Snippets of Time: January and February

January

Izabelle's stomach rolled as she kicked her feet in the air. She was perched on the edge of a stretcher and watching Hank very closely. Her lovely nails were now stubs and one was bleeding.

It had become much harder for her to control her powers. Something was wrong.

In training she could hardly convey a memory to Xavier, let alone begin to plant one in someone else's mind. She had taken even more of the serum and that had fixed it for a while but now things were even worse. So Hank was again running tests.

While it was the way they had met, this was the least favorite capacity of their relationship. Neither liked the medical/clinical side; it seemed distancing and it was hard for them to not become frustrated with each other.

After what seemed like ages, Hank finally turned to Izabelle and removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What?" her voice conveyed outright terror.

"It's not working anymore. Your body has become used to it. We will have to adapt it for more long term use."

The feeling Izabelle experienced was like being blasted by Sam; she could not breathe in or out as her lungs deadlocked.

Hank rushed to her and took her hand, soothing her. "Do not despair. We are halfway there already. We know what works."

"But to go through all of that again," she gulped out.

He hugged her and she let her head fall to his shoulder. "I thought this might happen but I thought we had more time. I will be most diligent in finding something of use."

Izabelle's head shot up and for a second he thought she had an idea. But the look on her face changed…

"You knew this would happen?" her voice was much quieter but did not convey any emotion. He rushed ahead blindly.

"Well, one can never know these things but I had an idea-"

She jerked her hand out of his and confusion flashed across his face. What was she upset about? He had been preparing on the side for the eventuality.

"So you did know?"

Her tone was dangerous so he gave her a straight answer. "Yes, I did."

"You knew…and you NEVER TOLD ME?" Her voice jumped to a shout unexpectedly. She had never really yelled at him before and he immediately became affronted.

"I did not feel there was any need to give you cause for extra alarm. I had things under control and – "

"I can't stop my fade outs, HENRY, do you call that control?" She jumped off of the stretcher and it skittered a little ways away. She was much scarier with her feet on the ground, even if she was short.

"There is truly no need for shouting, Izabelle." He pulled himself up to his full height subconsciously; he did not like being intimidated by her.

"This is the best moment for yelling I have EVER had in my LIFE!"

Hank reached out toward her thinking if he could hold her she might calm down, but he was greeted with a violent push in the chest.

"You had no right! You had no right to not tell me!"

"Incorrect," he snapped in a brittle tone. "As your doctor, it was my decision."

She stopped dead and stared at him like he was an idiot child. He could literally feel the fur standing up on the back of his neck and arms. That facial expression made him want to hit something.

"As my doctor?"

"Yes."

"So you're my doctor now? I was under the impression you and I were on far better terms than that."

"At any other time, yes. When it comes to these matters, I am your doctor." He could not quite figure out what her problem was with this, since it was perfectly logical, but her raving was getting on his last nerve.

"No, Hank! That's not how this works. If you are my lover, you're my lover one hundred percent of the time! And as my lover, you hid this from me!"

The tension of not knowing what was wrong with her, the fear of going back through testing, and the anger of Hank's hidden knowledge had created in her the perfect storm of fury. She was emotional enough that, when she did go off, it was with explosive force.

"I hid nothing from you. If you had asked, as you have now done – "

"You don't get to hold me one moment and treat me like an unattached object the next! If you had EVER once considered how this would make me feel, you would have TOLD ME! But you didn't!"

Her piercing shrieks echoed down the halls, reverberating as they faded.

In the silence that followed she whispered, choking back tears, "I had a right to know."

Hank was rigid with live fury. How dare she make such a scene and embarrass him like this? The whole school would be here now and every telepath in a mile would be clued in on their fight. He had a long, slow fuse but he finally had reached the end.

He walked slowly up to her and she was suddenly very aware of the fact he could literally kill her with one hand and no effort. He did not even look down at her but spoke to the air just above her head.

"You go to far. I weighed the options and found this best. If you are not capable of seeing this simple fact, then this discussion is irrelevant."

Izabelle crumpled inside. She had pushed too hard and now he was too angry to think about what she was saying.

She heard footsteps and without looking at him turned and dashed out of the door. She slammed into Wolverine and bounced off of him and the wall. Refusing to let him see her cry, she shoved his helping hand away from her and walk-jogged as fast as she could down the hall.

Wolverine watched her go in total confusion. She was really upset and he had heard her yelling, which was a first. There was a roar of anger from behind him and a bending, breaking, crumpling sound. Kicking the door open, alert and claws out, Logan's jaw dropped as he saw Hank, holding his head in his hands, and a decimated metal stretcher in a heap before him.

Izabelle had hidden away for the evening, now rolling into the blackness of night. Bobby had tried to come by and advocate for Hank and she had told him where to go and how to get there in rather limited vocabulary.

Kitty, at an advantage against locks, had brought her cocoa and no words, which made her feel better than anything else could have.

