Disclaimer: X-Men and all of its characters belong to Marvel. No money was/is/will be produced from this page.

A/N: This story was originally just going to be a one-shot, but now I got a few reviews suggesting that I continue, and I thought, "Hey, why not?" So here I am. I'm going to have three chapters total.

The views and opinions expressed in the story content do not correlate with the views and opinions of Artemis's Liege.

Continuity: Uses the settings from the original X-Men trilogy, but none of the events have taken place.


On his second day as the school doctor of the Xavier Institute, Hank began to feel as although he was beginning to adjust to his job somewhat.

He quickly learned that he was much more than a medical physician at the school. Although the position he had signed on for was specifically a first-aid caregiver, he found himself refereeing disagreements between the students, reprimanding those who were careless with their mutant abilities, and allaying fears that the time spent in the medical center would cause them to fall irrevocably behind the rest of the class in their studies.

From a physician's point of view, the Xavier Institute was a fascinating place. There was always another malady to treat, whether it be a minor abrasion or setting broken bones.

Despite being completely prepared to administer first-aid to these injuries, Hank admittedly was caught off-guard on several occasions by the manner of which the injuries were attained. For instance, both Xi'an and Remy were nineteen, but that hadn't stopped them from falling victim to the practical joke of several younger students when they had taken the fifth-grade out on an ill-advised nature walk, and found themselves toppling into the shallow area of the stream that ran through the woods beyond the mansion. Unfortunately, Xi'an wound up slicing her leg on a sharp stone and subsequently required stitches, while Remy's attempts to break his fall resulted in three fractured ribs, although, luckily, he would be good as new in a few days thanks to his healing factor.

Hank was just disinfecting the area where he had treated the two of them when the metal door opened. Immediately, he knew that it wasn't a student- if it had been, the door undoubtably would've smashed against the wall, carelessly shoved aside by a student in the process of working themselves into a panicked mental state over whatever their injury might've been.

The aroma of tea leaves and flowers drifted through the air, and Hank turned to meet Ororo Munroe's warm, dark gaze. She stood a few paces away from him, holding a tea tray decorated with delicate china.

"I though you could use a break," she said with a smile, indicating the silver tray she was carrying, upon which a stately teapot and several matching teacups rested. "After all, we haven't had time to visit."

"That would be wonderful," Hank replied, returning her smile. "Let me just finish cleaning up, and I would be delighted to partake."

Within a few moments, he had joined Ororo, and the two sat and sipped their tea, remaining in the front area of the medical center in preparation for an emergency.

At the first taste of his tea, Hank recognized the blend. "This is Darjeeling." He looked at Ororo. "You remembered."

"That it was your favorite?" Ororo asked fondly. "Of course. I remember the mornings when we would wake up early, just to watch the sunrise together, and you would make tea . . . back then, I was still a heathen using tea bags. And then you educated me in the art of making loose tea."

"I'm always happy to those misguided in the importance of fine tea onto the correct path again, Ororo," Hank told her, and the two shared a chuckle at his mock-serious tone.

"So how did it go yesterday?" Ororo asked. "Was it one of the better first days or one of the worse?"

"It was a very interesting experience," Hank responded neutrally.

Ororo raised an eyebrow. "Taking the diplomatic approach, are we? Scott told me that you had a few of the troublemakers come through here."

Before Hank could reply, the door to the medical center opened, and a girl in her mid-teens, dressed entirely in black, walked inside. Although it took a minute for Hank to remember, he recognized her as the girl Amara had referred to as "Rogue." The fedora she had worn the previous day now rested in her hand, rendering visual identification difficult without her discernible fashion statement. She turned to look at them with a piercing, green gaze, but Hank's focus was the blood dripping down her forearms.

"Oh my stars and garters," Hank said. The girl's eyes were vacant of any sort of awareness, leaving her stare disturbingly empty and fixed. He couldn't shake a chill as he met her completely lifeless gaze; it reminded him of a documentary concerning lobotomy patients he had once viewed for a college course.

"Henry. Ororo." She smiled at them as they watched her warily, and the expression only caused her glassy stare to appear more disconcerting. "I certainly hope that I didn't interrupt a moment." She fixed them both with her impassive gaze. "It's me, Emma. This girl collapsed outside while walking down the staircase. She was in need of medical attention, so just decided to send her over to you, Henry."

