Author's note: Thank you to NicoleR85, partygirl98, ZabuzasGirl, ss, Pyromagmapath, NotMarge, kmj1989, anonymouscsifan, Bamboooozled, and Rasha007 for the reviews! I knew you guys would like that bit of cuteness! Today we start to get the ball rolling a bit. I won't say more, because I don't ruin what's going to happen in this chapter. I willsay that it was strangely fun to write, though. Hank getting all angry and righteous is awesome. Hope you guys enjoy!

Identification

"If you're afraid of the difficulties inherent to stopping mutant crime- something that is exceedingly rare, if you look at the numbers- I suggest you create an environment where mutants would feel comfortable coming forward with their powers and using them with the police force, as peacekeepers," I argued firmly. "May I remind you of the heroic stories of mutants serving our country abroad during the past two decades? The fact that they're just now coming to light doesn't change the fact that mutants have been using their powers to save others for a very long time."

I took a breath, deliberating on whether I should mention Zoey.

Might as well. She won't mind helping me make a point.

"Imagine the lives lost and property damage we could avoid, if only mutants felt safe enough to be completely open about their powers, if they so chose. Pyrokinetic mutants, such as my wife, would be able to utilize their abilities to fight fires right alongside human firefighters," I reasoned. "We could use our powers to help our society, rather than hiding them away out of fear of stigmatization and prejudice. You argue that humans have reason to be afraid of mutants, but the truth is, those suspicions are groundless. They only serve to stop mutants from harnessing their abilities to do all of us a world of good."

"Thank you for the input, Dr. McCoy," Morley Safer, host of 60 Minutes, said formally. "And thank you for joining us."

He turned towards the main camera.

"Up next- what is the Critical Mass Energy Project, and what does it have to do with consumer activist Ralph Nader? You have the questions, and we'll get the answers."

"And cut!" the director called out.

I let out a sigh, relieved that yet another interview was done. I hoped I would manage to convince some people when it aired.

Mr. Safer certainly hadn't pulled any punches with his questions. He wanted to know all about mutant on human crime- no "human interest" piece for him. I'd answered as best I could, but- as always- I wondered if it was enough.

The appeased look in his eyes as he shook my hand told me he was satisfied, though.

This was just one of several interviews I'd done in the past few whirlwind months. Now it was the beginning of October already- only eight weeks until Zoey's due date.

Her belly had gotten so big already that it looked like she was about to pop. For that reason she barely left the house anymore, instead preferring to have Gwen drop off forms for work and making conference calls from home.

You'd think that Zoey would try to take it easy now that she was so heavily pregnant, but you'd be wrong.

I lost count of how many times I came home to find her in the midst of a cleaning frenzy, practically attacking the windows with Windex or vacuuming while singing in a horrifically off-key voice that made the cats run and hide in terror.

Zoey re-painted the babies' room at least three times because she couldn't decide what shade of blue she wanted. And she'd rearranged the baby furniture in the sitting area of our bedroom so often that I lived in constant fear that she would seriously injure herself while I wasn't there.

"What?" she'd demanded sheepishly. "I'm nesting."

"You're going to hurt yourself. Please, take it easy," I'd pleaded. "Just tell me what you want moved, and I'll do it for you."

And she'd listened to my entreaties, thankfully. The next day when I came home she was sedately watching Hogan's Heroes while polishing the silver tea set we got for our wedding.

I wonder what she's going to be up to today, I wondered to myself as I pulled into our garage after the 60 Minutes interview.

"Sweetheart, I'm ho-" I called out as I entered the kitchen- but then I cut myself off when I saw Zoey sitting at the kitchen island eating ice cream.

I grinned at her sweet tooth.

"Really? Ice cream before dinner, darling?"

"Yup," she replied, smiling at me over her shoulder. "Hello, baby. How'd it go?"

"Really well, I think," I said, coming closer.

I placed my hands on Zoey's shoulders, leaned in to kiss her-

And froze.

I"m not sure what tipped me off the most over the fact that the person sitting in our kitchen was not my wife.

Perhaps it was because I could see she was currently eating my strawberry ice cream, even though she was allergic. Or how she'd just called me "baby," an endearment she'd never used before. Maybe it was the wrong smell- Zoey had an innate flowery scent, currently overlaid with pregnancy pheromones. This stranger smelled completely different, and was decidedly not pregnant- despite her rounded belly.

Those were definitely contributing factors, but I truly think the biggest hint was the way nothing in this impostor-Zoey's eyes sparked that inexorable pull I'd felt towards my love since the moment I first saw her. I could only see a cold stranger, staring out at me from my wife's face.

