And in record time...another chapter! Was feeling inspired on my 6 hour drive and 9 hour flight! :-P
As always, I deeply appreciate the reviews! Keep them coming!
Chapter 7: Birthday Surprises
The air nipped at Izabelle's face and she zipped her jacket up. The weather had cooled and they had entered into the perfection that was autumn. She glanced over the piles of leaves dotted the huge lawn and smiled; she and the New Mutants had made a day of raking and playing in the leaves. She picked some stems out of her bob as she pushed open the glass doors to the school.
Short hair bouncing, she jogged down to the kitchen and began to heat some cider on the stovetop. The school had a trip to an orchard earlier in the week and she and Hank had gone as chaperones. Of course they had been inseparable and Hank had bought gallons of cider when she expressed a wish-fulness to have some. It had been overkill and she tried to convince him not to but he could be very stubborn. She smiled to herself as she poured hot cider into a mug, remembering his insistence that she accept it.
"Hello, Izabelle!" The familiar and bright voice caused her to smile and she leaned against the counter, facing Jean Grey. Kitty followed behind her and waved.
"What are you having?"
"Cider. You want some?"
"Sure! You seemed to end up with quite a bit of it." Jean smiled and handed over a mug Kitty gave Jean a significant look and nudged Jean. "Speaking of Hank...you two seem to be close."
"Indeed." Izabelle had learned to be a bit guarded with her deep feelings for him; people would misconstrue anything.
Kitty jumped in, trying her own method. "You know what would be amazing?"
"What?"
"If the two of you got together!"
Izabelle choked a little on her cider and put her mug down. "I doubt that would be amazing, let alone likely, Kitty."
"I can see it. He's clearly into you."
"He seems to enjoy spending time with me but I hardly think that warrants a relationship."
Jean saw an opening and took it, "But he is different with you, Izabelle. Hank is friendly but with you he is clearly enamored."
Izabelle smiled at them, but it wasn't a totally convinced smile. "Hank is a powerful, brilliant, and cultured man...I hardly think I'm his type." She finished her cider, now hurrying to get out of there. This was the kind of thing she generally tried to avoid. Clearly he had flirted with her but he flirted with everyone. No, there was no reason to assume anything.
But... maybe she should put some space between them. After all, they had spent most of their time together these days and that would lead people to talk. She regretted having to do it, but it had to be done. She would have to distance herself from him.
They had already planned a play for that night but that did not mean that she could not begin now. She tried to force space between them, but it was hard to enjoy herself this way. She wanted to be close to him.
Hank noticed. She wouldn't take his arm, she stayed a few steps away from him, and she laughed less. It concerned him; was she mad at him? He knew he had been acting much more obvious about his feelings but he expected she would say something to him directly about it if that were the problem.
Though they both watched Cyrano de Bergerac together, they were very much apart from each other.
Hank found himself watching her rather than the play, worry nibbling at him. He took in the sight of her and found himself lost in it. Her stray flecks of hair that never lay anywhere and drove her crazy...her always busy hands with the nibbled nails...the thin crow's feet developing in the corners of her eyes.
A significance broke through his thoughts like a slow sunrise. He really cared about her. She understood him and he treasured her. He had always liked her but she meant so much more to him than just that.
Izabelle glanced at him and smiled, blushing to see him watching her. He was giving her a look she didn't recognize and she noticed him actually watching her. She had to fight every instinct in her to keep still and fiddle or bite her nails. She was torn: if this was the right thing to do, why did she feel so low and dishonest about it? Was there really another option?
The play ended with a sad but sweet note. Roxane never realized who really loved her until it was too late. It seemed almost symbolic to Izabelle.
There was no usual proposition of food and drink as they walked out into the cool darkness. Izabelle's rose colored gown swished as they walked in silence, still standing oddly apart. Hank led them to a park near the theater and, while she seemed hesitant, she did not resist his direction. He motioned her to a bench and stood, arms behind his back and feet planted apart, facing her. She felt nervous. He would not let her behavior go unquestioned and, of all the times this could happen, now she felt that maybe she did not have a tenable position after all.
"I have noticed some...distance from you, Izabelle, and I was wondering if there was an injury or offense which I might apologize for." His tone was repentant even though she knew he had done nothing wrong and the way he spoke made her weak in the knees.
She opened and closed her mouth several times before simply shaking her head. He took this as a cue and sat beside her. "Then what is it?"
His plea cut straight to her heart. "I think we should spend less time together. I think I have been unfair to you."
That was not what Hank had hoped to hear. Goosebumps broke out on his arms. "But...why? Did something happen?"
"No! You didn't do anything wrong. I just..." Izabelle inhaled deeply and made herself at least look him in the eyes. Those brilliant blue eyes. "We can't be together, Hank."
