Once again, I beg your pardon in being so late. I am going to admit that updates will be a bit sporadic from here on out. College starts very soon and this is not my top priority. Just be patient with me. :)

Hank McCoy. A mutant. How absolutely fascinating! Charles's attention was entirely focused on the young man fiddling with his model in the center of the spacious hanger from the moment the door opened. Why weren't they told that there was another mutant here already? He might have checked, but was a little preoccupied with the nature of this man's mutation. It wasn't his incredible brain (which was astounding in itself) but something a bit more physical. He would have to get a look at those feet before the day was over.

A smile began to light up his face as the group neared the mutant, stopping just short of his marvelous model jet. Charles gripped the railing in front of him, now grinning from ear to ear. It was absolutely incredible! The young man's intelligence itself was far beyond anything he'd ever encountered before, including his own. Charles immersed himself in Hank's mind, lapping up bits of information and memories like a child in a candy shop. Finally, a mind he could relate to.

The spindly little man in the lab coat and khaki pants turned to them then, a goofy, nervous smile on his bespectacled face.

"It's, uh, supersonic," he said, noticing the rapt expressions on the groups' faces as they gawked at the plane suspended from the ceiling. Charles cast it a courteous glance as well, not wanting to appear as if he were staring at the unassuming mutant before him. Hank had designed this plane, this marvel of its generation. Charles was much more interested in the mind behind the machine, but Ellie was starting to send him funny looks. He put a hand on her arm in assurance that he had not lost his mind. "The most advanced plane ever built," That is most certainly was. "You should see it in real life. It's incredible."

Yes, he would make a fine addition to the mutant division.

"Hank," the man in black cut in, his sharp, high voice cutting through Charles's mind like a blade. God, he'd be glad when he could get away from this man for a while. "These are the special new recruits I was telling you about," Charles didn't miss the fact that the man gestured only to him as he spoke. "Hank McCoy, one of our most talented young researchers."

Charles leapt at his chance to speak to the one called Hank, stepping briskly forward and extending a hand almost before the man in black had finished speaking. "How wonderful, another mutant already here! Why didn't you say?" he asked, turning back with Hank's hand still firmly gripped in his own. He nearly missed the tiny shock from Hank's mind and the bemused expression on the suited man's face that turned his blood to ice. Oh dear.

A quick scan of the man's mind confirmed his fear and shame washed over him like the tide. Never in his life had he done something so stupid, so irresponsible! And here he was, letting his excitement get the better of him and failing to do the one thing that Charles Xavier always did without exception—think! Because of him, a man's career may be in jeopardy. You arse, Charles!

"Because you don't know," he said, ignoring the man's question of "Say what?" and turning back to a crushed-looking Hank. "I am so, so terribly sorry." Charles nearly had to force the words out through his immense horror at having outed someone. Hank wouldn't meet his eyes.

The large man stepped forward and Charles moved away and slipped out of the young man's mind, hating himself for the trouble caused for the brilliant young mind. He was certain that he would spend the rest of his life making up for this incredible idiocy on his part. "Hank?" the man asked in a voice filled with awe. Hank looked down, shaking his head in an unconscious gesture.

"You didn't ask, so I didn't tell," he said, only glancing up once as he made a noncommittal gesture that convinced no one.

Charles felt that the situation couldn't have gotten much more awkward and was trying to work out some way of salvaging it when he was saved by his gift-from-God sister.

"So your mutation is what, you're super smart?" Raven asked, walking forward and gazing at Hank with the same fascination Charles had felt only moments ago, although with a little something thrown in there that her brother hadn't felt.

"I'll say," he said, hoping a compliment would ease some of the tension in the air. "Hank here graduated Harvard at the age of fifteen." Hank didn't appear to have heard him. He had eyes only for Raven as he replied, "I-I wish that's all it was."

"You're among friends now, Hank," Charles said, doing his best to be encouraging even when Hank looked at him as if he'd like nothing more than to kick him with those magnificent feet of his. "You can show off." He glanced down at the wonderous features he knew were painfully hidden by the young scientist's shoes. For a moment he thought that Hank might actually kick him, but he knew the other man too well already. Hank was a gentle soul, but not above some inner grumbling and few choice words as he kicked off his shoes and removed his socks for his delighted audience.

