Author's note: Thanks to everyone for your wonderful reviews! They are most appreciated! Sorry this took so long to write, I've been swamped with things. 'The Passion of Mary Magdalen' is a part of a wonderful series by Elizabeth Cunningham. And as always I own nothing except for my little Wren-bird.
Two weeks later I laid in bed next to Hank staring at the ceiling. Three days earlier I had been given a clean bill of health, and I went without bandages on my legs and feet since my scales and most of the talons on my toes had grown in. My wing joints were strong and healthy and the muscles in my back could support them easily. Which is how I came to lie next to Hank, wide awake at 6 in the morning staring at the ceiling. I was itching to fly.
Warren had said we would practice tonight, after I got back from packing up the things I would need from my apartment, but that seemed so long away. So I snuck out of bed and pulled on a pair of jeans and sneakers, grabbing one of Warren's old t-shirts with the wing slits in it that he had given me. Normally I needed help putting on my shirt, but this morning my wings fit effortlessly through the slits and I shot a look at Hank who snorted and rolled over in his sleep while I crept out of the room and down the hall.
I padded silently through the corridors until I reached the glass patio doors. The sun was just beginning to light the sky, so I slipped outside and tried to figure out how my new wings worked. And it dawned on me that perhaps I wouldn't be taking flight anytime soon, but that didn't stop me from trying to get my wings to move, and they did. Eventually. Sort of.
My left wing sputtered and twitched, and then my right wing shot straight up in the sky, and it took a certain amount of encouragement from me to get them back into their upright and locked positions. Then I started again.
An hour and a half later I could extend my right wing completely and my left wing part of the way and I figured I was making progress.
By 8 I could extend both of them, but I couldn't retract them. And that's how Warren found me, both wings fully extended, standing on the porch staring at them in deep thought.
"My my, I'm impressed," Warren said, walking around my not unimpressive wingspan. "Can you retract them?"
"I'm working on it," I said, sticking my tongue out over my upper lip.
"Here, just try relaxing the muscles, put your arms down, there," Warren said, and my wings were once against resting neutrally against my back. "Can you extend them again?"
We did this for over an hour, extending and retracting our wings. Well, he did it with graceful fluidity where as I looked like a spastic dinosaur about to have a seizure. But towards the end I could more or less retract my wings, and my back felt worked but not overly, and I had to sit down afterwards, the feeling of success was heady from my small victory.
"There you are, Hank and Jean are in the foyer, you ready to roll?" Bobby asked, and I nodded, taking the travel mug of tea from him and thanking him.
"Rest up tonight, we'll do more tomorrow, and when you start your classes on Monday, we'll work together in the evenings," Warren said brightly, waving us off.
Two hours of bickering later and we were parked and trudging up the stairs and into my apartment building. All of us were burdened with flattened boxes, packing tape and markers as we rode the elevator.
On the fifth floor we climbed out and I stuck my keys into the locks and pushed into the quiet little rent controlled apartment.
"Why don't you three start in here and I'll do the bedroom. You can leave all the furniture, just pack the books and photographs, movies and video games. Hmm, the television should come too, I can mount it on the wall. Save that and the computer, I'll pack those myself, as well as the bedding," I said, delegating effortlessly. "I'll still be living here part time, so there's no need to take everything away.
In my bedroom, I closed the door behind me and looked around for a moment before pulling my luggage out of the closet. I carefully packed away my clothing for the spring and summer, putting my families fine jewelry into locked cases and storing them at the bottom of my bags. I packed away shoes and handbags, photographs and the favorite books I kept in my room. Then I turned to the daunting task of figuring out what else needed to come with me. I was teaching sex ed and I had no idea where to begin. Teaching teenagers about human sexuality was different from teaching adults.
"Wren, what do you want to do with these books?" Jean called, and I quirked an eyebrow and went into the living room.
"Tools of the trade," I sighed, taking a book on self love for abuse victims from her hand.
"Why do you have all these books anyway?" Bobby asked, handling a beautifully illustrated copy of the Kama Sutra from India a friend had given me.
"I worked my way through college as a sex educator," I explained. "Don't damage that book, it was brought from India."
"What, seriously?" Jean asked, looking startled.
"I was a sex educator for adults, now I'll be one for teenagers," I said, putting the books into a box labelled "sex ed" in bold letters.
"Those are very different things," Jean said warily, her green eyes wide, and I put down the book I was holding on the shelf and looked at them.
"Up until three years ago I worked in an upscale adult boutique selling and teaching about healthy sex. I went onto to give lectures at colleges and work with partner abuse and rape survivors. I'm good at what I do. And I know better than to bring a copy of the Kama Sutra into class. That's for my own private use," I said smartly and easily. "And before you ask, the professor knows, he thinks it's marvelous and he trusts me to do the right thing."
"Well it would be good to give the kids a more rounded view than just the physical aspect," Hank mused.
"Safe sex is a big part of it, but there are emotional connotations to sex that they don't know about. They think it's all fun and games, they don't know yet that sex can be used as a weapon, it can be painful, or humiliating. It's an important dialogue to have. And if they feel that they can talk to someone about sex without being ridiculed or punished, then they have a better shot at leading healthier more enjoyable sex lives later on," I explained, surprised that it came back to me so easily. "Pack all the nonfiction stuff, pack the art history and sheet music, leave the rest."
As I walked back towards my bedroom, Hank followed me back.
"Why didn't you tell me you did all this," he asked, seating himself on the edge of my bed as I closed the door.
"I was going too," I said, hooking my hair behind one ear. "I just didn't want to rock the boat."
Hank just quirked an eyebrow at me.
"Sex workers and educators are often seen as. . . less. I'm proud of who I am and the work that I've done Hank. I'm sorry I didn't tell you, I've just been trying to figure everything out and get my head around all the changes that it slipped my mind. The worry about us was just one more thing to deal with," I said honestly.
