay?" I asked weakly.
"Yes, the mansion is a bit of a target at times," he replied easily.
"Oh, umm, well, okay," I said.
"Room and board, will of course be included in your work packet," he continued on easily. "And you'll have regular training sessions with Logan."
"I'm kinda broken, I don't really do well with high physical activity," I said, laughing at the thought.
But the two men just stared at me unyieldingly and I felt miles in over my head.
"I was in an accident a couple years ago, got thrown into a tree, almost broke my back, right hip and thigh, now I have residual weakness that won't go away. And I ruptured one of the muscles for balance in my right foot, so I can't walk a straight line either, medically speaking," I admitted slowly.
"And you thought not to tell Hank this during all your time with him in the infirmary?" Warren asked, and my back straightened.
"It had no bearing on the situation," I said coolly.
"We're getting off topic here," Xavier said in soothing tones. "Logan will work on building up your strength and healing your hip as far as you can go. And Warren will see to your flight lessons once you've healed. We'll move you into a larger suite of rooms here, and send Bobby and Jean to pick up your things from your apartment."
"Okay," I said, dropping my keys on his desk.
"You can look at everything when it arrives and decide what you'd like to do with everything," Xavier said, dismissing us moments later. Left alone in the hall, I stopped, suddenly caught in a moment of self-loathing and a sense of restlessness that I couldn't smother. I turned and started jogging through the halls before I broke out into a run. I could feel the delicate scales rubbing against each other on my legs as they shifted and bled, but I didn't care. I just ran, pushing out of the mansion as fast as I could, unable to stop the flow of tears as my life fell to pieces all around me.
I ran past Logan and Hank who were walking towards me as I sprinted towards the tree line of the woods, stripping off the flimsy hospital gown as I ran, pressing into the woods wearing nothing more than my panties and bra and bandages. I ran until I thought my lungs would burst open, and when my foot connected with a tree root I went flying and sprawled on the water laden ground in a tiny clearing with a small ground spring that welled and filled the space. I knelt there, sobbing hysterically as I clawed at my bandages and stared at the scales and the talons that were growing out of my toes.
"God fucking dammit!" I screamed, pounding my fist onto the ground and send up a spray of water as I bent forward and sobbed.
And then I was hit from behind. Wrapped in a furry warm embrace by a presence much larger than myself and I screamed and struggled against the restraining arms.
"Stop, let me go!" I shrieked, clawing desperately against Hank.
"Let go Wren," he whispered fiercely. "Just let it go. It's done."
"Let what go?" I asked, suddenly nervous. "Nothing's wrong, I just needed some air is all."
"If you really think I believe that," he began.
"Then what? You'll sell me some magic beans! Nothing's wrong Hank, I was just tired of being cooped up in that pretty little prison where everyone is suffocating in their own damage and no body says anything!" I railed, but even as I said the words my throat constricted and I realized what I had just said, the truth of the words, and Hank was too perceptive not to pick up on my real meaning.
"Then say it," he said fiercely. "Say what you really need to say."
"I can't," I said desperately.
"I'm not letting you go until you tell me what's really bothering you," Hank said, holding me tightly by the shoulders.
"No, you'll just wait until you get what you want and then leave, just like everyone else. Leave little Wren-bird to pick up the pieces," I said with terrible bitterness. "Oh God Hank I've walked through hell, and I've always been strong, I always found a way to stand up on my own two feet. And I've always found a way to deal, but I can't do this. I can't face the day again. Everything I've worked towards has been taken away from me. And I can't even blame anyone this time. There is no bad guy in a black trench coat. I feel like I've undergone some terrible natural disaster, but I don't know how to rebuild, I don't know how to adapt to this. And everyone acts like nothing's changed, like I've got some amazing gift to give the world, but all I can think about is the fact that my body has forced me back into hiding-"
I choked on my words, my breathing hitching before I sobbed a terrible, heart wrenching sob and I tried desperately to stifle it, tried to prove that I was okay, but when I couldn't I turned my head, trying to hide my utter downfall.
When I heard Hank sob, I turned my head and looked up at him, tears wetting his fur.
"Everything has changed Wren, and you will never be the same woman you used to be," he said, and I wrapped my arms around him, as much for his comfort as for my own. "I know you hurt, I know you despise yourself and crave the end, but it will get better. Every day it get a little easier, every day you get better about getting out of bed. Smiling won't hurt as much after a while, and finally, when you accept your body, you see that everyone around you here accepts it too. You don't have to rebuild your life alone Wren. I'll help you, I'll stand by you as you find the strength to get out of bed in the morning. Because I know how much you hate yourself right now, I know how much it hurts to look in the mirror and see someone different than the person you thought was you-"
His own breathing hitched and he wept, his head pillowed against my neck as we clutched each other and wept.
"Don't leave me Hank," I begged desperately. "Don't go, I can't face the world alone."
"You don't have to face the world alone," he said, clutching me tightly. "I'll always be here for you."
"We'll always be here for you," said Logan, and we both turned, our faces streaked with tears.
There, standing on the edge of the natural pool stood Warren, Bobby, Jean, Scott, Logan, Emma, Kitty, Piotr, Ororo, and Remy.
"The X-Men stick together," Jean said. "No matter what you look like, where you come from or where you're going, we're a family."
"Thick as thieves," Remy said with a rakish grin.
"Wren, I own you an apology," Warren said. "I just plodded ahead and made plans for you without talking to you about it first, you deserve better than that. Your job will always be there for you at the company whenever you want it. I've even acquired the building where your apartment is, so you can always go back there when you need too. Consider it a welcome to the family present."
"Family?" I asked and felt Hank's hands tighten on my tiny ribcage.
"Family," Hank murmured. "And this one isn't going anywhere."