More Than Meets the Eye

* * *

"It's definitely her."

"Are you certain?"

"I saw the papers with my own eyes."

"They could have been forgeries."

A swift shake of the head. "No. I saw how he looked at her. It's her."

Fingers drummed against a mahogany surface. "Do they know?"

"I don't think so."

"You constantly underestimate these people, Doctor. A dangerous miscalculation."

"It was sentimental reasons, only, sir. That was clear."

A sigh. "The question is, can we get her back?"

"I'm having a lawyer check it out."

"And if he says no?"

An uncomfortable sigh. "As a group, they are a formidable enemy. That school is impenetrable."

"Then we shall have to wait until she leaves the school. Or entice her to leave it."

"How can we do that?"

A shuffle of papers, a single picture placed on top. "Through him. It has been some time, over a month. I'm sure she would like a night out. And who better to invite her than her confidante?"

"Will he do it?"

Another picture. "You might be a master of matters of head, Doctor, but it is I who understand matters of the heart." A cruel smile. "He will lead her right into our trap."

* * *

Hank looked up as he walked out of the elevator, his attention drawn to the murmuring of several voices at the far end of the hall, near the kitchen. He couldn't make out voices, but the pitch and intensity didn't bode well for the overall well-being of the school's atmosphere.

*We need to start giving them more homework. That would discourage fighting.*

With a sigh, he set the journal article he had been carrying on a table and started down the hall to break up whatever teenage drama had prompted the current outburst.

"How dare you!"

He frowned as he recognized the clear soprano voice, sharpened with anger and indignation, and hurried his step a little.

"Since everyone else here seems intent on coddling you, someone has to be the person to set you straight," came a frosty retort. "Parents will not send their children to a school with a teacher whose last assignment was an insane asylum - as a patient."

He turned the corner to see Faith standing opposite a haughty Emma Frost. Faith was obviously upset, and Emma her usual smug self. Students surrounded them.

"Really?" Faith started bitterly. "They don't seem to have any problem with a teacher whose last assignment involved taking her clothes off!"

"Ladies, I think we should take this somewhere else," Hank interrupted loudly, trying to cut through the crowd. He could see Storm on the other side trying to do the same.

"Once a nutcase, always a nutcase," Emma snapped.

"Emma!" Storm said sharply. "Come on, let's go to my office with this."

"Well, once a wh-"

"Faith!" Hank said quickly.

Despite her inability to finish it, that comment had stung. Emma drew herself up to her full, impressive height, and looked down at Faith disapprovingly. "Anyone with so little common courtesy is nothing more than a bad influence on our students and has no place at this school," she said in a low voice that barely carried to Hank's ears. "Of course, that what's to be expected when was in nothing more than some degenerate orphan that even her parents couldn't love. Are you sure that story about your mother wasn't just a cover so she didn't have to deal with a daughter like you?"

SMACK!

A deafening silence settled over the room as Hank, and everyone else, stared in disbelief at the rapidly reddening mark on Emma's cheek and the fury on Faith's face.

"Don't you EVER talk about my parents again," she said quietly. Without another word, she spun on her heel and stalked from the room.

Amost immediately, the spell over the room broke and the silence erupted into chaos. Emma began shrieking as Storm tried to calm her, and the students began chattering excitedly.

"Enough!" Hank bellowed. "Surely if you all have time to mill around in here, you all have time to, say, give the rec room an extra good cleaning," he threatened. Within moments, the room cleared of students.

"Emma, go down to my office, we can discuss this there," Storm was saying placatingly.

"Discuss it? There is no discussion! I want her gone!" Emma shrieked. With a flounce, she traipsed off down the hall.

Hank rolled his eyes. Leave it to Emma to be melodramatic.

Logan wandered into the room. "What the hell happened here? Someone said Faith decked Emma."

"Not now, Logan," Hank said shortly.

The other man shrugged. "Whatever. I'll go find Rogue. She's always up on the gossip."

"Logan, go check on the children," Storm said warningly. "Make sure they've all found something constructive to do.

"Spoilsport," he grumbled. "Still gonna find Rogue," he muttered as he passed Hank.

"Hank," Storm started.

He nodded. "I'll find her."

Rubbing her temples, Storm followed Emma down toward her office.

Hank turned and left the kitchen, reasonably certain he knew where to look for the other woman.

He slipped out the large French doors into the garden, weaving his way through the paths to the quiet secluded corner he had shown her a few weeks earlier. Since then, it had become one of her favourite spots, and he often found her here.