He hoped she was only speaking her thoughts to make sense of them, but the sound of those words still made his stomach turn over. "You don't mean that," came out of his mouth before he had time to register what he was saying.
Now it was her turn to be taken by surprise. He had never opposed her decisions about their relationship before now.
He tried to regroup in a softer way, "Why can't we be together?"
"Because I still fade out and you always forget me like everyone else."
"But I understand you far better than most. We can perfect the serum. And we could work out ways to remember. I currently have some theoretical methods which only need be tested. "
She closed her eyes tightly and he could almost see the struggle within her. Her words came out in a hush, "But that is all so much work. It is so hard..."
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the chirping around them. He felt a little defeated but she was still there, next to him, so he could not quit yet. She was right, though; if they did this, it would be so hard at times. But he did not see that as a reason to give up.
Izabelle broke the silence, "My birthday is this Friday. I have faded out every year since my powers manifested." She said no more and stared at her hands. It was not unusual for her to just say things and wait for his thoughts. He said something comforting but she mourned the fact that he did not take her hand. But that was her own fault. There was another pregnant pause and she could see him mulling something over. He had a way of sitting much straighter when he was contemplating.
"Izabelle...If I could remember you, if there was something I could do. Would that change anything at all?"
After another moment of struggle he saw her nod. "Yes," she whispered. It was not him she wanted to reject, that much was clear now, but it was the control her powers had over her life and the havoc they could wreck. If there was something that could be done, maybe she would be willing to try.
Involuntarily a stupid grin spread across his face. She could not help but notice and her secret smile shone back at him. She dropped her head on his shoulder, relieved. Somehow that had broken the unspoken hopelessness that had settled on them.
"You're right, Hank. I could never avoid you."
He laughed and, offering his arm, led her off into the night.
"Look!" Izabelle stopped walking and pulled on his arm. She was pointing to a very fine looking poster.
" 'X' A gala of fine art," Hank read aloud, "Art featuring and created by mutants."
"That's amazing," Izabelle breathed, "And gutsy. The MRD still needs warrants for arrests but something like this is a public line drawing."
"When is it?" Hank leaned in to read the fine print of the poster, but she was tugging on his arm again.
"Doesn't matter. It's sold out."
"When is it?" He caught "The Soren Carver Center" before she pulled him away. He had known Soren Carver back in the day...
"This Saturday."
Hank motioned a bit awkwardly to Izabelle's door. "Here you are!"
She giggled at him and hugged him. But the hug changed mid-embrace and now there was desire and need. He held her close and buried his face in her hair.
"Hank...I..." Her hazel eyes met his and he could see she was on the verge of something. "I had a good time."
"Oh."
Her heart sank. That had been lame. She unlocked her door.
"Izabelle!" His voice was urgent and he caught her arm.
She was spun around, tripping on the rug in the hall. She fell and and he caught her up in his arms, pulling her close. Her arm draped around his neck for support and as she looked up into his crystal blue eyes she noticed how very close her lips were to his. Everything felt a bit hot suddenly...
He moved a hand up her back and held her waist close against him. His heart pounded in time with hers.
"Sorry," she breathed. The moment passed and he set her back on her feet.
"Not at all."
"What were you going to say?"
"Just...goodnight."
"Oh. Goodnight."
Izabelle felt a storm of emotions as they said goodnight for once and all. What did she want? Maybe he really could make this work out, but no one had ever been able to. However, no one had really tried.
The news that greeted Izabelle on the morning of her fade out was not anything that would help her. The MRD had been publicly accused of mutant testing and now it was "under investigation" though no progress was actually being made. On top of that, the MRD was also working out a new retroactive warrant that would allow illegal search and seizure so long as results were gained.
She sunk back into her bed and pulled her grey comforter over her head. Her birthday was Friday and this was only Tuesday. It would be a horribly long week.
Hank found a note that he could not understand at all. It had been taped across the screen of his computer. It was clearly in his handwriting and he must have put it there. But the person it referred to was not someone he knew.
His gaze fell on a picture poking out from some papers. It was him and a woman he did not recognize on a hay ride with some of the students. He remembered the event but not the woman, which was odd because the look he was giving her in the picture seemed to imply he should definitely remember her.
A note was stuck to this as well: there was an arrow pointing to her and the word Izabelle.
He looked at the note from the computer and back at the photo. He flipped the computer on and searched his files, running a hand through his hair as he did so. He skimmed her file and suddenly it all made sense.
A lovely envelope was waiting for him when he reached his desk.
"What is this about?"
He gently tore it open and found a note and two other items resting in it.
The note read, "As you requested. Look forward to your attendance. Soren."
He felt more confused now and went to his note pad. He could not remember bits of the week, but he did remember that the note pad seemed to always have some solution or answer in his own handwriting.
