Josephine had always wanted a daughter, but she never expected to have one. Her husband had died during the Second World War and she'd never remarried. Quite simply, she couldn't imagine her life with another man. Victor had been her one true love. At fifty four she knew she would never have a child of her own, so she reluctantly began the adoption process. Of course, a woman her age was deemed unfit to raise any of the 'normal' children.

So they decided to pawn the freak off to the old hag from the mountains.

Josephine was thrilled with the girl. The child, although sickly and weak, was the embodiment of everything she had ever wanted in a daughter; curious and rambunctious, or at least her file indicated such. So what if the girl had a… skin condition. That could be easily overlooked.

"What's her name?" The woman asked as she crouched down on one knee to get a closer look of the runt. They were only five feet apart and the child seemed to be doing everything in her power to keep that distance between them.

The girl's large, doe-like eyes were blue, with no white to be seen in the bright pools. They were a touch unsettling, more because of the way they were watching Josephine than their inhumane color. Glaring at the Southern woman, she didn't move from her corner. Instead, kept her back to the wall and her bony knees pressed tightly to her chest. Her lanky arms kept them there, her posture tense and completely still as she watched the women. Her grey skin seemed to flicker, dancing between an ash and dark grey. It was the latter that stuck to her scaly skin, a stark contrast to the pale pink wall behind her

The social worker flipped open the case file. After searching the page a moment, she blushed. "It's Fern." The social worker, who was perhaps only ten years younger than Josephine herself, cleared her throat and moved to stand next to her. She never took her eyes off the girl as she spoke to the older woman, "You realize this is a delicate case, don't you Mrs. Ailey?"

"I ain't blind, Kelly, just old." Josephine held her hand out to the child again, this time motioning for the girl to come closer. "Come 'ere."

The child didn't move. Her eyes fell to the woman's hand, to her gnarled knuckles and calloused palm and she flinched. Instead of speaking, Fern turned to press her cheek against the wall.

Mrs. Kelly sighed and rubbed her forehead with perfectly manicured fingers. "I knew this was a bad idea, she really has been nothing but trouble since she was-"

"Hey, now give the girl a chance." Josephine stood, wiped her sweating palms on her blue jeans, and slowly moved closer to the child.

With nowhere left to go, Fern's massive blue eyes seemed to narrow at the woman.

"Come on, Fern, come 'ere."

She shook her head defiantly. A pout crossed her features, causing the dark zigzag-like markings on her scaly skin to ripple.

Josephine would have none of it. "Now, Fern. You wanna get outta here, don'cha?"

A spark of interest lit up the girl's features. Fern's glare lost its edge and she tilted her head. Her skin mellowed itself and returned to a lighter shade of grey than it had been before the woman came over. It was then Josephine realized the girl's head was not shaved, as she originally thought, but rather the short black strands were pulled back in a tight ponytail. The elderly woman offered her hand. The child stared at it and raised her own in reply. She jerked back violently when Kelly's voice cut in.

Patronizing and firm, the social worker sighed as she stepped closer to the pair. "Now, Fern-"

"Hush up, Kelly, I got this," Mrs. Ailey snapped over her shoulder, but her own blue eyes never left the mutant in front of her. She kept her features firm, but not angry. Her gaze never left the girl in front of her. "I ain't gonna hurt ya, baby. Come on, now. It's time to go home."

"Actually you can't take her until-"

"Please," Josephine scoffed at the other woman as the child took her hand. It was small in her own, and quivering just a tad. They stood. The Southerner towered over the child, with her lithe five foot nine inch form, and she gently pulled the child to her side. There was no resistance, although Fern did tense terribly as she was pressed to Josephine's leg. The eccentric woman waved her hand, indicating to the room around them. "You honestly expect me to leave her here?"

Mrs. Kelly's jaw dropped and her cheeks colored. "Excuse me?" She asked indignantly. "We do our best to keep these children-"

"In a cage? Look at this place!" Josephine's voice rose a tad and her gaze sharpened as Fern's grip tightened on her hand. "There're bars on the windows!"

"She sneaks out at night!" Kelly snapped. Her pale features darkened and she shook her head. Her manicured fingers tightened on Fern's file, crumpling the thin papers as she clenched her jaw. Her words stilted and sharp, she forced a smile at the blonde, "Fine. If we start the paperwork now you can be gone before nightfall."