Izabelle was humiliated for losing her temper in such a huge way, but she could not get over the conviction that he had indeed been wrong. She forced herself not to dwell on it and not stoop to wallowing. Giving up on her book with a sigh she flipped off her lamp and fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep.

It was midnight before Hank really understood what it was that had bothered her. He had gone through his day pretending as if nothing had ever happened. When Bobby had asked if he would talk to Izabelle he had asked what about in a tone that ended the conversation.

But though he had avoided it in act he had faced it in thought. And he had realized she was right. He could not think of a single other mutant he would have not told that information to. He had actually kept it from her because they were moving toward being together and because he had hoped to cut out some piece of stress from their potential relationship. And it had been horribly dishonest of him, well intentioned though it was.

Izabelle felt someone shake her and knowing she had locked the door she punched blindly. The pained sound and fur let her know who it was.

"Hank?" She flipped a light on and saw him rubbing his lower jaw.

"How can your aim possibly be that good in the dark?" he half joked ruefully.

She couldn't think of anything to say so she just looked at him.

He noticed her watching him and knelt by her bed so their faces were the same level.

"I owe you an apology," he murmured to her. "I kept this from you to make our lives easier and it was very unfair to you."

"Our?"

He nodded and she could tell he was not lying. "There was already so much tension. It seemed so much easier to just cut off a piece of it and deal with it later…when things had sorted themselves out one way or the other."

"That's really why you did it?"

He nodded once and she analyzed him. He had considered her feelings and his own as well. It wasn't just removed and calculated decision making.

"I'm so sorry, Hank. I misunderstood. I thought –"

"As you had every right to. I never meant –"

As they kissed Izabelle pulled him into her bed. High emotion and the dead of night, combined with long brewing physical tension brought on the heat quickly and with great force. But Izabelle did not want the first time to be like this, and Hank was able to sense that in her.

Hank broke away, a flirtatious half smile showing on his face as he looked down at her. "You piqued my curiosity somewhere in the middle of our spat, my dear. When did we become lovers?"

Izabelle blushed a little but smirked up at him. "Not tonight."

He laughed quietly, pulling her close to him as she made room for him under the covers.

"I cannot, however, vouch for future nights. We shall see…"

Hank grinned broadly at the rare suggestive comment and nuzzled her ear, relaxing and welcoming sleep.

February

February was chill and the novelty of the deep cold had worn off, leaving everyone feeling cooped up.

Valentine's Day came. Logan made the mistake of asking Izabelle why she and Hank weren't going out for Valentine's Day, knowing Hank was a hopeless romantic to the core. He received a sound lecture on the marketing schemes behind the whole "holiday" and on her frustration with a holiday that allowed women to guilt and manipulate their men.

"And invariably it isn't what they dreamed it would be and everyone involved is crushed for no reason whatsoever!" Thus ended the lecture and Logan made a quick getaway.

"You look like you are actually afraid, friend," the congenial tones of Hank sounded from behind him, catching Logan sneaking away down the hall.

"I just gotta earful from your lady about … who knows but she was real angry about Valentine's Day."

Hank laughed whole-heartedly. "I think I could recite the speech along with her at this point."

"What's funny?" Forge had been half listening as he walked to the kitchen.

"Poor Hank here won't be going out tonight."

"Oh? Izabelle mad?"

"Not sure," Logan cut in. "You should ask her about it."

"Hmm…." Forge stopped listening as he resumed his quest. Wolverine grinned dryly at his blue friend and they snuck over by the door. Forge was an easy target and Izabelle loved harassing the body and soul out of him. This would be epic.

There were muffled words, a splash, and a cry of dismay from Forge.

The door swung open and before either could move away, the two men received cold glasses of water in the face. Sputtering they wiped water out of their eyes to see a smirking Izabelle.

"Like I didn't know who was behind this," she drawled, trying to keep the laugh out of her voice.

Hank and Logan exchanged looks and Izabelle realized she had kinda dug her own grave.

Scott was busy showing a potential student and his family around the mansion. They had reached the main hall that divided off into classrooms and dorms. A sound reached them and Scott instinctively pushed the group to the wall.

"Eeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

A squealing Izabelle tore past them as fast as if she were on fire.

Very close behind her was Wolverine, claws in and running as fast as he was able, dripping wet over most of his torso.

Above them Hank was laughing, swinging across the rafters, keeping pace and carrying a cooking pot half full of water.

Out of their sight, around the corner, there was a dismayed cry and the sounds of combat.

"Got 'er!"

Thud!

"Hardly! Hold still!"

"Okay. One…"

"No! No no no no no!"

"Two… Three!"

Splash. Thump. Clang!

Howls of laughter rang out and Izabelle stumbled around the corner, mostly dry and holding her sides from laughing.

Logan followed, then Hank, both of them wetter than ever.

"What is going on…?" The visiting family and Scott had not moved, rooted there by curiosity.

"That little wretch threw me at Hank. Twisted around and threw me over the back of her!" Logan seemed awed enough to not kill her for soaking him twice. He was even smiling.

Hank was the first one to collect himself. "I am terribly sorry. Dr. Henry McCoy. Geneticist, resident doctor, and professor."

