First things first: trigger warning for body horror.

Second thing, shout out to the always amazing Linda Ku for taking the time out to beta this for me. She's a gift.

The sight that greeted Charles and Erik was horrific.

Alex's breathing came in short, harsh, choked off bursts that raked his entire body; his eyes rolled back into his head as drool puddled under his cheek. Gurgling, he seized and jerked. The world around him was little more than a grey blur, the odd flash of light under his eyelids making him twitch. His clothes, like the girl's, were tinged with black ooze.

Fern was in slightly better shape, in that she was at least awake. Clawing at her scales and writhing on the floor, she couldn't see, but she was conscious. Something was...wrong with her, but the men were too preoccupied by the black that stained her thin clothes to dare approach her.

Between Fern's distressed whimpers and Alex's seizures, the two men almost didn't know where to start. Erik looked to Charles. Helpless, he asked, "How are we supposed to get them upstairs without touching them?"

With a swallow, the shorter man lifted his fingers to his temple and blessed the girl with unconsciousness. As her head lulled back against the tiles, he nodded. It was more to calm himself than to assure Erik of anything. He could still feel Alex's pain, the boy's sharp convulsions making Charles' spine spasm and throat clench as his confusion muddled the Professor's mind. It didn't help that Fern's panic made him hyper-aware of these things, of the pain in his hands and the strange fever like delirium that fuzzed the edges of his vision, but the symptoms depleted somewhat as the duo slumped motionless against the tiles.

Eyes a bit misty, but voice firm, he turned to the man beside him. "Get the first aid kit." Charles nodded behind him as he began to undo his jacket. "It's in the supply closet. It should have a fire blanket inside."

The man did. With a thick swallow, Charles slowly, meticulously, slipped one of his coat's sleeves over Fern's bare, and still oozing, right arm. As he moved to do the same with her left, he noticed her chest. The thin material of her a-shirt clung to her torso; the cotton not translucent like it was on her stomach and shoulders. With a faint hum, he pushed the curiosity aside before easing the other arm through the sleeve. Still, his wariness lingered as Erik returned.

Taking the fire blanket from him, Charles nodded to the boy. Alex had stilled, except for the odd distressed shudder of breath. "Can you manage him?"

With a nod, the taller man slipped his arm under the boy's shoulders and hefted him up. Alex's head snapped back. Erik winced and quickly righted his hold. The Summers' lad let out a strangled breath, unable to put up any kind of fight as the man carried him out of the swimming area.

Alone, Charles returned his gaze to the girl on the floor. She twitched, but was otherwise still. After a moment's consideration, he began to wrap her in the fire blanket. With her torso covered and her arms tucked inside, he eased Fern into a bridal carry. Steps slow and deliberate, he made his way out the double doors and up the stairs.

It was hardly the easiest task. Fern was far heavier than she looked. Her willowy frame had been gifted with reedy muscles after years of swimming in Boone Lake.

Charles struggled to make it up to the lab. When Erik spotted him in the hall, his arms outstretched to help him, the shorter man huffed. Red cheeked, and resentful of the German's cool composure, Charles snapped, "I can manage."

It was equal parts pride and loyalty that made him refuse. He was aware of the grey skinned girl's dislike of the man, and Charles knew she wouldn't want him touching her- especially when she couldn't defend herself. He chanced a glance down at Fern. Her scales were an ashy shade of white, the ooze a stark streak of black down her throat and neck.

"Are you sure?"

The hint of doubt in his friend's voice would have been insulting, had he not seemed so sincere. His blue eyes flickered over to Hank, who was tending to Alex. The boy was laid out on a desk. His body jerked with every spastic, haunting breath he could manage to take- but they were disturbingly rare. Alex's face was flushed with fever, so clammy with sweat that his skin shined in the bright sunlight of the makeshift lab. He shivered and his teeth chattered.

When Hank looked over to him, Charles squared his shoulders. In his arms, Fern's legs twitched, but she remained otherwise still. With a swallow, the Professor raised his chin and nodded to the man behind him. "I'm fine. Guard the door. Don't let anyone enter."

