Author's note: Thank you to Sam0728, Torchwhovian, Jinxofthe2ndLaw, NicoleR85, NotMarge, Rasha007, KEZZ 1, partygirl98, Guest, and ZabuzasGirl for the reviews! It sounds like everybody's getting anxious for Zoey to see the Beast! Don't worry, it's going to happen. But Hank's got some issues to work through first. Just trust me, and I hope you guys stay with me for the ride :-)

The Cookie Monster

Six months passed- the happiest six months of my life. The time flew by, but I didn't mind. Holidays, once miserable affairs to be endured, were now mildly amusing events spent with the people I cared about.

Some were more enjoyable than others.

On Halloween Zoey and Olivia cornered me and dressed me up as a zombie (over my vehement protests) so we could take Olivia trick-or-treating.

I didn't want to dress up at all, but I folded under their double-team assault. Both aunt and niece pleaded and coaxed until I cracked, grumbling about their unfair use of pouty faces and my lack of backbone. Again.

"It'll be fun, Hank," Zoey wheedled, putting smelly stage make up on my face while I sulked. "So please stop frowning, you're putting wrinkles in the make up."

If you can pout I can too, I childishly retorted in my thoughts.

"What are you supposed to be?" I asked her, still in a cantankerous mood.

Zoey was wearing an above-the-knee black dress with glow-in-the dark trim and wings. A little set of antenna was perched on her head. Obviously an insect of some kind, but I couldn't tell which.

"I'm Photinus pyralis," she replied proudly. "I like the name 'Pyralis.' It means 'of fire' in Greek, you know. I want that to be my code name."

I felt a tremor of worry- enough to momentarily make me forget my peevishness- at the thought of Zoey adopting a mutant alias. Did she really need one, if she wasn't going to be a combatant? Or was this "just because?"

Better not bring it up.

"It suits you," I mumbled.

Olivia skipped in at that moment, wearing her witch costume. Her brow puckered in confusion.

"What are you supposed to be, Auntie?"

"I'm a firefly, Livie," Zoey replied.

"No you're not. There's no glowing thing on your butt," Olivia retorted.

I burst into laughter at the look on Zoey's face. And with that, all of my perturbation melted away.

Zoey and I spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with Marceline and Billy, having decided to avoid the Grey family as much as possible. I had a standing invitation for dinner at the Rivers' house on Sundays, though.

I fell more and more deeply in love with Zoey as time passed. I loved the way she left little slips of paper with sweet notes on them in books she borrowed from me and returned, how she always stocked her pantry with Twinkies just for me. I found it amusing that she enjoyed watching football and throwing popcorn at the television when the Jets made a bad play.

"Isn't that a pain to clean up?" I asked once, while I was sitting next to her on the couch.

I wasn't even bothering with pretending to watch the football contest. Watching Zoey have a stroke over a lost fumble was far more entertaining.

"Sid will eat it," she replied, thoroughly engrossed in the game.

"All of it?"

"Of course. Have you seen him? He's a hippopotamus," Zoey told me, patting my knee absently while not taking her eyes off the television. "Now hush, darling. The game's on."

I loved her plucky attitude and the way she never let anything dampen her mood for long, even when the board members for her company made snide remarks. For a pessimist like me, she was a ray of sunshine. Talking to her was uplifting, enlightening, challenging. She listened to my theories and understood them like no one else did. I was a lucky man.

If someone had told me on New Year's Eve 1968 that I would be spending the next year's event with a beautiful woman at my side, I would've asked if I could have a sample of the drugs they were on.

For scientific inquiry, of course.

But it wasn't a hallucination. I welcomed 1969 with a kiss from the woman I loved, which was a vast improvement over the previous year. Or any year, really.

Zoey made me happy. And I did everything in my power to reciprocate.

And yet... and yet. My sub-conscious was haunted with thoughts of how Zoey would react if she ever saw the real me.

It was a chilly February day, just past a year since I first set eyes on Zoey Dubois in Marceline's Cafe.

I was looking forward to another long winter evening curled up in front of the fire with Zoey. We were going to play chess in a bit, and I was already planning my victory.

For now she was baking chocolate chip cookies- still one of the only decent things she could make after months of tutelage. Maybe because that was the only food Zoey was interested in cooking. She would live on mochas and sweets if she thought she could get away with it.

It's alright, my darling. We'll live on cookies, Twinkies and our love for each other.

I was sitting on the couch pretending to watch television, but really I was taking every opportunity to sneak in and grab some cookies while she wasn't looking. At first I got away with it (courtesy of my mutation), but she finally noticed after my third unseen illicit foray into the kitchen.

"Where are all my cookies going?"

Uh oh.