"I need you to tell me these things Wren," Hank said seriously. "This isn't going to work unless we feel like we can talk openly about who we are and what we've done."
I nodded mutely. "You're right Hank. I'm sorry, I'm not usually that person. I try hard not to be."
"I know you do Wren," he said warmly. "Now, show me what other devious things you have in store."
"Err, what?" I finally asked, wondering if he really meant it.
"You're the educator, educate," he said with a mischievous grin.
"It's all under the bed, you go through it and find what you like, or think you'd like and pack it away. Don't even show me, don't tell me, surprise me. Then I'll come and grab my favorites," I grinned back. "But we haven't even had sex yet Hank."
"Maybe I'm planning something special," he said cryptically.
"Well it's going to get a lot more special than you ever imagined," I replied, grabbing two train cases and heading for the bathroom.
When we left that night, I locked the door behind us and it took several trips back and forth to the elevator, but we finally loaded everything into the three cars and headed back to the Institute.
I spent most of that night and the following day unpacking my things in my new digs. My computer in the corner, my television mounted on the wall with the dvd player on top of the dresser underneath it. My books went on the shelves, and then I carted my books for the classroom down to the meager little office I had been given.
Then I sat down in my chair and opened the art history books. Putting together my lectures and arranging the sheet music for my first day of class took several hours, and around eleven, Hank came and tiredly herded me off to bed, where I collapsed between the blankets with Hank and we slept exhaustedly until my alarm went off the next morning and it was time to shine once again.
One shower and two cups of coffee later, I was giving my first art history lecture on prehistoric art. The same lecture I gave one more time that morning before my free period and lunch.
I took my time at lunch until Emma grabbed my elbow and hauled me to my feet. "The sooner you do it, the sooner it'll be done."
"But I teach adults, it was stupid to think I could teach teenagers about sex," I said as she dragged me towards my class.
"These kids have been through a lot, I think they can handle it," Emma said before pushing me into my classroom, and for a moment I stood, studying the faces of the kids in the chairs.
"Okay," I said brightly. "My name is Miss Gerard. Let's start with role call and go from there. . . My list is a little out of order here, sorry. Sooraya Qadir, check, Joshua Foley, check, Julian Keller, check, Cessily Kincaid, check, Victor Borkowski, check, Santo Vaccarro, check, Noriko Ashida, check, Laura Kinney, check, Hisako Ichiki, check, Megan Gwynn, check, Nezhno Abidemi, check, David Alleyne, check. Good, now that we're all here, can anyone tell me what they think sex is?"
"Excuse me," Sooraya asked, her purring voice rising out of her dark clothing.
"Yes Sooraya?" I asked brightly, leaning against the edge of my desk.
"I am not comfortable having this discussion with men in the room, it is unseemly," she said gently but firmly.
"Alright Sooraya, why don't you head on up to the library and do some studying. Could you meet me after class to discuss this? Sex ed is a required course," I asked calmly.
"Yes, so long as it is in private," Sooraya conceded.
"Great, then come to my office after class and we'll work then," I said as she packed up her bags. When she left, I turned my attention back to the rest of the class. "So, anyone?"
"It's about loving your wominz," Santo said.
"Okay, great," I wrote it down on the board. "Is that spelled with a 'z'?"
"Yes ma'am," Santo replied cheekily.
"Okay, what else?" I asked, looking sharply around.
"It's an expression of love between two people," Megan offered.
"Absolutely, what else?" I asked, surveying the class.
"It's biological," David said. "We do it to reproduce."
"Of course we do," I said. "What else?"
"What else is there?" Cessily asked.
"Good question, what else is there?" I said, coming to sit on the edge of my desk. "That's what we're here to find out."
Laura tentatively raised her hand. "Sex can be a weapon."
"What? That's stupid, sex doesn't hurt anyone," Santo said loudly.
"Actually that's wrong Santo," I replied. "Sex can absolutely be used as a weapon. It can be used to threaten and intimidate both men and women and damage them horribly."
"But if the guy gets it up," Santo started in.
"That's a natural biological response that isn't voluntary," I replied. "Just because he has an erection doesn't mean he wants to use it, or use it with the person whose pressuring him into doing something he's not comfortable with."
The class was silent as they thought that over.
The subject changed after that, and by the time the period was over, everyone wandered out in a daze except for Noriko, who slunk up to my desk. "What you were saying about guys, is that the same for girls too?"
I swallowed and tried to quiet the sound of blood rushing in my ears. "Yes Noriko, we don't have control over that part of our body either. Sometimes we don't get aroused when we want too, and sometimes we get aroused when we don't."
She was quiet for a moment, and I recognized the look of a woman who had been through hell and back.
"Noriko, what was his name?" I asked gently.
Her enormous liquid brown eyes widened and she stared at me in shock. "I-I have to go."
I watched her grab her bag and flee the room in a panic.
Sighing, I rested my head on my desk for a moment.
"Wren?" Hank asked from the door, and I looked up into his enormous blue face.
"Yes Hank?" I asked, pushing Noriko from my mind and smiling up at my boyfriend.
"I was wondering if you would do me the honor of escorting me to dinner on Friday night," he asked, coming forward to lean against my desk.
"I'd love too, what did you have in mind?" I asked teasingly, petting the fur on his forearm lovingly.
"That's a surprise, just dress in your finest attire and be ready to go at 6pm," Hank said, showing his canids as he smiled broadly.
"Alright baby, I shall endeavor to comply," I said, packing up my books and getting ready for my chorus class.
Hours later, when school was out and I was done for the day, I sat in my office in the vanishing light, staring at the horizon and thinking about Noriko. I certainly had my work cut out for me.
When I left the office, I travelled down into the basement of the house as though I were in a dream. Hank was working on something or another and I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his broad back. I listened to his heart and the sound of his breathing while he worked. We stayed like that for a long time, him working while I let go the stress and worry of the day until he finished and I withdrew my arms so he could turn around.