Erik frowned and ignored his wishes in favor of following him over to the desk across from Alex's. As he laid the girl down and began to untangle the foil sheet from her limp body, the taller man shook his head. "The others-"

"Explain the situation while I deal with this." The Professor pursed his lips as the man lingered. "Now, Erik."

With a curt nod, Erik obeyed. Stalking over to the door, he shot the unconscious boy one last glance before shutting the door.

Brushing his hair back from his face, Charles watched Hank dip a syringe into a small glass vial. "What's that?"

"Fern gave me a sample of her poison." The bespectacled young man eased the trigger back before pushing it forward, expelling any air inside before he grasped Alex by the side of his head. "I was able to make an antidote. Can you hold him still?"

Fingers on his temple, the psychic steadied the boy with his mind. "Make it quick. He can't breath properly."

"I know." Hank sunk the needle into the thin skin of Alex's jugular.

Charles winced, feeling it ease through his own neck, feeling the (startlingly cold) liquid slide through his veins. "And you think this will help?"

"It should." He eased the needle out and set it down. Drawing his hand back, Hank reached for a bandage and quickly secured it to Alex's neck before moving him into the recovery position.

The reaction wasn't instantaneous. Alex continued to jerk and gasp, his cheeks flushed pink and his hands clenched up by his chest. Rigid and spastic all at once, his fingers were bent and his arms tight as his seizures kept on. After a minute, they had slowed, but not disappeared.

Hank frowned, grabbed the vial again and readied another syringe as Alex's breathing remained labored. "That's strange...I know I gave him the proper dosage for someone his size."

"Maybe we should give him a moment."

"No, I designed it to be fast acting…" Hank reached toward the small table he had set up by the makeshift operating table. Picking up a petri tray and a wad of gauze, he offered them to the Professor. "Could you get me a sample?"

"A sample of what?" Charles asked warily, making no move to take them.

The boy frowned at his hesitance. When the Professor finally reached for them, Hank hummed and pulled the bandage back from Alex's neck. "Her poison, obviously."

"Is that really necessary?"

Hank's brows rose. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he offered him a shrug. "It is if it gets more potent with every use."

Charles raised his hand once more as Hank steadied the blond man's head. As the needle once more pressed into Alex's skin, the psychic winced. "Will he be alright?"

"Should be. There's nothing to suggest it's lethal. I mean, maybe if it was ingested...but beyond some discomfort and maybe some tenderness, he should make a full recovery." Hank paused for a beat. "I mean, I assume. I hope. I can't really say."

They were silent a moment.

Slowly but surely, Alex's gasps faded into ragged, but steady breathes. His arms eased back to his sides, his fingers limp and steady once more as Hank slipped a throw pillow from the couch under his head. The men shared a relieved chuckle as the blond's brow furrowed at being jostled. Color was still high on his cheeks, but the sweat had ebbed back as he began to breath easy. Hank rubbed the back of his neck, before skirting his gaze over to the girl. He blanched and Charles was quick to follow his gaze.

Fern was still laying on her back. Her breathing even and steady but something was...wrong with her skin. Bits of it seemed to be pulling away from her body. Thin, papery patches over her cheeks and brow and throat were slowly dominating every visible inch of her scales.

Wordlessly, Charles offered the petri dish back to Hank. The younger man took it back and asked, "Is there anything we can put her in? You know, something that's not…?"

"A biohazard?" Charles offered, already striding toward the door. "I'll grab a robe from her room."

Hank glanced after him, but merely set the petri dish down. After sliding on a pair of thick rubber gloves, Hank set about gently removing the man's coat from the girl's prone form. The sleeves caught on her glands, the gentle motion jerking her supine form. He slipped a hand under her bicep and tugged the left down, then the right. When his gloves came back smeared, he was quick to change them.

Fern's white a-shirt clung to her like a second skin, but there were no issues with modesty. The beige tensor bandage around her chest was clearly visible through the translucent material. What wasn't clear was slicked with black; thick inverted crescents over her hips, her collar and the thin sleeves over her narrow shoulders, there wasn't as much on the undershirt as there was on Charles' jacket, but it was still enough to make the young scientist's stomach knot. Features puckered, Hank reached for a pair of scissors.