He shook hands with the family, dripping water on the floor. Izabelle took a few beats longer, the mention of his title having renewed her giggles, and introduced herself as well.

"We should let these people continue on their tour of our fine establishment," she spoke straight-faced to Logan and Hank. They made a hasty escape but half way down the corridor, they could hear the enthusiastic pleading of a future Xavier School student.

Hank and Izabelle had taken to reading to one another in the comfort of one of their beds, snuggled close for warmth. February had turned into the month of books.

Their tastes in books were similar but clearly not the same.

"I just don't have the…acquired taste for pastorals and sweeping romances you do, my dear," Hank teased one late night, stroking her now longish hair. He liked her hair a bit longer than she did so she had let it grow.

"And I don't have the patience for dry, uninspired research like you do."

The evening light had long since faded and Izabelle became acutely aware of the fact that they may be the only ones still awake. Hank had relaxed around her, his shirt half unbuttoned and cuffs rolled up, and he struck her as more attractive than ever.

He lay on his side facing her. A log in his fireplace, for it was his much larger bed they had inhabited this evening, split and sparks rained up the chimney.

Gently, his blue lips kissed her eyelids, nose, and cheeks. She smiled over at him and gently pushed him on his back, resting her chin on his chest and swirling patterns in his fur.

The restlessness of February, combined with the building intensity in their physical relationship, inspired her to be reckless. Her heart slammed in her chest and her thought was "To hell with it."

Slowly and deliberately, Izabelle pulled her shirt up over her head letting it drop to the floor. Hank's pupils dilated noticeably but otherwise he did not obviously respond at first. He could not tell if the room was suddenly hot, if it was just this damn fur, or if it was the body's excuse for stripping. He decided on the latter and also decided it was a good enough excuse for him.

His own suit shirt fell to the floor and he pulled her close against his body. The feeling of her nearly naked torso against his caused both of them to hold each other a bit tighter, to pull closer together.

Their lips met in the haze of kisses planted on necks, chests and breasts, shoulders, and stomachs. They began to rock together, holding tight to one another, trying to feel as much of one another as they could.

The slow and calculated actions were tossed aside for hormone driven passion. Hands worked over thighs, backs, and rears, daring only tentatively to feel the throbbing spaces between. Hank silently thanked a higher power that she was wearing a skirt.

The tension was unbearable and more pleasurable than could be imagined.

Seemingly without reason, Hank broke away and stared into her eyes. Izabelle made a small gasping sound, not out of emotion but as if having her air cut off suddenly, for his kisses were gone without seeming cause.

"Izabelle…"

Her heart leapt in her throat. This could not be good. She did not answer him.

"I… I don't want…I need to say something to you."

He stopped talking and she waited. He seemed to hope she suddenly had telepathy and after only a few minutes Izabelle couldn't take it any more.

"What?"

"No!" He soothed. "Not anything like that. Stars and garters, no!"

"Then what?" She was convinced it could only be something worse if that wasn't it.

"Would you…would you stay the night with me?" It seemed as if he were trying to be delicate which amused her since they were hardly decent at the moment. He was always the gentleman, always valiant, and if she had not loved him with every part of her before that moment she surely did now.

"There is nothing I would like, nay desire, more, Henry Phillip McCoy."

Something was tickling her back. Izabelle opened her eyes slowly.

That was not her dresser… Hank's dresser. Definitely Hank's dresser.

As her mind woke up she remembered, blushing at her forwardness. She could really only be that way in certain moods and while she did not regret her actions she was surprised by them.

She rolled over and found herself facing Hank.

Hank had been trying to sweetly wake her so she would not oversleep. And now here he was, greeted with giggling.

He tried to look removed, but his annoyance showed clearly. "And good morning to you too."

"Awwww….Don't be cross. I am not laughing at you per say."

"And what would you be laughing at?"

"You snored at decibels I have only heard told in legends and myths!"

Even Hank could not hold back a loud laugh. "I do not snore. You are mistaken."

"Sir," she gave him an exaggerated teasing look, "I was here. I know."

"Well I think it's fair you should know as well then…"

She started to blush without even knowing what he was going to say.

"… that you suffer kleptomania in your sleep. Several times in the night I had to fight you as you slept walked to keep you from taking the valuables of the mansion."

"And you let me go about naked during all of this?" She teased, hoping to get a rise out of him.

"The better to see you with, my dear." He beamed as she buried her face playfully in her pillow.

Izabelle watched his expression turn thoughtful.

"I adore you, Izabelle. Truly, I do."

She kissed his lips lightly and was not surprised when he pulled her back into his arms, against his body, and into passion.

Soooo…I debated on the rating because of this chapter. Personally, I feel this chapter might blur the lines a bit between T and M BUT it will be the only one of its kind. The goal is more to establish where they are at with each other than to set a precedent for other chapters.

Our element of danger will be significantly reintroduced (and named even!) in the next chapter so don't get too cozy!

Thank you to reviewers! You make the world go 'round!