"How was your first day of explorations in adolescent academia?" He asked as I slumped down onto the stool next to his.
"Oh, you know, cave paintings and choral music," I said. "It was a pretty easy first day."
"And your other class?" Hank asked delicately.
"I'll tell you along with everyone else at dinner, goodness knows everyone wants to know what the big bad sex educator has to say," I said, grinning wickedly.
"Don't say that, I think what you're doing is admirable," Hank said honestly.
"Mmm, just wait 'til this weekend, you haven't seen anything yet," I said, and burst out laughing at the look on his face.
"Come on, let's go hit the communal watering hole," Hank said as we heaved ourselves out of our seats and headed up to the upper levels of the house.
When we reached the kitchen, Scott and Emma all but picked me up and shoved me into a chair.
"Your students were quite preoccupied after your class today Wren, care to explain?" Emma demanded, staring me down.
"We talked about sex and what it was," I said honestly.
"That's not all you did," Scott said.
"Okay, stop with the first degree, this is bullshit and the both of you know it. I just talked to those kids like they were adults and they responded, and that's what's really bothering you, isn't it?" I said. "I'm actually trying to get through to these kids and it bothers you that I've got them actively thinking about the material outside of class."
"Everyone calm down," Jean said, floating the dinner dishes over to the table. "Why don't you walk us through your class Wren?"
As we settled around the table, I noticed that after everyone had filled their plates, they all stopped to watch me, even the professor, and I sighed, spearing some asparagus with my fork.
"I started off the class with a discussion about what they thought sex was. There aren't any right or wrong answers when it comes to sex because everyone has different relationships and experiences with it. Some see it as casual, others see it as an expression of love, and some see it as a painful hurtful experience and it can be all of those things. We talked about what that meant, and we talked about what it meant when a man was forced into an uncomfortable sexual position, and that men are just as vulnerable as women when it comes to sex," I explained, relaxing when everyone stopped hammering me for details.
"Did anyone admit anything to you in class?" Emma asked, staring at me out of her blue eyes.
"That's none of your business," I replied sharply. "If the problem becomes bigger than something I can handle I will bring it to your attention, but until then I'm going to take care of things. I'm the most qualified person here to handle that kind of trauma anyway."
Stunned silence met my words and a moment no one said anything.
"Wren, should a problem arise, I would like you to come and see me," Charles said, studying me closely.
"Of course I'll do that, but I'm not going to violate a students trust until I see no other way," I replied.
"Very good, Emma, how was your telepathy class today?" The professor asked, shifting the focus away from me, but I could still feel the consternation and judgement from the others.
When dinner was finished I wandered up to my room and put on a movie, content to erase the miasma of judgement from the air, and Hank joined me. Towards eleven, I sat up straight in bed. "I want Reese's peanut butter cups. Wanna come?"
"Snack run?" Hank asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Snack run," I replied, grinning broadly.
Flicking off the television, we crept towards the bedroom door, my ear was down by the keyhole and Hank dwarfed me, leaning against the door, we strained to hear the sounds of murmured voices and doors closing before we gently eased the door open and looked up and down the hall.
All clear.
We crept out, shutting the door behind us, we sniggered as we shimmied down the hallway, and I tripped over a potted plant, knocking it down with a crash, we looked at each other and quickly scooped the plant back up and shoving it under a curio table we took off at a mad silent dash through the halls until we reached the foyer.
We discovered Bobby in the living room, and we snuck in and over to the wing chair where he was sitting.
"We're going on a snack run," Hank whispered.
"It's gonna be a big one," I said in the rhythm to the children's 'bear hunt' song. "What a beautiful night, we're not scared!"
Bobby muffled his snort of laughter. "Let's roll."
We walked calmly through the house, affecting a 'Blue's Brothers' posturing as we headed for the kitchen door. Giggling we snuck out into the warm spring air, heading for the garage Hank started towards his car, but Bobby and I stopped him.
"Let's take someone else's car," Bobby crowed. "This is a special occasion."
"Whose?" Hank asked, and I looked around, surveying the cars for a moment before a wicked smile dawned on my face.
"Scott's, we're taking Scott's car," I said, unable to hide my glee.
I sat in the passenger seat while Hank hot-wired the car and we took off into the night, the three of us hooting and hollering as we raced down the driveway and into the night.
The wind felt incredible against my face and in my hair, and I had to resist the temptation to spread my wings, lest I go airborne and then crash. The bliss of committing a felony combined with the promise of favorite treats was intoxicating, and I hooted as we careened into Salem Center, heading for the all night convenience store on rt. 12 that connected to the interstate.
Pulling into the parking lot we stopped the car and pranced inside. Hank and Bobby headed for the Twinkies while I loaded up on peanut butter cups and rice crispy treats. We convened at the cash register, dropping two twenties on the table and ran out into the night leaving the confused clerk to shake his head at us.
"Okay, my turn to drive," I said, jumping behind the wheel I took off down the street, heading for the interstate.
"Where are you going?" Hank asked. "We all have classes and work tomorrow!"
"We'll be back in plenty of time," I replied, heading north on the freeway. "Scott'll never know."
More famous last words had never been spoken.
I floored it all the way to Montauk. Three hours flat. It was 2 am when we arrived and we all ran out onto the beach, collapsing against the surf and tearing into our packets, eating peanut butter cups and Twinkies, drunk on life. Hank ran down the beach while Bobby practiced his ice sculptures in the ocean and I ran down the shore, wings and arms out like some strange air plane.
At the end of the beach I ran into an area filled with enormous tall black rocks and Hank's voice reverberated through the space and I looked for him, giggling madly the entire time.
"Marco!" I called softly.
"Polo!" Hank called, scooping me up from behind and planting a heated kiss on my lips, pressing me up against the smooth stone. His claws caught in my clothes and his hand ran up my thigh as he kissed me deeply and I moaned into his mouth, then he pulled away and let out a roar and took off again while I ran after him, laughing so hard I could barely stand up.