When Charles returned with a pale blue robe slung over his arm, Hank had cut away the bandage. He kept it draped over her chest out of respect, but still asked the Professor what he thought it was for. "It probably kept the water from her lungs, but I mean, it couldn't have been comfortable. See these marks?"

Charles frowned as Hank eased the material under her breasts. The skin was patchy and pale, but there was a noticeable difference between the bit of her usual grey on her stomach and the thin strip under her breasts. "Yes."

"I think they're bruises. Or at least, as close as she can get to being bruised." He didn't touch her, but gestured to the dull ring of scales. "See how they're a different shade of grey?"

"I'm more concerned with the shade of white," Charles told him as he stepped between the unconscious girl and the young man. "Have you checked her vitals?"

"Of course. Her breathing is good, her blood pressure's a little high, but nothing to worry about...but there's something about her eyes." Hank bit his lip and looked away as Charles dressed the girl methodically. The robe only covered her to mid thigh, but it seemed considerably more respectful than the white underwear she had been left in.

After cinching the belt, Xavier looked pointedly at him. "You said something about her eyes?"

"Yes, here." Hank motioned him around to the front of her body. "They seemed cloudy, but that's hardly unsurprising. It's this."

A gloved touch eased her eyelid back. Fern's eyes had turned from a startling blue to a cloudy white. As the air hit it, something flickered across it.

Disturbed, Charles stepped back.

"There's seems to be some sort of membrane...maybe if I just..." Hank slowly eased his finger over her eye. The thin layer of film dragged with it; the translucent skin clinging to the tip of his glove.

Stomach in his throat, Charles gaped with stunned horror. Breathless, he managed, "D-did you just...peel off a layer of her eyeball?"

"Yes," Hank replied, voice tight with anxiety and perhaps nausea.

"What's happening to her?"

"She must be moulting." The taller man stepped back from the table. He collected the petri dish Charles had so tactfully dodged and scraped the membrane off his glove into the little glass container. At the Professor's curious glance, he peeled off his gloves. "When reptiles injure themselves they shed their outer scales and regrow fresh ones."

"She's regrowing her skin?"

"Theoretically yes."

"My god."

With a hint of unease, Hank glanced down at the girl. "Can she hear us?"

"No, no, I've completely put her under."

"You should let me sedate her so you can rest."

"Yes, I think that might be a good idea. Just not too much, only enough to let her sleep."

"Of course!"

"Good man," Charles clapped him on the shoulder. With a deep breath and not another word, he left the small lab with only a nod of goodbye to Erik.

A few minutes later, the German man found himself faced with three concerned people he had really no interest in placating.

"What happened?" Moira demanded.

Erik barely blinked at the woman's sharp tone. His gaze flickered down to where her hands were on her hips before he lifted a brow. "It seems Miss Ailey isn't as stable as she led us to believe."

Her pretty features tight, Raven's brow creased and her eyes narrowed as she shook her head. "Charles wouldn't let her come to the mansion if she wasn't safe to be around."

Behind her, Sean nodded. The three of them crowded around him, none of them terribly impressed with being shut out of the cadre.

Erik raised his hand to the doorway. Their entrance blocked, he told the trio, "Charles said no visitors. I'm simply enforcing his wishes."

The women readily accepted Charles' judgement (albeit with some annoyance), but Sean wasn't so quick to trust Erik's word. Still, he remained quiet until they were alone. Voice quiet and somber, the redhead leaned in slightly so the man would hear him, "She wouldn't want you here."

An amused, bellicose smirk crossed Erik's lips. Mocking, he too dropped his voice, "I suppose you're the expert in what women want?"

"I know what you did." It was a bluff, but when Erik straightened and his eyes darkened, Sean pressed on. Blue eyes sharp and teeth bared, he sneered, "You leave now, or I go in there and tell Charles why Fern's so afraid of looking like a girl."

For a long moment, Erik only glared at him. After considering his options, he raked his gaze over the slender boy before giving a brisk nod and stalking off down the hall.

