Snippets of Time: September and October

September

Hank was surprised to find a large gilded envelope on his desk. However, once he read the return address, he realized what was within and set out to find Izabelle.

September was nearly over and they had been together for a few weeks now and the general opinion was "it's about time!" It had been odd having a relationship very much in the public eye of the school, especially with Beast as one of the original X-Men. But in general, once the excitement died down, it seemed very natural.

Izabelle was surprised to find Hank hanging around outside her Junior English class when she left.

"Look what Soren sent us," he smiled, waving the envelope in front of her.

With an excited squeal she plopped her books on the hall floor and tore open the envelope. Glossy prints slid out into her hands: close ups, wide angle, black and white. Each print served as a reminder of that night, their affection for each other clearly written on their faces.

Hank nuzzled her neck affectionately, looking at the pictures over her shoulder. "They are lovely."

"Can you imagine if we hadn't…?" Izabelle let the question hang but her meaning was clear.

"I imagine he took a leap of faith," Hank laughed.

Izabelle grinned back at him. Looking back, it seemed inevitable. "Which do you like best?"

Hank singled out a black and white glossy of Izabelle.

"But you aren't even in that one!"

"It's who I enjoy seeing. I have no desire to look at myself."

Izabelle smiled and elbowed him gently in the ribs. "Let's see if we can find some frames."

The House floor debates had officially begun. The talk of a detention and retroactive warrant act pertaining to mutants had finally been brought to a more official level.

This was not just a matter of how people felt about mutants. It was a matter of defining what kind of country the US would become and deciding if Americans truly meant that the Constitution applied to all people within the country.

Or so Hank was planning on arguing. Hank had been invited because of his reputation, for both his intellect and his work to maintain peaceful relations with humans. He was well respected and now was when it would pay off.

He had asked Izabelle to join him and she had been very reluctant to do so. She knew herself and her fast temper could be a serious shortcoming when thrown in with powerful people who hated anything related to mutants.

"And how would it look," he called to Izabelle, who was perched on the edge of his bed, waiting for him to finish getting ready, "if I were to show up without my lady love? If I don't have her support how can I ask for that from others."

"You have my support. But I don't have any self-control."

"Nonsense. You resisted my alluring charms for quite some time." He poked his head out from the bathroom, fiddling with his bow tie, and waggled his eyebrows at her. He quickly ducked back in as a pillow bounced off the doorframe.

"Alright. Let's go!" He began for the door but was drawn to a stop. Izabelle was scowling at him.

"You're not going like that are you?" Her voice was flat and cold.

He looked himself up and down. He thought he had done pretty well. She was wearing a grey gown and he matched her, but not it an overwhelming way. His hair was combed, his shoes were shined, and he even had a pocket square.

"You're wearing your image inducer, Hank."

"Oh… Well of course I am. It would do no good for me to be arrested on my way to debate the arrests now would it?" He tried to give it a joking tone but she still scowled at him. He held back a sigh. "Not now, Izabelle. Please?"

"You may as well stay here if that's how you plan to present yourself."

"And what would you suggest?" He was annoyed but she didn't care.

"If you aren't going to be who you truly are then you are just proving their point. And you will even be proving it while you talk to them about why they are wrong. You are declaring that you don't want to be a mutant."

"Incorrect. I am declaring I do not wish to look like a mutant in climes that are hostile to such."

"You never cared before. I don't –"

"Izabelle!"

Her eyes grew huge. She could count on one hand the amount of times he had yelled at her in the months that she had known him.

Hank took a deep breath and braced himself against the wall. "I do not care. Truly. I have been through worse. But you… You're with me. And after tonight everyone will know that." He sat next to her, taking her hand in his own. His familiar blue eyes met hers. "That's danger enough. I won't have you beaten and thrown into an MRD cell. Not for anything."

She let her head sink to his shoulder. Her face rested against his neck and she felt the familiar fur, beneath the projected image. "Why didn't you say so?"

"I did not wish to hurt your pride. I do realize you are a strong capable mutant with massive potential within your mutations, but…I worry."

Izabelle smiled up at him though he didn't look at her directly. Only Hank would avoid showing his own concern to protect someone else's pride. "I'm sorry. I misunderstood."

He smiled at her ruefully. "I agree with you by the way. I will turn it off once we are safely inside."

She blushed, embarrassed. "I shouldn't have –"

"Nonsense," he chuckled. "You keep me from hiding." He stepped back for a moment and looked her over. "And you look stunning."

They kissed for a moment until Hank glanced at the clock. "Time to head into the storm…"

The next day Izabelle woke up in a funk. Things had gone well enough. The tides had been against them, but his speech had been considered seriously. Like the case in To Kill A Mockingbird, even if they didn't win the fact that they made the House debate and reconsider was a step in the right direction. Or so Hank had argued; Izabelle had just been frustrated. She smiled to herself, pouring milk over her cereal. Hank was like Atticus. She loved that about him.

She looked up and he was standing over her smiling. She leaned up and kissed him. "Morning."

A look of confusion was clear on his blue features. "I'm sorry. I think you have me confused with someone else."

The laughter died on her lips when she realized he was serious. He was not looking at her as if he knew her and he had the rigid posture he kept around strangers.

Hank saw the light in the woman's eyes die and felt bad. Maybe she had mistaken him for someone else? He didn't know how that could be, but it was possible.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, taking her cereal with her as she left. "I must have."