He rifled through the ones he had already read and glanced at the picture again. The new sticky note reminded him that the present should be there today and to give it to her tomorrow. Tomorrow in all caps and underlined.
So these must be for her, he thought looking at the picture. She really was very pretty...
Izabelle felt so tired she could die. She had insisted on training even though it was her birthday and now she regretted that decision.
She dropped into a poufy chair that was placed by a large bay window. The sun was just beginning it's decline and she began to drift off in the chair, warmed by the sun.
"Izabelle?"
She jumped up, stunned to be hearing his voice now. There were people here and there who still did not remember her and yet, here he was, actually looking at her like he knew who she was.
"Hank? How do you...?"
"Remember you? Well, that is part of my two fold birthday present. Which part would you prefer as the preliminary?"
She smiled and he hung his head around her chair as she sat back down. "How you remembered me first, then."
"I have devised a system that uses loopholes in your mutation." She looked confused so he explained. "I began with a note I wrote myself in advance. I knew that note would lead me to look for more information. After a trail of these leading me to more and more information that could only have been provided by myself, I learned to trust these notes and clues to inform me about you."
It began to make sense.
"Basically, I created memories of the information about you that were not directly tied to you. I still could not remember you but I could remember the notes and things they told me about you."
"But you never looked like you even remembered things about me. You even asked who I was at dinner only yesterday. How are you here now?"
He smiled a little half crafty and half embarrassed smile. "Your smell. Your skin...your perfume...your shampoo...Scent is the deepest connection to memory that we have." He finished off the statement by nuzzling the crook of her neck, earning a giggle.
"And what d o you mean by information about me?"
"Well, that is actually a misnomer. But that is very closely tied to present number two. So I will have to give you that one first."
From his sleeve Hank drew out two black and gold embossed tickets. The letter X was prominent on them and she gasped aloud. "Happy Birthday, Izabelle Mia Rowan."
She took them as if they would bite and stared at him. "How did you get these? They have been sold out for over a week!"
"I knew Soren Carver and he owed me a personal favor."
"But you didn't hear of any of this until last weekend. That means you..."
"Called him, ordered them, and received them after you had faded out. That is what I mean by information about you, in answer to your earlier question."
"I can't take these."
"Of course you can. They were of no cost to me and they are for you. Though of course you may do with them as you wish."
"Whatever I wish?"
Her tone made his senses jump up. "Yes. Of course."
She was staring straight into his eyes and he was almost afraid to look away.
"I want you to come with me. To the gala."
"I would be more than glad to add this to our list of-"
"No, Hank, you don't understand."
He stopped.
"I want you to come with me. As my date." Izabelle's heart was in her throat when she said this and she was so nervous she felt sick. He had remembered her. Against all odds and unlike all others he had remembered her and even gotten her a significant present during the fade out. Maybe this could happen! And she let the impulsivity of this have the reigns.
"I would be deeply honored to do so. Seven? Tomorrow?"
She nodded.
"I must create some birthday surprise as an after-celebration then. For my date."
She was starting to feel a little sick and she could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. She nodded weakly and they parted ways.
Hank waited till she was out of sight and then waited some more for the hallway to clear. He preferred to cartwheel the length of the hall in private.
As soon as he was out of sight she charged down the hall to her own room. Somewhere along the line she slammed into someone but she did not even stop. She must have some time to think! However, the person noticed her and went after her, slowly but deliberately.
As she lay on her bed she was torn between two poles. One was beaming, overjoyed, exuberant, and exploding with happiness. He would be her date! Not her "just friend."
The other pole kept her stomach rolling. How could she have done this? Nothing was different! He still forgot her in the fade out. He was just better than most now.
There was a knock on the door as it opened and Izabelle jumped up. "Hank, I..." she drifted off.
It was Sam and he looked very serious indeed. "We need to talk."
"Now?" She already had enough to think about.
"This very moment." She remained standing so he continued, holding her gaze as only he could. "I know it'll be of no surprise t' you t' learn that I too have feelings for you." He held up a hand as she opened her mouth. "Please don't argue that simple fact or the use of the word 'too'. You're an intelligent lady and now is the time to act it."
Izabelle felt her face burn. She had tried to ignore for a very long time Sam's affection toward her, hoping it was just how he was. But she did know. She had always known.
"But enough is enough, Izabelle! If you have any caring heart in you, you will get with Dr. McCoy. It's clear you have feelings for him and that he does for you too. So please, if not for yourselves then for me, just get together!" And he left as quickly as he had come.
Her eyes were as big as saucers as the door shut behind him. What was that? Sam had confessed to liking her to tell her that she needed to 'get with' Hank?
But the effect Sam had hoped for was reached. By showing that despite his own feelings he knew what she wanted and what was best for her, the wall she had built had cracked and was crumbling. All it needed now was one final push.