Author's note: Hello, everyone! So, the more I wrote Allegiance, the more I realized how much story I was having to leave out by sticking to Hank's point-of-view. It gave me this itch to write the love story between these two from her eyes, but also to try something new. I feel like as a writer I tend to focus on the romance aspect of my stories too much, and I want to be better than that. So I'm hoping that with this story I'll branch out more. It's still going to be a romance, of course, but expect more secondary character involvement- including favorites like Quicksilver!

In short, this is the other side of Allegiance, but at the same time it can be read completely separately. Feedback is appreciated, and I hope to welcome back old readers and hopefully some new ones too. Thanks for your time!

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men. Just my OCs.

The First Time I Saw Your Face

January 27, 1973

Some people come to the City of Light for the museums and the architecture and the food (though God knows why French people eat snails and weird shit like that), but not me.

No, I came to Paris because I'm hunting down the asshole military scientist who kidnapped my little brother.

Major William Stryker took my brother Myles three- no, four months ago now, while we were doing surveillance on him for some other government slimeball. Strictly black bag operation. You know how it goes: inter-agency backstabbing can't have a paper trail, so sometimes they send out unaffiliated mercenaries to do their dirty work so it can't be traced back to them. No proof, no foul.

We were supposed to be gathering intelligence at one of Stryker's laboratories one night, but James and Myles got a little too careless and brought the entire guard detail down on themselves. I managed to set off an explosion as a diversion, but Myles got hit by a tranquilizer dart. James got out, he didn't.

I try not to blame my elder brother for this, but damn it's hard.

Also hard- getting Myles back. We've been trying, but Stryker has a bunch of laboratories around the United States, and even some in Canada. James came up with the "bright" idea of getting our hands on the bastard himself and forcing him to tell us where Myles is.

And since I couldn't talk him out of it, here we are in Paris.

High security, news cameras everywhere, broad daylight. Seriously, what can go wrong? I think bitterly as we survey the crowd in front of the Hotel Majestic.

"If we're going to do this, we should try to go through the parking garage," I suggest to James. When he looks like he's going to protest I turn towards him and snap, "come on, James, grow a fucking brain! With this level of security that's going to be our best bet at-"

Just then the crowd in front of the hotel starts freaking out, though from my vantage point I can't see why. My brother drifts forward, obviously curious, even as everyone else begins to scatter.

Great, just great. Just follow the screams of terror, brother mine.

I trail after him, feeling rather exasperated at this lack of caution-

And then I freeze.

There's a guy trapped in the hotel's fountain, like the metal fixtures came to life and bound him in place. Blue, furry, with clawed hands and fangs that I catch a glimpse of as he roars his frustration to the unfeeling skies.

Definitely a mutant of some kind. Like me, like both of my brothers. All of us have physical mutations too, but this man has that times a thousand. I mean, he's practically a walking billboard for "Mutants-R-Us."

My first, rather prosaic thought is how the hell did he get himself stuck up there? but curiosity quickly gives way to compassion as I watch him strain and then give up the hopeless struggle to free himself.

He's just trapped.

And everybody's looking at him like he's a zoo exhibit, like he's not a goddamn person who knows that they're all gawking at him in horrified fascination.

A chilling thought occurs to me then- maybe to them he's not a person. Maybe they think he's a monster.

Again, I feel a swell of sympathy for the man and anger at humanity's ignorance. I know what it's like to be targeted for being different.

Trust me, dude. I know the feeling.

The man winces, shying away from the stares and the cameras capturing this humiliating moment for prosperity's sake, but he's got nowhere to go. No matter how hard he tries, Mr. Blue can't break the metal bonds binding him in place in front of the Hotel Majestic.

It hits me then that Stryker's in that building. Stryker, the sadistic bastard who loves to use mutants as his playthings.

James and I have broken into a few labs while on our crusade to find Myles, and we've managed to liberate quite a few mutants from Stryker's clutches along the way. The things I've seen... I know exactly what's going to happen to Mr. Blue if that asshole gets his hands on him.

Someone should do something. Someone should help-

My feet are moving before I even decide that today "someone" is going to have to be me.

James tries to stop me, but I bat his hand away and pull up my hood, the better to hide my face as I run. I brush past the other onlookers and have to resist the urge to scream at all of them for their lack of empathy. Can't they see that the poor guy is suffering?

With my running start I manage to leap into the fountain and land on the mutant, gripping his thigh with my knees like I do this every day.

Glad that worked, or that could've been really embarrassing.

"Hi," I say cheerfully. God, I hope he speaks English. I speak Cajun and Creole but I know Parisian French is different. "Hold still for a second, ok?"

"W-what are you doing?" Mr. Blue asks, with evident astonishment. I can't say I blame him for his surprise, considering how everyone's giving him the circus freak treatment right now.

He's pretty hot, I muse. Muscles for days, high cheekbones, and that blue is so striking.

And you'd expect all the fur to smell like wet dog right now, but he actually smells really nice.

Now that I'm close enough to get a read on his scent I can tell he's a feral mutant, like me. His eyes are absolutely gorgeous- gold around the pupil, and a startling orange around the edge of his irises. They remind me of sunsets, and against the blue of his skin-

Get it together, Babineaux.

I scoff at myself and peer up at the metal bindings holding him in place. "What does it look like I'm doing?" I ask rhetorically. "I'm trying to get you out of this. You don't exactly match the decor."

Hot as he is, I'm pretty sure "furry blue guy in distress" was not the aesthetic the architects were going for when they designed this fountain.

His legs will be easy enough to untangle, but the metal around his wrists is much too tight. I can feel him staring at me as I reach into a boot for one of my adamantium knives (a souvenir from a previous foray into my least favorite mad scientist's laboratories) to easily cut him loose.

"Thank you," Mr. Blue murmurs sincerely.

His genuine earnestness brings a reluctant, sheepish grin to my face. Yeah, I'll probably pay for this kind deed later, but in this moment it's completely worth it to save this guy.

"You're welcome," I reply. "Good luck."

Then I lean in and kiss him on the cheek. Mostly as a token of farewell, but also because a tiny part of me wants to know if the fur covering most of his face and chin is as soft as it looks.

It's even softer.

Grinning, I hop off of him and land on the fountain's edge.

It's only once I clear a police car with one jump and disappear into the crowd that I start to worry about the repercussions of my good deed. No one saw my face, but this whole fiasco has definitely put the kibosh on getting Stryker today.

Oh, James is going to be pissed.

Sure enough, Brother Dearest looks well and truly ticked off when he meets me at the rendezvous point we agreed upon earlier for if we got separated.

"Nice going, Vivien," he snarls. "What the hell was that for?"

I sigh.

James and I have never really been on the same page, but lately- ever since we lost Myles- it's just gotten worse. I know he's not going to understand my compassionate impulse, not when it cost us a shot at getting our brother back today.

So instead I just shrug and mutter an apology. My half-hearted gesture does nothing to soothe his anger, of course.

And besides, I admit to myself, thinking of that blue mutant's gratitude. I don't mean it, anyway.