Mrs. Ailey kept a firm hold of Fern's hand as she, head high and back straight, guided her out of the room. Mrs. Kelly walked ahead of them. Josephine squeezed the shaking, frail hand with gentle but calloused fingers and smiled down at her new ward.

"I'm Josephine Ailey. You can call me Josie, if you like. Or Mrs. Ailey." Her sun kissed cheeks flushed softly. "Or maybe ma, if you wanted."

Fern tilted her head. Ma? A fine membrane flicked over her eyes from under her eyelids and not for the first time, she was thankful she didn't have tear ducts. Instead, she shrugged and dropped her gaze to the floor. "Hm."

"How old are you? Five? Six?"

"Nine," The little one corrected passively. She was used to this. Fern knew she was scrawny; she'd been told hundreds of times, for as long as she could remember. She looked up at the woman suspiciously. "How old are you?"

Josephine winked at her. "Older than nine." A playful smile lit up her blue eyes and she ushered the little girl in ahead of her. "After you, kiddo."

-Six Months Later-

The first thing Josephine learned about raising a mutant child, or at least, this particular mutant child, was that Fern, when nervous, climbed the walls.

"Fern, you get down from there this instant, young lady!"

The girl shook her head and bared her teeth, skittering across the ceiling, away from her foster mother. "No."

"Yes." Josie held up the girl's coat. "Ya promised ya'd go without a fight!"

Fern frowned, her black hair swaying in midair as she shook her head violently. "I changed my mind!"

"Fern! Fern, you get down from there!" Josephine put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot. "I'll give ya to the count'a three before I get the broom."

"Aw, Ma-"

"One."

"I hate the broom!"

"Two."

"Fine! But if he tries to suck my blood we're leavin'!" Fern dropped gracefully to the ground. Her long arms crossed as she glared at her caregiver. "An' don't tell me he won't."

Josephine draped the girl's coat over her thin shoulders. "Draw your blood sweetheart, not suck it. He's not a vampire."

"Says you."

"What was that?"

"Nothin'." With a defeated sigh, Fern's skin began to change; the shade of it twisting from a dark to light grey in an intricate fashion. When she noticed, she slid the jacket on and zipped it until it was high on her throat, right up to her chin. She sniffed with irritation, glancing at the blonde woman curiously. Josephine seemed completely at ease, something that only furthered the child's anxiety. Sharp teeth bit the inside of her cheeks as she stuck her hands in her pockets.

When Josephine noticed the girl's tense posture, she asked her what was wrong.

Blue orbs went to blue eyes and the child shifted nervously. "They're… they're not gonna like…"

"Like what, darlin'?" Her new mother asked with a raised brow as she brushed some of the mutant's black hair from her anxious features.

"Like experiment on me, are they?"

Josephine dropped to one knee in front of the girl. Hands going to the child's narrow shoulders, she pursed her lips a moment before asking, "How long have we known each other?"

"Six months." Fern grumbled.

"And have I given you any reason to think I was gonna let 'em experiment on ya?"

The girl played with her hands. Her gaze focused on her black fingernails and their sharp points, she admitted, "No."

Josie tucked a piece of the girl's loose hair behind her ear. "Then trust me."

The ride was long, and most of it was filled with the static of radio as tiny hands continually switched over the channels. Knowing it was a nervous habit, Mrs. Ailey didn't say anything of it.

"Ma?"

"Yeah?"

"What is the specialist gonna do?"

"Well, he's gonna check you over, make sure you're healthy."

Fern's lips tightened. She didn't like the sound of that. With a swallow, she asked, "Is that all?"

"He's gonna tell us 'bout your mutation."

The child froze. For a few seconds, she was completely still, but her composure wasn't to last. The child began thrashing in her seat. Her voice became screeching and frightened as she frantically pulled at her seatbelt, "I knew it! Yer gonna let 'em poke and prod me 'til he gets what he wants and then I'm gonna-" With a growl, the seat belt was torn from its socket. "No!"

The woman quickly pulled to the side of the road and grabbed the seat belt.

The girl froze at the Josie's hands over her own before she began to thrash even harder.