Charles couldn't contain a chuckle as the many-knuckled toes uncurled like leaves on a fern. They even had opposable thumbs, amazing!

A voice beside him breathed in awe, "Extraordinary!" he looked over at Ellie and shared a grin, happy that her anger had abated for the moment. She would want to get a closer look at those feet as well. Perhaps Hank would agree to letting the both of them study together? That way it would be over more quickly, for him of course.

"Splendid," he agreed, watching the toes flex and the muscles contract.

Hank looked up then, grinning at Raven and looking a bit more pleased with his sudden popularity as he moved to stand under the wing of the model plane. "Sorry," he said when the others moved out of the way. All but Erik who was still leaning back against the rail, some ten feet away.

Then, without warning Hank leapt up into the air, flipping over as his did so and latched on to the plane's wing with his marvelous feet. "Ta-da," he said as his arms splayed out in the air and his hair hung in all different directions and the group laughed in amazement all around him. Charles felt what he felt and knew that for the first time in his life, Hank was pleased with his mutation. His pleasure grew when Raven moved to stand very close to him and said, "You're amazing." Hank grinned from ear to ear then, looking awfully silly all upside down like he was but happy for the first time in a long time.

"Really?" he asked.

Raven smiled and nodded back.

OxOxO

Charles felt that he could have spent the rest of the day in that hanger deep in conversation with Hank the genius, but in time the group was shooed away and escorted deeper into the facility to be shown their rooms. The trek was a long one, and Charles felt Ellie's lingering excitement fade away as they moved deeper into the dark, labyrinthine research building. Soon she was back to her irritation of a short while ago with seemingly no rhyme or reason. He pondered this for a moment. Ellie often became irritable but never without a good reason. The steady fumes of barely suppressed anger were just beginning to set a firm headache behind his eyes when it hit him. He smiled as he identified the culprit and moved to take her arm gently.

She looked at him with brows knitted in aggravated confusion, but he shook it off and said quietly, "How long has it been since you've had a good run?"

She stared at him for a moment before answering. "Not since before we left Oxford. Why?"

"I think that might be the reason you're feeling so irritable right now. Maybe you should let the animal off her chain for a while?" he said, leaning in close to whisper.

"Irritable?" she snapped, drawing away from him as if she'd been slapped. "What do you mean irritable? I'm fine. Why do you even care anyway?" Fire danced in her eyes as she turned the full-blown power of the Ellie glare on him, but he had long since become immune to its searing heat.

Instead of being cowed, he snapped right back at her, taking her by surprise. "Because if you'll stop being quite so snappish, I'll take your bag for you and let you go out for a while alone. You do need to learn to control your temper. I've done nothing wrong; to the contrary, all I've done is try to help you. Now, do you want to run or not?" The flames dimmed as quickly as they had risen and she lowered her head, hiding her face from him.

"I'm sorry, Charles. You're right. I shouldn't be ugly to you of all people." Her voice was so low that he had to lean forward to catch it, completely oblivious to the scene they were causing. The others had all stopped to stare, but he brushed their presences away like buzzing flies. Her small bag dropped into his hand and without a word, she turned and walked dejectedly back the way they'd come.

Charles narrowed his eyes at her retreating form. On second thought, he wasn't quite so sure if it was a good idea to let her go out on her own in this state of mind. The girl was downright reckless when she was upset. Another thought plagued his mind as she disappeared around the corner. What on Earth could she have meant by 'of all people'? Why was being rude to him any different from being rude to Raven or Erik? Hm, perhaps he and his sister needed to have a little chat once things had settled down a bit. Ellie was keeping something from him, and he had a sneaking suspicion that his sister knew.

Without looking back, he called to the one person with the power to safeguard her from her own dark emotions.

"Erik," he said.

"What?" came the icy reply.

"I realize that you have no desire to do so and after recent events I don't blame you, but you're the only one here capable of doing what I'm going to ask of you."

"Get to the point, Charles," Erik said as he came to stand next to him, looking down at him with apprehension.

"I want you to tail her, talk to her, anything to keep her preoccupied. I know it's a huge favor to ask, but I must. I don't trust her when she gets like this, and I feel you're the only one with the power to stop her doing anything rash." He looked up at the larger man and nearly failed to notice the faint echo of the word, 'anything?' in his thoughts. Much to Charles's surprise, Erik merely nodded and set off back down the hallway at a brisk pace.