We left at 4 in the morning, drunk on life, and I drove us home in our underwear, only I wore a shirt, covered in salt water and grinning like idiots.
It was 7 when we arrived back at the Institute and when we pulled into the driveway, Scott, Remy and Logan were waiting for us. Scott looked more pissed off than usual, not an easy thing to accomplish with those sunglasses. Remy took one look at us and burst out laughing, and Logan just sniffed the air and took Scott by the arm, dragging him away.
Climbing out of the car, I was glad the shirt covered me to almost my mid thigh, and I walked out of the garage and into the house with my head held high. Passing through the kitchen, I walked by my fellow teachers and headed up to my room where I took a shower and dressed for the day, heading to art history with wet hair and a smile that wouldn't quit.
When I walked into sex ed everyone sat up a little straighter. "Dr. McCoy's been kind enough to let us use his anatomy maps for todays lesson, get your things and come with me."
I spent the day teaching a class on male reproductive anatomy, and by the time the day was done, it was a Thursday evening and I happily wandered into my room to find a dress to wear on my date the following night. Nostrils flaring at the sheer casual-ness of my wardrobe, I went and knocked on Emma's door.
"Wanna go on a road trip?" I asked her.
"Whatever for?" Emma asked, eyeing me.
"I need to head back to my apartment and find the most mouth watering dress I can for my date with Hank tomorrow night, and you, my dear, have experience in that department," I explained.
"Let me get my purse," Emma said.
An hour later we were looking through my dresses in the storage unit I rented on the West Side. Against the back wall I had a three way mirror, and the walls were lined with carefully placed lacquer boxes on shelves, not unlike the storage systems Geisha used to incorporate in their okiyas. Even Emma was impressed as I slid my fingers along the boxes, reading off the tags until I pursed my lips and pulled the step ladder away from the wall, climbing up to the high shelves I managed to pull down a box without killing myself.
Setting it gently on the floor, I opened it and pulled out the scarlet corset bodice, caressing the distressed silk lovingly.
"Did Hank say how you should dress?" Emma asked, pulling out another box and studying the black and white Ascot dress with interest.
Glancing over at her I grinned. "Not for a day at the races, he said to dress in my finest attire. I'm not sure he knew just how enormous that decision would be. Although if your interested in borrowing that, I've got the matching hat around here somewhere."
While Emma put the dress away, I undressed to my Spanx and bra, and pulled the red dress up over my hips, studying the high waisted dress in the mirror, the drape of the skirt seemed to make it appear bigger in front before diminishing into a train at the back. "Hmm, maybe not."
Pulling it off, I carefully tucked it away, and went for another box. Three hours later, I was sitting in the middle of the floor staring up at the high walls, trying to figure out what to wear when Emma unearthed a box and after looking in it a moment, she shoved it in my face.
"This is the dress, put it on," she said, badgering me into opening the box, and I paused, breathless at the sight of the dress.
It was a white lace sheath gown, floor length, sleeveless. Under the lace sheath was a sheer, nude silk lining, and split up to the hip on my left side. It fit me like a glove, and I sighed.
"You'll have to go commando in that darling, but I think we found your dress," Emma remarked.
"I'd forgotten I even had this, I had it made for the White Ball my first year at Worthington Industries," I mused. "I nearly melted Bobby and Warren tried to get me to go home with him."
After packing up the dress, I put on my clothes, and dug deeper into the storage unit for the shoes that went with the dress. Eventually unearthing them, I pulled open the box to reveal open toed nude silk pumps that wrapped up my calf to the knee.
"Wren, you are going to give Hank a heart attack," Emma said with a gleam in her eye.
"That's the idea," I grinned back.
Getting ready on Friday was insane. I was up half the night before doing laundry and packing, then I had my classes all day that day, and at 3pm, I practically threw everyone out of my class so I could go and get ready. I breathed fired at Hank to stay far away from my bedroom, and then went off to conquer the unconquerable.
An hour before it was time to go, I was putting my hair up and putting on my make-up with Jean and Ororo's help before they helped me into the dress, oohing and aahing at the fit. My bag was already stored in the trunk of the car via Hank, so all I had to do was deliver myself.
As the women departed, I told them to make sure Hank was in the foyer in two minutes so I could make my grand entrance, and they scuttled ahead while I put the last few things in my handbag and stood back to survey myself in the mirror. My white blonde hair was piled on my hair in an up-do, my ice blue eyes popped against my pale white skin, and one scaled leg stuck out of the side of my dress. My wings made striking contrast, and I was delighted to note that the shoes still fit since my talons hadn't completely grown in yet.
In my shoes I stood at almost 5'10", almost as tall as Hank, and when I left the room, Logan and Remy saw me first and nearly fell over from the shock. Remy recovered first and came forward, taking my hand in his.
"Mah chere, you are going to knock Henri off his feet tonight, no?" He asked, kissing my hand and positively oozing French charm.
"That is the idea," I smiled back. "What about you Logan, do I meet with your approval?"
"You're gonna kill Hank, let us get to the foyer to see his face," Logan said, and the two men hurried ahead while I made my slow tour of the staff bedroom halls, heading for the stairwell. When I reached the foyer, I could hear voices, and I walked across the marble balcony, letting the clicking of my heels announce my presence.
I descended the stairs with as much grace as I could muster, smiling down into Hank's eyes who stood and looked up at me, positively agape.
"You-you-you," he stuttered, as I walked up to him.
"Thank you Hank, you look handsome too," I said, smiling up at him.
"Say cheese!" Bobby crowed, snapping a picture of us as some of my students walked into the foyer.
"Wow teach, you look amazing. You should teach sex ed in that," Santo exclaimed.
"No, that's okay, but your welcome to borrow it if you ever want to guest lecture in class," I said smoothly, and Santo burst out laughing.
