And what is this creature...

[futures_of_ash]

Who: Rachel, Hank
When: A year or so after the Vongola kids start attending at Sean's campus.
What: Therapy, of sorts.

"Not to seem unkind my dear," Hank noted from his desk, "but I didn't expect you today?"

Rachel chuckled, fingering the visitor's badge on her coat ruefully. Visiting S.W.O.R.D. station was always something of a hassle, given she was a walking intergalactic incident these days, but she preferred it here as opposed to meeting Hank in New York proper or at the mansion. Far preferred. "No, I just needed to...talk." That was an understatement honestly.

A vast understatement she was realizing.

"By all means," he blinked, closing the book he'd been referencing and rising to join her at the observation window in his office.

She'd tried to settle at a chair, honestly she had, but being outside Earth's atmosphere made it hard. Just that tiny step closer to starsong and the vast, open freedom of deep space sang through her bones like nothing else she'd found could. One of the parts of herself she was learning to firmly label as 'intrinsic but inhuman', Phoenix, not mutant. Not that she wanted to pry apart the edges of her nature, no, she felt complete as she was, all sides of her nature content in the being they had forged against all odds. No, but it was important to understand which parts of her thinking were outside the bounds of what could live on Earth. "I may need to do something terrible," she admitted quietly.

To give Hank his due he didn't even balk, just laid a warm, blue hand on her shoulder with that deep feeling of worried compassion that he seemed to bring with him everywhere. "I don't understand, Rachel, start at the beginning? Then we'll discuss how terrible this thought of yours is?" Because in some lights, and needs, it might not be? He was, above all,, a logical creature.

She laughed ruefully again and leaned into that hand, never loathe to accept kind contact as she stared out at the stars, "I just need to talk to someone he can't read," she admitted. "It's all so much in my head. There's room, so much room for everything in my head, but it's lonely to hold it all alone..."

"By he you mean...?"

"Xavier," she admitted. "Logan is busy, and you he can read your surface thoughts but you compartmentalize so well, habit of living with a telepath I think? He doesn't find most of your mind. It frustrates him, even if he's labeled you as harmless, in the 'on my side' column."

That hand squeezed a moment, worried, but..."is it paranoia Rachel?"

"No," she admitted. "Not in the least. I'd like to show you everything if I may, what I was, what I am, what he crafted me to be. I'm learning to recognize what is and is not a desire for a weapon, though the methods changed. I always had trouble with that." To say the least. Raised in terror and horror to obedience, trained to follow orders and look for a leader no matter she was strong on her own.

"Has he...hurt you?" Hank offered carefully.

That got her gaze to tear away from the stars, the smile fading away in favor of harsh, dark tattoos across her face, "oh Hank, he's hurt everyone. But me he pulled the Hound training to the forefront. Pried every command word from me when I first arrived and used it as a barbed leash to keep me under his hand."

If a blue furred face could pale, well, likely his did? "Xavier is a good man..."

"He is a man who created a child army, Hank. A man whose closest allies in time learned to wear metal helmets due to his manipulations, and who forged a moral compass for his children that he does not adhere to." At all. Xavier was above such things as long as he could justify nudging minds this way and that as 'the greater good'. He crafted the world to his whim at this point, and parts of the wider universe that were susceptible to his ability. "I've walked through his mind in lessons, and seen far more than he ever wanted to show me." She always did. Xavier had to exert some energy to filter loud minds out, true, and he could hear across the globe if he needed to, but it took effort and attention.

She had the opposite problem. She heard it all. A single world was so small after all. The telepathic rule of 'non-intrusion', for her, meant politely ignoring everything when she could. Pretending, and well, that Xavier's test thoughts and jabs didn't even register. The world was a radio array to her, set loud and constant, a numbing wash of white noise. She had several lifetimes worth of practice of appearing unmoved and uninformed by this point though, no matter how casually Xavier dismissed that fact. He couldn't wrap his mind around her experiences, and how easily she shook loose from one reality or time, to live in another. He assumed she exaggerated, as any young lady would, to seem more powerful. More important. As if she knew what normal young ladies would do, or needed to seem more powerful than she was.