She could have argued with him but it hardly seemed worth it. It had been a very long time, to her at least, since she had faded out so she supposed it was due. But it was like someone throwing water in her face. It had come on without any warning and she felt suddenly depressed and isolated.

Later in the afternoon she finally worked up the nerve to try to get him to recognize her. He had told her to try so often she could say it along with him in the same tone. He insisted that it would never get better without trying, without training his mind.

She found him in the lab working on samples for Wolverine.

"Hank?"

He looked up and again did not recognize her, not even as the woman who kissed him that morning. That was the one advantage: no one would remember her missteps and how embarrassing they were.

"Can I help you?"

She resisted leaving right then and instead pulled out an envelope that he had placed in her bedside table 'for such occasions.' She handed it to him.

Hank recognized his own handwriting and gave her a curious look. The woman's huge hazel eyes pleaded with him so he opened it without question. She watched his eyes dart across the page and then he looked at the photo in the envelope.

Beast looked long at the picture and she could see understanding flicker through his face. He looked at her, and the picture again. Before speaking again slowly.

"Izabelle?"

She nodded at him. He reached over slowly and took her hand. Their hands knew each other and he smiled.

In the next thirty-six hours of the fade out, Izabelle had to remind him several times of the dinner he had planned to go to with her. It was embarrassing and she felt horribly rude, as if she were inviting herself to someone else's party, but she knew if she did not he would be disappointed once he did remember her.

She felt conflicted. On the one hand she was angry at him for not remembering her. On the other, was it really fair to expect some sort of immunity from her mutation? He tried to encourage her by having a plan for when it happened, but all the work still fell to her, and it weighed on her.

October

Logan was looking for Hank. Training had been harder on the New Recruits than he had intended and some of them needed stitching up.

His mind wandered as he looked for his blue friend in the usual places. Hank had sure been easier to find before he and Izabelle got together. Not that he wasn't glad for them; Hank deserved to be with someone who made him happy. But it was always odd having a couple in the mansion. It made one more hesitant to just walk into a room where they might be.

Logan could hear voices in the lab and walked there purposefully, recognizing Hank's bass rumble. But something in the tone of their voices brought him to a stop outside with his hand on the door. He listened.

"Are you sure?" Izabelle's voice was low and husky. Logan did not have a great view of her due to the cabinets by the door but he could see her from the waist up. She had taken a bit of a beating during training and that was probably why she was here.

"Only if you feel ready. But now is as good a time as ever. We have privacy." Hank stroked her hair, shirtless as far as Logan could tell. That was unusual…

"I'm just nervous…"

"Not to worry. We will find what works." Hank's voice was soothing and the look he was giving Izabelle began to raise suspicions in Wolverine's mind. They couldn't be talking about…

"I'm ready if you are." Izabelle kissed his hand and Hank walked out of his line of vision.

There were the sounds of someone rooting around in a drawer and a triumphant sound from Hank. "Here's one!"

Logan watched through the gap in the door as blue hands ran across Izabelle's torso.

Izabelle leaned forward and she gasped, looking at Hank's hips. "It's huge!"

Hank's voice took on the particular quality of someone joking with a lover and his voice lowered. "It has always done the trick before."

His hands lingered on her pale skin and then slowly and gently lifted her shirt over her head, letting it drop to the floor.

Logan's eyes were bugging out of his head and he clenched his eyes shut as fast as he could. He could hear Hank gently caress Izabelle's bare skin as she let out a small sigh.

This was not something Logan wanted to be party to. But if he tried to leave now Hank would almost certainly hear him. He was trapped.

He heard Hank whisper something to her and he could not block out the image it created in his mind's eye.

Then Izabelle began to moan.

"Put your hands on my hips. It will help, I promise," Hank coached.

Logan heard her sharp intake of breath before the moaning resumed.

"Just lean forward a bit more…"

Logan couldn't handle it anymore. Decency be damned! He threw the door open with a slam and unleashed his fury on the two of them verbally. "This is a lab! If you can't contain yourselves, take it somewhere else! Have a little…"

He trailed off in mid-sentence. Izabelle was indeed without a shirt, but her undergarments were still in place, as well as her pants. And Hank was dressed in his X-Men uniform; that explained the bare chest.

Izabelle was gripping Hank's hips with her forehead pressed against his chest, though now she had twisted it around to stare at Logan. Hank held a long, thick needle in one hand trailing black thread, paused in midair as he stared at Logan in blank surprise. A gash trailed from the corner of Izabelle's neck to the small of her back. Stitches worked down half of the cut.

Slowly things snapped into place in Wolverine's mind. What they had said…the moaning… He stood in the middle of the room, embarrassed and stunned. Without pausing to explain, he turned on his heel and left, trying very hard to look as if his job here were done.

Izabelle twisted her head back around. What had that been about? But what had he said exactly? One advantage of being in control of memory was that her own memory was excellent. "If you can't contain yourselves…"

With a widening grin she began to understand. As she replayed the words she and Hank had said to one another it was not hard to realize what Logan had heard. Through peals of laughter she explained to Hank what she had just realized. Their laughter carried Izabelle through the rest of the stitches.

Bwahaha! :-D October was inspired by AlwaysFidelius.

Thank you to Mantisfera, Suma99, and adelphe24 for the reviews!