Author's Note: Thank you so much to NotMarge, ChiefPam, and HintOfGrey for reviewing! Also, thank you to you silent readers out there who at least gave this a look. I have a story written out to a certain point, but after that it's pretty up in the air. Lots of ideas, but I want to execute them properly (hopefully). The stuff that I already have written will probably be added to and expanded as I go along. This chapter certainly bloomed out of control a little as the night went on. It started off really simple, but somehow I veered off and Hank got to take a tiny, tiny step towards self-actualization. Crazy, right?

Disclaimer: I don't own X-Men. I do, however, own Billy and Zoey, the girl that's got Hank so twitterpated.

Choices

Charles didn't bother me the next day, leaving me to the wonderful world of science and the barely controlled - and yet utterly peaceful- chaotic sanctuary that was my laboratory and research.

The beauty of the machinery that made up our cells, the most basic building blocks of every living thing was absolutely breath-taking to me. One cell was like its own tiny galaxy, and yet it combined with others to make up tissues, and then organs, and finally organisms. So really, every organism was like a universe in itself, full of millions and millions of galaxies...

I could wax poetic about cellular anatomy for hours. Not that anyone would listen if I did.

But I hadn't reached the point where I was speaking to inanimate objects yet, so I took that as a sign that I wasn't crazy. Yet.

My nosy mentor and so-called friend clearly thought otherwise.

On Thursday afternoon Charles appeared in my laboratory once more, looking much too suave for a school master wearing a sweater and tie. Anyone else would've looked like Mr. Rogers, but not him. I blamed his sophistication on the fact that he was British. The man just couldn't help it, really.

Something about his expression made me instantly wary, so I immediately pretended to be occupied with an experiment. I hypothesized that he wouldn't bother me if I looked like I was doing something important.

"Get out of here," Charles ordered blithely, hands folded serenely in his lap.

So much for that theory.

"I'm busy," I mumbled, not looking up from the microscope slide I was preparing.

"Hank-"

"I just went out the other day," I argued, like a petulant child.

"And you said it wasn't all that bad," Charles said patiently.

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I feel the urge to repeat the experience so soon," I replied.

Ok, maybe that was a bit of a lie. I wouldn't mind seeing that girl again, if she happened to be at that cafe.

Charles seemed to be aware that I wasn't being completely truthful- there wasn't much use in hiding something from a telepath, after all. His smile was rather smug.

I had a feeling he'd been keeping tabs on me while I was out in the village the other day to make sure I was alright. I couldn't decide if I was grateful for his caution or offended that he didn't trust me to not lose my self-control in public.

Or maybe Charles wanted to be sure I didn't just hide out on the roof for a few hours instead of leaving like he'd told me to. There was that, too.

"Get out," he repeated, smirking.

Option two, then.

Like I'd actually try to hide from him on the roof. Now I really was offended.

"Fine," I sighed, fully aware that he would badger me (in pure Charles Xavier fashion, all reasonable and polite- how annoying) until I gave up and left. "I'm going."

I put away the wet mount supplies and took off my lab coat while Charles waited for me to leave with an infuriatingly self-satisfied look on his face. Like he'd just taught me how to solve a difficult math problem on my own.

"Have a good time," he said cheerfully.

And that's how I found myself at Marceline's once again, grumbling to myself about prying, tea-drinking school principals who really should have better things to do other than bothering a reclusive scientist who just wanted to be left alone with his microscope.

"Just a coffee, please," I told the shopkeeper- Billy, apparently- when I got to the counter of the cafe.

"Sure you don't want a scone, too?" he said in a wheedling tone.

"No, thanks. I will take a piece of sponge cake, though," I replied.

It was the least I could do, considering the fact that I planned on sitting here for hours.

And besides, sponge cakes were like Twinkies, the most wonderful food mankind has ever come up with.

"Coming right up."

"Thank you."

I sat in the same spot as before, unable to stop myself from looking up every time a new customer entered. I was hoping the girl with the iridescent hair would show up again.

And so she did, walking into the cafe like a summer's breeze despite the fact that it was barely forty-five degrees outside.

"Hi, Billy!" she said, in that musical voice of hers.

Had she gotten prettier since the last time I saw her? It certainly seemed like it.

Instead of going to the counter to order, she went straight over to her spot by the window and set down her things. The book bag gave a rather heavy-sounding thud as it hit the ground.

"The usual?" Billy called from behind the counter.

"Yes, please," she replied with a small laugh. It sent a tingling sensation down to my toes.

I surreptitiously watched her wander over to the book section, which was actually rather large. Next time I came here I'd have to check it out- I didn't want to seem like I was some kind of creepy stalker who was following her by going now.

Next time? I'm already planning next time?

Grumbling internally to myself (Charles, what have you done to me?), I watched the girl bring a book over to pay for it, and her drink. I recognized the cover- it was The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton.

A woman after my own heart.

Once again, I spent hours alternating between reading and watching the girl with the iridescent firelight hair study, until it was time for me to go back to the Institute for dinner.

On Tuesday of the next week Charles appeared in my laboratory again, ready to kick me out.

"Charles, really-" I began to protest.

"Just go."

I rolled my eyes, but set off obediently.

Maybe I was secretly glad that I did. The girl was there again, chewing away at her ballpoint caps while she studied. I idly wondered if she'd ever had a pen explode on her from doing that. Would she be annoyed, or ruefully laugh it off? Something about the way her eyes danced made me suspect the latter...

Oh, no. I'm staring and acting weird again.

Thankfully she didn't notice the bespectacled nerd gawking at her from across the room, being much too engrossed in the gene expression text she was currently poring over. I didn't blame her for her focus; I could certainly relate.

She was there on that Thursday as well, when she bought another book- Lady Chatterly's Lover, by D.H. Lawrence. Clearly, she had a love for the classics.

By Thursday of the next week, Charles merely had to appear in my lab for me to get ready to leave. On Tuesday of the fourth week Alex had the audacity to smirk and note that Charles definitely didn't have to try so hard any more.

Then Thursday afternoon came, and Charles did not. I waited for him to show up and tell me to leave until a quarter past four to no avail.

It was clear that from now on, the choice to stay or go would be mine. Like a fledgling bird, Charles was giving me a chance to choose to stay in the nest or jump out of it of my own accord.

Personal growth is so uncomfortable. It's oftentimes painful to tear down the walls and limitations you've created in your own head and broaden your horizons beyond what you thought yourself capable of. I suppose that's why people take drugs- it's expanding the mind without all the hard work.

And not only that, it's the people who care about you the most that can be the most demanding, especially when it comes to what is in your own best interests.

Damn you, Charles.

The choice was mine to make that day. Stay or go.

I didn't know it at the time, but I was at the bottom of a staircase. All I could see was the first step. A simple decision- sometimes the biggest changes in your life are caused by choices that seemed inconsequential at the time.

Stay or go.

I wanted to see her again.

So I went.