AN: Thanks again to the lovely people who review I like attention :)

Choas Babe: Vlad is going to get his revenge, but since I haven't written that, yet, you're all going to have to wait.

Readerrr Grrrl: ::grin:: glad you're enjoying the whole thing. It's nice to know I'm getting it right.

Todd started with the realization that her music had curled him into a position of relaxation achieved only when vegged out or unconscious. The toes of his sneakers were off the floor and resting on the edge of the piano bench he perched on, wrists comfortably across each other on the smooth polished surface as he leaned forward. Self-consciously, he straightened, planting his feet on the floor as if it made him appear more solid. "That was beyond beautiful, snookums." He noted how the scars on her arm, though hard to see for all the scales, matched with the direction of the strings. Ah, so the harps were responsible. Always good to be paranoid and doublecheck.
Sara was letting her fingers rest from their effort. Todd's body ached selfishly for her to continue; even if it was to reach up and pluck random strings. People were their truest selves when they were creating. He wanted to see her glow again.
Todd kept his request trapped neatly between the folds of his tongue. She was hurting, falling apart on the inside, stressed from the effects of ... hell, everything. Maybe she should lie down? Was it just his imagination or were the scales on her face turning a little grey?
"You need to lie down or somethin?" he asked, walking over to her. Her scales shifted in the light to a healthier colour and he was left feeling overprotective and fussy. Her nervous smile gave him the suspicion that even her colors were being used as a mask to lessen his concern.
"Don't worry, dear, I'm just unwinding. This is good for me right now." Her hand absently plucked out a tune from Enya. She could play by ear, not just by memorization - as if the spirited display beforehand had not proven that. There had been nothing mechanical or parrotlike about the way her fingers had moved across those strings. It was as if she'd been rewriting the music in her head as she played it.

Xavier was both surprised and impressed. This was Sara when she wasn't trying to be anyone else, or maintain some image impressed on her from numerous rehearsals at varying finishing schools. This was Sara being herself... and she thought of it as becoming the music.
Of all the mutants I've interviewed, he mused, I had to find one with more layers than an onion.
Sara segued from Enya to a piece she'd composed whilst he'd been helping her. It was a jumpy tune, something easily capable of being something from Ben Folds Five(1). From there, she moved into Totacca and Fuge in B Minor, and then, oddly enough, something by the Beatles. No, by a Beatle. Beautiful Night by Sir Paul McCartney.
"Hello, Gladys," Sara whispered, giving the part nearest her shoulder a head-and-shoulder hug. "Very pleased to make your acquaintance." She shifted into an improv usually suited for the higher class of restaurants and a grand piano. Music to be spoken over. "She really needs someone to play her every day. Such a warm-hearted harp needs love."
The idea of dangling that bait over her flickered briefly through his mind. No. Sara had been manipulated by enough people, twisted and warped via rumour into something ugly and vile. She needed a place where she could bloom. "We don't have anyone here who can play, properly," he said. "You're more than welcome to visit. Anytime."
There was a barely-conscious Ha! from Todd. Self-satisfied and confident.
"If you decide to stay with us," he said. "There will have to be tests. Nothing like the test Mr Tolensky went through, of course."
"Damn straight," growled Todd.
Charles cleared his throat. "We must find the limits of your abilities, what unique needs you may have, and any ideosynchratic reactions to medication... as well as ascertain for certain the true bounds of your intelligence."
"I don't test very well," she said, moving into phrases from Every Little Thing "And as for reactions to medication, I have an entire list."
"Don't give her no sedatives, yo," said Todd. A mental image from a story, transformed into nightmares, flashed briefly into Xavier's head.
"Those tests can wait - except for the physical. It's been my understanding that physical transformations such as your own can be... stressful. Therefore, I must insist that you see our resident physician. And I must warn you that he, too, has been changed by his X-gene."
"You mean the big, burly fellow trying to hide past the door? I can see his shadow." Sara smiled.
Very observant for a girl with her eyes apparently closed, thought Xavier.

