Xavier's School for Gifted Children, Infirmary
"Charles, can you tell her to stop moving, please?"
Charles couldn't help chuckling, which annoyed Hank McCoy, otherwise known as Beast, even more. Katarina laughed even harder, her face bright and full of laughter, as she evaded the good doctor's examinations by climbing around the silver room. That was one thing they had discovered about Katarina with the first few minutes: she was certainly a gifted gymnast, and seemed to be able to stick to walls.
"I'm sorry, Hank. but at least she seems to be enjoying herself." Charles smiled, and Hank growled in frustration, his yellow eyes flaring with emotion. Suddenly, Katarina stopped, right in the middle of climbing the examination table, and peered up in what seemed to be curiosity at Hank. As he seethed, she slowly sat down in front of him, and turned to Charles, pointing at him.
"Blau!" She exclaimed, and Charles nodded in agreement, still laughing. About seven years ago, Hank had stopped taking the serum that he had created for him and Charles, and since then, he had accepted his appearance of a fuzzy blue lion that had earned him his nickname the Beast. In reality, Hank was one of the smartest teachers the school had ever hired, and taught a variety of classes, including some well beyond what Charles was capable of understanding. Nevertheless, Hank was quite close with his mentor, having rebuilt the school together, and with many of the current staff.
"Great. Now you're both laughing at me." Hank sighed, making both Katarina and Charles laugh some more. When they had finally calmed down, he pulled out a drawer from the side of the table and began arranging a variety of equipment. The gleam of the metal instruments caught Katarina's eye, but when she saw one of the larger scalpels, something in her face changed. Gone was laughter, and in its place was once again fear and anger. Charles noticed the change far too late, and before he could warn Hank, Katarina was gone, leaving behind a cloud of dark red brimstone-scented smoke and an odd bang. She reappeared at the far end of the room within the next second, baring her bright white fangs in defense as her tail whipped furiously around her, as if it had a mind of its own.
Hank was frozen in place, the scalpel on the floor at his feet, while Charles simply gaped at the sudden display of Katarina's mutant ability. She snarled fiercely, her black pupils dilating to the point that they resembled cat's eyes, and disappeared with another bang, reappearing in another corner of the room as the smoke dissipated. Hank jumped, and stumbled backwards as she lunged at him, only to teleport – yes, that was it – away from them both again.
As troubling as the current situation was, Hank's mind was elsewhere, at least thirty years in the past. Back at the CIA base where the search for mutants other than himself had begun, where he still looked human and absolutely enamored with a woman who hid behind the mask of a blond dynamo. He growled on instinct as unpleasant memories of corpses of CIA agents flashed in front of him. In the courtyard where the bodies laid, a man with skin the color of blood plunged a blade into another man's chest, and smiled at him.
"Azazel." Hank thundered, his restraint forgotten, fury pulsating through his veins. Behind him, Charles yelled something, but he did not hear it as he leapt to his feet and lunged for Katarina. She froze, clearly not expecting the sudden attack, and jumped out of his way, attaching herself high up the wall. He roared, and grabbed for her again.
"HANK!"
For a moment, Hank ignored the call of his name, focused only instead on catching, it would seem, the offspring – demonmurdererdemonkiller - of that vile mutant who relished in murder. But then his name was called again, and this time, he recognized the voice calling him. Turning around, he saw Charles there – friendteachermentorfriend – and in an instant, his rage was gone. The reality of what he'd just done hit him full force, and his hands fell limply to his sides, his eyes intensely focused on the floor.
"Charles, I…I'm…"
"It's alright, Hank. I remember too. The mutant at the CIA the night Shaw found us, no? I understand your anger. But this child is not her father, and neither are we." Charles' gentle presence in his mind seeped away any deadly anger that still lingered in his mind, and Hank sagged, exhausted and ashamed. He hardly ever lost control; he prided himself on his ability to keep the 'Beast' part of him dormant. And a child, a frightened, injured child, had cost him his dignity and pride.
From the other side of the room, Katarina had finally climbed down the wall, her eyes trained carefully on Hank's trembling form. Charles could still sense fear in her mind, but it slowly seeped away as it occurred to her that Hank was not going to attack her. Her eyes conveyed guilt and sympathy, almost as if she could sense the turmoil in his mind. With a patience Charles had never seen before, the young mutant crept towards her elder, keeping her eyes on Hank, though she showed no sign of fleeing again.
"Mutant?" Katarina's voice was quiet, almost quiet enough that the two men didn't catch what she'd said. Hank's head shot up, and he nodded numbly, still in shock. Agilely, Katarina leapt up on to the table once again, and crouched closer to Hank, so that she was barely a foot from him. With one hand, she put one hand on her chest, and put her other hand to the older mutant's shaking chest.
Hank's trembling stilled as he felt Katarina's hand over his heart. Hesitantly, he met her gaze, and she smiled toothily at him, tilting her head to the side as she did. The words that she spoke next, in halting English, made both Charles and Hank freeze.
"Mutant…mutant a…and proud."
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