Author's note: Thank you to NotMarge, NicoleR85, Shelllee24, partygirl98, EpicShadowNinja, ZabuzasGirl, Jinxofthe2ndLaw, SoNotYourAverageGirl and kmj1989 for the reviews! Epic, I hope you enjoyed the rest of the story (thus far) as you did the beginning :-)

Today Hank makes a big decision, and I hope it doesn't seem too sudden. A few weeks have passed since Zoey's reveal, so he's had some time to think about it and consider the facts of the situation. He's too intelligent to miss out on an opportunity like this, even if he's still unsure about the whole thing.

I want to thank Jinxofthe2ndLaw for the idea of having Chloe work at Xavier's! Had to mention you here, dearie. Thank you!

Step Two

Zoey's courageous stand in her boardroom did not stay secret for long- such things had a way of getting out, I suppose. The news of a mutant, female CEO of a successful company and her strange-looking husband soon spread like wildfire throughout the United States.

First it was just in the local media- the town newspaper, the radio- but then things really took off. Our phone began to ring from people asking for interviews with both of us. There was an article in the New York Times about us (though we declined to speak to any reporters), and all three major television networks (and PBS) wanted to do pieces on our lives.

"Like I'm going to talk to CBS," Zoey muttered scornfully. "And don't you dare talk to them either, Hank. I'm still mad that they cancelled Star Trek."

"I'm so sorry," Zoey whispered miserably one night a few weeks after her big reveal.

We were spooning in bed together because her tummy had already gotten too big for her to sleep with her head on my chest, the way she used to. Now she used my arm as a pillow, while my other hand rested on her belly.

"I didn't mean for us to get all this attention, for everyone to start wanting to talk to us. Maybe if we just keep avoiding the calls, they'll give up."

I considered that for a long moment.

The media scrutiny wasn't exactly welcome, but as the days wore on my thoughts had begun to stray more and more to Zoey's suggestion all those weeks ago. That I become some sort of representative for mutant kind, an activist to help our people.

At first I thought it was a ridiculous idea. But then, as the weeks passed, people in Salem Center had become much more open to me. The other day a little old lady who had issues grabbing a can of mushroom soup from the top shelf in the grocery store had thanked me warmly when I helped her. Like I was just a normal person.

It was just as Zoey said. Through kindness and sincerity, I was slowly winning them over- changing my little corner of the world, one person at a time.

But after seeing Zoey's bravery, her willingness to risk her company in order to be true to herself... I started to feel like I was being cowardly for not dreaming bigger, for not trying to achieve equality for mutants and humans everywhere.

Since the "discovery" of mutants during the Cuban Missile Crisis in 1962, we'd been an eyesore to the American consciousness. After that incident people knew we existed, but mostly preferred to pretend that we didn't. We made them uncomfortable, made them question their places in the universe. If mutants were "the next step" in evolution, where did that leave the regular human Joe's and Jane's of society?

It was better for us to be out of sight and out of mind, mostly for our own protection. The idea that mutants be included in the Civil Rights Act of 1964 was barely even entertained for the simple fact that there wasn't enough awareness or advocacy for us. Those of us who had a choice hid our mutations rather than face the inevitable discrimination.

We were people, but... not, still. Mutants were something other- especially those of us with physical mutations, like me.

It didn't help that any news coverage mutants had gotten since then was negative. The hate and vitriol the Friends of Humanity loved to spew out gave us a lot of bad press, and at this point there was no counter-argument against them.

The random acts of violence Erik and his Brotherhood committed occasionally in the name of mutant rights also didn't help our public image. He still whole-heartedly believed that a war was coming, and it was safer for mutants if we struck first.

It was as if he was too tone-deaf to realize that humans would really prefer to just ignore us- like the dust bunnies you couldn't reach to sweep up in the corners of your house. Did you like them being there? Not really. But as long as they didn't somehow end up in your food they didn't particularly bother you.

So after over a decade of poor publicity, Zoey's admission had obviously come as a bit of a shock to the American psyche.

From what anyone could tell, here was this young couple with a beautiful house, nice cars, good jobs, and a baby on the way... All in all, they were completely upstanding citizens living the proverbial "American Dream."

And they just so happened to be mutants.

For the first time, the American public seemed to be questioning their long-held opinions of our kind. Despite our differences, physical or no, perhaps mutants were people just like everyone else?

Even if some disagreed, the fact that there were people out there who were even considering it was important. It was like suddenly society was ready to have a conversation about mutants that it had never had before.

And now here was the perfect opportunity presenting itself to reach more people with our message- that mutants were people too, no matter how outlandish and frightening some of us appeared to be.