Feet quiet, Sean slipped inside. Like before, Hank didn't notice him at first; too busy scribbling down notes with his face glued to his microscope to realize he wasn't alone. With a swallow, the younger man crept deeper into the lab. His gaze drifted from Alex, still shivering but now pale and otherwise peaceful, to Fern. His steps quickened along with his heart as he stood beside her.

She was damn near unrecognizable; no longer a scaly grey but paper white. Her body seemed to be rejecting her skin, pushing it away from her and turning her an unhealthy ash as it flaked. He was almost afraid to touch her; almost.

A lump formed in Sean's throat. Tentative fingers brushed her temple, down her brow before he looked back to Alex. The boy shuddered, but didn't wake. Tone raspy, Sean asked what happened to them.

Behind his desk, Hank jerked away from his microscope. Wide eyed and stunned, he managed, "I- Erik was supposed to be watching the door!"

"Are they okay?"

At his friend's misty stare and strained tone, Hank sighed. Pushing his glasses up, he stood. "Alex should be fine thanks to the samples Fern gave me after Shaw's attack." His lips pursed at the sight of Sean stroking the unconscious woman's cheek. "You shouldn't touch her. It's-"

"Not safe?!" Sean snapped at him. Color rising in his cheeks, he shook his head. "Don't tell me she's not safe, Hank!"

"I wasn't going to." Hank shook his head. Right eyebrow raised, he leaned back. "I just don't know how her skin will react to the added stimulation. It could be painful for her."

The redhead blinked and recoiled slightly. Drawing his hand back from Fern's face, he dropped his gaze and his voice, "I'm sorry."

Noticing the burns on his friend's fingers, Hank hummed. The scientist grabbed him by the elbow. Jerking his arm forward, Hank frowned at the sight of Sean's hand. The skin was still splotchy and red. "What happened to you?"

"Oh, I guess I had an allergic reaction to the chlorine or something."

"You too?" Hank considered a moment before he stepped back from him. "How much did you put in the pool yesterday?"

"Uh, the whole bag?"

The brunet's brows rose behind his glasses. Incredulous, he stared at him. "The...the entire bag? For one pool?"

"Uh, yeah?" Sean hesitated. "Charles said it was really important it was clean."

"The entire bag," Hank repeated. Shaking his head, he reached for his notes. "That didn't seem a little excessive to you?"

"A bit but-" Blinking, the redhead blanched. "What, you're saying this is my fault?!"

The bespectacled man sighed and pushed his glasses up. "No, of course not, you couldn't have known-"

"But if I had been more careful she-" Sean cringed as realization dawned on him. This was his fault. If he had just taken a few minutes to read the instructions on the damn bag, his friends would've been fine. Bile rising in his throat, he looked away from Hank, turning to face Alex's body. He watched his friend's chest rise and fall a moment before he finished, "They would've been okay, right?"

Hank shrugged. "There's no way of knowing that."

Guilt knotted his stomach as he braced his hands on the desk Alex laid on. The unconscious man was pale and sweaty. Keeping his tone low and blank, the redhead asked what kind of long term effects they might have.

"For Alex, most likely nothing serious." Slowly, almost cautiously, Hank approached the redhead. He had never seen Sean quite so...morose. He had seen him serious and angry, but this was new. New and frightening and Hank didn't like it one bit. Still, he kept his voice level and strong as he stopped beside him, "He may experience some sensitivity in his hands. Perhaps a tremor in the long term, but he'll most likely make a full recovery."

"And Fe?"

When Sean's eyes rose to his, misty and red, Hank couldn't hold his gaze. Instead he looked to the grey mutant on the table a few feet away. "At this time, the most we know is that her eyes have been severely damaged-"

The younger man sucked in a sharp breath.

"But given her abilities," The scientist rushed, "I think she will, too. Make a full recovery, I mean."

"How long until they wake up?"

"We're keeping them both heavily sedated until the worst of the pain passes." Rubbing the back of his neck, Hank sighed. "I think the Professor would rather you let them rest."

