Chapter 1

Hank McCoy is a restless spirit when he is claimed by curiosity. He starts by asking himself a question and the next thing he knows, his lab table is messy and cluttered and revealing no answers to him whatsoever. He knows this before he starts. He knows that even when he can no longer see the surface of his desk for it is covered with books and papers and vials and test-result slips and self-prepared concoctions, he will not have his answer. Because the question he asks himself is a recurring one. And he hasn't found the answer to it before, so he knows he won't find it now.

Yet he still keeps asking himself this one. And he still keeps trying to change.

"The labrat wants you, McCoy," he suddenly hears. The voice is coming from approximately five meters away, 47 degrees to his left. The doorway. Erik Lensherr. Another question Hank has never been able to find the answer to. The man is an enigma when it comes to anything that scratches deeper than the surface and Hank finds himself intrigued by his very presence every time he's near.

On one side, he admires him for this. But on the other, he finds himself detesting a man who keeps pushing the idea of self-appreciation. Easy for you to say, he thinks then, a white man with symmetric features and a power that doesn't change any outward appearances. And then you call me lucky for having big feet.

On the one hand, they're just feet. Sure, people he's close to might see them, and swimming isn't really an option for him unless he wants to be stared at the whole time, but they're pretty easy to cover up. He's not like Raven, whose mutation is visible over her entire body. But then again, her power allows her to cover it up and what's more, she can turn into whomever she wants; not just one person that isn't blue. Hank isn't as lucky as she is. Now that he thinks about it, Hank isn't as lucky as anyone on the team. Even Angel manages to pull off having wings by making them look like a tattoo. She can fly for Heaven's sake! What can he do? Hang from the ceiling. Big whoop.

"Hank?"

He looks up quickly, trying to mask his thoughts by replying curtly, "Sorry. I'll be right up."

Alex sees the look of utter bliss that takes over Bigfoot's face when he realizes that his big-ass feet are capable of more than just being big.

"Would you like to give it a go?" the professor asks, and Hank nods enthousiastically.

Evidently, there is more to his stupid, lame-ass feet than meets the eye, as he can apparently run rather quickly. Good for you, he thinks, trying to sound snarky, even to himself. He knows he doesn't. He knows he's jealous of Hank. Great, wise Hank, who will never hurt a single soul with his power. Unlike him, who could easily kill fifty people with just one slip of his self-control.

Bigfoot is still smiling when he's done with the run and Alex can hear himself saying something snarky to him, but doesn't really register the words that fall from his lips. He can tell from the look on Hank's face that he's somewhat hurt, though, and soaks it up like a sponge. So what if you run faster than I can? I'd still blast you from a mile away. He knows he's underplaying the term 'faster', since Hank can obviously run faster than a race-car could drive, but it feels nice to know that he's still stronger than the person he envies the most.

Charles can sense the power-play struggle that's going on between them, but doesn't voice his concerns for now. He realizes that they're young men who have different qualities and need to lay out their boundaries for each-other by themselves. Even though he can tell that Hank has taken on his usual passive role and really just wants to keep away from Alex altogether, he can also sense an underlying need -almost a hunger- to preserve his honor. Hank is not a pushover. He's just learned the word 'self-preservation' sooner than others his age, which makes him look like a loser in Alex' eyes.

But he can also see a more fragile side to Alex whenever the blonde makes some idle remark about whatever Hank is doing wrong in the boy's eyes. He seems less alive whenever he's breaking someone down, almost as if he's just seen a downside to the life he calls his own and therefore wants to bring everyone around him down to the same level. Perhaps this is why he's usually less hostile toward Sean. As much as Alex thinks he's a fighter, he's actually pretty unsure about his own capabilities. But he sees in Sean a sort of laid-back confidence in the way he allows himself to be taken to new heights and unkown terrains and wishes he knew such confidence, himself.

If only he could tell Alex that 'no, you are most certainly not as weak as you're making yourself out to be' before he irreparably hurts himself. He knows what it feels like to be undermined, especially by yourself. He also knows that Alex needs no more in life than to feel needed and wanted. Hank wants more. Hank wants to shoot for the stars and become noticed for who he is instead of what he is. Others would tell him that he's wrong; that Alex is the one who is reaching too far and that Hank is the calm and reserved one who needs very little to thrive. But Charles knows.

The only one who confuses Charles is Sean, really. One moment the boy is your average, happy-go-lucky teenager, and the next, he's quiet and distant and standoffish. But he does it with a certain grace, a sort of quiet passing that goes unnoticed by those who aren't paying attention. He's not your everyday emotionally loaded teen that's experiencing mood-swings. But sometimes, Charles can't help but think he's bipolar. Manic depression is not a disorder to be trifled with and he regularly wishes he had the proof to back it up so they could treat him for it without having him blow up in their faces. Or shut himself away from them for an immeasurable amount of time.

He's very unhelpful with Charles' research on this case, though. Sean wouldn't harm a fly, but he doesn't show any kind of passive behavior you would find in a frail-minded person. He won't intentionally hurt anyone's feelings, but he won't unnecessarily add some sort of happy remark to a conversation. He won't bring anyone down, but compliments are not for his lips. He's neutral. Too neutral.

