-II-
Marcy sat outside the office of Professor Xavier, hands-yes, hands. She was back to normal again-curled on her lap. She watched her feet as people walked past her, just giving her that confused look people gave you when they didn't recognize you, and were trying to analyze where they knew you from, or what you were doing in their familiar area.
She could hear her parents—her father in particular—yelling about how they needed to get Marcy fixed. She could hear the Professor, his deep, calm voice responding to her father's frenzied anger, but she couldn't understand exactly what he was saying. But he wasn't the only quiet one in the room. Her mother would interject occasionally, mostly asking for her father to calm down. And Dr. Hank McCoy. She knew he was in there. She had seen him when her parents had entered the room. There had been a large blue form in the corner, and he had smiled at her. She had smiled back and ran to him, showing him her hands—normal again. He had smiled back, and she told him thank you. He asked her if she wanted anything.
She had. But she couldn't just say that she wanted her father to go away. She couldn't just tell him that she didn't want to wait outside alone while people yelled about her fate less than ten feet away with only a 4-inch wall dividing them.
She couldn't say that she wanted to stay here so badly that she didn't care what her parents ended up saying, even though it seemed pretty obvious what her father wanted. The door slammed open and her father came busting out of the room, dragging her mother by the wrist, and Marcy stood. Her father was still yelling about something, but all Marcy could see was her mother's arm being squeezed by her father's large, meaty fingers. She could feel the tingling in her arms again, the familiar burning.
"Todd, you're hurting me," Marcy's mother mumbled, pulling at his hand. "Marcy, come on, we're going home."
"I want to stay," Marcy answered, as her father grabbed onto her arm but quickly pulled it away. He remembered, apparently what a monster his daughter was.
"We're leaving, Marceline." Mr Heaney shot, stomping down the hall.
"I'm staying." Marcy said again, not moving. The burning stayed in her fingers and at the base of her spine, and she glared down the hall. "You're hurting my mom." She said, feeling the flesh rip away from her bones, her claws. Her whole body felt like it was on fire. "Stop. Touching. My. Mom." She yelled, finally. Her father stopped what he was doing and turned to see Marcy glaring at him. Dr. McCoy stood in Professor Xavier's office doorway, watching the commotion. Marcy looked over her shoulder at him, hoping that he would help, that she wouldn't have to hurt her father. He stared at her, his yellow eyes filled up with some sort of empathetic emotion, that proved to Marcy he understood. He leaped into the air and grabbed onto rafters, swinging down the hall to where Mr. Heaney stood.
"I'd appreciate it if you'd take your hands off the lady." Dr McCoy said, grabbing Mr. Heaney's wrist between two fingers. "I also think that you should allow your daughter to choose whether to stay here or go to a 'Friends of Humanity' facility." Mr. Heaney dropped Mrs. Heaney's arm quickly and she caught her wrist in her own hand, holding it against her chest. Marcy stared down the hall at Dr. McCoy, only half able to hear what he was saying. She took a couple steps, holding onto her dress with her claw-fingers. She needed to either find a way to stop changing like this, or find some clothes that would survive the transformation.
The Doctor beckoned her down the hall, and Professor Xavier exited the office, sitting quietly in his wheelchair behind Marcy.
This was the first time she had seen him. She hadn't expected him to be bald. He wasn't the intimidating kind of bald, though. It was classy, and he still seemed kind. But that was mostly his eyes, she assumed, not the bald head. Bald heads rarely seemed kind. It was usually either scary or creepy. Which could be the same thing.
She hadn't expected him to be disabled, either... Or... not able to walk. She didn't know if 'disabled' was the right word for it. 'Handicapped' definitely didn't seem like the right word. She didn't think that being a professor could really go hand-in-hand with being handicapped. He smiled at her gently, and she realized she had been standing like a dope in the middle of the hallway, and Dr. McCoy was asking her to come over to that end of the hall.
She took a few steps forward and her father flinched when he looked at her. She looked down at the ground, and finished the 20 foot walk, dragging her feet.
Her father was scared to look at her. And her mother was scared of her father, which led her to be scared of Marcy.
"Marceline," Dr. McCoy said, holding his hand out. Marcy just stared at his hand, she was still afraid that her claws would be sharp and would hurt him. The blue man looked down at her and gave a slight chuckle before leaning down closer to her height. "Your father wants to take you to a Friend's of Humanity Reformation Clinic." Marcy nodded quietly. "And Professor Xavier and I think it would be much more beneficial for you to stay here, instead." Again, Marcy nodded. "Your mother thought that you should be allowed to say which you would prefer." Once more, a nod. "Do you understand the difference between the two different places?" This time, Marcy shook her head. McCoy nodded.