Hank understood. The girl was unconscious, therefore Emma Frost had utilized her telepathic abilities and psionically taken control of the girl's body to assure that she received the necessary medical attention. Now, Emma was speaking through the girl's body, similar to the numerous movies in which a demon possessed a host and acted through them. He fluidly rose from his seat. "Is she seriously injured?"

"No," Emma replied, smiling at him with the girl's face. "She was very lucky. There are no broken bones, only these scratches." She gestured towards the girl's arms. "Nothing else. She's hardly in dire straits."

"Why did she collapse?" Hank inquired. Remembering crossing paths with Jean-Paul, he voiced his presumption. "Hypoglycemia?"

Arching an eyebrow, Emma shook her head slightly. "As much as I hate to disappoint you, it's not that dramatic. Anna Marie merely didn't sleep well last night, was so exhausted that she became overwhelmed by dizziness when she tried to climb the staircase."

"I see." Hank turned to Ororo. "I sincerely apologize, Ororo, but -"

"I understand." An unfathomable expression had settled upon Ororo's beautiful features and she was already standing. "Perhaps we could do this another time?"

"I unmitigatedly endorse that proposal." Hank smiled at his friend. She smiled back at him, but Hank couldn't help but noticed that her smile seemed somewhat off.

"I'll see you later," Ororo murmured, touching his arm briefly.

"Yes, you do that." Emma sent a smile dripping with saccharine sweetness in Ororo's direction. "And while you're at it, be a dear and gather up the china, would you?" With a careless wave of her hand, she gesticulated to the tea tray and its supplements.

A muscled in Ororo's jaw twitched, and she aimed a disdainful glance Emma's way before moving to collect the china. Her back ramrod straight, Ororo briskly stalked out the door.

"Henry, darling," Emma said silkily, recapturing Hank's attention, "this girl needs medical attention, even if her injuries aren't drastic."

"Certainly," Hank replied quickly, realizing that he had been unintentionally neglecting his patient. "Would you-"

A smile, courtesy of Emma, curled onto Anna Marie's lips when she languidly stretched out Anna Marie's arms, one at a time, for him to examine. Ordinarily, a smile would look pretty and charming on a face as elegant as Anna Marie's, but the knowledge that someone else was controlling the girl's every action struck Hank as downright uncanny and instilled a feeling of deep unease within him.

"Please sit down, Emma, I'll be just a moment."

When Hank returned with the necessary medical supplies and began cleaning the wide, but shallow lacerations, Emma was uncharacteristically silent, judging from his impressions of her from his visits and what he had been told by his colleagues. Hank wasn't sure to be grateful or not; uncomfortable as the situation was, Emma struck him as the type of woman who could make his life at the Institute exceedingly complicated. By the time he finished wrapping adhesive tape over gauze around the girl's forearms, though, she seemed to be her normal sensual self once more.

"Well, now, if that's taken care of, where should I put this?" She gestured sweepingly to Anna Marie's body using the girl's arm.

"Just take her into the other room so she can lie down," Hank told her, motioning to the doorway that led to a room lined with meticulously arranged hospital beds. Under these circumstances, it probably would've been more appropriate to have the girl lie down in one of the several back rooms, but in this case, Hank didn't want Anna Marie to wake up alone in a tightly enclosed area on a paper-covered leg couch.

Emma in Anna Marie's body rose from her seat with a feline grace, and suddenly, Hank found the girl pressed against him.

"Thank you so much," Emma purred, gently caressing his cheek. "For all of your . . ." she deliberated for a few seconds, "help." Abruptly, she maneuvered past him into the other room, with a blasé, "Ciao, Henry. I have to be going, so I'll leave this girl with you."

For several moments, Hank simply stood where he was in discomposure. Yesterday there had been the eerie perfection of Jean-Paul Martin, just now there was the unnatural sight of Emma speaking and moving through Anna Marie.

Hank couldn't imagine what the following day would deliver to him, but he wondered what sort of unconventional encounter he would experience tomorrow. Normally, Hank thought of himself as a self-possessed individual, but he doubted he would have the patience to manage the next peculiar and wounded student that crashed through the doors of the medical center.


Confusion or concrit? Let me know.

Also, if there are any X-Men characters from the movies or the comics that you'd like to see in the third chapters, just send me a suggestion, and I'll see what I can do.