I leaned forward, pretending to be interested in Hawaii Five-O.

The back of my head metaphorically began to smoke as Zoey arrived at the conclusion that I was the cookie thief.

"Hank!" she yelled, stomping over to stand next to the sofa.

"Yes, sweetheart?" I asked innocently. I kept my face composed as I looked at her.

Zoey glared at me accusingly, so I mentally prepared myself to do some apologizing for my sticky fingers. But then her expression softened and she leaned down and kissed me fiercely.

Oh! I'll take this over getting yelled at.

Of course I responded whole-heartedly- one kiss from Zoey was enough to send rivulets of pure desire coursing through my veins, my heart pounding in my chest.

My hand reached up to touch her face, luxuriating in the satiny softness of her skin. A nibble on my lip led to my tongue sneaking into her mouth-

Zoey immediately pulled away. "Stop stealing cookies, Hank!" she scolded, poking me in the chest.

"What?" I asked blankly, trying to keep up the facade.

"Oh, stop it. I can taste them on your breath."

Caught. I've been caught.

"You were kissing me for investigative purposes? I'm wounded," I teased, trying to maintain a serious expression. "They're delicious, Zoey, so I can't help it. My compliments to your baking skills."

Yes, flattery. Her biggest weakness.

Zoey rolled her eyes, but I knew my cajoling worked because she was fighting back a smile. My thievery was already forgiven. I pressed my advantage and pulled her down into my lap.

She didn't protest. If anything, she made herself comfortable.

"Maybe I had a good teacher," she noted archly.

I grinned and pulled Zoey in for another kiss, this one slow and intense. One of my hands came up to thread through her hair to hold her to me. She responded and made a small noise in the back of her throat that caused heat to pool deep within me.

The things this girl made me feel.

Everything about Zoey appealed- her intelligent mind, her pure heart, and the beautiful, innocent passion she so willingly offered to me. Everything about her called to the things deep inside of myself. Even the things that frightened me with their intensity.

Zoey adjusted herself so she was straddling my lap instead, giving me better access. My fingers traced along her skin, savoring every inch as I pulled her still closer. Our kisses were languid but passionate, leisurely but feverish.

Behind my eyelids all I saw was white, like the color of an incandescent flame. Heated desire was spooling through my bloodstream, rippling over my skin like a wave at the beach.

I pulled away from her mouth to leave a trail of soft kisses up her neck. She dug her fingers into my hair and made another little sound that threatened to drive me crazy.

"I love you," I murmured against her skin.

I sensed, rather than saw, her answering smile.

"I love you," Zoey replied.

My lips sought hers again as she opened her smoldering emerald eyes, all hazy with passion-

And then her face twisted in horror, and she let out a bloodcurdling scream as she pulled away from me.

"Zoey-?"

She jumped off the couch, tripping over the coffee table in her struggle to get away. Reflexively, I reached out and grabbed her wrist to stop her fall.

"Don't touch me!" she shrieked, tugging to free herself. I could smell her fear.

The hand holding her wrist was blue and covered with fur, with claw-tipped fingers.

"Please, let me go," Zoey begged, tears pouring down her cheeks.

Wounded, I released her. She fell in an ungraceful heap and rolled until she was standing, clutching at her hands. Zoey backed away from me like I was a stalking predator.

"Please don't hurt me," she whimpered. Her eyes darted around, like she was measuring her chances for the exit of her apartment.

"Zoey, it's me," I pleaded, on the verge of tears myself.

She's terrified. But she said she loved me, she told me she wouldn't be afraid-

I stood slowly, as if I were approaching a wounded animal. "It's Hank. I would never hurt you," I told her desperately. "I love you."

I stepped closer, and she flinched like I tried to hit her.

"Stay away from me!"

"Zoey, please, it's me," I begged, coming nearer.

She backed away, trapping herself in a corner. Her sobs were like daggers thrown into my heart. Stupidly, I reached out for the woman I loved to try to comfort her, to assure her that it was still me, her Hank, and I could never hurt her-

"Please, Zoey, it's ok-"

Zoey shrank away, slapping at my hands.

"Stop! Get away from me! You're a monster!"

Monster.

I knew it. I was a wretched creature that no one could love. I always had been, and I always would be.

"Monster! Get away, you monster!"

Her screams got louder until they obliterated everything else.

I woke up snarling, with my heart in my throat and tears starting in my eyes. I bolted upright, gasping for air, adrenaline still pumping through my veins.

It took me a moment to realize where I was- in my bed, at the Institute. It was dark outside still, with not even a hint of the oncoming dawn.

A dream. It was just a dream.

No, not just a dream. It was a nightmare of my deepest fear come true.