Todd, of course, turned to look. He'd heard about Mr McCoy's transformation from Tabby, but it was another thing to see the guy knuckle into a room.
"Ah. Hello," he said. "I'm--"
"Dr. McCoy!" Sara stood from her playing and skipped over to greet him. "I'm shocked. The Bayville Herald(2) actually ran a true story." Her hand reached to pet his fur. "Ah. May I?"
"So long as you permit me to inspect those intriguing scales of yours."
"Just don't pull on the skin that's still stuck on. It kinda hurts." She touched him, and her scales turned a uniform blue and sprouted thick fur. "Oh dear..."
"Fascinating," murmured Hank. "Complete textural and chromatic adaptation." He carefully selected one 'hair'.
"I can feel that," marvelled Sara. "It's like having a fingerprint on a freckle."
"No doubt, your senses are enhanced at the tactile level." He let go and watched as she reverted to aqua scales. Next, he fingered the shed skin. "This was already adapted to change," he murmured. "It's thicker by far than most human skin."
"I've had an opportunity for comparison," said Sara. "Todd's undergoing a shedding session, too. The poor dear."
Todd relaxed a little. These two were speaking friend-to-friend or doctor-to-patient. There was no 'thing' between them. He rubbed an itch, absently shedding flake-lets around him.
"Ah, then I might want to see both of you in my infirmary, anon. Comparative notes, you understand. You are the only two mutants so far who shed their skin in one go."
"You have my permission, of course," she said. "Any information could help another mutant, later on. Todd? Care to step under the microscope?"
"It ain't as if he can do much," Todd shrugged. "Whatever, yo. I'm wit' you."
It was fascinating to watch Sara. Her entire posture changed depending on whom she was with at the time. Around Todd - when she wasn't having mini-breakdowns - she was nervous, yet at ease, and happy. Near Xavier, she was reserved and cultured. And with Hank - she was companionable and chatty.
"Reports of your transformation have been ludicrously amplified," Sara was saying, "not to mention warped, bent, spindled and mutilated."
Hank chuckled. "I was temporarily incapacitated by my sudden transformation, yes," he said. "That's what comes from trying to inhibit a natural process, alas. Gradual changes are easier on the physique and the psyche."
"I can imagine. It's bad enough having nightmares about eating birds. I can't imagine going on any rampages."
"Birds?" Hank raised an eyebrow. "You're lucky it was merely birds."
"Oh my..."
He gestured them into the infirmary, which was filling with bizarre gadgets.
Sara was instantly fascinated, probing gently with her fingertips and occasionally matching the surfaces. "Am I right in guessing these are scanning analysis machines, designed to view the inside of a patient in situ? It must work by magnifying ambient radiation..."
What? thought Todd.
"That's exactly correct," said Hank. "Almost to the word what young mister Walkingbird had to say..."
"Who?"
"You might know him better as 'Forge'," supplied Hank.
"Two correct stories," said Sara. "How MIB(3)..."

(1) I love that band. And They Might Be Giants.
(2) The Bayville Herald of my mind has VERY close ties with the National Enquirer.
(3) In case ya didn't get it - MIB featured the idea that the trash-tabloids are reporting the truth.

Hank was bringing out the best in her. Todd couldn't help but feel just a little useless and he chided himself for it. He wanted her to be happy right? To feel comfortable here if here was where she could stay. Lord knew he wasn't going to be welcome to visit as often as possible. Oh he'd visit alright, come hell or soapy water, but at least she'd have company when he couldn't be there.
The doctor was typing up a blank medical document on the computer. Todd glanced over and saw blinking windows on the toolbar. AIM. The guy had time for instant messaging. Who knew? Some small part of him wondered, but theory was disrupted when Hank turned from the document and walked toward him. "Can I see your arm?"
Todd extended it carefully. Hank tucked his hand and wrist beneath his elbow and ran a finger against the flaking skin. He looked like he was just getting over a sunburn, save that the peeling skin was papery and stiff. "Fascinating. It's at least two layers of epidermis that's peeling off, not just the stratum corneum. That's a lot of skin and nutrients stripped off you. Combined with the needs of your metabolism... have you been feeling faint at all?"
"Well..." Todd started awkwardly, feeling understandably iffy about telling the X-geek doctor about possible weaknesses. Sara filled Hank in.
"As expected," She told Hank, apparently more trusting of the doctor-patient bond than Todd was. "Mr. Maximoff was a very taxing irritant this morning, both physically and mentally. Todd used up his energy defending my honor in a certain incident that proved Maximoff's utter lack of decency. And the Brotherhood's been running low on funds for necessary items, so Todd's energy wasn't up to par in the first place."
"Ah," said Hank, already seeing in his mind's eye the battle which had - for whatever reason - unfolded and the obvious outcome. "He collapsed?"
Todd was a peculiar shade of red that had nothing to do with his powers. "Sara," he murmured plaintively. She touched his shoulder gently and her hand mirrored the fabric. He had a smile for her that was meant to convince he wasn't upset, merely ashamed.
"No need for that," chuckled McCoy, taking a sample of Todd's skin and enclosing it in a plastic dish to look at later. "No power is without its physical consequence. I'm sure you still drove home the lesson."
"Sara did, actually. After she scared him off to school in his pajamas, she cleaned the staircase with him."
Now it was Sara's turn to blush while Hank laughed.