"No!" she repeated, kicking and scratching at the woman. "No, no, no, no!"

"Fern! Fern, stop!" Josephine grabbed the child's arms and forced them down.

"No!"

"Fern, I'm not gonna let 'em hurt you!"

Her arms continued to flail, weak hands slapping and pushing at the woman as Fern screamed, "No! That's what they always say! No, no, no!" Fern bared her teeth threateningly, and for a moment, the woman was frightened. Those teeth were sharp… dangerous. "You can't make me!"

"Fern Ailey, you stop this, this instant, young lady." Josie's hands clamped down on her shoulders and she gave the girl a hard, much needed shake. "Now you know I ain't gonna let anything happen to ya, but you need to calm down and show me some respect."

"No." Fern had calmed. But her features were still hurt and scared. Her hands twisted the seat belt, tugging at it as she looked out the window "You can't make me go."

The woman pushed her daughter's black hair away from her face. Its colors were changing again. Shifting from light to dark to ash grey and back again. It was almost hypnotic. Josie swallowed and stroked the little girl's scaled cheek. "I can and I will. It's for yer own good, child. If I think they're gonna hurt ya, I'll take ya outta there. Now sit tight. The faster we get there the faster this'll be done with."

Fern's bottom lip quivered, but she surrendered, falling back into her seat without a word.

The specialist, as it turned out, was an elderly gentleman named Joshua Casten. He was a short man, but seemed genuinely kind and very curious. A dermatologist, his expertise lied in skin, and Fern's was turning out to be rather remarkable. He inspected it carefully, from the odd ridges on her fingertips and toes to the various lines and raised skin that flitted across her jaw and throat, rising above her naturally scaled skin. Similarly, the outsides of her arms held several thick, calloused scales that didn't fit in with the rest of her skin. Casten had hummed curiously over them, but didn't dare draw blood from them. The child was far too on edge for that. He also swabbed the inside of her cheek with a cotton swab –much to the child's distaste- and checked her reflexes.

"She's a little on the small side," He told Josie, who nodded and listened carefully, her fingers fiddling with the thin gold chain around her neck as he went on, "but otherwise she seems perfectly healthy."

Frowning, Fern pulled her jacket back on. She looked between the two of them with annoyance. "That's it? We can go now?"

"Well, Miss Ailey…" Casten got down on his knee and smiled at her. Her expression remained stony. He was unsurprised. Josie had filled him in on her background and knew what to expect from her. A distrust of strangers was not uncommon among children like Fern. Meaning adopted children, not children with her particular ailment; in truth he had never seen anything quite like her before. "I'd like to check back in with you in a few months. Judging by the texture and tone of your pores, I'm thinking you just might be poisonous."

"Poisonous?" Josie repeated with a hint of worry.

At her mother's tone, Fern glanced over at the woman before looking back at Casten. With a hint of skepticism, she asked, "What, like poison oak?"

Casten shook his head with a good natured chuckle. "Not exactly. It's just a theory, nothing to worry about as you are quite young." He made eye contact with Josephine and the woman got the feeling it was something they should be very much concerned about, regardless of his nonchalant manner. "But it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on it."

So Josephine nodded and forced a smile to her lips for the sake of the child. "Of course. When would you like to see her again?"

"I think we should make this a biannual appointment," He told her, tucking his penlight into his lab coat. "In the meantime, some sunlight would do her some good. Any outdoor activity would, in fact." He raised his hand to the girl's face and gave her cheek a playful pinch. "Get some color on those cheeks!"

Fern bit him.

He gave out a shocked cry and jerked away. The rage in her stare caught him off guard and he looked down at his wounded finger. Blood flowed steadily from the wound and he grabbed some paper towels from this desk.

"Fern." Josephine said sternly.

"He pinched me." The child whined with a huff.

Her caregiver crossed her arms. "Fern."

The girl sighed. Rolling her eyes, she recited, "Sorry, I bit you Dr. Casten."

He chuckled nervously. "Not a problem, Miss Ailey." Casten swallowed and nodded to the mother as she ushered her child out of the room. "Until January."

A/N: Depending on how this is received, I'll continue posting. I just want to give my lovely beta, Linda Ku, a shout out! She's been an amazing help. ^.^