Somehow not quite satisfied, he shouldered Ellie's bag anyway and rejoined the group, winding his arm through Raven's as they continued on to their chambers, trying to quiet the growing sense of unease settling firmly in his thoughts.

OxOxO

As soon as she was out of mind reach Ellie shifted, reveling in the liquid power and grace that was her panther's form. She let out a soft sigh of relief when the animal obeyed on the first go. That was an unusual occurrence these days. Men leapt out of her way as she streaked off down the hallway, following their scents from moments ago (well, once scent in particular), a fluid shadow that was there and gone too fast for them to realize just what it was they'd seen. She even snarled at a few, rejoicing in her strength and ability to instill fear in the hearts of men. In no time at all she burst out into the open, her worn paw pads barely feeling the change from smooth and polished floors to rough concrete to well-manicured lawn as she shot across the grounds like a rocket toward the woods.

Her muscles bunched and released in perfect harmony at her tiniest whim, her body obeying her every command like a well-oiled machine that oozed power. Just for the hell of it, she ran with her claws unsheathed, slicing all in her path like a hot knife through butter. The universe opened up to her, presenting its sights, scents, tastes, sensations and sounds on a silver platter. Everything was multiplied here, including the electric tingling sensation that licked across her skin and charged her entire body with joyous energy. She saw the woodland creatures scatter in terror before her. She heard the pattering of their tiny feet and the beats of their frantic hearts. She smelled the delicious, musky scent of the layer of decaying foliage that carpeted the forest floor as she stirred it with her pawsteps. She felt the wind ripple through her midnight colored pelt, reacting with the live electricity there and igniting a pleasure so intense that she lifted her face to the heavens and yowled her sheer joy for all the world to hear.

It didn't even occur to her that she no longer felt pain in her hip. She paid no heed to the tiny crick in her joint that barely slowed her down. Her adrenaline was flowing too quickly for such mundane things as pain to affect her now. She would pay for it in the morning, but right now was all that mattered.

Ellie lost herself in her joy, in her panther self. She simply stood aside and gave over control to the animal, immersed herself so deeply in her ecstasy that it was all she knew. For a moment, just a moment, she relaxed her rigid self-control, melted into the panther's instincts and simply enjoyed being alive.

She was nothing but pounding feet, exhilarating power and ferocious, joyful, animalistic heat as she tore across the forest floor. She was completely enfolded by a happiness that was millennia old. It was a happiness known to every animal that had ever lived in the many millions of years of Earth's existence. It was the joy of running.

Of being free.

Of being alive.

And so she ran.

Transcending time…

…and space.

Until there was nothing left but paws and fur and heart and soul and

RUNNING!

Finally, when her body felt that it would collapse if she took another step, Ellie emerged to take back control from the panther. Sated and happier than she had been in quite some time, she went willingly and sank into a deep slumber in the back of Ellie's mind. Ellie soon followed suit, curling up on a particularly soft patch of moss, wrapping her tail around her body and over her nose and falling into the deep, dreamless sleep that only exhaustion can bring.

OxOxO

She smelled him before she heard him and she heard him before she saw him, emerging through the trees like some gunmetal god come to call. It was his imposing presence that brought her back to the land of the living as he moved to sit next to her with no trace of his usual icy scowl. Surprised, Ellie sat up on her haunches, wrapping her tail over her paws and looking at him with unnaturally green eyes. He looked back for a moment before speaking in that deep, masculine voice that set her fur to tingling.

"Charles sent me to watch you," he said, something strange flickering behind his eyes. Something she couldn't quite place.

Sensing no danger she relaxed, lying on her belly and extending her paws so that they brushed Erik's leg.

Did he now? she thought. If he was at all surprised by her mental communication he didn't show it. Then again, Erik rarely showed anything except cold indifference. Or perhaps boredom.

He nodded, a single finger dropping down to tough the silky fur of her foreleg. The minute contact sent a tremor up her spine that had nothing to do with cold.

She cocked her head to the side. So why did you do it? Her mind voice was nearly a whisper. I thought you would hate me.