"You know teach, you're alright," he said, walking off in the other direction, heading for the kitchen.
"Ready?" Hank asked, and I grinned at the hungry tones in his voice.
"As I'll ever be," I replied with a smile.
We drove for more than two hours, and all the while I badgered Hank into telling me where we were going, but he was adamant that it be a surprise.
And in the end, it was the perfect surprise.
He had rented a cabin on top of a mountain next to a lake. It had beautiful gardens that were lit with fairy lights. The cabin itself was a small bungalow with a bedroom/living room that included a fireplace. A bathroom with a tub big enough for four people, which really added out to two considering our own physiques, and a fully stocked fridge.
Out on the patio, in the gardens overlooking the lake, was a table where two freshly cooked venison steaks were waiting for us, champagne chilling in a bucket, and I sighed, leaning against Hank in bliss.
"This is incredible," I murmured, smiling as he pulled a chair out for me.
We ate and chatted easily with one another, laughing and joking easily. But in the background you could have cut the sexual tension with a knife. Towards the end of the meal, I excused myself and headed to the bathroom.
"Okay cookie," I muttered, hands slinking up to remove the lining in my dress and pulling off my underwear. "It's time to rock and roll."
I walked seductively back out onto the patio and gazed at Hank from the door, revealing my everything and smiling. The smile that spread across his face made me think of the Cheshire Cat as he slowly got up and tiptoed around the table before picking me and throwing me over his shoulder while I howled with laughter.
"Me Tarzan, you Jane," he joked, laying me out on the enormous bed and kissing me passionately.
Our coupling was hot and passionate the first time, and afterwards we laid tangled in the sheets, nestled in on each other, unable to keep our hands off of one another and unable to stop laughing. Then the mood shifted, only this time it was sweet and slow as we learned each other, taking immense pleasure in one another's bodies until we finally slipped off to sleep.
When I woke the next morning, I smiled down at Hank sleeping naked beside me, and slipped out from between the sheets. A thick mist had settled over our mountain paradise, and I went through the house, systematically closing windows and doors before stepping naked out onto the back patio and closing the bedroom doors behind me.
I walked past the uncleared plates from last night, slipping down into the garden and padding silently across the slate path until I walked through the gate and onto the shores of the lake.
I walked down to where the water lapped gently against the shore, and dipped a toe into the water. It was cool, but not too cold, and I walked into the water up to my waist before gently pushing off, taking long smooth strokes through the water, turning onto my back as loons called gently to one another through the mist. I swam out to the middle of the lake, climbing up onto a massive rock that protruded from the water and laid down on my belly, basking in the cool morning mist.
I enjoyed the moment to myself, away from the demands of other people. For so long it had just been me, and now that Hank was here, it was a little overwhelming at times. But in a good way, always in a good way.
Then I slinked off back into the water, lazily swimming back to shore.
The closer I got I could hear Hank calling for me, the crunching of his prodigious feet on the gravelly shore and I smiled at him as I came into view. Walking forward until I was in up to my waist, my long blonde plaits covering my breasts.
"There you are, I was worried," Hank said, beaming at me.
"The mist was so thick, and the water was so delicious I couldn't resist," I explained. "Care to join me?"
I stepped back into the water, crouching down until only my shoulders and head broke the surface.
Hank grinned leeringly and stepped into the water, and I pushed off with my feet, swimming deeper into the lake. What I wasn't expecting him to do, however, was pushing off into the water with his strong legs, colliding with me and wrapping me in his sopping wet furry arms. I shrieked and sputtered indignantly in his embrace, but he just smiled gently down at me until I settled against him, our legs treading water steadily as we gazed at one another.
In the intimacy of the moment, I gazed unabashedly into Hank's face, and then he grinned and the bastard dunked me. It was so sudden and unexpected that I allowed him to press me down, and after a moment's struggle, simply swam deeper into the water, heading towards the rock island twenty feet away.
When I looked back, I saw Hank swimming towards me, and I ducked, heading for the limestone gravel bottom of the lake, visible from the light filtering down into the clear water. I swam along the bottom, my stomach brushing the stones until Hank wrapped me in his arms and catapulted us towards the surface like a cork out of a champagne bottle.
We broke the surface, gulping in enormous breaths of air as we treaded water. Wordlessly tugging at Hank's arm, we swam towards the rock island and pulled ourselves into the broad stone, collapsing breathlessly in the morning sun that was finally breaking through the mist.
"Best idea ever," I panted as the clouds parted and the sun beat down on us. "Thank you for this weekend Hank, it's amazing."
"It's not over yet," he said, allowing the sun to dry his fur.
"Mmm, my my, you're just full of surprises," I said, affecting a fake southern accent. "Are we going to fill the bathtub with twinkies?"
"I hadn't thought of that, but now that you mention it, that doesn't sound like a half-bad idea," Hank replied, staring up at the blue sky.
"Mmm, neither does a nap," I murmured tiredly.
"No falling asleep out here in the sun," Hank admonished. "You aren't going to tan?"
"What? With this complexion? I'll be a lobster in an hour, tops," I replied, not really caring whether or not I got skin cancer.
"Then may I suggest a swim back to shore, followed by a shower and a nap?" Hank suggested, and I rolled off the rock into the water.
"What are we waiting for?" I asked, lazily back stroking. I drifted along, my chest and head the only things that really broke the surface of the water, and in the end Hank hauled me to shore.
We staggered up to the door, and once inside the house, I pushed Hank into the massive shower stall, taking far too much pleasure in lathering him up. I gave him a soap mohawk, and then took a small step back to admire my handiwork.
"I should have gone to beauty school," I mused.
"Is that so?" Hank asked, placing an enormous hand over my right shoulder and shelling me in. He leered down at me and I just got the hint so I ducked, but too late, he caught me in his massive arms, squishing his soapy fur against my naked skin while I screamed and clawed at him.
"Ooooh, you're like a giant loofah!" I yelled, nonplussed while he roared with laughter.