Sean rolled his eyes and pushed away from the desk. Not roughly, not enough to jar his injured friend, but enough to get him on his feet. "How am I supposed to train with them here?"

"He didn't bar visitors to punish you, or them. The fact of the matter is, this is a medical emergency. We have no idea how their bodies could react to infection or the added stress of having people around."

Clenching his hands a moment, he asked, "You'll tell me if there's any change, right?"

The dark haired man nodded. "As soon as they're strong enough for visitors you'll be the first to know."

"Thanks, man."

Without another word, Sean left.

Hours passed before either of the two patients stirred. The sun had set, leaving only the sharp white lights from the overhead lamps. The harsh glow earned a quiet groan from the girl. Her eyes hypersensitive to the light, she turned her face away from them. Pushing her cheek deeper into the pillow, she swallowed. Her skin felt strange; like insects were crawling all over her, pulling and biting at her scales. It didn't hurt, not quite, but she didn't like it. It was almost like her skin was too tight. Her nose wrinkled at the sound of footsteps and she braced herself.

"How're you feeling?" The voice was familiar, but it took his next question for her to place it. "Are you in any pain?"

Hank. She relaxed slightly. "No." Fern took a deep inhale through her nose before she sighed. Annoyance crept into her colorless features. "Itchy."

Her friend, if he could be called that (he liked to think he could be) chuckled and pulled his thick rubber gloves up a bit higher. "Hopefully that will pass."

The brunette clenched her toes. She didn't like being prone in his presence, much less when she couldn't see what he was doing. Her eyelids felt heavy and sore and so did her tongue. "What's happenin' to me?"

"You seem to be...shedding, for lack of a better term." Hank slipped over to her other side. Standing somewhere near her head, if she had to guess. The young woman swallowed again. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. Hank didn't notice, too focused on the fact that she was awake when the dose of sedatives he had given her should have kept her out through the night. "Has this happened to you before?

"Once." The girl twisted, rolling onto her side. A vague tearing sound could be heard as her skin split, but she merely let out a relieved hum. "When I was thirteen and hit a growth spurt."

"Thirteen?" Hank repeated. He tilted his head and carefully adjusted the robe when it had fallen. Knowing she would be uncomfortable with the indecent amount of leg, he took great care to keep his touch as distant from her actual body as possible, simply letting the material drape over her knee. "That's late for a girl."

Fern didn't notice his discomfort. "Casten said it was 'cause I was malnourished when I was little." She dug her cheek against the smooth wood of the desk, hoping to ease the itch under it. "Said it should'a stunted my growth more but..."

The man nodded and took up where she left off, "You're healing factor took care of it."

"And my ma." A crooked grin crossed her lips, but she didn't open her eyes. "Can I see her?"

Uncertain, Hank blinked. "Fern, Josie isn't here?"

"What?!" The dull alarm was heartbreaking, almost more so than the pained whimper she gave when she foolishly tried to open her eyes. Covering her face with her arm, the girl shook her head. "Where is she?! What happened to her?!"

More importantly, what had she done to her, Fern wondered.

"She's fine," Hank assured her, gently putting a hand on her shoulder. Fern tried to roll away from it, but didn't have the strength. Sensing this, he kept his tone soft, "She's back in Tennessee. You're in Salem, remember?"

"Salem," the girl repeated, as if tasting the word with a heavy tongue. The ridged scales of her brows rose slightly. "Sean?"

A small smirk pulled at the young man's mouth. "He's fine, too."

"I can't see nothin'." She pouted. Pushing her face against the edge of the desk, she sighed as her skin split open, easing the strange pressure under her scales.

"That should pass."

"Did anyone get hurt cause'a me?"

Hank pursed his lips and decided to lie. His gaze slipped over to Alex, who was laying peacefully on the other desk. "No, Fern. Everyone's fine."

The relief made her bones lighter. "Good."

"Would you like to get some more sleep? I have a sedative ready if-"

"No!" A thin arm jerked up to cover her neck. Another rip was heard as she frantically shook her head. "No thanks."