How foolish and selfish would I be if I didn't take advantage of this, when I could ultimately help so many people? My self-consciousness meant nothing in the scope of such things.

"It's ok," I finally assured Zoey. "Actually, I think we should do an interview, so everyone can see how normal we are."

"What?"

She rolled over onto her back, so she could see my face. I kept my expression impassive as Zoey eyed me incredulously, squinting to see in the dark.

"Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"

I opened my mouth to make some kind of witty retort, but quickly closed it. My suggestion was decidedly unlike myself, after all. Zoey had a reason to be skeptical.

"I've been thinking..." I began instead. "About what you said, about me becoming some sort of mutant activist. I know I told you I didn't want to- I'm not even sure if I can- but this is an opportunity that shouldn't be wasted. For the first time, people are open to learning about mutants. What if we can use this media attention to show them the truth about us? I'm not saying we'll succeed, but I want to at least try. We owe that to our children."

Zoey regarded me silently for a moment before nodding slowly. "Ok," she agreed, smiling. "Though I never thought I'd see the day when you would ask to go talk to strangers."

"I know," I replied dryly.

She slowly reached one hand up to stroke my cheek, playing with my facial hair. I turned my head to kiss her fingertips in response.

"You make me proud, everyday, to call myself your wife, Hank McCoy," Zoey said sincerely, making my cheeks turn purple. "Just so you know."

I grinned sheepishly and leaned in for a kiss- a kiss that quickly intensified into something fiercer, more passionate as she grabbed me and pulled me in for more. I responded eagerly, letting my hands wander all over as hers did the same.

Zoey's hormones had vacillated so widely lately, thanks to her pregnancy, that sometimes I felt I was just along for the ride.

But when this particular mood caught hold I was more than happy to go along.

My hand drifted down her front, lightly caressing with my claws to make her shiver in the way I loved to watch-

And then Zoey groaned, breaking into our heated moment.

"Hold on, I have to go pee," she muttered, sounding quite disgruntled as she got out of bed and tottered over to the bathroom.

"Didn't you just go before bed?" I called to her, feeling rather... ahem, disappointed.

"Yeah, but then I rolled over and the sea monkeys decided to sit on my bladder."

Oh, the joys of being pregnant. Thank heavens I'm a man.

"So do you know what the babies are yet?" Olivia asked.

"No," I replied dejectedly. "They weren't turned the right way during the ultrasound."

She gave me a disappointed frown. "That sucks. I want to know!"

Hey. And I don't?

"Are you going to try again?" Chloe queried curiously.

"Probably not. We'll just think of two names of both genders," I explained, with a heavy sigh. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

When I told Olivia that Zoey and I had an interview on The Today Show the following week, she'd immediately squinted at me doubtfully and announced that I was going to need some practice.

"I don't think I-"

"Yes, you do, Uncle Hank," Olivia had interjected.

"But-"

"I'm not letting you embarrass me on national television!" she'd snapped. "You're practicing. Deal with it."

"I think you just want to pretend to be a reporter," I'd muttered peevishly.

She would actually be the world's best reporter, I admitted to myself. Just a brush of the hand and she'd have the whole story.

So here we were, getting ready to humor Olivia and "practice" in a sun room at the Institute. I was going to be me, Olivia was Barbara Walters, and Chloe would be our audience.

Chloe was now living at the Institute, in a nice little room close to Olivia's dorm. Chloe had told Zoey to rent out their childhood home, because she simply couldn't bear to live there anymore after those awful years with her husband.

Charles had happily given her employment as an attendant for the younger students' free time and a place to live, so Chloe could start rebuilding her life. Olivia and her mother were becoming much closer following Nicholas' suicide, leaning on each other and building a strong relationship that hadn't existed before.

I think it helped that Chloe had by now whole-heartedly accepted mutants, no matter what their forms.

"So, Dr. McCoy, tell me about yourself," Olivia prompted, folding her hands and looking at me seriously- just like Barbara Walters.

I shrugged. "Not much to tell."

She scowled at me.

"What?" I said defensively. "I don't want to talk about me. I just want to talk about mutant rights."

"That part comes later," Olivia retorted. "First, the public wants to know about you. Who you are, what you're like. Otherwise they're not going to care about what you have to say. Right, Mama?"

Chloe smiled indulgently. "Right, darling."

I sighed. "Fine. I'm Hank McCoy. I'm a twenty-nine year old mutant. I live with my beautiful wife and her nosy cats, and at the end of November we're having twins. I've also got a niece who is terrified that I'll make a fool of myself here and who also idolizes you, Ms. Walters. Could I have your autograph?"

Olivia giggled. "Ok, ok. Maybe you're not as hopeless as I thought."