I do not own X-Men anything.

You'd think I'd run out of words by now. You'd be wrong.

Reaching Out

Chapter 12: Aesthetic Considerations

Hope perused the stores along the strip, looking for something special to cook to surprise Hank and the others in Xavier Manor. Well, mostly Hank. She wasn't sure yet what she was looking for but she figured she'd know it when she saw it.

As she walked along the busy street, she observed many different types of people. Male, female. Short, tall. Heavy, thin. Dark, light. Young, old. Well-to-do, poor. Healthy, ill. Smiling, frowning.

They were all interesting in their own special ways. They all had something to offer, something to teach, something to share.

Though she preferred some of them share with people other than her.

Suddenly one person walking toward her caught her eye and she almost walked into a parking meter trying not to stare at him.

He was big, for one thing. Not freakishly big but built with muscle and height and presence. At least as tall as her Hank. He wore jeans, a white undershirt, leather jacket, and boots.

As solidly built as he appeared to be and considering the boots he was wearing, Hope almost expected the ground to shudder everytime he took a step.

It didn't.

Another striking thing about him was his face. He wore big, dark shades (Hope always hated those; she felt like people hid behind them) and his dark, brooding scowl was evident even behind the reflective barrier he wore. And of there was his most curiously groomed dark brown beard. It was just, well . . .

She kept getting the feeling she'd seen him somewhere before. It lingered at the back of her mind, humming just out of reach like a dragonfly on the wing.

She noticed his hair last and didn't know how she had missed it.

It was brown and curiously styled and the beard seemed to connect with it right up into his sideburns. It lent him a wild, animalist aura.

Whoa, groovy hair, Wolfy.

Then he swept past her in the crowd without a single glance and was gone.

Then inspiration struck and Hope suddenly knew what she was going to do. It was totally different than what she had originally intended. She would need shearing scissors and Chloe's back up.

She was pretty sure she'd get both.

"Well, you know, I think I'll just wait on that," Charles was saying, rolling slowly backward. "But I do appreciate your offer."

Hope advanced carefully like a stranger to a jittery kitty cat.

"It won't hurt, you know. I do it all the time in my dorm."

Charles continued his mannerly retreat.

"I'm thinking of taking care of that myself tomorrow. So as you can see, there's really no need."

Hope grinned wickedly.

"I know, sweetie. But you know, we've got tonight . . ." she began.

". . . who needs tomorrow?" asked another female voice behind him.

Charles' slow roll stopped as Chloe gripped the handlebars of his wheelchair.

"Boy, I'm sure glad you showed up so this doesn't have to be a total boy's club, Chloe," Hope quipped mischievously.

He glanced at her and then behind him to Chloe. Who smiled devilishly and then exchanged mischievous winks with Hope.

And then Charles knew his goose was cooked.

He called out with his powers to the other males of the Manor. Surely they would understand and come to his aid.

Alex?

Hey, man. 33, 34 . . .

I need your help with the girls.

Ah, attractive, smooth guy like you. 38, 39. You got this.

That is absolutely repulsive, Alex. They're my friends.

43, 44 . . .Well, not entirely repulsive. They are hot and it's the '70s, man.

Alex . . .

Fine, just kidding. Jeez. Got cheeseburgers? 47 . . .

No . . .

Then you're on your own. 49 . . .

He tried Morty, Ink, and Max.

Gentlemen, a little assistance, please.

Sorry, sir, but Chloe threatened to clobber us if we helped you tonight.

Lads, she's only a girl.

Oh man, do not let her . . . yes, Spock! . . . hear you say that!

Now, you know, I am in charge of this manor . . .

Yeah, but she'll . . . ah don't say it, Kirk! . . . cut our butts off, man.

Aggravated, his head currently being spritzed with tepid water, Charles cried out to Hank.

Henry, my dearest friend . . .

Sorry, Charles, elbow deep in an experiment here. Just can't get away.

But they'll listen to you.

That's funny that you'd think that, being an intelligent man and a telepath and all.

Oh, but the humanity of it all . . .

We're mutants, Charles. The mutantity of it all. Hey, mutantity, mutiny. Get it?

And so, without friend or ally, all abandoned and lost to those who held him withstrained and helpless, Charles was left alone to face the evil women who bound themselves in guise of innocent, lovely girls.

And they, together, they did it.

Together, they both did it to him. And he couldn't stop them. Those girls took advantage of the poor, helpless, crippled man in the wheelchair.

They cut his hair.

When it was over, he felt a bit violated and quite shorn.

Even if it didn't hurt in the least bit and looked rather good when all was said and done.

It was the principal of the thing.

Odd how easily they convened from time to time. As if called by an unspoken force to gather together and discuss things.

"You know, not to be shallow or difficult, but the lawns look kind of bad," Alex said conversationally to Charles.

"Quite right," Charles commented easily.

"Hey, you got money, right, you're loaded," Peter started talking almost before he appeared. "Why don't you just pay someone to come clean it up?"

Chloe joined the conversation, seemingly having popped out of the ground.

"We could do it you know, it'd be . . ."

"Torture," Peter added helpfully.

"Insane," Alex suggested.