She'd pity the man, if she didn't hate him.

"Rachel..."

She didn't bother talking now honestly, just held out a hand, "years, Hank. I'd like to give you the years I've experienced with Xavier. Everything I have. I know it will take time for you to pick through them, to analyze, and if in the end you tell me that my worries are unfounded I will consider shifting my opinion. I know you admire him. I know he ensures most do. The years I hand over have layers of observation that you don't have the senses for, but you are one of the most intelligent, and compassionate, people I know. You won't rush your judgement. You will weigh, analyze, consider, and offer truth when you decide to speak. If I am wrong I invite you to medicate me, if I can be medicated. I invite you prescribe any therapy you desire, and I will attend. But I want you to have the information first. Consider it my...medical file." Because she'd never have anything as traditional as paper to hand over.

Especially with Xavier as her 'handler' in this world and time.

Hank sighed and lifted his hand away to clean his glasses, buying a few moments of breathing space. On the one hand he was delighted at the level of trust implied. And excited, he had to be honest about that, that someone like what he suspected Rachel to be, would bare herself to this degree. On the other hand it was a high degree of responsibility, and implanted memory, even if handed over as a file rather than an attempt to cloud his mind, was...a degree of vulnerability on his part he hadn't woken up anticipating. Could he say no?

Should he?

The wistful hunger in her gaze as she turned back to the window, allowing him the time to debate with himself decided him. No one who held out against that kind of draw needed to manipulate to the degree this situation lent itself to. Far from. "Alright. You've been my casual patient for a while Rachel, I will handle this with all the integrity and ability it requires."

"Thank you Hank," she shivered, flame washing over her skin before she turned to kiss him.

He'd never been kissed by Rachel before, a fact that was, distantly, in the back of his mind, a pity. Hank McCoy preferred to think of himself as a rational man, but as such tended toward, poetry moved him deeply at times. The flow of memory and emotion was like sonnets on his tongue; some ineffably tragic, others burning, sparkling joy and the rain of words in between the two extremes. If he were being charitable he might call himself tipsy. In reality it was likely closer to mentally and emotionally drunk after such a...download. He couldn't call it anything less clinical and hope to stay stable right at the moment. "Why...me?" he finally breathed when she stepped back.

She blinked glowing eyes at him and touched his face, "you're my doctor, Hank. And my friend. I love you, and those I love in a different manner and WANT to share with...he can read. Easily. I don't dare protect them." Because it was one thing to shield young, unknown minds from Xavier. It was a completely different thing to occlude those he checked on a regular basis. "Hide my...file...well."

"My dear," he chuckled hoarsely, "nothing breaks my doctor patient confidentiality." He hoped.

"I believe you," she admitted, hands stroking the window glass now, flamings trails bleeding through the clear substance in wake of her skin. "Should I go now?" Grant him time to sort and collate the data?

He ran a hand up through his mane, considering, then shook his head, "no, tell me about this terrible thing, Rachel."

Ah, of course. She folded her legs under herself, sitting on air before the window, then nodded. "I will need to deal with the Shi'ar."

Of course. He should have expected that honestly given the uproar that was S.W.O.R.D. after the strike on the Summer's family reunion that left a branded Rachel standing in smoking rubble and crisped corpses. "Define 'deal'."

"Deal. Settle. Remove the threat," she sighed. "I am...layers, Hank. I am myself, and myself is many. We are Phoenix, Mother Askani, Hound Seventeen, Rachel, Lady Pain, and everything in between. I have lived more lives than people ever ask about and I have finally, FINALLY learned that they had no right to do what they did. I sneak, and shift, and pretend to obey under this mark they stamped on my back, just like I do for Xavier only writ on the galactic scale."She liked being near Hank, he had such an immense vocabulary for her to draw on...it helped convey what she truly meant. "They layered chains on me. My bloodline. My mind. I am not to step above a certain power level. I am not to breed. I am not to have family, anchors, or even truly friends. At any time, for any reason, they can send a fleet to end my life, or even our world, should they feel I have done more than huddle under their edicts. That is not their right."