Erik chuckled. Erik! Chuckled! Without any trace of malice or contempt. How queer. "Mutations are difficult to control," he said, another finger dropping down with the first. "I don't blame you for what happened. Respect? Of course. Resent? Never." His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. Not that she even knew him very well, but what she did know of him pointed in the complete opposite direction than the one he was going in. The odd thing was, she didn't care. He spoke with a softness that had never been directed at her before, and it felt amazing.

Without shifting positions, she morphed, melting back into human form lying on her belly with her fingertips grazing his leg. His gaze smoldered down at her with a cold sort of intensity and effortless sexiness that spoke directly to her inner beast. He was in his element out here. Even in the middle of the forest, her element, he was in control without even having to try.

His hands dropped down to do the job his fingers had been doing until then. His massive hands engulfed her little feminine wrists with a silent strength and warmth that went straight through to her bones. A flash of something dark on the inside of his arm caught her eye, momentarily distracting her from his touch.

"Erik," she said slowly, gazing up at him through her lashes. "May I see your arm?"

His face hardened so fast that she barely noticed the shift. His grip on her wrist tightened to the point of pain, but she did not flinch or make a sound. "Why would you want to see that?" he asked in a cold, clipped tone.

"Because I have a natural curiosity," she said softly. "And I understand deformities of the skin better than most. I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

He studied her for a moment, gunmetal grey eyes boring into her as if searching for deceptions. He must have found none, for without taking his eyes from her, he let go of her wrist and slowly revolved his arm to make visible the small, unassuming black tattoo born from the blood of millions of people.

Knowledge hit her like a brick and she sat slowly, unable to pull her eyes away from the atrocity forever imprinted on the man's skin. Even when he hid his arm, her eyes followed it and trained on the place she'd last seen the mark.

She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream, she wanted to tear the bastards responsible limb from limb. She wanted to do so many things, but couldn't bring herself to move or make a sound. That tattoo was a memento of the millions of lives lost to one man's warped idea of perfection and justice. It was an echo of the dying screams of too many innocents who'd done nothing in their lives other than exist. Babies, women, the elderly. No one had been safe from the carnage that had cut a swath through Europe all too recently.

Finally, after what seemed like years, she found her voice again. "Where did they take you?" she whispered, meeting his eyes for the first time.

"Auschwitz," he replied, his expression unreadable.

"I'm so sorry, Erik," she said, though it was a sadly inadequate statement. It in no way encompassed the depth of her emotions or did anything abate them. It was just something to say. Some way of letting it out, even a tiny part of it.

He said nothing, only staring at her with those unfathomable eyes. She felt compelled to speak as if by some supernatural force. "It's my turn I suppose," she stated, standing in one nearly fluid movement and trying to ignore the surging pain in her hip. Shaking out her hair in the golden light of an afternoon sun, she took a deep breath and lifted the hem of her blouse until it came just beneath her breast, revealing her own atrocities and the demons she'd hid for so many years.

Thick, roping, ranging, purple lines, puckered and angry, crisscrossed her golden skin, turning her torso into mangled mass of destroyed flesh. Slowly, breathing heavily through her nose, she revolved on the spot, giving him a good view of her hip as well as her back where the largest scar exploded in a starburst shape and eradicated what had once been lovely.

Erik said nothing, and after a moment she sat back down and covered herself once more. He would never know how much that little peep show had cost her. They were her secrets, ghosts of past horrors that she had long since failed to banish completely from her mind. Worst of all, they were ugly. They made her hideous. Or perhaps they were only reflections of the hideousness within? She was a bitch, she knew that much. She was snappy and rude and mean. She wasn't very intelligent, and the rest of her certainly wasn't attractive. She was a beast. A mindless animal that Charles only tolerated because he pitied her. She was weak, cowardly, and her soul was about as black and withered as King Tut. She was strange with odd preferences and beliefs that no one understood, and she was incapable of ever being pleasant. The last few days had proved that.

What man would ever want a woman as pathetic and lowly as she? Certainly not the only one she'd ever wanted to want her. He was too good, too pure and righteous. His soul was untainted and beautiful and much, much too wonderful to ever move too close to one like hers. She would never be wanted. She would never be seen as anything other than a charity case. She would never be loved.

Her scars told her these things every time she looked in the mirror.

And so she hid them away from the world, petrified of them and the things they meant and the past they represented and the pain that had caused them. She hadn't realized that tears were flowing down her cheeks until a cool thumb gently wiped them away.