"...it was probably hysterical strength," Sara muttered, turning dark with mortification. "Nothing really fabulous."
"Yo, I'd be shocked if Pie's shut up about it, yet." Todd grinned. "Man I wish I had video on that. It was poetry, babe."
"No, dear, this is poetry," Sara took a recitational pose(1). "There was a young man from Calcutta--"
"MISS ADRIEN!" Both teachers barked at once.
"It was clean..." said Sara.(2) "G-rated, even."
Hank was looking decidedly - poofy. "Nevertheless, you've frightened a few years' growth out of me. I thought you'd spent numerous years in finishing schools."
"Quite. I spent a majority of my time correcting the impossible anatomy and mythos." And, she added silently, I knew a few girls who actively dispelled some myths themselves - and paid the price. Quite a few young ladies in those man-free zones had turned up "mysteriously" pregnant. Sara knew for a fact that it wasn't especially mysterious at all.
Hanks' hair stood on end. All of it. "Oh my..."
"...meep..." said Todd.
"I told you I knew all the words, dear. I just don't like using them. OW..."
"Sorry. I was trying to break some off," Hank indicated the patch of skin in his forceps. "It did appear to be hanging by a thread."
"Appearances are deceiving, dear Doctor. I'd recommend industrial-strength clippers."
"Why?"
"Because I tried this morning with ordinary shears. Not a dent."
Hank bought out a small board and an obsedian scalpel(3). "Try not to flinch..."
Both she and Todd held their breaths as the blade swiped over her dead skin.
"Success!" Hank held aloft a small chunk of her skin. "Into the microscope with you."
The thing he put it in bore little resemblance to a microscope. In fact, it was tied into the computer, as a window popped up with some intriguing graphics.
"That looks rather like an instructional picture of the entire epidermal system," noted Sara(4). "Apart from the ragged edge..."
"No wonder you had such trouble," noted Hank. "You've been growing an entirely new epidermal system, more suited to your -ah- gifts."
"Goodness, I hope I don't do this every month," she sighed. "I'll be ruined..."

Todd laid his arm across her shoulders. You'll weather it, babe. You stronger than yo' think. He daren't say as much out loud. Not after the last time he'd hurt her with a compliment.
"I doubt if further episodes will be so - extreme," soothed Hank.
"Ngh..."
Todd winced. He'd felt that one. Her skin - bunched - under his fingers. "Mo' cramps," he explained. "Sweetie's been havin' a bad time of it." He tried to soothe it by rubbing with the grain.
Hank - whose hair was finally settling back down - looked appalled. "I think applied heat should help," he said, "but first, to be certain, a look with the macroscope." He tapped the device that had fascinated Sara earlier. "How did you divine its purpose, anyway?"
"Nothing special," she said, sliding off the bed she'd been sitting on and making her way to the center of the thing. "Anyone who reads Popular Mechanics and Omni can do it."
Todd put his hand down where she'd been, and encountered a patch of stickiness. He looked down and discovered it was crimson. A billion wrong things gallumphed through his brain in a picosecond. "Uh. Doc?"
Hank looked. "Oh dear. Perhaps you'd like to adjourn, Miss Adrien, to re-adjust yourself? Full facilities are availlable."
Sara looked down, twisting her shorts so that she could see the deep red stain. "Well... SPLAT," she sighed. "I should never have asked myself what else could go wrong."
Hank handed her a packet, a generic grey pair of track-pants, and panties to match. "Surprise attack?"
Sara was darkening so much she almost looked like a walking shadow. "...first..."
"Oh fuck..." muttered Todd. Some swell date this was turning out to be. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Make it all better, please... I'm so sorry, babe... "I'm sorry." He hid his face behind his hands. Why did he have to screw things up?
"Hardly your fault, dear," Sara's voice drifted through the door. "Dame Nature (ick) likes to periodically remind us (oh, charming) as to why she's called a 'mother'. ...nngh..." She sighed. "Surprisingly, though... this has has been a better day than average."
When she came out, tears were running slowly down her face as she held a bundle that had formerly been her shorts and underwear. "Uhm?"
"Laundry hamper. We'll take care of things. Free of charge."
She dumped the bundle. "I should feel proud. I'm a complete biological woman as of this moment. It's a rite of passage in some cultures," her voice was quavering and her bottom lip was quaking. "Some even have a party." She hiccoughed a sob. "Oh, I just feel so wretched..."
Hank sighed. "Most of the girls here prefer a pint of Ben and Jerry's 'cookie dough' ice cream, some painkillers, and an intense bonding session with chocolates and some of the sappier DVDs."
"...but I hate those movieeeeeeessssss..." Sara whimpered.
Todd gave off staring at his bloody fingertips, wiped them on the sheet, and literally sprang to Sara's side. "It's coo'... it's coo'... It's gonna be coo', babe. It's okay. Ya don't gotta do nuttin' ya don't want, a'ight? It's coo'... just please don't cry? I fix it, I swear." Whoah. Where'd that come from? "It's gonna be okay..."
"It's hormones, dear," she quavered. "There's no fixing hormones." Sara clung to him. "Nevertheless... you're a supreme help."

(1) Back straight, right hand cupped under the left, so that the fingers form a spiral. THis linkage is pressed up against the diaphragm to help the speaker enunciate.
(2) Apparently, (though I've never heard them) the young man from Calcutta is the source of many a filthy limeric.
(3) Obsedian blades are WAY sharper than ordinary scalpels. I can testify that broken edges are wickedly sharp - having cut myself open on one. I didn't feel it until after I'd bandaged it and mopped up all the blood.
(4) Yes, Sara reads her textbooks. Usually within the first few weeks of the school year. After that, she pretty much has them memorised or - in extreme cases - corrected with pencil.

AN: They stopped me from posting this for THREE FARGIN' DAYS so they could add completely useless option boxes into their stupid little 'horizontal rule' window. And to add insult to injury - the colour option just doesn't work. Yeesh.