Sean confuses Charles. For even with his mind-reading skills, the professor never catches any violent emotional outbursts from the boy inside his own head. He never hears the angry remarks better left unsaid from Sean the way he hears them from everyone else. At first, he'd thought that this was because of his mutation - that the keening pitch of the boy's voicebox somehow managed to re-embody itself in his mind. But as it turns out, Sean just isn't that sort of person. And try as he might, Charles can't figure out what kind of person he is.

Hank pours two glasses of lemon juice. He must admit - having found a fellow lover of the acidic zest truly astounds him. He wouldn't have pegged Sean as much of a juice drinker, let alone lemon juice, but then again he doesn't know much about him at all. Though, to be fair, none of them really know much about the copper-headed mutant.

He hands the boy the glass and delights in watching him take a long, slow sip without wincing. This is where real power lies - on the taste buds. Not in your biceps. Alex is such a baby.

Erik enters the room and shoots the both of them a mildly disgusted look. Hank struggles to contain a snort, but when he glances over at Sean the boy is getting up off his chair and depositing his glass in the dishwasher before leaving the room without another word.

Hank is looking at him oddly again, Erik thinks. He's noticed the way he's been doing that more and more lately, as if at first he'd just been some sort of uninteresting, half-unfinished puzzle left to collect dust on the coffee table, but all of a sudden some sort of pattern has become clear and he's worth the effort again. The scientist intrigues him as well, but no more than the labrat does. Both are smart, and Erik likes intelligence. He likes knowing that mutants aren't always brawn and no brains. It's too easy for most of them to get by on self-pity and raw power, the way he had in the past.
For this reason, he worries for Alex, who reminds him painstakingly of himself. Alex is the perfect example of teenage years gone wrong. There was no partying, or college dorms, or family get-togethers. No home, no Sunday roast, no mother or father or the family dog. There was fighting, though. A lot of fighting for a scrap of repentance to make up for everything he did wrong when he could not save his family.

Alex is full of pent-up energy. Pent-up emotion. Anger. Hostility. Hatred. Most of which is directed toward himself.
Hank is calm. Organised. Confused, yes, but not angry over it. Impatient and slightly annoyed he may be indeed, but he certainly won't stock up his emotions to have some sort of emotional breakdown in the near-future.
Alex doesn't think of these things. He doesn't think about letting go of his emotions. So long as he can keep himself from bursting in the present, the future matters not.

Erik worries about Alex.

Raven finds it hard to live in a house filled with men. As easy as it is for her to turn into a male, she knows that she will always be that blue, scaly woman on the inside. Sure, she's got her girl friends to talk to when it comes to girly things, but they have different things on their minds than finding out how to look human. They just want to force acceptance onto people. They want others to marvel at their beauty, while Raven just wants to hide her blue skin away from prying eyes. Only Hank could ever understand what it feels like to look like a freak, but she can tell that Hank is jealous of her ability to shape-shift, notwithstanding the fact that his only worry are his feet.

No. When Raven thinks about it, the only person who understands her is Erik. Erik knows what it feels like to hate hating what you are, to despise being despised. And Erik is the only one (besides Charles, but that doesn't count) who tells her she's beautiful.

Erik is special. He isn't like the rest of them. But that also means he isn't like her.

Sean doesn't understand much about Mutants, but he sure does understand rules. Therefore, he can not comprehend Alex' pleasure when he sneaks into Sean's room with a bottle of liquor from the cabinet downstairs. Alex appears to be as joyful as a young child who has managed to eat the last cookie from the jar with no-one noticing.

And although Sean knows very well what the consequences could be for breaking the rules, he joins in on Alex' fun. And he feels better than he has in a long, long time. The alcohol is strong and tingles his nose as it burns down his throat, but he refrains from coughing. After several more swigs, he feels a gentle pricking behind his eyelids and realises that his eyes are closed and thin, nearly unnoticeable tears are leaking from the corners. He wipes his eyes quickly with the back of his knuckle and watches Alex stretch forward drowsily, holding out the nearly-empty bottle. He accepts it clumsily and downs the last sips, feeling more sated and warm than ever.

Sean doesn't understand much about Mutants, but he does understand rules.
And the rule of life is to eat or be eaten.

Erik doesn't know why it unnerves him so much. If it had been any other word, or perhaps just any other person, it probably wouldn't have meant anything at all. But because it was Sean, and because his face was so blank, and the syllable had been so... dejected... everything just seemed to crash down simultaneously.

Why had he said those things to the boy, anyway? To get a rise out of him?
'Who do you think you are, to steal something like that?! It's not only that you broke the law with your under-age drinking, you also took something that wasn't yours! Alex, I expect this behavior from. But you? But perhaps that's your deal, then. Whatever it is, I am ashamed. And I am insulted to watch a fellow mutant steal from another mutant. It repulses me. Your behavior from last night simply disgusts me.'

But that wasn't the worst part. That was when he still felt angry.

'Oh.'

That had been the worst part. When the pang of guilt suddenly struck his heart and bled throughout his chest, screaming at him to place a hand on the unruly ginger hair and assure him that he would be forgiven after the due apology. Without a second thought.