"Good, I'll get you nice and clean," Hank said, sitting down on the floor of the shower and dragging me down with him. He washed my hair for me, and then we took turns rinsing each other off with the removable shower head before we took turns conditioning one another.
By the time we got out of the shower, we were more or less clean. Hank climbed out first, wrapping himself in an enormous towel, and I followed suit, going back into the bedroom and putting on clothes for the first time in hours. It felt amazingly comforting. But when I went to put on one of Warren's old t-shirts, but Hank snatched it out of my hands.
"Here, put this on," he said, handing me another shirt.
It was one of Hank's enormous college t-shirts, and I laughed when I saw that he had had Warren put wing slits in the back for me. After a little teamwork, we pulled the shirt down over my head, and after Hank pulled on some pajama bottoms, we slipped into bed and nestled up against each other before slipping into oblivion.
Hank and I had this weird way of sleeping together. I slept on my stomach while Hank slung an arm over my waist, while one of his thighs stretched across my butt, my wings tucked in over them, shielding me while I slept. It was comfortable for the both of us, and I found Hank's weight and solidity comforting.
When I woke several hours later, I looked up to find Hank grinning evilly down at me.
"Get dressed my little pterodactyl, you're going to learn how to fly," Hank said.
"But I don't know how to fly," I managed.
"You move your wings all the time, I've seen you over the last few days, now you just need to flap them, and what better time to learn than on the move?" He asked, pulling me out of bed and pushing me towards my bag. He stood there stalwartly in the late morning light staring me down.
Sighing, I pulled out a pair of jeans and a tank top and turned back to Hank. "Shoes don't really fit my feet."
"That's okay, you don't really need them anymore, your scales are like armor, almost like little diamonds from what I can tell," Hank ruminated, then he threw back his head and roared.
I stood there, watching his aggressive posturing, completely nonplussed.
"I suggest you run," he said when he finished.
"I'm not playing this game with you," I remarked.
"Then will you play tag with me?" He asked hopefully. "If I catch you I'll ravage you."
"Hmm, that's not a big motivator for me to run away," I remarked. "Okay, fine. Tag! You're it!"
I ran out the door and away through the garden, shrieking when I heard Hank's enormous weight hit the ground behind me. I ran towards the tree line that headed up towards the top of the mountain.
I pushed myself up, motivated to keep moving by the enormous blue man in hot pursuit. I opened my wings wide, running up the path, my joints shook and twitched until I finally got the strange new muscles to work the joints, and I left the ground behind, flying up to the canopy of trees while Hank shouted and called congratulations before he climbed up into the trees with me and he swung from branch to branch while I flew alongside him, laughing until my sides hurt and I could barely breath. And when we finally turned home, I had a dull ache and I knew that Hank was helping me build up my strength and relearn how to use my body.
I made dinner that night, lobster ravioli in a white wine sauce with garlic bread and sparkling water. By the time we sat down, the rain had begun to fall, and lightening crackled and thunder rumbled. Soon after that, Hank lit a fire and we watched the lightening show over the lake before we quietly made love, and fell asleep on the floor.
The phone rang late that night, waking Hank and I, struck dumb for a moment by the sudden ringing that penetrated our little bubble of bliss.
"Hello?" Hank said into the receiver. I studied his feline face as he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. When he hung up, he looked grim. "We have to go back to the mansion. Both of our presences are required."
"What? Why?" I asked, staring up at him.
"Scott wouldn't say, just that we had to come home immediately," Hank replied, and I slowly climbed to my feet and began getting dressed.
While we slowly packed, we ruminated on what could possibly have gone wrong.
"It could be an alien invasion," Hank commented drily. "Wouldn't be the first time."
"Someone could have tried to wax Logan's back while he was sleeping," I remarked, just as drily. I burst out laughing at Hank's sidelong glance. "What, like you've never considered it?"
"You have?" Hank pressed.
"Better him than you," I quipped.
"Touche, perhaps the illustrious Juggernaut tried to join Ororo for tea without an invitation," Hank ruminated animatedly.
"Maybe Bobby pulled a prank on Emma," I commented, and Hank burst out laughing.
Throwing my bag over my shoulder, I took the keys off the table by the door. "I'm gonna go put these bags in the car. I'll be back soon to help you finish up."
"Alright my dear," Hank said, carefully folding another shirt.
Heading out into the misty evening, I set off down the hill towards the car park, stopping short when I heard voices speaking in the darkness.
"Mutants are staying up at the cabin," one of them seemed to be saying. "Some crazy blue thing and a lizard chick."
My heart tried to claw it's way up into my throat, and I crept across the tree line and into the forest, my keen eyesight picking out the path of least resistance until I was kneeling on the bluff, looking down into the lot and staring at the men talking in the darkness.
"We can't just let this stand, these people have polluted our population long enough," said another.
"Then let's get this party started," said a third, lighting a rag that sat in a bottle of whiskey. When the rag was lit he chucked it at Hank's car, and I turned on my heel and ran into the darkness, breaking the tree line, my fear and instincts kicked in and my wings spread wide and after a moment of unfamiliarity, the muscles snapped to attention and I flapped once, twice, thrice, and took flight.
I managed to make it up the hill to the cabin, and crash landed in the garden, forcing myself to my feet, I limped up the stairs and slammed the door open.
"Come on, we gotta go now. Some locals trashed the car, sent a molotov cocktail through the back window on your car and they're headed this way, barely made it here ahead of them," I explained quickly, dropping the bags. Throwing my handbag over my shoulder, I pushed at Hank until he grabbed his wallet and we snuck out the bag, slinking into the trees and crouching down when Hank judged us to be far enough away. We watched in grim fascination as they ripped through the house, shouting and cursing.
"Search the woods! We can't let them get away!" They called, and Hank tapped me on the shoulder, and we left quickly, heading up the mountain and deeper into the wilds.