God dammit, you weak idiot! She would not cry in front of him AGAIN! She was better than this!

No you aren't, said a voice in the back of her mind. With a snarl, she dragged a rough hand across her face and swallowed her emotions with practiced ease. When she looked up at him, she was stone and it unnerved him. He could be cold and calculating, but never before had he been as dead as the creature before him.

"Who made them?" Erik asked her, suddenly finding himself inches away, his nose nearly brushing her own. Her eyes flicked down to his lips and back up again. They were so close now, and they almost seemed to beckon. The urge to lean forward was nearly overwhelming, but she would be strong.

"My father," she said.

And he was closing the distance between them, smashing their mouths together with bruising force, his teeth scraping against hers, his tongue forcing entry, but she didn't have the strength to deny it. The animal reared its ugly head, sensing an outlet, a mate to satisfy the heat that had burned inside her since she had turned eighteen. She had denied it as long as possible, wanting, hoping, praying that Charles might be the one, but her human side had been wrong. Love played no part in the couplings of animals, and the animal was stronger here.

Silly human. Who could ever truly want you? He's only doing this because he knows we can't resist any longer. He's a male, and we are female. We have needs, and you have not satisfied them. So I will.

Ellie faded, and Inferno took over.

Heat. Oh, delicious, magnificent heat. Searing my body, a thousand lightning strikes of ecstasy. A mate, finally a mate! Long have I waited for this, hungered for this. My bare skin in on fire, his fingers igniting and stoking it until I scream with its magnitude. His body is everywhere. Above, below, inside. He wastes no time. Yes, please, now! Don't wait, I can't wait any more.

Ouch.

Stop, that hurts.

Arrggh! Stop it! Make it stop!

Ow! Please, I'm begging you!

Pain.

Pain.

So much pain.

OxOxO

Her heart pounded violently in her chest, her breath coming in loud, ragged gasps as she burst through the front door of the facility. The animal slept soundly in the back of her mind once more, satisfied and exhausted while Ellie remained fully awake and aware. And horrified.

Oh, dear God, what had she done? She gave in. She let the animal win again! She was worthless, weak and unfit to call herself human! Her core ached with a throbbing pain that she embraced. She deserved it. She deserved whatever torture God decided to throw at her. She was lower than dirt and more repulsive than slugs! She was vile and she deserved the pain and the blood.

Her mind raged with self-hatred, anger, shame and fear. They consumed her as she raced down the hallways toward the vicinity of her room. Escape. She had to escape. At the same time, there was nowhere to go. Charles was just ahead, she could smell him. She sensed his questions at her mind's overwhelming distress. He'd sent her out to run so she would feel better, and she'd come back on the verge of hysterics.

She couldn't contain the pained sounds that escaped her throat as she came upon him, her face screwed up in agony. Her room. She needed her room. He would not see her break. He would NOT!

"Good Lord, Ellie, what on Earth's happened?" he asked her, nothing but concern and mild panic in his face. She saw none of it.

"Where is my room?" she demanded desperately, her eyes dancing with a strange light that bordered on madness.

"Ellie, what is it? You can talk to—"

"ROOM, CHARLES!" she shrieked, the sound of her voice alien. It was stark, raving mad and it foretold violence if he didn't answer.

For the first time in his life, he was absolutely terrified of her. Her scream made him flinch and jump, and he barely had time to flash her a mental image before she was gone again, hurling a thought back at him as she flew.

And I swear to God, Charles, if you trespass in my head I will not be held responsible for whatever happens to you.

Hurt surged through him at her words, and his mind cringed away from her emerald-and-apples thoughts like a threatened child. She'd never spoken to him like that before. What could have possibly happened to her to drive her so insane? For that's what she had been. He'd seen it in her face and her mind. Something had pushed her beyond the edge, and she'd truly snapped. She was frenzied, feverish and desperate, and he knew that her threat was a promise. He would not be looking in on her to find out. He could only hope that she would calm down eventually. He prayed that she would be alright.

Getting a bit more angsty here, I think. I don't know how I'm doing with it, so feedback is essential! This story is Ellie-centric, so Charles's parts are smaller and less in depth right now. They'll probably get a bit more extensive as the story goes on. Just thought you should know that.

P.S. I'm doing this super late at night again, so forgive mistakes and shoddy quality. I shall make up for it, I promise!