Which could only mean one thing.

Raven.

My hands tightened in barely-suppressed rage, making my claws dig into her flesh without quite breaking the skin yet.

"Where is she?" I demanded.

"What?" Raven squirmed, wincing in pain. "What's wrong? Hank, stop that- you're hurting me-"

Hurting. What did Raven do to her? Zoey could be injured somewhere- the twins-

The first night I ever spoke to Zoey about my feral half I told her that it would be very difficult for me to hurt a woman, even in my Beast form. It went against instinct to harm a female, even if she punched me in the face a few times.

I'd just found an exception.

The idea that my pregnant mate was hurt, somewhere out of my reach, completely overrode anything else.

"Where's my wife?" I snarled, shaking Raven.

"Hank, it's me-" she whimpered in Zoey's voice.

I grabbed her neck and roughly pushed forward, forcing Raven's head against the countertop as I twisted her arm behind her back in a chicken wing hold.

"I know it's you, Raven," I hissed. "What have you done with Zoey?"

Raven gave a little huff of annoyance and morphed into her natural blue form. "How'd you know it was me?"

"Tell me where my wife is," I retorted.

"Oh relax," she replied sardonically. "Little Miss Perfect is locked in your bedroom closet. Probably doesn't even know it yet, either. How do you put up with that godawful singing, anyway?"

I paused, listening intently.

Sure enough, I could hear Zoey's voice faintly floating down from upstairs. I had the vague suspicion she'd decided to re-organize our closet today.

I don't think I've ever been more thankful to hear her butchering an Elvis song.

I relaxed somewhat and released Raven, immediately turning on my heel to go let Zoey out of her impromptu prison.

"Hey, don't you want to know why I'm here?" Raven threw at my back, before I'd taken three steps.

No, not really. I liked it better when I saw you but once a decade.

I opened my mouth to make a biting retort, but reconsidered it after a moment.

Yes, she'd just pulled a childish and tasteless prank- pretending to be my pregnant wife and locking her in a closet wasn't something I would forgive lightly- but Raven had also helped me save Zoey earlier that year. For her own manipulative reasons, sure, but still.

It was enough for me to turn around and raise my eyebrows expectantly.

"Only if you say it quickly," I replied testily.

She smirked and lounged provocatively against the counter. "You've made quite a spectacle of yourself this past few months. People are noticing, but not in the ways you probably hoped."

"And?"

"Well, I've been spying on Senator Kelly for a month or so now, pretending to be one of his aides," Raven explained. "And he's been drafting a Mutant Registration Act. He's going to announce it next week."

My heart sank.

A proposed Mutant Registration Act?

Even at face value that didn't sound good, but I could guess what something like that would entail: identifying mutants openly, unwillingly. Allowing the government to track our movements at all times. Forcing all of us to wear something that made us identifiable- even those of us who could hide what we were.

It would make us all moving targets.

And I had a sinking suspicion that everything I'd done until that point- all the interviews, the debates, throwing myself onto the pyre of public opinion- had only served to bring this unwanted legislation upon all of us.

I just wanted to help, and I made it all worse.

Raven watched my expression fall with a little smile on her face, like she was getting some kind of sick amusement out of my disillusionment.

Don't let her rattle you, McCoy. We'll think of something. Somehow.

I nodded slowly. "Alright. Message received," I said calmly. "Thank you. Now please see yourself out of my house."

She scowled. "That's it?" Raven hissed. "You're just going to-"

"What do you expect me to do, Raven?" I demanded icily.

"To fight," she snapped. "I told you this would happen, that the humans would never accept us. You know this is only first step, Beast. First they identify us, then they round us up and leave us to rot- or kill us outright. But if we strike first-"

"We prove them right for hating us, and provide the justification needed for legislation like this," I interjected. "It doesn't have to be 'us' versus 'them.' Kelly's not going to get the support necessary to get that bill passed unless mutants do something to provoke public outcry."

She shook her head disbelievingly as I gave her a meaningful look.

Ahem. Take that back to the Brotherhood, please.

"Violence is never the answer," I said firmly.

"Fine," Raven retorted, spitting out each word with palpable venom. "Be a blind fool, but don't say I didn't warn you. Just go back to being a dancing monkey in a suit, until the humans get tired of you. Then you'll just be an easy target. You, what's-her-face and your little Beast spawns'll be the first ones they nab-"

Her diatribe cut off abruptly as a small fireball exploded at her feet.

"That's enough of that," Zoey's voice said behind me. She sounded furious, but I couldn't say I blamed her.

Uh oh. Raven, you should've left while you had the chance.