We moved in silence, pausing only long enough for me to put Hank's wallet in my purse. When we reached the crest of the mountain, we could still hear their distant calls before plunging down the other side of the mountain. Our trek left only the crunching of leaves in our wake. Hank swung from branch to branch for a while, insisting that I cling to his neck. When we were a few miles away, we sat down in a clearing and tried to get our bearings.
"The town we were in, you said it was on the Canadian border, right?" I asked tiredly.
"Yes, indeed. If my calculations are correct, one of Logan's cabins is about thirty miles from here. We can make it in two days if we're diligent about it," Hank explained. "It's late, and we're safe enough here. Let's get some rest and head out at first light," Hank explained gently, leaning back against a tree. I snuggled up close to him, wrapping my fists in his blue fur and burying my head in his chest.
"I'm scared Hank," I said gently.
"I know, me too," Hank replied, stroking my hair absentmindedly.
We soothed one another until we fell into a few hours of broken sleep and woke feeling gritty and exhausted, but forced ourselves to meet the day anyway. We walked in silence for a while, and as the day heated up. I stripped off my shirt and walked along in my bra and jeans.
"My my, keep undressing we'll never make it to the cabin," Hank commented from the trees.
"Don't you know that's my way? To seduce you out here in the woods, leaving you sated and dreamy-eyed?" I asked wryly, grinning up at him. "Or we could play Tarzan and Jane."
"My my, you have quite the imagination," Hank leered.
"I know," I said cheekily. "Or we could play tag."
"Tag?" Hank asked. "But that's a child's game."
"Not the way I play it," I said, suddenly wishing I had kept my mouth shut.
"How do you play it?" Hank asked, staring at me with fascination as he hung from a tree.
"If you can catch me, you can have me, any way you want," I mumbled, staring at my fingernails.
"Then you better start running," Hank said, and I looked up at him to see him, grinning broadly as he dropped to the ground, hanging low and gazing up at me with barely contained glee. "I'll give you a twenty second head start."
I stared at him for a moment, slack-jawed. Then he started to count, and I took off like a shot through the woods. I reached a brook when Hank bellowed out "Ready or not! Here I come!"
Glancing over my shoulder, I saw his enormous blue figure coming at me, and I burst out laughing and took off running, wishing I had the space to take flight in the woods. But I pushed away the unproductive thought and ran until I broke the tree line. Stripping off my clothes and dropping my bag, I waded into the river up to my waist. I crouched low in the water as Hank came to stand on the bank of the river.
"Me Tarzan, you Jane," Hank grunted, sounding for all the world like Lex Barker.
Turning in the water, I headed downstream, smiling as my scales slide smoothly through the water. I did a lazy backstroke, pausing when I heard a loud splash, I looked up to see a very furry, very wet, very naked Beast swimming towards me and I shrieked with laughter as I slipped between the falls of a willow tree and found myself in an enclosed hollow. The water here was still and cool, but not stagnant. The rocks were smooth beneath my feet. I stopped and crouched low, letting the water come up to my shoulders, I pinned up my wet hair and waited for Hank who joined me a moment later.
Carefully pulling open the curtain, he slipped inside, looking around in wonder. I studied his face with a secret smile, taking pleasure in his obvious enjoyment of our small discovery. Then I boldly got up and walked towards him, swinging my hips suggestively and watched the desire in his eyes as I approached him. Pushing up onto the balls of my feet, I kissed him on the mouth, not hiding my hunger or need from this man. We took our time learning one another. We touched and tasted and caressed until the small grotto was filled with our moaning and sighs. And when I finally covered him, my knees cupped in his strong hands, I rode him gently until we climaxed, and then sighing, I rested my head against his shoulder while he wrapped his arms around me.
We were quiet for a long time afterwards, just enjoying the feel of water against our skin. Neither of us had words, nor the desire to break the spell that held us enthralled. The sheer magnitude of our union had shaken both of us to the core, and I wasn't surprised to discover that we were both crying. And then Hank began to talk.
"About a year ago, I broke up with my long-time girlfriend, Trish Trilby. Hmm, I thought we were going to get married. But she called me up one evening, before our big date. I was going to ask her to marry me. But instead she said that an article had been released, saying that our being together was an act of bestiality. That it was unnatural and sick-she left me because she cared more about her career that me. That she saw things the they same way they did and was ashamed. I-I was heartbroken, told the world I was gay so that I could heal, find a way to cope. My new evolved form is more. . . feline that I used to be. Then Cassandra Nova showed up. Told me that I was devolving, returning to the ocean. . . I believed her Wren. I was terribly scared and depressed. Then she possessed a student to attack me. . . It was a difficult time, and when it was over I had to find a way to pick up the pieces again. I-I'm not sure I have it in me again to do that-pick up the pieces, I mean," Hank said gently, studying my features closely.
"If you're devolving then we both are Hank darling, and we are going to go back to the ocean with so much grace and style, mother nature will never know what hit her. And any union that we have is not an act of bestiality, it is an act of grace and beauty. It's why we cry at the end instead of trying to diminish what we are doing here. And I promise you, if you ever need to pick up the pieces again, I will be there every step of the way doing everything in my power to help you," I said gently, lifting his chin so that he gazed into my eyes.
"What about you?" Hank asked, almost desperately, and I took a breath.