"I...was not aware that was the terms," he blinked, trying to absorb that atop the rush of memory.

"Oh yes," she grinned darkly. "Branded and coded into the mark they slapped on my back. I am prey, I am not to forget such, though I'm sure Xavier counseled them to keep their wrath to the Summers, and not the planet."

"He..."

"Consulted when the warships were just past Jupiter. Lilandra is no longer Empress, but Xavier is the main contact point for the Shi'ar despite that." Being a reliable, telepathic consort to a previous empress left an impression apparently.

Hank rubbed his chin thoughtfully, not liking that fact. If it was fact. He had to remember this could be paranoia but...she spoke with stark, bitter truth in her words. It was hard to discount it. "This station is the main diplomatic outreach point for ANYONE approaching earth."

"I suggest people here make it clear to the Shi'ar that Xavier is not a workaround," she countered.

It would explain the 'authorized and necessary' statement they'd received to their outraged inquiry after the attack on Terran soil. Authorized outside the chain of command on S.W.O.R.D. somehow, yes. That was a puzzle piece for a different problem though..."what are your thoughts then?"

"I am not a creature to be toyed with," she admitted, more flame crackle in those words than any previous in their conversation. "The Shi'ar are responsible for Phoenix needing a host body, the conqueror D'ken tried to bind a galactic...entity. There are three true forces in this universe, Hank. I am the Life between the Builder and the Destroyer, and they tried to leash a power beyond that of the Gods they knew. I, we, forgave that, a madness in one leader is not necessarily a fear in a people. We let them be when we found a balanced existence to heal and gain perspective. That forgiveness stayed through the body skipping, through Phoenix and Rachel being separate for a time before binding together properly, we held no quarrel. Then the bloodshed. An attempt to remove their mistakes, erase their wrongdoing, and fear. So much fear in the strike against me. Their past horrors are not MY burden to bear and we will remind them of that."

He was used to odd mutant abilities. FEELING the sheer, heavy weight of her words wasn't as strange as it could be, and it helped that he knew her rage wasn't pointed at him but still..."how?"

"Secrets, Hank. I will not allow their secrets. All of their empire will be given the information, the knowledge of what they did and tried to hide...at the same time I remove their family. All their people will know WHY no children are born. I will take that away from every member, Shi'ar, and their conquered races. I will return that ability if they apologize and step off never to make such mistakes again."

Hank swallowed thickly, trying to fathom that..."that will lead to uprisings, civil war..."

"The Shi'ar are conquerors," she noted flatly. "They rule through might and fear. When you remove a strength they will have to face themselves, as I have, since the deaths here. I will live, on this world, I will love and thrive in a quiet, contained existence if I am able. I wish to, to heal. They will have to face their own deeds and ask me to aid them. That hollow pride cannot hold an empire."

Oh dear stars. "You're right," he sighed, "it's a terrible choice."

"I know," she admitted, turning her gaze away.

"But it's not a ruthless one," he admitted. "It allows change, and gives them exactly what they gave to you. What if they are warned?"

"Will you warn them?" she chuckled.

"No but..."

"Xavier's influence is being...handled. Quietly, here on Earth. Not by me, so he won't see it coming."

"How did you manage that?"

The smile was as much fang as it was teeth at that, "I am...giving therapy to those who need it, in exchange, they are moving to protect against Xavier. Protect everyone, not just me."

Who...who...? His mind rang with questions but it wasn't a thing he needed to, or should, know honestly. "I'll need time, Rachel, to lay my thoughts in order." After he unpacked all she'd given him and weighed her statements.

"I know," she admitted. "I could give you years elsewhere, if it would help. Return you to this moment..."

"No dear, no. Allow me the time flow I know."

"Of course," she chuckled and stood, stretching. "Thank you for seeing me, Hank."

"Any time, Rachel. Any time."