Stepping around a large evergreen, he saw her on a bench, sitting under a towering maple tree, her back to him. Quietly he walked up behind her, laying on large hand on her shoulder.

She jumped and turned toward him, obviously startled. "It's all right, it's just me," he reassured. She must have been very upset, not to notice his approach, either physically or empathically.

He glanced at her as he crossed around behind the bench to sit beside her. Her eyes were red, and her face flushed, and even as she tried to wipe them away, he saw tears streaking down her cheeks. Digging in his pocket, he pulled out a handkerchief and pressed it into her hand.

"Thanks," she sniffed, using it to wipe her cheeks.

"Want to tell me what that was all about?" he broached.

"Not especially," she answered flatly.

"Despite the phrasing of the question, you actually didn't get an option, there," he corrected.

She slumped back against the bench. "It doesn't matter," she muttered.

"Not an acceptable answer, young lady," Hank said, a warning tone in his voice.

Her eyes flashed at him. "I'm not one of your students, Hank," she snapped.

"No, but that doesn't make your answer any more acceptable."

She huffed, crossing her arms across her chest stubbornly.

Hank watched her in silence for several moments. "Faith, this is your opportunity to tell your side before the Professor gets home," he finally said.

Her shoulders slumped, the defiance gone, as she considered his words. "It's just music," she finally muttered.

"I'm sorry?" Hank asked, confused.

"Music. I asked the Professor if he would consider letting me take over teaching music here at the school. Kitty said you don't have a music teacher," she explained.

Hank smiled. "Well...that's wonderful, Faith! I didn't know you were a musician!"

"I'm a trained pianist," she said. "I have my top levels, everything. When Kitty said students have to go into the city to get music lessons, I thought... I wanted to help. But apparently Emma didn't think it was so wonderful."

Hank grimaced. "Emma can be... well, harsh sometimes," he explained weakly. "But she doesn't speak for us all, or even the majority. And she certainly doesn't make decisions."

She sniffed. "I know that.It just... stung. Because it's true. People aren't going to care WHY I was in an insane asylum, they'll just care that I was there." Tears started to run down her cheeks again. "I'm just tired of feeling useless around here, and... like an outsider."

"An outsider?" Hank questioned with a frown. "Faith, this is your home."

"I have no purpose here, Hank," she said despondently. "I'm not a teacher, I'm not a student, and I'm certainly not an X-Man."She twisted his handkerchief in her hands. "I just thought I might be able to carve out a place for myself this way."

He reached over to squeeze her shoulder gently as understanding dawned. "To begin with, Faith, Emma doesn't make the decisions here. That's left to Charles, and he will do what is best for the school. And your background will not be disclosed to parents, no more than anyone else's here is disclosed." He put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. "Don't judge everyone here by Emma. She doesn't speak for us all. Wait to see what Charles will say."

"He's gonna be really mad," she muttered.

"He is likely not going to be thrilled that you slapped his English teacher, no, but we've had personality conflicts among the staff before," Hank said. "And I'll explain what was going on before you speak to him."

"My advocate, huh?" she quipped. "I should really feel bad about being such a snot then. And likely ruining your handkerchief." She offered out the somewhat damp item.

"No offense taken, my dear," Hank assured her. He reached for the handkerchief, just missing it as it dropped from her fingertips. "Oops, allow me.."

"Oh shoot, I'll get it..." Faith started.

Their heads came together with an audible thunk as they both leaned forward, and Hank cringed. "Oh my stars and garters, are you okay?" he asked quickly, rubbing the spot on his head.

"Okay, that hurt," she gasped, clutching her head. "Remind me not to try dealing with you as I did with Emma."

""Here, let me see," he said, gently drawing her hand away. He hissed in sympathy at the already spreading bruise. "That is going to hurt." He carefully felt around the edge. "We'd better put some ice on it. Just as well, anyway. I just heard the Professor's car pulling in. He'll want to speak to you."

"Oh, God, do I have to?" she moaned, slumping back on the bench. "It's okay, I'd rather deal with the concussion."

"Come, my dear," Hank said, lifting her off the bench and setting her on her feet. "Just be glad you aren't a student. At least you won't wind up with detention and an 8:30 curfew."


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AN: Yes, it was a totally self-indulgent scene, I know, but it will get the story where I need it to go, and I wanted to write a scene where SOMEONE slapped Emma. As always, reviews would be muchly appreciated