With a nod, the man stepped back. "Alright...would you mind if I assessed your eyes? I'd like to see if there's been any damage."

The guilt in his tone was palpable, but she didn't notice. "Too bright."

"It'll only take a second, I'll dim the lights."

Fern considered a moment. She really didn't want to be experimented on, especially not when she was too weak to defend herself, but she trusted Hank. If he was going to do something to her, he would've done it while she was under. Considering the only thing she could feel was the strange strain of her scales, she assumed he hadn't. "Fine. Help me up."

"Let me get the lights first."

A few seconds past before the unbearable brightness above her lessened. She chanced peeking an eye open and winced. Her vision was blurry. She tried to swipe the membrane over her eye and failed. Annoyed, she asked, "What happened?"

"You had an extreme reaction to the amount of chlorine in the swimming pool."

Rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand, Fern winced. With each passing second, she could feel herself becoming more and more alert, but she pressed back the need to complain.

"Okay, ready?"

"I guess." Instinctively, the slim brunette's jaw clenched as Hank's hands gripped her elbow. "You didn't do anything to me while I was asleep, didya?"

"No!"

"I mean science stuff. Not pervert stuff."

"No." And he truly hadn't. He had been incredibly tempted to take a blood sample, but Hank had refrained. She had been through enough without having her trust abused as well. "I swear I didn't."

"Okay."

"I mean, I tried to check your eyes, but...I think I might've broke one of them."

"Broke them?" She repeated skeptically.

"Just one! The left one."

"That's reassuring." With a long, slow exhale, Fern gestured to her face. "Well, go on then. Let's get this over with."

Hank smiled and gently took her by the chin. One hand held her still while his free thumb framed her sharp cheekbone. "Here, just let me-" His lips thinned as the patch of paper thin scales tore under his touch, leaving him holding a long strip of her skin. It was an ashy white against his glove. Underneath lay a sharp line of fresh black scales which shimmered as the light touched them.

All Hank saw was the skin in his hand. Eyes wide, he gaped at it.

The girl squinted at him. Even through the thick blur, she could see the horror on his face. Annoyed, she asked, "You just ripped part of my face off, didn't you?"

"I didn't mean it!" Hank squeaked. "I'm sorry! Did it hurt? I mean, you didn't even-"

"It doesn't hurt." Fern twisted, stretching her back and sides and earning audible tears from them as well. The saetae on her fingertips caused a few more tiny rips from her skin as she reached across her chest to rub her shoulder blade. "It feels a bit better. Less tight."

Wide eyes watched her wrinkle her nose. Shaking off his surprise (and disgust), Hank blinked. "Well, shall we?"

"Do I have to?" At his chuckle, Fern dropped her hand and opened her eyes. Both of them this time. Wider. One of them was still blurry, but the other was fairly clear. Not perfect, but the more it adjusted to the light, her vision perfected itself.

The first thing she saw was Alex. Realization dawned on the young brunette and her spine straightened. Her hand came up to close the front of her navy robe. It was then she realized her scales were caked with her dried poison. That Hank was wearing red rubber gloves up to his elbows. Stomach in knots, Fern edged off the desk. As her toes hit the carpet, she cringed. She hated how carpet felt in her saetae.

Still, the young woman powered through it and ignored Hank's steadying hand on her shoulder as she nodded to the prone blond boy.

"How long's he been out?"

"He's going to be fine."

Frowning, she squinted up at him. He was blurry around the edges and she closed her left eye. Her right caught the worry in his face just fine. "That's not what I asked."

"You should be resting."

The girl bristled. "I'm fine."

"Really?" Hank asked, eyebrows skeptically high. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"How many am I holding up?" She countered, raising her middle one.

The young man frowned. "That's uncalled for."

"Is he gonna be okay?"

"He'll be fine," the scientist assured her. He pushed up his glasses with the hand not helping to steady her. "I mean, there might be some lasting fatigue and maybe some tenderness, but he should be fine."

Fern nodded. "I should shower."

"That's probably a good idea. Here, let me-"

"I can do it myself." She squirmed in his hold.

"I know, just let me help you get up to your room."

"Fine."