But he hadn't. Instead, he'd watched the boy keep his gaze trained on the ground, stiffening up his shoulders as though expecting some sort of physical chastisement. As though he were expecting Erik to hit him. And Erik hadn't corrected the behavior - hadn't assured him that such a thing would never happen. Was it the power-play? Did he enjoy being feared by others? Did he enjoy the upper-hand? The feeling of strength? Or was it that he'd hated himself for being just like that when he was younger and wanted to see the boy suffer?

It must have been utter agony trying to figure out what Erik's next move would be. Well, in all honesty, it had been to deliver the exact same speech to Alex, but after carefully watching Sean's response, he wasn't so sure he could repeat the words.

Sean's was indeed a hard shell to crack. But the more he succeeded in doing so, the less he found he wanted to see what sort of nut was incased within. Because he had the nagging feeling that it would be dusty, rotten and black.

He knows Erik thinks he and Sean had been alone when it happened, but actually Charles had been watching from the kitchen window. Charles is also aware of the fact that Alex had been up on the roof, overhearing the raised voice of his elder mutant and the gentle lilt of his younger one.
He wants to believe that 'it' wasn't really much of a 'happening' at all, but he feels like he's gotten a little bit closer to unraveling the mystery that is Sean when he sees a mask take over the boy's pale features and he sees, through the young mutant's own memories, a rapidly flying fist distort his vision. He hears some sort of distant yelling along the lines of, ' You're a freak! A curse of the devil! You are not mine!' and 'We can't keep you in this house anymore, Seanie. Daddy and I love you, but we just can't deal with all of this. You're overcomplicating things for Cady. It's not fair on her, either, is it? Doesn't she get to live a normal life?'

The odd thing is that he never once felt any anger directed toward these thoughts from Sean. The only emotion he felt when witnessing the replayed memories was some sort of devastated acceptance. And his thoughts were just as filled with morbid rejection as his emotions, as the only thing he heard from the boy was the steady repetition of 'Oh's.

He knows Erik can't possibly understand any of this, but he can tell by the way he leans forward slightly toward the young male in front of him that he seeks to comfort and make right what he had done wrong, even though his wrongdoings weren't such horrible misdeeds. In fact, Charles would have done the exact same thing had Erik not told him that he, with his additional height and muscle-mass, would be more imposing and therefore more effective in stalling future attempts at sneaking alcohol up into student bedrooms.

But had it been Charles, he knows that after reading the boy's thoughts, he would have grabbed him then and there and forced the memories out of his head. And that would have been no good at all. Discipline is not something you could carry out half-and-half. Sean knows that. Charles knows that he knows that.

What he doesn't know, is what he is supposed to do with this information.

Alex worries over his hide when he hears Erik's frustration. It isn't much of a lecture that he is giving Sean, but he can hear the anger very clearly. 'Ashamed' and 'repulses' have nearly no meaning to him anymore, but anger is certainly a bad thing. Anger means a beating and a beating means child protective services and child protective services mean frustration and danger and lies and schemes and prison.

Ugh. He doesn't want to think about these things. Instead, he listens intently to hear what Sean's scared response will be.

'Oh'.

Oh. Oh?! What does he mean, 'Oh'?! What the hell does that even stand for?!

Alex likes Sean. Hank is annoying and smart and pricky about it. But Sean is quiet and calm, leaving him with enough room to go crazy if he wants to. Not that he will, but he knows that Sean would never make a big deal out of it if he were to start throwing things at the younger mutant. Because even though he seems like he's an airhead, Alex can actually tell that he's very smart behind those calculating blue-green eyes.

It takes one to know one.

Even if Alex is a little more vocal with his objections, he can tell that Sean gets irritated by the little things in life as well. Everyone does. Normally. He says 'normally' because he's certain of the fact that the professor doesn't, but the professor isn't really normal, so that doesn't count.
On another note, Alex may not be the smartest crayon in the box, but he most definitely isn't stupid. He says stupid things, but that's just because he likes to annoy people.

In any case, he likes Sean's company. He likes to train with him and enjoys the healthy banter they shoot back and forth when no-one else is around. Whenever they go somewhere together as a team, Sean usually tags along with him. He likes it that way. He likes being a part of something small within something big. Like he is wanted and needed.

Raven sits and stares at the clouds overhead, contemplating life and its difficult contours.
Hah! Nah, really she was simply staring at the clouds because they're fun to look at and she gets to turn her brain on zero when she does. It has nothing to do with being melancholy or an anxious teen.

On the other hand, certain thoughts do bubble up to the surface whenever she tries to think of nothing, and they usually aren't too nice.

Freak!
What's WRONG with you?!
What is that thing?
It's disgusting!
Don't go near it!
It's not a child, is it? Why is it blue?
Stay back! It's probably feral!

Why was being blue and scaley such a bad thing, anyway? Fish are often blue and scaley. Blueberries are blue. Jeans are blue. And people dye their hair blue all the time! So what's wrong with having blue skin, red hair, and golden eyes? Why is it so terrible to be different?
...Why doesn't anybody want her?