"Team building," Hope finished, having snuck up from behind and wrapped her arms around Hank. Who did not mind at all.

Hank, absently playing with her fingers, considering the fact that the woman he loved and his pancake girl had both simultaneously lost their marbles.

Charles remained quiet for a long moment, much too long for Peter's liking.

"Well, it's been a gas and all, but I'm . . ."

He was going to say 'off' but Charles laid a hand on his arm and replied for him.

". . . in charge of mowing. I'm sure we can repair the push mower."

"The what?" Peter said, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

Charles commented, "Yes, this would be a good team building activity and everyone could practice using their powers in a controlled environment while accomplishing something at the same time."

Peter folded his arms.

"Well I suppose I could spare a few sec . . ."

Charles interrupted him.

"And since we want the lawn to look good, you'll need to move at half speed, I think."

Peter balked.

"Ah, man. Really?"

Charles nodded his assent.

"And you'll need to cut it at least twice."

Chloe challenged Hank to a competition to see who could use their powers to lift and carry the most brush, stray branches, and other refuse. Hank, in a wonderful fit of freedom, allowed the beast to take the challenge. At first he felt conspicuous and uneasy about his appearance until he realized that nobody was watching him. Except Hope who seemed to be in the process of smiling herself to death.

Alex assisted the pair of them by chopping down over grown shrubs and tree branches with his power rings.

Ink and Morty found a positive outlet for their powers by stopping legions of biting, buzzing, stinging insects literally dead in their tracks.

Hope convinced Max played catch football and Frisbee in and around the workers as civilian dodge practice.

Charles encouraged everyone and occasionally thwarted Beast's and Chloe's competition by freezing them in place and challenging them to block their minds from him.

He also insisted on distracting everyone's work with kooky brain teasers.

Five minute water break to anyone who can tell me where do dishonest berries grow r-egularly?

Man, that's totally cheesy.

The li-brary!

Very good! Chloe still gets the break!

Still cheesy, dude.

Hank fumbled a few large branches as Hope flew through his line of vision.

Wow, she really does catch every time. Even with all the bending . . . and stretching.

And Hank wasn't the only person with working eyes.

Ink, performing mass insecticide on a colony of wasps angrily defending their nests, was distracted momentarily by a certain green-eyed pixie girl. Chloe, who was performing an impromptu victory celebration over beating Hank's current record, caught his eye with her happy dance. His focus wavered and nearby, Hank felt his stomach flip over. He gritted his teeth until the sudden wave of nausea passed and resolved speak with Charles about Ink's target practice under stress.

Peter even stopped in his flashing mowing long enough to complain.

"Hey, why do they get to play while we work?"

Alex and his roving eyes, replied before his brain caught up with his mouth.

"I don't know but all that bouncing around is sure making me feel better."

Hank, cuffed Alex on the head with a tree branch slung over his shoulder as he walked by.

"Ow!"

Hank maintained a straight face as he spoke.

"Oops, sorry, that must've slipped."

Peter pointed and belted out a laugh at the surprise on Alex's face then sped off with the push mower once more.

Chloe turned around, agog at Hank.

"Did you just make a joke?" she mouthed silently.

Hank shrugged and winked conspiratorially.

Chloe burst into gales of laughter and Alex rubbed his head, grumbling.

After swiftly completely his mowing duties, Peter appeared at Charles' side.

"Hey, you don't mind, do you?"

Caught off guard, Charles was immediately lost.

"Mind what, Peter?"

Smirking, Peter clapped his hands together.

"Thanks!"

And he was gone. Charles shook his head, resigned.

"I really should control him."

But I just can't.

When Charles called for a good morning's work, they found Peter in the kitchen with stacks and stacks of hot pizzas.

He looked at Charles and said with an impish grin, "Don't worry, I put your credit card back."

Charles suppressed a glare and oncoming lecture to Peter. It did smell quite good.

"Pizza," Alex said with a grimace. "Ugh, I'm so hot I think I'm going to be sick."

Peter grinned.

"Well, in that case . . ."

He flung open the freezer to reveal boxes and boxes of ice cream goodies.

"Whoo-hooo!" sang Ink, making everyone jump.

It was the first time anyone had heard him speak above a whisper.

Hank woke up and lay still in his bed.

Well, that was a weird dream.

He got up, and looked outside at the neatly manicured lawn. smelling freshly cut grass even through the closed window.

And burped cookies and cream ice cream.

Wasn't it?

If you thoughts this gonna be serious, then tricked ya! ;) (Yes, yes, there will be angst again in several chapters.)

So who was that mysterious stranger you might ask? Well, who do you think?

Haha, too early for that Kenny Rogers ref (1978) but they didn't sing it. They said it. Totally different! *smirks at poor Charles

Hey, I've Been a Labrat, how cool is it that we both publish about Charles and haircuts on the same day? Dude, I swear I did not plan this!

Yes, the last part went totally campy. But seriously dudes, I hate mowing the lawn with my crummy little push mower in the flipping dead of summer. Blech!

Thanks to angeleye02, I've Been a Labrat, MoonlitShadowsoftheHumanSoul, brigid1318, and lol (& your honesty) for choosing to review.

You know, it'd really be amazing to fly . . .