"The last relationship I was in was, well, bad. Really bad. My boyfriend, Dan, was a logger, and we lived together in a cabin out in Montana. . . winters were rough, and he hit his girlfriends when he got bored and drunk. One night it was a real bad snowstorm, I was 17 and 3 months pregnant. I was going to tell Danny that night, it was supposed to be special. But instead he came home drunk and started screaming at me about how the house was filthy and that I was cheating on him with the man who checked the electricity meter on the side of the house. He started pushing me around, and I got tired, so I pushed back, and then he pushed me down the stairs, and went to bed. I laid there a long time on the ground, bruised and swollen, bleeding out between my legs. . . I had miscarried," I said coldly, trying to distance myself from the horrible truth of my reality. "Something in me broke that night, and I managed to crawl across the floor and get Dan's keys off the table. I crawled out into the night, taking my barn coat and purse with me. I took Dan's truck and drove as fast as I could through the woods and the snow. Drove until I ran out of gas, barely crept into this little town in Saskatchewan called Fife Lake. Went into a diner, ordered some coffee and pancakes and cried until the town doctor came and put me to bed in her clinic. I was horribly sick for several weeks, but I stayed their long enough to get my GED and I applied for college in New York, came out here determined to make a new life for myself. . . I'm not sure I have the strength to do that again either."
We both sat there for a moment, raw and vulnerable. I tried to pull away, but Hank tightened his grip on my hips, not letting me get away from him. "Wren, I promise you that I will never hurt you, I will always do my utmost to cherish and protect you. I-I want to be in this, with you, if you'll have me."
"I-yes Hank, of course I'll have you," I said gently, stroking his fury cheek tenderly.
Reaching up, Hank gently pulled my head down and kissed me sweetly on the lips, running his talons down my back and between my wings, causing me to shiver. We stayed like that until the twilight peeked in on us. "I think perhaps we ought to get our things, and set up camp."
Nodding at Hank's words, I climbed off of him, stretching out my muscles with a groan of satisfaction, I climbed over Hank, just to be irritating and teasing, onto the soft loamy ground and behind the willow tree. "Hank, come here."
The sounds of splashing water came from behind me, and Hank joined me. We looked down into the small cave in the ground. It made the perfect hollow. It was about five feet deep and ended abruptly in a stone bottom. It was empty and dry.
"Let's go get our things, and return post haste," Hank remarked, and we waded back up the river to retrieve our bags.
When we got back to the hollow, I opened up my enormous purse and rootled about in it for several long moments before pulling out a blanket, a copy of 'The Passion of Mary Magdalen', a book of matches from a club in the City I favored and my toiletries kit. I let Hank set up our nest for the night while I went to brush my teeth and hair. When I returned, Hank wandered off, and I crawled into our nest, opening the novel and sighing deeply. The Magdalen was in the whorehouse, telling her fellow slaves her story in the Celtic Isles, and how she came to meet Jesus, and later, become pregnant with her own father's child, only in the end to be cast out across the seventh wave, and then to be discovered and sold into slavery. My hand rested nervously against my womb, and tears slipped down my cheeks at her lost daughter.
"Wren, are you alright?" Hank asked gently, and I closed the book and snatched my hand away from my stomach, dashing the tears from my eyes.
"Yes, fine," I said tightly. "I need to pee."
I got up abruptly and tramped off into the woods, walking until I found a grove of birch trees and I rested my head against my forearm, trying to compose myself.
"I was going to name you Hannah," I whispered to the daughter I had never met. But when no one responded, I sighed, soul deep, and squatted down to pee. My back rested against the cool birch tree, and I started when an old woman came out of the woods towards me. I wish I could say I stopped peeing, but having sex in a river all afternoon will do that to you, and I rather despised the idea of a UTI. So I squatted there, watching the elderly woman come closer and closer until I finally stopped peeing and stared up at her in awe.
"Come with me child," she insisted. Unable to summon the strength to resist, I let her take my wrist in one hand and lead me into the birch grove. I was still naked, but strangely unafraid. Then the woman took off her robe and placed it on my shoulders, and I smiled at the sight of her ancient wrinkled body, as naked as my own, bearing the beauty of a hundred years worth of wisdom. "You have grieved for 7 years for the child you never knew. What happened was not your fault. Hannah died because the gods didn't want her living in a world where a father like that existed. You will bear more children Wren-bird, and they will be beautiful. Take my mantel, and let Henry into your heart, he will love you and keep you safe."
"Wren? Are you back here?" Hank called, and I looked away for a moment, and when I looked back, I found I was alone in the birch grove, wearing the robe she had left behind. "There you are, where did you get that?"
"It was given to me," I replied softly.
"By who?" Hank asked curiously, coming forward to finger the strange mossy material.
"My guardian angel," I murmured softly, still dazzled by her words. "Come on bubbi, let's go to bed."
"Of course Wren-bird," Hank said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.
Hank and I slept together that night rather uncomfortably, but we managed, and in the morning we companionably put out the fire and got dressed. I put my bra on, but kept on wearing the robe and was grateful when Hank said nothing.
I flew along while Hank swung from branch to branch. We braked for lunch and then kept on throughout the day, we spent another night in a meadow by a brook, staring up into the most incredible night sky while Hank pointed out the constellations and told all of their stories. And eventually we drifted off to sleep.
We made it to Logan's cabin early the next morning, and I set about cleaning things up while Hank fiddled with the radio, trying to get a message to the Institute. I smiled when I heard Logan's fuzzy voice over the intercom and his assurances that he would come with the X-jet to retrieve us. While Hank puttered I went outside, walking down between the trees to the lake behind the house, I picked up a stick and began writing out the Inuit story of Arnaaluk, drawing the images themselves. Feeling more satisfied than I had in a long time, I began writing out the other stories until I was down on my knees in the wet sand, drawing pictures and writing in the ancient language that was as much a part of me as my wings.
Eventually the chopping of the helicopter could be heard, but I kept right on drawing, my movements frantic until two shadows looked over my handiwork with interest.
"This-You can write in Inuit?" Logan growled, sounding more interested than I had ever heard him.
"Inupiat, yes," I replied softly. "I speak it too. You don't grow up on the North Slope without learning a few things."
"North Slope? Alaska?" Logan asked, sounding dazed.
"Mmmm," I murmured absently.
"Wren-bird, it's time to go home," Hank said softly. "You can write your stories down when we arrive."
I stopped, feeling a little dazed. "Home?"
"Home," Hank said, and held out his hand.