"Here, we'll help you to understand and work with your mutation. There, on the other hand, they will try to 'cure' you—"
"I want to stay here." Marcy said, simply. McCoy looked over at her parents, a sort of I-Told-You-So look on his face. Her mother nodded, and her father's face turned red, a vein shaped like a Y popping out on his forehead.
"She can't choose where she goes. I want her cured! She can't play piano with those things!" Marcy turned when she heard the quiet creak of wheels, and saw the bald professor sitting behind her in his wheelchair.
"She can, however, learn to cope with her... mutation." Xavier said, his voice still so calm and soothing. "And learn to control the transformations, so she can continue to play the piano. Here. At the Xavier Institute."
"And what will happen at the Friends of Humanity place?" Marcy asked, looking over at her father, still trying to please him by even asking, even though she hadn't even considered it. She didn't understand what everyone's problem with the Mutants was. She didn't think that they were any different from anyone else. They were all humans. Her parents had loved her when she was a human, and now that she was a mutant they were scared of her. But didn't her transformation the night before mean that she'd always been a mutant? From birth? And since it was a genetic mutation, didn't that mean her parents passed it down to her? She'd taken a biology class before, she knew how genes worked. They came from your parents. Did that mean her parents were mutants?
"Things a young girl, like yourself, shouldn't have to find out about." Dr. McCoy said, smiling down at her. "We've already explained the things they would put you through over there, to your parents. But they still seem to think that it's a good idea to send you there."
"I didn't," Marcy's mother piped up, standing close to the wall and away from Marcy and the giant blue man.
"She's going." Her father said.
"I'm staying here." Marcy responded, cringing as her arms starting burning again, changing back to normal hands again. This was going to get increasingly frustrating, she could tell. She took a step away from her father, towards the professor, and he held his hand out to her. She took it calmly, and looked to her mother, not her father. She knew that from now on, she wasn't going to be considered his daughter anymore, and felt okay with that. She didn't need a father. She needed to be in this place.
"Then it's settled." Xavier said, finally, looking around at the group of people in the hallway. "We'll get young Marcy enrolled in classes here straight-away." Marcy continued to cling onto Xavier's hand, her other hand keeping her dress from falling down. "We'll send for her clothes later tonight, unless you'd like to bring them up tonight?"
And then her father started yelling again, flinging profanities, and trying to argue, saying that Marcy's 'affliction' needed to be cured, as Marcy's mother grabbed at his arm, just saying "Todd, stop it," over and over again, as if anything could calm Mr. Heaney's Businessman Anger down.
"We got a problem, bub?" came a gruff voice from somewhere down the hall. A short, black-haired man stood, leaning against the wall, his hair styled into two strange points. He had the butt-end of a cigar hanging from betwixt his lips, large hairy arms crossed over his flannel-adorned chest. Brown suspenders held up his dirty, old jeans, work-boots poking out from the torn cuffs.
"What's this? A body guard?" Mr. Heaney scoffed, standing up to his six-foot-three full height. The black-haired man barely came to Marcy's father's nipples.
"Nah, I'm your escort for the night." The man grumbled, holding one arm up in a fist. With a loud snikt noise, three long knifes came from between his knuckles. "Best get your ass movin', bub."
"Logan," the Professor said, giving him a stern look.
"I'm sorry, little lady," said the man, presumably Logan. He gave Marcy a smile. It was terrifying, but she could tell it was sincere. She tried to smile back, but could only get half of her mouth to work, the other side apparently too disturbed by this little, scary man.
"Let's not threaten our guests, Logan." Dr. McCoy said, gesturing toward his claws. With the snakt noise, the claws disappeared and Logan gave Marcy's father that same, scary smile, and gave him a sort of sarcastic half-bow before gesturing down the hall toward the entrance. Marcy's mother stopped next to Xavier and Marcy, leaning down to give her daughter a kiss on the forehead.
"I'll be back to see you soon," she whispered, before turning to Xavier. "Please take good care of her." She whispered, sort of gesturing to Logan, who was following behind Mr. Heaney very closely. Xavier gave a quiet chuckle.
"I assure you, he's one of our best teachers-"
"He's a teacher?" Mrs. Heaney cried, obviously horrified. Xavier chuckled again.
"He's surprisingly good with children. I promise you. I'm a great judge of character." Marcy's mother nodded, her face still scared, her cheeks were pink and dry from crying so much the past two days, and her eyes were wide with dark purple circles underneath them from not sleeping.
"Take care of her, please." She repeated, before gathering Marcy in a tight hug and then hurrying down the hall behind her husband.